#ask game: six secrets
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gentrychild · 2 years ago
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AU where Izuku gets expelled and keeps going to UA. However, after the USJ Aizawa, fresh off his head injury, just assumes he reenrolled Izuku and is confused when the paperwork doesn’t reflect that.
How do you like monstrous misunderstandings?
1 - After being expelled, Izuku did the only reasonable thing to do and pretended that this had never happened and hid for two days every time Aizawa was around while he kept going to class. After the USJ, Aizawa didn't react when he saw him so he quickly guessed that there was some head injury going on helping his homeroom teacher that he has expelled Izuku.
2 - No one is allowed to help Aizawa remember that Izuku was expelled. No one. I do not know what Izuku did but everyone in 1-A is helping him pulled it off and even the UA staff doesn't dare to bring it up to Aizawa, even though most of the adults know that Aizawa would reenroll him.
3 - Because of that, every time Aizawa mentions that there is some missing paperwork for a student, he gets very concerned glances for his coworkers (because they are scared to anger the green gremlin). Aizawa, who is hiding that he escaped the hospital even though his doctor had ordered bed rest for a month, always drops the subject quickly so the other teachers won't suspect that something is wrong with him. (Nevermind the fact that he is covered in bandage and OBVIOUSLY FORGOT THAT HE HAD EXPELLED A WHOLE STUDENT).
4 - So Aizawa has a student in his class no one acknowledges (in his presence). His coworkers always make face every time the USJ is mentioned. Again, things get VERY STRANGE every time he tries to mention Midoriya as still being in his class. So he makes the next logical leap: Midoriya Izuku died at the USJ and Aizawa is the only one who can see that ghost.
5 - The rest of the AU is Aizawa subtly trying to talk to Izuku and to apologize for not protecting him and asking him how he can make him be at peace while Izuku is very sus of this whole thing and 100% believing that Aizawa is suspecting that Izuku was expelled and pulling a con. Nedzu is aware of the whole thing and finds it hilarious.
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lesbian-cowpoke · 8 months ago
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i decided to do this thing cause why not my discord peeps chose maps first lmao
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lettalady · 2 years ago
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six secrets: Long Journey Home- character of your choosing 💕💕💕
Six Secrets from The Long Journey Home - and I can’t make up my mind for which character or if we’re going to stick to LJH proper or look at the LJH series for this… (uh oh)
Sorry I got started on this last night and fell asleep!
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1  is an open secret - A poorly kept secret is nanny’s infatuation with Helmut, which the whole of the household knows about. It is better, though, that her inexperience allows everyone to read her so well. (Course it could also be that the whole building knows that there's something brewing between Bucky and reader. The. Whole. Building. Knows. Guys. Get with the program.)
2  is a secret the people close to your character know - Those closest to Sam know that the shot he downed in Madripoor wasn't the first time he'd downed something questionable. Previous imbibement was after several other shots though... and with a group that was also drinking down things similar.
3 is a secret that your character wouldn’t really care about getting out - Torres has the phrase 'what would Sam do' rattling around in his brain when facing various situations.
4  is a secret exactly one person knows anything about - Sarah's grief counselor knows that she is/was angry that Sam disappeared in the snap. Not like Sam could control it, prevent it, or have done much (if anything) different to allow for a different outcome.
5 is a secret no one knows about but they sort of want to come out/to tell someone - Oeznik holds so many family secrets. He wouldn't mind sharing a few of the stories with Dove... eventually.
6  is a secret no one knows and they desperately don’t want anyone to know about - So... Walker can't fully explain to Val why he doesn't want to go to The Raft and pay Zemo a visit. It's not just cause he can lead the group just fine, thank you very much - like she thinks. It's cause he doesn't wanna see the man. He doesn't want to give Zemo the chance to smirk and mutter two words: "Caramel onions."
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traffic-series-after-life · 10 months ago
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so would you mind me asking what are the major groups in the void or whatever its called and does it have buildings
Jimmy: Ow!
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povlnfour · 1 year ago
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ HOW DO YOU TURN THIS THING OFF? — LN4
pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader
summary: fans love when you make appearances in landos streams. it’s usually because he doesn’t know where something is, and the internet goes crazy over their favorite certified himbo. on one stream, you get a taste of your own medicine when lando tasks you with turning the live feed off, and fans get a little more of an insight into your relationship
genre: established relationship, humour
ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just tweeted
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ user2 just made a thread
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo
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liked by yourusername and 406,409 others
landonorris dinner date then stream, be there or be square, 6pm
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maxfewtrell did she have to show you how to use a knife and fork too?
yourusername i definitely had to show him how to fill my wine glass up when it was empty
user PUT Y/N ON THE STREAM WE WANT MORE Y/N
user if he comes on in a dress shirt i’m Dead
user oh they’ve all definitely seen the thread😭😭
ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a thread
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo
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liked by landonorris and 108,654 others
yourusername this time it was my own stupidity that let the secret out. and i didn’t have to show him how to propose! he did it all on his own accord!
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user YOU’RE SUCH AN ICON
user only lando and y/n could accidentally expose their own engagement
user THE CAPTION😭😭 she really has kept him alive all these years huh
user ‘i wouldn’t want to think of a life without you anyway’ now if that’s not meant to be than what is
landonorris i love you
landonorris really quick whilst we’re at it,,, where tf do we keep the spare phone chargers?
yourusername oh.. oh baby. i’ll be home in 5
————
a/n: hELLO! so the snippet from this got over 200 notes and i couldn’t wait to post it because you all loved it so much!
for the rest of my wips, check out the wip game linked in my pinned post!!
all of your feedback over the last few days has made me so happy sjdjsjs, any thoughts please feel free to send i am having so much fun creating for you guys. i seriously appreciate every like comment ask and follow!! anon emojis are now listed in my bio so if you wanna chat a bunch, have a look at what’s free !
- giselle
taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan
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chlmtsdoll · 2 months ago
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BOMBSHELL
౨ৎ @cinnamoncunt asked: can we pleaseee get an either art or patrick fic with victoria secret model reader?
Um, ABSOLUTELY ? Let’s do both ! Perfect timing bc I just settled on being a vs angel for halloween since I don’t have 2 bfs to do challengers this year. I’m sick of seeing the girls on my fyp who get to do it so this will justify my envy. 🤍
౨ৎ summary: it’s 2006 and you’re the opener for this years Victoria’s Secret fashion show. But unlike your other fellow angels, you have not one, but two supportive boyfriends just waiting to get their hands on you after the show.
౨ৎ warnings: 18+, smut !, threesome, p in v (unprotected) sex, oral (f) receiving, early 20’s Art and Pat, model reader, womanizer Patrick, shy Art, reader has dom-ish moments, flirty foreplay, pet names, dirty talk, Victoria’s Secret (the brand) mentions, a song inspo: Long Way 2 Go by Cassie
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You might’ve been the only angel backstage with two boyfriends on her radar.
