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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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edenesth · 9 months

Text

The Way to His Heart [2]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 1 | Fic Masterlist | Part 3

"S-sir, are you truly certain this is acceptable? This is worse than all the previous quarters we've arranged for your past fiancées."

Seonghwa grinned in satisfaction, "What do you mean, Jongho? This is perfect. She will take what she gets. If she's so unhappy, she can go ahead and run back to her dear father for all I care."

Like all his prior marriage candidates, the general had instructed his servants to ready accommodations in the least appealing quarters available in his estate. It was all part of his strategy to intimidate and drive them away. Nothing brought him greater joy than hearing their whiny shrieks of displeasure as they fled his home, rushing back to plead with their fathers to annul the engagement.

Given he had no say in this particular wedding, his only option was to make it as unpleasant as possible, hoping to scare you away. Surely, the words of the minister's precious daughter would carry more weight with her father and, consequently, the King.

Seonghwa counted on you to bring about the downfall of this marriage, "This should be enough to get the job done. Worry not, Jongho. She'll be gone in less than a day, mark my words."

As he observed his master striding off to his study, the assistant shook his head in defeat, glancing unsurely at the preparations made for the daughter of the Minister of Military Affairs. This particular room had remained vacant since the general first assumed control of the estate from its previous owner.

The room had earned the nickname "The Cold Palace," drawing parallels to the infamous residences of China's Forbidden City, where concubines who had made mistakes or fallen out of favour with the emperor were confined until their last days.

According to tales from the previous residents, the room might have even been haunted, with rumours circulating about the previous mistress of the estate taking her own life within those walls.

Leave it to the general to be fixated on the darkest forms of torment, truly living up to his reputation. Oh, he just couldn't wait to see the look on his new wife's face when she would eventually be ushered into her very own cold palace.

"Are the preparations to the master's liking?" Eunsook, the head maid, inquired of Jongho as she emerged from the quarters after ensuring that all dusty areas had been thoroughly cleaned.

The assistant nodded, his lips pressed in a firm line, "He's more than satisfied, but..."

The elderly woman raised a brow with a knowing smile, "But?"

Jongho sighed, "Is this really right? After all, she is about to become the mistress of this estate, and having her reside here, of all places, seems a little too much."

The two could only shake their heads as they cast a final glance at the pitiful excuse for a room. Having been left untouched for decades, the furniture within was mostly rusty or broken in certain places. While it was cleaned on the surface, who knew what sort of parasites or little crawlies had already made their home there.

Despite the possibility of the new Lady Park being a spoiled brat, as the general claimed, the assistant and head maid weren't sure if she deserved this kind of treatment.

"There's nothing we can do for her, Jongho. Now, we best get back to work before anyone hears us or master will have our heads."

The younger man nodded in defeat before they went about their day, uncertain if they should even be looking forward to the arrival of their master's bride on the next day.

"Lord have mercy on her poor soul."

They couldn't fathom any more humiliation that she had to endure beyond what she already had. According to typical traditions, the bridegroom was expected to visit the bride's home with gifts and a dowry, paying respects to the bride's ancestors before escorting her back to his home.

In an attempt to appease the general and ensure the wedding proceeded, the King had agreed to forgo all customary procedures, allowing the bride to travel to his estate on her own. For some mind-boggling reason, the minister had also agreed to these conditions.

"Your Majesty, if you want me to proceed with the wedding peacefully, I will, on one condition." Seonghwa boldly asserted in the assembly where details of his wedding were being finalised.

"What is it, my boy? Anything for you." The King cooed.

The minister straightened in his seat, clenching his fists in fear of the general making any unreasonable requests.

"Please do not expect me to follow through with any of the silly traditions. I will do no such thing. On our wedding day, I will be waiting in my own estate. Minister Jang can prepare his daughter's transportation. If that is viable, I will finally be married as you so pleased, your Majesty."

The King grimaced, throwing the minister a worried glance, "Seonghwa, isn't that a little much? Think about the poor girl—"

To everyone's surprise, your father breathed a sigh of relief, "Is that all, General Park? If so, I do not see much of a problem with it. My daughter is also not a fan of flamboyant celebrations. She favours simplicity, much like yourself. I'm sure she'll be more than happy with the new arrangements."

Sure, you tell yourself that.

The general grinned into his fist, satisfied. That would make her the laughingstock of the century. The King blinked at the unexpected response but beamed regardless, "Does she now? Oh, Seonghwa, I knew she was perfect for you!"

Everyone was happy with the outcome that day, save for you, the unlucky one caught in the middle of all the crossfire, as always.

Jongho remembered how all members of the general's estate servants had been utterly flabbergasted upon learning about the final decision for the wedding plans. They had initially geared up to work tirelessly for their master's first actual wedding, prepared to pour in endless efforts for the grand celebration.

However, they were left appalled by the news. Who would have expected the minister to be alright with such conditions?

Perhaps the importance of solidifying his connection with the great General Park outweighed his concerns for his daughter's momentary embarrassment.

On the day of the wedding, Eunsook stood steadfastly behind her employer, awaiting any orders he might have for her, "Master, is there really nothing else for us to prepare?"

More than the general, nearly every servant felt uneasy due to the lack of decoration as they awaited your arrival. To an outsider, it would seem like just another regular day. Despite the wide-open doors, the estate didn't appear to have much going on at all.

Seonghwa waved her off, sipping on his tea nonchalantly, "Don't make me repeat myself again, Eunsook. This woman isn't worth any of your efforts. Remember, I pay your salary, not her."

"R-right, master." She lowered her head, knowing better than to get on his nerves.

He sighed upon noticing the unusual group of servants lining up by the main hall as if waiting to welcome some distinguished guest, "Don't you all have better things to do? You're all dismissed; get back to your daily tasks if you wish to keep your job."

Shaking like leaves, they all turned to see the head maid nodding at them, signalling for them to do as they were told. Before they angered him any further, all servants dispersed after bowing in unison at their master's direction, "Yes, master."

"Perfect. The minister did mention his daughter favoured simplicity; I'm sure she'll love this." He grinned in amusement, looking forward to the new Lady Park's reaction.

Bowing one final time to your family, you turned and never looked back. Escorted by the kind elderly servant from before, you were led to the palanquin waiting at the entrance of the Jang estate, "This is your ride to the general's estate, young miss."

Surrounded by a throng of people eager to catch a glimpse of the minister's mysterious eldest daughter, you stumbled backwards a bit, feeling overwhelmed. The onlookers were excitedly exchanging the latest gossip about the unusual wedding, where the bride was expected to travel to her new husband's home alone, without a chaperone.

Stepping out of the estate for the first time in more than a decade, you didn't know what to expect. However, this was certainly not it.

As you navigated through the crowd, you reminded yourself of the role you needed to play. Outside the familiar walls of your family estate, you were recognised as the noble eldest daughter of Minister Jang, about to marry the formidable General Park.

You were quite literally the talk of the town.

"Smile, young miss." And you did.

You put on the fakest smile you'd ever worn as you passed by the prying eyes of the onlookers on your way to the waiting vehicle.

As you settled into the palanquin, you looked up to find the servant sighing, ensuring you were comfortably seated for the journey ahead, "Goodbye, young miss. None of us have been allowed to accompany you. You're on your own from now on. Hopefully, the people there will treat you better, the way you truly deserve."

The way you deserved?

You honestly didn't know what that meant.

All your life, you have only ever been treated like a waste of space. So much so that you have begun to believe that was just how things were meant to be. The prospect of being treated with any sort of decency was, at this point, foreign to you.

Nodding, you acknowledged the harsh reality imposed by your father, "Of course, I expected just as much. Thank you, by the way, for the kindness you've shown me. You best hurry back. Don't let them catch you near me, or you'll be punished."

She gave your hand a warm squeeze, "All the best, young miss."

You returned the gesture before the bearers lifted the transport and began walking.

"Goodbye." You whispered, not only to the servant but also to this life you were about to leave behind for good.

With only a thin layer of cloth serving as a curtain on the tiny window of the palanquin, you could hear every word of gossip uttered as you made your way out of this town and to your bridegroom's.

"Oh dear, what a poor thing. Imagine being wedded to that heartless general. He isn't even courteous enough to come take her home. How long do you reckon she'd survive under his care?"

"Can you believe the minister actually agreed to this? Letting his eldest daughter marry in such an undignified way? He seems desperate to get rid of her. Do you think there could be anything wrong with her?"

"She's quite the beauty, isn't she? What a shame no amount of beauty could save her from this ill fate. You guys wanna bet how long before she gets beaten to death by that husband of hers?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your palms against your ears. You had heard more than enough back home; not only did your stepmother and stepsisters insult you for fun, but most servants were also audacious enough to speak ill of you right in front of your face. You were sick and tired of people talking about you like you weren't there.

The continuous mockery and cruelty had worn you down, and you longed for a reprieve from this life of constant torment.

Why me?

Why is it always me?

Is there really something wrong with me?

There must be a reason why the whole world was constantly out to get you. Why did your mother even give birth to you, only to leave you behind in such a cruel world? What was the point of it all?

Thousands of thoughts raced through your mind, and you wondered if the general truly was as cold-hearted as they say. You pondered what he could possibly look like. They say he was as good as the devil incarnate, but could he really be worse than your family?

You were already convinced that every member of your family was the devil's spawn; you simply couldn't imagine anyone being worse than those people.

With all these thoughts swirling around in your mind, you slowly drifted off to sleep amid your journey from one hell to another.

Your eyes snapped open as you were abruptly awakened by a knock on the palanquin, "Lady Park! We've arrived; it's time to get off. Your father did not compensate us for escorting you inside, so this is as far as our services extend."

Lady Park? Who?

Oh.

It's you.

That's your identity from now on.

Rubbing your eyes, you moved to exit the palanquin. You were perplexed to find yourself at a considerable distance from the entrance of the general's estate.

"Forgive us, ma'am. We hope you can manage the short distance to the estate on your own. We're trying to avoid meeting the general, you know how it is."

You blinked, sensing the immense terror in these men. Park Seonghwa really was something else, wasn't he? Feeling sympathy for them, you nodded, "I... I understand, thank you."

They sighed in relief, scurrying to leave as fast as they could. The reality of your situation began to sink in, and you hesitated before taking your first step towards the looming entrance of your new home. The world you once knew had changed, and you were about to step into the unknown.

As you halted by the front doors, an employee of the estate quickly recognised your outfit, presenting a wild sight – a bride wandering about like a lost sheep.

Approaching you cautiously, one of the men inquired, "Miss Jang?"

You nodded in acknowledgement, "Yes, that's me."

Bewilderment painted his face as he scanned the area, "Are you here alone? Where are your servants and palanquin bearers?"

A gulp betrayed your nervousness, and you lowered your head in shame, "I have no servants with me, and the bearers have left."

His eyes widened, "What?" Quickly regaining composure, he apologised, "M-my apologies, ma'am! My name is Jongho, and I'm General Park's trusted aide. We have been waiting for your arrival. Please, let me take you to the main hall."

At first glance, the assistant sensed you were different from all the other noblewomen he had encountered. It astonished him even more to see you standing there all alone. What in the world was happening? Was the minister aware of any of this? There was no way it could be part of his arrangement. After all, this was his daughter, wasn't it?

As you walked through the estate, you realised the deep bows from the servants were unfamiliar to you. In response, you bowed back, only to receive baffled stares. Your shoulders were hunched, and your lack of confidence was evident.

The unusual exchange did not escape Jongho's notice, and he struggled to understand your odd behaviour.

Nothing seemed to make sense to him.

What was the minister planning? Were you really the eldest daughter? Surely, they wouldn't send an imposter, and even if they did, they wouldn't be foolish enough to make it this obvious. Besides, what reason would they even have to do so? It would mean deceiving His Majesty, the King, too, as the minister had indeed promised his daughter to the general.

As you reached the main hall, the assistant had no time to dwell on such thoughts as he presented you to his master, "Sir, the minister's daughter, your bride, has arrived."

Facing the back of a rather youthful-looking man was not the sight you expected. You truly believed the rumours about him being rough and middle-aged, but now you questioned their accuracy.

"You've made it, wife. At last, you're here." He muttered emotionlessly, moving to set down the cup of tea he cradled in his hands before. The sound of his deep voice sent chills down your spine.

With that, he finally turned around, and you wondered if this was the terrifying general that all of the nation feared. You had envisioned him in various ways, but this was not what you expected.

He was... beautiful.

His features were a perfect blend of masculinity and femininity. His body, too, was ideal, slender yet muscular in all the right places. His ethereal appearance took you by surprise. He was perhaps the most enchanting person you had ever laid eyes on. Granted, you hadn't met many people, given your confined life. Still, you didn't need a broad social experience to recognise that he was a sight to behold.

"Cat got your tongue?" He questioned, a raised brow giving his stoic expression an intimidating edge. You immediately grasped why people found him so fearsome.

Feeling as though you'd committed a grave error, you lowered your head and bowed deeply, your heart beating loudly in your chest, "I-I'm sorry, my lord. I shouldn't have stared; th-that was very rude of me. I thank you for accepting me into your household. I will do my best to make myself... u-useful."

Throughout your life, your family has consistently taunted you for being useless. Now, you wished to change that narrative. If you could somehow prove your value here, perhaps you wouldn't face the same mistreatment that haunted you in your old home. After all, you had only just arrived, you didn't want to be beaten to death so soon.

What in the world?

Seonghwa was rendered momentarily speechless. Undoubtedly, you possessed a striking beauty, the kind that justified your father's decision to keep you hidden for so long. But what puzzled him was the unmistakable insecurity reflected in your posture and the uncertainty in your words.

You were nothing like any of his past fiancées, and he struggled to comprehend the reason behind it. You didn't exhibit the expected haughtiness of a noblewoman from a powerful house. Your apparent indifference to his lack of wedding preparations irked him; he wanted a reaction from you but didn't get one.

