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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 2 months

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Life's A Beach - K.MG

🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 🌊What: Smut, some fluff I guess? Strangers to lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu!!! 🌊Wordcount: 7.3k 🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Probably excessive use of “baby”. Semi-public sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, big dick Mingyu, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms(f), messy Mingyu, choking, a single solitary spank, mentions of bruising.

Summary: You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- Happy birthday to my beanie @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I know I said this was to prepare for a Christmas gift but I lied hehe oops. Hope you like it, my love 💗

Thank you @okiedokrie for the very last minute beta! 💕

A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself. Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more and soon enough the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.

Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas despite liking neither of those things is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.

You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days at roughly the same time just to watch Mr Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds strolling topless up and down the sand and helping where he can.

It’s sweet, the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols.

You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up and up and-

“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right as you assumed.

“A crab,”

“Yes,”

“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and admittedly, rather grand, sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby.

“Every castle needs a King, don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke.

“Go find shells.” You deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab to return it to its home.

Thoroughly distracted from your fantasies of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.

With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest and go back to reading your book.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers and lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr Hunky Lifeguard himself.

“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips and smiling at you in that bright friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else.

You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sunkissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”

“Family day out?” He questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys by the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only then realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend.

“Not exactly,” You huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend.” You declare upon spotting said person and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting with another lifeguard, this one wearing the same red shorts though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on, and rummaging through the sand with your friend.

“Oh,” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention. You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand.

“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu,” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you. Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together.

But that would get you arrested and you really don’t want that. So you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return.

“Mm, pretty,” He hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees, feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be face height with his dick and within reaching distance.

“You must really like the beach.”

“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face, that’d be nice too.

“I said you must really like the beach, I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.”

“You noticed me?” You mutter in shock.

“Uhm-” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller. Embarrassed. Cute. “I-It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma-make sure people are safe.”

“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing, amused and endeared by him.

As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing, talking to him and realising he’s got this cute shy side definitely draws you in further.

“Y-yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips again. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand making you snicker.

Mingyu flails to right himself and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.

And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.

It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach, you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.

“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today.” Your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up.

“To bury me? Work killed me, babe.” You retort dramatically.

“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach.” The voice makes you jump over and to your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi,”

“Hi,” You reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not oogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face. You’re once again very glad for tinted sunglasses.

“You’re wet,” Your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses, where you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look.

“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach leaving you and Mingyu alone.

You appreciate that, the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first.” You mutter to yourself, looking at the giant umbrella in disdain.

“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?”

“Right here,” You reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up.

Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place so you find no reason to correct yourself and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat.

To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh.

You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed so he leaves you with a smile and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away.

It makes you feel all warm inside, how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you, you just hope it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move, you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job.

So you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.

“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with.” Your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson with one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.

“You signed us up,” You point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker who rolls his eyes.

You know the co-worker personally but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua and he, according to your bestie, had purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.

“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something.” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you but you don’t point it out.

“Sounds ominous.” You declare.

“No,” He chuckles and motions to your best friend who points at herself with wide eyes, sunglasses propped on Joshua’s head so they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance so I should probably hold onto you.”

“Terrible balance.” Your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little.

It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too but most of your attention has been on The Hunky Lifeguard now officially known as Mingyu.

“Okay, so is it okay if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.

“Full consent to touch me however you want.” Your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words.

You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck, looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically.

Spoiler, he definitely is.

“Alright,” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little and turn back to him and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”

Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected, he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water but with his careful guidance even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be, you get your feet under you.

After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively.

And then you make a giant fucking mistake.

Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts because you notice that bouncing too.

Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs.

It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body.

“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.

“I can handle this, Gyu,” This voice is right over you, the owner of the arms and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other any attention.

“I’ve got it, Cheol.” Mingyu assures.

There’s a heavy sigh and then those strong hands leave your body and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side.

“That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern, one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back.

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore but fine otherwise.

When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic.

You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetry about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing.

But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it.

You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.

“Hey,” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.

“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr Lifeguard.” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.”

“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.

“No, no, she’s right.” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol-”

“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing.

“So I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.

“Make her feel all better, Mr Lifeguard.” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up.

Mingyu returns it and you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.

As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you, a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building.

“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” He mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.”

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk.

At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building allowing him to shut the door.

“I’ll grab you a towel.” He declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window.

From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting, being able to watch over everyone like that and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above.

“Can they see us?” You wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand.

“I mean sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us.” He informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, well heat flares in your stomach.

“Have you tested that?”

“Mm, a few times.”

“How?”

Mingyu tilts his head a little at you and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.”

“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me,”

“Just…you know.” You shrug again and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little.

“You should get out of this and dry off.” He suggests while running his hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat.

“I might need some help getting it off.” You reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.”

“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access.

For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false.

Yet you both stay in place.

You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.

“Face me.” He mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper.

Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts where his knuckles brush a little making your breath catch before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.

Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” He checks, noticing how the material of the rashguard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

He glances up at you, checking that this is okay and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.

“Can you-” He starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rashguard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders.

Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without getting up to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms.

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.

“So’re you,” You reply shyly. He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach.

“This okay?” He asked in between kisses on your skin, each growing more daring than the last.

“Y-yeah,” You agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen.

For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs.

Mingyu quickly tugs the rashguard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” He breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe then back again. “So fucking beautiful, baby.”

“Mingyu,” Your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure, you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.

“Lean back, baby,” He encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass.

You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder then leans as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy.

The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own, he sounds like he’s tasted the fucking nectar of the gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general.

You have heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before but you had never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all, holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation and an intensity that has your legs shaking and a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.

“Gyu,” You breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily.

Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more.

Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss.

He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms to hold them aside and away from his face.

Then those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.

Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll back and back arch.

Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers, it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.

Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch and then reluctantly detaching his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand.

Though he doesn’t go far and instead pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.

“Gyu,” The call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you.

He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine.

“D-don’t you want to fuck me?” You ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs so long as he makes you cum like that.

“Fuck you?” He repeats dumbly. You nod and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise and reach down to try and remove them. “No no no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy, I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.”

You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skillfully moving those two fingers in you, slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips.

“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck.” He breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you.

It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect.” He approves and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact.

He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim.

But then his cock twitches desperately and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.

A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole, he wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away but he’s very aware that frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.

As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.

Little does he know, you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open.

But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.

But the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly.

“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” He groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length.

He needs a moment, needs more than one really, with how fucking close he is already to filling you with his cum but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement but he gets the hint, you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.

Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters, the give of your pussy and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly.

“That’s it, hold on, baby,” He encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed.

It’s hard and fast and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know exist before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.

You’re being loud, both of you, moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you cares, neither of you has the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this.

At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened, you probably wouldn’t even notice and honestly, neither would Mingyu.

And when Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest to pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new somehow deeper spot he’s grinding into.

There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact fucking way to cut off your airflow.

It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.

A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth as you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum.

It feels fucking endless, the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss, a neverending pulse of pleasure, pure fucking serenity.

“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock had started to empty in you.

You can’t respond yet, you’re not quite back on planet Earth making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this.

Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.

Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up.

Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards. For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time.

Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.

You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs.

“Hey, beautiful,” He greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?”

“Like I had the life fucked out of me.” You reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck so that you can tug him in and kiss him.

He sighs in contentment as your lips move together slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here.

“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” He murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.”

“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape.

“It was.” He agrees with a chuckle and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?”

“Now?” You baulk.

“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now, I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now.” He assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.”

“That sounds much more reasonable to me.”

“Reasonable, huh?” He teases and nips at your cheek playfully making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?”

“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” You rush to assure, cupping his cheeks and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin.

He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?”

“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.”

“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute happy little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good, I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too and I guess your friend but they can entertain each other at another table.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Taglist; @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

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myfandomrealitea · 3 months

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I know there's a lot of advice for handling things like depression and its so fucking easy for people to say "just do this and you'll feel better!" and I hate that, I fucking despise it, but I'm also gonna throw in my two cents about what is personally helping me get out of bed some days and genuinely, not kill myself.

Its taking care of nature.

Seriously. It sounds stupid and some days it feels stupid, but I put up bird feeders because I live in a semi-rural area where human activity is decimating the local bird population and options for safe feeding. So I put up bird feeders. And now I have like 83 different birds flocking to my garden on the daily and screaming at my window if the feeders are empty. And I've seen generations of baby birds brought to my garden by their parents because this is where the food is.

And I researched what plants and flowers were native to my area and I spent like $5 on a few different seed packets and sprinkled them around the grass and the sad empty flowerbeds and the lawn because the bees have nothing to eat and that's awful and it turns out wildflowers will fucking GROW the moment you look away, but now every spring and summer my lawn is a pretty little multi-colored bug haven.

And I've even gotten the chance to save a few little bug lives because of it. I've taken in cold-shocked bees and given them a warm little tupperware to recover in. I've fed bugs sugar water to get their energy back to take their food home. I've given dying bugs a sheltered, safe place to spend their last moments.

I planted a veggie garden. And I know I'm very lucky in that I have the space to do that, but also, you can grow a lot of things indoors. My friend has literally the smallest apartment you can imagine but she grows chives in her bathroom and grows five radishes at a time in a pot in the kitchen. Literally five. But it makes her so happy every single time she pulls them up or trots off to the bathroom to snip some chives.

I pick trash up every two weeks. The pick stick was like $4 online and I just put the bag out with my bi-weekly trash pick-up and its disgusting but but nobody else is gonna do it and I've only got finite time on this earth. If nobody else is going to pick up that can, I will. Because some innocent wild animal doesn't deserve to get hurt by human ignorance, and I deserve to walk home and see pretty flourishing nature instead of depressing discarded trash like I feel like most days.

I've left water out for the wildlife and watched hedgehogs, local dogs on their walks, squirrels and all sorts stop by to take a drink, because humans are fucking selfish and we're making something as basic as water so hard to access for anyone but ourselves, but I can fix a little bit of that just by putting out a bowl. Sometimes I don't even have to remember to fill it because the rain will fill it for me, and its kind of like nature's way of saying "you're helping me so I'm going to help you out too." Which is neat.

Like most days I do not want to be living on this earth but my god earth did not get a choice about us living here, and we're ruining it, and it actually feels so good to help stop and un-do a little bit of that destruction.

And you don't even have to try everything I do. If the only thing you've got the spoons to do is buy one bird feeder and you only remember to fill it once a month, its still something. That once a month could mean the difference between starvation and a full belly to a bird.

Again, none of this is obligatory and I'm not saying at all this is some magical cure for depression, but personally these things are things which are helping me slowly find things to keep getting out of bed for and things to feel a sense of self worth and satisfaction over. I feel better both in and about myself when I feed the birds, when I see the bugs in the garden, when I pick up the trash.

If its something you haven't considered yet, it might be worth a try.

#myfandomrealitea #sephiroth speaks #reality #mental health #depression #feeling happy #emotions #happiness #nature #caring for nature #earth #green earth #not discourse

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rememberwren · 3 months

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Complicated Pleasures

OR: Home Videos. You (fem!reader) and Ghost have been married for years when your prodigal friend Johnny finds out that you make and post porn together. Feelings happen. 13k

About this: m/m, f/m, oral f and m receiving, anal sex, PIV, kink, pornography, sir kink, slight objectification, objectionable writing, soft!simon, very soft fic altogether, cum sharing.

((A video begins.

A bed in a tidy room. Identifying features have been hidden: pictures placed face down on the nightstands, blinds drawn tight until the room is cast in a cool glow. A woman sits amongst the nondescript bedspread and sheets, her legs tucked up against her chest and arms wrapped around her thighs, naked except for the mask that does little to truly obscure her face.

Once she knows the video has begun, it is like she blooms, arms and legs falling away to reveal the soft petals of her nakedness: the plains of her body, the angles and curves. She’s near perfect, Soap thinks, already fisting his hard cock.

She looks almost exactly like you.

Then a man walks around from the other side of the camera, and Soap’s heart leaves his body.))

“Johnny!” you say brightly, throwing open the front door. In streams the cold air and bright sunshine reflecting off the snow, and in steps Johnny with snowflakes in his hair and on the shoulders of his coat, gifts wrapped in bright shades of gold and silver tucked beneath one of his arms.

He stomps his feet, boots shedding packed snow on the doormat, and leans in to deposit the gifts a safe distance away so that he can open his arms and gather you up in them. Your fingers tangle in his jacket, holding him close. He is warm even after coming in from the snow, his scent like Christmas itself: woodsy pine and crackling fires. You feel Simon’s presence appear in the living room doorway and begin to pull away, trying not to hog his friend, even if you desperately want to.

“Lookit you, bonnie as ever,” Johnny says against your ear. He lets you go, bending down to unlace his boots and call a greeting to Simon: “I see you brooding over there, LT. Happy Christmas to yeh.”

“No titles at Christmas, Johnny.”

“Yessir.”

“You didn’t need to bring gifts,” you scold him.

“Of course I did—it’s fucking Christmas,” says Johnny with a grin as he straightens. He passes you the gifts, a small package and a larger one, each wrapped by a practiced hand that you sense must not have been Johnny’s own. You wonder if there isn’t a girl in his life now—except you and Simon had extended the invitation to one, if so. Why he wouldn’t have brought her, you couldn’t understand.

Maybe his mum wrapped the gifts.

Simon and Johnny clasp hands which turns into a hug. Watching them together makes the dust settle in some riotous part of your heart. The two of them—their friendship—just makes perfect sense in its improbability.

Simon mutters something under his breath and Johnny nods, burying his face deeper into Simon’s broad shoulder. You have the perfect vantage point of Johnny’s face: his eyes squeezed shut, long lashes resting on his cheeks.

A timer in the kitchen goes off—the roast you’ve been cooking since the early morning hours. Excusing yourself, you disappear into the kitchen, pausing just beyond the doorway to press your chilly hands to your flushed cheeks.

Wine. You needed wine.

“So,” you begin once the three of you have sat down for dinner. “Fill us in, Johnny. What have you been up to?”

The unsaid words linger between you all, What have you been up to during the three years you left? Johnny gives a wane smile, and you think that maybe the time spent apart didn’t serve him nearly as well as he’d hoped it would—however he’d hoped it would. Simon sits at the head of the table, his ankle tangled against your own beneath the oak. It’s a comforting reminder of his presence, considering he lets you and Johnny do most of the talking for now.

“Whole lot o’ nothing,” Johnny says, sipping at the wine in his glass between sentences. “Traveled abroad fer a while. Spent some time in America, some time in South Korea.”

“Sounds like a nice place to meet people,” you say, aiming for subtlety the way a sledgehammer might. “I notice you didn’t take us up on our invitation and bring a lass with you.”

“No lass to bring, hen,” he says smoothly.

Simon’s ankle stirs against your own, some silent attempt at communication. When you glance over toward him, his eyes are on his plate, face stoic, revealing nothing.

“Any lads?” you guess.

Simon’s fork squeaks against his plate. Johnny stops eating. For a moment they both stare at you in shocked silence. Then a grin spreads over Johnny’s handsome face, blooming straight into laughter. He shakes his head, like you have said something very silly.

“No, no lads,” he says.

Simon’s ankle shifts again.

You reach for your glass of wine, face hot—

—and you don’t stop drinking.

Afternoon turns into evening, and by the time night falls, the three of you have drunk your way through three bottles of wine and successfully caught each other up on your lives to date. Simon and Johnny have slipped out onto the porch twice to smoke, bringing back in the scent of tobacco and snow, one you don’t mind at all. The fire in the fireplace burns low, crackling and spitting as the log splits. The room is strewn with torn gift wrapping. Simon has already unboxed the knife Johnny had made for him, testing its weight in his palm, testing the sharpness of the blade against the pad of his thumb. (Add that to the list of things which shouldn’t arouse you about Simon but do.)

It reminds you of the idyllic Christmases that you had reached for all your life and only ever skimmed with your fingers. You should have known that the missing piece was Johnny all along.

Wine drunk, you have kicked your feet up on Johnny’s lap at one end of the couch and curled your upper half on Simon’s lap at the other end. It is easy to fall asleep to the warm lull of their voices, swapping stories from their time in the military together.

But all at once, the subject matter changes, and it drags you from the threshold of sleep into some misty gray area in between a dream and wakefulness. Eyes still closed, you listen.

“I found you both, you know.” Johnny’s voice is barely more than a whisper, difficult to hear over the crackling fire.

“Don’t know what you mean, Johnny. We’re right here.”

“I found your videos.”

Your hands tighten into fists where you are clutching Simon’s shirt, eyes cracking open as you put the pieces together in your mind. But he’s smoother than you are, always able to keep a cool head. He sounds a little bored, a little confused as he asks: “What videos?”

“Never known you to play dumb LT. You know the ones I mean. The porn.”

A lengthy silence as Simon weighs his options and likely decides that there’s no use in lying. “You did, did you?”

“Aye.”

A pause.

“So that’s why you finally came back. Three fucking years she begs you to at least come for Christmas—who knew all it would take was a little pornography to put a fire under your arse.”

“That’s not—didn’t even find it until a few days ago, after I’d already said yes—“ Johnny says, voice rising in his defense.

“Careful. We don’t want to wake her up, do we?” Simon’s hand pets against your hair, softer than a kiss from the wind. Though he must know you’re awake, you’re grateful that he lets you pretend, lets you hide away while he handles this. “If she knew that you’d seen those videos, she’d be embarrassed. That would make me upset. You understand?”

“Aye,” he says, lowering his voice a little. He rests his hand against your ankle in his lap and then decides it’s not appropriate, shifts his hand back to his own thigh. You miss his touch. You’ve always missed Johnny’s touch more than you should miss the touch of your husband’s best friend. “But if you didn’t want people to see them, I don’t understand what you were thinkin’ posting them online.”

“Three guesses. No, go on. Never known you to be shy. Guess.”

Johnny wets his lips. “You didn’t think you’d be recognized.”

“There’s one.”

“You…you like it.”

“There’s two. Give us a third.”

“She likes it.”