No, you totally were.
And that was fine by you when having the two boys under your wings was your own little secret.
Art and Patrick wouldn’t have missed it for the world. With not only their supermodel girlfriend being the opener for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show, but fulfilling a great erotic teenage dream — something they both watched together during former years. In their dorm room at the Mark Rebellato Academy, while the other thirteen year olds would be up playing video games, or signing up for extra tennis classes in their free time, those two were glued in front of the tv. Creating a world of their own fantasy’s filled with angel wings and lingering far too overwhelming for them to even handle. Long legs, the bounciest glowing curls and pink bra sets filling the void. Their fascination with gorgeous and exceptionally powerful women at such a young age was far more vibrant than average.
It was what they bonded over from the very beginning.
Doing whatever they could whenever they could to find girls as close to what you happened to be as possible.
So when you came into their life, effortlessly magnetic with your beauty, superb bone structure, glitter dusted skin and a modeling contract — Art and Patrick had been at your beck and call since.
This was your peak. You’d really been here. Your I made it moment sinking in as you sat in the makeup chair backstage. The chaos of other models and their teams all rushing to get ready for the huge fashion show starting in just an hour tops was comforting to you, as an artist smudged on your cherry blush and the stroke of mascara running through your lashes before you checked your reflection in the mirror. Perfection to the way your curls flowed down your back, to even the careless drape of your robe hanging off your shoulder.
In the distance coming from not too far, there had been tousling wings parting as crew of models jumped out of the way, along with yelps like “what the hell ?” and “you guys can’t be back here!” coming from the group of girls.
And of course, it had been your blonde and brunette trailing through the crowd of angels to find you.
You watched with giggles coming from your covered mouth as the most handsomely men approached you. “What are you two doing back here?! You’re gonna get me fired and I haven’t even walked yet- -”
Art had a sideways little smile on his face, and eyes set on your face done up in shimmery makeup. You could nearly feel the way Arts heart had to be beating out of his chest just by the flustered look on his expression. Red and a tad dewy in the heat of the other barely clothed with mostly just rhinestones and lace six foot models surrounding him — but his focus was automatically choked up by you. On the other hand, Patrick’s eyes had been lingering all over the place, standing next to Art with a smirk across his lips as he had already charmed a group of angels nearby. Waving to them a bit with his sly attitude being just what they needed to get the fun pumping out of them for the show. As the girls all giggled to themselves and tried their best to look away, the brunette couldn’t wait to go yapping to all his friends or whoever would listen about all the hot girls he’d seen tonight.
You were so used to his cockiness contrasting Arts sweetness all too well, it hadn’t even phased you in the slightest..
“We uh- - wanted to bring you a little gift.” The blonde one spoke up nervously after clearing his throat, from behind his back, he revealed to you a full bouquet of pink peonies.
“Your favorite for all that hard work in the gym. The prettiest for our pretty girl.” Patrick grinned as he passed the flowers to you and you had let out an excited little noise as you took them. Your smile facing the two men as they watched your every girlish movement that they adored, smelling the arrangement in front of you.
“I- - you guys are too cute. They’re lovely.”
“You look bad ass by the way.” Art finally let himself breathe before chuckling with a smirk. And you grinned at him, pink colored cheeks as you stand to get closer to the men. Lean and in your six inches, Patrick shoved his hands down in his pockets just so resist the urge to touch you. Just a hip or your wrist. Anything he could while you looked like that. In all the eloquence of a woman that you were. Body so fit to him it was almost painful he wasn’t going into a spiral right now.
“Please confirm this for me angel.. can the wings stay on tonight ?” The brunette licked his lips carved into a smile of his own mischievous thoughts, Art then shoved him in his bicep.
You couldn’t help but let out soft laughter as you looked down at the peonies with shyness although your eyes had been full of tease.
“I can’t take them silly, they’re gonna be up in a museum.” You bit your lip as you smiled at your boyfriends. Eyes sparkling under the florescent lights of the room and the pair had collectively sucked in their breaths from.
“Ah.. course, course.” Patrick nodded although he’d still been eyeing you up in your pink stripped robe. “I don’t think they’d be able to fit in the limo anyways, they’re so big..” the blonde one laughed with the two of you, your eyes moved between them before you looked away with a naughty but playful nature.
“Yeah, well, I gotta say I like my pleasures pretty big..” your tone was smooth, as smooth as the way your hand then trailed, pink tips touching delicately over Arts belt buckle to Patrick’s leather as you made sure to meet both of the boy’s widening eyes. You turn back to your makeup chair with a little smile.
“Holy shit.” and “Oh my god.” Was heard behind your shoulder.
“Now go before you get kicked out.” You giggled. Patrick had knock Arts shoulder so he’d come back to earth and start heading out with him. You waved their way with your fingers and could barely hide your embarrassingly big smile, watching them fawn over you even while exiting.
As the show began and the crowd was roaring, the anticipation backstage was an overwhelming high with the rest of your fellow angels. You were first. And that was a lot of weight on your back. (not just from your wings) the moment you stepped on the runway, and the lights set on you, cheers were heard from the far back of the audience as your gleaming smile took upon your face. In your vs set, glimmering down the runway. You felt the adrenaline move within your hips as you not walked, but glided down the runway in a sexiness that had a sense of grace and girlish fun. Excitement big and bubbling through you as you blew kisses to the crowds of not just other models, but fans, legends. Everyone admiring you.
The front row wasn’t absent of familiar faces either because when you found Art and Patrick eyeing each other with proud grins, all the memories and moments of their early teen hoods was like a flashback through their minds. Art and Patrick would shamefully try and hide the way their cocks would tent as they watched one after the other angel strut down the runway. In bliss it was all the wanted to see it right in front of them. Now, that same feeling was on a different level when they got to actually leave with one herself. the moment you flashed a smile at the two boys from the stage before swishing your lace lined hips back stage — they started cheering even more than the others around them. You closed heavenly. And you knew you looked damn good with seven foot pink angel wings behind you.
When the after party rolled around, it was all of your model friends to pour it up in celebration of a phenomenal show. The other angels had begged you to stay, keep dancing on tables and flirting with the guys at the bar — but your desire had been pulled to have your own little after party. But with just your two boys in attendance.
You let them take over your hotel suit with as much whiskey and champagne as they wanted, more wine and more glasses being delivered to your room would rack up a massive bill at the end of the night that your agents would take care of. You couldn’t give a care in the world as you’d been frolicking around that room in your gifted pink set, diamond bra stuck to your chest made you look from another world of heavenliness. Your heels were still strapped on and the r&b from the radio filled the area as you stood on the bed to pose for the camera of your blinged out BlackBerry. You had Patrick snapping pictures, capturing you on your big night. Even if you’d already gotten tons from the show, that just wasn’t enough when you had the looks of a goddess.