What the hell was the minister playing at? Were you intentionally trying to be different? What kind of tactic was this? If the plan was to catch him off guard, it was working very well. This won't do; he couldn't be deterred so easily.

Finally breaking his silence with a scoff, he demanded, "Really now? Useful? In what way?"

You gulped, completely unprepared to provide any sort of elaboration, "I-I..."

He smirked, "Let me guess, your script ended there?"

The accusation threw you into a panic, and you gasped, denying any insincerity, "N-no, that's not—"

Waving you off dismissively, he said, "Save it. I won't buy anything else coming from you. Eunsook, take Miss Jang to her quarters."

Oh no, he hates me already.

« Preview of Part 3 »

"Is all this for me? Are you sure?" You asked in disbelief, gazing in awe at the quarters assigned to you. It was spacious, a far cry from the cramped space that used to be your prison cell.

Eunsook bowed apologetically, "Yes, mistress. I know it might not be ideal, but the master insisted on preparing this specific room for you—"

Shaking your head, you stepped inside, "What do you mean, not ideal? No, this is more than enough. Thank you so much." The room had actual furniture and was even larger than any of your stepsisters' quarters back home. Sure, it wasn't necessarily prettier, but at least it was practical.

The head maid struggled for words as she observed you admiring the interior of The Cold Palace. Were you being sarcastic? It didn't seem like it; you appeared genuinely content. She couldn't fathom why the scene before her eyes almost felt... heartbreaking.

"R-right then, let me help you settle in. Do you have a lot of luggage waiting by the entrance?" She asked politely.

You shook your head, "I-I don't... I'm sorry, this is all I have with me." You showed her the nearly empty duffel bag in your hands, leaving her unsure how to react.

"Gosh, mistress! You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Please, uhh... make yourself at home. Just call out to any of the servants around the area if you need any assistance. I'll be here to alert you when dinner is ready."

"D-dinner..?" You croaked, realising you hadn't had a proper meal in who knows how long. You couldn't believe dinner was being prepared... for you. Blinking back your tears, you bowed, "Th-thank you."

"Please, mistress! You don't have to thank me; it's only my job." Panicking, Eunsook bowed even lower before hastily leaving your quarters. She needed to talk to Jongho about your peculiar behaviour. Surely, she wasn't the only one taken aback by it.

Oh my gosh, thank you for 600+ followers! I hope you enjoyed the second part! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3

#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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reticent-writer · 8 months

Note

Hey! Well, actually, I really like the set of stories about Teen!Reader and Alostor where the reader is classified as an assistant, I would like a story that shows how they met and how they get to the point where they consider him an assistant and their confidence to say him dad? Thank you, I'm sorry if the request was very long. (Writing this I remembered the fight Alastor and Lucifer had over Charlie about who she calls Dad, I felt it would still be a good scenario for indignation)

An: I had a storyboard for this exact thing but its messy and if you don't know me you probably wouldn't understand how my mind works but basically i have ocs for this

This took a bit longer because it happens before Alastor and reader dies plus I gave reader a family so...... some basic info

Y/n was born into a family that was picture perfect on the outside

father was a factory worker Mother was a dressmaker

Doll House by Melanie Martinez fits them perfectly

Y/n was the middle child of 5

When Y/n was born the eldest (Atticus boy) was 10, Second eldest 6 (Alma girl), Middle child (y/n)

when y/n turned 4 their parents had twins (Giles boy, Gideon boy)

This is a glimpse into my mind. It might not make sense.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

-1920-

Y/n is 10.

Your parents were perfectionists, especially when it came to the public eye. The L/n family was always the center of attention in your little town, deep in Louisiana.

You and your siblings were constantly dressed in Sunday's best.

"Kids make yourselves look presentable. A client is coming soon." Your mother called out from her 'workspace'. kids aren't allowed in there.

"Can't we just stay in our rooms." Atticus complained from his spot on the couch.

"Get. Dressed."

Atticus groaned as he got up to go to his room. On his way, he knocked on your door before opening it.

"You're supposed to wait for a response, Jackass."

"Next time you curse at me I'm poppin' you." He threatened but you knew he wouldn't do anything, "Mom said get dressed, tell Alma."

He closed the door before you could complain. You heard the shuffling of his feet as he ran to his room.

His room was at the end of the hall. the hall was short with 2 doors on each side. Alma was across from you and the twins were next to her.

Right across from your room is Alma's. She's going into her preteen years and started to spend more time in her room. Your mother says she's adjusting to becoming a woman and needs her time alone. She's also becoming very snappy.

You slowly opened your door to stare at hers. You slowly walk into the hallway and up to her door. You knock three time and wait for a responce. She didn't open the door.

"I heard Atticus." Her voice was horse and strained but you believed what your mother told you.

That was all you needed to get yourself ready.

-------

Your mother made all (except for Alma) of you sit in the living room and wait for the client.

*knock knock knock*

"He's here. You better behave." She says before opening the door with a smile only guests see, "Alastor, It's so good to see you again."

"Good to see you to, my dear and my my look at the children. They all seem to be in good health." He greeted all of you with a smile.

"Hello sir." Atticus spoke for all of you.

"You seem to be missing one." Alastor commented, making your mother chuckle.

"She's been feeling under the weather as of late, come along I need to take your measurements. Atticus, Y/n prepare some tea." She ordered.

Alastor and your mother went to her workspace and she shut the door.

----------

That night went smoothly until your father got home. He didn't like the fact that your mother was in her workspace with a man and the door closed, even if he was a client.

It caused fighting -well more than there normally is anyway- between your mother and father. It's always been easy to make your father mad.

It got worse when Alastor took notice of it he came by more often with the excuse of having gifts for you and your siblings.

He gave you a radio to listen to him when he went on air. Atticus was offered a job at the radio station. Alma got a set of jewelry.

This angered your father more and instead of taking it out on Alastor or your mother he took it out on you and your siblings. Atticus tried to protect all of you.

One day your father and Atticus got into a really bad fight and your brother was shot. He didn't make it.

It was around the same time when a horrid smell started coming from Alma's room. Your parents said she caught a fever and no one noticed but you didn't believe them anymore.

From then on you started distancing yourself from your family and growing closer to Alastor.

--------

When you got older (16) you started working with alastor at the radio station. He taught you how to live life without worry.

He treats you like your a person and not just your parent's child.

Your parents treated you like a decoration. Alastor treated you like a child he didn't know he wanted.

You found out he was a murder by accident. You forgot someone at the station late at night and went back to get it to see blood spattered in the talking booth.

At first you thought it was Alastors so you took a gun that the station had in case of emergencies and followed the trail.

Opening the back door you saw Alastor dragging the body. The two of you made eye contact. Your body moved without hesitation and helped him hide the body.

------

Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

This is long and not what I usually write but it's been stuck in my head for a while.

A/n: I've decided to cut the twins and make y/n the youngest. I had something for them originally but it's better for just Alma, Atticus and Y/n

Art by @ghostly-one

#male reader #female reader #gn reader #child reader #x child reader #teen reader #platonic #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #reticent writes #reticent writer

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holylulusworld · 3 months

Text

Every breath you take (8)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, mentions of masturbation, meet cute (or something…)

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every breath you take (7)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Four weeks later, you got another workday done. You feel your shadow following you as you slowly walk back home. Surprisingly, you’re not scared at all. If your secret admirer wanted to hurt you, he would’ve done it weeks ago.

Your back hurts, and your temples are pounding. Today wasn’t a good day. It was exhausting and drained all the energy from your body. You only want to get home and curl into a ball on your couch.

Lost in thoughts of your fluffy pillows, you almost step onto a cat’s tail. “Whoops, sweetie,” you squeak. One foot still in the air, you stare down at the cat.

“Aw, where did you come from?” You coo and crouch down to pet a white cat. The furball rubs its cheek into your calf, meowing loudly. “Are you hungry, sweetie? Hmm…you look like someone is taking good care of you.”

You carefully look at the nametag dangling from the cat’s collar. “Alpine,” you hum. “What a pretty name for a pretty cat.”

Smiling, you ruffle the cat’s fur. You wonder if the cat ran away. “Hmm, let’s see if there’s a phone number on your tag too.”

You’re about to pick the cat up when a deep voice calls its name. “Alpine, there you are,” the man says. He looks at you, holding his cat in your arms. “Miss, this is my cat.”

“Oh,” you giggle as he looks you up and down. “I thought Alpine got lost.” You carefully hand the cat to its owner. He said Alpine’s name, so you assume the cat belongs to him.

“You wanted to take care of Alpine,” the man suddenly says. He holds out his hand and tells you his name as his cat jumps onto his shoulder to curl around his neck. “You must excuse my cat. Sometimes Alpine just runs off to explore the town. The little punk always comes back, though, knowing the best food waits for them at home.”

He smiles, and your knees almost buckle. Just know you get the chance to drink his handsome features in. Stubbles frame his jaw. His eyes are bluer than the blue sky, and his hair is long and shaggy but well-kept.

“Your cat is very cute.” You giggle and twiddle your fingers. The man makes your heart flutter, and you don’t know why. “I hope Alpine never gets lost again.”

“If Alpine gets lost, I hope you’ll find my little punk next time too, miss.” His deep voice goes straight to your core. “They would be in good hands.”

“Anytime, sir,” you giggle like a schoolgirl. This man has you wrapped around his finger in no time. Your cheeks heat up at the way he looks at you. “Do you live around here?” You’re a little forward, but you cannot let this man slip through your fingers. “So, I can look for Alpine.”

“Bucky,” he says, offering his name again. “Call me Bucky, doll.” Bucky smiles and tells you that he lives in your neighborhood.

You stare at each other for a moment, letting the seconds tick by. It’s the perfect meet cute and you hope to see him again soon. “I have to go now, Bucky,” you say as you step closer to pat Alpine’s head. “Alpine, if you ever get lost, just come around.”

“Thanks again, doll,” Bucky says as he watches you pat his cat. His heart speeds up having you so close. He must take deep breaths to not pounce on you here and now. “Maybe I can invite you for coffee one day.”

“I’d like that,” you hastily reply. “How about I give you my number? If Alpine gets lost, you can give me a call and ask if I found your punk.”

“Yes,” Bucky says, a little too fast. “I mean, that’s a good idea.” He can’t give away the fact that he already has your phone number and all your personal information. “I hope you have a wonderful day.”

“You too,” you say while exchanging numbers with Bucky. “It was nice finally meeting you.”

Bucky watches you leave. He has a big smile on his face because your first meeting went well. Now he’s got the chance to invite you.

You're still jittery from your encounter with Bucky. You pump up the volume to sing along to your favorite song. To hell with your neighbors today. They are loud as fuck most of the time, so you don’t give a shit if you disturb them.

You do a little dance and shake your ass. “Alpine and Bucky!” you giggle and squeal. “They looked so cute together. And his eyes…” You touch your heart and let yourself fall onto your bed. “Blue…so blue…”

Rolling over on your bed, you bury your face in your pillow. “He’s so pretty,” you snuggle into the pillow. “I bet he’d look cute between my legs.” You breathlessly moan his name, letting every letter roll off your tongue. “B U C K Y.”

Bucky presses his hand to his heart. It’s about to burst when you slip your hand into your pajama pants to touch yourself. His name is on your lips the whole time, and he cannot resist. Once again, his resolve crumbles, and he slips his hand into his sweatpants to slowly stroke his cock.

“Y/N,” he murmurs your name. “Baby doll, don't do this to me.”

Tonight, he doesn’t look away. His eyes are glued to the monitors on his walls to watch you touch your sweet pussy only for him. “Make yourself feel good, doll. Soon, I’ll make you feel good... ”

You’re all smiling this morning. It doesn’t matter that it’s another workday or that your colleague is nagging about her job. She can’t ruin your mood.

Your encounter with Bucky still lingers in the back of your mind. Not only is he the most handsome man you've ever met, but he’s also so caring and sweet with his cat. He just can’t be a bad person.

“Why are you smiling the whole time? This job is shit. The coffee is shit. And our boss is shitty.” Your colleague snaps her fingers to get your attention. “Hello, did you even listen?”

“Hmm…maybe.” You shrug. “It’s a nice day, and I won’t let work drag me down. It’s weekend soon enough.”

“It’s only Monday,” she bemoans, looking at you for confirmation. “We have to work for four more days.”

“Only four more days.” You walk away, not wanting to listen to her any longer. Now that Bucky has your number, you hope he’ll call you soon to invite you for coffee.

Part 9

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #tw: stalking #bucky barnes x y/n #meet cute #Every breath you take (8)

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bloop-bl00p · 1 month

Text

“Fîls de joie” What Poison could have been.

TW: Mention of Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Rape, Drugs, Addiction, Manipulation, Mention of Fetish and sex in general, mention of Sex works, Raphielle II don’t go harras him and respect his pronouns

I’m trying to be a writer and I understand writing about taboos and controversial things is difficult. I only write about what I know which is the effect of emotional and physical abuse and religious traumas. Notheless if I’m trying to do something out of my domain of expertise I’ll research it to respect the concerned part of the audience.

Vivienne Medrano said that people who’ve been sexually abused helped write episode 4. Part of me wants to believe it, it’s most likely true, it’s the best thing a writer can do, let knowledgeable people help and not just rely on sites about psychology. But, with how rape and assault are presented sometimes it really feels like she’s lying.

Angel Dust is the only character whose abuse is presented as serious.

Stolas kept belittling Bliztø and kept talking dirty even when the Man was in danger

You cannot tell me that he couldn't hear the gunshot through the phone, in this scene, he keeps making his disgusting speech. Blitzø was practically forced to make the deal as he wasn't in a situation where he could process his thoughts clearly since he was trying to survive

And it was a joke.

