#watch me go start a fic i will never finish writing just so i can sleep
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Forever
It's Mother's Day, and Aaron and Jack have a special plan for Emily.
-x-
Hi friends!
It may not be Mother's Day in the UK today, but I know it is in a bunch of other places, so I thought I'd write a fic to mark the occasion.
Happy Mother's Day to those of you have celebrated, and if it's a difficult day for you just know I am holding space for you <3
As always, please let me know what you think <3
-x-
Words: 3.3k
Warnings: none - so fluffy you should floss after xo
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
“Daddy!”
Aaron smiles as he bends down, opening his arms just in time for Jack to throw himself at him, his arms tight around Aaron’s neck as he hugs him, “Hi Jack.”
“You’re home!” Jack says enthusiastically, squeezing his father before he steps back, his eyes wide with excitement, “I thought Aunt Jess was picking me up from school.”
He ruffles Jack’s hair and stands up straight, taking his son’s hand as he starts to lead them back towards the car, “We finished the case and made it back,” he explains, smiling as Jack beams at him, “So I came to get you.”
Jack’s smile slips away slightly as he looks towards the car and sees it’s empty, “Where’s Emily?”
Aaron never felt anything less than in awe of the love his son and his girlfriend had for each other. It felt like a privilege to witness it, to see Jack receiving the maternal love that had been stolen from him at such a young age and to watch Emily be the person to give that to him. To watch her be the amazing mother he always knew she would be, one she would continue to be for Jack and any future children they would hopefully have.
“She’s gone to the store to get what we need for dinner,” he says, pulling the car door open so Jack can get in. He feels an ache in his chest as he watches him climb into the car and pull his seatbelt across himself, something that not all that long ago he needed Aaron to do for him. Aaron checks the belt is secure and gets into the driver's seat, “She said something about getting you that ice cream you love.”
He flicks his gaze to the rearview mirror and Jack smiles impossibly widely at him, “She loves it too!”
Aaron chuckles as he starts to drive, his girlfriend’s sweet tooth one of the many things that had first drawn his son towards her, “Yes, she does. How was school?”
Jack sighs and shrugs, his eyes fixed out of the window as he avoids Aaron’s eye contact through the rearview, “Okay I guess.”
He’s immediately concerned. Jack usually loved school. He was emphatic about it, always enthusiastic whenever he told him or Emily about his day, regaling them with facts his teacher had taught him. They never had to hassle him about homework, something that Aaron hoped would continue for the rest of his education, and there had been times when he’d woken them up to tell them it was time to go to school. Aaron clears his throat to push down the anxiety only Jack or Emily could cause in him.
He had a feeling he knew what the issue was, a familiar date looming in the not so distant future that always seemed to come around so fast.
“Only okay?” He asks, probing gently as he casts a quick glance back at his son.
Jack blows out a breath, a habit he’d picked up from Emily, “Miss Grisham told us we’ll make Mother’s Day cards tomorrow,” he says, looking down at his hands, “She told me before like Miss Keane did last year, and told me I can do something else,” he sighs again, “But I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t.”
Aaron tightens his hold on the steering wheel, guilt and anger he could only ever aim at himself threatening to choke him as they climb up his throat, the taste bitter on his tongue. The school had always been excellent when it came to this kind of thing. They always spoke to Aaron first, who in turn spoke to Jack to remind him of any difficult dates coming up. Aaron and Emily had reminded him about Mother’s Day just a few days ago and he’d nodded along, his smile sad as they told him they’d visit Haley’s grave and leave her flowers like they always had.
Last Mother’s Day, he’d only been with Emily for just over 6 months. She’d taken a step back, an understanding smile on her face as she kissed his cheek and told him it was important that he and Jack did what they’d always done just the two of them. This year, as they were curled up on their new couch in their new house, Jack had asked her to come along as soon as they mentioned it and she’d agreed, smiling as she ran her fingers through his hair.
“Do you think…” Jack starts before he drifts off, sounding unsure, his focus on his hands again when Aaron casts a look into the back of the car.
“Do I think what, buddy?” Aaron asks, “You can tell me anything, you know that.”
Jack nods, “Do you think Emily would mind if I made one for her?”
Aaron smiles, the love he’d felt only minutes ago swelling in his chest again, “I think she’d love that,” he says, his smile getting wider at Jack’s sigh of relief, “It’s a great idea. What made you think of doing that?”
Jack shrugs, “Miss Grisham was talking all about what a mom does. That they look after you, and make you feel better when you’re sad or sick. She said mom’s make you feel safe and Emily does all of that for me. I think she’s my mom,” he says, scrunching his nose up, “Even though Mommy also is my mom, and I think we should do something for Mother’s Day for her,” he sounds more confident than he had since they started this conversation, “Miss Grisham says Mother’s Day is to say thank you. And I should say thank you to Emily.”
He isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry, stuck somewhere between the love Jack has for Emily, and the simple way the 7-year-old had worked through a complicated issue, focused only on what their family looked like now - the three of them against the world. All of a sudden all he can think about is the ring he has hidden in his desk drawer at work.
“Jack,” he starts, smiling as his son nods, their eyes meeting once again in the rearview, “There’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask Emily, want to help me ask her?”
His son’s wide, enthusiastic, smile is the only answer he needs.
___
Emily rolls her shoulders as she walks out of the bedroom, yawning as she comes to a stop at the top of the stairs, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly when she hears her two favourite people in the world whispering to each other, neither one of them being particularly quiet. She smiles as she walks down the stairs, ready to spend her Sunday morning with her Hotchner boys.
As soon as she’s downstairs, they are on her, both standing in front of her with matching grins, their hair and pjyamas adorably mussed by sleep as they each grab one of her hands.
“What’s going on?” She asks, smiling when Aaron leans in to kiss her, stamping his lips against hers and then her cheek.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he says instead of answering, winking at her when she narrows her eyes at him, and she opens her mouth to reply, to argue with him, but Jack cuts her off, both of his hands squeezing hers.
“Emily, it’s a surprise,” he says, his eyes pleading with her, “Please?”
She shakes her head lovingly and leans down to kiss his forehead, “I can’t say no to you,” she says, making a point of raising her eyebrow at her boyfriend as she stands back up straight, “You two better not let me walk into anything.”
Aaron smiles at her as she makes a show of closing her eyes and he kisses her cheek again, his free hand on her back as he starts to guide her towards the dining room, “Never.”
She squeezes his hand as they lead her through the house. They’d only been living here for two months so far but she knew the layout already, knew how many steps it took to get from room to room. She loved it here, it was the home she’d never had, but she knew that had everything to do with the two people leading her towards the dining room and nothing to do with the walls surrounding them. They come to a stop and she laughs when they don’t go any further, wondering why they weren’t going any further.
“You can open your eyes.”
She gasps as she does, a delighted laugh catching in her chest as she looks around the dining room. Breakfast was set up - plates of chocolate chip pancakes already on each place setting, and there were presents, flowers and a card set next to the plate at her usual spot. She looks up at Aaron and then down at Jack, her smile so wide her cheeks were aching.
“What’s all this?”
“Happy Mother’s Day!” They say in unison, both squeezing her hands tightly as they once again flash their matching smiles at her.
She knew it was Mother’s Day. She’d bought her mother a card and sent it to her, and she would send her a text slightly later that likely wouldn’t get a response. She’d bought the flowers and the card they were going to take to Haley’s grave after breakfast, had helped Jack make the perfect selection as they stood in the store for what felt like hours. Aaron had even told her that Jack had mentioned he’d make her a card, giving her the heads up so she wouldn’t be entirely surprised, but he’d clearly kept some of their plans to himself.
“Thank you, sweetie,” she says, turning to Jack first, holding his face in place whilst she leans down to press a few kisses to his cheek, only stopping when he giggles and starts to pull away. She looks up at Aaron and kisses him, smiling into it as he cups the back of her head. She pulls back just enough to speak, making a point of rubbing her nose against his, “Thank you.”
He smiles at her and he has to kiss her again to stop himself from proposing on the spot, “Let’s eat the pancakes before they go cold.”
“Dad put extra chocolate chips in yours,” Jack adds as they walk towards the table, the three of them only disconnecting from each other when they sit down.
“Well they look delicious,” she says, settling into her chair, her eyes flicking to the couple of presents next to her plate. They eat their breakfast, taking time to enjoy it and talk about anything and everything. It still took her aback how normal moments like this were, how ordinary and precious - something she would have once believed she wouldn’t ever get to experience.
Aaron, the slowest eater in the family, has barely put his knife and fork down when Jack announces it’s time to open the presents, his excitement so intense he practically vibrates with it. All Aaron can do is laugh as he stands up, still eating his last mouthful of pancake as he piles their plates up and takes them to the kitchen. When he gets back into the dining room, Jack is sitting on Emily’s lap, her arms wrapped tightly around him as she holds him in place, and he doesn’t think he’s ever loved them more.
Over the last week, he’d wondered if this was the right thing to do, if proposing to her in such a simple way was enough. She deserved the world and he’d give it to her if he could. He’d undo every terrible thing anyone else had ever done to her and rip them apart with his own hands if they tried to hurt her again. He feels any anxiety disappear the moment he sees her, still in her pjyamas with her face bare of make-up and her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, his son on her lap as he excitedly spoke at her, because he knows this was right. It was them.
“Present time,” Aaron says as he takes the seat next to them, and Jack smiles widely at him, mischief at the thought of the secret they’d been sharing for a week now shining brightly out of his face.
Emily smiles and tilts her head down to talk to Jack, pressing a kiss to his temple, “Where should I start?”
“With the card and present from me,” he says, grabbing the bigger gift and pulling it towards them before he points at the small box, “That one is from Daddy.”
She hums as she looks up at her boyfriend, unable to stop herself from smiling as he looks at her with nothing short of adoration before she turns her attention back to Jack, “I’ll open yours first then.”
She’s careful as she opens the envelope on the clearly handmade card, and she presses her lips together as she pulls it out, glitter spilling out onto the table and their laps. She sighs happily at the drawing on the front of it, cartoon stick figures of the three of them and Sergio outside their house, Jack’s messy handwriting spelling out “Happy Mother’s Day” on the front of it. She opens it and her smile gets impossibly wider as she reads the inside of the card, her lungs stuffed so full of happiness and love that she can’t breathe.
To Emily
Happy Mother’s Day.
Thank you for everything you do for me and Daddy!
Love Jack
She blows out a slow breath and looks at Aaron when he places his hand on her knee, squeezing it gently as she kisses the top of Jack’s head, “Thank you, Jack,” she says, resting her cheek on top of his head, “That’s so sweet.”
“Now open the present!”
She chuckles at his impatience and she nods, carefully placing the card down before she picks up the box and pulls off the wrapping paper and then removes the cardboard lid. She lifts a mug out of the box and sighs happily when she sees her favourite picture of her and Jack screen-printed onto it. It was a photo Aaron had taken a few months ago at the park. The two of them were cuddled together on a bench, wide smiles on their faces as they looked at the camera.
“Thank you, sweetie,” she says, kissing his head again, “I love it, I needed a new mug for work.”
Jack turns to look at her and nods, “I know! Uncle Derek won’t be able to steal this one.”
“You’re right, he won’t be able to.” She says as she laughs and pulls him into a hug, she sinks into the embrace with the little boy she loved as her own, closing her eyes as she breathes him in. She and Aaron had talked about having at least one more baby and she knew she’d love Jack the exact same way as she would love a baby she carried herself, “I love you, Jack.”
“Love you too,” he says, smiling as he pulls back to look at her, “You should open Daddy’s now.”
She knows they are up to something because of the way they look at each other in the brief moment before Jack slips from her lap. Aaron stands up and kisses her, cutting off any questions. He pulls back to look at her, one of the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile.
“Close your eyes.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Aaron-”
“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice soft and kind as he smiles at her, “Close your eyes.”
She presses her lips together and nods, doing as she’s asked. She hears shuffling as if they are moving and she sighs, jumping ever so slightly when Aaron holds her hand.
“You can open your eyes.”
Time seems to slow down as she does, the sarcastic comment she’d had all ready to go dying on her tongue as she sucks in a breath the moment she looks at them. They are both kneeling on the floor, an excited smile on Jack’s face and a nervous one on Aarons. The smaller box now in his other hand, opened and offered to her, showcasing the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen.
“Aaron…”
She doesn’t recognise her own voice, the rest of her words caught in her chest as she stares at them, her vision going blurry as tears gather in her eyes. They’d talked about marriage, and she knew he had a ring, but she hadn’t considered this as a possibility when she woke up this morning, hadn’t thought that this was where the, in itself unexpected, Mother’s Day breakfast was going. Even though he hadn’t asked the question yet, she knew what her answer would be.
She wanted him, wanted them, for the rest of her life.
“Emily, I love you so much,” Aaron says, his voice surprisingly steady given that he feels like he is shaking, “I love how much you love us,” he says, nodding towards Jack, “How you make us both feel safe, how you saved us after everything. And I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel even half as loved as you’ve made us feel,” he smiles softly when the sob she’d been holding back finally escapes her and he squeezes her hand, “Will you marry me?”
He barely has the words out before she’s nodding and leaning forward, her hands curled around his head, her fingers sinking into his hair as she kisses him. She pulls back just enough to speak, her answer passing from her lips to his.
“Yes,” she says, choking on a noise between a laugh and a sob, “Yes I’ll marry you.”
He slips the ring onto her finger, briefly pulling away from her enough to do so before he’s kissing her again, pulling her into another hug as he kneels on the floor and she’s still sitting in her seat.
“I love you,” he says, kissing her lips and then her cheek and her jaw, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she replies, pulling back to look at him, sniffing as she wipes a tear from his cheek, “I love you.”
“Can I join in on the hug now?”
They both laugh as they turn to look at Jack, the little boy’s patience running out as he all but bounces on the spot, his smile so wide Emily’s surprised his face hasn’t split in half. They both nod and unhook one arm from around the other to make space for him. He steps forward and wraps his arms around them both, his head against Emily’s shoulder.
“Emily?” Jack asks, lifting his head to look at her. She hums in response and looks at him, sinking into the feeling of their embrace, of Aaron’s hand rubbing soothing patterns on her back, “You know what this means?”
“What, honey?” She asks, smiling at him.
“This means you’ll be my mom for real!”
Her breath stutters in her chest, and she feels Aaron hold her even closer, his hand even firmer on her lower back as he turns his head to kiss her temple. She always loved how simply he looked at things, that despite everything his innocence was still largely intact, and she’d spend the rest of her life protecting it with everything she had.
“Yeah,” she says, smiling as more tears gather in her eyes, her heart so full she’s sure it will burst, “It does.”
-x-
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oh my god I have a huge st5 theory and I have to share. warning: spoilers over stranger things s4 coming.
so we all know how the ending of st4vol2 was the most devastating and I am emotionally traumatized, right? Max Mayfield is my baby and I am so mad what they did to her. I've been irrationally angry since I watched the finale, until I realized something today... why? why would they do this?
it seems so pointless to almost kill Max, to then just leave her brain dead. its so pointless like let her die or let her live I'm not a fan of this weird in-between. (they also made it strangely specific how they show us that El brought her back through memories.)
but then I'm realizing I'm not thinking rationally: this is a Hopper all over again. they didn't really kill Max because they don't want her to stay dead. they're gonna bring her back. but then the question is how???? she's literally gone it's just her body left. how??
guys, though. dude. so Vecna needed these sacrifices right, but we thought he needed the whole physical sacrifice, yet we see with Max coming back to life physically that he doesn't seem to need the physical body to be dead - he just needed her consciousness.
Vecna is obviously very connected with people minds, their memories, their conscious. he can control all of the upside down, he even controlled Will. point being that he just needs mind's. he needed Max's mind.
remember how in Vecnas little mind layer thing, other victims were there? hooked up like he was draining the life out of them? using them?
Max's consciousness is being USED and being held CAPTIVE by Vecna. Which means if the gang can get a way in, they can somehow return her mind to her body. a good solid way in would be with someone who's already connected to Vecna ... cough cough Will.
we also seen in vol2 that El can control the upsidedown consciousness of Vecna. she's uses her powers to make the vines let go of her, like she had control over them. which says to me she has the power to release Max from Vecnas hold. (I also have a theory that 8 will return to defeat Vecna with El, needing both of their mind bending powers to overpower him).
releasing Max could then weaken Vecna, OR it could be more something like killing Vecna is how they release her. no matter what I am now convinced that Max isn't dead, her consciousness is just being held captive by Vecna himself.
El seeing that Max is gone consciously, and having seen the victims in Vecnas mind, AND with Will being connected to him, they could easily come to the conclusion that she's still alive. I can easily see half the party trying to fight a upsidedown war, while the other party is trying to find a way into Vecnas mind so they can rescue Max. if Max came back mid to late season then SHE could be their way into finally defeating him because she would know him better than Will.
anyway that's my little rant,
end of theory!
#stranger things spoilers#stranger things#st4#st5#st5 theory#max mayfield#st4 spoilers#im like actually obsessed with this theory#cant stop thinking abiut it#watch me go start a fic i will never finish writing just so i can sleep
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I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen
Words: 9,747
Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her.
Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)
Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund
Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.
Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.
He wishes now that he had paid more attention.
There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.
She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.
—
She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.
Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.”
Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.”
He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.”
“Not gonna tell me it gets easier?”
He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”
She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know.
“I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”
Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”
The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.
A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.
Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.
She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.
A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs.
She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.
She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.”
He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back.
“You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head.
“Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go.
She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.”
He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.
—
Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.
Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.
She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.
And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.
—
She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.
She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.
It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.
—
She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.
It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.
She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.
Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.”
He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly.
“You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.”
He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.”
“Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.”
Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”
—
She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.
“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.”
He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock.
“He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.”
“Madelyn and Daniel?”
She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.”
One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.
“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.”
Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.”
“Thank you.”
—
Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.
His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.
Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.
Fuck.
—
“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.
Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.
Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.”
“Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.”
She makes a humming noise.
“C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”
Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.”
Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle.
He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.”
“Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.”
He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”
Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.
“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?”
Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?”
She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.”
Logan both blushes and preens at the same time.
Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.
“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”
The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.
It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.
The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.
The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?”
She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.”
He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.”
She laughs, “good gin and tonic?”
He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.”
She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”
Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.
“Momma, can we,”
“Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.
They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.
Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.”
Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.”
“We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”
It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.
“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts.
“Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused.
“Ah.”
“Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.”
She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases.
The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.”
“Thank you.”
“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?”
She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.”
Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.”
“Your work allows you to do that?”
Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.”
“You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.”
“I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”
“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious.
“No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.”
“Manager?”
“God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.”
“Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.”
“Of course.”
“Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.”
“Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?”
“Done.”
—
Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.
“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him.
He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?”
“It’s nice.” She smiles.
Relief fills him. “Good.”
He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?
—
Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.
“Dinner was nice.”
Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him.
“You seemed a bit more relaxed.”
“No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.”
Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head.
“Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.
“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.”
Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?”
He shrugs as best as he can.
“I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.”
“You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs.
Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.”
“What happened?”
“She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.”
Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.”
The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies.
“What?”
“I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.”
“Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar.
“I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.”
Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?”
Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?”
“The one that gave Fred shit.”
“I thought she died?”
The two look at each other, both baffled.
Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.
“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?”
“Mate, you didn’t hear about that?”
“No!”
“She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.”
“How do I not remember this?”
Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”
It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,”
“No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.”
“Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.
“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.”
Logan groans, “Os, no.”
“Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.”
“Oscar, please, it’s my mom.”
“She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush.
He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.”
“Lando was looking.”
Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.”
He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.”
“He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns.
“I saw that too.”
“But he also got all blushy when they talked.”
“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?”
Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.”
“Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”
—
“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?”
“I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.”
Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.”
“We all want to age like her.” George agrees.
“What are you saying?” Fernando frowns.
A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.”
Fernando frowns, “Lines?”
Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank.
Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.”
The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.
—
Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.
Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.
She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.”
“Fuck.”
“Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,”
“He’s gonna do it.”
And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.
“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her.
“He did it! He did it!” She cheers.
The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.
“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.”
“Got it. Where’s Alex?”
She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.”
It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.”
Both of her hands fly up to her mouth.
“Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.”
She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control.
“What? What do you mean?”
“You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.”
“Holy fuck.”
The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes.
“You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.”
She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.”
“Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”
His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.
His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.
There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.
His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.
Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.
“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.”
“I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried.
“You did it.”
—
“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.”
She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?”
He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.”
“He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her.
His smile widens as he takes the seat.
“I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear.
“I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?”
She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.”
“Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.”
She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”
—
“Did I actually score points yesterday?”
“You did.”
“Sweet.”
“Very. How’s the head?”
Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.”
She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.”
“Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it.
She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.”
“True.”
He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.”
“I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.”
“Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.”
“I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.”
“Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.
“So, how was your night?”
“It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.”
His brows press together. “Max?”
“Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”
“You went on a date?”
Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.”
“You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.”
“I go on dates.”
“Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.”
She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists.
“Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?”
“Yes.”
“Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?”
Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,”
Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?”
“Oh.”
Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.”
“I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.
—
“Logan!”
He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces.
“Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?”
He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press.
“But how are you feeling about it?”
Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.”
He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.”
Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.”
“P10 and P9.”
He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.”
Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.”
“Not yours?”
He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.”
Logan couldn’t really deny that.
“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?”
Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.”
“Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.”
“And if I go into the wall?”
Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”
—
“How are you doing that in the turns?”
Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.”
“Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.”
Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”
—
Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.
He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.
“I like you, Max.”
He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him.
“And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his.
“So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say.
“I’m a mom.”
He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.”
“Logan is important to me.”
Oh, god, did Logan not like him?
“The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.”
“Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”
“Did you think that I didn’t know that?”
She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.”
“I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?”
Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.”
He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.
“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.”
“His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right.
“His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?”
“No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.”
She stares at him, lips pressed together.
He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.”
She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?”
“The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears.
“I am his mother, just adopted.”
“Not that either of you see it that way.”
“No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.
“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.”
“Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?”
She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.”
“Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.”
“How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.
—
“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch.
“Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun.
Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.
She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.
He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach.
“What?”
“How was your date last night?”
Her smile widens. “It was good.”
“Yeah?”
She nods.
“Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?”
“No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.”
“About what?”
“Breakfast first.”
“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well.
She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.”
“What about Max?”
She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.”
“You know, I’m okay with it.”
“I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.”
Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”
He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.
“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.”
Logan flushes at the words.
“He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age.
He flushes even more. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.”
“I am an adult.”
“You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.”
He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
—
She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?”
She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?”
“Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?”
“First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.
Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.
The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder.
“Am I late?”
“Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen.
“Can I,”
She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.”
“Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.”
“Hi, Logan.”
Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.”
“Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye.
“You both don’t like when I lift anything.”
“What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back.
Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.”
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.
—
Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.
“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.”
“One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.”
“See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head.
“I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.”
Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.”
He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.”
“Are you sure?”
Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”
“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”
—
“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage.
The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at.
“Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.”
“Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely.
“Please.” She gestures.
Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?”
The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.”
“Thank you.”
He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.
Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.
“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member.
“Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?”
He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.”
“And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases.
“No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.”
“I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.”
“Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.”
“Oh?”
Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”
—
“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.”
Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.”
“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats.
His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.
She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.
“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.”
“Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask.
“He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.”
Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?”
She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.”
“Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.”
“Anything I can help with?”
She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.”
“Of course. What’s going on?”
Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?”
His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.”
“The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.”
“They have to be not performing well.”
“They’re a rookie in a back marker team.”
“They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about.
“They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.”
His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?”
“Nine.”
“I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.”
She shakes her head.
“Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?”
She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.”
“I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.
“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his.
“The driver’s Logan.”
“What?”
“Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.”
Max stares at her. “How?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.”
“He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.”
“I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.”
“It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
—
“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it.
“Why’s that, honey?”
He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team.
“I guess you are a bit spoiled.”
He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle.
“That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.”
He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more.
“I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.
“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.”
She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.”
“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends.
“Very true.”
He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder.
“How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner.
She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.”
He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?”
“I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.”
“I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.
—
“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside.
“I know.”
“Logan still wanting to do his new routine.”
She nods, lips pursed.
He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.
Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.
“Are him and Oscar still joining us?”
She throws him a look. “Us?”
“You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that.
“Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.”