“Hell yeah, baby, that’s it.” The brunette edged you on as he got you from all angels, knowing he’d send them to himself immediately after you’d gotten your pick. You giggled with a glass of champagne in one hand, and your other pushing up your locks for more volume. Art sipping on whatever he had while observing you from Patrick’s side. Putting on a show for the two boys without even realizing it.
“Make sure you get my good side,”
“Are they not the same ?” The brunette had made an confused expression from behind the phone. You stopped from posing to reach out and laugh “gimme” you grabbed it from him and all he could do was grin at the way you had no idea just how much of a true bombshell were. Art sat on the bed closest to you while you pressed different buttons to scroll through the dozens of photos with a bitten lip covered in gloss. The blondes eyes ran over your skin, the way you sat in that little set, and the way he relaxed against the comforter of the bed with a shy grin made you look up from your phone to meet his blue orbs.
“What ?” You tittered, throwing your phone to the other side of the bed.
“It’s just, you were so confident out there tonight, princess. You’re always so.. confident. You didn’t even look like a thought of nervousness had crossed your mind,” Art reached out to run the back of his index over your glowing skin and you hid your smile in your shoulder a bit.
“I was so nervous.”
“Really ?” He sat up.
“Yeah, opening in front of all those people ? Live tv ? Half naked and in six inch heels ? I was terrified.”
“You could of fooled me.” Patrick scoffed as he sat on your other side, “what Art said.. your confidence. It’s so sexy.”
“Yeah ?” Your voice was slightly silkier as you look from the brunette to the blonde who were only inches away from you now, breathing in your pure seduction they couldn’t hide the need to want to get that lacy thong off you immediately. Taste what you’d been teasing them with all night long.
“like.. what if my heel got stuck ? …what if I fell ?”
“No way, your- effortless.”
“But would you have rushed to save me ?” You leaned in close to the brunette, batted you lashes with a subtle pout. And it was then that rare occasion when Patrick had gotten choked up on his words occurred. You gave him your sweetest eyes, and smirked at the way his vision trailed down to your lips from there. Hands going to slip around your thigh.
“Who wouldn’t ?” You then heard the blondes voice come in slowly. He watched you turn away from Patrick’s embrace to now focus on him.
Arts eyes meet yours and that sugary smile you always carry returned to your face too soon. You followed what he laid down. Leaning in Arts path now, your lips landed against the blondes. Slow and with ease you kiss and the tension in who’d entrance you first was settled. Art slipped a hand in your waves, he moved his mouth against yours like it had been second nature to him and you sat on your knees to deepen it, tongues running against one another and a soft “mmm” came from the back of your throat as he surprised you with his newfound control over his movements.
Lost in the kisses as your lips smack against one another continuously, the lip stain of your liner now smudged across arts mouth, the blonde groaned. Patrick, felt his hard on grow viscous as he scanned the two of you. And Art, way beyond that point, could of came if it went on just a few more minutes.
You grab on to his curly locks as you pulled him away, softly panting with a smile. Arts lips were lingering nearby as you closed your eyes to peck them one last time before brushing your thumb against his bottom one with a giggle, your view flashes Patrick’s direction.
“Now, are you gonna make me cum or what ?” You sigh before letting your back hit the sheets behind you, leaving the two to fend for themselves at once. You watched Patrick’s digits run over your front side, hunger in his as while feeling up your skin. Art already leaned in to find his place between your legs — the other following when he got the memo. “mmm, you smell like paradise..” Art had his nose pressed against your lace covered cunt. He breathed deep for your sent to fill his senses, and Patrick kissing up your thigh. You observed with a bitten lip as you play with the strap of your bra.
“She is paradise..” was the brunette’s response, he nibbled a bit on the plushness of your thigh and you squeal excitedly. Both boys struggle to let the other get your panties out of the way, you were amused to watch them. You just lifted your legs so it would be easier. They settled on the side since your set had been hot anyways. One leg on the shoulder of the other, you felt a digit come in contact with your clit — already letting out a soft whimper. A tongue laid a stripe up your cunt, and it felt like sweet relief.
Art took his time with going from kissing to lapping at your core, setting his tongue flat then flicking up to your folds, Patrick focused on your clit. Sucking till his lips find their way to eating you in rhythm. Your eyebrows knit together as you let out a higher pitched noise and stuffed your hands into their hair, the overwhelming sensations washed over you. Moans echo clean from your throat. “oh- yeah… good boys.” you heard more groans vibrate from your core and that made you grin. All while now reaching for the pillows above your head as the boys make your legs shake and tremble. You gasp, muttering curses under your breath.
They were too good just oral wise. It had your nails clawing at the sheets in no time as they let all their craving for you out on your pussy, it pushed you into a climax fast.
“Mmm, yes- - fuck !” you whine as you start to cum on the tongues that were fucking into you, even their licking and sucking after your soaked cunt made you shutter. Your grip on the sheets letting up slowly as you came down with a soft sigh. Art rubbed the back of your thigh as he leaned up with the other, they both sat back with their chests heaving and very visible bulges showing from behind their jeans.
You cracked a honeyed smile. “Okay. Let me see those cocks.” You rise to your elbows after the order and the men take no hesitation to get their buttons undone. Your smile turning to a darker smirk soon enough in anticipation.
“She wants to play, huh ?” Art’s lips curled into a grin as he looked up at you whist shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs, Patrick already way ahead of him as he chuckled,
“Always a bad girl under all that sweetness,” the brunette joked as he playfully pulled on your foot and you yanked it away with a giggle. “You know I can’t help it.” You lean up to see the sight in front of you. Both men hard enough to keep you up till sunrise and your eyes light up right then. “Oh, look what we have here..” your tone was playful as you got closer, keeping an eye on them but also the way both their pretty cocks stood in excitement for you.
Reaching out you went to Patrick first. Letting your soft but experienced hand stroke him a bit, just to feel his thickness grow in your embrace.
“Shit..” the word slips from him and you sucked in your bottom lip as you went to work, innocently watching his expression as you stroked him so calmly but with devotion.
“Y’know… I never got a kiss.” The man uttered and you scoffed kittenishly before hovering your lips above his, smooching just once before Patrick went in hot, reaching behind you to palm at your ass and inch you forward to him. You yelped mixed with a string of giggles, pushing him down on the bed so you can climb on top of him.
“Get this off,” your voice was playful and flirty as you pulled Patrick’s shirt over his chest and arms. “You too, Art.” the blonde was quick to follow.
Your dripping core was just inches above Patrick's erect member. You sat at top of his body, just smiling and admiring the view. But it was a known fact the man underneath you was quite impatient, especially when you’d been running your hands down his chest the way you were, acrylic nails doing their own thing by the texture of the hair lightly trialed there.