Angels Dusk kept harassing Husk throughout the series but he never once apologized. Yes, it stopped after Looser Baby but he should have a mindful conversation with Husk and genuinely say sorry about his behavior.

“It starts with sowwy🥺” What’s the point of having this song if the characters don’t follow through with the lesson?

Those scenes were mostly jokes.

And I haven’t mentioned Sir Pentious getting dragged while being drunk in a sex room, or Moxie being kissed by Succubus despite mentioning he didn't want any of that.

AAaaAaaaAh look at these men, being uncomfortable because they are touched and talked down despite verbally addressing their discomfort! That hilarious!

I want to believe she cares, I’m a fan of these shows, I know it doesn't look like it but I’ve been hooked since the Pilots. Not only was I disappointed at the final result but I was also shocked to learn Medrano is simply just an asshole with too much money in her bag.

Poison failed where Fîls de Joie succeeded:

Before reading any of what I wrote you should listen to it, there are English subtitles. And honestly, it's a good song on its own.

youtube

What’s the context of Fîls de Joie?

A sex worker died and her son is holding funerals for her. You can guess it with the wordplay in the title, Fille de Joie (Girl of Joy) is one of the many ways to say prostitute in French. Fîls (son) de Joie is a way to say that he’s the son of a sex worker.

While sung by the same man, you can notice that Stromae gives us four POVs in the song, the son in the chorus, a client, the pimp, and a policeman.

Everyone besides the son is a hypocrite and relatively an asshole. But even if those verses are self-centered and a pathetic attempt from these men to bring sympathy to themselves, despite never hearing the story directly from the Woman, you can guess exactly how her life was and you sympathize with her. It tells us a story, her story.

This woman was a good mother, and it shows how much the son insisted on leaving her alone, speaking proudly of her despite acknowledging her flaws, and even repeatedly calling her a hero.

But HEY! (But HEY!) Leave my mom alone Yes I know, she’s not perfect, it’s true She’s a hero (She’s a hero) And I will always speak of her with pride

The client is trying to be excused from his actions by stating he’s lonely and addicted to it.

Being alone is not easy And it’s been years since my last time

The hardest part, well, it’s the first time And now what’s hard is to decide when the last time will be

But he’s also verbally violent even stating that as long as he got the money he could pretty much do everything to her.

Maybe this time around we can do it with me insulting her. Yeah everything is negotiablе in life, if you got the money And after all, I’m probably her best customer

With that alone, you can probably guess that it’s not the only violent client she had but she has to endure it because she needs money. Considering that she has a son it’s probably to support his education or something related to her well-being and his.

Then comes the pimp, he brushed off all of his misdeeds by saying he gives them shelter and food and should be grateful for it.

Why does everyone hate me? I’m the one feeding them Their lives would be way more mediocre. Without me, their lives would be shitty

Not only that but his good actions are not for the sake of it, he should have his part of the deals. He doesn't want them to feel like princesses eventually calling them hookers in a very dehumanizing way.

That has a price, Missy. Well duh, in this life, everything comes at a price. Nobody ever told you? They say I’m guilty of human trafficking But 50, 40, 30 or 20% is not nothing

They better not delude themselves and think they’re models Ladies—or should I say: hookers!

Not only does this woman have to endure constant violent behavior from her clients she barely gets enough money despite being the one at work, receiving either 50% or even 20% of what she actually gained. The rest goes to an egocentric pimp that only sees her as merchandise.

While we can technically understand where the policeman is coming from, he’s just doing his job, he’s making a mistake apparent in the other’s verse but much more evident in his.

He doesn't see her as a human.

I know that it’s your job But I gotta do mine, don’t I?

Take back your ID and what’s left of your dignity You’re pathetic, pfft Find yourself a real job!

This song doesn't tell us the story of a prostitute but the story of a financially struggling Mother who juggles between abusing clients and a society that only focuses on the top of the iceberg, the fact that she’s selling her body.

Stromae tries to appeal to our compassion and teach us that it’s important to understand why someone will go their way to sell sex for a few pennies. And rather than rejecting them, we should help them.

Another thing I like about the clip as a whole is the Military. They don’t have a Belgian or French uniform but they wear multiple of them to show that this dehumanization isn’t linked to one country but it’s global, every countries and cultures take part in it, and it needs to be fixed.

What does Poison tell us?

Angel got stuck in an abusive situation and was forced to do sex work for his pimps, it focuses more on the sexual assault rather than his life.

He obliviously regrets his choice resulting in him blaming himself for getting into such a messy situation. A situation he’s seemingly addicted to despite himself, he knows it’s bad but he can’t help it.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself

You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow. Up your poison

The poison can also be a metaphor for the drugs he seems to take directly from Valentino’s brand. A drug he either takes himself or is forced to inhale.

He uses the same substance to forget his situation and numbs the pain while also putting on a false Sex-addicted mask to convey that he’s fine and stay on Valentino’s good side. A direct consequence of his abuse is his addiction and his hypersexuality.

I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear

At the end of the song he’s waisted, traumatized, and finally breaks down as he finally has a short time to process everything that happened. Because here’s the thing, Poison is a fantasy, it’s a mask he puts in to forget the emotional and physical weight that was put on him, hence why it’s so flashy and pretty. The few glimpses of Angel being visibly distraught show that all the parts where he isn't are him disassociating.

See I can analyze stuff and I totally understand what they were trying to do with it but the difference with Fîls de Joie is, that we didn't know the life or personality of The Mother and we learn it through the song.

Angel Dust and Valentino’s relationship is highlighted throughout the shows and Poison doesn't add anything new to the table. The song is POINTLESS. Husk already looked at us and told us that Angel Dust being sexual was a whole persona he puts in.

You can say that the song humanized him since he was basically the “AaahaAH SEX” character but the locker scene already did and… I don’t like the story behind the making of it, why you ask?

Because Vivienne let Raphielle’s work affect her writing.

Visually speaking I believe you can present a disturbing concept with equally disturbing imagery, I understand that the point was to make you uncomfortable and the Dance sequence was Angel Dust disassociating while what was happening was displayed on the screen.

But… can someone explain why they let the work of someone blatantly fetishizing Angel and Valentino's relationship leak into the final product? I don’t even care that Raphielle or Vivienne have a nonconsensual fetish but we can all agree that his content depicting the two men will be inrentently for gooning purposes right? Or am I crazy for saying that?!

Okay, I wanna be clear, Raphielle can do everything he wants what I care about is that his fetishistic content was referenced in the shows.

→ Here’s one of his works. Go at 2:45 if you wanna skip the sexual stuff

→ Click here for more proof

The idea of Angels Dust being “sexy” while his image is projected on screens is from Raphielle II, his work is for sexual gratification but Medrano still referenced it despite Raph being pretty vocal about it.

And that’s not all.

Yes, Vivienne, it’s great marketing to make a cum joke about visuals displaying rape. Because in case y’all forgot all of the sex scenes in the clip are non-consensual from Angel Dust's perspective.

Am I supposed to believe that this woman cares when not only she has a double standard only showing rape and sexual assault as a whole in a bad way when it comes to her favorite character?

Am I supposed to believe that she cares when she associates herself with a fetishizer and references his work in her show?

Why did Stromae managed to make me care about an unnamed fictional dead woman in the spam of 3:57 when she just irked me in 20 minutes with her so-called “well done” representation of sex workers?

Is that really what people call a realistic presentation? How does someone manage to fumble so hard on every aspect of the series, I’m starting to believe that Hazbin Hotel is just rage-bait with the lack of respect she puts into it.

That’s all for me if anyone wants to add anything, the comments are there.

#anti vivziepop #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #hazbin hotel critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #tw drugs #tw sa mention #tw sa implied #tw sex assault #tw sex mention

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starcrossedyanderes · 1 year

Text

Snake Secrets

Summary: Tom finds out about your secret pet. And you find out one of his many secrets, as well

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Behold, a fanfiction literally nobody was expecting! Expect more, because boy do I have Tom brainrot!

It was an awfully cold day in Hogwarts. The landscape was as white as Headmaster Dippet's hair. In other words, it was the perfect time to cuddle up by the fire with your pair of warmest socks. Oh, and of course a cup of hot cocoa.

The green flames waved in the nonexistent wind as you sat down intently with a book you borrowed from the restricted section. A book that was entirely in runes and required a complete translation.

It was when you stood up to head to your room that you noticed something was terribly wrong.

There was something absent from your robes.

The grass snake you had taken in as your pet, was missing.

The reptile was rescued by you a couple of weeks ago after you found it in the snow. The poor thing wasn't even in torpor and was clearly not doing well. But you being the kind person you are (and being Slytherin giving you a soft spot for snakes) you brought it inside and helped it get a few mice in its tummy.

So far the snake has seemed to be rather taken with you as he simply chills out with you and has never shown you any hostility. You have taken to calling it Theo.

Because of today's extra chill, you decided to help Theo warm up by sitting next to the fire while snuggled up in your robes. But the serpent is nowhere to be seen.

Now, this is bad for many reasons. For one, it is terribly cold out for a snake. Secondly, you're fairly certain snakes aren't allowed as pets and the poor thing will probably be killed. And thirdly, you know Parkinson's cat is strutting around somewhere and you know she would just love a fresh kill.

You rush off in a frenzy all around the Slytherin dorms. Is he by the fireplace? No. Did he make his way back to your dorm? Also no. You searched the Slytherin house from top to bottom with no luck.

It is to your horror that you realize the snake must have gotten out of the dorms. You hurry out of the common room into the dreary dungeons and almost speed past the paintings, before stopping in your tracks. Perhaps the paintings saw something?

"Excuse me, sir by chance did you see a snake er.. slither by?"

The elderly, stern woman looked your way.

"Yes, the dreadful thing went down the hall and into the fifth room on the left. Fairly certain it followed that prefect boy."

You raised your eyebrows at this. Why would Theo follow a prefect? And who did he follow?

You bowed and expressed your thanks before racing to the specified location.

~TOM'S POV~

How I manage to forget how unbearable people are, I may never know. Most of the Slytherins had decided to stay in the commons today to stay warm during this frigid day, meaning I could get no peace and true studying in. Thankfully, there was a study room not too far from the dorm that few knew about.

It was as I was getting my books out that I heard a voice behind me. It would seem I was followed.

"Excuse me."

I turned around, ready to deal with the interloper but nobody was to be seen.

What sort of idiot asks for me while under an invisibility potion?

Before I could speak my thoughts I was interrupted by another,

"Excuse me, sir."

It wasn't until my eyes drifted down that I realized who had interrupted my study session.

On the floor was a medium-sized snake with some brown scales, and it was looking expectantly at me. Seems this grass snake luckily stumbled upon the one person in this school who could understand him.

"Yes, what is it, snake?"

The snake slithered closer and it seemed to get the closest thing a snake could to a sparkle in its eye.

"Oh, sir, please help me. You are the only person here who can understand me."

"Well, yes, I am the only heir of Slytherin, after all."

"Oh wow! A celebrity! Please, it would seem I have gotten lost."

"I would say. Don't you know it's Winter? This school makes for an awful place to be a snake, with how many owls there are."

"Oh, you see I was rescued by this awfully nice lady from the snow. She took me in and gave me some tasty mice. She even helped me stay warm and gave me a name! But I caught a whiff of a rat and the next thing I know I'm here! I would like to make my way back to her, I'm sure she's worried sick."

"Yes, that would be quite a predicament. I suppose I could direct you back to her. Now do you know anything about her? Such as her house?"

"Oh, thank you, sir! I don't know terribly much but where she resides couldn't be terribly far from here. Oh, and there's green everywhere in her den."

I hummed at the thought.

"A Slytherin taking in an animal. Now you hear something new every day. Fine then, you may follow me back to the Slytherin commons but you'll have to find her from there yourself."

But it would seem I have to put a pin in that plan as another person opened the door.

~YOUR POV~

I was about to open the door to the study room before I heard something quite odd. It sounded like a set of hisses.

Theo!

Theo must be behind this door!

But I stopped again as another set of hisses came through, and a very different set at that. Was there another snake in there?

Well, if Theo made a friend you were more than happy to meet them. For now, you just wanted to know he was ok. So you bit the bullet and opened the door.

What you found was not quite what you were expecting. Thinking back on it, maybe you should have from what the painting told you.

In this study room stood Tom Riddle, with your Theo on his shoulder. It would seem Tom was the prefect Theo followed, and Tom most certainly found out.

"Oh, Tom. I see you found.. a snake."

Your attempt at keeping the fact that the snake was yours was completely shattered as Theo immediately slithered over to you and started to make his way to your shoulder; acting like your very own scarf.

Tom merely raised his eyebrow.

"Is this your snake?"

You gulped.

"Oh, yes. I know snakes are generally frowned upon here but I just couldn't let him die in the cold. Please don't tell anyone, Riddle. I swear I'll let him outside as soon as it's safe."

Riddle merely hummed at your proposition but your mouth just had to open again.

"Oh, by the way, is there another snake here?"

Tom smirked.

"No, why do you have another snake on the loose I should know of?"

"Oh, no. I'm just fairly sure I heard another snake in her-"

Wait a sec. It was just you, Tom, and Theo in this room. No other snakes.

Now that you think about it, the only person who could have possibly made another set of hisses could be Tom, but he obviously can't talk to snakes.

Unless of course, he can.

Riddle always did have a way with all academics and had gained quite a following amongst a group of purebloods, despite his 'mudblood' status. Although if you recall correctly he did come from an orphanage.

Could it be?

And of course, Tom seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

Your face blanched.

"Well I should be going-"

You heard the click of a lock.

"Why, (L/N)? We just started talking."

You gulped as you turned back to face him.

"I suppose the snake is out of the bag now, isn't it Theo? Now what should I do with you? I can't have anyone blabbing their mouths about this now, can I? But luckily for you, I have quite a soft spot for snakes. Besides someone as sweet as you are probably going through enough, being a Hufflepuff disguised as a Slytherin and all."