“Will Logan be joining us for Florida?”
“Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.”
Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,”
“You go to Milton for a day after.”
He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.”
“Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.”
“Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.
It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.
“Max.”
“Yes?”
“Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend.
He freezes.
“Max.”
“I knew I forgot something.”
@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#I ❤️ MILFS verse#I was on something when I came up with this idea and the name of this fic
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful
Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.
A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
“How are you settling in?”
“Fine.” You shrug.
“Any instinct to nest at all?”
You shake your head. “No.”
“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?”
You shake your head again. “No.”
Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?”
You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.”
“Is that something you’d like to start doing?”
Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over.
“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve.
“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?”
Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you.
To go back in time and never present as an omega.
“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”
Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze.
She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.
“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.”
Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?”
“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you.
You just have to ask.
It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you.
They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow?
“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?”
“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”
You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it.
“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...”
You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you.
“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.”
You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.
It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see?
How many scars do they have inside, too?
“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.”
Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier.
“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.”
She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you?
“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.
The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents.
You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller.
“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.”
It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping.
You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast.
You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind.
A nightlight.
You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for.
Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day.
You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he?
You don’t know that.
You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega.
You’re a good omega.
You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually.
You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway.
He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips.
Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you.
“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest.
“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack.
“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself.
“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him.
You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base.
Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing.
Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know.
Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you.
Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England?
You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous.
Your pack won’t let anything happen to you.
Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness.
You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then.
“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush.
“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?”
Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.”
“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.”
Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.”
“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout.
“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes.
You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?”
He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.”
You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark.
Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now.
“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions.
“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.”
Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.”
You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?”
“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.”
You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.”
Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.”
You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment.
Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long.
“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water.
“Quite a ways.” He answers.
“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack.
“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.
You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice.
Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat.
Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours.
How big is this base?
You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in.
“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you.
“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top.
“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.”
The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat.
Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to.
The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor.
“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him.
“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s.
You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water.
You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below.
“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here.
“A training exercise.” He says finally.
“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it?
“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.”
You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?”
Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.”
Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench.
“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.”
“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity.
“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch.
You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.”
He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.”
Your frown deepens. “But-”
“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.”
“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that.
You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds.
You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin.
They’re not from the cold either.
The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while.
“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence.
You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?”
“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.”
Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area.
“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.”
Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him.
He probably knows you already have.
You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head.
Don’t back down.
Don’t back down.
Don’t back down.
A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him.
“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets.
You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment.
He could have had worse ones, you always thought.
You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness.
You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck...
Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart.
“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you.
“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about.
Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?”
Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas.
“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.”
Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out.
“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?”
You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.”
“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action.
“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-”
“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.”
His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha.
“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly.
“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.”
You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.”
He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.”
You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion.
You want to kneel for him.
You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase.
Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin.
“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.
You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days.
“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.”
You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?”
“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin.
You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.”
“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks.
“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout.
“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.”
You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base.
Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.”
It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style.
“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you.
“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs.
He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep.
You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.”
You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.”
“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair.
“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing.
“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?”
“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder.
You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental.
Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet.
“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.”
“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek.
“Stubborn little omega.”
Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally.
It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again.
It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions.
“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door.
You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp.
You know what they’re going to think.
The stares you’ll get.
Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you.
You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy.
“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.”
You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room.
“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.”
You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend.
Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need.
“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you.
You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare.
“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.”
You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way.
An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger.
“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him.
The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.”
“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.”
He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess.
“What do you want?”
You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.
“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer.
You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation.
“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out,
“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you.
You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega.
“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once.
You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”
Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again.
“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit.
You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything.
Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you.
You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it?
You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you.
You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent.
He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks.
You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well.
“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.”
The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins.
The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-”
It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket.
“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists.
“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch.
A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside.
“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.
You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch.
He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.”
You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your body looking in.
“Probably not.” Ghost says.
You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”
Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.”
You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there.
“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax.
“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it.
“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?”
“Very high.” He answers.
You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.”
“I don’t want it to be.” He explains.
“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit.
“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand.
“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.
“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.”
“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again.
Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind?
“Teach me to fight.”
His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years.
“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”
He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring.
You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha?
“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.”
A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence.
Monday. Early.
You’ll be ready.
Taglist Part 1:
@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10
#call of duty fic#call of duty#cod fic#john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#a/b/o#alpha beta omega dynamics#omegaverse#x reader
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STEAM | myg ft. jjk
pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)
genre: smut
word count: 9.2k
summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.
playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam
warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names
note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3
The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.
He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.
You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.
And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.
The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.
But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.
It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.
Showers with him are something else.
Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.
That has become your new version of hot long showers.
And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.
You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.
That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.
You feel him everywhere.
You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.
Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch.
That’s a good girl. Messy for me.
The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.
It’s a part of the solo girl's night.
A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.
You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—
A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.
You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.
He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is.
Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.
Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully.
His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses.
Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth.
He is not, in fact, on his way home.
It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy.
You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny.
Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.”
He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?”
The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display.
He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.”
Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself.
Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen.
Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking.
A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do?
It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice.
You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on.
“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.”
Naked.
Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.”
And with that, he hangs up.
The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you.
You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend.
His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form.
Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer.
Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience?
The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad.
Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you.
What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done?
You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you.
That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.
Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer.
By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.
You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you.
The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had.
The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to.
Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all.
The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream—
“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”
Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment?
Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call?
“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person.
Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult.
You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there.
This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—
“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.”
It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred.
Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body.
A healer with big, round eyes. A good man.
With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”
It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.
You made Yoongi drink a lot of water.
And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober.
He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross.
So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially.
Was it out of the question or would he consider it?
Your leg jitters harder.
You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin.
“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.”
He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion.
You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—
Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek.
“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?”
You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one?
You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks.
“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness.
And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you.
“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.”
You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?”
Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”
You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did.
Your arousal returns at full speed.
“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently.
You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side.
“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.”
He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?”
You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself.
Yoongi coos. “Good girl.”
A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you.
“Can I feel how wet you are?”
A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.”
You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted.
“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue.
He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently.
“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?”
You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.”
He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”
You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?”
Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?”
The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine.
He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?”
Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.”
A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?”
You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—
You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath.
“Spank my pussy again, please.”
Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while.
“Apologize first.”
“You didn’t tell me how.”
He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—
“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.”
Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours.
You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples.
“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”
You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.
“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”
You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged.
“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?”
Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times.
You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think.
When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants.
Roses, opening. Roses, sighing.
You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—
“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half.
There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath.
Such a stark, sudden change.
You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.
Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.
Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?
You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.
You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.
Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that.
“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.”
The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving.
“Keep your legs where they belong.”
“No.”
A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage.
“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin.
You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under.
“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.
“You want to get fucked by someone else?”
A question for a question.
You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration.
Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home.
The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy.
There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.
“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?”
Truthfulness, at last.
Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start.
You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down.
You fight against it.
Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness.
And you decide to repeat history.
You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants.
The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat.
“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?”
You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether.
And then, you collect your essence again.
This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest.
“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.”
Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you.
He parts his lips for you.
And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally.
You’re in charge. And it feels divine.
His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue.
“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.”
A straight hit to his core. A glee for you.
But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince.
And then—then he manhandles you.
Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does.
He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden.
Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter.
“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?”
You gulp, frozen, eyes widening.
Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion.
“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.”
So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit.
Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free.
You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off.
“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.”
Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused.
“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.”
You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation.
“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way.
A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum.
“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.”
Yoongi has had enough.
He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’.
Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.”
You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?”
He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix.
You moan his name, gone—entirely gone.
“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?”
He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him.
“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”
Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.”
He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you.
“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.”
You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.”
He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something.
Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—
Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.”
You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you.
“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.”
You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come.
It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them.
“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.”
You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes.
“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.”
With that, he hangs up.
You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again.
Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself.
You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you.
“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing.
You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?”
Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.”
You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief.
“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you.
“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you.
He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—
Yoongi loses his mind.
And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles.
“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.”
He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours.
But you don’t let him take charge.
“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.”
Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you.
His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed.
You hold onto his neck with your dear life.
“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.”
You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours.
“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.
“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.”
Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him.
It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock.
It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit.
It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life.
And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.
And it’s you who checks up on him.
“You sure you’re okay with this?”
You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too.
He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring.
“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.”
You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation.
“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?”
You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness.
“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him.
“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.”
“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.”
Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you.
© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.
BACK to masterlist / READ part two
#yoongi x oc#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi smut#bts smut#bts imagine#yoongi imagine#min yoongi#bts scenarios#yoongi scenarios#yoongi fluff#btscreatorscorner#kpop smut#yoongi one shot#jungkook smut#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jeon jungkook#jungkook imagine
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cat and mouse
summary: your co-worker has been on your case ever since you've started your time at the company. a strange turn of events and circumstance changes all that.
pairing: coworker! lee know x reader
trope: enemies to lovers <3, office au
genre: slight angst, smut, and fluff
warnings: fem-bodied reader, oral, creampie, overstim, unprotected sex, bulge kink, spitting, etc. 18+ mdni
word count: 9.8k
a/n: a little practice piece for you guys, i hope i did well;; so sorry this took me so long to write :( i also hope it's cohesive enough, i keep writing this fic on and off sleep deprived lol
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tick…
tock…
tick…
to-
“the clock isn’t going to speed up just because you keep staring at it.” the cubicle beside you chirps in, momentarily shaking you out of your thoughts. by now, you’ve trained to pay him no mind as you keep your focus on the clock that reads 4:56 pm, almost taunting you in a way.
a few more minutes and you’ll be home free for the weekend. maybe you can finally relax and get away from your dreaded paperwork. perhaps look through your shopping apps since you had nothing else better to do for the weekend, or better yet- you could run a well deserved bath with that bath bomb you always wanted to use but never got a chance to. all the possibilities sounded heavenly although all that would have to actually wait until you get home.
one other thing that you had been anticipating all day was having that dinner after work with jeongin- your close friend and coworker from a different department. he had been begging you for ages to finally try that one soba place that opened up nearby with him. you being a good friend, agreed.
“you might actually melt the clock if you keep doing that y’know.” your cubicle neighbor- lee minho smirks, now standing and leaning over your workspace.
"what do you want?" pointedly asking him.
"oh, nothing. nothing."
“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you deadpan and tilt your chin up to stare at him, minho just offers a sly smirk in return. he always liked to bother and butt into your business for some odd reason.
minho shrugs, “it’s fun teasing you. you do that thing where you scrunch your nose when you get riled up.” a vain visibly pops up from your forehead, but turn to your computer, hoping to drown him out with your typing.
you knew better than to give him a reaction. if you had a penny for how many times that particular vein popped from your forehead because of minho, you’d probably be a millionaire by now.
“oh, one more thing-” the brown haired man saunters back to his desk, and comes back to yours with a huge stack of papers. he unceremoniously plops it down, the annoying feline-like grin on his face.
“what’s…this?” raising an eyebrow at him, you hope it's not what you think he's planning. you have plans. he crosses his arms and pushes his framed glasses back.
“paperwork, of course.” you wanted to strangle him. “yes, i’m well aware that this is paperwork. why is it now on my desk?”
before you could protest any further, “they want this finished by next week.” he leans to practically whisper in your ear. minho grins mischievously after he sees your pink flustered face take a step back.
the humongous stack was already on his desk, so your boss most likely assigned it to him in the first place. you furrow your eyebrows and turn to him, worst fear coming true.
"ohh no. not in a million years." you get up from your seat, avoiding the offending pile. he starts going back to his desk, neatly placing his things in it's organizers.
“why can’t you finish it? you- what are you doing?” but minho was already grabbing his bag and blazer and looking at his wrist watch.
“would you look at the time- thanks for covering for me!” aaaand he's gone.
plopping down on your chair, you bury your face in your hands, stopping yourself from pulling out hair. frustration creases on your forehead. well, you could kiss that dinner with jeongin goodbye. now you definitely want to strangle him.
-
lee minho. if you were to find a personification of the word annoying, the brunette would certainly be it. that man has done nothing but annoy the hell out of you ever since you started your time in the company. other people in your department often regarded him as one of the most reliable and polite employees here.
you would inwardly scoff at the frequent mention of minho and his apparent “reliable-ness and politeness” since all he was, was just the opposite. to you at least. it was hard to believe at first.
but then you actually saw the way he carried himself with effortlessness and composure, handled business affairs, and how he mingled so seamlessly with fellow colleagues. it was nothing short of professional.
so you had a theory that he was only like that towards you. a complete dick only to you. you although weren’t quite sure why.
the girls in your department would often talk about him as well, mostly for his appearance. you really weren’t one for gossiping but you would listen in sometimes, curious about what they see in him. it was hard not to when they would gush about their workplace crushes and love lives so openly, a tinge of envy seeps through your bones every time it would be mentioned. you have got to get laid one day.
“he’s totally my type, you think i should ask him out?” your other cubicle neighbor says quite loudly during her break. her friend beside her shakes their head, “no, no you can’t.”
“why not? isn't he hot and available?” she asks absentmindedly. you start to zone out for a minute, only catching bits and pieces of their conversation. but you contemplate about what she said for a second, you would be lying if you said that lee minho was unattractive.
far from that actually. distinctly remembering catching a few glimpses of him from your first day, intrigued and interest piqued. his sharp nose and cheek bones, features were like sculpted by michaelangelo himself, his toned and lean figure accentuated by the perfectly well fit suit that he always seem to wear.
you definitely found him attractive at first.
that was until he started annoying you, so all of that was quickly out the window.
but you would probably end yourself before admitting that to anyone. you let out a disgruntled sigh, appearance wouldn’t really matter if he wasn’t such a knob to begin with.
as you approached your dimly lit street, all you could think about was that feline faced jerk. what was he thinking, dumping all that work on you last minute? you felt really bad about cancelling on jeongin, texting him earlier about the sudden change of schedule. the dark haired man you've come to know just replies with a little;
'we'll just try again next week lol'
you breathe out a relieved sigh, thankful that he wasn't mad. kicking the pebbles on the side of the road, you imagined that the little rocks were minho's face. you could not wait until you get home.
“stupid paperwork, stupid minho, stupid…”
your muttering fades and you suddenly stop in your tracks as your elderly neighbor waves you over from her front door, grandma lee or just grandma- as she insists you call her instead.
you bowed and greeted her, “hi grandma, did you need something?” you were quite close with the sweet old lady, her gray hair swaying lightly in the wind.
the elder would often check up on you after hearing that you traveled all the way from your hometown to the city, almost taking you in as her own. you were grateful for the company since homesickness would often creep up. she would also often bring you comically large jars of kimchi which you appreciated greatly.
she smiles as she gestures to the multiple bags she was holding, "i just need a little help getting these inside the house, dear." you take the heavy bags from her hands. what were in these, rocks? grandma claps her hands together in remembrance.
“have you had dinner yet? i made extra.”
-
grandma sets a bowl in front of you, the sight of seaweed soup instantly brings you comfort. your stomach grumbles as you dig in. she watches you intently as you practically inhale the soup, starved from the long and terrible day you had.
you sent her a polite questioning look. “i want to ask you for a favor.” she finally starts, flicking through the channels of her tv. the weather was on, the forecaster droning on about rain happening this week in the same monotone voice for the past 10 minutes. you look at her and nod immediately, she had done so much for you, doing a few favors aren't going to hurt.
“do you have a car, dear?”
blowing on the steaming hot seaweed soup, you nod again at her question, wondering where this conversation is heading.
“i need someone to drive me to my son’s house tomorrow, i'm staying over there for the weekend and my bags are a little heavy. would that be alright with you, dear?” you’ve heard about her family from her stories when she would have you over like now, little bits and pieces. you smile and agree.
a cheshire grin graces your features after a moment. “what’s in it for me?” it was a joke of course, grandma knew it too. having spent a large amount of time with her, your humor must’ve rubbed off at some point.
you didn’t expect her to actually answer but she replies, “actually, i’d like you to meet my grandson as well. i think you two would get along. he's the same age as you too.”
the aforementioned grandson was someone you’ve seen in a bunch of grandma lee’s hallway pictures. you remember that he was an only child, often the only kid and the lone subject in the photos. your favorite was the kid in red with a toothy grin. he must’ve been 5 when it was taken.
"it was a joke, grandma. i'm sure your grandson wouldn't want a stranger suddenly coming to meet him." she shakes her head,
"nonsense. that boy doesn't know what he wants." you laugh at her persistence. getting another bowl of rice, you ponder her offer for a second. maybe this could finally cure your dull and dry love life, it couldn't hurt to try. if worse comes to worst, you could just pretend it never happened.
“but of course, i’ll drive you there. i have nothing to do anyways.” you say with a mouthful of rice. grandma pats you on the back and continues to flick through the channels once more.
“thank you dear.”
-
the sunset blears through your windshield, sun rays momentarily blinding you. it was clear as day. the ride to her family’s house was relatively quiet, the elderly lady in your passenger seat preferred to sleep the whole ride through after handing you the address, giving you a moment to leave you in your thoughts.
pulling up to the neighborhood, you let out a low whistle. the house was at the end of the street, steep and uphill. it was surely going to be a struggle to get the car way up there.
you get to the curb, reverse and try to park your car as best as you can. the house was really pretty, you thought. it looked pretty lived in too, but in a cozy way. vines was sprawled all over the brick exterior and flowers had bloomed all over the property.
you wake up grandma and start to haul her luggage up and out the car.
"you go up, grandma. i'll catch up."
after struggling to get the multiple bags of luggage up hill, you finally waddle to the front door. the door was left slightly ajar, probably for your convenience. you took a quick peek around, hoping for someone to let you in.
calling out before entering, you were met with silence. you figured they were too busy catching up so you eventually let yourself in.
the furniture adorning the hallway and rooms were made out of wood, the handiwork and craftsmanship was evident, intricate carvings on each and every one of them. it must’ve been made by grandma lee’s son as you’ve heard from her many stories.
a ginger cat with white stripes greets you as you enter the front door, it strides over to you in intrigue. leaning down and dropping grandma's bags gently, you let the feline sniff your hand before allowing itself to be pet. soon enough it starts rubbing its body on your legs and purring loudly. adorable cat, you thought.
silence fills the house, aside from the soft chatter coming from the other side of the wall. the cat leaves it's spot, not wanting to be pet anymore. you sit up and observe the house again, noticing a myriad of family photos adorning the walls and some of the tables.
coming closer to one of the pictures, again, you encounter the same young boy in red but this time he was wearing a cap sideways and a puffer jacket that seemed to be way too big for him.
"hello! you must be y/n!" a feminine voice suddenly calls out from the living room. you straighten your back from the mention of your name, hoping she didn't catch you closely staring at their personal and probably private photos. grandma lee comes out from the living room as well and walks towards you with a younger and kind looking woman in tow. she had another cat in her arms, this time it's coat was gray with dark streaks.
you smile and greet her politely, exchanging pleasantries. you quietly pick up the neglected bags and place them near the guest room. they continue their conversation with each other from before, you now awkwardly standing in the middle. looking at your wrist watch, you figured you should probably head on home.
"i suppose i'll get going now, it was really nice meeting you." mrs. lee looked startled at your sudden announcement.
"why don't you stay for a while? it must've been a long drive here, you're probably hungry." these two women weren't related by blood but they practically were, having the same idea when it came to hospitality.
"well, i don't want to overstay my welcome. i'm just here to give grandma a ride." smoothening out your non-existent clothes wrinkles in apprehension.
she waves her hand in dismissal, "but you must stay, you're already here anyways." she grins and pats your back. mrs. lee didn't seem to budge at your refusal.
you relented, finally accepting her offer. "my son is in the kitchen whipping something up. he's a great cook." you totally forgot about her son being actually here. the joke offer from yesterday completely forgotten and flew out of your mind. slight embarrassment runs through you, realizing that the offer was somewhat serious. you would surely need to mentally prep yourself for more socialization than you've anticipated.
but you instantly believe her claim that her son was a great cook, the amazing and aromatic smell of what seems to be steak and multiple herbs and spices from the kitchen wafts through out the entire house.
"okay- while we're waiting," mrs. lee gestures for you to take a seat, "you should go sit on the couch, y/n. i've been dying to meet you."
she hands you a mug of hot tea and sits down next to you. "mom here talks about you all the time, thank you for keeping her company."
"it's no problem at all, i like her company too." and with that, the three of you fall into a smooth and comfortable rhythm of conversation. the younger of the two women across from you continues to poke and prod into life, not that you minded. she would ask you about your life, where were you from, where you went to school, and where you went to work and among other things.
she offers you stories of her son gleefully in return, laughing about a particularly embarrassing story when he was younger. you learned that he was quite fond and talented in dancing, loves cats, and loves to cook. oddly enough mrs. lee never mentioned his name at all, you didn't want to pry. now that you've thought about it, grandma hadn't mentioned his name at all either. all you had for a lead was initials you remember seeing etched on one of grandma's photos. you figured you'd meet this person soon enough anyways.
after a while, grandma lee retreats to the guest room they've set up, assuming that she'd want to fix her belongings. mrs. lee starts to drag you around the house, urging you to help her set the plates up and talk more while doing so. midway through placing the chopsticks on the table, the sound of pots and pans clanging from the other room shakes you out of your thoughts.
"mom?" a voice calls out from their kitchen. it must be her son. you slightly raise your eyebrows, he sounds oddly familiar but you can't place your finger who he might've sounded like. you quickly brush it off.
"yes?"
"have you seen the slow cooker?" the man finally reveals himself and pokes his head through the entryway to the kitchen.
you lift your head and lock eyes with the said person. shock freezes your movements, dropping the utensils that you were holding. blinking owlishly in surprise, you weren't sure if what you were seeing was real.
you feel the wind knock out of your lungs. this was not happening. the brown eyes, brown hair, and cat like face from work that you've come to dislike stared back. you must be hallucinating.
standing across from you was lee minho, the lee minho. grandma lee’s grandson. the same one that's been tormenting you all year round. you just couldn't believe it, wondering what kind of luck you had to end up here.
you think back to when you looking (--more like snooping) at grandma lee's framed hallway photos, the kid- that was him all along? you're really bad at recognizing faces, you thought to yourself. well, she certainly made him seem like a complete angel from the stories.
"oh! this is y/n. your grandmother invited her to eat dinner with us." mrs. lee pulls your figure closer into a side hug and beams at her son.
he furrows his eyebrows at you, glancing back and forth at you and his mother. he must be as confused and shocked as you are. "hi." minho says, nodding at your direction. you purse your lips and shuffle uncomfortably in place.
minho again asks where the slow cooker was since the first time he asked was ignored. he was wearing a loose fitting shirt, his broad shoulders looking more prominent. you realize you've never seen him outside of his work attire before. he looked comfortable, domestic even.
his mom says to check the cupboards, paying him no mind and continuing to set the table up. minho nods slowly, eyes not leaving yours and heads back to the kitchen. a little shell shocked about your little encounter, you clear your throat and go back to the task at hand. you'd just have to deal with this for the evening and then you could go home.
when the table was done, mrs. lee turns to you, "y/n? would you mind helping minho over there with bringing the side dishes to the table?" you freeze at the realization that you would have to interact with him alone.
"sure." you say meekly. she thanks you and goes to the guest room to presumably get the older lady for dinner. psyching your self up before entering the kitchen, his broad back facing you. he senses your presence and chuckles.
you were sure he was going to make this whole night unbearable.
"well, this is a nice surprise."
"what are you doing here?" stupid question from you seeing as this was his own house. mentally face palming your head, he hums smugly and starts dividing the side dishes onto smaller plates. you notice his very toned arms flexing as he puts the tubs away.
"i should be asking you that. i didn't expect you to be here." he says nonchalantly, but you could feel a sly smile forming on his face as he speaks.
"neither did i." you grumble and lightly shove him aside, wanting to get the side dishes out to the table already. you ignore the way he looks so domestic right now.
-
you stare at him from directly across the table, hoping he would keep his mouth shut. he smirks while he eats, purposefully riling you up and glancing at you with a knowing grin.
do not lose your cool, y/n.
silence rings out the dining room aside from the quiet clattering of utensils on plates.