“You gonna show me how you ride like an angel, princess ? Or should I do it myself ?” You were blushing right after his words, nodding a bit, your hands lead down farther to find his dick, brushing it up against your clothed slit as you sucked in your breath. With just a couple adjustments, you were leaning up so you could fit Patrick’s thick and full cock inside of you. A whimper immediately breaking through you as you sunk down. And the brunette didn’t hold back for a second as he held your hips, thumb kneading against the mesh fabric of your panties and watching the way you move so gracefully above him.
Art was too drawn in by the scene to have even remembered to get himself prepared. He hadn’t touched his cock, but you knew what to do.
Reaching out, you gently took Arts chin in your palm as you brought him close. Still going up Patrick’s cock as you kissed the blonde nice and slow. You all were beginning to be a mess of moans. “Touch yourself while we fuck, okay ?” You whispered against Arts ear. It caused him the most delightful chills. He didn’t think twice as his own hand went to his cock. And you started bouncing on Patrick, whimpering and moaning out like their hadn’t been people in the next door rooms — your hair springing off your skin with you.
“There you go, doll… take my dick. You’re so fucking hot.” Patrick grunted as he held your waist so you could fuck yourself against him, leaving no space between as you rocked yourself on his lap. Your mouth went agape when he readjusted to pound up into your tight hole,
“Yeah- - was I the hottest angel out there tonight ?”
“Fuck yeah..” the brunette grabbed you with roughness so you’d been flush with his chest, you smiled as he made your pussy clench hard frantically and your moans turned into stuttering whines. Taking him like this, you knew you’d cum. So you then hit on his chest to let you up, that way you could save your next high just a little longer.
“Oh- - shit… shit,” you climbed off of the man and sniveled out as you flipped your hair out of your face.
“Oh my god.. baby, I was so close.”
“Not yet. Art, come fuck me.” Your directness had turned the blonde on so much he could feel his cock twitch at your words. He met you, and with one look at your gorgeous set gaze on his and a smirk on your lips it set his thoughts wild. His tongue darted out to wet his own lip as you smiled up at him, you finally got rid of your bra now, and slipped off your panties before placing a hand on his neck tenderly as the other slid up his chest. Arts eyes locked with yours, he just watched you with a coy little sideways smile. And when you turned around, your ass was at his crotch, you were bending over near the bedspread and he sucked in his breath. “Oh, shit..” the blonde muttered. And it made you giggle girlishly.
You were pushing your soaked pussy on Arts member, “my god, you’re so wet.” He announced just ready to pump you full himself, but he knew he wouldn’t want anything to ruin the sweetness of the moment. So he let his tip meet your core, you observed with wide eyes, his dick perfectly pink and dripping of pre cum. You were practically salivating at the sight. “Fuck her good, Art.” Patrick chimed in and the blonde pushed into you with a deep groan leaving his throat, you gripped at the sheets as your face scrunched up and your jaw went hanging. Art slowly moved his hips against you, mouth agape at the sight of your ass against him heavily. Arts hand kneaded against your hip.
You spread your legs a little farther apart to take him. All of him. Moaning like you’d been split in half, Art started to thrust nice and easy. It made you reach back to grab his muscly arm for support and he grunted from the sight of your teasing eyes watching him, you always just had to see Arts face whenever he fucked you, because he was so pretty. Especially like this — chest glistening and damp curls as he made escalating noises exit you. You regularly told him he would be successful if he ever gave modeling a shot. Although he never believed you, thinking you were just being kind. But you really meant it. Art was delicious on the eyes. And not that he took any away from Patrick (him being too pretentious even for the modeling industry anyways) but they each had their own beauty to serve in different ways. Arts gorgeousness came straight from good genes. And just like his face, so did his cock. Wonderful and thicker than most guys his age, especially when he put it to good use like you and Patrick occasionally showed him.
You smile beneath your bitten lip and mewls at your other delectable boyfriend, Arts sly grin was in response and when he pounded into you faster, you felt the bed shake. You couldn’t hold back as you began to scream his name. It was always in the front of your mind to make Art feel good when you knew he struggled with his shyness at times unlike the brunette.
“Yes ! Yes, oh fuck- - make me cum, Art !”
“Yeah ? ..You like that ?” The blonde huffed as he snapped his hips into you,
“Uh hu… harder- - fuck it, just like that.”
Art let his hands palms at your ass, then slide up your torso to cup your breasts. Gripping them in his hands as you slid yourself up and down his member. “Your tits are fucking perfect, oh my god.” You felt slick running down your inner thigh, sheets tight in your palms as your eyes began to roll.
Patrick who watched right beside Art, was jerking himself to the sounds of your syrupy moans. You looked too angelic on Arts cock, he couldn’t help it as his free hand smacked down on your ass while you fucked yourself on Art. It made you both groan. And you loved it, your flirty smile said it all.
Art felt full enough to cum in you right then, the sight of your cunt spread against him was starting to make his head spin. “I’m gonna fill you up pretty girl, you ready ?” It was quick thrusts and a mixture of your half screams and half moans of “fuck, Art!” Filling the noise of the room before you were gushing around his dick. And he was spilling inside of you like that, an uncontrollable amount of his seed was painting your walls and the blonde made sure to get every last drip of it in your sweet cunt. The other man l beside him pumped his cock quick to releasing on your back side all with a string of groans and curses.
You didn’t collapse on your stomach just yet, not only the feeling of the two boys marking their territory on you being too excellent of a feeling to end just yet, but because Art crouched to lick at your puffy cunt. He tasted the mixture of you and him (with Patrick flowing into the mix) as you let out soft whimpers against the pillows. The brunette gripped your ass cheeks to help and you wiggled from the pleasure with a sigh of giggles. “naughty girl.” He smirked, the other licked up what was left of all of you like a pro. Your toes flexed and curled with the punch of his tongue.
“Fuck. That was amazing. You were amazing. ” Was all he could say when he collapsed on he comforter beside you with a deep breath and you turned on your back too. Slowly coming down from trembling. Art wrapped an arm over your body as he rested against your shoulder and you smile.
“That was the most fun I’ve ever had- - ever.” Your laughter was light and Patrick to your side got close to your body too, you let your hand gently caress his jaw.
“They weren’t gonna give you that at the after party we’re they ?” He grinned.
“No. Definitely not.” you shook your head with the sweat on your face only making your half ruined makeup look better somehow. Your love spell body shimmer still stuck to your skin and even got on Art and Patrick’s sculpted bodies pretty nicely as they gently rubbed you down. You smiled before tapping above your cheek bones, and both of your boys knew what to do. They left a two sweet kisses for you.