He had made you back up to the point you almost fell in a chair.

But despite the situation you couldn't help but slightly flare up.

"Hey, I'm as much of a Slytherin, besides you I suppose, as anyone else in this house. Just because I showed a bit of kindness does not make me any less ambitious and cunning. Besides, I think me being kind to a snake is enough proof as any."

For whatever reason he reached out and barely touched your hair with a hiss and Theo decided to slither up his hand.

"You know, Theo is awfully fond of you. It would be awfully mean to separate the two of you, especially during Winter and all."

Your eyes widened.

"Tom, can I call you that, I swear I won't tell a soul. I respect secrets, I just ask you not to tell anyone about Theo. If you don't tell, I swear my lips are sealed. I'll even make a vow."

Tom waves his hand and you hear the door behind you unlocked.

"That won't be necessary, (Y/N). This just gives me more of an excuse to keep an eye on you now. Be sure no one else sees him on the way back. Surely they will not be nearly as fond as I am of you."

#yandere #starcrossedyanderes #romance #yandere romance #yandere male #harry potter #voldemort #lord voldemort #tom riddle x reader #yandere tom riddle #tom riddle #snakes #x reader

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surielstea · 6 months

Text

A Secretary’s Secrets

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel can’t seem to keep his hands to himself in the workplace.

Warnings: Suggestive, implied smut

2.9k word count

My heels clack loudly on the marble tiles as I race down the hall, a few coworkers giving me an unsteady stare through the floor-to-ceiling windows but I don't pay them any mind while I beeline towards the conference room.

My boss had texted me saying he needed to get out of the meeting he was in, telling me I needed to make up some sort of excuse to pull him from it.

I skid to a stop just before the door and compose myself, regaining my breath. I knock on the door lightly, but there's no way to tell if I'm allowed to enter the windowless room with its soundproof walls, so when I crack the door open and peek my head in I can only pray I’m not intruding.

My eyes snag on an irritated Azriel, not annoyed with me but with the rest of the much older men in the room— who happened to be staring at me like a prize to be won. "I'm sorry to interrupt but," I look to my boss with creased brows. "You have another meeting you need to get to, Sir." I give him a polite smile and his glare on everyone else drags to me, something in his expression softens. "Right, well then." Azriel collects the folders he laid out and puts them back into the briefcase in front of him. "We can reschedule." He looks to the men in the room who all seem too disgruntled because they knew he was lying, it took them weeks to get Azriel to agree to this, and now here I was, dragging him away from it. He shuts the clasps of the briefcase with a click before grabbing it and following me out the door, shutting it behind him.

"Was that okay?" I look up at him with creased brows. "Perfect, my love." He hums, walking towards the elevator at the end of the hall as I rush after him. "I take it didn't go well?" I say, clasping my hands behind my back. "For them, no, it did not." He mutters. "For me? I'm just happy I don't have to partner with them anymore." He sighs in relief. I smile up at him as we reach the end of the hall and he gestures to the elevator.

"You want to do it?" He asks and a childish grin spreads over my face as I press the button, calling the lift.

It only takes a moment before the doors open and we're entering.

"That skirt is awfully tight." He comments and I glance back at him with a smirk while clicking the button that will send us to the top floor. "You don't like it?" I do a small twirl and his jaw feathers, I smile as I notice him gripping the handle of his briefcase particularly tight. "I don't like that others get to see you in it." He answers and I roll my eyes. "You know I'm only yours." I snake my arms around the back of his neck. "I want them to know that too." He looks to the doors of the elevator and I grin. "You know my rules." I remind and he sighs, looking down at me with creased brows. "We're alone now, aren't we?" His large hand comes up to my waist, spanning the area easily. "We are." I nod and push off of my heels, lifting up and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. When I back away he looks up to the floor indicator. He smiles and crashes his lips down onto mine, pushing me back against the wall of the elevator. "We've got ten levels left," He mumbles against my lips and I grin wildly, pulling him closer.

He drops his briefcase so his hand can come under my thigh, lifting me up to be pressed against his chest and the wall behind me. His arm cradles beneath my thighs with his freehand roams anywhere it can find.

His mouth slots over mine, tongue swiping at my bottom lip and all I can do is let him in— parting my mouth just wide enough for him to take control, hand finding my jaw as he angles my face closer, so he can kiss me deeper. His tongue explores every crevice he can find, pushing me harder against the wall like he needed more like our clothes were in the way and he yearned for pure connection. I couldn't deny I wanted anything less either.

His fingers dig into my thigh as I yank him back onto me when he tries to pull away. His hips press hard against the area I needed him most and I let out a soft whimper, hands gripping his neatly pressed suit. "Az," I sigh out when he rolls his hips over mine again, leaving me utterly breathless. "Why don't we just go home? Take the day off?" He mutters into my mouth and gods, did it sound tempting. "We can't just leave," I shake my head and he pulls away. "The meeting room is soundproof." He reminds and I flush pink. "Or if you'd like to bring back old memories we can always just go to my office." He taunts and the color tinging my cheeks only becomes deeper, remembering the way he laid me onto his desk as he pressed into me, I had worn a particularly short dress that day and he couldn't keep his hands off of me.

"We get off a six don't we?" I ask and he gives me a saddened nod. I grab his hand on my cheek and look at the expensive watch on his hand, the one I got him for his birthday last year. "Only thirty more minutes, then we'll go home," I promise and he pouts, I lean in and kiss his frown. "I think you can make it." I rub my thumb along his jaw and he grumbles a curse. "I don't think so." He shakes his head, lips coming to mine again. I smile against the familiar feeling. The elevator dings and I quickly slip from his hold, heels coming back down onto the ground. I adjusted my tight skirt, he watched me as I did so. I looked up at him and he pecked my lips one last time. I grin as he backs away, reaching forward and wiping a film of pink lip gloss from the corner of his mouth.

The elevator doors open and I back up at least a yard. He picks his briefcase up before slipping from the space and out into the hall, I follow a few feet behind him.

He enters his large office, giving me one last look before reluctantly closing the door behind him. I take up my desk beside his door, leaning back in my comfortable chair as I take calls and add meetings to Azriel's calendar for the next half hour.

Azriel and I have been dating for a few years now, but I didn’t want our relationship to interfere with our work life, afraid that I’d get judged by my coworkers for sleeping with the boss, but it was more than that. Azriel didn’t even approach me at work— we had run into each other at a bar and he offered to buy me a drink, it blossomed from there. I doubted they could see my side, only recognize that I fucked my way into this office, that my pay isn’t from my hard work but because of my body. The thought made me want to hurl.

So I didn’t let Azriel show any public displays of affection during work hours— aside from when we were alone, because, gods, the male’s libido was through the roof.

I released a long sigh as I stretched my limbs out, tired from waking up so early, and the fact that Azriel had kept me up all night last night.

I shake my head from the lewd memories and look to the door where I saw Henson collecting his things. “Leaving?” I ask my coworker, getting up from my desk. “Yeah,” The male nodded. “I’m sorry for staying so late, I know you can’t leave until all of us are gone.” He sighs apologetically and I shake my head. “Nonsense, I had to catch up on a few more things anyway.” I wave him off and he nods with a polite smile.

His eyes linger on my bare legs and I shift on my heels uncomfortably, I look back toward Azriel’s office, making eye contact with him through the large window. “Do you have any weekend plans?” He asks and I whip my head back to him with an uneasy stare. “Uh,” I was going to the farmers' markets with Azriel, then we were supposed to go to dinner— and then stay in bed for the rest of the time we had off. The door opens behind me and I know Azriel’s leaning against the doorframe, I can practically feel him staring holes into my back, waiting for my answer. “I have plans with my boyfriend.” I shrug and Henson raises a blonde brow, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t know you were...” He searches for the right word. “Off limits?” Azriel chimes in from behind me and he couldn’t have been more obvious, I could practically feel his bloodlust from here. “Yeah.” He mutters and I smile softly. “It’s odd that you wouldn’t know, we’ve been dating for nearly five years now.” I cross my arms over my chest and his brows shoot up. “I actually, wish he’d propose soon.” I glance back to Azriel with yearning eyes and a smirk curves his lips. “How could he not?” Henson scoffs before quickly sealing his lips shut. I giggle and give him a polite smile. “That’s how I feel.” I joke and he nods with a relaxed smile, backing away on his heel.

“Right, well I hope you have fun with the lucky guy.” He replies with a nod, walking towards the door. “Have a nice weekend Henson.” I give him a small wave and then he’s gone, behind the doors leading to the stairwell.

A wide grin spreads on my lips, now that the branch is finally empty. Leaving just me and Azriel. I turn on my heel with a bright expression. I practically skip back to him. “Propose huh?” His hands come to my hips as he pulls me into his office and shuts the door behind me. I shrug innocently as he waltzes over to his desk, settling in his large black chair that seemed more like a throne.

“Az,” I call after a moment of silence. His head whips to me with wondering hazel eyes and I smile, relieving the tension between his brows. “Love,” He replies and I stroll towards him. “Everyone’s gone,” I inform. “We can go home.” I round his desk and come behind him, sliding my arms down his shoulders and propping my chin atop his. “I’m sorry my love I completely forgot I have this project that needs to be done by tomorrow.” He sighs, leaning back to look up at me, meaning we couldn’t go home. I frown, hands coming to his sharp cheekbones. “Then I suppose we’ll be having a late night in the office.” I smile down at him and he leans up, pecking my lips from upside down. “Come, sit in my lap until I finish.” He whispers against my lips. A smile tugs at my lips and I kick off my heels before straddling over his hips, arms coming around the back of his neck and my head coming to his shoulder, where I begin to trail chaste, reassuring kisses up his neck, my hands roaming his big arms, muscles ripping beneath his shirt.

He grunted out a low sound, I backed away, looking at him quizzically. “You’re very distracting.” He murmurs, hand coming to my thigh. “The sooner I finish the sooner we can go home, isn’t that what you want?” He asks and I nod. “Then no more touching, yeah?” He squeezes my thigh slightly. “Yes Sir.” I nod with a smirk, pulling his chest to press against mine as I rest on him. He grumbled a curse at the nickname, adjusting his hips beneath me.

I knew better than to go against his word, knew whatever work he was doing was important but— was it more important than me? I wrap my arms around him a little tighter, pushing those selfish thoughts away. I release a frustrated sigh, nuzzling my nose into the space between his neck and the collar of his black shirt, getting overwhelmed with the scent of cedar and night-chilled mist, as well as a small undertone of vanilla from when I washed his hair with my shampoo in the shower last night. My fingers weave into his dark waves, not thinking anything of it as I begin to scratch his scalp soothingly, running my hands through his black locks with a soft hum.

He sighs and sets his pen down, hands coming to my waist and lifting me onto the desk. My brows crease as I look at him with a soft expression. “What’d I just say, love?” He reprimands me in a light tone and I look away shamefully. His fingers come to the underside of my chin, tilting my head back towards him. “Answer me,” He raises his brows slightly. “You said not to distract you,” I mutter and he nods, hand moving from my chin to cup my jaw. “Do you think you can behave or do we need to go home?” He asks and I swallow thickly. I knew this was important, but gods did I need him, my body craved him— I was being selfish. “I’ll be good, promise.” I nod, nails digging into the desk slightly with the way his eyes drink me in. “Okay,” His gaze lingers on me for a beat longer before he pulls me back into his lap.

This time I stay purely still, hyper-aware of my movements as well as his, making sure to keep my hands rested on his shoulders and trying to ignore his large hands cradling my lower back, and my hips. His hand had somehow traveled beneath my blouse and began tracing shapes on my bare back, spelling out his name.

He released a soft sigh and leaned back in his chair, my head lifting from his shoulder as I looked at his weary expression. “All finished?” I ask excitedly and he nods with a content smile. “You work so hard.” I hum, hands coming to his cheeks, thumbs rubbing along his jaw. “I think when we get home I have a small reward planned for you.” I taunt and his arms wrap around me tighter. “Why wait until we get home?” He arches a brow and clears the papers on my desk before placing me down on it. “So needy,” I grin, leaning back against the dark wood as he stands, hovering over me, and the gaze in his eyes tells me it’d be a long night in the office indeed.

He wastes no time in pushing my overtly short skirt up, calloused hands gripping my thighs as he pulls me to the edge of his desk. His hands roamed higher, breath fanning over my neck as he sucked and bit at the most sensitive areas he could find, leaving marks I’d have to cover tomorrow. Just as his fingers were about to find my panty line the phone rang, I jumped at the sound and he groaned into my neck.

“Who the fuck is calling me,” He grumbled, my hand slipping into his hair as I tugged him away from the column of my throat. “Answer it Az,” I murmur and he looks at the phone with a cold stare before picking up the device and holding it to his ear

“What?” He gritted in a tone that made me fear for whoever was on the other end of the line. I hear a voice in reply but can’t make out any words. Azriel’s hands leave my body and he sighs, entirely annoyed. “Can’t you ask Cassian?” Azriel grumbles and I sit up on my elbows, watching him as he rolls his eyes at whatever the person on the phone is telling him. “Fine. I’ll be there in ten.” The dark-haired male grumbled before hanging up the phone. My shoulders slumped as I stared up at him.

“It was Rhys, he needs someone to watch Nyx— I’m apparently the emergency babysitter,” Azriel muttered, walking over to the coat rack and shrugging his jacket on, leaving me entirely needy on the desk. “I can drop you off at home first.” He informs while I walk over to him and rise onto my toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“I’ll come with.” I grin at him. His gaze softens. “You don’t have to,” He shakes his head. “I want to,” I reassure. His eyes flick to the floor behind me. “Grab your shoes then.” He smiles and I rush to do as he says, slipping them on and walking over to him with a content expression. “I’ll make sure to treat you nicely all weekend then, okay?” He kisses the top of my ear and I nod. I knew that by treating me nicely, he meant we wouldn’t be leaving our bed.