"y/n?"
"i'm sorry?" you snap out of your little less than friendly staring contest with him.
"do... you know each other?" his mother finally breaks the silence and here eyes flickers back and forth between both of you.
"yes-"
"no-"
a full on headache is surely forming now, it's going to be hard to hide your annoyance. quick, think of a lie.
"we're coworkers. same company." you grimace as he answers for the both of you. no use in hiding it now. "oh! that's wonderful." the older lady to your right clasps her hands in delight.
"you didn't tell me you worked together." grandma turns to you grinning brightly. you avoid eye contact with her, nodding and forcing out a smile. you wanted nothing more than want the ground to swallow you up right then and there.
"you two must be close." his mother says, sipping at her drink. you were about to open your mouth to say that you really aren't actually, but minho beats you to the punch.
"we kind of are." minho rests his elbows on the table and turns to you. he's enjoying this. the bastard was enjoying this. resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back to finish your meal.
hatred for the man aside, he really was a great cook as mentioned countless of times. you actually find yourself enjoying the meal he had prepared.
"tell me what you two get up to at work, i want to hear all of it."
you shift uncomfortably in your seat, being honest wouldn't be the best idea. you didn't want these two lovely women to know how much of an unpleasant man their son and grandson is. and it was his house after all, the best decision might be to at least be civil with him.
so you play along with his facade, not wanting to disappoint them even if it was probably going to bite you in the ass later.
minho starts cutting the meat up into bite sized pieces while the conversation between the two ladies continue. he places it on your plate without saying anything. this takes you by surprise, looking at his face for an answer.
the two audience members among the dining table seems to have noticed your little exchange. a wrinkly hand touches over yours catches your attention.
"oh, so are you two..." she trails off, implication heavy on her tone.
"no- no, grandma. i told you i wasn't seeing anyone." you shoot a discrete glare towards minho.
"ah, i see..."
you shrink down your seat for the remainder of the hour, embarrassment flooding your being. why did he have to do that? you were already practically fighting for your life not to get too involved with all this, and he pulls that?
after that very eventful dinner, it was already nearing 8 pm. you figured that you should probably get out of their hair, not wanting to disturb them than you already had. that bubble bath and movie marathon you had planned in your head sounded amazing right about now. maybe that would help you forget about this crazy night.
"grandma," she turns in response, "i think i better get going." you smile at her, digging through your pockets for the car keys. a different cat from the other two that you've met takes long strides, stopping by your feet. you greet it by petting it's head gently. you wondered how many cats they have.
"now? look at the weather dear," you look briefly at the window nearest you, surely enough it was heavily pouring. you deflate at the sight.
"i don't think it's a great idea to drive out in a storm." she looks at you in concern. crap. the conversation at dinner must've carried you away, not even noticing the angry rumble of thunder that came from the sky. she was right, you don't think you could drive out there immediately.
the last time you drove into hard pelting rain, you couldn’t see through the windshield and almost crashed your car in the process. you could still remember how your car swerved and screeched when you couldn't control the way the tires' direction.
reluctantly dropping your hands to your side in defeat, "i guess i can wait it out for a bit." you finally say.
"yes, please do stay. we made extra dessert!" mrs. lee chuckles, seemingly enjoying your presence. glancing at minho, he was leaning on the side of the couch watching the exchange between you three, uncharacteristically silent and expression unreadable.
you reckon he wasn't all that thrilled about the whole thing either.
-
"the storm isn't letting up." minho sighs next to you, observing the dark and heavy rain pelting the window. it continues to pour down, filing in the silence.
"great." you mumble lowly, crossing your arms. a loud cackle of thunder makes you jump from your spot. he just laughs in response. you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, anxiety quietly eating at you. damn weather man. you should've paid more attention to the forecast.
the smart watch on your wrist flashes with a notification. it was 11 pm now. "you should stay until tomorrow, dear."
you feel a comforting hand on your back, it was mrs. lee. it was only her staying with you two right now since grandma had already retired back to her room.
"tomorrow? oh, i- uh... i don't want to intrude." you stutter and look down, unsure how to accept her offer. but as much as you wanted to turn her down, you knew deep down you don't really have a choice in the matter.
another strike of thunder confirms your pitiful situation.
"i know what you're thinking, you can take minho's room." her words take you aback, that really wasn't what you were thinking. but she wasn't serious, was she?
at the mention of his name and apparent lending of his own bed, he whips his head towards his mother. he points to himself silently and gawks in disbelief.
you try to stifle a laugh at his ridiculous face. it wasn't often that you see minho all flustered.
realizing that mrs. lee might actually kick minho out of his room if you don't say anything, you decide to spare him. "that's okay, i'll take the couch."
"are you sure? the couch isn't the most comfortable..."
you reassure her that the couch is fine and not to worry. mrs. lee takes this as a confirmation that you'll stay for the night. she beams and grabs her son's shoulder,
"minho, do you have clothes that you can lend to y/n?" she catches you about to protest at the unnecessary offer, "don't worry about that, you're going to end up uncomfortable if you sleep in your clothes right now."
she leaves not long after with a quick good night to you both, also not leaving any room for any counter arguments. minho nods after registering what she said, hesitantly gesturing you to follow him towards the room at the end of the corridor.
he was quiet these past few hours, you observed. the annoying minho that you have gotten used to was no where to be found. putting yourself in his shoes, you understood. having a person that you dislike come into your home and spend the night would irk you as well.
the unexpected warm lighting and a subtle citrus scent with notes of jasmine and sandalwood welcomed you upon entering. it instantly brings comfort. not really expecting anything coming into his room, it was truly a pleasant surprise.
you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, not wanting to touch or disrupt any of his space or belongings. he heads straight to his closet near his bed.
"it's alright, uh..."
minho ignores your attempt to refuse and starts digging deep for clothes that he could lend.
okay, nevermind.
you quietly glance at the homey decor that adorns the wall of his bedroom. multiple pictures of what you assume to be his friends were strewn all across the room. some of them seemed to be taken when he was in high school and some more recent. there were doing various funny and serious poses, minho seems to be really well liked.
"alright,"
he starts handing you a pair of black jogging pants and a plain white t-shirt. you reluctantly take the pile of clothes from him, your fingers momentarily brushing. you were certain you could hear your pulse thump in your ears. it confuses you greatly.
"this is the smallest one i have, sorry."
he coughs and rubs his neck, "the bathroom is over there, if you wanna change."
awkwardly shuffling on the way to the bathroom, a sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you lock the door behind. why were you so affected by a simple touch of his fingers? this was minho. you quickly shove the odd feeling down.
you hold the white shirt up to your torso, it was definitely too big. the hem of the shirt reaching your thighs and sleeves reaching your elbows as well.
peeling out of your clothes, and hold up minho's large shirt to finally wear. as you put it on, you could faintly smell the cleanness of detergent and a faint musky patchouli scent. your cheeks burn with the realization that you were really going to spend the night here.
when you return to the empty main corridor, the leather couch was already set up with a cozy looking blanket and multiple plush pillows. you struggle to hide a smile.
-
tossing and turning, you struggle to find a comfortable position on the couch. the blanket proving to be too hot right now, you push it off. you check your phone out of boredom and the led screen lights up.
1:19 am. it was in the middle of the night and the rain continues to pour outside. the occasional rumble of thunder once again evoking anxiety in you. sighing, you don't think you will be getting any sleep tonight. it's just you and your thoughts for now.
thinking back to this afternoon, the whole situation seems so absurd and surreal. who would've thought that you and minho would pretend being friends even if it was just for one night. it was a strange chance of circumstance.
the door from the end of hallway opens, a scruffy and disheveled minho rubs his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. you sit up in curiosity to observe his sleepy state. he pads over the wooden floors to the kitchen looking for water, not sparing you a second glance.
when he was out of sight, you start thinking of ways to distract yourself, wanting to already succumb to slumber.
“oh, it’s you.” he says after coming back, finally noticing your slumped figure. "didn't sleep yet?" minho ruffles his hair haphazardly, trying to smoothen it down. you shake your head,
"insomnia. it's the thunder."
"ah."
"the couch is making your neck hurt isn't it?"
"yeah, that too."
he opens his mouth to hopefully offer another solution, but shuts it immediately. he wasn't sure if it would make you comfortable so he just stands there quietly.
"i'll go get you more pillows." he places his cup down on the coffee table before going to his room. minho stops in his tracks when he feels your fingers tug on his shirt. another strike of thunder flashes outside making you flinch.
"stay." you catch yourself saying before even realizing. it's selfish to ask but you don't think you could stand the thunder alone. watching him stare into your eyes, as if looking for an explanation- you offer him no words.
minho takes a seat at the end of the couch silently joining you, sipping at his mug. to fill the awkward silence, you clear your throat and fiddle with the ends of the cotton blanket.
you start thinking of ways to justify your selfish request of making him stay.
"i finished that damn paperwork you dumped on me. dick move by the way." you chortled to try to lighten the mood. he seems to notice your attempts to distract yourself and indulge your sudden desire to chat.
he folds his hands on his stomach, grinning. his bunny like teeth poking out. you always thought it was endearing. "it's fun seeing you all grumpy."
"sadist." you simper, the anger you felt from a yesterday dwindling at the surprisingly pleasant banter.
quietness takes over again. he stares into the celling, pondering. "i didn't know you were close with my grandmother." he says after a while. he avoids your gaze and places his mug back on the table.
"neither did i. it wasn't deliberate," you reply. he turns to you, curious about the story. so you explain to him how you met, for how long and that you didn't even recognize him despite seeing the photos.
he chuckles, "i bet it was this pose, wasn't it?" minho imitates the very same pose that he did in the photo, eliciting another laugh from you. it was exactly the same.
minho shuffles a little bit closer to you, now propping his arm on the back of the couch. you straighten up, now being hyperaware of his presence and proximity. he looks really different without his glasses.
a furry tail suddenly brushes against your exposed leg. you lean forward to check what had just rubbed past you, it was one of the cats. it meows for attention, pawing at the base of the couch.
"your cats are really cute." you watch him pick the orange haired feline and place it on his lap. one by one, two of the other cats that you've seen this afternoon start padding over to where you and minho were seated, jumping on the couch.
"that's dori," he points to the gray furred kitty. "doongie," an orange cat with a predominately white underbelly, "and soonie." the last one who's also orange but more so than the other. minho raises soonie's paw, waving it at you. cute.
"this one looks like you."
you scratch soonie's chin, the low purring getting louder the longer you do it. minho stares longingly at your eyes with an unreadable expression at the comment. you're not paying any attention to him.
after a while, the cats start to get tired of the two of you. they walk of to the end of the couch, now ignoring you and minho. you fold your arms and relaxing into the back of the couch, falling into a deep and comfortable silence that would be sorely missed.
"why do you hate me?" you say abruptly. the curiosity finally won, anxiety gnawing at your every fiber of your being. it was finally starting to be peaceful between you two and actually talking like normal people, your sudden comment might've affected it's chances of becoming true.
his head whips towards your direction in what you assume to be disbelief, furrowing his eyebrows. "since when did i hate you?"
you struggle to not scoff at his blatant charade, "minho, you have it out for me." this was strange and ridiculous. was he really being serious? how could he not be aware of the months of months of his incessant attitude towards you, and only you.
you remind yourself to be calm, to be civil. but he continues to feign ignorance. it was starting to get difficult.
"you don't treat me like the others, you constantly make my life harder by teasing me, and you dump your own paperwork on me. only me. the only time you talked to me normally was just a few minutes ago." your voice rising with exasperation.
"what did i do?" voice ultimately faltering, tired.
"i-..." minho refuses to meet your eyes, offering no solace.
instantly feeling vulnerable by your little outburst and by the lack of response on his end, you hug and bury the plush pillow for comfort. you wanted to go home. you wanted to go home and pretend this conversation did not happen. confrontation wasn't your strong suit.
after a long while of silence, he at last utters a low, "i'm so sorry."
"that was very, very stupid of me." minho's eyes are now trained on the hardwood floor, unable to even glance at you.
"what? the paperwork?" you scoff, "no, not just that. all of it."
you furrow your brows at him, "i just find you really really cute when you're mad." he continues. you stare at him, incredulousness and anger painting your features. before you could give him a piece of your mind, he speaks.
"and i realized i didn't know how to actually approach you normally without the teasing." he purses his lips, the cup on the table long forgotten. minho is staring up the celling now, still refusing to look to your direction.
"would you also believe me if i said i was jealous?"
you don't know what to say in return, heavily processing what he just said. what was happening? your mouth runs dry, confusion knocking the wind out of you.
"of your friend." he says, emphasizing the last part. you try to rack your brain of who he was referring to.
"jeongin?" you tilt your head. he says nothing, confirming the assumption. "i overheard him talking to his friends, bragging about how he was gonna take you out to this restaurant that he wants to drag you to." you couldn't possibly think of a reason why he would be jealous, you and jeongin are just friends. and why was he jealous in the first place?
"why are you so worked up about it? he's just a friend, minho."
"i'm not even sure myself," minho shakes his head in exasperation and turns to you. "but i like you, y/n."
standing there, paralyzed at his unexpected confession. minho likes you? he was giving you crap all year round, and yet he likes you? you shoot him a perplexed look, "wait, what?"
"let me get this straight," you hug your legs, trying to decipher what he was saying. "so your plan was to annoy the hell out of me, dump your paperwork seeing that you don't want me hanging out with jeongin because...you like me?"
"well, now it sounds stupid when you put it like that." he huffs, crossing his arms and pouting cutely.
deafening silence falls between you two, unable to say anything meaningful without stuttering and fumbling through your words. you just sat there, not really saying anything and staring at the floor. realizing that you probably don't feel the same, he sighs. its about time he went back to bed too.
"it's late. you should probably get some-"
before you knew it you felt your pulse roaring in your ears, grabbing his wrist and stopping him from standing up. you were going to regret it if you let him go.
"i like you too."
a magnetic pull causes you both to inch closer together, wordlessly gazing into each others eyes. you make the first move to lean into him, slowly placing an experimental peck on the side of his lips. you unsurely place your hands on his chest, "is this okay?"
his eyes flickering down to your lips and then back to your eyes. he licks his lips, still staring intensely- lovingly at you. he softly grins, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears and returns the kiss on your lips.
eyelids fluttering shut, you feel him press against you with much enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. you cup his cheeks as a reply, roughly pulling him towards you.
you already forgot about the rain outside.
he hoists you up his lap, a hand on your waist as he trails desperate kisses on your neck. minho pays his attention back to your lips, sloppy and open mouthed, saliva stringing from your mouths. urgency and eagerness was reflected in the way you both tangle your arms around each other, touching and caressing every part that you could reach.
all of the unresolved tension was slowly slipping away, replaced by desire.
a sudden meow breaks the two of you out of your trance. the green eyes of soonie stares up at the two of you, sitting quietly and their tail swishing side to side.
you loosen your arms around his neck, you two bursting out in laughter at the interruption.
"do you want to maybe take this to my room?" minho asks, placing a thumb on your lips. you didn't need to think twice.
-
your head hit his plush pillow, the cold and crisp linen feeling heavenly against your hot and flushed skin. shuffling up to the headboard, you watch minho with hazy eyes as he inches towards your form and props his knee on the edge of the bed.
he smirks as he sinks down on the mattress, hovering over your feverish body. minho sneaks a hand behind your back, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over so effortlessly to the top as if you weighed nothing.
"now, where were we?" he murmurs into the column of your neck, his hot breath sending tingling and electrifying shivers down your spine. you respond by trailing your hands all over his clothed chest, wanting to get the offending article of clothing off.
he chuckles and grabs your wrists, halting you from doing so. minho kisses the inside of your wrist, a teasing smile dawns on his face. you look at him with desperate, pleading eyes, wanting to have him already.
minho adjusts his tight hold on you, biting his plush lips in anticipation. with you now towering over his figure, you lean down to capture the lips that you had been fantasizing about all evening and bury your hands into his hair. the kiss was wet and messy, your tongues sloppily and desperately swallowing each other's moans. a trail of saliva strings from both of your lips.
it was starting to get too hot for your liking. you cease your movements for a second to remove minho’s borrowed shirt from your body. minho’s eyes shamelessly rake over your chest, his finger leisurely trailing the middle of your breasts. you let out a low chuckle, finally unclasping the hook of your bra. you release a breathy shudder upon feeling something hard poking you from where you sat. grabbing both of his wrists, you eagerly put them up to your tits, you could feel your sensitive nipples harden because of his cold touch. minho starts pinching at the sensitive buds, prolonging his eye contact with you, clearly enjoying your erratic squirming.
you suck in a sharp breath and almost topple over him in pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth, hot, warm, and wet. it was overwhelming, having no one touch you like this before. he continues to lap at your hardening bud. minho groans, closing his eyes and further burying his head in your chest. your tits were covered in spit, glistening under the subtle light of his night lamp.
minho, while smothering himself in your chest, takes a moment to hook his arm over you. his skillful hands trail over to the waistband of your jogging pants and pulls it down. you oblige, leaning closer to him and lifting your hips so he wouldn’t have to leave your tits. you jump in surprise once you feel a light teasing smack on your now semi exposed ass, only covered by thin panties. it elicits a small moan from you, pulling his head closer. you lightly pet his head and thread your hands in his hair affectionately as he continues his sucking, feeling a coiling sensation from your core.
but before you could cum, he detaches from your breasts, leaving his lips glistening with his own spit and his breath raggedy. a sly grin that you have come to love and hate graces his face upon seeing you whimper. the lack of stimulation makes you deflate, heaving frustratedly at his relentless teasing.
the familiar throbbing heat from your pussy suddenly gives you an idea. his hungry gaze watches you in curiosity. the bulge you were currently sitting on now immediately taking all of your attention. you do an experimental hump on it, hoping to relieve the aching heat from your cunt. minho's hands fly to your hips, groaning at the sensation.
"all this time, you made me think that you hated me-" you moan out, the fabric of his pants providing just the right amount of resistance. "when really you liked me?"
he stifles his moans by biting his bottom lip, his pants surely soaked through now.
"i did say i liked seeing you mad." minho manages to grunt out, licking his lips. you almost reel in disbelief but you keep your composure.
"you're confusing." another thrust.
"and i'm still mad at you." you huff out. hips now wildly humping against every ridge and curve of his cock. the sight of him makes you delirious, even more so that you’re humping against him.
"i-i'll make it up to you," he murmurs lowly, hissing the more times you buck up against him. "fu-fuck..."
despite the way that you were using him, it does nothing to quell the horniness you were feeling, in fact, it even spurs you on further. the wet patch from your panties soak and slowly transfer on to the front of his pants, your own wetness spreading messily every time you grind on his delicious dick, the ridges providing the needed friction that you've been so desperately craving. minho watches you, your tits bouncing up and down- he feels like drooling. "i love it when you use me." he finally breathes out, hands still on your hips, his nails making crescents on your skin. and finally, you cum, his words sending you over the edge.
it tremors through your body, white hot cum leaks out from your panties and you can’t seem to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on his broad chest. you clench your eyes shut in shyness, suddenly embarrassed from using minho so blatantly. he coos and pats your head in comfort, almost like how he pets his cats.
planning to make it up to him and eat his words, you sit up and shuffle down his hips. you admire the wet patch that stains his front, mouth watering. this surprises him, watching you with tantalizing eyes. you make a move to grab at his waistband, pulling it down slowly. he hisses out in pleasure as the waistband runs over his still clothed dick. minho’s boxers were thoroughly wet, you could see a dark patch on the front where you sat on him and where precum leaked out. you lift up a hand to experimentally give his bulge a tight little squeeze, him letting out a little shudder response.
it hardens even more under your touch- so you decide to tease him to test the waters even further, running your fingers over and over his tent causing him to hiss out, sending you a warning look. taking this as a sign, you lift the waistband of his boxers and stare at his eyes while doing so. it springs up immediately after freeing it from its confines. his long and fat cock stands tall, the tip a deep red, and the veins prominently running along the sides. the sight makes your mouth water in anticipation. you place a thumb on his cockhead, running slow circles on his slit causing it to drool heavily on your hand.
his cat like mouth parts in ecstasy once you start teasing the underside of his length with your hand and licking the oozing liquid up. minho’s hips start thrusting at the sensation, forcing you to hold him down. it was admittedly hard to do so, his thick thighs almost the size of your head but you still managed to restrain him from rutting wildly. the groan that leaves his lips sound is absolutely nothing short of sinful when you finally put your mouth on him. every desperate huff from him leaves you light headed, wishing you could record and replay it over and over again. when couldn’t fit all of him, you resorted to pumping the remaining of the shaft were you couldn’t reach. you egg him on even further by running a hand over his abs, seeing how his thighs and abdomen tense up.
you look up through your lashes to watch minho unravel. his eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the stimulation. while it bobs messily in your mouth, you try to pay special attention to his hot and heavy balls, rubbing it back and forth in the palm of your hand, hoping to get him to cum. minho closes his eyes shut again and tenses his thighs, finally cumming. his hands travel down to grasp at his length, taking it over yours, spurting his essence everywhere. minho finishes with a loud relieved groan, slapping his dick lazily against your cheek which you greedily lapped at.
“that might be the best head i’ve ever had, bunny.” he bites his lips, his voice light and airy. you quickly sit up from your position and gawked at him, suddenly feeling bashful at his apparent pet name for you.
minho gives you a mischievous cat like grin in return, feeling absolutely delighted at your expression. he begins to lightly graze your leg, leaving tentative touches and gentle pecks along the stretch of your lower limb. lifting your right leg up, you stop minho from inching any closer towards you by putting your foot on his chest.
"y/n..."
you pretend to think for a moment, stretching this out for as long as possible. he would just have to wait since he had yet to make up for being so mean to you. a little fun also wouldn’t hurt, right? no, you were quite wrong.
minho again grabs your ankle albeit more roughly this time and continues to place chaste kisses with more passion this time, clearly adamant about giving your legs and thighs hickeys. at long last, minho slides the wet and abused fabric off you, the panty is thoroughly soaked and it’s material sticking and clinging to your core.
he hooks ur leg over his shoulder, urging to part your legs apart and spreading them obscenely open. staring intensely into your eyes, minho starts teasing your core with feather light touches. “you like this?” he says his mischievous grin, continuing his ministrations. you offer him no response as he traces figures and shapes on your wet pussy that has you seeing stars. his fingers now erratically sliding up and down your folds. you almost sob at his nonchalant teasing, eyes clenching shut and begging him to put something in.
something about observing his veiny hand treading lightly just the outside of your lower lips leads you to tuck your face into your hands, the sight was like straight out of porn. “no, no. hands up bunny.” minho takes a hold of your wrists, putting them effortlessly above your head.
“you have to look.”
his free hand drags along your legs to pull them apart and starts lowering his chiseled face down to your core. his nose just close enough to feel the small exhaling puffs of hot air on your pussy, causing it to twitch in suspense. the brunette sneaks a peak at your trembling figure before diving right in, the first contact of his tongue on your cunt was searing hot, instantly making jolt out in shock and cry out. minho takes this as a sign to hold down your hips, pressing, flattening, and letting his tongue rampant against you all while avoiding your clit. he hums at the taste, huffing and delving further into your pussy, eating you out with such intensity, placing open mouthed sloppy kisses. he spits to make your pussy wetter so he could languidly and erratically make out with your cunt.
you throw your head back into the heaps of pillows behind you as he starts to pay attention to your clit, softly biting the bundle of nerves. minho then moves to swipe his index up at the large amount of cum and spit trickling from your core, using it as lube for his fingers. he gently prods his index in your entrance all while still licking you up. his long fingers, deliciously stretching your hole, deeper than all those nights you've tried to do so yourself. the bliss you were feeling was overwhelming. minho croaks out a little ‘hah, hah, hah…” every time he would come up for breath, completely drunk off your musky and intoxicating scent. you also don’t miss how he subtly humps the bed sheets he was lying under either. you began to arch your back upon hearing his desperate sounds, your arousal spurting on his face.
minho looks like a cat who got the cream, his pupils blown wide open and wetness trickling down the side of his mouth. he lets go of your hands after you were finished, the numb arm falling on your forehead as you catch your breath. he stands up to re-adjust your form on the bed, pulling you closer to his pelvis.
minho stares at your eyes, asking silently for permission. you look up at him with a toothy- fucked out grin.
the feelings that you couldn't place earlier was now clear, you wanted him.
minho reaches a hand over your face, caressing your flushed cheeks. he wordlessly leans to tenderly place a kiss onto your forehead and on your lips. you reciprocate lovingly, capturing his lips once again. minho without warning, pushes his long and girthy dick into you, the abrupt intrusion making you sob out. the bulbous head of his cock rubs deliciously against your gummy walls, you swore you could feel it in your throat.