You groan a little in embarrassment, turning your face away from where Johnny can see its profile, burying it in Simon’s lap. He’s hard, a fact you only realize when his jean-clad cock rubs against your cheek. You go still, eyes widening as this knowledge goes straight to the warmth that’s been stoked between your legs more often than the fireplace has tonight.

Simon’s hand finds the nape of your neck and rests there, keeping you still and quiet. It reminds you of your last video, when he had taken you from behind and put his hand on the nape of your neck to urge your face into the bed, his hips snapping against your ass. Where had the camera been, then? You couldn’t remember. That was Simon’s one rule, besides the masks and never saying each other’s names: don’t look into the camera.

“So what do you plan to do with this knowledge, Johnny?” Simon asks. You hold your breath, still feigning sleep. “Who do you plan to tell? You know I don’t have anyone left who would give a fuck, but I’m sure you could find someone for her—someone who could shame her and make her feel bad for trying to feel good. Is that what you want?”

“Fuck no. I’d not tell a soul,” says Johnny fiercely. His hand comes to rest on your ankle again. This time he leaves it, thumb brushing the bone. “I swear it.”

“Then why bring it up at all?”

“I…I don’t know,” Johnny admits, head ducking. “I just had to. Spending time with yeh both, knowing what I knew—it felt dishonest.”

Simon hums. “You know what I’d like to know?”

“What’s that?”

“What our single friend was doing looking at couples porn.”

The night ends quickly after that. Simon carries you to bed—the bed where you film so much of the porn that Johnny has apparently seen—and helps you begin undressing while Johnny gets his boots on in the other room.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you breathe, quiet so that Johnny could not overhear if he happened to be standing right outside the door. Your head is spinning, and only partly from all the wine. Your face burns. Your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Johnny has seen the videos, the ones you and Simon cheekily dub ‘home movies’! God, how you will ever face him again is beyond you.

“Give me the word and I’ll throw him out,” says Simon. “We’ll never see him again.”

That makes a sick feeling rise up in the back of your throat. You look up at Simon and take in the somber, angry-adjacent expression on his face, and you know that he is serious. Simon never says a word that he doesn’t mean. But you can hear what he didn’t say, the words unspoken: it would kill him to do it. All their years spent watching each other’s backs, it would be hard to stab Johnny’s and leave him in the cold. Especially after the bliss of just getting him back.

You don’t want that. Not for Simon, not for Johnny. Not even for you.

“I like Johnny,” you affirm. “I just don’t know how I’ll face him.”

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. He’s the pervert looking in through our window.”

“We’re the perverts fucking with the blinds wide open,” you remind him.

“I’ll see him out. Finish getting undressed,” he says, disappearing through the doorway. You hear the warm timber of his voice matched by Johnny’s and the sound of the front door opening. Two sets of boots crunch through snow, and now the voices are so far away that you can’t even make out their tone, much less their words.

Stripping the last of your clothes off, you roll onto your belly and bury your face in your pillow. Tonight had been going so well. It was hard to believe how far off course things had become. What was Johnny doing looking for couples porn anyhow?

You roll back over, staring into the darkness of the ceiling. The answer was simple: because it would get him off. It didn’t matter if it was tentacles to titjobs. He’d more than likely been looking up porn while he jerked off.

Had he realized right away that it was you and Simon and turned the video off in disgust? Or had it taken a moment for it to sink in? Had he cared at all?

Or had he jerked off instead? You realize you are rubbing your thighs together belatedly and force yourself into stillness.

The front door opens, Simon stomping inside and taking off his boots. When he joins you in bed, his cheeks are still cold, mouth minty from hastily brushing his teeth of tobacco and wine. You lean in and kiss him, looking for comfort. He kisses back, sweeping his tongue through your mouth, sucking on your lower lip.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” you whisper when you both part, not necessarily out of truthfulness, but because you feel like you shouldn’t be in the mood.

“Wasn’t expecting anything.”

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart. Your embarrassment is a little lessened now, abated by the calm that Simon exudes from his pores. It’s hard to believe that anything in the world could go wrong that Simon couldn’t handle with a twist of his hand or a few choice words. After a while, you glance up to find him still awake, staring into the darkness of the room. He meets your eyes and gives you one of his rare, wane smiles.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

After a moment of silence, he says: “Our next video.”

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WAKING UP MY WIFE WITH MORNING SEX. Soap knows that he shouldn’t click on the link. The first time was an honest mistake, but anything afterwards is intentional—and unforgivable. If Ghost were to find out…Soap doesn’t even want to think about it.

Except why would it be wrong for Soap to do it but right for a bunch of strangers?

He doesn’t need to look down to know his cock is hard. Against his better judgement—or any judgement at all, really—he clicks the link. The video starts with Ghost in the frame, completely naked. He’s seen LT naked often enough (it’s unavoidable in such close quarters as they have shared) but he’s never looked, not like this.

Time has barely changed him. He is still fitter than any man has the right to be, thick with muscles that are for functionality and not just for show—though the show is still impressive.

While he’d always known that Ghost would be a sight to behold, seeing it in this context cements a fact in his brain, one that had sent him running years prior: he’s attracted to his closest friend. All the bad flirting disguised as taking the piss back when they were in the 141—it wasn’t just taking the piss. Not for Soap, at least.

In the video, Ghost exits the frame and crosses to the other side of the bed. He’s not wearing a mask this time but the upper half of his face remains solidly out of frame until it is offscreen again. You are positioned closest to the camera, laying on your side facing the audience. Your face isn’t visible, but your breasts are once Ghost draws the blankets down, down, and then down far enough to reveal your closed thighs.

Fuck, Soap wants to see your cunt. He grips his cock tightly and squeezes, watching raptly as Ghost loops an arm over you and begins to softly tease your nipples. Soap slips a hand up his shirt and thumbs at a nipple of his own, wishing it was the other man’s touch. His cock leaks where it lies thickly against his belly as he watches his former lieutenant tease you, trace figures over your naked body, and at last slip a hand between your thighs, working one of your legs over back of his own. Now Soap can see just a trace of your slit, so soft. It makes his jaws ache, makes him want Ghost to hold your thighs apart so that he can lick and suck you into a frenzy.

He can tell the exact moment you wake. Your body stiffens, mouth falling open as Ghost sinks two of his fingers inside you. One of your hands reaches down to grip at your husband’s forearm as you scramble into wakefulness.

“Good morning,” Ghost says.))

The doorbell sounds, telling Simon that Johnny has arrived, but he lets his Sergeant wait out in the cold while the kettle finishes filling. A not-small part of him is still holding a grudge against Johnny for making you so embarrassed. It had taken time for you to come into your own. Courage. The videos had been your idea, whispered in the heat of the moment beneath the cover of darkness—but with time you’d been bold enough to talk about them over dinner. To read the comments with him and laugh. To watch the videos and end up in bed all over again.

Now he could see the hesitation in your eyes whenever he pulled out his phone.

Johnny’s expression is its typical one, open, friendly, when Simon opens the door. When he sees Simon, those blue eyes grow wide before he can curb the reaction. Johnny swallows, throat bobbing.

“Hey LT. Lookit you. Laswell really has yeh behind a desk now doesn’t she?” Johnny’s hand reached out like he’s going to touch the tie that still dangles from around Simon’s neck, but he thinks better of it.

Just another hunch of Simon’s proven right.

“What part of no field work confused you?” Simon asks, stepping aside to let Johnny in.

“No confusion. Just didn’t expect yeh to look so…” He trails off, eyes flittering over Simon from his combed hair to his dress shirt stretched tight across his chest to the dress slacks that cling to his thighs. “…fancy.”

“I don’t wear the tie for Laswell’s benefit. But you already knew that.”

Johnny flushes, as good an admission as any. Wisely, he says nothing, following Simon into the kitchen and taking an offered seat at the kitchen island. His eyes flicker around the room, similar to how they had on Christmas. Then, Simon had mistaken it for Johnny taking in the way things had changed—the wallpaper is new, as is the backsplash behind the oven and stove, there are new pictures on the refrigerator—but now Simon suspects that Johnny is remembering. Piecing together backdrops he has seen in their videos.

“The missus home?” Johnny asks, drumming his fingers on the granite.

“No. Work.”

Simon pours tea for two, even though Johnny hates tea, and slides it across the countertop to him. To his benefit, Johnny accepts it without complaint, warming his hands around the mug.

“I told her.”

Johnny doesn’t need to ask what or who—they’ve both been thinking about it since the moment he walked in. Simon watches as his face twists with naked regret. It tells Simon that Johnny really didn’t know that you were only feigning sleep on Christmas.

“Is she angry with me?”

“Embarrassed.”

Johnny looks outraged on your behalf. “She has no reason t’ be!”

Simon shrugs as if to say, This is what your curiosity bought her, Johnny. This is the price she’s paying. Johnny’s shoulders sag under the weight of his own guilt, elbows bracing themselves on the countertop so that he can put his face in his hands.

“Maybe,” says Simon, “it would make more of a difference if she heard it from you.”

Johnny looks up, brow furrowed. “Heard what from me? That I’ve seen her—like that?”

Simon’s eyes roll to the ceiling. “No. That she doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

Johnny turns the idea over in his head. He’s clever, but too blinded by his own desire to see the manipulation for what it is. What does it matter if it’s Simon’s idea or his own? Johnny is dying to talk to you.

“You’d give me her number?”

Simon shrugs.

“Alright,” says Johnny at length, drawing the word out. “I can do that. If you think it will help.”

Simon says nothing, sipping at his tea to hide any smugness behind his cup.

((The video begins in a kitchen, one Johnny has been in many times. You are there, back mostly to the camera, pressed against the granite island countertop. Simon is on the other side of you, consuming all your attention. Steaming Jesus, he’s huge compared to you, huge compared to everyone. He’s dressed in his work attire: dress clothes, dark tie in place. The effect is jarring in contrast with the mask.

Simon reaches up and works his tie loose and off over his head. You tilt your head down a little and on it goes, easy as anything. When Simon turns you to face the camera, the tie dangles between your bare breasts. One hand on the nape of your neck, Simon bends you forward towards the granite and Soap can tell the exact moment his cock slips inside you based on the way your mouth falls open, your eyes squeezing shut behind your own mask.

Soap isn’t sure who he’s jealous of more—you or Simon.))

Simon told me that he told you what I found. I just wanted to message you myself and say how sorry I am if I embarrassed you.

You sigh reading over the text message. Flexing your fingers, you give a quick glance toward where Simon lays dozing with his head against the back of the couch, feet up on the coffee table (the knife he got for Christmas rests on his chest; he’d been toying with it absently for the last half hour) and answer: There’s no reason to apologize. It’s not your fault I’m embarrassed.

It is though, isn’t it? You don’t care that other people see. You just care that I did.

You pause and bite at your nails, thinking over his words and how to respond. He’s mostly right. There had been an aspect of embarrassment at first when you and Simon began posting the videos (and that embarrassment had gotten you off to a certain extent, though it didn’t usually). But eventually that heated shame had melted away into eagerness for the camera. You’d read the comments on the videos, countless human beings talking about the various ways they masturbate to your sex with Simon, talking about the things they wish they could do to you, with you, with Simon.

So why was it so much more embarrassing knowing that Johnny had seen? Because he knew you. Because he’d seen the parts of you that you had purposefully covered up for the camera. No one was meant to see both sides—no one was meant to have all of you. Except for Simon.

But if somebody was going to do it, a small part of you is glad it was Johnny.

You’re Simon’s friend, you message back, curious. Didn’t it feel strange to see us like that?

Honestly? He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Not as strange as I might have thought.

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WIFE PRACTICES HER BLOWJOB SKILLS, the video is aptly titled. You are on your knees, hands tied neatly at the base of your spine. Simon sits at the edge of the bed, camera positioned perpendicular to you both, with a downward angle.

You lean forward and let his hard, flushed cock disappear past your lips deeper, deeper, until you reach the limits of what you can take without preparation or practice. His hand comes down to rest softly against the back of your head as you make yourself gag and choke around the thickest part of his cock. There’s no need to hold you down; Simon doesn’t even bother.

Soap’s jaw aches, desperate for a chance to be on his knees for Ghost like that. He could take more than you—he knows he could. Not that it had to be a competition, not when you both could share a cock that size and barely notice the other was there. He strips his own cock thinking about it, eyes falling shut as he lets the background noise of the video—Simon’s gentle praises, your whines and chokes, the wet gurgles of a throat being fucked—carry him over the edge.))

New Year’s Eve.

The house is full of bodies and laughter. You feel near-delirious with your own joy, never made happier than by the happiness of the people around you. Alejandro and Rodolfo had flown in and were staying in the guest house through the New Year, arriving only yesterday with enough luggage for four between the two of them; Kyle and his girlfriend; John and his wife; Kate and her partner; even Farah and her brother had made a pit stop to spend the evening with you on their way back to Urzikstan from the Americas.

The party had been BYOB, and everyone had taken to the sentiment and more. Farrah is mixing drinks in the kitchen, strong concoctions that even John struggles to keep down. Gaz and Alejandro keep insisting on shots (which you politely decline just as often as you agree. Simon drinks nothing, his tumultuous past putting him off of hard alcohol for good).

People are well and truly drunk by the time Johnny arrives. The whoops and hollers that fill the house have you thinking that midnight has come early. A swarm of bodies surround him, and he is forced to make the rounds hugging each person and being taken to task by them for being gone for so goddamn long.

He arrives at you before Simon, and his face softens, smile going a little unsure around the edges as he opens his arms for you, the first time he’s seen you in person since Christmas. You could rebuff him, but you also can’t. It’s Johnny. Nearly tripping to toss yourself into his arms, he lifts you a few inches off the floor, nose buried in your hair.

“Bonnie as always,” he whispers into your ear after putting you back down. His hand tugs teasingly on the short hem of your dress, like he is trying to lengthen it, knuckles brushing your thighs. You swat his hand away, face flushing with warmth. It wasn’t that short.

“Johnny,” Simon calls. The two men embrace, hug lasting longer than any other. In the distance, you see Gaz elbow Price, jerking his head toward the two men.

You put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, anxious suddenly. Simon draws back, clapping Johnny on the shoulder. He orders: “Get yourself a drink.”

“Yessir.”

“None of that.”

“Games? I was told there would be games,” Gaz says, situating himself between you and Simon. He’s dressed smartly in a dress-shirt with the collar undone. Someone has put a party hat on him, cone-shaped, to celebrate the New Year. You had managed to wrestle Simon into one for thirty seconds before the first of the company arrived; the memory makes you smile.

“I have Cards Against Humanity,” you offer.

“Oh, I love that game,” Kyle’s girlfriend says to your delight.

“No—no—we aren’t in middle school here,” Johnny says. “And if we are, then I want to play truth or dare so my chances of getting kissed tonight rises exponentially.”

“Come over here and they will,” Gaz offers.

“Don’t make promises you’re not ready to keep, Garrick,” Johnny warns, grinning.

“Sounds like something a coward would say, all due respect—”

Then Johnny has a fistful of Kyle’s shirt, hauling him in for a bold though chaste kiss on the mouth. You are suddenly hyper aware of Simon beside you, standing tall and very still while everyone laughs and cheers at the men’s antics. You can’t deny it’s a pleasing sight, but a part of you feels irritated with the whole display.

“Jesus Christ,” John sighs, tipping his hat back on his head. “Soap’s right—if you’ve got a normal deck of cards, love, I know plenty of games for adults to play.”

“Not sure I want to play those kinds of games with you, John,” Kate says somberly to the laughs of everyone around her.

“We’ve got cards,” Simon mutters.

Farah calls to you from the kitchen, asking you to try her latest conglomeration of alcohol. Eager to be anywhere but there, you escape to the kitchen. You lift yourself up onto one of the stools at the island, taking the red plastic cup from her hand and sniffing it. Just the smell burns the hairs of your nose.

“Jesus, Farah, this could kill me,” you laugh.

“Pathetic,” she says with a grin to lighten her words. “I think I saw some apple juice in the refrigerator, would you like that instead?”

“Alright.”

“A warm glass of milk, perhaps?”

“You’ve made your point,” you say, eyes narrowing in good humor. Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves (and stomach), you take a generous swig of the cup. Fuck, it burns going down and it burns in your belly, like swallowing a lit flame. You cough a little, trying not to gag, and hold up your thumb to her. “It’s great—so good—“

Simon comes to sit beside you at the island. He takes the cup, smells it, and raises both brows.

“Can I tempt you, Lieutenant?” Farah asks.

“No.”

“Then I won’t try. Where’s John, he’s never afraid of a challenge.”

Unseen to her beneath the island, fingertips brush your stocking-covered thighs. Your knees clamp together on instinct as you fight not to look over at Simon. What is he doing?

He strikes up a conversation with Farah about her time spent in the Americas. When his hand doesn’t move, your thighs relax a little. He was just being intimate; often he liked to have a hand on your back or his foot resting against your own beneath the table. It wasn’t his fault you were on edge. Your head spins a little, thanks to the shots and Farah’s drink. Planting one elbow on the countertop, you try to focus on her stories when Simon’s hand moves again, slipping further between your legs. The hem of your dress has ridden up so high in your seated position that it doesn’t take much for his fingertips to graze against the heated seam between your legs.

You clamp your knees shut again. He pinches your thigh softly, just enough to get the message through to you. Staring at Farah, hearing nothing, you spread your shaking knees again and let him cup you between your legs. Fuck. You tilt your hips, making as if to adjust your position on the chair. It only serves to bring you in closer contact with Simon’s hand. A groan is born and dies in the back of your throat.

He keeps you there, holding your cunt, having a fluent conversation with Farah while your brain melts out your ears. At length, he stands. Leaning down, he says in your ear: “Outside, two minutes. Go out the back.”

Then he disappears amongst the sea of people

Three minutes later you are shivering out in the snow. Your coat only helps so much with your legs bare save for your stockings. You hadn’t even had time to lace up your boots. Shifting from one foot to the other in the spotlight of the floodlights to keep warm, you cast glances left and right wondering from which direction Simon will come, wondering what he wants that couldn’t have taken place in doors.

At last he appears, looking far warmer than you in his olive green jacket and jeans, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You smile at the sight of him. He doesn’t smile back.

“Put your hands against the wall.”

“Simon?”