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the-s1lly-corner · 8 months

Text

Sir Pentious x warm!reader snuggling up!

The absolute chokehold this fucker has on me is insane. I'm blaming my friend @schrodinger-swriter , I've been helping them get their blog started and helping them right hcs, snatching this idea from them too (as if I'm not the one who requested that post) (snorts)

Apologies if my writing is a little off, a little rusty since I've gone on break 😭

Honestly even if hell was enough to keep him warm, that wouldn't stop him from wrapping himself around you!

I like the idea of him just. Melting onto you, letting his hood limply fan out as he let's his body succumb to gravity... its nice, perfect for a lazy afternoon

Going off of how Vaggie says hes slimy, I personally like to hc that hes only really slimy when distressed (which can align!! He was missing his egg boyz!), so unless hes stressing out you dont have to worry about any texture stuff.. which totally isnt self indulgent to someones sensory stuff.. coughs

Always tries to touch you in some way; hand holding, snuggling

Hell he would find an excuse to carry you around

Imagine cuddling with him for the first time and hes just. Laying in front of you trying to find the nerve to close the gap.. its awkward. sure. But theres something endearing about it. I mean you're probably the first person who's allowed him to do this, he doesnt want to screw it up..!

Very tense the first few minutes before loosening up and succumbing to your warmth

Happy rattle noises

#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #sir pentious x reader #sir pentious x you #sir pentious imagine

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mintmatcha · 10 months

Note

Mint, I need Lady in Waiting reader to find out that Sir Aizawa isn't married, I NEED this (I need to caress his weary face in my hands and watch his eyes slowly close as he cuddles into them, like a cat)

It’s normal for him to notice who comes and goes at these events. The vigilance is ingrained deep in every muscle, so much so that his eyes flicker to the door whenever there’s even a hint of movement.

That’s how he notices you dip out, the tails of your dress following behind.

He also notices that someone else is watching you.

“And then the dragon breathed fire. Did you know dragons could do that, mister?” the princess babbles, “That might only be in stories, though.”

Aizawa can barely mutter out a sound as he watches the other man -a squire, servicing under one of the other knights- excuses himself and heads to through door. He knows something is wrong by the way he moves. There’s too much purpose in his stride, a goal set into his brow and a smirk of his lips. It’s not the smile of a secret lovers meeting– its the sharpness of a predator hunting its prey.

“Mister Aizawa?”

Princess Eri tugs at the fabric of his shirt. The princess is especially young compared to the age of her father, only six as of this summer. Guarding her as been some of the easier years of his life, but also some of the most rewarding.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he stands, “I have to check on something.”

The young girl looks at him with wide eyes. “Will you be back soon? You promised we would dance.”

He ruffles her hair as he spins on his heel. He fears she has become his soft spot. “Before you know it, princess.”

He can’t hear your voice until his halfway down the hall and clear of the din of the banquet hall. It’s hushed, but with none of the polite lacquer you usually apply.

“I said I am retiring for the night,” you hiss.

“Perfect - then we shall head to your room.”

As Aizawa peers around the corner, he catches the blonde man reaching for you and grasping at the hem of your sleeve. You immediately rip yourself away, only for the squire to grap your other hand much more firmly.

“Sir Monoma,” you say, “If I have told you once, I have told you a hundred times. My heart belongs to another and I have no interest in you.”

The squire steps in closer, a laugh on his breath. He’s drunk enough that Aizawa can almost smell it from here. “Everyone sees how you long for the man. If he hasn’t reciprocated by now, you are waiting for nothing. You’re wasting your good years on a fool.”

Pity pangs in Aizawa’s chest. Have your affections been this obvious the whole time? He’d only just began to notice your lingering glances and hesitant touches– how long had it been obvious to everyone else? How much time had he spent missing you?

“Just one chance.” The squire tugs on your arm, trying to drag you in, but you hold firm, “I’ll treat you real nice, I swear it.”

The man twists slightly and you yelp.

Aizawa moves without thinking. It’s easy to catch a drunk man off guard. He slides in and knocks his weight off center, and in the instant of surprise, his hard snatches the squires away from yours. With a twist and a pop, the man’s arm folds behind his back and he falls to his knees, a strangled sound in his lips. It’s after, when he sees the fear in your eyes, that the anger sets in.

“If I am ever to catch you touching a maiden again I will break this arm so badly that you will never use it again, do you understand?” The words rip from his throat, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir, or course, sir,” the man spits out.

“Your charge will hear of this.” With a shove, Aizawa sends him stumbling back, “And the king. Now, be off.”

There’s a moment of hesitation.

“I said be off.”

Monoma scrambles down the hall, back towards the party. You watch, rubbing your twisted skin with a dour look and avoiding Aizawa’s gaze. He’s not one to get flustered, but suddenly he is; you smell like juniper and flowers, a summer’s day, and rolled in like a winter’s storm.

“Don’t worry. His wrist is only sprained,” he offers.

“Frankly, I think you should have broken it.”

That surprises him enough that he chuckles.

“Was that too harsh?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

“Thank you, Sir, I don’t know how to repay you-”

Aizawa had discussed moments like these, the little openings that life gives him and he keeps squandering. Hizashi always tells him to be bold and romantic, Toshinori says to be soft and himself. Both seem like bad choices- so Aizawa decides to so something different entirely.

“Give me your hand.” He holds his own out, palm up. “That is all I request.”

You check the hall with a fair amount of apprehension. “Would your wife approve?”

“I am not married.”

“You aren’t?”

“Not even close to it.” He want s to explain the mix up, but the only thing he can focus on are you hands and how they wring your dress, “You can deny me. I’d understand.”

You lift your hand and place it in his, hovering slightly above his touch. Gently, he raises it to his lips and gives it the chastest of kisses. He expects you to pull away, maybe even slap him, but you don’t. Your touch lingers, warm against his skin.

“Are you sure you are unmarried?” you whisper, “You’ll break my heart if you are lying.”

He turns your wrist and presses a firmer kiss into your pulsepoint, then another, and another, trailing up your arm.

“You can ask the king himself.”

Right before he can nestle his face into the crook of your neck, you break away.

“Then, I will,” you say, dipping away and back towards the grand hall, “I will ask right now. I don’t want you to make a dishonest woman of me, sir.”

“Don’t ask in front of the court!” Aizawa is quick to follow, a uncharacteristic blush blossoming across his cheeks.

“Because you’ll be shown to be a liar?”

“Because the king might end up begging you to take me.”

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mysticficti0n · 4 months

Text

It's been so long

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hello my beauties, I was looking through my inbox and saw around like 9 people asking for a Phil Wenneck fic and I rewatched all 3 hangover films and this idea came to my head, my 500 follower special is still in the world as I want it to be perfect. I've wrote this in like 4 hours and only skimmed it so if there any spelling mistakes ignore them- love you 😘

warnings- 2009!Phil wenneck x y/n Y/l/n, (he's single and has no kid either), swearing, mentions of underage drinking, pet names, p!inv!, sub/readerxdom/Phil,

words- 7.9k

"Dylan are you ready?" I called waiting next to the front door, swining my car keys around my finger "Dyl come on you're gonna make us late and mom will kill me if we are late!" I yelled losing my patients

"I'm here" he spoke coming down the stairs "why don't you just don't tell them we were late" I hummed actually taking in his idea

"good idea- well anyways come on" I answered getting into the car. I started the engine and began the short drive to his school, the roads were busy and that meant that was making us later and later

"god- when's your meeting?" I spoke turning to my little brother

"erm.. 5:45pm" he said after looking at a sheet of paper that he pulled from his pocket "and its now...5:45 Y/n"

"Shit-" I spat "oh sorry Dylan" he laughed as I slapped a hand over my mouth "well lets just hope this doesn't take much longer"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

finally after another 15 minutes we made it, hurriedly we walked into the school, Dylan had my hand pulling me through corridors until we made it to room 7L and he knocked on the wood "come in" a voice sounded and Dyl pushed the door open "ah Dylan, you're here!"

"Hello sir" my brother smiles going towards a small chair put out in front of a desk "this is my sister, Y/n" I followed behind him and placed my hand bag on the floor before turning to face the teacher

"hi, I'm so sorry that we're late the traffic was ter-"

"Y/n?" the mans voice cut me off "Y/n Y/l/n?" even in heals I wasn't as tall as him, so as my eyes met his face I knew who it was straight away

"Oh my god Phil- I can't believe it!" I laughed, I knew Phil all through school, from Pre-k to collage, and he hadn't changed a bit since we had left, chiseled jaw, sun kissed skin, his brown short hair flowing effortlessly around his face and a smile that was always imprinted on his lips "you haven't changed a bit Wenneck" I spoke as we pulled from a hug

"Neither have you Y/n- you look great- erm please take a seat" he grinned as he took a seat behind his own desk "woah- well Dylan it's great to see you for the second time, and also you Y/n, great to see you again too"

"how do you two know each other?" My brother inquired giving me a confused look

"Me and Mr Wenneck went to school together, well we basically grew up together, he was one of my best friends" I answered shooting the man a smile, Dylan nodded getting a grin across his face

"okay well- lets look at everything shall we?" Phil pulled open a folder and his finger traced down the page and then tapped "here, so Dylan by the looks of things you are doing amazing in all classes with b+'s and some A's which is great for a boy your age..which is 9 but 10 In a few weeks if I'm right?" Dylan excitedly nodded, a cheesy smile coming across his lips, my hand patted his shoulder seeing his smile grow bigger "and your behaviour... no detentions, or warnings this year little man, much better then when your sister was in school" he joked

"excuse me- you were a lot worse then me, remember what you did to Jake that day?" I asked raising my eyebrow

"he had that coming, but I wont say much more, need to professional" I shook my head laughing at him as we both remembered the day in high school-

_____ 12th grade (1992) _____

Me, Sasha, Lauren, Stu, Phil and Doug sat in the bleachers laughing about whatever random things we could think off "and what about that time Lauren fell over the curb when we went to that party?" Stu laughed getting a slap from the red head

"I was drunk okay- and like 15 so that doesn't matter" she angrily spoke trying to stop the smile from going on her lips. the six of us kept talking while we sipped on our drinks we brought from the lunch hall. Soon the break was over and we all went to head back in, I stood up, straightened my skirt around my legs and fixed my top around my shoulders, and grabbed my bag from the seat in front of me

"Nice rack Y/l/n!" I herd a voice call from the bottom of the steps, I stood straight back up covering my front with my hand and my eyes immediately locked with those of Jake Casey "its alright babe don't need to hide them from me- oh and nice panties too girls, down there had a great view- didn't it boys" he joyed blowing me a kiss as the three guys around him shared a laugh

I quickly stopped down the steps, coming face to face with the creep "what did you just say?" my voice was low as I got into his face, his friends oh'ed; clapping there hands

"I said-" Before he could even finish his sentence my hand slapped across his face "Ow! what the fuck is wrong with you!" I went to walk away until the feeling of his hand fixed on mine "don't you walk away now bitch" he seethed, his other hand wrapped around my waist pulling me onto his body

"Let go of me you perv" I yelled, desperately trying to free myself, but in an instant, Jake lay helpless on the ground, his grip on me replaced by Phil looming over him like a dark storm. Soon Phil's fists crashed into Jake's body relentlessly, each punch harder then the last, and those three friends from before were not to be seen as the dashed across the field to get away from Phil who wasn't stopping his beating

"don't- you- ever- fucking- do- that- again" he warned as he hit the boy again

"OKAY, OKAY, I'M SORRY!" A shattered voice pleaded, but the brunette remained unrelenting. "PLEASE, GET OFF!" we all watched as Stu and Doug forcibly tore Wenneck away from the now bloodied and battered man. quickly Jake pulled himself up whipping around and running off to join his group who were half way across the track. Phil backed off, dusting himself from the dirt that lay on his jeans and fixed his sun glasses to begin back on his head

"Thanks Phil," we said in unison as we approached, the two girls going to stand with Stu and Doug as they talked about what had just happened. "You okay?" I asked, brushing his arm where he had a faint red mark.

"I'm fine. How about you?" he replied, his concern evident. I nodded, showing him the small mark on my wrist. "Does it hurt?"

"No, I'm okay... Thanks for stepping in again," I said again, I got the feeling like it was just the two of us in that moment, drawing closer, Phil's hand landing softly on my waist the warmth overpowering the heat from the Los Angeles sun. "I—" I started, but Stu interrupted with his usual humour.

"Come on, you two! We'll be late if you start a love story now after all these years!" he joked, pointing at us "flirt after class is done" I couldn't help the red from painting my face as the whole group fell into a laugh

"Shut up, Price," Phil said, rolling his eyes as he put his arm around my shoulders instead of my waist, pulling me closer in a simple yet meaningful gesture.

_____ end of flashback _____

"and Dylan- how are you finding school?" Phil asked, grabbing a pen off his desk looking back to him with a warm smile

"good- I have lots of friends and a girlfriend!," Phil oh'd looking to me as a we laughed " and I like my lessons, and I'm in the soccer team!" he talked "and the homework is okay, Y/n helps me a lot because she's smart"

"stop it" I laughed scruffing the young boys fluffy hair

"well that sounds good then, I have some of your books here for you Y/n if you want to have a look through and also his end of year report" I grabbed the small pile of books from the mans hand and began looking through while listening to the two talk about soccer and things, I looked to the page with the title 'my family' and saw a family tree scribbled with crayons and our faces drawn in: Mom, Dad, me, him, Grandma, Papa, our cousins and aunties and uncles too.