“there we go. there we go…”
minho sets a rough pace, his hips thrusting against your pelvic bone. “ah-ah!”
toned and skillful arms cage you in, forcing you to look deep into his dark pools. "you better keep quiet, or else the whole house will hear you." that for some reason makes your cunt even wetter, weeping more than you thought was possible. the sole idea of getting caught with their precious son doing such lewd acts, it seems sacrilegious and absolutely sinful.
he once again reaches for your hardened nipple, tweaking and pinching the bud between his thumb and index. the bed was now creaking with how fast minho was going, you silently prayed that no one in the house suspects anything. the thought mortifies you.
minho leans against your figure and nuzzles up on your chest, looking up at you with an oh so innocent grin while he continues to pound your cunt. his movements start to stutter once he feels your walls clench around him. your mind begins to feel like mush but you still try to make an effort to suppress your groans of pleasure. a strangled sound between a moan and a whine leaves your throat once he hits that one particular spot in you.
“keep quiet, little kitty.”
you start squirming uncontrollably at the huskiness of his voice, not having experienced an intense orgasm like this before. “cum, you can do it.” your rutting hips stop to convulse for a moment, feeling your orgasm rip through the ends of your nerves. leaning back on his chest, you struggle to catch your breath, heaving from the aftermath of your orgasm.
fogginess still clouding your vision, you caught a small glimpse of minho to notice that he still hadn’t pulled out, his hands circling your waist gently. you unintentionally clench on his cock, yep he was still hard, very hard. minho sets his eyes on you, and gives you that look. oh no, you knew that look. the same one that he uses around the office to persuade a higher up to heed to his request. you nibble on your lower lip in excitement.
“one more, you can do one more right?” he coos, lifting your legs and his hips starting his monstrous once pace again. you double over in overstimulation, crying out in pleasure. his breath hitches after a particularly hard thrust, choosing to muffle his own cries by shoving his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your exhilarating scent. you respond by coyly playing with the hair on his nape, hoping that it would ground you to reality.
minho then sneaks a hand from below you and hugs your figure, pulling you impossibly closer. he swallows your moans, kissing you feverishly and running his hands wildly all throughout. it was so urgent, so intense, like he’s finding a way to meld your bodies together, his erratic and messy thrusts reflecting that.
your fingers clutch his thick bed sheets, euphoria piercing your body every time he drives another rough thrust into you. the lewd noises coming from the two of you echos and bounces off the walls, the conversation tomorrow morning was going to be so humiliating and awkward at the dining table.
you can’t hold it in any longer, and by the looks of it, neither can he. minho cums with a loud groan, spurting inside you. "goooood kitty." minho rasps out. you gape at the warmness, causing you to finish as well. minho reaches his hand downwards to spread your combined release, spreading it messily. it drips out of you obscenely as he pulls out.
you were positively flushed. he was too, sweat still glistening on the wide expanse of his chest and forehead. minho brushes your hair back affectionately before plopping down tiredly next to you. you turn to him, wanting to admire his fucked out features but he looks occupied and staring into space.
“what's the matter?”
"i really am sorry about the misunderstanding. i feel terrible that i made you feel like that. and i do really like you. wasn't lying about that." minho sighs out, closing his eyes for a moment and then faces you. “i want to start over, properly this time.”
"apology accepted. and yeah of course." you say, quite happy with how this whole misunderstanding turned out. "i really like you too." he kisses the top of your head, making you wrap an arm around him to cuddle.
"now you'll just have to figure out how to reject the girl beside your desk. she wants to ask you out."
"maybe we can start by just making out in front of her."
#stray kids smut#skz smut#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz scenarios#stray kids hard thoughts#lee know#lee know x reader#lee know smut#lee minho x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids angst#skz fluff#skz angst
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Hey love I absolutely love your fics 🥰 I was wondering if you could write a dark toxic romance for Lando or Charles or even Logan where she’s the girl next door??? I love you keep it up ❤️
Crazy For You || LN4
Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, gaslighting, dub/con, dark themes
WC: 4k
Part one || part two || part three || part four
It had been two months since you moved into your apartment in Monaco and you still hadn’t managed to introduce yourself to your neighbour. He kept strange hours and seemed to be away more than he was there. From what you had glimpsed, you had been delighted to see he was probably around your age and quite handsome in an innocent way. Mr Riley on the other hand was a stoic old man who only spoke to you when your cat climbed over the balcony and into his space.
Known for its year-round beauty and calm climate, Monaco had welcomed you with a comfortable breeze and enough sun to warrant leaving the house without a jacket, even at dusk on a winter's night. If you had checked the weather reports you would have seen that a storm was quickly blowing in from the coast - arriving by the time you had finished having a few cocktails with your new friends.
Christmas lights twinkled around the shop fronts as you exited the bar and nutcrackers stood proud in doorways. You always loved Christmas and seeing the smiles it put on children’s faces but there were no children out this late.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” Luke asked as he twirled his keys around his finger. “It’s about to start raining.”
“She’s good,” someone answered for you and you looked over to see your elusive neighbour at your side, his hand coming to rest in the small of your back. “I can take her home.”
“You didn’t tell us Lando was picking you up.”
Your mouth was dry and you didn’t know what to say as the liquor, or his presence, left you confused. Lando, you stored that piece of information away and tried to figure out why it sounded so familiar.
“I was just out doing some Christmas shopping and about to head home,” he said with a smile. “Ready?”
“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled as you let him guide you away from your friends.
“Are you sure?” Luke asked with a frown. “You don’t look comfortable. Do you even know him?”
“Kind of, I’m just surprised,” you assured him. “Lando is my neighbour.”
“Okay, well, text me when you get home.”
You gave Luke a nod and waved to the others before going your separate ways.
“Are you cold?” Lando asked, already slipping his arms out of the jacket he wore over a dark hoodie.
The alcohol had made you numb to the temperature but you let him drape it over your shoulders anyway, wrapping you in the decadent scent that came along with it.
“Thanks.”
“Any time, it’s what neighbours do.”
“I don’t think Mr Riley would,” you teased.
“The grumpy old guy in 4C? We just call him Carl, like the movie Up.”
You smiled awkwardly and toyed with the zip on the jacked. “I’ve never seen it.”
“What?” He pulled you to a stop and grabbed your shoulders with a serious look on his face. “This just won’t do. I cannot be seen with someone who hasn’t watched Up!”
“Oh,” you mumbled as you started to take off his jacket and hand it back.
“What are you doing, you muppet?” He grabbed the jacket and put it back on your shoulders before opening the door to a very expensive looking car.
“I thought you meant…”
“It’s fine, I have tinted windows,” he teased. “As soon as we get home though, we’re watching the movie.”
Lando followed you inside without an invitation but you could hardly turn him away with his boyish smile and mop of curly hair that sprung out of his hoodie when he pushed it back. “This makes sense,” he chuckled as he stuck his head in the bedroom, pointing to the wall that your bed was pushed against. “Our apartments are mirrored. I thought I woke up to a voice a few times. Do you watch Friends?”
Your head tilted at the odd question. “Why do you ask?”
“You sing ‘smelly cat’ a lot.”
Mortification hit you and you felt your face burn as you turned to the culprit walking through your house with a loud purr. “That’s Eddie. Do you have any pets?”
“No, I’m always travelling for work and I’m not very good at looking after myself let alone another living thing. Do you actually know how to use those things?”
You looked at the kitchen where he was pointing to the appliances. You had planned to make some Christmas cookies over the weekend and had the stand mixer ready on the benchtop. You thought he was joking but he was genuinely intrigued by the inquisitive look of wonder on his face. “Cooking relaxes me,” you said with a shrug. “You probably have plans already but if you want to come over and-”
“Absolutely, say no more, I’m in.” He crossed the living room and dropped into the middle cushion of the three seater sofa and patted the space beside him with one hand, the other reaching for the remote. “You do have Disney+, right?”
“You really do like to make yourself comfortable, don’t you,” you joked as you took a seat beside him.
“I’ve been told I can be a bit much,” he said with a small frown, placing the remote down. “Should I go?”
“No, no, I appreciate the company,” you said as you caught his arm to stop him from going. “Being alone in a new country is a little isolating, it’s nice having someone here.”
He settled back into the seat and sent you a grin as he searched for the movie. “Anytime you need someone to talk to, you can just knock three times.”
The weeks before Christmas were a madhouse. Work kept you busy as well as the many requests to go home for the holidays, but it just wasn’t going to be feasible to take leave so soon after starting. You knew your parents were going to be disappointed but you promised them you weren’t going to be alone for Christmas.
You had eventually found out why Lando’s name was so familiar when Luke explained who he was and why he was away so often. But since the race season was over he had plenty of time to spend at home, yours and his.
Just like every other evening, you knocked three times on the living room wall knowing Lando would be able to hear it despite the special Christmas Eve stream he was on. It was the last one of the year and he wished everyone a Merry Christmas before the live feed of him playing Counter Strike came to an end.
“Ouch, Eddie, fuck,” Lando swore a few minutes later as he knocked at your door. “Stop it.”
You opened the door to the frequent occurrence and took the hissing Eddie from his outstretched arms before he could get clawed again. Your ginger cat seemed to hate Lando for some reason, or maybe it was because he was always bringing the escapee back home to you.
“I think you should just move in with me,” Lando joked as he followed the mouthwatering scent into your kitchen. He came to your house for dinner most nights after finding Eddie on his balcony and usually stayed for a movie. That routine had changed slightly when the movie he chose one night was Friends With Benefits. There had been a moment after a sex scene when you both looked across at each other and the idea had passed between your eyes.
He cleared his throat and you realised you had been staring at him for too long. “Eddie likes my place better.”
It clicked, he wasn’t actually asking you to move in with him. But for a moment you had considered it.
“Right, Eddie,” you laughed at your idiocracy. “I really don’t know how he keeps getting out. I must be going crazy because I’m sure I locked the window this morning.”
You both looked at the window that opened onto the balcony, the skies dark with another storm. “Maybe your cat is a genius and learned how to open it?”
You rolled your eyes but managed a laugh at his attempt to make you feel better while you readied two plates and took them to the table where he sat. “Maybe I should change his name to Houdini.”
“Better than Ed the Ginger.” Lando grinned as he pulled you onto his lap and scooped up a dollop of creamy mash potato with his forefinger, holding it up to your mouth. You sealed your lips around his finger and swirled your tongue around the tip, watching the blue of his eyes be swallowed by his pupils. “Naughty girl, you’ll be getting coal this year.”
Your head fell back with a laugh.“Who are you? Santa Claus?”
“Well, you are sitting on my lap, aren’t you?” He winked and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “Wanna see my North Pole?”
“Oh my god, eat your dinner,” you giggled. “We still have to watch A Christmas Carol and Nightmare Before Christmas!”
You had both written a list of all the Christmas movies you wanted to watch and they were the last two left. It was just in time as midnight was going to come all too soon and you wanted to be tucked up warm in bed when the storm hit.
A loud crash had you jolting awake and you blindly reached across the bed in search of Lando to find it empty. Panic gripped you as you wondered if you were being broken into and a scream almost erupted when your light flipped on and Lando rushed in soaking wet.
“Holy shit, you’ll never believe what just happened!”
You stumbled into the living room where Lando threw an arm out to save you from stepping on the glass that covered the floor. The doors that opened out onto your balcony had been completely shattered during the storm and you shivered as the cold wind and rain blew straight into your home. A huge puddle was quickly spreading across the carpet and it was making its way to the Christmas tree in the far corner while you were still in shock.
“The presents!”
Lando twisted away from the pot plant that had been on your balcony wall, now it lay on the floor with the dirt turning to mud. Seeing the urge you had to cut across the glass, he shook his head and pointed to the kitchen where you would remain safe. “I’ll get them.”
Lando carefully navigated his way to the tree, turning off the power to the glittering lights, and bundled the gifts up before hopping his way back with a wince. The wrapping paper on some of the presents were splattered with rain drops but most seemed in perfect condition when he placed them on the kitchen bench.
“You’re bleeding,” you gasped as he balanced on one foot and you wrapped an arm around his waist to help him. “There’s a first aid kit in my bathroom. Can you make it there?”
He nodded and limped with your help away from the mess. “I think you should come and stay at my place until the doors can be fixed.”
“Are you sure?” you asked as you carefully used a pair of tweezers to pull out the small sliver of glass in his foot. “I can just get a hotel.”
“Ouch,” he groaned as it came free and blood welled at the site. “Not on Christmas Day, everywhere will be fully booked. I really don’t mind. It would save you from having to pack a bag.”
“If you’re sure…”
He smiled at the silly Spider-Man bandaid you placed over the wound before running the back of his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I am.”
You shivered at his cold touch and remembered how wet he was when you woke up. “What were you doing up anyway?”
He bit his lip and looked away sheepishly. “I was putting a present under the tree when a flower pot blew through the door.”
“Oh, wow, that wind must be insane. I hope all the boats are safe out there,” you mused, knowing some people lived on the mariner. “Wait, you got me another present? Lando, there’s already too many.”
“I wanted to spoil you,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “You have single handedly kept me fed for weeks. You may have put a few restaurants out of business too.”
“You weren’t that bad were you?”
“You have no idea,” he chuckled. After testing his foot he took your hand and led you back to the presents to find a thin box that hadn’t been under the tree when you went to bed. “It’s after midnight, you know, you could open it.”
You took the box, surprised by the weight it had, and untied the pretty bow on top. The delicate silver writing drew a gasp and you looked at Lando with wide eyes. “Tiffany? I can’t open this, it’s too much.”
“Go on,” he urged as he placed your hand on top of the lid and gave it a squeeze. “Please, for me.”
Your fingers slipped twice as you tried to open the hinge and Lando’s hand enveloped yours, lifting it open to reveal the beautiful necklace within. The teardrop gemstone was the same shade as his eyes and it hung from a white gold chain that was polished to shine impossibly bright, even in the dim light.
“Lando, it’s beautiful,” you whispered in awe as he lifted it up and stepped behind you to drape it around your neck. The weight of the stone settled in the centre of your chest and you turned to face him with a sincere, “Thank you.”
“So..?” He bit his lip as he showed you the empty box, a question written in the silk lining. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
It wasn’t until the week after New Years that a glazier would be able to fix your doors. The holidays had left a backlog of people needing repairs but supply chains had been delayed too. Once the doors were finally fixed you realised the carpet was beyond repair and that took another week to have done.
It was strange to go back home after nearly three weeks of living in Lando’s apartment. It was too quiet.
“Babe, have you seen my hairbrush?” You had looked through the bathroom drawers he had cleared out for you to use but there was nothing left. You went back to your apartment and did another search but it wasn’t there either. It wasn’t the first thing you had lost going back and forth and you were beginning to worry.
“I’m sure it will turn up somewhere, love,” Lando said as he paused his game and turned to his friend in the simulator behind him. “Max probably used it.”
“Did not,” his friend replied with an indignant splutter. “Didn’t I see you singing into a hairbrush?”
“You’ve been experimenting with drugs again,” Lando snorted. With a resigned sigh, you decided your hair was decent enough to get away with at work and Lando tipped his head back so you could give him a kiss goodbye. “I’ll order dinner tonight. Chinese?”
“Sounds good,” you said as you gave Max a wave on the way to the door. “Try not to let him sit there all day, you know how his back gets.”
“Yes, yes, Lando has an old man’s back. I’ll make sure he moves his ass at some point,” Max joked. “Have fun at work.”
You screwed up your face at the sarcasm and their laughs followed you out of the apartment. You weren’t sure they had actually moved all day as they were still in the same spots when you got home. You had crossed paths with the delivery man in the lobby and your arms were laden with the takeaway Lando had ordered.
“How many spring rolls did you order?” you murmured as you kept unpacking more and more of the small styrofoam boxes with the treat.
“He’s going for a record,” Max said with a roll of his eyes. Ten minutes later Lando groaned, holding his stomach tightly. “I told you to stop.”
You had quickly showered and changed into some comfortable clothes and found most of the boxes empty when you joined them at the table. “How many has he had?”
“18, and he’s got no chance,” Max bet, reaching over to steal a spring roll for himself and swiping it through the sweet chilli sauce. “You’ll thank me later. Ah, fuck.” Max looked down at the red blotch on his white Quadrant shirt before sauntering off down the hall. “Mate, do you have any more stain remover? This one’s empty.”
“Yeah, under the sink there should be another bottle,” Lando yelled back, dropping his fork onto his plate in defeat. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Why the hell do you have cat food?” Max appeared in the living room with the same brand of pet food you bought for your cat.
“That’s not mine, obviously.”
You looked at Lando, who was rubbing his full stomach and as reclined back as much as the chair would allow. “It’s not mine.”
“You brought it over during the storm, remember?”
“No I didn’t.” You hadn’t wanted to disrupt Eddie’s routine and fed him at home each morning before work.
“Yes, you did.” He laughed as he tapped your temple gently. “You have a terrible memory, love. You can’t even remember where you left your hairbrush.”
You didn’t have an argument for that, since you still hadn’t found it. You were sure you hadn’t brought any cat food over, but maybe he was right. You did seem to be a little confused lately.
“I think I need an early night,” you admitted as you cleaned up the dishes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re not staying?” Lando asked with a pout as he joined you at the sink, wrapping his arms around your waist and peppered your neck with soft kisses. “Who am I going to cuddle with?”
“I’m sure Max wouldn’t mind a snuggle,” you teased him as you turned in his arms. “I have an early start tomorrow but I can stay tomorrow night.”
He groaned at the thought of sleeping alone and held you tighter so he could have you in his arms a little longer. “Fine,” he huffed, relinquishing his hold on you and filling the kettle. “I’ll make you a chamomile tea so you sleep better.”
You smiled at his sweetness and savoured a few more minutes of kisses before the water boiled and he scooped out a few spoons of some boutique tea leaf mix he swore was the best sleep tea money could buy. Given how rich he was, you believed him.
Placing the hot mug in your hand, he bit his swollen lip and nodded to the front door. “Go before I tie you to my bed and never let you leave.”
“You wouldn’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes as he winked. “Goodnight, baby.”
“Goodnight, love, sweet dreams.”
Something disturbed your sleep and you rubbed your eyes as you woke up well before your alarm. You reached for the lamp beside your bed and accidently knocked into the cup of tea you hadn’t finished before falling asleep, the cold liquid sloshing over the side before you caught it and froze.
Your bedroom door creaked open but it was too dark to see who it was. Your heart hammered in your chest as you tried to think of what to do before the shadow reached the edge of your bed. Your throat was so clogged with fear you couldn’t even scream, your hands trembled and closed them into fists before banging on the wall behind you, begging Lando would wake up at the sound.
Bang, bang, bang.
The figure lunged onto the bed, pinning you down with their weight and slamming your fists into the mattress. “Shh, love, it’s me.”
You relaxed as Lando’s voice soothed you, but the fear soon crept back up your spine with an icy shiver. “How did you get in here?”
“You forgot to lock your door,” he whispered as your wrists began to ache from the hold he had. “I was coming to check in on you.”
“No, I didn’t,” you said as you tried to shake him off. “I know I locked it. I know…I…I’m not crazy. Get off me, get off me right now.”
“You were meant to be asleep, love,” he groaned as his hands tightened to the point a pained cry escaped your gritted teeth.
“Why are you doing this?” you whimpered as he kissed your neck, but you couldn’t feel anything but repulsion.
“You should have just moved in with me, we are meant to be together.”
“You’re crazy,” you spat as you tried to buck your hips and throw him off but he was too strong. “Help! Somebody, help!”
His hand clamped over your mouth and you bit him as hard as you could before kicking and climbing away.
“I’m not the crazy one, that’s you, love,” he laughed. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re sick, but I’m going to take care of you, okay?”
“You are fucking insane!”
“No, no, sweetheart, I’m trying to help you, remember?”
You froze in the doorway as you saw a cutout of your key on the kitchen bench, along with your hairbrush, phone, a negligee and dressing gown. All things you had been convinced you had lost in the last few weeks.
“Why are you doing this?” you repeated as you backed away from your boyfriend. He was someone you had trusted, someone you thought had fit perfectly into your new life - but he had been messing with you this whole time. Max and the cat food came to mind. “Eddie…he used to go to Mr Riley’s house.”
“Couldn’t have that,” Lando tutted with a shake of his head as he took a step closer, “not when he was going to help me get close to you.”
“Don’t! Don’t come any closer to me!”
“Baby, don’t be like that, let’s just go back to bed. You’re under a lot of stress, let me make you a chamomile tea.”
You swiped your phone up as you bolted but he was quicker and blocked the front door, holding his hand out. “Give that to me, you don’t want to do that.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” you hissed as you started to dial the emergency number.
“It’s you they will take away,” he said with a blase shrug that made you pause. “Everyone knows how unstable you have become.”
“Me?” you shrieked.
“You’re barely holding it together now. They aren’t going to believe anything you say.” He opened his arms as if to say, I’m famous and you are no one. Unfortunately, he was right. “Come on, love, let’s go back to bed.”
He took the phone from your limp hand and locked it before slipping it into his pocket. You were so confused that you had no idea what to do when he guided you back to the bed, turning the sheets down before tucking you in gently. “I love you,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead and handed you the cold mug. “Drink up, baby, this is all just a bad dream.”
Click here for the next morning.
#dark!lando#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula one fanfiction#f1 rpf
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The birthday gift
A Halsin x reader fanfiction | Explicit, 18+ | 7k words
A/N: Okay since the Halsin brainrot has had its hold on me for ages, I started this fic on my birthday in december, not expecting to ever finish it because I have literally never finished anything I've started writing before- until now. I got inspired to write this by this post (for the birthday part, the smut part is my own horny imagination) and well, this is the final product. Since it's my first time publishing any of my writing and writing smut at all, please be kind with me XD
Summary: Your companions prepare a surprise birthday party for you, Halsin sees you in your new dress, you two dancing leads to him confessing his feelings for you and a very happy ending...
CW: halsin x f!reader, virgin reader, halsin eating pussy, fingering, p in v sex, breeding, rough sex i guess, halsin being the man he is, all that stuff idk what to write here really
I hope you enjoy it, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3
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You and your companions had finally reached Baldur’s Gate. It’s still morning when you enter Rivington that day and the streets are busy with all kinds of people, many seemingly refugees from Elturel and farther away, here to find shelter in the city. As you continue down the road to the village in front of the city gates, you are stopped by a little red-headed girl.
“Erm. ‘Scuse me, I can’t find my mum.” She looks worn out and as if she has recently been crying.
“Where did you last see her?” you ask as you bend down to her, smiling to show you want to help.
“She went to go get some herbs - for her spots” she gestures towards her face. “She was sick. And she was supposed to come back the same day.” She pauses before adding, “That was last tenday though.”
“Let’s go find a guard. They’ll be able to help you”, you propose.
The girl shakes her head. “Guards blow like petards. They don’t help us.”
Your heart sinks at these words. It seems all these people were here because the city wouldn’t take them in. And the guards are no help either, apparently. You wonder what happened to your city, where once everyone was welcome.
Halsin sighs and shakes his head in disapproval. “This city is a poor place to be in need of help. Even the guards can’t be trusted to protect the most vulnerable.”
You silently agree and think of how you could help that girl. You decide to spare a few coins, so she can buy herself some food.
“I don’t know where your mum is, but here - take a few coins”, you offer her, not able to tell her that her mother is most likely dead. Halsin smiles at you warmly as you shoot him a quick glance, the sight making your heart skip a beat.