He sighs, running a hand over the curve of your waist, testing its fit in his palm. “Now I’ll have to edit that part out. Let’s try again. Put your hands on the wall.”

You see then the phone placed just-so in the breast pocket of his coat. The glossy camera lens stares back at you, no flashing red light, nothing nearly so 1999. But you knew it was filming. What was it seeing now? The house in the background, the cool blue siding and brick. You, face surprised, lips chapped from the cold weather lately, your sexy little golden dress nearly obscured beneath your coat.

“The time to back out is now,” Simon prods you.

But there’s no way you’re backing out, not after the kitchen. Not after the hazy arousal you’ve been walking around in all night just at the thought of seeing Johnny again. Turning around, you reach out with shaking hands and place them against the freezing cold siding. You can see your breath like a smoky plume with each of your frantic exhales as Simon’s hands grip your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your dress and finding your stockings to tug them down around your knees.

“Got to keep quiet for me,” he says. “Can you do that?”

“Yessir,” you whisper, wishing you were close enough to the house to rest your heated cheek against it.

Simon gives a heavy exhale at your words and you grin, unseen.

Your panties join your stockings stuck around your knees. It doesn’t give you much space to spread your legs, but Simon is so lengthy that he doesn’t need the extra room. He doesn’t press against your back, ever-conscious of the camera and its angles, but you hear the sound of his belt being undone and like a Pavlovian response, it has you drooling between the legs. His cock is burning warm when it brushes against your ass, and you find yourself arching your back, seeking to put that heat inside you.

He hums, hands spreading you wide as he can for the benefit of the camera, even if the lighting isn’t the best to see your entrance.

“Pretty fucking girl,” he mutters. The position can’t be comfortable for him, but he’s never seemed to care about that. He reaches down to grip the base of his cock and guides the head inside you. It is a tight fit without any preparation, but he keeps the penetration shallow, rocking you back and forth on just the head, sometimes letting his cock slip free to brush against your aching clit. Your teeth clamp together, desperate to keep your sounds in—usually during home videos, Simon encouraged you to be noisy (“for the audience”). Now you found yourself struggling not to give in to the old habit.

All of the sudden, his hand is in your hair, turning your head, guiding it to change directions until you are looking at your footsteps in the snow leading back the way you came—

Until you are looking squarely at Johnny, standing nearly frozen in the snow at the edge of the house. He’s wearing his coat and boots, hands jammed deep into his coat pockets. The darkness makes it hard to make out the subtlety of his features, but you can tell that his mouth is dropped open in an expression of near comical disbelief.

You barely manage to keep from choking out Simon’s name, your entire body going stiff—your cunt rippling around his cock. He laughs, a low rumbling chuckle that has you squeezing your eyes shut. A whine slips free from your throat and the wind must carry it straight to Johnny, because you hear his quiet, Steamin’ Jesus.

“He’s been waiting for this all night, I bet,” Simon mutters, his hips snapping against yours. Your hands scramble to find purchase against the siding, slip down a little to grip the bricks which offer you more resistance. “Watching you flit back and forth in this dress, knowing what you look like underneath it. He wishes it was him fucking you right now.”

“No,” you gasp, scandalized.

Simon just laughs again. The sound doesn’t embarrass you, just ratchets your own dizzying arousal higher. You can’t take your eyes off of Johnny, who has stumbled two or three steps closer in the snow and now has his hand against the house very similarly to you. His other hand is in a fist at his side. Closer like this, there’s no mistaking the heated expression in his eyes. Nor the bulge in his pants.

“Oh God,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut again and turning away.

“Look at him—look at him. He wants to touch himself,” Simon says, borderline conversational as his dick makes the most heinous squelching noises inside your body. “But I don’t think he’s got the balls.”

One of your hands comes off the bricks and reaches down between your thighs—but Simon grabs it at the last moment and pins it back in its place, sending you nearly to tears.

“Cum on my cock or don’t cum at all,” he says, feeling cruel.

The both of you know that that likely means you won’t cum at all, not like this, and the knowledge threatens to undo you. He’s going to get you three-fourths of the way there and then leave you like this, edge you in front of all of your closest friends and not satisfy you until the very last one has left. Tears well in your eyes, beading up at the corners.

Behind you, his thrusts grow sloppy. You dare another glance towards Johnny and see his turned back, both his hands in his mohawk gripping at his hair like he is fighting with himself. Your eyes fall shut; you’re fighting a battle of your own, you can’t be concerned about his. Simon groans lowly, filling you with his seed. He pulls out in a wet rush of fluids, reaching down to stave off his dripping seed and save your leggings from destruction.

Gently, he fucks his cum back into you with his fingers. He wipes it across your swollen folds and in the soaked crotch of your panties before pulling them back up to rest safely on your hips. Bending down, he wipes his hands clean in the snow and then on his jacket before helping you pull your stockings up into place. The tears in your eyes have overflowed by now, dripping down your cheeks and off your chin. When you glance over, Johnny is gone.

“Okay?” Simon murmurs, fiddling with his phone. He stops the video.

“Yeah,” you sigh shakily. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Moments to midnight and you are searching for Simon. His figure should be easy to spot, but his head isn’t visible above the sea of people, nor is his baritone voice audible amongst the cacophony of others.

Someone else is notably missing as well. An itch in the back of your brain swells, one you have to follow to scratch.

Countdowns begin. You peek out the window nearest to you but see no sign of either man outside in the snow smoking. Watching couples pair off, you pad on bare feet (having kicked off your heels ages ago) toward the master bedroom, slipping into the dim hallway that forks off to the bedroom, the guest bath, and the office. That hallway is where you find them, standing in the dark toe to toe. Simon has Johnny up against the wall, clutching fistfuls of Johnny’s shirt, nearly tearing it. In the dim lighting, you can barely make out their features.

For a moment, you think they are about to come to blows. You are ready to step between them, to take either of them by the ear like an old school matriarch and remind them that they are friends and they love each other and this is no way to act amongst family—but then the others cry out for midnight and they kiss.

Oh God, do they kiss. Johnny’s shirt strains in Simon’s hands as he lifts the other man the last few inches needed to slot their mouths together comfortably. There is no chaste peck, no soft exploration of tongues, it is a frenzied open-mouthed devouring of each other, jaws flexing as if to open up and swallow the other whole.

Claps and cheers ring out in the living room, jolting Simon and Johnny apart. Before you can even string together a sentence, Johnny has brushed by you, one hand pressing at his mouth. He grabs his coat and leaves out the front door without so much as a goodbye to anyone.

The party is over. The sun is rising. Alejandro and Rodolfo have retired out to the guest house leaving you and Simon behind to clean up the mess in more ways than one. Eyes tired but brain buzzing, you come into the living room with a half-filled trash bag in your arms to find Simon sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, his head in his hands.

You drop the trash bag and go to him, climbing into his lap. He sighs and lets his head rest against your breasts, breaths slow and deep, not betraying any of the turmoil that might be going on in his mind.

“He’ll be back,” you promise, stroking your fingers through his cropped hair. “He’ll come back, baby.”

You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

“Have you two done that before?” you ask.

Simon shifts. He turns until his ear presses against your sternum, like he is listening to your heart for the answer. He says: “No. Once—almost, I think. But you know what he’s like. So fucking persistent. And bright. Like he’s got the bloody sun inside him.”

“You never told me.”

“Wasn’t anything to tell.” He looks up at you with dark eyes, decidedly grim despite his words: “We doing this?”

“Seems so,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails just to watch how his eyes get heavy. Simon so often denies himself simple pleasures, but he deserves them. The simple ones and the complicated ones.

“He belongs to me,” Simon says at length, slow, like he is working it out for himself. “Just like you do.”

“No baby,” you remind him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. “He belongs to us.”

((It becomes a degenerate ritual.

Soap gets home from work and showers. As soon as the steam hits the bathroom mirror, he’s hard, but he doesn’t touch himself; refuses to. He showers and cleans himself perfunctorily, cock aching. It is just as familiar with this ritual as he is, just as hungry for it. It knows what is coming.

After he is clean and dry, he’ll go naked into his room and bring out his laptop. He always sits at his desk—hates having the laptop on his lap, wants it somewhere stable and safe so he can have both hands free to touch himself—and then he brings up your porn page with Simon. There are more than fifty videos he can choose from. Some he has only seen once, especially those early videos when you both were still getting a feel for the process and working out your nerves. There are others that are old favorites, ones that he knows every word to, one where he could mimic your every sigh and whine if he wanted to.

And sometimes, like on nights such as this, there’s a new video. His heart jumps to his throat.

AMATEUR COUPLE: ARGUMENT TURNS INTO SEX (NO AUDIO). Fuck, just the title has mind whirling. It was just for show, surely—he couldn’t imagine you both filming one of your actual arguments for the sake of good pornography—but he was intrigued nonetheless. Some of his favorite videos featured Ghost getting a little rougher with you, and you giving back as good as you got.

He clicks the link. The video begins in the bedroom, recognizable to him now as your own. The camera is in the corner facing the bed at an angle giving a wide vantage point, like a voyeur standing at attention. Like Soap himself has snuck in and is watching. Just the thought has him gripping the base of his cock, a soft groan passing his lips.

You’re sitting on the bed, mask in place. Your arms are crossed, mouth downturned into a frown as Simon enters the screen. The first minute or so truly looks like an argument, the occasional jerky hand gesture from you coupled with Simon’s clipped responses. Soap tries to read your lips, but he’s never been very good at it; he can’t make out a single word of what the two of you might be saying. Then the aura changes, the tense energy from the argument turning into something slicker, something sexual as Simon comes around the bed and puts his hand on the center of your naked chest, pressing you back, back until you are laying down.

You fight against him, batting his hand out of the way. He pins you down easily, so much larger and stronger than you. Soap grips his cock at the thought of being in your place, being pinned to the bed with Ghost’s massive figure over him. Ghost wouldn’t need to be gentle with him either, not the way he was with you. Soap wouldn’t mind. Soap would like it, the same way he liked it in the hallway at your house when Simon gripped him by the shirt and nearly jerked him right out of his boots.

Your head comes off the bed, mouth chasing Ghost’s—but he draws away. Soap can almost hear the laugh he clearly gives, the rumbling chuckle that would be tangible in his chest. You grit your teeth together, jaw tight. Now when Simon bends down to kiss you, you turn your head away, a childish game of cat and mouse. He grips your chin and turns it back toward him, heavy on the eye contact. When you two finally kiss, it is rough, two hungry people searching for dirty secrets behind each other's teeth.

Ghost kisses his way down your body, sucking bruises wherever he can. By the time he’s in between your legs, you are writhing, hands gripping his hair and trying to guide his mouth to the place that needs it most. He tugs your thighs over his shoulders, pins you to the bed with one massive forearm, and eats you out like a starving man. The angle for the camera isn’t the best here, but Soap can’t take his eyes off of you anyway: your body tight as a bowstring, breasts pressed together from the position of your arms, tendons of your neck straining as your head tilts backwards.

Soap begins to work his cock over faster, watching your pleasure. When Ghost stops, he leaves you on the edge if your tortured expression is anything to go by, but you let him maneuver you into the position he wants—hands and knees, an old favorite for LT it seems—but this time is special, because this time you are forced to face the camera dead on.

It’s like you’re looking Soap in the eye. The brief flash of guilt this gives him only serves to ratchet his desire higher, his cock dripping precum over his knuckles as he fists it. Ghost slips his cock inside you and sets a brutal pace that you are eager to meet, your hands twisting in the bedspread as you press yourself further back against his cock.

Ghost leans down and mutters something in your ear. More than ever, Soap misses the audio. Whatever he says has your eyes flashing to meet the camera lens, and you do so with near girlish shyness, like you are seeing it for the first time, like you have only just noticed it’s been there all these months. Your eyes can’t catch on it at first, flittering away every chance you get. Ghost’s thrusts slow to deep grinds. He wraps a hand around your throat and says more, lips moving against the nape of your neck. Fuck, what Johnny wouldn’t give to be able to read lips.

This time you look back at the camera and keep your eyes there. Ghost resumes his thrusts, each one making your breasts bounce softly, but your eyes never leave the lens, always quick to return even when they briefly fall shut.

Your pleasure waxes when you slip a hand between your thighs, and you begin murmuring something repeatedly, just a discrete little movement of your lips. But at Ghost’s prodding, you begin to cry it out louder and louder until Soap is damn near sure that you are screaming, your lips forming the same syllables over and over again if only Soap were able to make them out. Your eyes roll back as you cum, arms growing weak until you dip and rest your upper body against the bed giving the camera an excellent view of Simon fucking into you from behind, the arch of your body, the curve of your waist to the width of your hips.

Soap cums when Ghost does, Ghost’s head lolling to the side as his thrusts grow sloppy and forceful, making a mess of you no doubt.

It isn’t until later when he’s in bed that he recognizes the word you were chanting for what it is.

How it took him so long to recognize his own name he’ll never know.))

He comes back.

Simon has just returned from taking Alejandro and Rodolfo to the airport. Ever since New Year’s Eve, there has been a quietness about him which breaks prior records. Neither of you say it, but if Johnny leaves this time, it will take more out of him than it had before. It will take something out of you, too. You spend the days trying to keep busy, checking your phone too often for texts that don’t come.

You’ve just taken the kettle off the stove when the doorbell rings, and both of you know. Your eyes meet across the kitchen. Simon nods his head toward the door, and you rush to answer it, feeling your heart in your throat. Johnny stands there on the step looking sheepish and cold, his boots and the bottom quarter of his jeans wet, like he has walked here from a great distance.

“May I come in?” he asks.

Simon appears behind you. Johnny gives him a wavering smile. Without a word, you hold the door open, stepping aside to let him in.

“Didn’t think you’d be back,” Simon says coolly.

“Didn’t think I’d be back either,” Johnny admits. He wets his lips. “I…I need to come clean. It’s eatin’ me up inside. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t fucking think without it being about the two of you. I don’t know what to do with myself except put myself at your feet and ask fer your forgiveness.”

“Johnny, that’s not—”

“No,” says Simon, stilling the words on your tongue. “I think that’s a good place to start. Get on your knees, Johnny.”

Johnny blinks once, face the picture of innocent ignorance—but then he is dropping to his knees hard enough for you to hear them crack against the hardwood underneath. He obeys without thinking, because that is something that has always been easy for him to do: obey Simon. Think later.

Simon’s hand reaches out, slow enough to give Johnny a chance to flinch away, but he doesn’t. Instead Simon threads his fingers through Johnny’s mohawk, the sides which are growing out just a little too long. Johnny’s eyes fall shut at the touch, and the whole thing goes straight to your belly, arousal making your head light.

“You liked watching so much,” Simon says, voice low and quiet. “I think it’s time we put you to good use.”

“We have rules. Don’t look at the camera, don’t say each other’s names, and do as I say. Can you handle that?” Simon asks.

“Rules of engagement. Yessir.”

Simon snorts softly at Johnny’s eagerness. “Glad to see you still know to follow directions. But let’s see how well. Strip. Everything off. You won’t need it.”

Johnny’s hands find the neckline of his shirt and tug it off over his head, revealing a body that is all smooth muscle and tan skin. The dark hair on his chest thickens just below his navel, trailing down into his jeans which he unbuttons without ceremony, feet working to step out of his shoes at the same time. He keeps his balance well, already slipping into a focused, strangely familiar headspace. You make yourself as small as possible on the bed, arms looped around your legs, eyes watching him hungrily. It’s been so long that you’ve wanted to see Johnny like this; now that it’s on the verge of becoming true, you feel shy and unsure.

Johnny keeps his eyes on yours while he pushes his pants down his thighs and steps out of them. He smiles at you, soft and understanding, and only then do you let your eyes flicker down to take in his cock: he is hard, uncut, thick as Simon even if he can’t have him beaten in length. His dexterous fingers wrap around the shaft, stroking himself, the flushed head disappearing and reappearing in his fist.

“What do you think?” Simon asks you, voice a low rumble at your side. His eyes are watching you, concerned with you first and foremost. “Is he pretty enough?”

Johnny makes an offended sound.

“I’d say so,” you answer, aiming for unaffected and landing somewhere amongst breathless. Already you can feel the tension between your legs, a deep seated ache as your pussy drools onto the sheets below you.

“You want to suck his cock,” says Simon. It’s not a question, but your head bobs anyway. “Go on, then. Crawl to him.”

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawl to him, focusing on the mechanics of it instead of trying to feign sexiness. At the edge of the bed, you slip off and down to the floor amongst the pile of his clothes, laying your hands on his thighs and looking up at him from beneath his cock.

He lets out a shaky breath. “You’re gonna suck my dick?”

You nod.

Johnny looks to Simon with a helpless expression as if to ask, What do I do? When you glance back over your shoulder, you see that Simon is giving him nothing to work with, face a blank slate except for his raised brows. Phone in hand, aimed at the two of you. The sight of it seems to steel Johnny’s nerves. He’s never been one to be shy.

“Go at yer own pace, lass,” he says.

Leaning in, you trace your lips against the side of his shaft, feeling the velvety softness against your mouth. He smells like he showered before he came over, though you wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t. Johnny always smells good—even on those days before he went away when he and Simon would go running together, pushing each other to their limits, returning sweaty and exhausted. Now after all this time you get to see if he tastes as good as he smells. You part your lips and leave open mouthed kisses along his length, looking up at him through your lashes when you feel his fingers sink into your hair. His mouth is parted as he watches you raptly, pupils blown wide.

Confidence mounting, you take the head past your lips and suckle, treating him just as soft and sweetly as you know Simon won’t. Above you, he groans, hips jerking until you take another inch or two past your lips. You let him, rising up on your knees to adjust the angle, sinking your way down until his head brushes the softness at the back of your throat. Taking a calming inhale, you swallow and press forward, letting him sink into your throat until your gag reflex can take no more and forces him out.

Johnny moans like he’s dying, his hands shaking as he fights not to thrust into your throat. Words stream from his mouth, filthy Scottish-tinted praises that have you wriggling in your place, desperate for a hand between your thighs.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Simon asks.

“Never seen no one like her,” Johnny gasps, one hand letting go of your hair so that he can wipe the drool from the side of your mouth. He gives a weak laugh. “And I—fuuck, fuck—I’ve looked.”