"Dylie your work is really good!, especially your family tree, you've got everyone!" I cheered. After I finished looking through all the pages I set them back on the desk and Phil finished up his convocation with Dylan

"is there any questions you have Y/n?" He asked looking to me, his face warm

"I don't think so, I mean he's doing great and thats all I can really ask for, he seems to have a good teacher too" I spoke seeing Phil smirk at me shaking his head

"great, that ends this then- Dylan, Y/n thank you for coming to see me and I'll see you on Monday little guy, and don't forget the trip money" Phil stuck his hand out to my brother who's little hand shook it back and I watched as the blonde waved walking to the door

"Y/n! Sam's out there can I go say hi?" he asked excitedly looking to his friend out side the window

"sure" I replied seeing him hurriedly open the door, he shouted a quick good bye to 'Mr Wenneck' and quickly left us behind in the class room "again sorry for being late Phil- just everywhere seemed to be busy" I laughed grabbing my bag from the floor and placing it on my shoulder then getting Dylans report off the table

"its fine don't worry- you two were my last appointment anyways, and as its you I don't mind either" he smiled coming round the front of his desk and leaning against it "but honestly Dylan is a great kid, I don't even like teaching but kids like him make it worth it you know" I nodded listening to him

"I never thought you be a teacher you know, I mean you hated school" he laughed rubbing the bridge of his nose

"Yeah I know but life happened" he said looking back to me "erm well I was wondering- do you wanna go out for dinner tomorrow?" I was a little taken back, in a good way though "it's fine if not, but we could have an actual catch up you know? I mean I haven't seen you since we were 20 ish and were now old "

"thank you very much for reminding me- but yeah what time?" I agreed, I watched as a smile spread along is face

"I'll come pick you up at 8?" I nodded "cool well erm- I'll see you tomorrow Y/n" he stood up leading me to the door, before I left I pulled him into another hug

"see you tomorrow" I whispered before letting go and walking out to grab Dylan who was happily chatting to his friend and his mom "hi Carol" I waved

"hey sweetie, how'd it go?" she asked

"good, Dylans doing really good- how's sam doing?" she shook her head and her smile dropped "oh"

"I got told he beat up another kid the other day- I don't know what to do, I mean when Charlie was younger he was nothing like this, and I remember when you were little and your little friends, you guys were never in fights- well not when you were 9! but Sam always is" her voice was full of anger

"mh, It's very odd- must be something triggering him" I spoke

"maybe I'll take him to see your mom when she's back, she's a therapist so maybe she can get to the bottom of it" Carol laughed "aways we must get off- Samual come on" the two boys said their goodbye and we walked out

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"Night Dyl" I whispered leaving his room, I walked down the stairs to the living room, falling onto the couch and flipping on the tv to a random channel, I couldn't get over that Phil was teaching my little brother, my old best friend teaching my brother... life was weird. It reminded me, I needed to get someone to Have Dylan over the weekend, I knew he would enjoy staying at our grandparents so I picked up my phone and began calling my Grandma

"hello Rosie" she answered

"hi Grandma, how're you?"

"good poppet, is everything okay?"

"yes thank you, I was just wondering if it was okay if you had Dylan tomorrow night please? I met up with an old friend, well actually do you remember Phil?"

"Oh yes Phil Wenneck, of course how could I forget Philly! he was always with Doug, Stu, you, Sasha and Lauren wasn't he" I hummed agreeing

"well I found out he's Dyls teacher! and were going out for a catch up tomorrow night"

"aw thats lovely, of course we can have Dylie, Sofia and Ryan are sleeping tomorrow so its no issue"

"thank you so much, I'll bring him at about 5:30 if thats okay"

"yep thats fine, see you tomorrow lovie"

"night, love you" I came off the phone and saw a dot on my messages, I clicked on seeing -Phil- 1 new message-

'Hey Y/n, just checking (and I hope this isn't weird) are you at your moms house, just I know you're watching Dylan for the two weeks, he was telling me x'

'Hi Phil, yeah I'm here, and bless him I had a feeling he'd be telling everyone, he was saying we were gonna throw a party and everything x' I answered

'I mean if they were anything like your parties, I'm coming x' I laughed

'yeah gonna sing bah bah black sheep with the kids? x'

'of course, it's my favourite song x' I rolled my eyes

'I bet- see you tomorrow Wenneck x'

'night x'

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"thank you so much again for having him Grandma, papa" I crouched down pulling my brother into a hug "I'll come get you tomorrow, go have fun and I'll call after okay, before bed" he nodded hugging me back then running to play with our little cousins "see you later" I hugged my grandparents then quickly drove back home to shower and get ready for seeing Phil.

I decided on a black dress, it wasn't to much, just around my thighs, some black heals, smokey dark make up and a dark red lip, my hair straightened down my back and some silver jewellery. I sprayed L’Interdit Rouge and grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder

I went into my kitchen, hurriedly pouring myself a glass of water and chugging the glass trying to suppress the anxiousness I felt rising in my stomach. The sound of the door bell rang through the hall and into the kitchen, I took one more deep breath before walking and opening up the door. I pushed the handle down and pulled the door open

"Hi Phil" I sounded as my eyes met him, he was dressed in a black suit which blended into the night perfectly, it fit his figure amazingly, hugging his muscles in all he right ways, his button up was only done up to the third one and the last two were left open showing of his toned chest, my eyes reached his face, his hair messed graciously behind his head and his sun glasses perched on his head "you look amazing" I spoke not realising I had been staring doe eyed for what felt like a life time

"I could say them same- look at you" he smiled "oh I brought you these" from behind his back he pulled out a bunch of roses, blood red- my favourites

"Phil! you didn't have too- these are beautiful!" I giggled like a child being given a lollipop

"almost as beautiful as you" I herd him chirp, my gaze snapped back to him

"careful" I laughed "come in, I'll grab a vase for these" I walked away hearing him follow behind after shutting the door

"god this place hasn't changed at all- holy shit I feel 17 again" he breathed coming into the kitchen "Its the place I first took a shot how about that" he reminisced

"yeah mom kept basically everything the same though she was going to change it all, then Dylan was born in 2000 and then she just kept it this way" he hummed leaning agains the kitchen counter

"how come your mom had Dylan- is that a weird thing to ask?...I- you don't have to answer that" he awkwardly laughed

"oh well Mom and Dad divorced erm 97' as you know, and mom got with this guy called Michel and then accidentally got pregnant, and we didn't know if he would make it because obviously mom was a lot older then most women who have children but they both made it and Dyls 10 soon" I explained

"oh wow, your moms a strong lady so I get why she made it through, I think thats why I was really shocked to see you yesterday because his name isn't Y/n/l Its Lee"

"yeah, I mean I didn't even know you were his teacher because he only ever called you Mr W or Sir" I spoke "and mom wouldn't have actually met you because this was his first parent teacher thing huh"

"yeah, anyways not that this isn't great we need to get going" he spoke checking his watch "so if you please" I walked towards the man and linked my arm with his as he led us out the house. Phil pulled open the passenger door for me and I gently settled myself into the leather seat, I watches as he went over to his side and slid in "ready?"

"Mhm" I smiled as we began our drive

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The car stopped at a restaurant with the name 'Le Rouge', The two of us stepped out the car and immediately my arm hooked on his "wow this looks- beautiful" I breathed. The door was opened by a tall man who shot us a quick smile as we stepped through the threshold. To say I was taken back was an understatement, a soft, red glow washes over the space, enveloping it in an aura of intimacy. The dim lighting, like flickering candlelight, shone a warm hue. The décor, a careful balance of simplicity and refinement, features rich dark wood accents and sumptuous red velvet curtains that drape gracefully, adding to the sultry, moody ambiance.

"Good evening Sir, Madam- how may I help?" a sweet looking girl cooed, her hands quickly grabbing a paper that lay in front of her

"hi, I have a booking should be under the name Wenneck" the girl nodded checking down the paper until her eyes seemed to find the name

"okay- if you two would like to follow me" the blonde began trotting through the many tables full of customers until she stood next to a small dark wood table for two, one candle and flower sat as the centre piece and two menus lay in our places "Erin will be your waitress tonight, and she'll be over soon to take your orders but would you like to get started on drinks?" Phil looked over to me giving me a quick nod telling me to go first, hastily I lifted the drinks menu from the side and scanned the paper

"I'll have a....Cabernet Sauvignon please" I answered seeing her write it down quickly, I turned to look back to the man sat across from me who's eyes flickered down the same menu as me

"make that a bottle and two glasses please" soon the girl disappeared with our orders "so what do you think?" Phil asked, his gaze landing back on me

"you've out done yourself Wenneck, it's gorgeous in here- I bet this place is really expensive though so I can pay-" before I could even finish the brunette chirped rolling his blue eyes at me

"shut up- I asked you out. I pay. let me treat you, I haven't seen you in years so this is the least I can do for making up for the fact that you haven't seen my face in so long" he smirked fluttering his eyes

"oh yeah of course" I laughed pulling my chair in closer "so, how have you been since I last saw you, and I don't mean from just yesterday" I gave a warning look hearing him titter

"well, we all left school I was going to work with dad in the car place but we got into this huge argument and he said I was choosing the 'easy way out' so I proved him wrong and became a teacher, then I got a job at Dylans school in 2007, been working there since, but erm I was with this girl after we left school- her name was Shannon but erm she cheated on me and I haven't actually been with anyone in god 6 years this year" the man sadly laughed "but you know I'm doing okay, I have a home and a job so thats all that matters" without really thinking about it my hand reached across the table taking his softy, I watched as his sad smile got replaced with a warm one, his eyes growing softer "what about you, what have I missed?"

"ah well- we left school obviously and I started working for a few people as a PA, worked on a few sets during like 2004 and 5, but it wasn't really enough money so changed and stared working at this bank place 2 years ago. I can't say I love it but I bought an apartment West Hollywood but I've taken the next 2 weeks of to watch Dylan but I'm looking for a new job again, hopefully back on the PA thing because I enjoyed that" he nodded, listening to every word "I was also with a guy, Jackson for a good few years but we broke up on my birthday actually, he said he was bored and needed a 'new spark' so I guess I wasn't that interesting to him" I chuckled, I looked down to my one intwined hand, the feeling of Phil's soft padded thumb swiped on my skin

"who needs those people though, I don't doubt that one day a good guy will see you and think 'damn, she's beautiful, talented, interesting, funny, beautiful'"

"you said that twice" I spoke in almost a whisper

"Its because I mean it" I felt my face heat up a ferocious red colour, before I could say anything else a wine bucket was placed onto our table and two glasses placed with it "ah thank you" Phil spoke with a smile, our hands broke away leaving mine cold. "do you want some?" the blue eyed man spoke, his voice filling my ears bringing me back to reality, I hummed holding my glass to him, the work popped and soon the red liquid began to flow into the glass until it nearly reached the rim, he filled his own then steadily placed the bottle back on the ice "to old friendships" his hand clenched around the neck of the glass, lifting it up

"to old friendships" I cheered, I let the wine cool my throat, taking all the red blush away with it, I could still feel the pricing blue gaze watching me over the table, not in a menacing way- but a adoring one. I tuned my attention back to Phil whose eyes fixed to mine "what are you going to have?" I asked seeing him look to his menu

"stake maybe, or lamb- you?" I checked down the list, until my eyes found my favourite "let me guess- filet mignon?" I nodded, a grin spreading on my lips "still know you well then"

"well I mean its been a good few years Wenneck- you sure?" I pondered, chewing my lip "do you really know me?" my voice lowered, and I couldn't help but watch his expression falter from being confident to slowly becoming more soft

"whats changed about you- tell me love" hearing the nickname nearly knocked the breath from me, something about hearing It in his voice, from his face, on his tongue

"you'll have to find out yourself" I challenged, his stare narrow

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the meal was one not to be forgotten, and the bill was another thing I would also never forget "Phil stop it- split it with me, you can't pay $250!" I snapped trying to pull the bill from his grasp

"Y/n I am a grown man with my own money- fuck off let me do this- I'll be paying tonight" he demanded

"next time I pay" I sassed, shoving my card back into my pocket, I watched as his eyebrow lifted, questioning my words

"a next time huh?" he responded with a smirk, I shook my head staring away from his eyes as he paid the bill "come on gorgeous lets go" He was killing me- the nicknames, the watching, the smirk.. I felt like a teenager again... the first time I fell for the stupid boy

"watch it Wenneck" I quipped, he brushed me off by taking my hand and leading me from the building, it was a warm night, the sky still a ink blue but a darker colour than before

"wanna go see something?" Phil's voice broke through the silence "it's only down there" I followed his out stretched arm that pointed to a small cleaning in some trees, in my head I kept thinking of the negatives but in my heart, as cheesy as it sounded, I knew if I was Phil I would've been okay.

"okay" I agreed and soon we began moving toward the narrow entrance, he pushed some branches out the way with his free hand, his other still softly holding mine "where are you taking me?" I asked, a soft laughter leaving after I saw him look back with his signature smirk. Soon we stopped as we came to a opening

"welcome to the most cozy place" I looked round the mans figure to see a small pond littered with lily-pads, and pond grass, lit by the moons glow, it was very romantic and every girls dream place to sit after a night like ours

"Phil how do you find these places?" I questioned taking in the view, he gleamed shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the floor next to the water "careful it'll get dirty"

"Y/n it can be cleaned- just sit down" without wasting anymore time, I perched myself next to him on his jacket, our legs bumping as we relaxed into the floor. I stared out in front of me, watching the small movements off the trees as the wind blew past, and the ripples that bounced in the water "tonight has been so amazing Phil, thank you" I said sincerely, my look changing to face him "really" in this light he looked heavenly, his outline illuminated by the light cascading from the sky, his eyes shining into mine, it felt like it was just us again in the world, only me and only him

"Y/n, can I ask you something?," I hummed, slowly nodding my head because no words could leave from my lips "can I kiss you?" every good emotion began wizzing around my heart, butterflies flitted in my stomach and my brain turned hazy, none of it felt real

"please" I breathed, feeling his gentle touch as his hand caressed my cheek, drawing me closer to him. My heart raced as I wrapped my arms around his neck, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace. Slowly, I settled onto his lap as his other arm pulled me onto him, our bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Our lips met in a tender kiss, igniting a spark that had been smoldering between us for years. A sweet hum escaped my lips, a melody of longing and relief, as the weight of unspoken words lifted from my shoulders..