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kitscutie · 1 year ago
Note
hi! i saw your post about snow omg, can i request a coriolanus x mentor!reader where she’s similar to like clemensia but she’s more close to corio and they have a secret relationship? thank you in advance if you do this rq! love ur tsitp writings sm 🥹
snow and roses: part I (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)
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pairing: coriolanus snow x reader
warnings: none!
summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.
a/n: first time writing for snow and I'm very excited about it! I've always loved the hunger games and this movie was insane in the best way so please enjoy! I will be making this a series and this is only part one so stay tuned for the rest!
word count: 2.2k
join my taglist here.
"You're going to get it Coryo, don't stress." You soothed the boy as you sat next to him. It was barely even six in the morning and the pair of you had woken up, well he had woken up and you with him as he blatantly needed your support, desperate for the Plinth Prize.
You didn't need the prize, already coming from a wealthy Capitol family and yet you felt the same hope that he would win as you would for yourself, stomach twisting into knots at the thought.
"There's good candidates Y/N, it feels as if the odds are already stacked against me." He sighed, leaning over as he sat so his elbows rested on his knees, head in his hands.
"The odds are in your favour Coryo, you're special. Different." With that he looked at you, a small smile gracing his pale lips. He leaned up kissing you gently, fully embracing the special moment before he got up from his place next to you.
"I'll see you at the Academy?" He asked, knowing you had to leave quickly back to your own house in order to change but also in order to avoid the suspicions of your own family who had no idea of your relationship with Snow.
"Of course." You replied, also standing up and pulling on last nights clothes as you left.
You studied the dark an empty halls of his house, ensuring Grandma'am was nowhere to be seen before you quickly walked to the door, exiting un-noticed until Tigris came around the corner, seemingly equally in a rush and holding a shirt you knew must be for Coriolanus.
"Oh, hello Y/N." She smirked as you both stopped, unsure how to approach the conversation. She was one of the only people who knew something was going on between the pair of you and still she wasn't quite sure what it was.
"Hi Tigris. You look lovely today." You said quietly, feeling like a scolded child even though you hadn't done anything wrong.
"Well if you're here I can only assume Coryo is awake, I'll see you again I assume?" She replied.
"Yes and yes." You answered awkwardly before hurrying away once again, letting out a sigh of relief as you heard her enter the house. You could only hope she wouldn't mention your interaction to Coriolanus.
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You walked into the Academy at the same time as you did everyday, conveniently when Coriolanus would also show up.
"Coryo!" You yelled, spotting him across the room. He turned his head to you as though it was a surprise to see you, it wasn't.
"Y/N. What a pleasure." He smiled with his typical Snow charm, allowing you to link your arm with his.
"How are you feeling?" You asked him, thumb gently rubbing his bicep through his shirt. You rounded the corner past the food and yet you both avoided it for different reasons. You having already been fed by your family and their lavish lifestyle and he too nervous to even look at it.
"Never felt better." He replied with false confidence but no one else around you had to know that.
"Snow always lands on top." You teased as you entered the hall, spotting your friends if that's what you could call them stood in the centre of it all, as they usually did, talking about everyone around them no doubt.
"Y/N and Coriolanus, finally some real competition has arrived." Said Arachne, a glass in her hand and a smirk on her face as she always seemed to appear in public.
"Be humble now Arachne, you never know who will be chosen." You smiled, turning on your Capitol attitude in order to fit in. You were Capitol born and raised but your family taught you to be humble and kind. It was clear this wasn't common among parents here.
"Have you tried this lamb? It's scandalous." Said Felix, it made you chuckle how he used such a word to describe food.
"Only the vulgar eat with their fingers Felix, daddy not teach you table manners?" Snarled Festus, it was as though there was always a secret competition between the two of them, never quite made clear, never making sense.
"Maybe he would've if he wasn't so busy running the country. Hey they called us here for the Plinth prize right? 'Cause I heard Doctor Gaul's in the building." Felix changed the subject, knowing he had won. It was impossible to lose as the President's son you supposed.
You hadn't noticed but now Felix had mentioned it you took in the strange atmosphere, tense and mystery lingering in the air. "That is peculiar." You said, holding onto Coryo's bicep tighter subconsciously.
"Plinth. Look at his spawn. Who would've thought you could buy your way into the Academy." Felix once again snarled, he was always filled with such anger though it seemed todays anxiety only heightened this.
"Well you can't buy class. Did you see his mothers outfit? Sorry his Ma's." Festus joked, seemingly over his small tiff with Felix.
"Dress a turnip in a ball gown and it'll still beg to be mashed." Said Coriolanus, playing into their pompous ways. You knew he didn't agree, not really.
"Don't do that we all know you like him." Arachne spat with her spider like venom, raising her eyebrows at Coriolanus.
"I don't like him Arachne, I tolerate him. He's district." Said Coriolanus and he seemed pleased with his answer as you felt him relax under your touch. You however did like Sejanus and weren't afraid to show it.
"If I hear one more time how immoral these Hunger Games are I'll put him in the arena mys- Sejanus. You made it to the Reaping for once." Festus cut himself off, caught by Sejanus himself.
"And you made it to graduation Festus, we're both shocked." Sejanus replied and you couldn't help but snicker, hiding it as you realised no one else shared the same reaction. "Y/N, always a pleasure." He smiled at you politely. You couldn't help but note the way Coryo's jaw clenched, neck twitching as he looked at you to gaze your reaction.
"As are you Sejanus." You nodded. Arachne scoffed quickly mentioning the only thing she really cared about, the prize.
"Spill it, who won the prize." She asked.
"Well, no I'm not gonna ruin my father's big day. No one here actually likes him, but they do love his money." He once again hit back at the group around him, you felt sorry for the boy. Alone in a room full of people. "You know what that's like don't you Arachne?" He dug the hole deeper and you internally smirked, grateful someone was brave enough to stand up to a powerful woman like Arachne.
As the Captiol's anthem began to play you made your way to your seats, sat next to Coriolanus you placed a kiss on his cheek and whispered 'good luck' in his ear, though you didn't really think he needed it.
Doctor Gaul's chuckle resounded around the room in a menacing echo that always managed to make you shrink into your seat.
She commended you all for being star students before untroducing the creator of the games: Casca Highbottom.
He went on to tell you all that today was not the day the prize would be given out but instead there would be one more task to challenge you all and gage your true worth. Everyone seemed confused but not Sejanus.
"What's going on?" You whispered to Coriolanus. He sensed your anxiety placing a calming hand on your knee but gave you no other response which reassured you that you had not been left completely in the dark.
"The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who was the best grades. But by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games." With that there was outrage, to you it was dehumanizing for the tributes, 'mentored' by people their own age but for the others they only seemed to care whether they were given someone strong or weak. A 'runt' in Arachne's words.
The reaping commenced and you couldn't help but wish to be anywhere but here. You didn't want to do this, you didn't need the money yet you were forced to have another's life in your hands.