“She’ll suck you off until you tell her to stop. Doesn’t matter how long you leave her at it,” Simon says. Fabric rustles behind you, and you ache to be able to turn and see what he is doing. But you are more determined to prove your goodness to Johnny. “Sometimes when I work from home she keeps my cock warm at my desk.”

“Dunno how you get a goddamn thing done with her mouth around yeh.”

“Discipline.”

“I left mine in my other pants—fuck, I’m gonna cum. Are you one of those dirty girls that swallows?” he asks.

You nod. Simon is there suddenly, a warm presence at your shoulder as he passes Johnny the camera. Nearly wrecked, Johnny’s hands shake as he aims it down at you, looking at you through the lens. His balls draw up, cock lengthening that last little bit as he spills into your mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” Simon says at the last moment. You whine but obey. Simon pulls you up and nearly makes you dizzy with the way he kisses you, licks into your open mouth lapping Johnny’s seed from your tongue.

“Jesus, Mary, ‘n Joseph,” Johnny breathes, belatedly remembering to turn the camera onto you both. This will likely be the messiest video you’ve ever made transition wise, but you have a feeling that it will be your favorite.

When the kiss ends, you swallow and pull off to open your mouth, showing Johnny—and the audience—what they want: that you’ve swallowed your portion like a good girl.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have cum,” Johnny laughs weakly. “We’ve barely started. I don’t want this to be over.”

“You’ll cum again,” Simon says. “But it’s time to give someone else a turn. Sitrep?”

Johnny is all grins. “All good here, sir.”

It makes you shiver to hear Johnny call him that. You’ve heard it countless times before, but never like this. The context turns the word into something foreign, something sexy. Not to mention, you know exactly what it does to Simon. Not for the first time, you wonder if his wires didn’t get a little crossed during his time enlisted, if he didn’t learn that particular kink from hearing Johnny chirp it at him every day.

“Good boy,” says Simon softly, reaching out to ruffle Johnny’s mohawk. Johnny bats his hand away, but it’s impossible to miss the way he flushes from the cheeks down his chest at those words. Simon sets the phone on the tripod in the corner, making minor adjustments, and then turns his eyes to you. “C’mere.”

He sets you up against the headboard, your back against his chest. He parts your thighs, reaching down to use his thumbs to spread your sex open for Johnny’s hungry gaze, for the camera’s lens. You hide your masked-face behind your hands, hips rising toward his touch, desperate for the stimulation.

“Pent up?�� Simon asks, voice rough.

A sound slips past your lips, low and needy..

“This what you want?” His calloused fingers ghost over your swollen clit.

“Yes,” you mumble, voice muffled by your hands.

“Be a good girl and you’ll get it. You know how to be a good girl?”

“How?”

“Stay relaxed. Keep your thighs open. And don’t lie to me. Can you do that?”

You nod. Yes. Easy things. You fight to relax your body, loosening your muscles. Your hands fall to rest against Simon’s thighs, eyes cracking open to watch Johnny who has seated himself at the end of the bed out of the way of the camera’s view. When he sees you looking, he smiles, reassuring and warm. His cock, which had been soft moments ago, already looks noticeably more interested in the events taking place.

Simon drags his fingers over your clit. You tense all over, sucking in a breath before you remember his first rule and relax, going loose and soft again. He waits, patient. The next time he strokes you, you stay malleable, and he hums deep in his chest, pleased with the progress. His hand cups your whole sex, palm huge compared to you.

“When was the first time you ever wanted to fuck our boy over here?” Simon asks.

You know that he can’t use Johnny’s name, not on film, but neither you nor Johnny had expected the flashbang of this term of endearment. Johnny seems to melt, his eyes going heavy-lidded at the thought of being ‘your boy’. You can’t help but feel the incredible rightness of his words. They resonate deep in your chest like the ringing of a bell, tangible down to your fingertips and toes. Johnny is yours, and he is Simon’s.

“How long?” Simon asks again, more firmly.

“Since—since you brought him home.”

Simon slips two fingers past your entrance as a reward for your honesty. Their thickness has you gasping, fingers scrambling for purchase against his thighs. He hums something in your ear—probably a reminder about trying to relax—and you do try, but it is hard when you ache as badly as you do. You find yourself digging your heels into the bedspread, lifting your hips to try and work his fingers deeper inside of you. He feeds them to your cunt all the way to the last knuckle.

“How’s she feel, sir?” Johnny asks.

“Like the only heaven the likes of us will ever know.”

“I believe it,” Johnny sighs. “Give us a taste.”

Simon extends his fingers and Johnny takes them onto his tongue, licking and sucking the digits clean. You’re close enough to Simon to feel his inhale, to feel the way his cock jumps where it’s pressed against your lower back. He plays at being unaffected, but Simon isn’t immune to the powers of finger-sucking. He isn’t immune to Johnny.

Then he says: “Put that mouth to work, Johnny.”

Johnny drops to his belly between your thighs, breath fanning across your folds. Simon has to pin your legs apart, humming when your nails dig into the skin of his forearms. They are teaming up on you, against you, and you feel so small pinned between them.

“Dreamed of this,” Johnny sighs into your pussy. He nuzzles against you, nose brushing your slit before licking a thick stripe up your folds. He laps at the honey leaking from your entrance, broad strokes of his tongue as Simon’s fingers keep you spread open for his hungry mouth.

Sometimes Johnny’s tongue laps over Simon’s fingers, and when it does, you feel his cock twitch against your back. It only serves to remind you how empty you feel. Your hands grip Johnny’s hair, guiding his soft mouth to your clit where he sucks and laps contentedly, and you beg for his fingers.

He moans against you, voice vibrating through your pussy. His hips have started a slow grind against the bedspread, desperate for friction as his blue eyes find Simon’s dark ones, silently asking for permission.

Simon nods. Johnny slips his middle-most two fingers into you, hooking them softly, searching for that spongy, textured place just inside you. It’s everything you needed, the pleasure in your belly rising to a near painful crest. Your hand scrambles to find one of Simon’s, lacing your fingers together as you burst against Johnny’s tongue, squeezing his fingers, barely remembering to keep from calling his name.

Johnny lays his head against your inner thigh, panting. His eyes are foggy, pussy-drunk as he struggles to focus on you both, his fingers still tucked softly inside you.

“Break,” Simon whispers, kissing your neck. He shifts out from behind you, the only one of you still fully dressed. Going to the tripod in the corner, he pauses the camera and then leaves the room.

“Great abrupt bastard, isn’t he?” Johnny asks, slipping his fingers out from inside you. He goes to lick them clean, but you stop him, bringing his hand to your own mouth and cleaning your slick from his fingers, tongue searching for your taste all the way to the webbing between his knuckles. His laugh is breathy. “You like that? Like the taste of pussy?”

You nod, slipping your mask off briefly.

“Need a pretty girl to play with then, not the likes of me.”

Your hand latches around his wrist as he goes to pull away, lips turning down into a frown. “That’s not what we want. We don’t play with people. People aren’t toys to us. And we’ve never had sex with anyone else like this. You should know that from the videos.”

“Aye,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to offend yeh, lass. I was only teasing.”

“Johnny…”

“Yes?”

“Why’d you go away?” you ask. You know it might ruin the moment, but the curiosity is too much, an old wound with the scab picked clean off until it aches all over again. “Things seemed so good when Simon and I first got together. You were coming around all the time. Then you just…left.”

Johnny can’t meet your eyes as he thinks back, as he remembers those days in the year after Simon first met you. When he speaks, his voice is steady. “I told yeh earlier. Couldn’t stop thinking about the two of you. Didn’t feel right to feel that way ‘bout my best mate and his best girl. And when he told me that he was gonna propose to yeh—I had two choices. Stay and watch, or run away. Maybe Simon’s right. Maybe I am a coward.”

“He told me that the two of you almost kissed once. Back during your SAS days.”

A ghost of a smile appears on Johnny’s mouth. “Outside the Barranquilla, Columbia safehouse. I remember. I thought he would break my teeth if I tried, but Jesus, how I wanted to.”

“I think your odds were 50/50,” you say, scooting back until you are seated in Simon’s old spot, reclining against the headboard. “It started back then for you, didn’t it?”

“Aye. I was a goner.”

“You love him.”

Johnny gives you a secretive smile. He presses his finger to his lips. Shh.

Simon enters the room with three water bottles and pauses, eyes flickering between you both. “The fuck were you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” you say. “Is that water? I’m so thirsty, thank you baby.”

“Her subtlety could use some work, LT,” Johnny says, watching as Simon goes and turns the camera back on. You hastily put your mask back in place.

“Not her forte,” Simon admits dryly. He cracks open one of the bottles of water after tossing the last one to Johnny and drinks half of it in just a few gulps, despite having done very little so far in the scheme of things. You figured that was about to change, watching him shrug out of his shirt.

Simon didn’t undress the way Johnny did. There wasn’t any fanfare or confidence; it was simple and efficient. You knew that Simon’s relationship with his body was a complex one. It had served him well, and he did his best to keep it healthy, but contemplating the aesthetics of it was too offensive to his palate. The scars were intense: thick punctures along his sides, the depressed, pale pucker of bullet wounds, the hard clean lines of a knife here and there. You had never minded, and judging by the way Johnny’s throat clicks when he swallows, Johnny didn’t mind either.

“I want to fuck you,” he says.

“Yes,” you agree. Fingers had been excellent, but nothing could compare to Simon’s cock.

He shakes his head. “Not you. Him.”

You turn your gaze on Johnny whose eyes are avidly watching Simon unfasten his jeans. He pushes them down over his thick thighs and reveals he’s not wearing any underwear beneath, his cock half-hard and rosy. He wraps his fist around it, jerking himself to full stiffness with a perfunctory touch, not at all interested in the show he is putting on for you both.

“Can you take him, Johnny?” you tease.

“I’ll die trying, thanks very much.”

“I hope not,” is all Simon says, going to the bench at the end of the bed and retrieving the lube. He asks: “Condom?”

“Not necessary,” Johnny says, breaths coming faster now. You put your hand on his ankle, remembering the way he had touched you there on Christmas, stroking the bone softly. He glances to you and grins, and you see that what you mistook for nerves is actually excitement. He puts his hand over your own, squeezing. “Are you going to feel left out, lass?”

“Terribly.”

“If you last the whole time,” says Simon, holding the lube up to the light to see how empty it is. “I’ll let you fuck her when I’m finished with you.”

“Jesus,” Johnny laughs weakly. “Can’t argue with that. Throw me that and I’ll get myself ready.”

“I can do it,” says Simon, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Johnny shifts into a better position, feet flat on the bed, knees toward the ceiling. For a long time, Simon just looks at him: his silly hair, the odd scar here and there, his half hard cock. Deftly, he opens the cap on the lube and slicks two fingers while you come to kneel on the other side of Johnny, eager for a show.

“Camera, love,” Simon reminds you, fingers searching between Johnny’s legs. Judging by the way Johnny’s jaw goes tight, he’s found what he’s looking for. You shift, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you are out of the camera’s point of view. Reaching down, you trail your fingertips gently over Johnny’s cock. Simon says: “Been a while?”

“You could say that,” Johnny says, mouth falling open in a silent moan as Simon works him open. You’ve been on the receiving end of Simon’s ministrations; you know his patience can be near painful. Johnny learns it the hard way when Simon pauses twice to lube his fingers, until even the soft thrusts he gives into Johnny’s ass fill the room with the sound of sex.

You play with his cock absently, enjoying being the tormentor instead of the tormented for once. Johnny’s silent breaths turn to heavy pants and then needy groans, foreskin pulling back to reveal the sensitive head as he grows in your palm thanks to Simon’s fingers playing inside him. His heels slip against the bedspread as he searches for the angles that suit him best, and he chokes when he finds them.

“Please, I’m ready,” Johnny says, fingers wrapping around Simon’s wrist. Simon lets him pull his fingers free and reaches for the lube again, this time to slick his cock.

“Any preference for how I take you?” he asks mildly, like one might ask, How do you take your tea? One sugar please and thank you.

“None, so long as your cock’s inside me,” Johnny grits out.

“This’ll do,” says Simon, bullying his way between Johnny’s spread thighs. It takes a few pillows beneath his hips before he’s at the right height for Simon’s cock to notch against his entrance, and then you watch with rapt attention as Johnny’s body seems to blossom to welcome in Simon’s cock, a surplus of lubricant easing the way.

Johnny flinches.

“Easy,” says Simon, stilling. “Relax.”

You curl up at Johnny’s side, slipping beneath one of his arms and cuddling against him. Your nervous fingers find one of his nipples and toy with it softly, kissing at his shoulder while you murmur words of encouragement to him.

Johnny laughs weakly. “Don’t need all that, lass, but thank yeh.”

“Wish I had someone cheering me on the first time I took Simon’s cock,” you admit.

Simon frowns. “I was cheering you on.”

“Less talking please, more fucking,” Johnny says, lips upturned. His body relaxes and Simon sinks the rest of the way inside him, all the way to the fucking hilt, deeper than you can ever take him in your cunt. It thrills you and makes you envious all at once. You pinch Johnny’s nipple, forcing a quiet gasp out of his throat.

Simon looks good—strong. Unaffected. But you know him better. His brow is lower than ever, eyes closed as he centers himself. His breaths come so evenly that you know he must be counting them—four seconds in, four seconds out. His fingertips have sunk into the meat of Johnny’s thighs, gripping him tightly, as if to keep him from squirming away, or to keep him from squirming at all.

“You solid?” Simon asks him.

“Affirm,” Johnny breathes. “Go slow.”

Famous last words—Simon withdraws with painstaking care, until just his head lingers inside Johnny’s body. He sinks back in at the most leisurely pace you’ve ever seen, thrusts smooth and deep as his thighs brush against Johnny’s ass. It takes no time at all for Johnny to regret those words, one of his hands laced with yours and the other twisting in the bedsheets as he begs Simon to move faster.

And Simon can only take so much teasing himself, really. He’s human too.

His hips snap into the open cradle of Johnny’s thighs. Johnny cries out, cock jerking where it lays hard and leaking against his belly. You lean up onto one elbow so that you can watch his pretty face contort: brow furrowing, mouth falling open.

“Not going to cum, right?” you ask him slyly.

He shakes his head.

You glance down at his cock doubtfully. Simon, overhearing your words, takes that as a personal challenge, drilling into Johnny with a single-mindedness that is admirable to see and terrible to be on the receiving end of all in one.

Suddenly tears overflow from Johnny’s eyes, dripping down toward his temples. You sit up in alarm as he lifts his hands but he just palms at his eyes, laughing. Simon slows, stops. He reaches down to pry Johnny’s hands away and then kisses him, something soft and sweet. Johnny’s hands shake as he reaches up to thread his fingers through Simon’s hair, tugging him closer.

Your heart feels liable to burst. You remember Johnny’s finger pressed to his lips, that universal sign. Shh.

“He’s alright,” Simon says, not unkindly. “Aren’t you?”

Johnny croaks an affirmative.

After that, it is less fucking and more making love; there’s nothing else to call in. Simon pins Johnny’s wrists to the bed just to feel like he’s still in control, but his thrusts are syrupy slow, not fully withdrawing, seeking to remain as close to Johnny as he can for as long as possible. You stroke one of Johnny’s palms and Simon lets it free so that you can hold it, your fingers lacing together in a way that is foreign yes, but comfortable.

“You’ve been a good boy for me, Johnny,” Simon says.

“Don’t say that,” Johnny groans, turning his head away, flushed pink.

“It’s true. Know how to be an even better boy?”

Johnny is intrigued. Being a good boy is suddenly beneath him; now he wants to be the best boy. Looking at Simon through his lashes, he asks: “How’s that?”

“Cum on my cock.”

“Don’t do it Johnny,” you whine. “It’s a trap.”

Simon laughs. He kneels back onto his haunches, dragging Johnny’s body along with him, and reaches for the other man’s cock, working it over in his fist. Johnny nearly howls, kept on the edge so long that to see the bottom of the cliffside is to know the promise of pain. He doesn’t know whether to grind his hips deeper against Simon’s cock or to chase the heat of his hand.

“Close,” he groans.

“Go on. Pretty abs like this—make a mess on ‘em.”

Johnny does, pearlescent seed dripping from between Simon’s fingers as he milks Johnny for every last drop. Only then does he begin thrusting again, fast and hard, searching for his own end. Not a handful of thrusts later and he goes sloppy, breath punched from his lungs as he spills inside Johnny.

“You promised me a cock to ride,” you say.

“Couldn’t be helped, lass,” Johnny says with a dopey, lovesick smile. You hum.

“We’ll just have to get you hard again, won’t we?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his softening cock.

That night, the bed is full. Johnny and you are entwined, legs and arms wrapped around each other creating an endless feedback of heat that Simon was careful not to be swept away in, too focused on his mission to allow for any mistakes. He makes no sound as he slips out of bed. He stops by the tripod in the corner and takes his phone out into the living room, turning the sound down so low that he has to hold the speaker close to his ear to hear it, lest he wake Johnny.

He listens to you and Johnny talk while he was gone, when you believed the camera to be off. He plays it again, watching just the video. By the time he’s returned in the video, Simon’s chest feels full of pressure, like something is inside him trying to crawl its way out. Love. What does Simon Riley know about love?

Well, he knows one thing.

Except maybe now he knows two.

He deletes the video and goes back to bed.

#ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #complicated pleasures #simon riley x reader

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jimvasta · 4 months

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Humans and their pets

The sentient races of the universe have just about started to get their heads, or approximate similar in function body parts, around the odd nature of humans but only recently have humans begun to bring other Earth creatures into space with them.

“Don't worry about Fluffy, he's totally ship trained.” the human designated Bradley spoke with frightening casualness about the creature sat at his side. It's muzzle was level with his hips and it's forward facing eyes showed it had predator history just as much as humans did.

“It has fangs.” Captain Mota'tog was unimpressed. The permissions were correctly stamped on the file and yet such a creature hardly appeared inoffensive.

“He does not, he's not poisonous. Of course some of his teeth are sharp, he's an omnivore.”

“He's a hunter.”

“He mostly hunts biscuits. He'll scavenge in the canteen from anyone soft enough to feed him. He's a certified well-being dog. People stroke him, he's got really soft fur, it makes them feel better. Look, he's wagging his tail, it means he likes you.”