Reluctantly we both pulled away, taking in each other movements, my lips curled into a smile which Phil quickly mirrored, his hands finding my hips as he sucked for a breath "god I've waited so long to kiss you Gorgeous" he muttered, the pads of his fingers drawing random shapes as he spoke "why did we wait so long?" he questioned

"Phil, kiss me again" My voice trembled slightly as our mouths met once more, a surge of desire mingling with passion, flooding my senses. In an instant, Phil shifted our positions, his form now looming above me, casting a shadow over us, swallowing us in darkness.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this," his words pierced through the intensity of our kiss, but I couldn't bear to be apart from him for a moment longer. With urgency, my hands pulled him closer, silencing any further words with the press of our lips. His knee parted my legs as he leaned further into me, his wight laying on his arms that caged my head between them; his lips slipped from mine and began traveling down my jaw, to my neck, to my collar bone

"Umph Phil" I whined unexpectedly, my eyes fluttered open seeing the brunettes gaze shift to a darker, hungrier side, his lips began another assault on my skin, sucking and peppering me in little butterfly kisses as I tried to stop myself from making any noises that the outside world could hear.

Phil pulled away, smiling at the view of me, I copied his expression as my hand carefully tucked back a fallen piece of hair "you should let me take you out more often" he laughed softly, his hands found mine and pulled me up to meet him, my legs felt uneasy from the moment but I forced myself to stand although my head only met his chest, the hands that once lifted me began to drag up my side until the two cupped my jaw "you okay?"

"yeah... I think just still in shock, I don't think I've ever been kissed like that in my life" he hummed, a suggestive look painting his features "what?" I asked looking up to him

"I just think you look really hot right now," he spoke with a amused smile "like, really hot" Phil repeated, his head bent so our mouths were basically exchanging air "can I kiss you again- please" It sounded almost like a beg but how could I refuse?

"you don't need to ask" I replied as once again my arms tangled behind his head. Though this kiss felt different than the last ones: hungrier, more passionate, wanting, pleading for more. My one hand knotted into his hair pulling a handful of strands causing him to lift slightly from the kiss

"ugh- fuck Y/n, don't do this to me" his voice croaked in a moan "or I'll take you home right now" I felt a rush of excitement run through my veins hearing the words leave his mouth

"do it then" I commanded pulling away to stare into his blue eyes that seemed midnight black all of a sudden. In one swift movement Phil lifted his jacket off the floor and grabbed my hand leading me back out the wooded area and to his car, the lights flashed as we climbed in and in seconds the engine roared. I couldn't stop my face from heating up as I watched his knuckles whiten from their grip on the wheel as we turned out from the restaurant parking lot back to my house.

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His hand hadn't left my thigh the entire drive home, it drew small circles on my bare skin and I couldn't help but fall into the rhythm, I watched as we turned into my street and the car came to a abrupt stop on my drive way. We exited the car and rushed to the front door, I dragged my keys from my purse and slotted them into the lock and after a few tries the door swung open

I spun around to face Phil, my heart pounding with anticipation as my arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. Through the doorway, our bodies collided, a rush of heat and longing coursing between us. My back met the wall, but the world around us faded as our kiss deepened, the intensity building with each passing moment.

Our shared desires spilled into the air, mingling with the soft sounds of our breath and the gentle rustle of clothing. In the haze of passion, we fought for control, our bodies moving as one in a dance of longing and need. As we finally broke away, gasping for air, our faces flushed with desire, I closed the door behind us, turning my back to the man that now stood behind me, softly I felt his hands creep around my sides, his breath climbing up my neck

"I need you gorgeous" he whispered, his lips brushing the lobe of my ear, without another thought I grabbed his palm and led him up the stairs. I felt like a teenager again, messing around with my crush for the first time. We made it to my room and I knocked the door open but soon my attention was torn away and all I could think of was Phil, Phil Wenneck who's hands were holding my body as his lips pushed against mine, Phil Wenneck who was laying me on my bed and holding himself above me. Phil Wenneck.

"Take this off me," I whispered, my gaze locked with his, my voice dripping with desire. As he obeyed, his fingers trailed down the small straps of my dress, exposing my chest to his hungry gaze. I felt a shiver of anticipation race down my spine as his touch ignited a fire within me.

His hands caressed my skin, teasingly light, sending sparks of pleasure dancing across my body. I watched in rapt fascination as he cupped each breast, his touch firm yet gentle, kneading them as if they were dough in his palms

With a soft groan, his lips left mine, blazing a trail of kisses down my body, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. I arched my back, offering myself to him, my breath hitching as his mouth hovered tantalizingly close to my aching nipples.

As he took one between his teeth, a sharp gasp escaped my lips, pleasure and pain intertwining in a heady mix. "F-Fuck," I hissed, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation coursing through me.

"Like that, don't you?" Phil's voice was husky as he released me, his gaze smouldering with heat. I could only nod, my body trembling with need, words failing me in the face of such intense pleasure. He repeated his actions, each touch sending me spiraling further into ecstasy. His tongue traced delicate patterns on my skin, leaving me trembling again and again, his kisses a gentle reminder of the tender passion that consumed us both.

I began to feel the heat between my legs grow hotter as I watched him draw himself down my body, my dress slowly coming all the way off and pooling at my ankles leaving me in just my black thong "you look- just woah" he grinned, his hand petting mine

"you still have too much on" I flirted sitting myself on my knees in front of him, I let my hands trail up his front till I met the first button and I pushed it undone, then the next, then the next until his top was bare revealing his tanned torso, and tanned muscles that decorated his front. I pushed myself closer to the man, my lips pressing against his peck until I reached his collar bone, my tongue poked out from between my lips as I licked a line up his neck to his ear "I need you to take these off for me" I sighed

"do you?" he purred, standing from my bed his hands unfastened his buckle then popped the button letting the material fall to the floor leaving him In his boxers which outlined his boner leaving nothing to the imagination "gonna keep staring or come do something about it" he asked with a smirk

"not if you act like that" I answered slyly as I kneeled at the side of my bed in front of the man, his hand reached for my jaw propping my mouth open, dipping his thumb into the wet

"be a good girl and lay back for me, hm gorgeous" I pulled off his finger with a pop and lay myself down, my thighs parting to show him stood just in front of me, his palm stroked my heat, the friction sent waves through my body "so sensitive already" I hummed, trying not to grind myself against his flat hand. His fingers dipped behind the material and hooked the thong away, pulling them down my thighs then to the floor, softly his hands once again parted my legs, showing him my already went cunt "look at that" he praised

"please do something" I begged, in a matter of seconds I felt his fingers brush over my skin, a few digits pushing through my folds "agh- oh Phil" I whimpered at the touch

"god if you say my name like that again I'll cum right fucking here" I smiled looking up to the man who's finger began slipping down my wetness again "deep breath baby" he spoke. I sucked in a breath which was harder then anything I had ever done before then felt a finger push through the threshold, dipping into my cunt

"Angh" I cried as Phil began a agonisingly slow pace, the pad of his finger narrowly brushing my want "a-another- another please Phil- oh please" I pleaded

"already? such a good girl gorgeous" I nodded but soon my body was stuttering at the feeling of another digit sliding in

"Nagh- tha...nk you" I breathed, my hips moved involuntary at the pleasure- my eyes screwed shut, I hadn't got the power to force them to look at him, my voice was stuck in my throat as the knot in my stomach tightened "Phil-holy... I'm gonna-" before I could finish my own sentence I cut myself off "Ooh- fu....fuck fuck my god Phil" I called, my hands blindly reached for something to hold, trying to stable myself but I couldn't reach a thing

"you're okay- come on you're alright" he cooed, his free hand stroked my head as I slowly came down from my first high, my eyes finally opened and my first look was at Phil "there we go, hey gorgeous" he smiled

"hey" I greeted back, our lips connected again and I couldn't stop my fingers from going back to his hair, small pieces caught between each digit as I pulled him closer

"hmph- Y/n gentle with me" he joked breaking the kiss, I rolled my eyes turning my gaze away from his face to his body that sat above mine, I couldn't help but notice the tent in his boxers only looked larger. Slowly I lifted my leg letting the bulge sooth over my knee "agh.. mh you think your funny don't you?" he taunted

"no- I just really want you inside me Phil" I purred as both my hands held his face "please Phil" the man moved quicker than I have ever seen a man move before, his boxers were pulled away from his hips and down his legs revealing his length. My eyes widened- he was huge, no wonder girls in school jumped at the chance of a night with Phil, now I understand.

He knelt behind me, lightly pumping his cock before brining it up to my entrance "your safe word is Mexico okay- you say that and we stop" I murmured an 'okay' and he started to come closer, his warm tip stroked through my split "ready?" I hummed, steadily he pushed in, breaking through my entrance inch by inch before pulling out and repeating his action until he was fully sank into me "god baby you're so tight" he grumbled, I nodded not being able to speak because of feeling so full "want me to start moving now?" he spoke breaking the silence.

"mhm- slowly, you're so big" I welled watching a smirk plaster his face, Phil agonisingly pulled back until only his tip sat in me "Phil don't tease" I whined "need you to...fuck me so good" i was breathless already

"no problem gorgeous" he snarked before slamming his hips back and his full length pushing back inside me, I yelled at the force as he found a pace, our bodies hitting together in a rhythm only gods could create

"Oh Phil...Feels so good in me" I chattered, eyes fixated on him, I couldn't tare my gaze away as his shoulders tensed to keep himself up, a sheen of sweat building on his skin, his hair becoming unruly on his head as stray strands fell

"You feel so good around me- ugh fuck Y/n- such a good girl Y/n" hearing my name fall from his mouth only made me needier, it sounded so right

"fuck Phil- I feel so fucking good, shit- you fill me up so well Wenneck" I panted, my hands digging into his shoulders, nails scratching his skin

"fu-fuck you say it so well baby, I only wanna hear my name out your mouth" he moaned pressing open mouth kissed on my neck "I feel close- are..are you?" his voice trembled

"mhm- I was trying to hold off for you" I spoke, to brain numb to stop the truth, I could already feel his cock twitching inside me as he pounded my g-spot tirelessly

"cum with me- fuck baby" he hissed as I felt his thrusts get faster, our moans started to sync, I never thought I could fall for Phil, but seeing this side, hearing his voice, his moans, his venerability, I couldn't help the feeling "Y/n I need to come so bad" he begged

"shit- i...I- Oh my god" I hiccuped feeling the tie in my stomach rip apart and a swarm of warm blanketing me everywhere, then the sensation of my walls being painted with ropes of cum as the man above me faltered

"mgh- ah, holy fuck" he gulped, his head falling to my shoulder "I've never came that quick in my life" a small laugh escaped as he caught his breath while pulling out

"neither...Jesus Phil" I breathed, our eyes met again and we both had a new glow about us "you look pretty like this" I spoke brushing my fingers through his hair

"you've always been beautiful but right now," his lips tenderly met mine, the kiss was sweet and meaningful making the moment only better "Y/n can I say something?"

"yeah" I agreed, he shifted to be lay next to me, his palm sliding down to rest in the crook of my waist "what is it?"

"I really love you, I did all through school and, when we left I regretted not telling you but yesterday, seeing you and all, then today, I remembered how I felt," I blushed, hiding my face with my free hand "that was so cheesy but I don't even care anymore" he chuckled

"I really love you too Phil" our lips caught each others again, smiling into the make out, we pulled away letting our foreheads rest against each others "we waited so long"

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My eyes fluttered open to my sun kissed room, the light stripping against my walls, I hummed letting my head nuzzle back into Phil's chest where I'd been lay since the early hours of the morning, my fingers drew up his stomach and scratching softly over his peck, I felt him stir at the touch, pulling small faces at the feeling "what are you doing" he yawned

"nothing" I hummed pressing a kiss to his skin "but it is time to wake up" he sighed rubbing his face with the hand that wasn't wrapped around my waist. Finally he opened his eyes and faced me, though I had already been watching for a while

"morning gorgeous" he sounded

"morning Phil" he pulled me close laying a kiss to the top of my head then propping his chin against my forehead "I've gotta get Dylan soon by the way" he hummed again, I could tell he was falling back to sleep, so quickly I sat myself up pulling the cover away from our bodies

"Y/n come on! five more minutes" he sneered "please baby" his voice begged as morning still lay thick on his voice

"no, come on Wenneck- I remember when we were kids you would say that then not move for another hour so up" I demanded taking his hand and pulling him from the bed. He rose up, towering above me

"you're mean" he commented as he loomed down on me

"but you told me you loved me last night" I played, my finger teasingly running down his front

"I do," he grinned leaning closer "but I also think you're mean" I rolled my eyes wondering away as he sat himself back on the bed falling back.