You got a small girl from 8 named Wovey, seeing her face on the big screen left you determined, determined to help her in anyway you could on the path to being a victor. Even if that meant Coryo may lose the prize.
Snow's tribute left the room in horror, her stage presence and brutality sent shivers down your spine, though you supposed that the outer Districts had it harder and that sort of survival must be built into her.
Standing up on shaky legs you grabbed Coriolanus up from his chair and outside of the room, you needed fresh air and you needed to talk to him about what you were about to face, arguably harder than any other test the Capitol could give you.
"Slow down Y/N, I can hardly keep up." He said, words laced with worry.
"I don't believe I can do this Coryo, did you see my tribute? She's hardly eligible for school never mind to be put into an arena where she's going to be killed. She's only a child." You paced while he leant against a pillar, beginning to eat some food he a had smuggled from the buffet table.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice Y/N." He tried to help but only made it worse as you realised you were trapped in yet another one of the Capitol's games. He seemingly realised this. "Hey, hey. If there as anyone in that room who would get that tribute, I'm glad it was you. Arachne would've given up on her by now. With you she has a fighter. A chance at surviving." He said while grabbing your wrists to stop your pacing.
"It's not that simple Coryo-" You tried but he cut you off.
"It is Y/N." He said sternly and you understood what he meant. It was either play into their games or become apart of them, no other choice. "You're a born winner Y/N, give her some of it hm?" He stared down at you as he spoke and his blue eyes while at times piercing sucked you in, heart rate lowering almost immediatley.
"Okay." You said.
"Okay." He smiled, reaching a hand around your neck to bring you into a kiss. It started off slow and caring though quickly intensified as he turned you both around so now you leant against the pillar instead of him.
His hand tightened around your neck, not enough to actually cut off air but just enough to make you feel dizzy as he pushed his body further into yours, keeping you against the cold cement and trapped in his arms.
Your mouths clashed together intensely, tongues colliding in a rhythm you though you would only ever be able to find with him in this lifetime. He was your everything, your light in a blizzard.
"Ahem." Coughed Casca, drawing the two of you away from each other with baited breaths and rosy cheeks. "Just like your father, yes we were best friends. Once." He said, and with that it felt like you weren't even in the room.
"Tell me Mr Snow, what are your plans after these games?" Casca asked.
"I hope to go onto the university sir, naturally." Coriolanus answered, pulling his waistcoat straight where it had been wrinkled by your tight grip.
"And if you fail to win the Plinth Prize, what then?" Asked Casca, it suddenly became clear to you that he knew something, just what he knew you were unsure of.
"We'd pay the tuition of course." He scoffed, insulted at Casca's insinuation even if it was true.
"Look at you, in your makeshift shirt and too tight shoes. Trying desperately to fit in when I know the Snow's don't have a pot to piss in." Casca said. You felt your own heart drop and so you couldn't imagine how Coriolanus felt, the insult to his pride was one you knew he wouldn't take well and so you grabbed his hand subtly, hiding it behind your back as to not show any sign of weakness to Casca.
"Goodluck with that poor little Songbird." He said, and with that he left. Leaving you to do damage control.
"Ignore him Coryo, he's trying to get into your head." You reassured him, moving a Snow white hair from his face. His jaw looked similar to the way it did earlier when Sejanus had so much as acknowledged your presence.
"He's right Y/N. From the moment my father died I lost. The odds were never in my favour." He spat out, though his actions didn't match his words as he gently removed your hand from his hair before beginning his exit of the Academy. "Come on now Y/N, I've got a songbird to catch." He said sarcastically.
You sped after him hoping Casca's words hadn't knocked him too much, after all, Snow lands on top and he wouldn't be the one to change that.
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TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am, @riordanness, @suvgs, @charmed-asylum
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theostrophywife · 1 year ago
Text
devil eyes.
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pairing: theodore nott x reader.
song inspiration: devil eyes by hippie sabotage.
author's note: this spicy fic is in collaboration with my darling @writingsbychlo. make sure you check out hide and seek. we've been scheming for weeks and i'm so happy to finally share this fun little story with all of you. keep an eye out for some cheeky cameos 👀
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The cardinal rule of Gryffindor House was plain and simple—never ever make a bet with the Weasley twins. 
Anyone stupid enough to do so either found themselves out a pocketful of galleons or worse, owing Fred and George a no questions asked favour that the pesky redheads could cash in at any time. 
Unfortunately, you were a little more than tipsy off of a bottle of firewhisky and bet one of the twins, Fred? George?—you couldn’t remember which ginger you’d sold your soul to—that you could easily outfly him on the pitch during a quidditch after party. After a violent hangover, the annoying git actually showed up outside of your dorm with a Firebolt in each hand. 
“Let’s see those skills in action then, Y/N.” 
On a normal day, you might’ve managed it. You were smaller and lighter than Fred, which gave you an advantage in flight, but as your head pounded and your stomach churned, you knew there was no way you were getting on that bloody broom. Though your house motto was all about being bold and brave, you weren’t reckless enough to risk it. 
Instead, you settled for a favour. 
In hindsight, you probably should’ve just stuck to death by eating shit on the quidditch pitch. It would’ve been a hell of a lot better than trying to squeeze yourself into a stupid tiny little costume that bordered on exotic dancer more than scary witch, but it’s not like you had much of a choice. You had a debt to settle. Fred made sure to remind you of that.
While the rest of your housemates headed to the Forbidden Forest, you were busy preparing for the vital role that your ginger overlords had assigned to you for the night. Since it was Fred and George’s last year, the twins were determined to solidify their status as Hogwarts legends. What better way to leave their mark than throwing a huge rager in the forest? Thus, the All Hallow’s Eve Fest was born. 
As far as your professors knew, it would be a small festival to celebrate the season complete with carnival games, enchanted rides, and cornfield mazes. All harmless fun. But the student body knew that the Weasley twins had something far more devious up their sleeves. 
From what Fred told you, the night would be full of secret passages, elaborate tricks, and actors and actresses who would add to the whole allure. You were to be one of them. Tonight, you were playing the part of a seductive sorceress who ripped out the hearts of unsuspecting men. 
You were practically made for the role, Fred joked. 
You threatened to resort to method acting and grabbed at the front of his shirt with every intent to rip his heart out of his chest. Luckily for him, George came to his rescue and tore his twin from your grasp before you could inflict damage. 
“See you at the Forbidden Forest at seven sharp,” Fred called as he tossed the costume at you. “Don’t be late, Y/N!” 
At half past six, you almost considered skipping the event altogether, but that would mean owing the twins yet another favour. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sighing, you tugged on some fishnet tights and slipped into a pair of high-heeled boots that laced all the way up to your thighs. You placed a hand on your hip, frowning at your reflection in the mirror of the prefect’s bathroom. 
“Are you trying to scare the masses or seduce them?” 
You turned around to find your friend Chloe perched up against the sink, smirking as she raised a brow at you. 