Mota-tog whistled uncertainly.

“Oh wow!” One of the human engineers arrived at the airlock and dropped her bag as she stared at the dog. “So cute!”

Fluffy jumped round, tail wagging furiously, nuzzling in as the woman buried her hands in his warm soft fur.

“You are totally gorgeous. You're so fluffy and beautiful, you're like a little polar bear. You're here to stay, yes you are.” the woman happily baby talked to the dog who was more than half her size.

Bradley looked at the Captain and indicated. “See. Dogs make us happy.”

“You do all the care for it.”

“Of course.”

There were some false starts with the rest of the crew who were not so trusting of the huge pack hunter in their midst, but over the next few months they slowly learned to trust that the worst he would do was beg for food off their plates at meal times. Some of the braver aliens even began to pet him.

Then an alarm sounded.

Everyone raced to their emergency stations.

Bradley was in the cargo hold, his duty was to check the cargo was safe and secure.

He had quickly trained Fluffy to sit in a corner out of the way. It kept him safe in case anything shifted. The last thing he wanted was for his pet to get hurt by moving cargo.

The clang of magnetic grabs was deafening.

The alert was for a boarding raid.

Pirates.

Bradley cracked his knuckles and picked up a pry bar.

Through the rest of the ship there were varying degrees of panic.

A few of the other species could fight but most looked to the humans, having learned the way they fought when cornered and knowing their best hope to survive was to stay back and wait for the screaming to stop.

“What the fuck is that?!” the shout was shock and outrage. More anger than fear in the moment.

Crouching as it came through the main airlock was a creature taller and broader than anything else on the ship.

“Star spirits preserve us,” Mota'tog whistled. “A Batath.”

“It's a bloody troll is what it is.” Martins snapped.

Everyone froze as they heard the snarling and growling.

It was not coming from the Batath.

Fluffy arrived at speed and leapt, not caring can his opponent was huge. His fur was already matted with the blood of pirates and this was just another opponent.

The humans charged.

The Batath could only concentrate on one enemy at a time, it was used to picking off creatures as they ran, not fighting them off as something had its teeth deep around a knee trying to rip it apart.

The pirates ran when the Batath fell and the gore covered humans turned to face them.

Bradley let himself drop to the deck. “Don't worry, I'm fine. Good boy, Fluffy.”

Mota'tog shook his feathers as he watched the dog go back from snarling killing machine to placid fuss receiver. “I swear to the spirits, all Earth creatures are insane.”

#humans are space orcs #writers on tumblr #haso #writers #all the creatures of Earth are crazy #humans are deathworlders

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pucksandpower · 7 months

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Sleepyhead

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: sometimes race weekends can be so tiring that words escape you, but that has never been a problem for your doting boyfriend

Based on this request

You walk down the paddock path, utterly exhausted after a long day at the track. Your eyelids feel like lead weights and you can barely put one foot in front of the other. Charles has his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, practically carrying your limp body as you lean into him for support.

“Tired, mon petit chou?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You just let out a little grunt in response, too drained to even form words.

As you round the corner, Logan Sargeant spots the two of you and rushes over with a big grin. “Hey guys! How’s it going?”

Charles gives him a polite smile. “Hello, mate. We’re doing well, just a bit tired after such a busy day.”

Logan turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N? Are you okay? You look kind of … mad or something.”

You blink slowly at him, your brain taking its time to process his words. Mad? Why would you be mad? You just shake your head minutely, rubbing your cheek against Charles’ shoulder.

“Oh no, she’s not angry,” Charles explains with a little chuckle. “This is just how she gets when she’s really tired. She goes all quiet and doesn’t speak. Her body language is the only way to read her moods then.”

“Yeah, and right now she’s giving off major sleepy kitten vibes,” Oscar’s voice chimes in as he joins the little group with Lando beside him. “Lando gets the exact same way when he’s exhausted. He turns into a limp noodle that I have to carry around.”

Lando huffs indignantly. “Hey! I do not!”

“Yes you do,” Oscar laughs. “Remember that time in Monza last year? You were falling asleep on your feet after the race.”

Lando rolls his eyes but a fond smile tugs at his lips. “Okay fine, maybe I do. But only sometimes!”

You let their playful banter wash over you, your heavy eyelids sliding shut as you nestle further into Charles’ embrace. You feel so safe and comforted in his arms, his solid warmth enveloping you.

“Alright, I think it’s time we got you back to the hotel for some rest,” Charles murmurs, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Say goodnight to the boys.”

You manage a tiny wave at Logan, Oscar, and Lando before allowing Charles to steer you down the paddock towards the exit. His hand runs up and down your back soothingly.

“Goodnight you two! Get some sleep!” Oscar calls after you.

Once you reach the car, Charles helps you into the passenger seat, buckling you in gently before jogging around to the driver’s side. You’re asleep before he even starts the engine, finally giving in to the exhaustion weighing you down.

The sound of a car door opening rouses you from your slumber sometime later. You slowly blink your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. Charles’ hand is tenderly stroking your cheek.

“Mon amour, we’re at the hotel. Let’s get you up to our room, hmm?”

You nod drowsily, allowing him to unbuckle you and help you out of the car. He pulls you into his side, one arm securely around your waist as you walk unsteadily towards the hotel entrance. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover what you feel for this man by your side.

Once in the elevator, Charles shifts to face you fully, those warm green eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You did so well today. I’m so proud of you for working so hard. Let’s get you nice and warm in bed now.”

You give him a tired little smile, nuzzling your face against his chest. He chuckles softly, squeezing you tighter.

Eventually you make it to the hotel room, Charles guiding you straight to the plush king bed. He helps you out of your clothes until you’re down to your underwear, then pulls back the covers for you to slip between the soft sheets. A happy sigh slips from your lips when your head hits the pillow. Charles presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Sleep well, mon cœur. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he whispers, laying down beside you.

You immediately curl into his side, draping an arm over his stomach as you burrow your face into the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, making you feel so small yet so incredibly cherished. With Charles holding you snugly against his chest, you drift off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

When consciousness returns, the first thing that registers is the solid warmth of Charles’ body pressed against yours. His leg is hooked over yours, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. There’s a pleasant ache to your limbs, the satisfying kind that comes from a good rest after a long day. You shift slightly, causing Charles to stir awake.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” he murmurs, his sexy morning voice making butterflies flutter in your stomach. You tilt your head up to meet his sleepy but adoring gaze, suddenly drowning in those green pools. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Good morning,” you whisper back, rubbing your nose against his.

Charles breaks into a dazzling grin, capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss that steals your breath away. When he pulls back, he cups your cheek tenderly.

“Did you sleep well? Feeling more rested now?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, smiling lazily. “Sleeping in your arms is the best.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I couldn’t agree more. I love holding you close like this.”

Your heart swells three sizes as he gazes at you with such naked affection. This man loves you so fiercely, so completely. You can see it in his every look, his every touch. He treasures you in a way you never thought possible. Feeling brave, you let the words sitting heavily on your tongue finally slip out.

“Je t’aime, Charles … mon amour.”

His smile turns blinding, happier than you’ve ever seen it. “I love you too, with all my heart,” he breathes, pulling you in for another lingering kiss.

You melt into the embrace, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you feel for this incredible man into the kiss. Nothing has ever felt so right, so perfect than being here in his arms. As Charles strokes your cheek and deepens the kiss, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll always feel safe, cherished, and deeply loved by this extraordinary man.

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caitlinsclark · 2 months

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LOVE TRICYCLE ¹ caitlin clark 𝘤𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | summary: kate becomes an accidental matchmaker and honorary third wheel. based on this request. wc: 2.3k PART TWO masterlist and tag list

“Who on the team are you not letting date your son or daughter?” The question was posed by Tiffany, asked loudly from the back of the bus. The team was traveling to Chicago for a game and the bus had taken to doing a fun trend to pass time.

Tiffany had her phone out, recording the interaction to post to her instagram story. You lifted your head thoughtfully, pondering her question.

A’ja, from the seat across from you immediately answers, “Y/N.” Without looking up from her phone as if she were speaking fact.

You look into the lens of the camera wordlessly, smirking deviously and shrugging your shoulders. You couldn’t blame her.

When Tiffany pushed the camera in your face for an answer, you glanced over at Kate, the newest baby of the team. She immediately began pouting, a red hue going to her face at the attention, “Don’t look at me!” Her voice whined and you reached over to pinch her reddening cheeks.

You laughed at the sight of her reaction, massaging her shoulders lovingly, “Look at that face!” You instead used your hands to cup her cheeks, presenting it to the camera as both of your laughs echoed, “This is the face that haunts over protective middle aged fathers everywhere.”

Kate looked at you adoringly, a sickly sweet smile forming as you continued playing with her face. You and Kate were the two most recently drafted players on the Aces, with her in ’24 and you in ’23, and had formed a bond that strayed from the professional team dynamics.

“I promise, my type is more the MILFs,” Kate fluttered her eyelashes dramatically at you, a more flirty tone dripping off. Her lips expanded into a goofy grin, practically gushing her usual charisma.

You turned to the camera with a deadpan expression, as you squished her face, “See? My protective father is somewhere crying and throwing up in a corner right now. She’s trying to talk me out of my pants.”

The two of you broke into fits of giggling, the happiness radiating within the team’s bus as you got closer to your game destination. You decided to get cozy, leaning back into your seat and dropping your head onto Kate’s shoulder.

With a heartwarming amount of care, Kate gently laid her blankie over your front to keep you warm. When she received a call a moment later, her free hand moved and grabbed her phone. The blonde immediately pressed accept on the call coming in from Caitlin.

“Hey, CC!”

You smiled at the excitement sprouting in Kate’s voice at name but kept your eyes closed to give them their moment.

“There’s just a,” Kate spoke the next word with emphasis to tease you, “child sleeping on me.”

“You’re still the baby, rook,” You mumbled with little care as you got more comfortable. Your arm hooked through hers, focused on achieving maximum comfort. She patted your head and moved the camera to show your relaxed face to Caitlin.

A gasp rang through the speaker, which caught your interest and you opened your eyes to see none other than Caitlin Clark occupying the screen so close to your face. And you saw an opportunity.

“You’re so pretty up close,” The words came out smooth and soft, head still laying on its spot on Kate’s shoulder. You didn’t make any attempt too push away the camera. Her hair was straightened and splayed against her shoulders, framing her pretty face. Caitlin was a little taken off guard but quick to accept it and match your energy, “I think to be safe you’d have to test that theory in person.”

Kate made a face, eyes shifting between the two girls wearing similar flirtatious grins. It wasn’t long though until they had turned the attention back to Kate.

“Wait!” There was a hint of betrayal in Caitlin’s voice, “Did you give her your blankie?” Her jaw was slack, drawing your attention to her lips. Yup, that was the reason you were going with.

You cuddled into the fabric, allowing your ego to float a little, “Are you jealous, Clark?” A teasing tone laced your words as they traveled through the speaker.

Caitlin wondered if you sounded as sweet in person, because the phone must not be doing you full justice.

“Of the blanket? Yes.” She winked at you and her eyes fluttered as they scanned over your face. You chuckled and turned your head so the blanket would cover your warming cheeks. Kate used her arm to nudge you, a silent moment shared as you two exchanged a very telling look. You winked at her and closed your eyes, pretending to choose sleep. If you stayed up a little longer to hear Caitlin’s voice, no one had to know.

When you arrived at the hotel, you stretched and let out a little yawn, folding the blanket carefully and handing it back to Kate.

“Where did you get that? It’s so soft,” You made a passing comment as you grabbed your bags, helping her get hers as well. Kate started to laugh softly, feeling a little kiddish.

“I’ve had it since I was a kid,” She started to blush just from saying it, “and no, I’m not telling you its name!” The blonde started to shy away from you, the two of you sharing a laugh at her admission.

“It has a name!” The words were giddy and full of curiosity and she refused to indulge it.

But as a prime opportunist, you smiled smugly to yourself and reached to grab your phone. Get dirt on Kate and have a way into Caitlin’s DMs? Opening your Instagram app, it wasn’t too hard to find Caitlin’s profile and send an urgent message.

‘I need insider info about the name of Kate’s blankie. I knew you were the girl who could help me.’

It was only a few minutes of staring at your phone til her username lit up on your screen.

‘Information isn’t free :/‘ and you grinned, that sounded like an invitation.

The next time you got to talk to Caitlin is after an intense 1v1 with Kate. Your teammates watched, invested from the sidelines at the two of you battling it out.

“Don’t choke, rook,” You advised, dribbling the ball between your legs as you approached the hoop. You faked going right before spinning and taking the shot from the left.

“Damn, rookie on rookie crime,” One of the girls called out when you hit the ground, fouled a little too aggressively by Kate. She immediately kneeled down to offer you a hand as you milked out the injury. With a dramatic clutch to your ankle, you rolled over and played dead.

There was a few beats where you continued the act til you peaked one eye open and saw Kate’s unimpressed expression. Taking her hand to get up, you patted her shoulder in forgiveness when she checked to see if you were okay.

In the end, she had beaten you with a close score and the two of you relaxed on the sidelines as the next pair began to face off. You were eager to chug a few gulps of your drink, ignorant to the FaceTime call that Kate had accepted beside you.

“First I had to be jealous of a blanket, now a water bottle.” The words made you choke, and cough up the water in your mouth. You patted your chest and shook off Kate’s concerned look. The Caitlin Clark effect, truly.

It seemed cruel how quick Caitlin was to fire back at you again, “Not how I envisioned the first time you did that.” There wasn’t a moment to recover, but two could play at that game.

You bit your lip, taking the phone from Kate with an overdramatic twirl of your hair, “So what were you envisioning?” Kate rolled her eyes and pushed your head out of frame before taking her phone back.

“I just beat this loser at a one on one.” Kate stuck out her tongue cockily, rubbing her victory in your face.

With a nonchalant look, you rolled your eyes, “I won, but okay.” You winked at Caitlin over the phone, whose lips tilted up at the action. You definitely took a lingering second to appreciate that.

“She’s lying,” Kate exclaimed with dramatic emphasis on the second word, “to you, CC!” Her face morphed into disbelief at your dismissal.

“Would I lie to your pretty face, Caitlin?” You practically purred as you turned the phone toward your face and it had the brunette blushing behind the screen. Kate interrupted to pull the camera back to her.

“Yes! She only wants to impress you, Cait.” The blonde argued with a grin on her face, poking your side to get you to break. It didn’t take much for you to start laughing.

“I might be lying to impress you.” You shrugged shamelessly, raising your eyebrows at the look Kate gave you at the way you immediately backed down.

With a large grin, Caitlin shook her head as if the statement was insane, “I’d be impressed with you either way.”

Kate tapped her fingers on her lips, quietly muttering, “Okay, so my 35 points mean nothing.” You turned your head over to her, grinning when you made eye contact with your friend.

“Awww, no you did so good, rook.” You praised with your arm wrapping around her shoulders and a tilt of your head to rest on her shoulder.

Caitlin grinned from the phone, heart warming at the scene between both of you.

When goodbye’s were said to resume practice, Kate stared at you with a smug expression that seemed to read into your soul.

“What?” You questioned defensively, scratching at your arm under her intense gaze. Though you could tell it was flooded with underlying amusement.

She sighed like an inconvenience, “Is this what it’s going to be like now?” And when you don’t answer right away she continues teasingly, “You two are sickeningly adorable.”

“And you’re our little third wheel,” You squeezed her tightly, putting your cheek to her head, “That’s what makes it a tricycle!” You wiggled your eyebrows and giggled when she pushed you away.

The next time you talked to Caitlin was a pleasant shock to both of you, as if she wasn’t the one to press your contact. She wasn’t entirely expecting you to answer. The Aces had an uncharacteristically bad game, letting too loose on their defense and it was noticed by the TV announcers in your hotel room.

Kate had gone to her own room in favor of you both going over film and trying to correct the rough loss. You felt particularly defeated as you rubbed the side of your bruised hip.

As you went to grab an ice pack, you were annoyed to hear your phone ring with the FaceTime tone. With a sigh, you answered the call and waited for Caitlin’s face to appear on the phone.

“Hi, gorgeous.” She greeted with her usual charisma, a dazzling smile on that was slowly coaxing a similar happiness out of you.

But your voice was small and quiet, something she expected after a loss, “Hi, Cait.”

She glanced at the ice pack in your grasp and frowned at the bruising skin underneath.

She wasted no time in asserting the reason why she called, “Are you okay?” But that wasn’t enough to show her care, so she continued, “I saw the way you went down. Fuck those refs, that was intentional.” The frustration you caught in her words seemed to rival the one you personally had earlier, and it was your game.

You set your phone down to adjust the updo your hair was held in. Caitlin watched, mesmerized by the simplest of tasks as you placed the hair tie in between your teeth.

She was trying to ignore the way your tongue poked out of your cheek when you caught on to her disorientation.

With an urgency to change the topic and play it off, you continued, “Careful, you’re sounding a little obsessed, Clark.” The playful grin that Caitlin had gotten accustomed to graced your face. But she didn’t like that her genuine care seemed to be written off as a joke this time.

“I’m worried about you,” Caitlin furrowed her eyebrows, beginning to get passionate about the subject, “You’re a lot more than Kate’s teammate to me now, you know that, right?” The sudden seriousness of her words sobered you up and the goofy look wiped from your face.

“You’re a lot more than that to me too.” You whispered, letting the deeper meaning go unsaid. And by the soft look she sent you, you knew she got the message.

At the reassurance that she wasn’t just imaging the energy between you two, Caitlin seemed to perk up significantly. Cute. It was the human equivalent of a dog wagging their tail after getting a treat.

“Guess I’ll just need a little motivation in the crowd to do better next time.” You pretended like you were being slick, like you weren’t asking her to make a sacrifice to come to your game.

“And of course, for Kate too,” The words came seconds after, a clear attempt to play off the buzzing tension building up.

A genuine laugh left Caitlin’s chest and you beamed at the sound, “I think I’d be able to do that.” She mimicked your causality, but the giddy grins you shared were anything but casual.