Quickly I got showered, washed my face and brushed my teeth and changed into jeans and a jumper in a few minutes, Phil on the other hand had just managed to brush his teeth and stick his shirt back on as he continuously groaned about being awake so early on a Sunday, though it was 11:30am

"okay well I need to go get Dyl now, he's got a soccer club to get to at 1 and I need to clean the house and things" I moaned, leaning my head against Phil, soothingly his hand ran down my back comforting me as he laughed

"why don't I stay and help? I have nothing better to do, and I can stay with you a bit longer, make dinner, be like another date" he asked, and I couldn't help but smile at his idea, having him around would make things better

"sounds perfect, now come on we've gotta go get Dyl"

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My hand pushed the doorbell and soon enough the shuffling of slippers appeared on the other side "afternoon sunshine" my grandma beamed pulling me into a hug "and who's thi- Oh my lord, Phil Wenneck, look at you!" quickly she came out grabbing his face, inspecting all his changes "Philip aren't you so handsome!" she cooed

"thank you, you look lovely yourself, haven't changed a bit" he spoke as she stepped away laughing

"stop it you, anyways let me grab Dylan, he's been playing with the dog all morning- Dylan Y/n's here!" she called wandering back into the house

"Y/n!" a voice called as the noise of shoes tapped down the hall way and soon hands wrapped around me "you didn't call last night like you said!" he complained though still with a smile on his face

"I'm sorry, I got a bit busy last night Dyl" my gaze changed to Phil who was stood smiling at us

"Mr Wenneck?"

#phil wenneck #phil wenneck x reader #Phil wenneck x y/n #hangover #hangoverpart2 #stu price #Hangover3 #Bradly cooper #brandlycooperfic #2009 #teacher love #male teacher #00s #2010 #Bradlycooper #starisborn

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seonghwaddict · 1 year

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★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 006 ] that's for the breasts, sir.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. none? word count. 2.7k

　　　　　　　　chapter v // chapter vi // chapter vii

Before the four of you could finally commence the journey to the mall, you had to go through one small but very loud obstacle.

As soon as Yunho pulled off from the side of the road, a body flung itself across the front of his car. It seemed that Wooyoung booked it out of the house and locked the front door from the outside, which they apparently only had two keys to—one with Wooyoung and the other with Hongjoong.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of the thud, but after realising what it was, couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as the others groaned. You looked to your right at the house, catching a glimpse of Mingi’s leg sticking out of the kitchen window in an attempt to escape and recapture Wooyoung.

“You’re gonna take me with you whether you like it or not!” His voice was muffled, but due to its natural volume, you could all hear him perfectly well. With a roll of his eyes, Yunho unlocked the car and Wooyoung all but pranced his way into the backseat, squeezing you in between him and Hongjoong.

“What if there’s a fire in the house? How are they gonna get out?” You asked jokingly.

Hongjoong piped up with an amused grin, “There’s a back door. I’m actually surprised they didn’t think of that yet.”

And with that, Yunho continued the journey to the mall, ignoring the way Seonghwa ran after the car for a couple of metres while cursing out Wooyoung until he gave up.

The ride there was also pretty short. It was a relatively popular mall that offered a variety of stores and a fucking amazing food court with all your favourite restaurants. As the five of you walked through the mall, Wooyoung had his arm linked with yours, leading all of you to the store that housed an assortment of technology ranging from phones to massage chairs to music equipment, which is exactly what they needed.

“While you guys do your thing here, I’m gonna go ahead and find something to wear.” You excused yourself politely and were surprised when Yunho tagged along—Wooyoung joining you was less of a surprise. But you didn’t complain, spending the last few weeks with him created a small soft spot in your heart.

After spending so much time with him and meeting all his friends, you came to the conclusion that you seriously misjudged them and told yourself you would make it up to them one day. When you brought it up to Wooyoung to apologise for being such a stubborn jerk at the start of the project, he merely waved you off and said something along the lines of “It doesn’t matter now anyway, we’re best friends forever! Unless you want to be more th-” and then you punched him in the arm.

As much as you wanted to deny it, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and that entire ensemble of frat boys were incredibly handsome. Without meaning to, you sometimes found yourself staring, tracing their silhouettes with your eyes and your fingers itching to whip out your sketchbook and draw their perfect proportions. San’s physique, for example, was so nice to look at it frustrated you sometimes, jealous of his lean figure and waist so tiny you could wrap a hair tie around it.

“I’d rather get to know you than watch Hongjoong-hyung spend an hour trying to find the perfect speakers or whatever it is he needs.” Yunho reasoned, falling into step on your left while Wooyoung took your right. It was then that you noticed how tall he actually was, having to quite literally crane your neck to smile at him understandingly.

“I heard you major in acting, is that what you wanna do in the future?” You asked, then immediately realised how stupid of a question that was. Your face scrunched up with embarrassment. “Sorry, that was a dumb question.”

But Yunho laughed, not at you but rather at how endearing you are. “No, no. Don’t worry. Yeah, that’s what I hope to do in the future. But… how do you know what I major in? I don’t recall meeting you, let alone telling you what I study.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, smiling at the way your eyes bulged from your skull at his insinuation.

“One of my friends also is an acting major!” You blurt, quickly explaining yourself. “You know, Kim Gahyun? I’ve heard you’re great at it.”

At his deep chuckle, you looked up at him, confused. But before you could question it, Woyooung pulled you into one of the stores abruptly.

“I love this place, you should get your stuff here!”

After observing your surroundings for a second, you realised what store you were in. Well, you didn’t realise the name of it, but rather the fact that everything would be very costly.

“I don’t know, Wooyoung…” you trailed off, stepping to the nearest clothing rack and checking the price tag of the first blouse you could get your hands on. You nearly choked at the number displayed on the pristine white tag, quickly and carefully placing it back on the rack. “Everything is too expensive and I don’t get paid enough to be able to afford more than a pair of socks here at most.”

Wooyoung and Yunho looked at each other, blinked, and then returned their gazes to you.

“I thought you were aware we were gonna pay for you.”

“Oh,” you looked between the two of them, “oh, no, no, no. I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“You didn’t ask, we’re offering. And in this matter, we won’t take no for an answer so go ahead and explore, find things you like, try them on and then we’ll pay for you.” Yunho smiled warmly. “Consider it a gift.”

You narrowed your eyes at both of them. “What will I have to owe you?”

“Oh, Y/N,” Wooyoung sighed coming to your side and dragging you further into the store. You watched idly as he sifted his way through the clothing racks, occasionally pulling out a piece of clothing, observing it, and then putting it back. “A gift is a gift, you won’t have to owe us anything.”

“Fine,” you agree begrudgingly after two long minutes. “Where should I meet you when I’m done picking out my stuff?”

“I have to go find something to wear for our dance video, so we’ll leave you to yourself and when you’re ready just come find us,” Wooyoung said before pulling Yunho away with a smile, leaving you alone.

Browsing the racks, you realised everything seemed way too fancy to be worn to some frat party. On top of that, a lot of the things were form-fitting—a look you don’t usually go for unless it’s a really special occasion. Sighing you continued your search. The problem wasn’t the clothing, really. You felt bad about using their money. Yeah, they were rich and all, but you didn’t want to feel in debt to them.

After around five minutes of searching, you hear a soft voice next to you. It was a very pretty woman that seemed to be in her late twenties. She wore a very chic-looking black pencil dress with her hair in a sleek bun. Once she saw you notice the name tag on her chest, she offered you a friendly smile. “Hello, Ma’am. Is there any way I could help you?”

“Oh, uh,” you contemplated her offer. “Yes, actually. I need something to wear to a party. Nothing too fancy though.”

A smile overtook her features as she ushered you to follow her. Apparently, you were looking in the wrong section because she led you to a corner of the store that held things that would be more suitable; sparkly shirts and skimpy short dresses.

“Is there any style you prefer?”

You explained you’d prefer clothes that weren’t tight fits or too short. Once asking you if you had anything underneath your hoodie (a sports bra), she asked you to take off the thick material to get a better idea of your body shape. Despite hesitating for a moment, you peeled it off you and turned around slowly, letting her get a better view.

The woman—Hana, judging by her nametag—hummed and nodded. “You have some very nice curves, are you sure you wouldn’t want to show them off?”

“Well… I mean, I wouldn’t mind. But it’s just that I’d prefer comfort.” It’s true that you didn’t really mind your body, most of your weight residing in your hips and thighs. Sometimes you liked it, thinking the plump flesh gave you a softer look.

She regarded you for a moment before turning and pulling some things off the shelf. With enthusiasm, she presented some clothing items by laying them on the long bench in the middle of the section.

The first outfit she pieced together was a very short pleated black skirt accompanied by a black corset-like top. The next was made up of flared black pants and an oversized dress shirt.

Looking at them closely, you looked back at the assistant, who was watching you carefully. “What if I wear this,” you picked up the hanger with the unbuttoned dress shirt, “on top of this?” You tucked the corset top into the dress shirt and set it down on the bench, stepping back so she could take a look.

“Oh, that would work beautifully!” She smiled brightly, picking up all the items you chose as you put your hoodie back on. “You could wear a waist chain on top of the corset, it would accentuate your waist a bit more and look even more splendid. And if you’re uncomfortable you can always just button up the shirt.”

Hana led you to a smaller section of the store next to the dressing rooms, letting you go through the accessories and shoes. As you looked through the various pieces of jewellery, a hand brushed against your waist and you felt someone stand beside you. Looking to see who it was, you find Yunho, his eyes looking at the jewellery rather than you.

“Are you looking for a necklace?” He picked one from the turning display—a thin silver choker with a diamond that would rest right in between your shoulders and at the base of your neck. “I think this would be nice, no?”

“It’s very pretty.” You took it from his hands, fingers brushing against his much larger ones and inspecting it closely before you set it back on its hook. “But unfortunately, it’s not what I’m looking for. I need a waist chain.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. He stepped around you, looking at some of the longer chains. “Hongjoong-hyung probably has a better eye for jewellery, but I’m sure I can find something.”

“Speaking of, are they still in the other store?”

Yunho held up a thick golden rope chain, placing it back after you shook your head. “No, they’re helping Wooyoung choose his clothes. He’s very indecisive ad perfectionistic when it comes to anything related to dance, which I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

You did in fact notice that habit of his. He made you sit in the dance studio and watch him choreograph and practice, he said it was so you could get a better idea of what movements he would make ahead of time so you could already start thinking about the composition of the paintings. But you were perfectly aware he just wanted to show off to you, noticing how he would beam every time you applauded him.

However, you also noticed that if he got a move wrong, he’d beat himself up over it. Dancing it and trying to perfect it over and over and over again until he could execute it the way he wanted. Sometimes he would crumble to the ground and just lay there while you came and sat next to him, reassuring him he did great and forcing him to drink some water. You understood him completely, often feeling like that yourself. That you have to get everything right, make everything perfect just to be good at what you love to do.

There had been countless times when you scrapped your artworks. All because something felt off—the colours, the proportions, the harmony, a tiny mistake you couldn’t seem to get rid of. You understood him completely because you also knew what it was like to fail at your craft and feel like everything you worked so hard for was a waste of time.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” You nodded, a small frown on your lips and furrow in your eyes.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you before Yunho spoke again, a laugh resounding in his voice as he held up a series of multiple chains connected with each other. “Hey, what’s this for? How the hell would you put this on?”

He tried tying it around his waist on top of his hoodie but stopped once Hana cleared her throat.

“Sir, that’s– uh– that’s for the breasts, sir.”

“Oh.” He blanched, putting it back hastily, a light blush forming on his cheeks as you laughed. He narrowed his eyes at you. “A word of this to anyone and I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” You saluted him mockingly.

Eventually, you found something that matched your preferences—a dainty plain silver chain with a small heart clasp. Right next to it, you spotted a matching set of dangling earrings.

“Oh, look at this one! It’s so pretty!” As carefully as you could so as to not get anything tangled, you picked it off the shelf and showed it to Yunho and Hana with a bright smile on your face (Yunho nearly cooed at you).

“It’s perfect!” Hana nodded approvingly, readjusting your outfit in her gentle grip. “Are you ready to try everything on?”

“Yes, I think so– Wait.” You spun around and walked over to the selection of shoes, quickly choosing a pair of platformed Mary Janes. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

You followed Hana into the dressing rooms, Yunho going off to find the rest of the guys while you tried everything on. In the end, you were very happy with your choices. You didn’t mind that it seemed a bit fancy for a frat party, at least you looked spectacular. Besides, the oversized dress shirt added a bit of casualness to the outfit, so overall it seemed quite balanced out.

When you stepped out of the curtains of your cubical, Hana clapped and complimented you endlessly, especially when you took off the shirt and gave her a little spin with the skirt and corset top. Satisfied, you changed back into your sweatpants and hoodie and met the guys by the cashier with your outfit neatly folded in your arms.

“Ready?”

You nodded, placing your pile on the cashier’s counter next to Wooyoung’s pile. As you watched the lady scan each item and the price on the display going higher a higher, your face contorted with guilt and you looked away.

“Are you sure I can’t at least pay some of it?”

“Y/N.” Hongjoong grabbed your attention with a firm but somehow still gentle tone. “We’re part of the richest families in South Korea, I don’t want to make you feel bad about yourself or your financial status or anything, but this is barely even putting a dent in our bank accounts.”

Mouth agape, you blinked at him, looking at each of the men individually before you settled your eyes on Wooyoung, narrowing them ever so slightly and opening your mouth to speak. But before you could ask, he answered, knowing exactly what you were about to say.

“For the last time, we’re not part of the mafia.”

Jongho, who found this a lot more amusing than his hyungs, let out a series of bubbly laughs, his lips stretching into a smile and showing off his perfect gums and his shoulder pulling up and shaking as he laughed. Despite seeing him so often, you’ve never seen him display so much happiness (except for the time your bookstore was selling signed copies of one of his favourite books and he caught you giving him a small discount because you saw how excited he was) and it warmed you inside.

“Okay, if you guys say so…” you trailed off, cutting your fond gaze on Jongho off and you accepted the stylish white paper bag with your clothing from Hana.

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] and here it is!! i love reading and writing shopping scenes in fics so much omg. but anyway, next chapter we'll be getting the party!! and happy pride month everyone! my birthday is coming up soon and i'm gonna be travelling, so i'll most likely miss the update after the next one, please don't worry i'll be right on track as soon as i get back :)

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#★ — › NEVER SAY NEVER !#ateez #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #vampire au #college au #fluff #eventual smut

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