“Oh - erm. Thank you so much! I don’t have anything and you can’t do anything without any coin”, the little girl exclaims, bobbing on her toes and suddenly looking a little less tired. “I’ll pay you back. When I find my mum.” She turns around and bolts. “No need, it’s a gift!” you call after her but she has already vanished in the crowd.
You finally arrive at Wyrm’s Rock Crossing in the evening, after you had snuck past one of the new city guards - the so-called Steel Watch - and promised to investigate the murder of the local Ilmater priest. Another incident that seems to fuel the hate towards the refugees.
And that isn’t even all. The city is closed, even for you as a Baldurian, and to get in you’d need an Admission Pass - or wings. You sigh. You just want to get into the city, rent a room in the Elfsong and think about what to do next, now that the Absolute’s army must soon be upon the city.
It’s all too much and too little time. And you can’t just turn away from the people you met in Rivington either, they need help just as much as you need to find out how to beat the Absolute’s Chosen and get rid of the tadpoles.
When you make your way around camp that evening, checking up on your companions, Halsin notices your exhaustion, the way you slump your shoulders and how your usually impeccable stance falters. He wants to relieve you of at least a bit of the tension, so when you walk over to him, he offers you a massage. The things he wants to say to you can wait until tomorrow.
“Thank you, Halsin”, you accept, his hands turning you around and gently pushing you down to sit on your knees before him. You sigh as his broad hands knead the tension from your back and by the time he is finished, you feel like a sleepy, boneless lump of flesh, muscles completely relaxed. You thank Halsin again before you retire to your bedroll, the hopeful thought that the offer might’ve been more than Halsin’s usual kindness crossing your mind before you drift off to sleep.
The next evening, you were finally inside the city walls. You consider the new information of the day. How you got your hands on an invitation to the celebration at Wyrm’s rock fortress, your disbelief to see that it was Lord Gortash’s coronation as Arch Duke, how he made the tadpoled Duke Ravengard give up his power and how Bane’s Chosen then proposed an alliance against Orin, the shapeshifter that had already approached you in Rivington. You had agreed to kill her, but you definitely wouldn’t leave Gortash his Netherstone. But that is a problem for another day. You had managed to get a room in the Elfsong Tavern and as usual you make your way through it to hear what your companions think of all that had happened today. Most approve of your decision. Halsin is the last person you speak to and as always, he has just the right words to ease your worries. For now, at least.
“Wait-”, he grabs your arm before you can leave. “I didn’t thank you yet.” His large hand is warm and makes your skin tingle where it touches you.
“Thank me? For what?” He chuckles at your puzzled look. “For all that you did in Rivington yesterday. You have so many worries and yet you still go out of your way to help those in need. The way you made that little girl smile, or how you didn’t hesitate to investigate what happened to that Ilmater priest.” A blush creeps up your cheeks as he continues. “I’m afraid Nature’s balance can never be restored in a city like this, but seeing what you do every day without expecting anything in return gives me hope. And for that I thank you.” You smile up at him, lost for words with your heart beating fast.
“I appreciate you saying this. I wish I could to more, to help everyone, but if I can at least do a little good, it’s worth the exhaustion at the end of the day”, you eventually admit with a smile. Halsin grins. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are.” Your cheeks blush an even deeper red at those words and only when you retire to bed for the evening does your heart resume its normal pace again. But the warm feeling Halsin’s presence gave you remained for the night.
After you had the first proper breakfast since your crash with the Nautiloid, you feel ready to explore the city and find out how to best deal with all your problems. You hadn’t particularly missed the bustle and noise of your old home, but you can’t help feeling safer now that you were in familiar surroundings again.
Gale proposed to go to Sorcerous Sundries, both to find out more about the Elderbrain’s crown and to see what the wizard there wants with your companion Nightsong. Since you don’t have an idea where to find Orin yet, you figure that this is as good as any other thing you could be doing.
The way from Elfsong to the magic shop isn’t far and you still have some time before it opens, so you decide to stop by the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette to update yourself on any news you had missed in your absence and struggle with the Absolute.
Scanning the title page, you notice the date in the corner and your brows shoot up in surprise. Noticing this, Gale asks if you found anything important in the newspaper.
“No, it’s just that I realised today is my birthday and I've completely forgotten about it. That means we have been on the road for more than two months already”, you wonder aloud before you add, “It doesn’t feel that long.”
“Well, then we have to celebrate of course!” Gale exclaims happily. You smile at his enthusiasm but shake your head. “We have bigger problems for now. Let’s see what this Lorroakan wants with Dame Aylin and then get on with our business. Besides,” you shrug, “we didn’t celebrate birthdays in my monastery anyways so I won’t miss anything.”
“If you say so,” Gale replies and you turn your attention back towards the page you were studying before.
You had already forgotten about the conversation as you come into your chamber in the Elfsong, grateful for the few minutes alone during the bath you had taken and the respite for your tired body.
But the moment you enter the room, Karlach and Shadowheart drag you to a set dinner table, laden with the most delicious food you could imagine. There aren’t your ordinary fish heads and the mouldy bread you usually have to call supper, instead delicious smelling pork roasts, pies, glazed carrots and potatoes, deep red apples and more pile atop the table, all lovingly placed around a huge flower bouquet in the middle of it.
You are so overwhelmed by the amount of work your friends must’ve put into this, that you can only stutter a ‘thank you’ before Karlach announces, “Happy birthday soldier! Halsin, Gale and Shadowheart here told us that today is your birthday and you never had a proper party before, so we decided to prepare you a little something!” With a grin she gestures from the table to one of the unoccupied beds, where a few packages are placed.
“You brought me presents too? You really didn’t have to!” you exclaim in surprise. You are so touched that your friends -among all the trouble- still found time to prepare the presents and this party for you that you feel tears well up in your eyes.
“Darling, no need to cry,” Astarion laughs as he pushes you onto your designated chair. “This is a party and not a funeral! Go ahead and enjoy yourself, it’s your special day after all!”
With a sniff and a small chuckle at Astarion’s words you sit down properly. He is right, of course, and you all clearly enjoy having a small break from the worries you faced at the moment.
Smiling hesitantly, you grab some meat and vegetables and start to eat - it really is delicious. You revel in the laughter and conversations with your friends, your weariness from todays fight forgotten for the moment.
When all of you can’t possibly eat any more, Karlach drags you over to the bed with the presents. You can tell she is excited to see if you like the few things your companions managed to get you in the time they had for preparing, so you start unpacking.
The first present contains a book on the monastery you were raised in, with a handwritten note from Gale:
“I’m sure you already know most information this book has to offer, but I thought it might still bring you comfort and remind you of home.” You thank him with a tight hug and carefully place the book into your bag.
The next package is a bottle of the finest liquor of the Elfsong Tavern, plus a sparkler for every one of your companions which Karlach sets of immediately.
Laughing at her shenanigans, you reach for the last and biggest present. It is wrapped in red paper and decorated with a little white bow. You wonder where your companions had managed to find all those things while you carefully pull the paper open. Soon a dress falls out of the packaging and you gaze at it in awe. Your fingers trace the deep forest green fabric, intricate silver and gold patterns weaved into it.
“This is beautiful, thank you, truly!” you say earnestly. You still can’t quite believe that all this should be for you. “I thought you would like it”, smiles Shadowheart. “And I’m certain it will suit you beautifully. Go now - try it on!” she urges you.
You walk to the bathroom which still smells of the quince-scented soap you had used for your bath a few hours before. While changing, you bask in that warm feeling in your chest these moments among your friends always grant you. Whatever problems you had encountered, in your opinion they have all been worth it just for the people you found and let into your heart along the way. As cheesy as that sounds.
You regard yourself in the mirror. The dress is cut low and close-fitting, capturing your cleavage in a very flattering way. Maybe too flattering, if you think about it too much. This isn’t something you’d usually wear, but you have to admit that you like the way the dress looks on you. A bit insecure you go back into your room, where you are greeted with approving cheers and whistles from your friends.
“You look absolutely stunning”, Shadowheart admires. “I knew it would look good on you! Turn around please”, she commands. You do what you are told, with red cheeks at the compliment.
When you face Shadowheart again, you notice Halsin gazing at you with pure admiration - and something else you can’t quite place. You think you notice a golden shimmer in his eyes, but that could be a trick of the light considering all the candles in the room.
“I must admit, your neck looks very tempting in that dress but I know someone who is a lot hungrier for you than me right now”, Astarion remarks with a wicked grin and a sideward glance. You frown at him, though you can’t help your heart skipping a beat at these words. Could he possibly mean Halsin?
“Now, what would a party be without some music and dance?” Wyll interrupts your thoughts and as if these words have summoned her, the bard the party had met in the druid grove appears in the doorway.
“Alfira!” you exclaim happily and immediately rush over to hug her. “I’m so glad you got to Baldur’s Gate alright!”
Alfira grins at you. “Yes, thanks to you and your friends here. When they reached out to me today and told me it was your birthday, I just had to come! Wyll organised everything.” You nod to him in thanks. “Now, I don’t have anything to give you but just tell me what you want to hear and I will play it for you!”
“Thanks, Alfira, that’s more than enough for me”, you beam and lead her into the room towards your group. “Wyll, now is your chance to show me your dancing!” You say as you take his hand and pull him into the middle of the room, then you grab Karlach and Gale and start to move to the tune Alfira started to play. Karlach swirls you around and Wyll shows you the dance moves from court, which -to be honest- remind you a bit of the mating dances you had seen with a few bird species.
Out of breath from all the dancing and laughing, you request a slower tune from the tiefling bard. You manage to persuade Shadowheart to put away her wine for a moment and start to waltz around the room with her. She is quite the good dancer and you wonder where she had learned it, with her being raised in a Sharran temple and everything.
At the next tune, you approach Halsin. With your head light from the wine, you have finally gathered the courage to ask him for what you have secretly thought about the whole time.
Still, you can feel your heart beating in your throat. “Erm…Halsin, w-would you honour me with a dance?” you eventually manage to mumble out shyly.
“Of course, little flower. Whatever your heart desires.” That particular heart skips a beat at his intimate tone. “Although you might wish you hadn’t asked me that once you’ve seen my dancing”, he adds with a chuckle as he takes your hand.
He leads you into the room and starts to swirl you around to the melody of Alfira’s lute. He definitely isn’t as graceful as Shadowheart but certainly not as bad as he has made it sound. But even if he’d had the dancing skills of a bugbear, you wouldn’t have noticed. His large and warm hand around your waist and the smile with which he regards you sends your pulse through the ceiling. His smell of pine and honey and fresh air intoxicates you and it is hard to keep your feet from getting tangled in your dress.
When he leans down to you, you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. “Before you go and mingle again, I still have a present for you. I wasn’t sure if you would even like it”, he admits, “but I have decided to give it to you anyways.” When the tune ends, he leads you to the space in your room where his bed stands and bends down to search his pack.
You think about how long it took you to realise how attracted you are to the druid as you admire his strong back before you. Of course, you have noticed his kindness and compassion and you have always marvelled at the way he drew strength from nature. But only since you had some kind of break these last days have you begun to understand the depth of your affection for the man before you. It runs deeper than mere friendship and the echo of his hands on your back have awoken a hunger inside you that only grows stronger the more you look at Halsin. How desperately you hope that he feels the same way about you…
When he stands up to turn around, you quickly brush away the thought that has sent the heat into your cheeks again.
“You’re the only one who knows of my secret passion”, he begins jokingly, “so I thought you might accept this as my present for your special day.” He hands you a small whittled duck he has apparently made in the hours you were away from camp. You can’t help but tear up at the thought of how much effort he has put into all the details he has carved. There are even small webbed feet on the underside of the little duck.
“Thank you Halsin, this is an amazing gift!” You smile down at the little duck. “You are amazing”, you add quietly.
“With all that you have done for me, I should be the one thanking you night and day.” As you look into his eyes again you see that his gaze is now very solemn. “There was another reason for wanting to speak to you privately. I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now.” Your heart flutters in recognition of his words, the confession sending sparks across your skin.
“I want more than to fight at your side, or to sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine.” Halsin’s gaze on you is intense, filling your chest with a burning heat that slowly spreads lower into your belly, as if the wine you have been drinking suddenly caught on fire inside of you.
Halsin continues, “I think you feel the same way - but tell me I’m wrong and the matter can rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”
You stare at him for a moment before you realise that he waits for your answer.
“Y-you’re not wrong, far from it”, you whisper. “I would like that very much.” You smile up at him and he takes your hand in his.
“May I kiss you?” he breathes out, relieved. You nod and he bends down to gently press his lips on yours.
His hand slides up your arm and to your back while he places his other behind your head, gently pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.
You feel his tongue prodding at your lips, demanding entrance and you happily oblige. The feeling of his soft lips on yours sends you spiralling and you can’t stifle the small moan that escapes you. Halsin sends out a silent prayer to Silvanus - if that is all it takes to make you moan, what sounds do you make when he finally gets to taste you? Groaning, his hand on your back slowly wanders lower, a silent question of permission in his eyes. You press your body against his as an answer, feeling the heat radiating off his chest … and lower.
Halsins hand grips your ass firmly, making you gasp, the other joining in and hoisting you up on his hips, turning you both around and pressing your back to the wall. You cannot stop the surprised squeak that escapes your lips at the sudden movement and Halsin presses his mouth on yours to stifle it.
The feeling of the growing bulge in his pants between your legs and the low moan Halsin utters before kissing you even more vigorously sends a shiver down your spine, pressure starting to build between your thighs.
In a desperate attempt to pull him closer, your hands grip Halsin’s hair, arms, everything you can reach. But before you can lose yourself in him, Halsin releases your lips, panting, and rests his forehead against yours.
“I would very much like to continue”, he whispers, his breathing ragged and voice hoarse with desire, “but the others will expect us back and I think you would probably like a bit more privacy.” He sighs and softly kisses your hair. “I will come to your bed when the party has ended, little flower. But don’t expect much sleep”, he adds with a wicked grin. You can only nod as he gently props you back on your feet.
With your head spinning, you get back to the others, averting your eyes from the knowing smirks of Astarion and Shadowheart noticing your ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. You ignore them, trying to engage in some more conversation and one or two dances while the thought of what awaits you won’t leave your head.
When the last of the party finally bids you goodnight, you hurry to bed, awaiting Halsin. You can’t get away from the echoes of his hands on your body, heart already racing again and warmth blooming in your belly. Even if he hadn’t promised you he’d come tonight, you would’ve been unable to sleep.
A soft rustle next to your ear startles you from your thoughts and as you turn your head, you could make out Halsin’s large figure in the dark, crouching beside your bed.
He cuts you off from what you wanted to say by placing a finger on your mouth, his other hand sliding under your back and pulling you into an upright position. With your heart beating into your throat, you take the hand Halsin offers as he gently beckons you to follow him into the corridor outside of the room the party shares, then further into a small but cosy bedroom on the next floor.
The door closes with a click and before you can say anything, Halsin sweeps you up into his arms, pressing you flat against the door and capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like it burns you from the inside.
Halsin’s fresh, earthy scent floods your senses as your tongues intertwine and your hands find their way into his hair, tugging at his braids. You whine when Halsin lets go of your lips, only to gasp as he starts nibbling and placing searing kisses on your jaw while his hands squeeze your ass firmly, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.
You moan at the growing ache between your thighs but plant your small fists against his shoulders anyway, gently pushing him away a bit. Halsin’s eyes, pupils wide and dark with desire, find yours.
“What is it my heart?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Do you want me to stop?” You see no disappointment in his gaze, only worry and your heart swells at how selfless your lover is. You avert your eyes, suddenly embarrassed to tell what troubles you.
“I- I j-just wanted t-to say that … um … well, I- I have never been with someone before”, you mumble eventually, averting your gaze as you blush furiously.
“Silvanus, preserve me”, Halsin groans out before almost dropping you and stumbling backwards, trying to steady himself on the small desk opposite the bed. With wide eyes you regard what is happening before you. Halsin drops to his knees, a deep animalistic growl coming from his lips as his eyes fill with golden light and he transforms into his huge bear form.
You gasp and nearly trip over your feet in an attempt to make room for the bear before you, but the animal fills almost the entire chamber. After finally regaining his composure, Halsin manages to change back into his elf form, with a snarl and a ragged breath coming from his lips.
“Forgive me. I- lost the run of myself.” He shakes his head in disgust at his outbreak, terrified that he has ruined this precious moment with you before it could properly begin, and slowly gets back to his feet. “Sometimes, when blood runs hot enough, it’s difficult to tame the beast. And the thought of you trusting me enough to share your first time with me … well, you saw what happened”, he smiles tentatively, slowly approaching you again with hesitation in his eyes.
“Don’t apologise”, you assure him with a shy smile. “I like it.” If possible, you blush even harder now. “Maybe for another time…?” you add, fidgeting nervously with the front of your dress.
A relieved grin spreads over Halsin’s face. “You like it..?”, he chuckles. “You are full of surprises, little flower.” As he steps forward, he bends down to gently plant a kiss on your cheek, only to proceed to bite at your earlobe which elicits a delicious moan from you.
“I’m glad you think so, but now you’ve made it even harder for me not to outright devour you”, his low voice whispers in your ear. “Nevertheless, I will be gentle. Or at least I’ll try to be.” You swallow hard, arousal sending shivers down your spine.
Halsin’s arms wrap around your waist again as he kisses your jaw, your forehead and nose, until eventually his lips find yours again, his tongue ravaging you like a man starving. His hands, this time directly shoving under your dress, firmly grip your thighs. He ruts against you, growling, his now rock-hard cock pressing against the confinements of his clothing.
His fingers trail higher up, kneading your ass, then stroking the soft skin of your back before slowly wandering even higher. His touch sends jolts through your body and you can feel the heat between your legs, already nearly too much to bear.
His eyes hold an unspoken question and when you nod, Halsin lifts your dress off and brings his mouth down on one of your breasts, the hand that’s not on your back now gently kneading the other, massaging the hardened nipple between his fingers. You mewl at the sensation, impossibly more pressure building between your thighs. Halsin gently bites down at your breast, only to run his tongue over it afterwards to soothe the mark he made. You moan and arch your back, desperately trying to press closer against Halsin’s still overly clothed erection, wanting to feel everything of him.
He growls and his mouth begins to place kisses down your front, between your breasts, on the soft flesh of your belly until he is on his knees before you, his warm breath fanning over you and flooding you with heat.
“More?” he asks, his pupils blown wide with lust, as his thumbs brush the soft skin between your legs. “Please”, you whine, knees almost too weak to stand and your underwear already embarrassingly soaked.
Halsin wastes no time, pressing kisses on the insides of your thighs, his one hand holding you in place and his other slowly -too slowly- sliding your panties down your legs. The sight of you bare and dripping with need before him almost makes him lose control again, makes him want to take you, devour you, fuck you, mark you and then fill you to the brim with his cum but with a groan he wills himself to calm down and be gentle with you. He won’t hurt you. He won’t.
He exhales deeply, lifting one of your legs up and slowly swiping his tongue through your wet folds, which earns him a choked gasp. His nose nudges your clit as his tongue starts stroking, slowly at first, then faster and with more pressure. You can’t help the way each expert swipe of his tongue makes your hips buck into his mouth as countless moans and sighs fall out of your mouth. Halsin growls in response, the vibrations around your sensitive bud making your legs shake. You can barely keep up and the coil in your belly is tightening ever faster with Halsin’s mouth sucking your clit and his tongue inside you.
“You are sweeter than honey, my heart”, he groans as his tongue presses flat against you. “Let me taste you as you come undone on my tongue.” With your mind clouded with lust, all you can do is moan out Halsin’s name and press yourself further against your lover’s mouth.
With a wicked grin, Halsin inserts a second finger into your quivering hole, pushing inside over and over again, holding you firmly in place as you try to writhe away from the intense pleasure. His fingers coil upwards in response, hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars.
He understands anyway, now slowly dragging a thick finger through your dripping folds until he stops, teasingly pressing against your entrance. You whine, begging him to fill you, to do anything to release the overwhelming pressure between your thighs. When he finally thrusts into you, you can’t stifle the cry of pleasure that escapes your mouth. With Halsin’s finger now working your cunt open, his mouth continues its ministrations, licking and sucking your clit, soaking your legs with your slick.
“Please Halsin…”, you beg, toes curling and legs shaking, “I’m close- I- Oh!“
Moaning into your cunt, Halsin picks up his pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you as his tongue swipes over your clit again and again, bringing you closer to your end.
One more thrust with his fingers and a soft nip of his teeth against the sensitive bud between your legs is all it needs to send you spiralling over the edge. “Ha- Halsin!” you cry out, hips jerking violently and fingers digging into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you with the force of a lightning bolt. He moans at the sensations of your walls contracting around his fingers, the urge to take you and feel you squeeze his cock with your needy cunt almost overwhelming him.
You whine when he pulls his fingers out and stands up, bringing you in for a passionate kiss as you still struggle to regain your breath. Tasting yourself on Halsin’s tongue pulls a small moan from you and an embarrassed heat creeps up your back at the thought of how aroused you already are again.
With a smile, Halsin pulls away. “You are amazing, little flower”, he whispers breathlessly as he picks you up and gently places you on the bed, admiring your flushed body.
If Halsin’s tongue hadn’t just turned your mind to goo, you might have been able to return that compliment, but alas-
“May I go further?” Halsin asks and when you nod he swiftly discards of his clothes, you licking your lips at the sight of the elf naked before you. Your eyes take in his form, from his muscled arms down to the soft curve of his belly and- oh gods. Your eyes widen. You didn’t think he would be that big and the thought of him filling you makes you gulp down a mixture of fear and arousal.
Attentive as always, Halsin notices your insecurity and bends down to press gentle kisses against your ear. “We don’t have to do this, my heart…”, he whispers while he rubs soothing circles into your hips. He looks at you, his expression earnest. You bite your lip, thinking for a moment before answering. “N-no, I want this”, you assure him, your voice still weak but pleading now. The way you look so sweet with your little fangs on your lips makes Halsin feral and he kisses you again, desperate and more passionate this time. He groans into the kiss as he gently spreads your legs for him, lining up his tip with your dripping slit and sliding through your soft folds before stopping just at your entrance. The sensation of his hard length so close to entering you is enough to make your head fall back, eyes squeezed shut. “If it’s getting too much, tell me and I will stop immediately”, he whispers soothingly. “Now relax for me, little flower.”
All thoughts leave your head as Halsin slides in, agonizingly slow. The stretch would be painful if your lover hadn’t prepared you so thoroughly beforehand, but now you only feel pure bliss. Raising your head, you can see that he isn’t even halfway in but gods, you feel so full already that you can’t stifle the choked gasp that escapes your throat.
“You’re doing so well, my heart. Just a little bit more- mngh-!“ Halsin’s growl sends jolts through your spine as he finally bottoms out. You can see just how much effort it takes him to hold back by the way his jaw tenses and his chest is heaving.
“By Silvanus, you’re so tight-!“ A shiver crawls down his back, carrying a wave of soft golden light with it, as Halsin’s eyes light up with his magic for a moment. The thought of how you are able to bring your lover to the precipice of losing control is extremely flattering and you feel yourself clenching around Halsin’s cock, making him grunt in response. Finally somewhat accustoming to his size, you arch your back into the mattress below you. The new angle makes you moan in pleasure as you grip the sheets for support.
“Are you still feeling good, little flower?”, Halsin asks as he slides a hand from your hip under your back to support you. You can only form one thought. “More- please Halsin!” you whine desperately. You don’t have to ask twice, with a low growl he slides out - just to knock the breath out of you with his first, hard thrust. He sets a steady pace, one that leaves you moaning and gasping out his name. Halsin takes your small hands into his, pressing them into the bed beside you to pin you down, pushing into you deep and slow while he places bites and kisses on your throat and chest that will surely leave marks come morning.
Gods, Halsin thought. The sight of your small body sprawled beneath him, split apart by his thick cock while he fucks into you relentlessly is driving him insane. He is growling with every thrust now and each one of them makes you cry out in pleasure. It doesn’t take long until he has you on the precipice of release again, your cunt fluttering around Halsin’s length.