And with that, you both hung up the phone. Caitlin leaned back on her couch with a dreamy sigh, finger hovering over Kate’s contact to gush about the overwhelming excitement you brought on.

In your own hotel room, you had the same idea and ran over to Kate’s hotel room. Kate from inside her room panicked at the double intrusion, knowing this was only the beginning of this love tricycle.

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #wnba basketball #basketball #caitlin clark x fem!reader #caitlin clark x y/n #wbb x reader #wnba #caitlin clark fic #indiana fever #las vegas aces #kate martin #kate martin x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 3 months

Text

Warnings: Just some cute and domestic fluff.

Hearing the beeping smoke alarm just regulating. The quiet of the trailer. Even the occasional chirp of the bird Wayne got as a gift from you. He loves birds and bird watching, nowadays. When you wake up, Eddie is asleep, his scarred, bare back at your disposal, sheets pulled around his trim waistline, barely covering his unclothed ass. He’s not the lightest sleeper, so you simply slide out of bed, working your panties back on from last night, a discarded baggy shirt with holes you’d left here, and grab your bath robe off his corner chair. One last look at the messy haired boy in your shared bed, you can’t believe that you’re in this moment with him - so lucky, so happy.

The realization that you’re still a little unsteady on your feet from previous activities, it has you gripping the panel walls. The soft hum of the set has you smiling as you approach the kitchen, Wayne bent over the couch trying to pack a few things in his camp duffel. There’s freshly brewed coffee that you inhale, and Shiner (the bird) makes note of your presence. Your tap a finger at his cage.

“Good mornin’, kiddo. Did I wake you guys?” Wayne manages a smile, and you shake your head.

“Good morning. And no, you didn’t.” You motion towards his bag. “You leaving for a bit?”

It’s so cute how bashful he is. He motions towards the weather report through a haze of colors on the little set. You nod. “Gonna be a stormy day, so thought I’d take my lady fishin’ for a bit. Stay at hers, get some rest before the drive out. She’s makin’ us a picnic.”

You really wanna bottle this man up and keep him safe, because he’s practically glowing right now.

“Did you get breakfast? I can have an omelet and some bacon for in a few minutes.” You place your mug down after several passing moments.

He zips up his bag and shakes his head at you fondly. “Actually, I did. Picked up some McDonald’s after my shift. Left your’s and Ed’s shares in the oven to keep warm. Should be all right still.”

You marvel, thanking him, moving to swiftly kiss his cheek as he zips his bag closed, patting his pockets for a double check. You’re retrieving the food by the time he’s stepping out the door.

“Love ya, sweetheart. Tell my boy I said love him too. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“Love you, Wayne. Be safe, okay? Tell Ms. Henderson we say hello. Let Dustin know Eds will call him a little later for tonight’s match, if you don’t mind?”

~*~

He has woken up, scratching his belly and rubbing his massive, curly bed head, clad in his sweats and a shirt by the time you have the food plated. You pretend you don’t hear him, distracted by task. His soft, spicy scent and the smell of you clings to his skin as he approaches your backside, sliding his arms around you, chin pressing into your shoulder. “You left me in a mountain of sheets. I was lost without you, empress.”

“I think you faired well on your corridor travels, my King.” You turn in his arms to see that cheeky grin.

Both of you automatically lean in to meet mouths, that fresh desperation and desire never failing to excel its presence. “Hey, baby.” You greet in between kisses, his hands squeezing your waist through the fluffy fabric.

On the noisy breakaway, he leaves a few more clicks to your lips, accepting the plate you offer him and the coffee, making a move towards the couch as you join. “Did Wayne have an over?” He tucks a sweat clad length beneath him, one of your borrowed shirts hanging from his slender form.

“Overnight date with Dustin’s momma.”

Eddie just grins, but then he does that face (the one where he knows he’s forgotten something, and attempts to tackle the misplaced thought). You catch on quickly. “Told him to tell Dustin to call later for your meeting details. It’s supposed to storm all day.”

He takes a bit of his sausage breakfast roll, wiggling his brows. “Good. Mother Nature providing the master with her sound effects.”

“And…” he starts with another add on. “Gives us a lot of time to ourselves, sweetheart.”

You simply bury yourself into his neck, listening to his raspy chuckle, and finish your breakfast after Eddie has changed the weather to an old movie channel. You shower first whilst Eddie tidies up the place and puts on clean bedclothes, and he showers after, giving you time to put away the rest of the laundry. He doesn’t waste a second after coming out, not even a towel on. He finds you, already waiting, that sensed, shared energy — encouraged by a summer storm. He lays you down in his bed and you don’t leave until evening… reluctantly.

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leahsgf · 9 months

Note

Looove Lucy taking care of reader.

Could I have more? Maybe Lucy is the worried older sister who makes sure reader doesn't get separated from the group when they go out, or that she ends up spending her money on too many sweets. Thanks <3

REINS - lucy bronze

lucy bronze x sister!reader

pure fluff about lucy being an overprotective older sister to you

her role as your big sister was one that lucy arguably took the most pride in out of all of her duties in her life - and that had always been the case, even back in the days when she was a teenager, and would often forgo going out with her friends in order to play and spend time with you.

even when it meant clinging onto the reins that were attached to your backpack to prevent you from running off for dear life in worry as you toddled around giggling - finding it hilarious.

the pair of you had always been inseparable, and all you had ever wanted to be was like her, having decided the instant you were able to grasp the concept of her job - that you were going to be a footballer too.

so that’s exactly what you did, and lucy’s protectiveness over you only increased as you did so, especially when you received your first call up to the lionesses alongside her.

you were more than a decade younger than her, freshly faced and new to every part of what you were experiencing - being the youngest on the squad by a considerable amount, meaning that lucy worried about you constantly, even more than usual, and watched over you like a hawk.

a team day out exploring the city in a country you’d never been to before had the older girl as pale as a sheet just thinking about all of the different possibilities.

“stay with me - or one of the girls at all time, okay? please be careful. if anyone, and i mean anyone tries anything or makes you uncomfortable in any way you need to tell me immediately. this is a new place to us all so just be extra war-” you cut off her rambling before she talked herself to death, playfully rolling your eyes, insides secretly warming at how much she cared for you.

“luce, it’s okay. i know. i won’t wander off. i’m a big girl”

“okay.” she breathes, giving up on the remainder of her speech, instead settling for “i just remember you being so tiny you could fit in one of my hands like it was yesterday, and i just want you to be safe.”

“i promise. i’ll be fine.” you linked pinkies with her, knowing you’d be glued to her side regardless.

“don’t make me get the reins back out. i remember how much of a menace you were, running off all over the place!”

she pointed at you warningly, and if it weren’t for the stern expression across her features you would’ve laughed.

“that was when i was three!”

“i’m just saying! the threat remains!”

no matter how old you got, or how far you progressed in your career, lucy still would refuse to let you pay for anything, slipping you money with a wink and a finger held to her lips, like you were six again and giggling behind your parents back.

“you’re my baby sister, don’t be silly. absolutely not.” she would insist, playfully slapping your hand away as you reached for your purse, sticking a pile of notes or in its place.

“make sure you don’t spend it all at once, kay? i expect to see some change when you come out!” she called after you as you were pulled into the sweet shop by ella and alessia, who’s playful grins told lucy that she’d be very unlikely to see you return with any money to spare.

not that it mattered in the slightest really, she just loved teasing you and treasured looking after you, not quite ready to give it up, it being one of her favourite parts of her life, even when you were nearing being an adult yourself.

tried to fit in everything that you requested! thank you for it i enjoyed writing it - and happy new year!

not proof read so i apologise if there’s any mistakes

#lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #lionesses x reader #lionesses #alessia russo x reader #ella toone x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine

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elryuse · 2 months

Text

It Should Be Me

Yandere Yooyeon Triples X Male Reader

Requested by my dear friend on discord. Hope you like it bruh.

I can't remember a time when Yooyeon wasn't there. We were practically attached at the hip from preschool. She was always the older, wiser one, even if by a year. I remember her pulling me away from a particularly nasty sandbox fight, her small hand gripping mine with surprising strength.

"Don't fight, Y/n," she'd said, her voice firm for someone so young. "It's not nice."

I pouted, but I listened. There was something about the way she looked at me, with that intense focus, that made me feel safe.

As we grew older, our bond deepened. We'd spend hours lost in our own world, building forts in the woods behind my house, sharing secrets, and dreaming about the future. Yooyeon was my confidante, my protector, and my best friend.

Then Nakyoung came along. She was a whirlwind, a burst of sunshine that lit up every room. I was drawn to her energy, her laughter. It was like she brought color into my world. I remember the day she confessed her feelings for me, under the old oak tree in the park. My heart pounded in my chest as she poured her heart out. It was overwhelming, but there was something about her sincerity that made me realize I felt the same way.

We started dating, and it was like a dream. Nakyoung was everything I could have asked for in a girlfriend. She was smart, funny, and incredibly supportive. We spent countless hours together, holding hands, sharing secrets, and making plans for the future.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, there was always Yooyeon. She'd been there for me through everything, and I cared about her deeply. But our relationship had changed. The closeness we once shared had drifted apart. She seemed quieter, more withdrawn.

Now in high school, with Nakyoung by my side, I tried to ignore the growing distance between Yooyeon and me. It was like she was watching from the sidelines, a silent observer of our happiness. Sometimes, I'd catch her looking at me with a longing that made me uncomfortable.

I pushed those feelings aside. After all, Yooyeon was my best friend, and I trusted her completely. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Yooyeon was changing, and I didn't know how to help her.

Little did I know, the darkness that was creeping into Yooyeon's heart would soon consume her, and our lives would be irrevocably changed.

The cafeteria was a cacophony of noise, a sea of students jostling for space and food. Nakyoung was perched on my lap, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck as she giggled into my ear. Her laughter was like a warm sunbeam, chasing away the shadows of my worries.

"You're such a dork, Y/n," she teased, her breath tickling my skin. I grinned, squeezing her a little tighter.

"Only for you, princess," I replied, my voice muffled by her hair.

Just as I was about to steal a kiss, a crash echoed through the cafeteria. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to see Yooyeon standing there, her face flushed with embarrassment. A tray of food lay shattered on the floor, the remnants of Nakyoung's lunch scattered everywhere.

Nakyoung's smile vanished, replaced by a scowl. "WTF!!! Watch where you're going, idiot!" she snapped, her voice sharp.

Yooyeon's eyes widened in shock. "I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

A wave of anger washed over me. It wasn't Yooyeon's fault. Accidents happen. I reached out to take Nakyoung's hand, trying to calm her down. "It's okay, Nakyoung," I said softly. "It was an accident."

But she was beyond reason. Her anger was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. "Don't defend her," she hissed, her eyes flashing with fury. "She's always been clumsy."

My blood ran cold. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Yooyeon was my friend, and Nakyoung was being incredibly unfair. A surge of protectiveness for Yooyeon ignited within me.

"That's enough, Nakyoung," I said firmly, my voice low and dangerous. Her eyes widened in surprise. I'd never spoken to her like that before.

Without another word, I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the cafeteria. We stormed out into the hallway, ignoring the stunned stares of the students.

I dragged her into a small café on the corner, the bell above the door jingling softly. We sat down at a quiet corner table, the soft jazz music providing a much-needed respite from the chaos of the cafeteria.

I ordered two dalgona coffees and a small plate of brownies, trying to calm my racing heart. Nakyoung sat across from me, her arms crossed, her face still flushed with anger.

"I can't believe you defended her," she said finally, her voice laced with venom.

"Yooyeon is my friend, Nakyoung," I said calmly. "She didn't mean to spill your food."

"She's clumsy," she retorted.

I sighed. "Accidents happen, Nakyoung. We all make mistakes."

She glared at me, but I could see the anger slowly fading from her eyes. I took a sip of my coffee, the sweet and bitter taste a comforting contrast to the turmoil inside me.

*sighs* "I-i'm sorry for overreacting," she said finally, her voice softer.

I smiled. "It's okay. But please, try to be a little kinder to Yooyeon. She's been there for me since we were kids."

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I know. She's your noona, right?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, she's my noona. Even though we've grown apart a bit since high school, she's still my senior. I look up to her."

Nakyoung smiled, and for the first time since the incident, her eyes held a genuine warmth. "I'll apologize to her tomorrow," she promised.

Relief washed over me. I reached across the table and ruffled her hair. "Good girl," I said, grinning.

As we left the café, hand-in-hand, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. The tension between Nakyoung and Yooyeon had been a constant source of stress, but for now at least, it seemed to have eased.

Meanwhile, In Yooyeon's POV

My heart pounded in my chest like a trapped bird. The sting of Nakyoung's words was a physical pain, a sharp knife twisting in my gut. To be dismissed so casually, to be seen as nothing more than a clumsy idiot, it was almost too much to bear.

I watched as Y/n and Nakyoung walked away, their hands intertwined, their laughter like a mocking melody in my ears. They were a perfect match, a fairytale couple, and I was the unwanted extra in their story.

A wave of despair washed over me. I'd loved Y/n for as long as I could remember. I'd watched him grow from a shy little boy into the handsome young man he was now. And yet, I'd never had the courage to tell him how I felt.

I pulled out my phone and found a picture of Y/n from our high school yearbook. His smile was as bright as the sun, and my heart ached with longing. I traced his features with my finger, tears blurring my vision.

"Why didn't I tell him?" I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. "Why didn't I have the courage?"

The answer was a bitter taste in my mouth. Fear. Fear of rejection, fear of losing his friendship. I'd let my fear dictate my life, and now I was paying the price.

But as the tears continued to flow, something else began to stir within me. A dark, twisted feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating. A part of me wanted to lash out, to hurt Nakyoung for what she'd said. To make her pay for stealing Y/n's heart.

And another part of me wanted to possess Y/n completely, to be the only one who saw him, touched him, loved him. I wanted to be the center of his world, the only person who mattered.

A dangerous smile crept across my face as I stared at the picture of Y/n. This wasn't the Yooyeon I knew, the shy, quiet girl who was always in the background. This was someone new, someone dark and twisted.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. I knew what I had to do. I had to get Y/n back, no matter the cost.

And as I looked into Y/n's smiling face, I made a promise to myself. I would have him, even if it meant destroying everything in my way.

The cafeteria was buzzing with activity, a sea of students chattering and laughing. I took a deep breath and walked in, bracing myself for whatever Nakyoung had planned.

To my surprise, she approached me with a look of genuine remorse. "Yooyeon Unnie, I'm so sorry about yesterday," she said, her voice sincere. "I was out of line."

I was caught off guard. I hadn't expected an apology, certainly not such a heartfelt one. I forced a smile. "It's no problem, Nakyoung. It was my fault for being so clumsy."

We stood there for a moment, an awkward silence hanging between us. Then, she nodded and walked away, joining her friends.

As the day wore on, I tried to focus on my classes, but my mind was racing. Nakyoung's apology had thrown me off balance. Part of me wanted to believe that she was sincere, but the other part was wary.

During my last class, I caught a glimpse of Nakyoung and her friends huddled together, their voices filled with laughter. I couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"And guess what?" I heard Nakyoung say, her voice excited. "I'm going to steal Y/n's first kiss!"

The room seemed to tilt on its axis. My heart pounded in my ears as I processed her words. She was going to take Y/n's first kiss? How could she be so heartless?

My vision blurred as anger and jealousy consumed me. I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of there.

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. My classmates stared at me in confusion, but I didn't care. I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the classroom, ignoring the teacher's calls for me to stay.

I ran out of the school and into the fresh air, the cold wind doing little to cool the fire burning inside me. I stumbled upon a park bench and collapsed, my body trembling.

How could I have been so stupid? I'd let Y/n slip through my fingers, and now he was about to be taken by someone else. I was a failure as a friend, as a woman.

Desperation and hatred warred within me. I had to do something, but I didn't know what. All I knew was that I couldn't let this happen.

Nakyoung was going to pay for what she was planning to do.

Back To Y/n's POV

I was buried in textbooks, trying to absorb the dense material for the upcoming exam. A sharp rap on the door startled me. Assuming it was Nakyoung, I quickly got up to open it. To my surprise, it was Yooyeon, standing there with a hesitant smile, holding a bag and a glass of soju.

"Yooyeon Noona? What are you doing here?" I asked, confusion evident in my voice.

She chuckled nervously. "I brought you dinner. And... well, I thought we could use a drink."

I stepped aside, inviting her in. The sight of her, standing in my small apartment, felt oddly intimate. We settled on the couch, the bag of food between us. The apartment was filled with an awkward silence, a stark contrast to the usual noise of our high school lives.

"So, how have you been?" I asked, trying to break the ice.

Yooyeon's smile faltered slightly. "I've been... okay, I guess. Just dealing with the usual final term stress."

We talked for a while, about school, friends, and the future. It felt like we were reconnecting, like we were back in those carefree days of childhood. As the soju warmed my insides, the conversation turned more serious.

"Y/n," Yooyeon began, her voice trembling slightly, "I need to tell you something."

I nodded, my heart pounding. "What is it Noona?"

She took a deep breath. "I saw Nakyoung with another guy today. They were... pretty intimate."

My world seemed to stop. Nakyoung? Cheating? It couldn't be true. I knew her, I trusted her.

"Y-you're lying," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Yooyeon's eyes filled with tears. "I wish I was. But I saw it with my own eyes."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I felt betrayed, deceived.

"N-no," I whispered again, shaking my head. "It's not true."

Yooyeon reached out and took my hand. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. She's been cheating on you."

Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't stop them. I felt like a fool, a complete idiot for trusting her.

Yooyeon pulled me into a tight embrace, her body trembling against mine. "I'm so sorry, Y/n," she whispered. "I know this must hurt you"

I clung to her, finding solace in her warmth. In that moment, she was the only person in the world who understood my pain.

"You're the only one who's ever really cared about me," she said, her voice muffled by my hair.

I looked up at her, my vision blurred with tears. She leaned in closer, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and desire. And then, she kissed me.

It was a gentle kiss, filled with a tenderness that surprised me. In that moment, the world disappeared, leaving only us. It was my first kiss, and it was perfect, or so it seemed.

But as our lips parted, a cold dread washed over me. I had been betrayed, not just by Nakyoung, but by my own heart.

I was lost, adrift in a sea of confusion and pain.