“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” you said as you snatched her tube of lipstick and painted your lips with a fiery red shade. “Know any men who wouldn’t mind having their hearts ripped out?” 
She chuckled, swinging her legs in the air. “A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first. Save the curly one for me, though.” 
“You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase of yours, then?” 
Chloe smirked and blew on her freshly painted nails. “He’s got until midnight to find me.” 
“What happens when the clock strikes twelve?” 
“Let’s just say that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house’s name and let him slither in.” 
“At least one of us is having fun tonight.” 
“Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.” 
You smirked in the mirror as you put on the final piece of the costume. The gold mask fit perfectly over your eyes and truly completed the sinister seductive sorceress part that Fred cast you as tonight. 
“I like the way you think.” 
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The promise of mischief and chaos helped to put a little pep in your step as you and Chloe parted ways. You didn’t even recognize the Forbidden Forest as you stepped foot into the haunted woods. There were colourful tents set up all around the clearing, some containing mirrored mazes and others promised fortunes readings. The combination of red lights and creepy fog gave the demented looking carnival an eerie feel. As much as you hated to admit it, the twins have really outdone themselves tonight. 
After running through the spell that conjured a hyper realistic heart that you’d be ripping out of unsuspecting victims all night, Fred directed you towards the east side of the forest. 
“Remember, it’s not a good night unless someone’s pissed themselves out of fear,” Fred reminded you for the thousandth time. 
“You’re a sadist, Forge.” 
Fred placed a hand over his heart. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Y/N.” 
“Piss off, yeah?” 
He chuckled. “I’d tell you to act scary, but you’ve got that down pat.” Fred cocked his head, examining your costume. “Although, would it kill you to show a little more leg?” 
“It won’t kill me, but I might kill you.” 
Fortunately for Fred, George plucked his twin away from your murderous clutches to start greeting their guests. By the time it was half past seven, the clearing was full of your fellow students. Despite your initial reluctance, scaring the absolute piss out of people was actually a lot of fun. As Fred predicted, you had a natural talent for it. 
The first group that wandered into your neck of the woods consisted of your fellow housemates. Dean and Seamus led the pack while Ron and Harry followed close behind. The Chosen One was as pale as Peeves. Weasley, on the other hand, looked as though he might vomit at any moment. Leading the rear, Hermione shook her head and marched forward. Neville matched her pace as he nervously darted through the twisted roots choking up the forest floor. 
You waited until their group passed through the twisted willow tree before jumping out. Dean screamed in surprise while Seamus scrambled away from you. Thanks to Fred’s little trick, your hand went right through Finnigan’s shirt which caused him to shriek in terror. With a twisted smile, you yanked the hyper realistic heart out of his chest and cackled in delight. 
At the sight of the beating organ in your hands, Neville nearly passed out. Dean hauled Seamus to his feet while Ron and Harry hightailed it out of there. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at the boys. 
“Well, they lasted longer than I thought they would,” she said. “Stuck out here for the night, Y/N?” 
“Unfortunately,” you replied as you vanished the dry blood with a quick spell. “Anyone you want me to scare the absolute wits out of tonight, Mione?” 
She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I don’t have any scores to settle.” You nodded, wishing her a good rest of the night. 
Hermione bid you the same and started to follow the direction that the boys fled to. Before she disappeared through the thicket, a familiar, drawling voice called her back. 
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the golden girl.” 
Draco Malfoy appeared in the clearing. There was skull makeup on his face, but the shock of platinum blonde hair gave away his identity almost instantly. He stalked towards Hermione with that arrogant aristocratic smirk, completely oblivious that you were lurking in the dark. 
“All alone in the woods, little lion?”
Hermione’s gaze flickered towards you. A smile curved against her lips as her honey eyes glimmered with mischief. “On second thought…” 
The golden girl hadn’t even finished the rest of her sentence before you yanked Draco by the wrist and pushed him up against the weeping willow. The blonde blinked, his silver eyes full of surprise and terror as you raked your nails along the column of his throat. The red varnish looked like blood against his pale skin.
“All alone in the woods, little serpent?” 
Draco steeled himself. “And who are you supposed to be?” 
You smirked. “I’ll be whoever you want, darling.” Malfoy shivered as you pressed a palm against his chest. He leaned into your touch, his heart beating erratically underneath your fingertips. For Godric’s sake, he was truly making this way too easy. “As long as you give me your heart.” 
Never in his life had Draco Malfoy looked so terrified. The colour drained from his face as you reached through his perfectly tailored button down shirt, fingers slipping through the expensive silk material. You laughed maniacally and caressed his cheek. 
“Brace yourself, sweetheart. This might hurt a bit.” 
Without warning, you yanked his heart out of his chest. Draco stared in utter horror as blood dripped from your fingertips. The tell-tale heart pounded in your palm,  the mess of flesh and tissue covering your arm with carnage. To Malfoy’s credit, he didn’t scream or flee like your housemates. Instead, the Slytherin appeared rather impressed. 
“The spell work’s not bad.” Draco said with a smirk. He lifted your palm and examined the heart. “A word of advice, though. I would’ve turned the heart black. It would’ve been more realistic.” 
Just as you rolled your eyes, a deep, husky voice pulled your attention away from the blonde. 
“Who even knew Draco Malfoy had a heart?” 
You turned to find a gathering of serpents in the clearing. They were all wearing matching skull makeup, but you could clearly tell who each male was. The gang of Slytherins were pretty infamous and easily recognizable. The curly headed one had to be Mattheo Riddle. His gaze darted through the trees as though he expected someone to appear out of the thick fog. You had to hand it to her, Chloe had the Slytherin eating right out of her hand. 
The one beside him stood a little bit taller and though his face was smeared in the same white and black paint, there was no mistaking Enzo Berkshire’s lopsided grin and soft hazel eyes. Flanking either side of him was Blaize Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, the it-couple of your year, which only left one other serpent to account for. The male that had spoken earlier had to be none other than Theodore Nott. 
You turned your attention back to him, squinting in the faint light as he prowled towards you. Theodore was considerably taller than the rest of his friends, but not in the awkward scrawny way that most boys his age were. He was slim yet strong, sculpted by years of playing quidditch. The makeup only accentuated his high cheekbones and his ridiculously sharp jawline, but it was his eyes—those dead, cold eyes that had half the school swooning over him that gave you pause. 
Theodore grinned as you released your hold on Draco. He cocked his head, arrogance and swagger radiating off of him in waves as his eyes roamed your body. There was something unsettling about his gaze—Theodore’s eyes were neither green nor blue, but rather some undiscovered shade that reminded you of watercolours bleeding into each other. 
The manner in which he ogled you was shameless. He drank in your tight corset, the fishnet tights, and the thigh high boots like you were a painting on the walls of a gallery, pinned up for his viewing pleasure. You held your head high, completely undeterred by his stare. Besides, two could play that game. 