“H- halsin- please! I’m so close!” you can only beg, not sure if you can take much more, your body feeling like it might explode. “Come for me, my heart”, Halsin demands in a gravelly voice before pressing a thumb to your clit, rubbing and massaging until his name leaves your lips in a hoarse cry as your orgasm hits you with full force. Your hips jerk upwards, walls clenching around Halsin as you notice the tears from the overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. He continues to pound into you, prolonging your release and muttering praises for you under his breath.
Through the fog in your mind you wonder how Halsin still has the energy to keep going, his pace unwavering while you are completely spent, gladly accepting whatever your lover has to give you as long as you’re not required to move.
“I know it’s a lot right now but I need you to cum for me one more time, my heart”, Halsin huffs with a strained voice, pushing inside you once more and grabbing a fistful of your hair to keep you in place. The new position lets him slide even deeper than before and you can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you when Halsin starts pounding into you again, hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll back with blinding pleasure.
So, you do not see it coming when Halsin suddenly pulls out of you, the unexpected emptiness making you whine in displeasure, only for him to flip you over and press your chest into the soft bedding while he gently raises your hips.
“’s too much- please-!” you sob, your poor overstimulated clit still trying to recover from the last orgasm. But Halsin doesn’t relent and you can feel sharp pricks on your hips where his hand grips you, fingers partially wild-shaped into claws and his head thrown back in ecstasy. Seeing just how feral you drive him makes your hole clench around his shaft, the squeeze causing his hips to stutter as a grunt leaves his lips. “Silvanus preserve me”, Halsin pants as he fucks into you even faster, “if you keep squeezing me like that I will not be able to stop myself from claiming you completely, from making you mine and filling you up with my seed.”
You whimper at the image of Halsin pumping his cum into you, fucking it deep into your womb until he is sure that it has taken hold. You cannot pretend you haven’t thought about it before, the idea usually sending an embarrassed heat into your cheeks, but now - gods, now you needed it.
Completely breathless you moan, “Halsin I- ah-! please-! Fill me with your cubs!” These words were the last needed for Halsin to lose himself completely in you, driving himself into you with punishing strokes that cause you to arch yourself into him while moans and whispered curses fall from both your lips. The coil in your stomach is so tight again and when Halsin takes the hand from your hip to softly press on your lower belly you see stars. Your walls clench around Halsin’s cock and you feel him twitch inside you, a sign that he too is close to release. All it takes to send you over the edge is his finger pressed against your clit, your body shaking violently beneath him, toes curling, while waves of ecstasy course through you and you cry out his name.
With a last snap of his hips and a low moan, Halsin comes as well, twitching cock releasing hot spurts of cum inside your still fluttering walls. He continues to pump into you until the aftershocks of your shared orgasm have subsided, before he slowly pulls out. You collapse onto the mattress, exhaustion settling over your overstimulated body.
Halsin gets onto the bed with you, gently gathering you up in his arms and placing your head against his broad chest. “You’ve done so well for me, little flower”, he whispers into your ear, placing soft kisses on your face before he looks your body up and down. One of his hands comes up to stroke a strand of hair away from your damp forehead and to gently lift your chin in order to look you in the eyes. You note worry in his gaze, his brows furrowed in remorse when he plants a feather light kiss on your lips.
“I’ve hurt you”, he states. “I’m so sorry, my heart. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”
You smile up at him and cuddle deeper into his arms before you shake your head. “Don’t apologise. I loved every second of it. There is no birthday present in this world that can ever match this”, you confess with a shy grin. “Although I have to admit I’m a little sore. You sure did your best to make sure I’m unable to walk tomorrow.”
Halsin chuckles. “I can help with that”, he answers with a sly smile, his free hand sliding down your body to stroke through your soft folds, muttering an incantation under his breath. As the familiar glow of the healing spell engulfs his fingers, you feel a rush of warmth where he touches you. A moan escapes your lips before you could stop it, eliciting a mischievous smirk from your lover as you hide your face against his chest in embarrassment.
“I’d be happy to go again, my love, but I think you need some rest first. Besides, we still have an Elderbrain to kill, so we’ll need our strength tomorrow.” You nod at that, the tiredness in your bones leaving you unable to object, even if you had wanted to. But you know he is right, so when Halsin wraps a blanket around you to carry you to the bathroom, you just relax into his chest, the sound of his steady breathing soothing you.
When the bathtub is filled with warm water, you are already half asleep, barely registering that Halsin is gently cleaning you up, rinsing the sweat from your hair and body and rubbing salve over the bite marks and the bruises on your hips once you are dry again.
You can hear the soft snores and deep breathing from your companions when Halsin brings you back into the room you share, all of them already fast asleep. Absentmindedly you wonder how long you and Halsin have been away, but the thought is gone as soon as Halsin places you on your bed.
“Goodnight, my little flower. Sleep well.” He gives you a kiss and turns to leave. You manage to grab his hand before he does, stopping him in his tracks.
“Stay with me tonight?” you mumble sleepily. Halsin smiles, warmth and adoration filling his chest as he carefully climbs next to you, the bedframe creaking slightly with his additional weight, and wraps his arms around your smaller figure. The thought of how your companions might react in the morning seeing you two in one bed briefly crosses your mind, but Halsin’s steady breathing and the soft pulse of his heart against your back soon drown out anything else as you drift to sleep in his warm embrace.
#bg3#halsin#baldur's gate 3#bg3 halsin#baldurs gate 3#halsin silverbough#halsin bg3#halsin x reader#halsin x tav#halsin smut#halsin fluff#bg3 smut#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fic#bg3 fanfic
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girlll, I've been thinking what would be the reaction of jjk men when the reader tells them that they wanna sit on their faces
✩ WHEN YOU ASK TO SIT ON THEIR FACE — GOJO, TOJI, GETO, NANAMI.
summary: you ask to sit on their face, they react. that's all I got.
cw: smut, duh, so MDNI, afab!reader.
an: here you go anon, hope you enjoy... and I hope no-one STEALS THE NANAMI PART OF THIS FIC smh loool. but ive posted so major slay for me.
✩GOJO: “oh you wanna sit on my face huh?” gojo smirks, cockiness exuding him as he eyes your thig hs rubbing together as you squirm in your seat and shyly nod your head. his hand parts your legs slightly and his fingers gently brush against your wet slit, just enough to coat his fingers. he pops his fingers in mouth, tasting you with a smile, “you’re always too sweet to me,” he praises, “letting me taste you and lay under your sweet sweet pussy.” his wet finger, still covered with you, pushes into your mouth as you begin to taste yourself. “see how good you taste?” he asks with a smile as you nod, your mouth still wrapped around his finger, “then c’mon sit down, so i can get a full meal.”
✩ TOJI: “get up here then,” toji beckons you. you are already straddling him, your pussy resting atop of his stomach. you crawl your way up his body, your clit feeling the hardness of his abs as you pause, rubbing your cunt against his chest, already stimulated. toji watches in amusement, loving the way he can get you off with any part of his body. “you already making a mess for me?” he comments, feeling the trail of your juices pool on his chest. he grins at the way you slowly nod your head, “save it for my mouth,” he finishes dragging you up onto his face.
✩GETO: “i thought you’d never ask,” geto breathes out, excitedly. he’s been waiting for this, he loves to eat you out, the way you’d always push his face deep into your cunt, as his tongue drags against your slit, darting in and out of you. so the idea of him being sandwiched between his bed and your pussy feels like heaven, he couldn’t wait to be nestled in your thighs as you pull on his hair, moaning at all the pleasure that he’s giving to you. he pauses in anticipation as you hover over his face your thighs buckling as he gives your clit a quick peck. as you finally cushion his face, his head pressed between your thighs, you could feel his mouth turn into a wide smile as it covers your pussy.
✩NANAMI: “you don't have to be embarrassed,” nanami coos, chuckling at your flushed face as he loosens his tie and carries you over to his bed. he bites his lip at the sight of your glistening pussy, and he smirks thinking about when you cutely asked him if you could try sitting on his face, he jumped at the chance. he lays down, caressing your thigh, giving your clit a slight pinch to indicate that you can hop on him. he blissfully groans as you perch your on him, you could feel the vibrations across your pussy as you already start to spill down his chin before he even begins to work at your cunt.
AN: guys I posted wow can I actually get some form of medal or even a cookie for this since wowzers I have been really NOT fucking w what I’ve been writting lately however one day I shall write a good ol fic for you I promise but for now I hope you enjoyed this short short smutty piece of fiction
#stampedwithane★#jjk smut#jjk x reader#toji x reader#nanami x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#toji smut#geto smut#gojo smut#nanami smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#nanami kento x reader#geto suguru x reader#gojou satoru x reader
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Awkward Conversations Outfits
Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader || Alexia overhears a conversation and assumes the worst, leading to a confusing and awkward conversation.
she wrote something! i apologise for the lack of fics but i don't want to give you guys some half-assed writing that i'm not proud of, and i haven't written anything anywhere near my own standards lately (not that i've been able to finish anything) so i hope you enjoy this and that i can get back into the grove of writing and give yous some more fics x
"And then once I think I've figured it out, I second guess myself and think it's too ugly and that I'm going to be judged and then when I look around, there's just clothes everywhere and all I wanna do is out on my frumpiest sweats and cry into my pillow! I don't understand how you guys do it!" Alexia was stunned to hear you rant so freely about a subject she had never heard you utter a word about.
She walked through the door halting your conversation, "Hola, chicas!" She announced herself and watched you slump back into your chair while Ingrid and Frido shared a glance.
"Hola, Ale," You grumbled out, disheartened.
Ingrid struck up a new conversation between the four of you as the rest of the team began to trickle into the changing room. Alexia remained silent though, trying to come up with a reason as to why you wouldn't come to her about this sort of thing, why it had to be Ingrid and Frido you chose to confide in. While it would definitely be an awkward conversation, Alexia would be more than happy to have that sort of talk with you. After taking you in at a young age, you had both bonded so well your relationship resembled that of mother and daughter.
You noticed Alexia seemed to be a little distanced and quiet so you made a move to check in on her when the team started to head out to the pitch, "Hola, Ale," You greeted, wrapping your arms around her and pressing your cheek to hers.
Her arms came to hold yours but she moved her cheek away from yours to lay a quick peck to it, "Hola, bebé, everything ok?" She rested her cheek on yours once again, relishing in the closeness and comfort it provided.
Your brows furrowed slightly, "Of course, I actually came to check on you," You giggled.
Alexia sighed as she saw this as you deflecting. She pulled away from you wholey before holding your face between her palms, "Well thank you for thinking of me, I'm fine, thank you," She pecked her lips against your forehead, filling your soul with warmth, "You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything. No judgement, sí?" She was looking deep into your eyes for any sign of sadness or lies.
All she could find was confusion, "Sí, you sure you're feeling alright?" You jokingly placed the back of your hand on her forehead.
Alexia responded by shoving your head in the opposite way, "Enough now," The lightness in her tone assured you that she was only joking.
Training went on, as usual, you were paired with Keira for drills meaning that you never got the chance to speak directly to Alexia until you were heading out to her car. You spent the drive home with a furrow in your brow uncanny to the one that rested on Alexia’s face as the older woman remained quiet and seemed lost in thought.
Once you arrived home Alexia haphazardly threw the keys onto the kitchen counter before turning to you who stood awkwardly between her and your bedroom, “You can go shower, Cari, dinner should be ready in an hour,” The small, tight smile she wore forced you to reciprocate but filled your mind with anxiety and guilt that came from an unknown source.
After showering, unpacking and repacking your training bag you shuffled out to the living room stiffly to find Alexia resting on the couch, watching some trashy reality tv. Her head raised from its slumped position, “Hola, Princesa,” She tapped the seat next to her, signalling you to join her which you did instantly.
She wrapped her arms around you and ran her hands through your freshly washed hair, “Are you sure you are feeling alright?” She spoke softly but her tone was heavy with concern.
You shrugged your shoulders, admitting defeat, “I feel like you’re upset with me,” You mumbled into her chest, limbs tense and eyes trained on the tv.
You lowered your head as Alexia manoeuvred the two of you so you were facing one another, “Why would you think that?” She lifted your chin with her fingers.
“You just seem…off, and I can’t help but think that I had something to do with it because you seemed fine in training laughing with ‘Tana and stuff.” You unknowingly jutted out your bottom lip, reminding Alexia of your youth.
She shuffled apprehensively in her seat, “It’s just that I accidentally heard your conversation with Ingrid and Frido and felt a little upset you didn’t come to me about it,” She was shy to admit she had basically eavesdropped on your very private conversation.
“Oh,” Alexia was too busy looking everywhere but your eyes to notice the relief in your tone.
“So,” She shrugged now feeling awkward and uncomfortable, “Is there anything you want to ask me?”
“I guess just how you manage to feel sure of yourself and confident with whatever you’re wearing?” Alexia’s eyes bulged out of their sockets and her mind began to run 100 miles per minute.
She turned pink at the question, her reaction throwing you off significantly, “Wearing!? I didn’t think you- I thought-” She was stumbling over her words and by now you were in a state of total confusion. She managed to get herself together and forced out a string of advice, “Well, everyone looks different but everyone is beautiful and there is no one way to look and if you are truly scared your partner is going to judge you, you shouldn’t be with them, let alone trust them with your body,” She had you in the first half but your brain completely melted by the second.
You cut her off instantly, “Ale, what are you talking about? That whole conversation was about how I never know what to wear before games and going out to dinners, stuff like that. I was frustrated with how you, Ingrid, Frido and the whole team to be fair, always look so cool and confident. What are you thinking it was about?”
“¡Oh, gracias a Dios!” She looked to the ceiling as she fell against the back of the couch, “I thought it was a whole other conversation about something way more uncomfortable,” She laughed to herself.
“Oh, Ale! Gross!” You whacked her while joining in on her laughter.
She took a deep breath before continuing, “You just have to own what you’re wearing, you are gorgeous and will look good in anything! Trust me,” She emphasised when she saw you roll your eyes, “How about after dinner, we go look in your closet and pick out some outfits so this weekend you have options for before the game? Sí?”
You nodded with a smile on your face, “Gracias, Ale,” You moved over to her and she wrapped you in her arms, laying a kiss on your temple. You stilled for a moment before taking a deep breath, “I think dinner is burning,” You said calmly.
Alexia hummed before taking in what you said, “¿Qué?” She yelled and pulled away, running to the kitchen as you doubled over with laughter.
#woso community#woso#woso x reader#espwnt#woso imagine#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#sefutbol fem#ingrid engen#fridolina rolfö#woso fanfics#barca femeni#barca femini x reader
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Bad Girl
(modern Aemond x fem Reader)
Summary: Aemond gets a little (sexually) frustrated with his shy girlfriend.
Based on this post: "Hold her down by the throat and put her vibrator on the max setting. That'll fix her, I promise."
You can all thank @arcielee for inspiring me to write this! So it came out a little different than I initially planned but I hope it's still okay ;)
This was written quickly so I apologize for any mistakes, English is not my first language and all that. Enjoy!
Word count: +2800
Warning: 18+ for explicit content and language. Teasing, dirty talk, mild degradation/praise, masturbation (fem), soft dom Aemond, shy reader. Use of sex toy & orgasm denial. Choking, multiple orgasms and p in v sex.
***
All my fics are also on AO3
If you love my writing you can Buy me a KoFi or feed me with a lovely comment ;)
***
Aemond tried his best to focus on the words on the page in front of him. He wanted to finish this chapter but your hand on his thigh was starting to distract him.
You were both lying on your bed, him reading his book while you absentmindedly scrolled through Netflix while checking your phone. It had been over an hour now and you still hadn’t picked anything to watch.
You were distracted as well, Aemond had noticed it the moment he’d walked in but as usual you chose to stay quiet and not let him know what was on your mind.
But he knew you inside and out now, after 6 months of dating. You were a closed book and it took a lot of patience and the right kind of attention to get you to open up to him. Tonight was no different.
Looking at your blank facial expression one could never tell but the way your hand kept clinging to his leg, Aemond knew everything he needed to know. You were just as horny as he was right now.
“Do you want me to pick something?” he asked, not looking up from his book but his lips curling into a little amused smile.
“Oh, no, why?” you asked, waking up from your thoughts.
“Because clearly you are never going to,” he pointed out.
You sighed,”I’m sorry, I just…I don’t really feel like watching anything.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that?”
“I didn’t want to annoy you,” you sighed, turning off the tv.
It took only a few seconds for Aemond to snap his book shut and look up at you.
“What did I tell you just last night? You can never annoy me, sweet girl,” he placed his book on the nightstand and turned his attention to you,”Okay, here's what's going to happen…we’re going to set up a few ground rules, just between us.”
You looked at him with intrigued eyes.
“You need to tell me what goes on in that pretty little head of yours,” he spoke softly,”I can’t read your mind, love.”
“You might wanna be grateful for that,” you joked, putting a smile on his face but it disappeared quickly when his one good eye met yours.
“Rule number one,” he then stated,”You don’t put yourself down, ever.”
Your eyes softened at his request and you smiled while nodding your head,”I’ll work on that.”
“Oh, you will,” he confirmed and you were taken aback by the hard tone in his voice.
“Okay,” you nodded.
“Rule number two,” Aemond continued,”You need to talk to me, about what you feel, and what you want, whatever it is. I don’t want to have to guess it.”
You nodded but sighed quietly,”Aem, you know I…I have a hard time opening up.”
“Not with me,” he insisted,”I don’t want you to feel that way with me.”
His eye stayed locked on yours, his gaze intense, as if he was trying to stare deep into your soul.
”You know you never have to feel that way with me, right?”he then added softly.
You smiled, reassured,”I know.
“Good,” he nodded,”Then let’s try this, shall we? Tell me what you want right now.”
You couldn’t help but blush, your words already stuck in your throat.
“Come on, don’t be shy, sweetheart,” Aemond encouraged you,”Your hand’s been on my thigh the entire time, what is it? Do you want to cuddle?”
You knew he was teasing you but you still couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words.”No, I don’t want to cuddle,” you confessed instead.
“Then, what do you want?” Aemond covered your small hand with his much larger one, his thumb caressing your skin,”Don’t make me drag it out of you, sweet girl, you know I will.”
His threat was making your heart beat faster and your skin was burning up under his soft touch.
“I want…,”you bit your lip, willing yourself to just say the words but failing again. “I want you,” you eventually let out.
Aemond clicked his tongue in disappointment”You want me? Want me to what?”
“Aemond,” you whined.
He took his hand off you, making you want to whine some more but the serious look in his eye stopped you.
“I think it’s time to tell you about rule number three then,” he stated.
“Rule number three? What’s rule number three?”
“Girls who don’t comply with the first two rules will get punished.”
Your heart was definitely beating loudly in your chest now. “Aem,” you whispered, shaking your head with a shy smile.
Before you could even think of saying anything else he had you pinned down to the bed, straddling your legs and leaning over you, his face mere inches away from yours.
“Oh, you think I’m joking?” he asked.
“No, I…I don’t…”
He nuzzled your cheek, his breath warm against your skin while his long hair tickled your neck, putting goosebumps all over you.
“I won't ask again,” he whispered firmly,"Tell me what you want."
“I want you to fuck me,” you finally blurted out, putting a satisfied grin on his face as he leaned back to look at you.
“There’s my girl,” he smiled,”That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
You bit your lip. Aemond's hands were softly caressing your waist and you could feel the weight of him on you, his cock pressing against your inner thigh through his sweatpants. You couldn’t help yourself from trying to move against him but he was quick to grab your wrists and pin them down on the bed next to you.
“Nuh-uh,” he teased,”Keep still.”
“Aem,” you breathed,”Please.”
“No, no, that took you way too long, sweetheart,” he pointed out,”If I give you what you want right away how will you learn your lesson, hmm?”
His hands moved back to your waist, slowly pushing up your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin. A smirk played on his beautiful face when he discovered you weren’t wearing a bra.
“Look at you being all slutty for me,” he grinned, pushing your shirt up all the way and exposing your tits fully to him. You couldn’t hold back your moans when he started kissing your stomach. His mouth was so soft, his kisses featherlight, teasing, making you shiver all over.
When he finally worked his way up to your tits his tongue curled around your nipple, making you squirm underneath him. You kept your hands on the bed, digging into the sheets now. You were afraid if you touched him he'd stop what he was doing to you and you would break if he did.
“Aemond,” you breathed,”Please…please…baby.”
You could hear him laugh as he licked your other nipple,”Oh, no, you don’t get to be impatient now, sweetheart. You made me wait for over an hour while you kept browsing that stupid Netflix menu. Rubbing my thigh like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to me.”
He moved up higher to kiss your neck.”You’re going to do exactly as I say now. And maybe when you do, I’ll fuck you afterwards. Maybe. Do you understand?”
You nodded.
“Use your goddamn words, sweetheart,” he growled, grinding his erection against your panties.
“Fuck, yes, I understand,” you moaned.
“Good,” he grinned,”Good girl, you’re gonna be such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Say it.”
Your voice came out as nothing more than a pathetic whimper,”I’ll be…a good girl…for you.”
Aemond moaned loudly and pushed his cock up against your soaked panties, letting you feel every inch of him but then he pulled back, an evil smirk on his lips.
He leaned over to your side of the bed and opened your nightstand.
“What are you…?" your eyes widened when he pulled out one of your toys.
“Just the one I was looking for,” he grinned.
“Aemond,” you warned him but it only encouraged him.
“Show me,” he whispered, putting the toy in your hand and moving back a little to give you room,”Show me how you use it on yourself.”
“Are you serious?” you breathed.
“Dead serious,” he placed his hand on your thigh, tracing his fingers towards the edge of your panties,”You’re not getting my cock tonight, love, or my fingers, this is all you get. So get yourself off while I watch.”
You just stared at him in disbelief for a moment.
Aemond was licking his lips while he looked down at your panties and then he leaned in to place his lips on your ear,”I can see how wet you are from up here, my sweet girl, those panties are fucking soaked right through. You need to come really bad, don’t you? So fucking do it.”
You finally managed to shut off your brain and looked at the toy in your hand. Of course he had chosen one of your favorites, not an actual vibrator but your pink clit stimulator, the one that always got the job done.
But it was a little different with him watching you.
You slipped the toy in between your legs and into your panties and clicked it on, the sudden vibration enough to make you let out a quiet whimper.
Aemond didn’t take his eye off you, his one leg still wrapped over yours, now spreading you open, watching as you started bucking your hips against the vibrations. Your breathing was picking up quickly, your cheeks flushed and your other free hand was clutching the sheets, desperate to hold onto something.
Watching you like this was turning Aemond on beyond reason and he was dying for some sort of relief himself. But he held back, only focusing on you and your pleasure. He wanted to see you fall apart so badly, to see you finally letting go of that control and give in. But another part of him also wanted to snatch that toy from your hand right before you could succumb, letting you feel some of his frustration.
But he showed mercy on you, watching as your legs started to shake and your back arched off the bed when your orgasm rushed through you.
His mercy was short lived though and before you could ride it out the toy was pulled from your hand, making you look up at him with a disappointed whine.
“My turn,” he grinned.
He pulled your panties down in one swift motion and then the toy was on you again. You almost wanted to back away at the sudden sensation on your now sensitive clit but Aemond held you in your place.
“Look up at me, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. He waited until your eyes met his before he turned the toy down to the lowest setting. “You alright?” he checked.
You nodded,”Yeah, I’m alright.”
He cupped your cheek with one hand, thumb brushing your lips ever so briefly.”You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered,”Surrendering to me so easily. God, it's everything....you’re so perfect.”
You smiled and felt tears sting in your eyes, his sudden softness combined with the aftermath of your release making you feel emotional.“Can I touch you now?” you begged.
Aemond nodded instantly,”Of course you can, my sweet girl.”
He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips and your arms finally wrapped around him, caressing his neck and his hair and holding him close to you. Aemond reciprocated your hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment and breathing you in. But then he leaned back, that teasing smile back on his lips.
“Okay, where were we?” he asked and he laughed when you looked at him,”Oh, you didn’t think I was done, didn’t you?”
“Aem,” you shook your head,”Just fuck me.”
“Oh no, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, sweetheart,” he insisted and he turned your toy up a notch. He didn’t move it, just held it against your clit, teasing you with it.