Nakyoung's POV

My heart pounded in my chest like a frantic drumbeat. It was almost midnight, and Y/n hadn't answered any of my calls or texts. A wave of panic washed over me. Something was wrong.

I raced to his apartment, my mind a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios. I pounded on the door, my knuckles aching. "Y/n! Open up!" I shouted, my voice trembling.

The door creaked open, revealing Yooyeon standing in the doorway. She was wearing a little piece of clothing, Her hair was disheveled, her eyes filled with a strange intensity. My heart skipped a beat. What was going on?

"Yooyeon Unnie? " I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.

She stepped aside, revealing Y/n sitting on the couch, looking pale and drawn. My relief turned to horror as I took in the scene. Yooyeon was wearing Y/n's shirt, and there was an undeniable intimacy between them that made my blood run cold.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded, my voice rising.

Yooyeon's lips curled into a sinister smile. "It's simple, Nakyoung. Y/n is mine now."

I felt a surge of anger. "You're crazy! He loves me!"

Yooyeon laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "Love? That's a childish notion. Possession is power, and he belongs to me now."

I lunged forward, ready to confront her, but she held up a hand to stop me. "Don't even bother," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "It's too late for you."

She turned to Y/n, her eyes softening. "Darling, why don't you show her how happy you are?"

Y/n looked at me with a vacant expression, as if he were a sleepwalker. He stood up and walked towards me, his movements slow and deliberate.

Terror gripped me as he approached. I backed away, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped.

Yooyeon stepped in front of me, her arm around Y/n's waist. "He's mine now, Nakyoung," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "So go home. This is our life now."

I tried to fight, to break free, but it was useless. Yooyeon was stronger than I thought, and Y/n was like a zombie, following her every command.

As I was dragged out of the apartment, I looked back at Y/n one last time. The man I loved was gone, replaced by a hollow shell controlled by a deranged woman.

A cold despair settled over me. I had lost everything.

The world seemed to darken as the door closed behind me, leaving me alone in the cold, unforgiving night.

The End

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icedmintteastuff · 9 months

Text

husband!wriothesley hcs

happy new year!! just making a husband!wriothesley for the new year, sorry for the wrong grammar :/ enjoy!!

warning: wrong grammar, ooc, slightly suggestive at the end.

you work at the court of fontaine, you are in charge in gathering information in investigation. you met wriothesley when clorinde mentioned you to him when they were investigating a case. you always claimed that the information came from the offender itself in every 'gossip' you tell her.

wriothesley then asked clorinde to invite you to the fortress for some tea, he knew the you work at the court of fontaine but he has never met you personally, even when he gets summoned for official matters.

the day of your visit came by he rizzed you with his tea asked for the information about the suspect(s) they're investigating. he found you funny and interesting whenever you're giving them information, since you're doing it like you're giving them the latest gossip that is going around, except you have the knowledge before the steambird did.

this routine kept going on with clorinde accompanying you to the fortress, clorinde noticed the way wriothesley looks at you as the time progresses, she then became overprotective of you space and privacy since the duke was getting a little bit too close to you.

clorinde then lowered her guard when you told her you developed feelings for the duke, she would help wriothesley every now and then in courting you, which he appreciates. he proposed to you on the same day you guys first met when both of you have a picnic under the warm sun.

you had a small wedding with your family and friends,and neuvillette being the wedding officiant and warning wriothesley to take care of you. later on, you would move in the fortress with wriothesley, however you have to go to the overworld for work, which wriothesley didn't mind, and you would return to the fortress at night with souvenirs for your husband and sigewinne.

there are times that you would roam around the fortress without your husband, and interacting with the prisoners, which you are not worried in the slightest bit. you know your husband watches you in the shadows and follows you around the fortress so that you can be safe.

husband!wriothesley loves the way you casually tell him other people's business as if you're just gossiping to him. plus, he sees this as a free information from the overworld.

"you know there's this guy who bragged about sleeping with a woman, but he robbed her when she was sleeping, he was bold enough to brag about it"

"if you're wondering why im getting a lot of letters lately, its my friend, they've been on and off with their relationship, i just told them to break up with their partner"

"remember the actress i told you about from before? yeah, she almost committed adultery because the guy she's currently going out was already married"

husband!wriothesley may not show affection to you publicly, but behind closed doors he immediately turns into a dog begging for head/chin scratches and belly rubs.

husband!wriothesley loves it whenever you sit on his lap, facing him, with your head on his shoulder, sleeping. there are times that he would fall asleep along with you since your slow breathing and soft snoring lulled him to sleep. if he's not asleep he would press kisses on your lips which he would chuckle whenever you scrunch your nose.

husband!wriothesley who thought about having kids with you, but decided not to have one yet since both of you are not ready for one. for now, you guys have sigewinne and the melusines.

husband!wriothesley who looks at you in disbelief after finding out that you help sigewinne and the melusines put stickers all over him and his belongings.

"you're my wife yet your betraying me like this??"

"sorry about that, you look good in glitter though" you giggled at him

"flattery will get you nowhere, dear" you chuckle, knowing he wasn't mad at you. not that he would get mad at you anyway

"aww, is my husband upset with me?" you coo, striding towards him "how will i ever make it up to him?" you put one arm behind his neck, with your free hand caressing his cheeks.

husband!wriothesley who secretly enjoys your mischievous side, even if you give him headaches with your shenanigans, he's still willing to clean up your mess.

"what did you do this time??" he asked you sternly to which you didn't respond, only looking away pouting and tapping the tip of your feet. the two guards behind you starts to sweat at your lack of response, afraid that you angered the duke.

your husband sighs and dismissed the two guards. your husband looks at you as the guards exit, "that's it. you're getting punished" he suddenly stride towards you and threw you on his shoulder. you let out a yelp and started to kick you feet.

you stopped kicking when you felt a smack on your ass, "behave yourself." "im sorry!!" "don't worry dear, i'll know it when i hear it"

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin imagines #wriothesley fanfic #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n

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shadowdaddies · 9 months

Text

Always Yours

Azriel x Reader angst to fluff

A/N: okay this is the alternate end to Never Yours, based on this request where reader and Az have a happy ending. The story is the same up until the cut, and that's where it changes. This is still quite angsty so please read the warnings.💜

Warnings: drinking, drugging/vomitting as a result, attempted SA

Azriel had been gone on mission for weeks, leaving your heart aching, empty and alone. You tried to be understanding of his role as spymaster, supporting and encouraging him when he would leave you in Velaris. Over the past year with tensions growing between courts, you and Azriel had spent more time apart than together. A dichotomy of emotions was consuming you, the loathing you felt towards him for abandoning you so often battling how deeply you missed him.

It was another lonely day in your home, holding back tears while you cleaned the house as a pathetic attempt at distracting yourself. A knock on the door stirred you from your eddying thoughts, and you set down the cleaning supplies, wiping your tears as you looked through the peephole. A head of long blonde hair appeared through the lens, and you sighed, unlocking the door as it opened to reveal Morrigan on the other side.

Forcing yourself to reciprocate her cheery smile, you held the door wider as the perky female bounded into the room, curls bouncing behind her. “Get dressed. We’re going out to Rita’s tonight,” she announced as she waltzed past you towards your bedroom.

Opening up the armoire, Mor pulled out a low-cut sleeveless black dress, tossing it onto the bed before moving towards the jewelry box on your dresser. Sighing, you sat down on the bed, playing with the silky fabric of the garment. It felt wrong, going to Rita’s without Azriel. It felt wrong letting yourself have any fun while he was risking his life to keep your court safe.

“I don’t know, Mor. I would just rather stay in tonight,” you uttered in a defeated voice, dropping the dress skirt back onto the bed.

Oblivious to your misery, Mor whipped around, a beautiful necklace and matching earring in her hands as she approached you. “None of that. You and I are going out for a girls’ night, and we’re going to have fun. You do remember what that word means, don’t you?” she teased, her hair tickling your neck as she reached around to clasp the necklace on you.

You chewed your lip, staring at the dress as you deliberated your options. “Just one drink,” Mor spoke, softer this time, eyes wide with sincerity.

A small yet genuine smile made its way to your lips at that. “Just one drink,” you agreed, stripping your shirt as you changed into the outfit she’d laid out.

Mor squealed with excitement, helping you get ready before you left for the bar. It was a crowded night, a sea of new faces in the crowd that you observed from where you stood at the bar. It had been so long since you’d been around this many people - the lights, the music, the crowd - and you were suddenly overcome with nerves.

Knocking back the drink that Mor had ordered for you, you flagged down the bartender for another, finishing that one quickly as well. You were feeling the effects of the drink by the time you dragged Mor to the dance floor, feeling giggly and light for the first time in ages.

A striking female caught Mor’s eye, and you laughed as you nudged your friend towards the part of the floor where the other female stood. “Go talk to her, I’m going to grab some water,” you whisper-shouted into her ear over the music. Mor nodded, the two of you parting ways as you escaped the sweaty, writhing bodies on the dance floor in search of the bar.

The place was even more crowded than before, the bartender now slammed with drink orders as you failed to flag him down for a water. Feeling a warm presence at your back, you turned to see a tall male, dark curls falling in his brown eyes as he smiled down at you. Only after blinking several times did you confirm that this was not Azriel, but a handsome stranger whose hand now rested on the small of your back.

It had been so long since anyone had touched you like this, and you found yourself leaning into his warmth, a smile gracing your lips when he leaned down, whispering into your ear. “Can I get you something to drink?” he spoke in a husky voice, thick with desire that had heat pooling between your legs. Feeling tipsy and eager for something to quench your thirst from dancing, you simply nodded, thanking the male as the bartender brought over a drink for you that was definitely not water.

The room was spinning, and you clutched onto the male at your side, melting into his warmth as broad arms wrapped around you. A soft laugh sounded at your ear, the words coming out distorted as someone whispered comforting words in your ear.

The scent of pine filled your nose, Azriel smelling slightly different than usual as you burrowed into his chest. A hand found your chin, tilting you up to see a blurred face. You were focusing hard, vision coming to just enough to realize that this was not Azriel. You pushed the male away, your arms weak, movements sluggish.

A shout sounded from your side, blonde hair in a whirl as the man fell to ground, blood pouring from his nose. You stumbled forward, Mor’s embrace catching you before leaning you back against the counter.

“What were you thinking?” She yelled, holding your face in her hands, a rage unlike which you’d seen from her before in her eyes. Your vision turned spotty, breathing becoming difficult before your stomach lurched, everything in your stomach emptying onto Mor and the ground.

The scent was strong, Mor’s eyes flaring as she recognized the wrongness of the drink. Your head lolled back against the bar as Mor flagged down Rita, telling her everything. City sentries detained the male, the last thing you saw before your vision faded completely.

You awoke the next morning, your head pounding as you squinted against the light pouring through the window. You heard the rustling of clothing from the other side of the bed, panicking at who the intruder might be. But when you turned over, your heart nearly burst with joy at the sight of Azriel, changing out of his leathers and into sleeping clothes.

Hazel eyes flashed to yours, deep with sorrow and red from tears. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered, voice shaking as he stood there, frozen.

“I’m glad that you did,” you spoke, a cough erupting in your throat at the dryness there. Azriel rushed to your bedside table, grabbing a glass of water as he guided it to your lips.

“I rushed home as soon as I received word from Rhys. Mor told me what happened at Rita’s last night. I am so, so sorry that I wasn’t there for you,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours as salty tears dripped onto the bedsheets.

“It’s okay, Azriel. I am okay.” You sniffled, heart twisting with the words you wanted to say instead. Pulling back, you looked into his eyes - beautiful, hazel eyes - as you brushed a black curl from his face. “That’s not true. I’m not okay, Azriel. I need you here. I’ve tried to be strong, but I am not whole without you. And I know that that’s selfish but-“

Azriel cut you off with a soft kiss to your lips, a smile breaking out across his perfect face. “My love, I am not going anywhere. Now, or ever. We had Madja look you over last night after the incident.” He paused, reaching down for your hands as he pressed kisses all along the backs of them. “We’re having a baby.”

Your world stopped turning in that moment, pure awe written across your features as you dared to smile up at Azriel. “What do you mean? How?”

Azriel smiled. “Well, I think you know how that happens, but I’m happy to show you if you need a reminder.”

With a giggle, you pushed him playfully. Hope filled your veins, giving you new life that you hadn’t felt in too long. “A baby?”

Azriel pulled you close, the scent of chilled mist and cedar giving you comfort as you leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of his lips brushing your forehead. “I’ve talked to Rhys. We’ll be re-delegating roles in the Court so that I can be here, where I am needed. With my family.”

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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 10 months

Text

"Do they end up together?"

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

genre: fluff

el's thoughts: it's a bit rough but super cute!! it's been wayyyyy too long since i've written for him haha

The sound of rain echoed through the windows into the Gryffindor common room while the warmth from the fire fought off the cold draft. Y/N lay on the couch in front of the bright flames with her blanket tossed over her outstretched legs, her mug of tea had long gone cold sitting on the table beside her.

“Whatcha reading there, Dove?”

Y/N jumped in her seat and stuffed the book behind the pillows on the couch. “Nothing,” she smiled up at the tall boy as he walked to stand in front of the fireplace. “Nothing.”

Remus eyed her suspiciously with a smirk and hummed. He threw himself on the couch beside her, moving his body to lay his head on her lap. He snatched the book from behind the pillows at his side and held it out of her reach. He chuckled when he saw the title, “It only took you how long?”

Y/N threw her head back and groaned while trying to shove him away from her. “I know I knooow, Rem. It really is a good book.” She could feel him roll his eyes. “Okay fine, you were right. You were right all along. Happy?” She looked back down at him only to find him already watching her.

He said nothing but smiled before he sat up and lifted her feet to place on his lap. “Very. Now, what part are you at?”

Y/N started explaining the scene, describing her favorite characters. Remus watched with a fond smile. “Who’s your favorite character?” she asked him when she finished her rant.

She stared at Remus, dazed while she listened to him talk about his favorite characters and explain why all the while carefully avoiding spoilers for her.

Her best friend since their first year and the only other sane person in their tight group of friends. Her fellow lover-of-books. Her confidant and shoulder to lean on. There isn’t a single problem she had had that Remus didn’t already know about. It would be a safe bet to assume that he knew more about her than she did.

“I guess in summary I really like her as a character ‘cause she reminds me of you.” He grinned up at her smugly.

“You cheeky bastard,” she muttered, trying to hide the blush crawling its way up her neck.

“Only for you, Dove.”

His eyes bore into hers, bearing nothing but his playful and teasing nature. The warm glow of the slowly dying fire reflected in his chocolate eyes. Y/N knew she had to look away soon, she’d been staring for a few seconds too long now and time only continued to make its way by, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

Remus slowly leaned closer to her, moving his hand to rest by her side to support his weight.

“Does she actually remind you of me?” Y/N asked almost breathlessly, referring back to his favorite character.

“I wouldn’t say so if the truth was otherwise,” he whispered back.

She leaned closer to him and time seemed to lay still, the background noises of the few students still awake instantly became muffled in her ears. The fire’s warmth seemed to grow tenfold as she felt her face heat up. “Tell me, do they end up together?”

She was mesmerized as his lips curled into a smirk. “Who are we talking about now? You’re gonna have to clarify.”

“Oh shut up.” Her hands came up to hold both sides of his face as she finally brought her lips to his. The kiss was soft like they were testing the waters, but when neither of them pulled away Remus placed his hand on his waist and pulled her closer. Their lips fit together like a puzzle.

Y/N hummed and moved her hands to the nape of his neck to pull gently at his baby hairs.

“Finally!”

The pair jumped apart as if they were burned by each other’s touch. They turned to see James, Sirius, and Lily standing there with wide smiles and proud smirks.

“I’d say it’s about time,” Lily laughed.

Y/N groaned and buried her head in the cushions. “Lily…” she dragged out her friend's name purely out of embarrassment.

Remus chuckled, “I’d have to agree with you, Lils.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #ellora.writes

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

Window to the Abbey | Happiness Series

a/n: it’s been so long! i’m so excited for the next few chapters :) WE GET KÖNIG EVERYBODY IM SO EXCITED

warning: Children, Mellie is sick :(

summary: Winnie and Mellie are cautious of the two new operators in their house, Simon’s calling, and Mellie’s sick. To say you’re handling it with grace would be an understatement.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

By the time you had headed to bed, your kids were sound asleep. All of the people in your house were fed, but only Laswell would be staying up later than you. König and Roach were meant to be arriving past midnight, and as much as you wanted to stay up and greet them, your kids always run you down by the end of the day. You were running off of fumes by the time you had showered and brushed your teeth, the familiar motion of scrubbing them felt like a warming lullaby. As the swish, swish, swish of your toothbrush sounded in the bedroom, you searched Simon’s dresser for an old shirt to sleep in. It was sweet to see that he still kept his band t-shirts from when he was a young adult, even if he confessed to you that he didn’t much care for the music now. You plucked a worn one that you often found yourself sleeping in, the band name had been washed off after years of wear.

You returned to the bathroom, spitting out the toothpaste into the sink as your phone began to ring. You looked over to the tub where your phone was sitting on the ledge, seeing the caller ID. Simon.

“Everything right?”

“Right as rain.”

“Baby’s okay?”

You settled your hands on the sink before putting your toothbrush back into the cabinet. “Simon. The baby is fine. The girls are fine. I’m eating like I should, taking the vit-a-mins-“

“Vit-a-mins,” He mocked you, pitching his voice higher. “Don’t mock me. Laswell there?”

A laugh left your lips. “Yeah, she’s here. The girls warmed up very quickly since she brought at least a thousand dollars worth of presents.”

“I’m not going to ask.”

“How’re my boys?” You grabbed your hair comb, taking a piece of hair in one hand and starting to detangle it.

“Gaz and Soap are doing fine. Being annoying as usual. Cap lost one of his good cigars.”

“I’ll find him a new one. And how’s my husband?” You kept brushing your hair, exhaustion weaving its way through your muscles. It’s just two more weeks, we can do this.

“Tired. I want to be home with you.”

Your heart already felt bruised without him, him saying that felt like another hit. You gazed at yourself in the mirror, internally waving away the feeling that Simon would come through the doorway at that very moment. “I know. I’m so tired, this baby is already takin’ everything out of me.”