“That feel good, baby?” he purred,"Oh, I bet it does, your poor little clit must be so sensitive right now, hmm?"
His lips moved down to softly kiss your neck. The combination of his warm, wet mouth on your skin and the vibration between your legs was quickly building up your need for another release.
This time Aemond showed no mercy, pulling the toy away as soon as you got too close, making you grip his arm in frustration at your lost climax.
“Fuck...please,” you whined.
“You’re so pretty when you beg,” he smiled, kissing the spot right below your ear,”Do it again. I want to hear you beg for it, use your words this time.”
He placed the toy back on your clit and back on the lowest setting, enough to tease you but not get you off.
His tongue traced patterns on your neck and collarbone and then he gently sucked your skin while upping the setting, higher and higher until he felt your legs starting to shake and he pulled away again, smirking against your neck as you cried in frustration.
He repeated the same process a couple of times, making you whimper and moan beneath him, tears running down your face now. Your hands were tangled into his hair and clawing at his back, underneath his shirt.
“Come on, sweetheart, tell me what I want to hear,” he breathed into your ear.
Aemond’s voice was rough and you could hear it in his breathing, he was turned on just as much as you were. When you looked down you could see him palming himself through his pants, desperate for some friction.
“Please let me come,” you begged, finally finding your words,”I need to come so bad, Aem, please, baby.”
“Yeah? You want it?” he teased, licking into your mouth. You pulled him into a deep kiss, grinding your hips against your toy, which was now completely soaked in your arousal.
Aemond turned up the settings, one by one, pushing you closer and closer to that edge, moving it over your clit so perfectly you could feel your orgasm so close within reach.
"Tell me you want my cock," he breathed into the kiss,"I need to hear you say it, sweetheart...fucking say it, please."
All reason had left your mind and you finally gave into your most primal needs, and words.
“I want your cock,” you whimpered,”Please, Aemond…I need your cock, please…I need it inside of me so bad, need to feel you.”
“Oh, you do?” he grunted, moving his own hips against the mattress in his own desperation but he was not going to give in yet,”I don’t know if you deserve my cock, sweetheart.”
“I do, I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Yeah? You’ll tell me what you want next time? Before I have to drag it out of you?”
“I will,” you whimpered,”I promise I will.”
“Well, we’ll have to see about that next time, won’t we? For now you’ll just have to take what I give you.”
He turned your toy up even higher, it was almost on the maximum setting and your legs were shaking in anticipation already.
“Fuck,” you moaned.
“Will you take what I give you and accept your punishment?” he breathed against your lips.
You nodded,”Yes, yes I will.”
“Good girl,” he smirked and he watched your reaction when he clicked the button and pushed your toy to it maximum,”Show me how desperate you are for me, sweetheart, ride your toy like you would ride my cock.”
He placed himself over you again, pinning you down on the bed, his cock rock hard and pressing into your inner thigh. As you bucked into your favorite toy Aemond started rutting against you, his breath heavy in your ear.
“Come on, my pretty little slut,” he growled into your ear while his hand made its way around your neck, gripping it tight,”Fall apart for me, I want to hear you…see you…feel you. Come for me, sweetheart...come for me, right fucking now.”
Your legs finally gave out and you came with a silent cry, clinging to his back and biting down on his shoulder. You didn't get any time to recover because Aemond pulled down his pants and in one desperate move sank his leaking cock deep into your pulsing heat. You climaxed again right away and it only took Aemond a couple of hard thrusts to follow suit, filling you up and collapsing on top of you with a quiet whimper.
You both lay in silence afterwards, letting your breathing calm down and enjoying the warmth of his body close to yours.
You couldn’t help but smile after a while. “I thought I wasn’t getting your cock tonight?” you then teased,"What happened with that?"
He looked up at you, blushing and biting his lip and then he gently nuzzled your neck, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder,”You make me weak, what can I say? Besides...I couldn't bear it any longer, I’ve wanted to fuck you as soon as you walked in tonight.”
“So did I,” you confessed.
Aemond gave you a surprised, warm smile,”Next time you tell me that right away so we don’t have to waste time pretending to find shit to watch on Netflix.”
You nodded,”I will, I promise.”
“Good,” he whispered,”I wouldn’t wanna have to punish you again for being such a bad girl.”
You hesitated for only a moment before you looked back at him and bit your lip,”What if I want to be your bad girl?”
You watched Aemond swallow hard, his hold on your waist tightening and his pupil growing darker.
“What if I liked being punished?” you added in a whisper, a smile forming on your lips at seeing Aemond squirm like that for once.
”Yeah?” he breathed,”You…you liked that?”
"Very much," you nodded and you giggled when he pushed you back down on the bed, his lips finding yours in a deep, desperate kiss. You could feel his cock pressing against your thigh, he was hard again.
His mouth moved to your ear, whispering heavily while his hand reached for your nightstand again,”Let's see what other toys you have in there, shall we, my beautiful bad girl?”
#aemond x reader#modern aemond#aemond smut#aemond x you#aemond fanfiction#ewan mitchell fanfic#aemond imagine#aemond x fem!reader
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shut up my moms calling- chris sturniolo x fem!reader
a/n i love naming my fics after songs bc then i listen to them on replay while i write.
summary- coming home from college means seeing the kid you’ve hated most your whole life. chris sturniolo. you’ve hated everything about his existence since the beginning of 6th grade when you transferred to somerville. the summer after your freshman year of college is when everything starts to change.
warnings- long(ish) smut ofc, mention of toxic relationship, choking, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl) overstimulation {i think that’s all!}
-
6th grade
i just moved from oklahoma to a small town outside of boston called somerville. it was my first day of 6th grade and i was everything but excited to go. i had a good amount of friends in oklahoma, and absolutely none in massachusetts. if it were up to me i would have stayed, but i had no choice because my mom got offered better work down here.
i walked into the crowded classroom with my schedule in hand. “is this mrs sawyers class?” i ask quietly. “yes it is, and you must be y/n?” she looks up at me through her glasses. “y-yes” i utter nervously. “nice to meet you, have a seat wherever” I walk to a more empty side of the classroom and take a seat.
“newww girlll” i voice calls out in a mocking tone when i sit down. when i look up i lock eyes with a boy with short brown hair. hes sat with his 2 triplet brothers and another one of their friends. “yeah?” i say quietly. he starts immediately attacking me with questions
“where are you from? why are you here? what school did you go to last? did you have friends” i’m overwhelmed as questions pour out of his mouth. “chris you’re freaking her out” his brother says. “i’m nick.” he smiles at me. “that’s chris, obviously, and that’s matt”
“hey nice to meet you” the third one says. “oh and that’s nate.” nick says. i nod my head looking at the 4 boys. “i’m y/n” i say. “y/n?” chris says under his breath almost inaudible. “excuse me?” i say turning my head to look at him. “what nothing.” he tries to play it off
“who decided on the name y/n, your mom or your dad?” chris asks with a disgusted but confused look on his face. “it was my mom’s best friend’s name before she passed.” i explained. “tough” he muttered. the whole rest of the class period was filled with his snarky remarks and questions.
over time, as i got closer to matt and nick, the snarky remarks from chris turned into full on arguments. anything i would say would lead to chris having something else to say. i could tell him my head hurts and he would say something along the lines of “maybe if you wouldn’t think so hard about what to say and just shut the fuck up for once that wound be a problem.” i would just roll my eyes and go back to talking to nick
-
this behavior lasted all the way through senior year of high school. i stayed close with nick and matt, which means i was stuck with chris. we got in several heated arguments over the years and they all led to me leaving the triplets house at 2 in the morning because i couldn’t physically be around chris.
our last big fight was the weekend before i left for college. nick wanted to host a small party of about 15 friends for me since i wouldn’t be seeing him again til the summer. we were setting up the decorations and chris was being extra annoying.
“chris can you actually help out and stop acting like a fucking toddler.” i snapped at him while he stood under me watching me hang up a banner. “maybe if you weren’t nagging at me every 30 seconds.” he complained. “i wouldn’t be nagging if you wouldn’t stand in my way instead of actually contributing to anything in this world” i yelled, stepping off the ladder as i finished hanging the banner.
“you act like i wanna do this party. i don’t give a fuck about you.” he spat “i might not even show up tonight because you’ve been a bitch all day long!” my heart dropped and i felt a lump form in my throat. bitch? me and chris never got along but he never called me a bitch
he knew how much i hated it because of a past relationship i had. during junior year, i was in a super toxic relationship with a kid from our school. i was so naive i had thought he had actually liked me but it turns out i was wrong. we would constantly argue and he would gaslight me into forgiving him.
i stared at chris blankly as tears formed in my eyes. “y/n i-“ “fuck you chris.” i cut him off “and yeah i think it’s best you don’t show up tonight.” i ran upstairs to the bathroom and wiped away my tears. i checked in the mirror and adjusted myself before going back down.
-
present day
i hung up the phone with nick and got in my car. i was on my way home from college for the summer, and i finally got to see my best friend. he’s so excited that he rented out a cabin by the lake for a whole week to celebrate. i haven’t seen any of the triplets since i left, i haven’t seen chris since before the party. chris. my stomach dropped and my heart started pounding when the realization hit that i would be seeing chris.
i didn’t want to see him at all. nick said he changed a lot, and maybe he did, but you can never be too sure. and he did change a lot physically. chris was much more attractive then he was in highschool, not that he’s ever been unattractive, other than his personality.
about a few hours later i called nick to tell him i was close to the cabin. i pulled in and nick darted outside. “omgggg it’s been forever” i squealed as i got out of my car. “you have to see the place!” he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the back of the house. “there’s a hot tub, a massive pool and all of this space.” he gawked at the house. we went inside as he gave me a tour of the house. “this is your room!” he announced pointing inside.
i looked around and it was absolutely beautiful. “thank you so much nick this is amazing” i hugged him. “don’t thank me too much” he said “i had to put you in the room across the hall from chris, i hope you don’t mind because i’ll work something out”
“no that’s totally fine, i’ll just pretend he isn’t even here” i smiled. he smiled back “okay i’ll be downstairs getting everything ready bc we’re gonna have movie night tonight just like high school.” he said as he left my room.
after i got settled in, i took a shower. i picked out my pajamas which was just a big t shirt and shorts and i headed down stairs happily. “there she is!” matt exclaimed, giving me a hug. “matt i missed you so much!” i said hugging him back
after i pulled away, i made eye contact with chris, who was glaring at me and matt. i shot him a calm smile and looked away. wow chris got really hot. you thought to yourself. no, chris is awful. but i couldn’t help but notice his fluffy hair and his defined jawline.
i noticed his sun kissed face, which made his freckles stand out. god i could only imagine what he looked like with my leg- no. remember what chris said to you. i snapped myself out of my thoughts and sat by nick on the the couch. he handed me a blanket and i cuddled up next to him and focused my eyes on the screen
my focus only lasted for about 30 seconds before my mind was back on chris. why hasn’t he spoke to me? because he hates me. duh. i wonder what he’s thinking right now. why am i so worried about chris? “you okay?” nick asks from beside me. “yeah i’m fine” i say in a convincing reassuring tone.
after the movie ends, i say goodnight and i head up to my room. i get situated in my bed, and i try to fall asleep but i can’t. my mind is flooded with thoughts of chris, and the next thing i know my hand is down my pants. what has happened to me?
this is chris sturniolo, the kid who’s bullied me for 7 years. i never imagined i would be getting off to the thought of him at 2 in the morning. i need to go to bed, but i physically can’t.
i get up out of bed and dig through my bags. i grab my pink swim suit and put it on. a get a towel from my bathroom and quietly head down stairs. i go out the back door and get in the hot tub. i zone out and try to find peace of mind.
i sit there with my eyes closed until i hear someone else getting in the water. i open my eyes, only to see chris. great. this is exactly what i need right now. “look y/n” his voice breaks me out of my thoughts. “i’m really sorry for the way i’ve treated you, you didn’t deserve any of it. but, we’re older now so i wanna put the past in the past”
“i forgive you” i say flatly. “really?” he seems genuinely shocked. “can i kiss you?” i asked immediately regretting what i said. “what?” is all he says before i grab my towel and run inside.
i lay on my bed for a split second before i hear a knock. i know it’s chris, but i still go to the door and answer it. i look up at him with a guilty look on my face. before i speak he’s slamming his face into mine.
he kisses me very passionately like he’s been waiting is whole life. he pushes me into my room and shuts the door behind us. he turns me and pushes me against is as he kisses me harder. one of his hands come up and squeeze my neck slightly
i moan into his mouth causing him to squeeze harder. i moan again growing super wet between my legs. one of my hands come up to tug on his hair, while the other one makes its way up his shirt.
with one hand still around my neck, he guides me over to my bed and lays me down flat as he climbs on top of me. “can i?” he asks, toying with the strap of my top. “pls chris” i whine. he unties my top and yanks it off, his mouth immediately meeting my nipple, his available hand massaging my other breast.
i throw my head back and moan as he does whatever he wants. next thing i know, his hand is coming off my throat, and down my body. he stops abt my bottoms before looking at me for confirmation. i nod desperately. his cold hands slip into my bottoms as his fingers meet my clit.
i’m a moaning mess at this point, begging for whatever contact i can get. “god you’re fucking soaked.” he says, his voice raspy and quiet. “fuck chris please touch me.” i beg “whatever you want princess” he says before putting his ring and middle finger inside of me. he quickly pumps in and out for a few seconds before i cut him of. “chris wait” i say
“are you okay did i do something wrong?” he questions. “no but i have an idea.” i tell him. i then instruct him to lay on his back and put his head on the pillow. i watch as he does what i say. once he’s situated i ask him “can i sit on your face?”
i laughed a little inside about how innocent it sounded. “of course princess” he says. i make my way closer to him as i put my legs on either side of his head. i slightly lower myself down, enough to make contact.
my legs shake as i try to hold myself up while he eats me. he lifts me up a little and says “don’t be shy baby, suffocate me.” he grips my waist harder as he pulls me down all the way onto his face. my back arches at the contact.
chris eats me like i was his last meal, i grip the headboard, and struggle to stay quiet while his nose rubs my clit. “chris i’m g-gonna cum” i whine. one of his hands come off my waist and grabs my ass, massaging it. my legs squeeze his head. and i moan uncontrollably as i release all over his face.
after i come down from my high, i get off and straddle his waist. i lean down and kiss him, tasting myself. i grind on his hard on while we kiss, making him grunt. i reach my hand down and palm his boxers as his body twitches.
i go for the band of his swim shorts and slowly pull them down, exposing his hard dick. i look him in the eyes, to get his consent “y/n please” is all i need to hear before i slowly stroke him. he moans and tosses his head back
after a few more strokes, i sit up and line myself up with him. i slowly lower myself onto him, wincing at his size as i feel him in me. once i’m fully sat, i sit still for a minute to adjust. once i’m ready i start bouncing up and down. he puts one hand on my waist to guide me, as the other one makes it way to mu sensitive clit.
“ughh chris don’t stop” i whine as i ride him. my words make him rub my clit even faster than before. my eyes are now practically stuck in the back of my head as i moan out for him. when i’m about to finish, i clench around him, making his mouth fall open. i come all over him, as he helps me through my high
“good job princess.” he grunts i keep riding him until i feel him twitch. “you feel so good pretty girl. i’m almost there.” i clench again, becoming slightly overstimulated. just then he releases, inside of me. after he comes down i slide off and plop on my bed.
“you okay princess?” he asks with concern “overstimulated” is all i can bring myself to mutter. chris picks me up and lays me in a more comfortable spot on the bed. he then heads to my bathroom and comes back with a towel. he helps clean me off before he finds the shorts and shirt i had on earlier.
he helps me put them on, then he puts his shorts on and goes to his room. i feel sad in that moment. how could he to all of that just to leave? just then he enters my room with pajama pants on. “don’t worry i’m not going anywhere.” he whispers as he crawls into bed with me.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••
a/n: kinda love this what do u think?
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#smut#nick sturniolo#sturniolo
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the long awaited spanking blurb
Content warnings: dom/sub dynamics, heavy spanking
I cannot get the brain rot for this out of my head. I was going to write a full fic for it first that includeded subspace but imma just do a spanking blurb for now to free myself from the thoughts… so basically stay tuned for this to be expanded
You did the thing that pisses off Carmy the most. You talked back to him during service in front of everyone. It was over something stupid, really, but your stubbornness got the best of you. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. The look on Carmen’s face was enough to shut you up for the rest of the night.
The car ride home is silent, dead silent. Carmy hasn’t said a word to you at all, and you don’t dare try and talk to him. You’re well aware you screwed up. You just aren’t sure what he’s going to do with you.
Carmy remains wordless as he parks the car in front of his apartment and heads to his door. You follow quickly behind him, watching as he digs in his pocket for his keys. Once he gets the door open, he walks straight to the couch to sit down, expecting you to close the door and lock up for him.
As soon as Carmy hears the lock click, he speaks in a firm, unwavering tone from where he sits on the couch. “Take off your clothes.”
His tone sends chills down your spine. He’s really fucking pissed. You walk towards him, standing right in front of the couch. “Carm, I’m—“ you begin to apologize, but Carmen doesn’t let you finish talking.
“I’m not going to repeat myself. Take them off. Now.”
“Y-yes, sir.” You remove your clothes as fast as you possibly can, not wanting to make him wait. You watch as Carmy sits up straight on the couch, slightly parting his knees.
“Bend over my lap,” he commands. Your legs move quickly as you bend over on his lap with your eyes facing the ground. His left hand hooks around your waist to steady you. His right hand rests right above your ass, lightly soothing the skin. “You were bad today. Talked back to me in front of everyone.”
“I’m sorry, Carmy. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fucking obvious you weren’t thinking. How can I expect those people to listen to me when my own girlfriend won’t do what I ask of her? You know better than that. I’ve taught you better.”
“It’ll never happen again. I promise.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure of that. You’re going to learn your lesson. I’m giving you fifteen spanks.”
“Fifteen?” you audibly gasp at the number. He has never punished you with so many spanks. The max before had always been less than ten.
“And you’re going to count every single one of them. If you mess up, I’ll add another one. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir. I understand.” Not even wasting a second, Carmy’s hand strikes your ass. He’s not starting off easy. “Shit! O-one.” The next two spanks come one after another, hitting at different spots. Your body jolts in his grasp from the impact of each hit. “Two. Three.”
Carmy doesn’t give you time to think in between the strikes of his hand. Each one comes down harder than the one before it. The only sounds in the room are your strangled whines and the sound of his hand against your ass. You manage to count pretty well at first, but it gets harder as the heat between your legs increases.
“Are you getting wet right now?” He says before spanking you once more.
“t-ten.” It’s all you can say. Stringing together a sentence seems impossible.
“Are you already so stupid you can’t count and answer my question?” Carmy’s hand grips your raw skin as he spreads your legs to see for himself. He scoffs when he sees the wetness pooling between your legs, starting to make a wet spot on his pants. “You’re fucking dripping. You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Even my hands spanking you turns you on.”
He hits your ass twice in quick succession in the exact same spot. You cry out from the impact. Your skin is throbbing. “Eleven— Carm, please.” You beg, not quite sure what you’re asking.
“That was twelve. I guess you can’t even count right anymore. Now, I’m going up to sixteen.”
You tremble in his lap, holding onto his legs with a death grip. At this point, he’s lightened up on the force behind his hand. Carmy also directs some of the strikes on your upper thigh to give your ass a break. It’s completely raw from the spankings, red and pulsing with heat. You’re barely holding on when he delivers the last strike.
“S-s-sixteen—“ you gasp. Tears run down your cheeks as Carmy rubs the skin of your upper back.
“You did good, baby. You took that so well. Such a good girl. You just needed a little punishment to remind you who you listen to, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I’m so s-sorry Carm. I didn’t mean to make you so mad,” you speak through sobs. “I-I shouldn’t have done that I’m so sorry—“
“Shhh—baby. Calm down. I’m not mad at you anymore. You made a mistake and got punished for it. It’s all okay now. You don’t have to apologize again. I know you didn’t mean to upset me. Let me help you sit up, yeah? Need to see your face.”
With Carmy’s help, you sit up in his lap to face him. His hands cup your face, wiping the tears away with this thumbs. You get emotional in times like this, especially when Carmy looks at you with such adoration like he is right now. “I love you, Carm.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Can I take care of you now? I wanna make it all feel better.”
“Please. P-please. Need it,” you beg, feeling the his hard cock underneath you.
“I’ve gotcha. I’ll take care of you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yeah im sorry for leaving this here but i gotta have room to expand on this idea later. Hehehe so expect a more full length one shot with all of this once again and more soon!!
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear#the bear fanfiction#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#the bear smut
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✧ 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 & 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 || hughes brothers ♔
album & song: 'more taylor' ; safe and sound (taylor's version)
summary: being sick calls for an immense amount of comfort frmo her brothers, so she’s upset when she gets sick again and they’re not there… well for long
pairings: hughes brothers x sister!reader
warnings: sick, throwing up, coughing up blood, blood, hospitals
published date: 12/17/23
notes: the second fic of the nhl x ts series! i couldn't help myself when i saw this so i had to write as fast as possible. i'm working on hey baby next, promise. also, i know this has the red album cover but because it's from the hunger games i just classified it as 'more taylor'. and as usual, anything hughes brothers i put my heart and soul into so i hope you guys enjoy this one. the grin is real. and if you're wondering, y/n got her nickname 'baby bear' because everyone always calls quinn 'huggy bear' and she's the baby and she's so much like quinn so 'baby bear' it was. add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!
more taylor masterlist | nhl x ts masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist
'I remember tears streaming down your face
When I said I'll never let you go
When all those shadows almost killed your light
I remember you said don't leave me here alone
But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight'
She was five when she got severely sick the first time and she was terrified. She woke up feeling warm and cold at the same time, her throat was scratchy and dry, and her eyes were watery but she didn’t know if it was because she was scared or if it was just a reaction, and her energy was slim to nonexistent which was scared Ellen and Jim.
By now, their sons would’ve scooped the youngest child out of her bedroom and made their way downstairs to watch something on TV or just play with her. Yet, it was dead silent in the house. Ellen got up from the bed and peeked into each of her son’s rooms and realized to find that they were just asleep still.
She hoped the same for her daughter but when she walked into the room and saw her five-year-old in tears sitting on her bed, she rushed over.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Mommy!” She let out a loud cry alarming Jim and he came rushing in as well, not noticing the eldest Hughes child in tow.
“Hey, sweetheart. I’m here, your brothers are still sleeping, let’s not wake them up. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel good.” She sniffled and quieted her voice.
Ellen picked her up and placed her daughter on her lap as she sat down, “Jim go get the-”
Before she even finished, y/n leaned over and threw up, trying not to get it on Ellen, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, hon. Jim go get the thermometer.”
Jim quickly walked out of the room, heading to the bathroom but got stopped as he ran into his son, “Quinn! Morning.”
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
“Your sister’s sick, it’s probably nothing.”
Quinn’s face went pale, “Is she okay? Does she have a fever? Is she throwing up?”
“Quinn! Calm down. I promise you, it’s probably just a little cold. You can go see her if you want, Mom is in there with her.”
Quinn walked into the room to see Ellen hugging y/n. He took one step and Ellen turned to him, “Hi, Quinn.”
“How is she?”
“It’s most likely just a cold. Y/n/n, look who’s here.” She directed her head to her son and pointed to him, “Quinny!”
She reached her arms out for him and Quinn gladly took her, placing her on his hip, “Hi baby bear.”
“I no feel good, Quinny.” Quinn nodded his head, “I know but we’re gonna make you feel better, okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Jim walked back into the room, placing the thermometer under the girl’s tongue. Seconds later it beeped and Jim took it out of her mount, “40.6/104”
The parents sigh and start to walk out, “Quinn if you don’t mind can you get her ready quickly, we’re gonna need to go to the hospital.”
Quinn nodded his head and he walked over to his sister’s closet, “Whatcha wanna wear, sweetheart?” Y/n lazily pointed to her brown bear sweatshirt and snuggled her head back into her brother’s chest. Quinn got her ready and sat her on her bed so he could put her shoes on.
“Quinny?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Are you going to leave me?”
“Of course, not y/n/n. I’m never going to let you go.”
Jack and Luke had both heard the rustling from outside their rooms and they both stepped out into the hallway, “What’s going on?”
Jack shrugged, “No clue, bro. I’m so tired.” The boy saw his sister’s door open and walked in there.
By now, Quinn was sitting on her bed and y/n was lying in his arms, “What’s going on?”
“She’s sick.” Jack and Luke immediately wake up at the news and rush over, spitting out questions left and right.
“She’s got a fever but that’s all I know right now. Mom and Dad are taking her to the hospital.”
“The hospital?!”
“I wanna go.” Luke protests just as their parents walk back into the room, fully dressed, “Oh, good morning you two.”
“Can we go with?”
“Guys, the three of you can’t come with.”
“Please, mommy.” Y/n’s little voice spoke up from her brother’s lap.
Ellen sighed, “Fine. But if you guys aren’t out there in five minutes, dressed, then we’re leaving without you.”
Ellen reached over and grabbed her daughter, the three of them heading out to the car to wait for their sons.
༶•┈┈⛧┈♛
In the hospital, Jim and Ellen were the only ones allowed to go back with her at least for now, and y/n let her voice be heard. She cried and cried until they relented and let one of them go back with the two. She reached for Quinn immediately and he nodded his head and followed behind his mom and sister, Jim staying with the other two.
When they got home, the boys sat at the kitchen table as Jim tried to give y/n her medicine, “I don’t want to.”
“I know you don’t want to, honey, but you have to. Don’t you want to feel better?”
“Jacky.”
Jack’s head popped up from where he sat and looked at her, “Yeah?”
Y/n pointed to her medicine and then to Jack and glared, “You want Jack to give you your medicine?”
She nodded with purpose and Jim happily gave the medicine to his middle son, “All yours, Jack.”
Jack didn’t complain, it meant that she trusted him and he loved that feeling. Jack poured the liquid into the small cup to the correct fill line and put it near his sister’s mouth. She took it without a hassle and from the corner of his eyes he could see his father throw his hands up in defeat causing everyone to chuckle.
✧༺✎༻∞
'Just close your eyes, the sun is going down
You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now
Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound'
Later that night, y/n lay in bed by herself, looking at the wall. Her stomach hurt and she let out a barely audible whine. Luke, who happened to be walking by heard it and peeked his head into the room, “You doing okay, baby bear?”
“No.”
Luke walked fully into the room and sat on his little sister’s bed, “What’s wrong?”
“Stomach. Will you stay with me?”
“Of course, I will.” Luke laid down next to her and she curled into him, “Thank you.”
Luke looked confused, “For what?”
“For making me feel safe. All three of you.”
Luke awed internally, trying not to let tears fall down his face, “No need to thank me for that.”
Five minutes passed and Jack and Quinn got down waiting for their brother, getting up to see where he was. When they saw him lying in y/n’s bed, they made their way over to them, “You guys okay?”
There was no answer as both of them had fallen asleep. Quinn told Jack to stay there as he walked out to grab some pillows and blankets and brought them back to him. The two made their makeshift beds on the ground and fell asleep not long after.
✧༺✎༻∞
'Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire
The war outside our door keeps raging on
Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone’
Just close your eyes, the sun is going down
You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now
Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound'
Ever since then, it was common that y/n had to go to the hospital. As the boys got older, they got more worried. They were busier, Quinn went to college and eventually, he and Jack made the NHL. Luke went off to college and this year he started his official rookie season with the Devils.
However, it wasn’t as often that it happened when they were away, and if it did it wasn’t as bad as having to go to the hospital, just more or less the doctor’s office. They weren’t as worried about her when this happened, getting texts from either there or their parents and calling them to make sure she was okay.
This time was different. Ellen and Jim had run out to grab a few things for dinner and they left y/n at home alone, because she was 16 and was capable of being by herself. Yet, in hindsight, they probably shouldn't have.
They had been gone for twenty minutes already and she thought they wouldn’t be much longer and she could hold on. But she couldn’t. Every couple of minutes it felt like she had a coughing attack, but this last one, blood came up with it.
Wasting no time she dialed the first person that came up on her contacts, Luke.
“Lukey.”
“Hey, y/n/n! What’s up?”
She was glad they didn’t have a game today, otherwise she’d be totally screwed.
“Lukey, I’m scared.”
“You’re scared? Why? What’s wrong?” Luke stood up from his bed and made his way out of his room and towards Jack’s.
He didn’t knock on the door before entering which left Jack to somewhat argue with him about knocking before entering, not that he was doing anything, but manners, you know?
“It’s so bad. Really bad.”
“Well, where’s mom and dad? How bad are we talking?” Jack’s interest peaked at the mention of his parents and scrambled to sit next to his younger brother on his bed, motioning for him to put it on speaker. Luke pressed the button and pulled his phone away from his ear, waiting for the girl to talk.
“They went out to grab-” She took a pause before coughing some more. Jack and Luke looked at each other worriedly, “Y/n?”
“Oh god. There’s more.”
“More what?” Jack inquired, nervousness settling at the bottom of his stomach, “More blood.”
The three were silent, y/n trying not to freak out and Jack and Luke trying not to freak her out. It was quiet for a couple of minutes before the oldest of the three-spoke up, “When are Mom and Dad going to be home?”
As soon as she went to say her answer the front door clicked and y/n rushed downstairs, “Dad! Mom!”
She threw her phone on the counter and Luke turned the volume all the way up in an effort to hear the conversation, “What? What’s wrong?”
“I threw up some blood.”
“Oh my. Get in the car, I’ll meet you two there.” Jim rushed y/n to the car and Ellen ran around the house gathering a few things in case they were there for a while.
Jack and Luke were freaking out, “Dad, what’s going on? Mom? Y/n?” Ellen spied her daughter’s phone on the counter and looked at it curiously seeing her son’s contact name on it, “Luke?”
“Mom, what is happening?”
“We’re taking her to the hospital. How long ago did she call you?”
“I don’t know like five minutes ago maybe?” Luke’s voice broke as he explained to his mom, Jack placing a hand on his back.
“I want you to call, Quinn-”
“No!” Y/n interrupted her mom as she got into the passenger seat, “What do you mean no?”
“He has a game, please.”
“Honey, I think you are more important to him than the game. Let Luke and Jack call him.” Ellen’s voice was stern as Jim pulled out of the driveway.
“If you’re gonna call him let me talk to him.”
Ellen, and the boys, went to protest but y/n’s face showed desperation, “Fine. We’ll call you two back when we have answers.”
“Don’t bother. We’re already packing.”
As Ellen and y/n were squabbling, Jack ushered his younger brother to his room and told him to go back and he left his phone in his room. Jack pulled his suitcase out of his closet and was halfway finished packing when they acknowledged the two again.
“There’s no need-”
“You’re not winning this y/n/n. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Jack hung up and finished packing meeting Luke and in ten minutes, they were on their way to the airport.
Meanwhile, y/n had dialed Quinn’s contact, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. It was an hour before the game was supposed to start and she had no idea if he would actually answer or not, but to her luck, he did.
“Quinn.”
“Hey, y/n/n. What's up? Need help with some homework?”
“I’m going to the hospital.”
Quinn dropped his stick as he stood in the locker room, some of his teammates glancing at him worriedly, “What is it?”
“Same old, same old, but this-” Her sentence was interrupted by another coughing attack and Quinn could hear their mother telling her to take it easy in the background.
“What do you mean it’s worse?” Quinn didn’t need her to finish the sentence for him to know what she meant.
Elias was standing next to him, a hand on his shoulder to ground him in case anything got out of hand, “I coughed up some blood.”
“You what?!” Quinn’s voice echoed through the clubhouse, “Quinn what’s wrong?”
The boy shushed his teammates, “Quinn, I’m probably fine-”
“If you’re coughing up blood you are not fine. Do Mom and Dad know? Do Jack and Luke?”
“Yes, Mom and Dad know, you idiot. Who do you think is taking me to the hospital? And yes the other two know, I already called them. I didn’t want to call you because you have a game.”
“I couldn’t care less about the game when my little sister calls and tells me she’s on the way to the hospital. Let me talk to coach, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Quinn, no-”
“Nope, la la la la. Blah blah blah. I’m coming. Give the phone to mom.”
“But-”
“No.”
Y/n reluctantly handed the phone to her mom but as she extended her hand, her arm dropped and the phone clattered to the ground. The only thing Quinn could hear was the faint yelling of his sister’s name from his mom.
༶•┈┈⛧┈♛
Y/n was lying in the hospital bed when Jack and Luke, watched the only show that was on this late at night, Family Feud. She was trying to answer but every time she went to speak she’d start coughing. The two ran in just as y/n’s previous coughing attack had subsided and she was now glaring at the TV because someone said a stupid answer.
“I said sex first, asshole. But no one wanted to listen to me.”
“Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“Jacky! Lu!” Y/n had a dopey smile on her face as she saw her brothers. They couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or if she was just being herself.
“Hey, baby bear. How you feeling?”
“Mom, can I swear?”
Jack laughed, “Aren’t you the one who just called someone an asshole?”
“Mom! Jack’s being mean.”
“Jack stop torturing your sister and yes, y/n, you can swear.”
“I feel like shit.” Luke nodded, the only one who seemed to have sympathy for the girl right now, “What did the doctor say?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening.”
Ellen and Jim explained how it wasn’t a big thing and that she should be able to go home in a couple of hours or so. The two stayed with her until she was discharged and drove home with the three where Luke carried her upstairs to her room because she fell asleep on the way home.
That’s where Quinn found them when he got there, Jack and Luke on either side of her in her bed as they watched the Game Show Network. One of the many stuffed animals that Quinn had gotten her wrapped in her arms against her chest.
“Hey guys.”
“Quinn! You’re here.”
“Of course, I’m here. I couldn’t let those two take care of you.”
Jack and Luke feigned offense at the eldest child but Jack moved over so Quinn could sit where he previously was, knowing y/n always chose to be close to him when she was sick.
“You doing okay?”
“Could be better, but I’m happy you’re here.”
“I’m never letting you go, none of us are.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
It was something the three had already talked about, they had already talked to their coaches and were scratched from their next couple of games because their sister needed him.
Y/n spent the rest of the night surrounded by her brothers feeling safe and sound.
𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you
@hearts-4-luke | @pucks-goals-penalties | @sarawinson78 | @prettyinsatiable |
@pucks-goals-penalties | @elegieseulogise | @crazycat-ladys-blog
#sunny lune writes#sunnylunenhlxts#hockey#nhl#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes x sister!reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x sister!reader#quinn hughes x reader#luke hughes#luke hughes x sister!reader#luke hughes x reader#hughes brothers#hughes brothers x reader#hughes brothers x sister!reader#hughes!sister#hughes!reader#sister!reader#taylor swift#safe and sound#hunger games#Spotify
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Hello!
Can you do Jason todd x reader where he's crushing on the newest vigilante in Gotham?
Thank you
New in Town
Jason Todd x Reader || Fluff || Word Count: 1,185
Warnings: profanity (swearing), death mention, violence, low-key stalking but not really??
Wrote half of the fic. Was nearly finished. It didn’t save. 😩 the ONE time i decide to write outside of the notes app
I love the idea of Jason crushing on someone like a teenage boy because he never actually GOT that chance as a teenager so he never learned how to cope with those kind of feelings, so I sprinkled that in here.
I feel like this is poorly written forgive me 🙏
He hadn’t heard of you until six months ago. He hadn’t cared then, either. You kept to the other side of the city, you didn’t pose a threat, and he was already preoccupied with his own things to deal with. You weren’t that important to him.
Jason was walking across rooftops. Two weeks, roughly, since he had caught wind of the new name, aligned with the rest of the bats.
It was a night where the rain had let up for once. It wasn’t perfect, though. Never was. The clouds still too thick to see the bright moon and stars.
He was looking for an address, one that seemingly didn’t exist. He landed on another rooftop of a short apartment building. Jason could hear the sounds of two people fighting down in the alley below him.
He walked to the edge, looked down, and there you were. Dressed up in your vigilante gear, fighting some thug.
He crouched, watching. This was much more entertaining then his fake address.
The thug was much bigger than you, but you handled yourself well. The thug lurched forward. You planted a hard, flat, kick to his stomach. He stumbled back. You got in a good punch, a right hook. The thug went with it. He bashed his back off the corner of a dumpster before crumbling to the ground.
Jason nodded once in approval. You didn’t play.
You both saw it at the same time. The clouds parted for a moment behind Jason, the light of the moon shining down over Gotham for just a moment.
The shadow of the top of the apartment split the alleyway below in half, with Jason’s crouched form’s shadow landing right in front of the thug.
He stood up and stepped back from the edge just as you started to look up. He was out of sight before you could see him. At most, you saw the glint of his helmet, but nothing else.
He walked away. He didn’t want to deal with this.
Three weeks later, Jason’s standing on a catwalk in one of Gotham’s many abandoned warehouses. He’s high enough up, hidden within a shadow, that they couldn’t see him even if they had the brains to check up instead of around.
He’s holding his AR-15, pointed down below at the drug dealers he’s been following all week. His aim is steady, mind going over the motions of the possibilities.
“Psst.”
Jason whipped his head up. He aimed the rifle in front of him. There, on the other catwalk, ten feet away from him, was you.
You were leaning on the railing, smiling. Jason didn’t like how his first thought was the realization that this was the closest he had ever been to you.
“Want some help?” You whispered loudly, your smile pulling into a grin.
He looked back down, fixing his aim, “No.”
You leaned further over the railing, exposing nearly half your body to the drug dealers below if they so happened to look up. You whispered your name. Your vigilante name, that is. He didn’t respond.
“Rude,” he heard you mutter. You stayed silent for just a moment as he watched the dealers walk around their table, complaining about their business not showing up. The business that Jason had left dead in an alleyway an hour ago.
Silent treatment wasn’t going to work. You spoke up again, “Why didn’t you say hello? When you saw me in the alley?”
“Maybe I didn’t want to.” Except he had wanted to, just not like that. And not like this.
It was your turn to stay silent. Jason looked up without moving. With his helmet, you couldn’t tell if he was, or was watching the men below.
Standing up straight again, your head was turned away a little, obviously listening to somebody babble away in your ear.
He looked back down before you turned your head back, “Welp, should’ve accepted my offer. I gotta go.”
“Buh-bye,” Jason said dryly before you were walking off down the catwalk.
What can he say? He was intrigued after that. He’d watch you fight from hidden corners, never daring to step out. He waited for the right opportunity to talk to you again. He… did it for too long. A couple months too long.
It wasn’t stalking. That’s what he told himself. He hadn’t pushed to discover your identity, hadn’t learned your exact schedule. He just… kept looking for a chance to talk.
Jason hated it. Hated that he couldn’t come up with a way to approach you. Hated how he got tongue tied thinking about it. How his palms got damp. What could he say?
He ran into Dick one night. They sat on the edge of a building and talked. Which turned to bickering for a while, before it came into a “Who had the worst Bruce experience” argument.
He shut up the second you landed on the roof behind them, “I could hear you two from an entire street over.”
Dick clapped his hands together, a smile breaking out at the sight of you. Jason turned to watch. He walked over, happily calling your name. He got to you, pointing at Jason as he slipped an arm around your shoulders, “Tell this guy he’s wrong.”
You frowned, “I don’t even know this guy.”
Jason remembered he had taken off his helmet, left in only his domino mask. You couldn’t see the rest of his clothes from the fact he’s sitting facing away from you.
Speak! Dammit! He chided himself. He picked up his helmet from his side, bringing it around to show you. He watched your eyes widen in recognition.
“Ooooh,” you immediately nodded, “Yeah. You’re wrong.”
Jason found his words with an amused smirk, “You don’t even know what for.”
You shrug and Dick laughs, “That’s the spirit!”
Jason turned back around. He pretended like he was watching the city line, but he was really listening to yours and Dick’s conversation. He kept trying to look for ways in, ways to talk to you.
Now! Nope, Dick said something unrelated, too quickly. Now your conversation went in that direction. Here! Too late. He hesitated.
He stopped listening, pursing his lips in annoyance at his own stupid, boyish inability to talk to the attractive new vigilante.
“Oh… he said he didn’t want to talk to me. Probably annoyed by my presence.”
He tuned back in.
“How rude.”
“That’s what I said!”
Jason looked back over his shoulder. The two of you were standing there, arms crossed, looking at him.
“What?”
Dick seemed to remember something, “Have you two even been formally introduced?”
You grumbled something along the lines of, “Tried that.”
Jason shrugged, “I’ve seen them around,” he met your eyes, “You fight good.”
What kind of fucking compliment is that?
“So do you,” you smiled.
Jason’s eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion. You could see the movement through the domino mask, “You’ve never seen me fight.”
You grinned, pointing at him, “That’s what you think.”
Jason smirked a little. Oh, he liked you, alright.
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x gn!reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x m!reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd fic#red hood fic#red hood x m!reader#red hood x gn!reader#red hood x y/n#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood#jason todd x vigilante!reader#red hood x vigilante!reader#ask missy#cw death mention#cw swearing#cw profanity#missy writes
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mind writing for the Earthrealm men getting caught masturbating by the reader??👀
mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react to getting caught 🥩 👊🏾 by reader
warnings: suggestive; a lil steamy, i play too much (was sick and ovulating while writing this help me god), GERAS SPOTTED???
reverse roles here
Johnny Cage
Left the door open on purpose. WIDE OPEN. There he lied on his silk linens, blasting Marvin Gaye and going to town without taking his eyes off the door. Honestly wouldn't be surprised if he added a sexy ninja mime (i will never stop referencing past games) to act out him getting caught
When you "catch" him all you can do is facepalm, but it's outta love. Expect to have him let loose 50 cheesy pick up lines, dick in hand and all. Like he would still jerk it like he wasn't stuttering over his words once you took over
If you join the cheesy line fun, he may or may not cum on the spot. He loves when you're playful back. And tease him a lot. But like. Way more than he teases you. He can and will fall in love all over again (he will also bust quickly to this too. MULTIPLE times)
Raiden
This cutie pie. Snookums bbg. Blushing like a fool because you managed to overhear him utter your name multiple times in a hushed voice dripping with lust
I fully see him falling out of his bed and scrambling to pull his covers down with him just to cover his lower half. He gets even more nervous when he sees you not even attempting to leave, but instead having an inviting look on your face
Cue the comically loud gulp sound effect. His pretty brown eyes never left your figure, sitting on the hardwood floor with a painful erection between his thighs under a rather comfortable blanket. You'd have to ask if he wants help from your own lips, otherwise no sound would be in the room other than steady breathing and his heart thumping loud as hell (he says yes at the speed of light)
Smoke
Deer in headlights. One minute ago he was furiously zerkin it like there was no tomorrow, slutty sounds escaping his lips with no shame. Now he's like...oh...! You heard that..? Ahahah..
Would apologize so many times he ends up doing it in Czech. Please tell him it's okay😭In fact you'd only shut him up by telling him it was hot
Activates self indulgence beam I think...he'd be into it if you told him to finish what he started. Like sitting in a chair and watching him and he's not allowed to close his eyes- IM GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF (fic idea huehue)(if you write it before me, tag me.) But also albeit he stumbles over his words, he'd find some sort of way to ask for your help
Geras
WHAT!!! GERAS I KNOW WTF WHAT yeah he may be an immortal being but the man has his own needs. And is it even a question like...you're wondering how THAT fits in his hand like jesus christ you're going to kill someone sir (i got next)
It's nothing extravagant. He wasn't summoned by Liu Kang for a while, so he figured why not? He doesn't get much time to himself so let's crank one real quick 👀
Think of any scene from mk11 where he got "hurt" and was grunting, that's the sounds he was making and you could hear it through his door. But you thought he was hurt, so you came through the door just to be greeted by a SNAKE in his grip
Surprisingly calm...almost too calm...did he predict this? Who knows, all we know is you interrupted him and would definitely like your help. Does not shy away from this request too but that's how we like it 😈
Liu Kang
A similar incident with Geras. You overheard him while you wandered through his mansion trying to find and surprise him. So when you finally found his bedroom door and barged in, thinking he needed help, there he was dick in hand and completely unexpecting
He would try to remain calm but it would be clear as day that he was nervous. He'd quickly cover up with a pillow and give a small smile, asking if you needed anything like he wasn't shirtless and heart pumping at mach speeds
In his mind was like a static sound as he tried to focus on not getting hard again looking at you, feeling a little guilty as he couldn't help his instincts. I guess the God contract never said escaping from mortal desires! You offer to join the fun and he's like HUH...well, if you insist! (again he looks calm but is very, very excited, i promise)
Kung Lao
He had been schmeat beating after his long days of training so this isn't a new occurrence for him. But obviously, you've never walked in on him before. He was always able to get it done before he saw or met with you
Normally you rendezvous to Madam Bo's but you're like hm, why not bring him something to eat since you know he had a long day! Once you entered it didn't take you long to hear him calling your name from his room, so naturally you thought he knew you were here. But...it started to become like a chant. His voice breathy and deep (save me shaolin monk save me-) So when you check it out you find him with his head thrown back, hair messy and coated in sweat
The favoritism is leaking through the screen LMFAOOO He heard the door creak and yelped, asking why you were there so early out of breath you held the to-go bag in your hands with pure shock, immediately getting the idea to tease the shit out of him. He does it to you all the time, why not return the favor?! And he's like well?? Are you gonna help??? UH YA I WAS GETTING TO THAT😹😹
Scorpion
Kuai Liang rarely ever has the time to even talk to you, let alone talk to himself! So one of the few times he didn't think you were showing up to the temple but he had time to himself that he didn't think would last very long, he just needed to relieve his own stress real quick
Damn, he forgot he invited you to the temple since it was a slow day. You were appointed to his room by one of the recruits and sang his name, opening the door to the sound of squelching and panting
Your little song came to a stop at the same time of his gasp; eyes locked on yours. He wanted to smile, and drop everything to greet you like the situation wasn't what it was, but before he could even begin to hide himself you calmly close the door and watch his demeanor quickly switch to smug...it's gonna be a long day for the both of you😮💨
Sub-Zero
I'm using the same scenario from my first bi-han fic bc i said so, bite me!
He was avoiding you because he couldn't control himself around you any longer. The more he thought about you and how you pissed him off to great lengths before has him wanting to do terrible...terrible things (shoutout loki)(i've never seen loki) but he must suffice with pleasuring himself to the thought of you, the way your voice rang in his head, and how hot you looked patching up his injuries
When you caught him oh he was so sexually frustrated he couldn't think straight, panically pulling you into his room dick swinging and all. The scowl on his face didn't match the pink blush that was starting to form at how you looked at him. Why you were at his door is the least of his concerns, if you don't help him take care of this right now he might lose his mind 🥹
Kenshi Takahashi
He wasn't supposed to be last but I accidentally clicked on a tumblr notification and lost my notes on him so. LETS TRY THIS SHIT AGAIN.
When you caught him he was so so embarrassed. Don't let the calm and hot and sexy demeanor fool you, when it came to you it's like he's a clone; unrecognizable. He was stuttering and trying to justify whatever you just saw but then also asks why you showed up unannounced
You explain he said to come around this time a few days ago to spend some time together, and now he was mentally kicking himself bc how could he forget something so simple?! But hey, the fact that you weren't even budging, and even approaching him with a smile on your face told him all he needed to know. And who is he to say no to some help from a fine individual like you???
a/n: cranked this request out for y'all (fic might be posted today) this is a gift from me to you guys 😄 happy christmas and merry holidays to any and all cultures that do or don't celebrate during this time fr ❤️
#n3ptoonz#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat#bi han#kuai liang#smut#kung lao#tomas vrbada#tomas mk1#kenshi takahashi#liu kang mk1#raiden mk1#geras mk#mk x reader#johnny cage#johnny cage x reader#raiden x reader#tomas vrbada x reader#smoke x reader#bi han x reader#kuai liang scorpion#kuai liang x reader#liu kang x reader#geras x reader#kenshi takashi x reader
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