“Don’t be scared to ask König or Roach for help. John already drilled them about not saying no to you.”

Your heart swelled, a smile on your face now. What you did to deserve Simon and his team, you’d never know. “He didn’t have to do that, I’m an adult.” You then gave up on completely detangling your hair, just taking the brush through it enough before you put your brush down. There wasn’t anything you needed for the soldiers to do for you, other than keep your daughters safe in the walls of your home. Your fingers gripped onto the porcelain sink, fighting the sinking feeling of abandonment. Simon is coming back, you tell yourself. He would never leave you and your girls alone.

“Yeah, but you’re my wife. My pregnant wife.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest, happiness in your heart as you moved out of the bathroom but not before shutting off the light. You kept your phone close to your ear as you moved towards your bed. “Simon, I’m barely a month and a half along, I’m not a hormonal monster yet.”

“I still want you taken care of the way I want you to be.”

You moved into your bed, sitting up against the headboard. “You’re too good to me.” You pulled the blankets up to your stomach, the hand lingering on your belly before sliding over to Simon’s cold pillow beside yours. Your heart squeezed with a cold sensation that you didn’t dare place.

“I’m doin’ my best.”

“I miss you.”

A beat of silence then the sound of shuffling. “Miss you more. Can’t even sleep without you, jus’ keep tossin’ and turnin’.”

“I don’t even want to think about sleep.”

“You need to sleep regardless, I want you exactly how I left you, but with a bigger belly.”

You laughed a little, settling down onto your back. “I’m not gonna get big that fast, Simon. You’ll only be gone, what, two weeks?”

“Probably. I just… Don’t want to miss you growing my baby again.”

You tugged Simon’s pillow into your chest as you rolled onto your side, settling your cheek on the soft fabric. “You’ll be back in no time, I promise you’re not missing much.”

“Y/N?”

Goosebumps traveled up and down your spine, knowing he was being serious if he said your name. “Yeah?”

“Be safe for me, okay?”

“Always.” You answered, wanting to feel his heartbeat underneath your fingertips again. “Are you going to sleep?”

“I was gonna try.”

“Can you stay on the line ‘til I fall asleep?”

A deep and lighthearted chuckle sounded from your phone, but you didn’t feel embarrassed that you needed his comfort - you knew he loved you more than anything, he’d do anything for you. “Yeah, love. Jus’ close your eyes. I love you.”

A smile on your lips as you closed your eyes, letting the phone stay on his pillow, only a couple inches from your face.

“I love you too, Simon.”

There was just a small moment of his laughter before he spoke again. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Well, this is new.”

Mellie’s face was buried into your neck, little tears in her eyes as she curled into your chest. You have an apologetic look to König, the tall Austrian only blinked back. “I promise she’s usually friendly, I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” The man looked genuinely distressed, as if he did something wrong. You felt worried as soon as you saw that look in his eye, but you were quick to reassure him. “I’m sure she’ll get over it, she doesn’t quite like the masks. Simon doesn’t wear one around the house so she’s not quite used to it yet.” You looked down to Mellie and placed your hand on her forehead, feeling her skin be warmer than usual - that was probably why she wasn’t acting right.

He cleared his throat. “I-I’m sorry.”

You waved your hand, softly bouncing on your feet as your baby then gripped your hairs at the nape of your neck. “Ow- It’s fine, König. You don’t have to take the mask off if you don’t want, she’ll be fine.” You turned away from him, walking back into the living room from the kitchen. Laswell was standing near the window that displayed the garden, Roach was sat on the floor playing fire trucks with Winnie. Breakfast had come and gone, Mellie had woken up late and had not taken a liking to Roach or König. The little one was still quietly crying into your neck as you moved across the room to Laswell.

She had been on the phone almost all morning, voice low as she kept her eye on all entrances. But now, no phone was held in her hand, only her gaze upon the garden was holding her attention.

“Kate?”

She looked over to shoulder and a small frown appeared on her face as she saw the scared girl on your arm. “Aww, what happened?”

You smirked a little, looking down to Mellie. “She’s not a fan of Uncle König or Uncle Roach’s masks.”

Laswell laughed a little and you looked back up to her. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“Are you sure that nothing’s gonna happen?” Your voice lowered, your free hand coming to help wrangle your baby hairs from Mellie’s grip. “Are we safe here?”

The woman’s smile fell before she took a look outside, then back to you. “No. Anything can happen, no matter how secure the place is. König and Roach being here is a precaution, I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

You nodded before looking over your shoulder, seeing Winnie giggling as Roach crashed a toy car into the big building made of toy blocks. You turned back to Laswell. “Well, thank you for staying too. I was gonna ask if I could take Winnie out to the park later, maybe leave Mellie here ‘cause she feels like she’s running a fever.”

The woman pressed her lips together, looking to Roach and Winnie too before she looked back to you. “Roach and I will take her.”

You gave her a smile. “Thank you.” You moved back towards your couch, stepping around Winnie as she demolished Roach’s block house with her toy. Roach made a noise of surprise towards Winnie as you sat down, a small coo from Mellie drew your attention back to her. You looked down at her, hand instantly back on her forehead - she was very warm, that made you worried. Your eyes flickered upwards, seeing König standing in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes watching everyone in the room. “König?”

His back became ramrod straight as he answered, “Yes, ma’am?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s just Y/N. But in the very left top cabinet from the oven is the medicine cabinet, could you get me the baby Tylenol and the syringe beside it?”

The giant nodded, immediately disappearing into the kitchen as Kate softly laughed from the windowsill. You looked to her, she spoke with a laugh, “Your husband has them both terrified of you.”

Shaking your head, you sat forwards and rested a hand on Winnie’s head, patting it. Your daughter moved her head to look up at you with a smile before looking back at Roach. “He’s just cautious.”

“He is very intimidating.” König spoke from behind the couch, a large hand appeared in your vision with the things you asked for as you leaned back.

You grabbed them, not before saying, “Keep your hand there.” Mellie was still facing you, so you placed the medicine down in your lap before maneuvering her little baby hand to settle on top of König’s outstretched palm. You glanced up to the man before saying, “Simon holds her hand when I give her medicine.”

König made a noise of acknowledgment as you kept Mellie on your arm, moving your hands together so you could quickly draw the dose of Tylenol into the syringe. By the time Mellie raised her hand to look at who she was touching, you had squished her cheeks together so her mouth opened and squirted the medicine into the back of her throat. The little baby squawked and coughed, withdrawing her hand from König and rubbing her eye, softly crying.

You put down the syringe and pet her face, she only murmured at you before slamming her face back into your neck. “I’m sorry, honey, it’s alright.” You looked up to König, who was watching your daughter very curiously. “Thank you.”

He nodded in response.

Mellie hated baths when she was sick. The sweet little girl was crying, upset as you gently poured the lukewarm water over her back. The rubber duck she had in her hand was curled into her chest, her little throat sounding rough since she had finally stopped screaming. It was at moments like this where you wished Simon was there with you - his gentle hand would settle on Mellie’s back, the baby would immediately begin to calm down. But Mellie didn’t want you to rub her back, touch her head, or even hold her; she was getting too hot, trying to tear off her clothes as she screeched for her Dada. He had been gone for less than two days and you felt like you were already overwhelmed.

Winnie was always easy as a baby and Mellie seemed that way too, at least until Simon had to leave. He was almost never gone since the night he had came home and found you in bed, his two month old daughter on your chest. The longest he would be gone was one night but he had been back in the morning, bright and early. She’s always had him, you understood it will be hard since she’s too little to understand why Simon was gone. You kissed her warm forehead, careful to miss the sweet smelling soap on her head.

Winnie had gone to the park with Roach and Kate only a couple of hours ago, Kate saying that she was going to run Simon’s usual errands. Shopping, some paperwork, pick up dinner. Now, the only ones left in the house was König, you, and Mellie - your daughter wanted nothing to do with the gentle giant. You found him oddly sweet, he was insanely awkward for a grown man but sometimes that’s just how it is. It took you a while to break Simon of that shell.

Your daughter coughed a little, pulling you from your thoughts as you kept cupping water to wash off the sudsy soap from her little body. “Sorry, honey. Mama’s tired today, isn’t she?”

Mellie’s deep brown eyes stared up at you, red with tears as she sniffled a soft, “Dada.”

You cupped the back of her head, gently threading your thumb over her baby curls. “He’ll be home soon, my girl. It’s just me for right now, okay?” Your baby pouted a little, tears welled in her eyes and you were ready for another thirty minutes of screaming - but it didn’t come. Only soft little whimpers from her, you could almost hear your heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Dada.” She murmured, her free hand coming to make a grabby hand towards you. You instantly placed your hand in front of hers, letting her grip onto your fingers.

You gave her a small smile. “We’re done, baby. You feel a little better? We’ll get some medicine on your chest ‘n we’ll take a nap.” Mellie coughed in response, you looked away for just a moment to grab her towel that had printed ducks on it - Winnie had picked it out at the shop specifically for her baby sister months ago. You turned back to Mellie, plucking her from the water and wrapping her up, letting her still very warm forehead to rest on your cheek. You kept her balanced in your grip as you leaned down, pulling out the drain plug before moving to leave the bathroom.

You pulled the door open, feeling a slight breeze through the house that wasn’t there before you took Mellie to the bath.

König must’ve opened a window.

Your daughter had grown quiet with her wet cheek against yours, you kept her wrapped up when you walked across the hallway, the floorboards creaked underneath your bare feet as you opened the door to her nursery. The white curtains in front of her window were softly flowing with the cool breeze, you silently thanked König for opening the windows. The cooler temperature would make Mellie comfortable. You rested your baby on her changing table and was quick to put a new nappy on her, the little one looked up at you drowsily. You were quick to put her ducky towel over her little body to keep her warm as you opened a drawer or two in the table, looking for your little tub of baby vapor rub - something your mother swore by when she came to visit months ago. You weren’t very keen on using it unless either of your babies were incredibly sick, and the way Mellie was acting definitely made you feel like this cold was gonna be a bad one.

You put just a little smidge of the rub on her chest, rubbing it in and keeping an eye on her little face. “Look at Mama, bug.” Her eyes were staring right behind you, something she always did, but she didn’t look back to you. She turned her head the other way, looking at the wall. A sigh left your lips as you kept gently rubbing her chest.

She’s just sick, she’ll be acting fine soon.

You picked her up again, keeping her tucked into your chest. It was no use trying to put new clothes on her, all of the Riley girls strip off their clothes when they’re sick, no matter how old - you included. Mellie murmured against your chest, hands holding onto the shirt of Simon’s you were wearing. “We’re gonna go lay down with Mama this time, okay?”

She shook her little head into your chest as you moved out of her nursery and then into your bedroom, very easily holding Mellie with one arm as the other pulled back the blankets. You tugged Simon’s pillow to be in the middle of his side and then slid yourself in between the cold covers. You placed Mellie on her back, the pillow acting like a barrier between her and the end of the bed. Fortunately, Mellie didn’t like to move around when she was sick - she stayed in the same place, so it was easy for you to pull yourself under the covers and over her belly. Her hand gripped the sleeve of your shirt, tears welled in her eyes as she murmured some noises.

Your head settled on your pillow, you gently moved Mellie’s hand so you could move onto your side. Your hand then rested on her forehead, feeling her temperate had gone down a little but she was still warm.

“We’ll talk to Dad when he gets off work, okay?” You murmured, your hand then rested on Mellie’s stomach.

She cooed a little, a whisper escaped her lips, “Dada.”

You smiled at your baby. “Yeah, Dada. Mama’s gonna call and we’ll talk to him.” You reached your arm out and grabbed your phone, noting that the time was almost six. You unlocked your phone and shot Simon a text, hoping he’d respond soon. In the mean time, you put your phone on his pillow before curling up, watching little Mellie was she watched you. “We gotta wait, lovie. Sissy will want to talk to Dad too.”

She shook her head a little, a smile appeared on your face.

“Mmhmm. Dad’s working, he’ll call us in a minute.”

A thunder of footsteps could be heard downstairs as well as the distinct laugh of Winnie, you smiled. Winnie always found you when she came home, which would be perfect timing if Simon called. You turned over to look at your bedroom door, hearing her rushing footsteps as they approached your room before she burst in, her pigtails half undone and a huge grin on her face. “Mama!”

“Hi, baby!” You instantly smiled, putting an arm out to let her grab so you could pull her up - she helped pull herself up onto the bed and instantly fell onto your chest, forcing a loud “Oof!” from your throat. Her little head was shoved into your neck, arms around your chest as best they could as your one arm wrapped tightly around her. “Did you have fun, my love?”

Furious nodding ensued from your eldest daughter. “Uncle Roach fell off the swing set.” A giggle escaped her lips and a chuckle left yours as you looked down to her brunette hair. “And I got an ice lolly.”

“Did you thank your uncle and aunt?”

“Yes, Mama.”

You kissed her hair. “Good girl. I was seeing if Dad wanted to call, do you want to talk to him?”

She nodded into your neck, but gently pet her back as she mumbled, “I miss Dad.”

You sighed a little. “I do too.”

Winnie raised her head from your neck, a little frown on her face. “When is he coming home?”

Your hand was quick to pull the ties from her pigtails, unable to look your daughter in the face as you said, “Soon, baby.”

“Is Melsie sick?” The girl peered over you to look at Mellie, you looked too - the baby was gazing at both of you, a smile appeared on your face. Her little face looked tired, her hands resting on her own chest. “She looks sick, Mama.”

You sighed, your other hand coming to settle on top of your baby’s belly, she whimpered. You fully turned your head to look at Mellie, the little baby looking and feeling sick made you upset. Such a sweet little thing didn’t deserve to be uncomfortable and in pain. “She is sick, Winnie. Can you take my phone from Dad’s pillow?”

The older girl moved over your chest, stretching over her baby sister and then bringing your phone to rest on your chest. As you did, it began to vibrate - you pulled your hand away from Winnie to hold it and answer Simon’s call.

“Hi love.”

A squeal came from Winnie as she chirped, “Daddy!”

“Hi, Duckling. How are you?”

She giggled, taking the phone in her hands and she began to chat with her dad, telling him all about her fun adventures with her Uncle Roach and Auntie Kate. You watched her smile get wider with every second she talked to Simon, your hand went to settle on Mellie’s stomach. She whined a little, you glanced to Mellie but you couldn’t stop watching how happy Winnie was.

It reminded you of when Simon would call every night he could and read Winnie to sleep when she was two. She would be so happy to hear his voice when he had been physically gone for weeks, she would always react to his voice when he called since he had started when she was one. It was sweet, you couldn’t ever get over just how much your husband adored his daughters.

Mellie cooed a little, hearing Simon’s voice and letting out a small, “Dada.”

“Winnie,” Your hand reached out for Winter, who looked to you with a curious glare. “It’s Mellie’s turn.”

And there it was, Winnie’s signature pout. With her bottom lip pushed out and tears at the ready, she murmured, “But she can’t talk, Mama. I wanna talk to Daddy.”

“I know, but it’s been a few minutes.” You raised your chest from the bed, now able to swoop some curls around Winnie’s ear. “Mellie needs to hear from him too, even if she can’t talk back. Come on, now.” Winnie let out a grumble, you heard Simon’s deep chuckling as the phone was placed on your chest. “Thank you.”

You settled the phone near Mellie’s head as Winnie crawled over, curling herself onto Simon’s pillow as the baby cooed, “Dada.”

“Hi, Mellie.”

That spooked Mellie, causing her to take frantic looks around as she kicked out her feet. Her older sister laughed, watching her Melsie look for their dad.

“Dada Dada.” Your baby’s little head moved to look at you, one hand reached out for your face - you intercepted it with your own hand, a smile on your face.

“I bet she’s confused.”

You nodded to yourself before saying a soft, “She misses you, Si.”

There was a moment where you knew exactly how Simon would react to that, knowing he’d be sitting on his bed and clenching his blanket in his grasp, trying to stop the tears that have rarely fell in his home with you.

“I miss my girls.”

“We miss you too.” You looked to your phone, a part of you wishing that it was physically him instead. Hair tousled, eyes soft and smile wide - he’d be holding Mellie while she cried, gently talking to her to calm her down. He would be home soon, I felt it in my heart. I kissed Mellie before I reached for Winnie, kissing her forehead. “Just wanted to let the girls hear your voice, baby. We love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll be home soon.”

Simon stared at his phone, mask in hand as he sat in his curtain darkened office. The only illumination was his phone and his computer in front of him - he felt he deserved to sit in darkness until he finally came home to his girls, his daylight.

He flicked the small printed photo of his family in his free hand, it was the one he kept in his wallet.

“I know it’s early, but I’m gonna try and get them to sleep. Mel’s starting some sort of cold.”

Simon’s heart ached. He wished to be home that very second so he could scoop his little girl into his arms and love on her. “I’m sorry I’m not there to help.”

“You’re being a superhero, Daddy!” Winnie chirped, he could hear her smile. It hurt his heart that he couldn’t hold her either.

“Good night, my girls.” He spoke softly. “I love you.”

You whispered your good night and your love for him, all while Winnie pressed her face to the phone with giggles. The call ended, and Simon was left in a cold dark room, hours from home on a base that he’s only been twice before.

His eyes glanced over to his desktop, rereading the information on the target.

Last seen in London, UK three days ago.

Blond, green eyed, bulk build. Associated with Russian Mafia.

The photo box was empty. Every man who had eyes on him couldn’t get an image fast enough, weren’t skilled enough to see that he had slipped onto a train to Manchester to find his son. Simon could never know that his entire life hung in the balance of one man. And it wasn’t even himself.

He shut off his computer, sliding a hand down his face. He stretched back in his chair before he stood, still flipping the picture in his fingers as he made his way to his small cot. If he closed his eyes for a moment, even in the darkness of this already solitary office, he could imagine himself getting back into his bed. Under the soft sheets, arms curled around you and leg tucked in between yours.

He sat on his dark green canvas cot, toed off his already unlaced boots, and let his back hit the wall.

There were going to be many sleepless nights ahead of him, and it wasn’t even because he had to be awake and vigilant. It was because he yearned for you.

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