You schooled your features into indifference. “Who are you supposed to be? The Pumpkin King?” 
Theodore flashed you a charming smile that you had no doubt made the rest of the student population swoon. “I’ll be your Jack if you agree to be my Sally, sweetheart.” 
As slowly as possible, you dragged your gaze from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Theodore smirked as you surveyed him just as he had done to you a few moments ago. Staying true to his Slytherin roots, Theodore wore a black suit and matching freshly pressed trousers, but the silk shirt underneath was maroon—Gryffindor colours. Your house colours. 
“Brave of you to wear rival colours.” 
“I thought you’d be happy,” Theodore drawled. “Better to hide the blood when you rip my heart out, darling.” 
“You think I care about making a mess?” you said with a smirk. “That’s half of the fun.” 
Theodore flashed you a smile that spelled nothing but trouble. “Oh, I think you’re just my kind of witch.” 
“Oi, Notty boy! If you’re done flirting, we’re heading to the mirror maze.”
Blaise was regarded with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.” 
Hermione lingered by the edge of the clearing. She raised a brow in a silent question. You merely shrugged. Theodore Nott wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. 
“Give Longbottom my apologies, Mione. And a calming draught,” you added as an afterthought. “The poor bloke will need it.”
Your friend smiled. “Sure thing. Shall I tell the twins that you’re…indisposed?” 
“No, let my wardens sweat it out a bit.”
Hermione chuckled and waved you off. The rest of the Slytherins followed shortly after, leaving you alone with Theodore. You locked eyes for a moment before you spun on your heel and walked off in the opposite direction. The brunette stared after you in stunned silence before you looked over your shoulder and smirked at him. 
“Well, are you coming or not, Theodore?” 
The sounds of the leaves crunching below his boots indicated that Theodore had snapped out of his stupor and was catching up to you. He did so rather quickly, thanks to those long legs of his. One of his strides was equal to three of yours. It took little to no effort on his part before the two of you were walking side by side. 
“You know who I am, then?”
You shrugged. “It’s not hard to tell you and your cronies apart.” 
Theodore grinned lazily and cocked his head at you. He squinted against the faint light, no doubt trying to ascertain a hint of your identity from underneath the gold mask. 
“It hardly seems fair. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”
You smirked at him. “I’m Sally, remember?” 
“Does that mean I’m your Jack?” 
“For the night, at least.”
He seemed content with that answer. “Where are we headed now, little witch?”
“The Graveyard.”
Theodore appeared slightly baffled, but brooked no argument as you led him through a thicket of trees. You chuckled at the sight of him following you blindly. “A strange girl just told you she was leading you to a graveyard and you didn’t even bat an eyelash. I thought you Slytherins were all about self-preservation?”
“I have no intention of preserving myself tonight,” Theodore drawled. “Feel free to ruin me, Sally.”
“I suppose you think you’re rather charming, don’t you Jack?”
“I don’t think, darling. I know.” 
You rolled your eyes and walked toward the lone tombstone in between the weeping willows. Theodore watched as you waved your wand and muttered an incantation. The ground rumbled beneath your feet, clearing the leaves until an ominous set of stairs appeared in front of the grave. 
Theodore peered over your shoulder. “I suppose you won’t be telling me what’s down there, will you Sally?” 
“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll hold your hand in case you get scared.” 
It was meant to be a joke, but Theodore took the jest to heart and slipped his hand into yours. You smirked as you intertwined your fingers. If he thought a little hand holding would bother you, then Theodore had no idea what he was in for tonight. 
“Lead the way, love.”
You led him down the steps, plunging into darkness the lower you went. Theodore took the opportunity to press up behind you and kept a hand on your waist as the two of you descended. He was so close that the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke assaulted your senses.  
A red hazy light flashed up ahead. The pounding music and excited chatter of your fellow classmates grew louder as you and Theodore were transported into the speakeasy. The bar was stocked with alcohol, shots and cocktails floating mid-air with themed drinks like Merlin’s Mourge-a-rita, Witches’ Brew, and Cauldron Colada. You hailed Parvati down who was apparently serving as the bartender tonight along with her twin sister. 
“We’ll take two El Diablos.” 
Theodore raised a brow, but didn’t protest as Parvati presented the shots in front of you. Your fellow housemate also floated a salt shaker and a bowl of limes on the counter. You sprinkled salt on the back of your hand and grabbed a lime wedge in preparation. Theodore did the same, minus the lime. 
“Bottoms up, Jack.” 
“Cheers, Sally.”
After licking the salt off of your hand, you clinked your glass against Theodore’s and knocked the drink back. The El Diablo certainly lived up to its name. The drink was a combination of tequila mixed with pepperup potion and topped off with a hint of cayenne. Needless to say, it had a bit of a kick. 
With a slight grimace, you bit down on the lime, which helped with the unpleasant aftertaste. Theodore caught your wrist and held your gaze as he directed your hand up to his mouth. He mimicked your move and sucked hard on the lime, his lips brushing your fingers as he licked the juice from where it had dribbled onto your palm. 
A shiver snaked down your spine. You may be a shameless flirt, but Theodore was definitely matching your energy. 
“I can’t believe the twins built a speakeasy down here,” Theodore said. He leaned in close so you could hear him over the music. “I’m almost impressed.” 
“I’ll tell my wardens you said that.” 
“You keep calling them that,” Theodore said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t mean that one of the weasels is your ball and chain in a literal sense, right?”
“Are you jealous, Jack?” 
He smirked. “I just want to know which twin I’m sending to the infirmary tonight.”
You chuckled. “I’m not dating Fred or George. I just owe them a favour. Speaking of which, I’ve got some men to scare. Be a good boy and wait for me here.”
Theodore shook his head. “Oh, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m yours for the night, remember?” He toyed with the laces on your corset and pulled you towards him, your breasts pressing against the hard muscles of his chest. “I have a proposition for you, little witch.”
You quirked a brow, which made Theodore chuckle darkly. “Not that kind of proposition, principessa.” He twirled the lace between his fingers. “I say we terrorise the student body together.” 
“You want to help me do my job?”
Theodore shrugged. “Why not? We can be partners in crime.” 
You cocked your head. It certainly would be more fun to have someone else partake in your chore. Curling your fingers around his maroon tie, you pulled Theodore down to your level. His gaze flickered to your mouth and you couldn’t help the thrill that buzzed in your veins as you watched him swallow thickly. 
“You’ve got a deal, Jack.” 
As it turns out, Theodore was an excellent partner in crime. The two of you concocted a rather effective formula to inflict fear upon your classmates. The Red Room soon became your hunting grounds. In the creepy blood soaked maze, Theodore chased groups through the enchanted room while you lurked in the shadows. As soon as they thought they were safe from skull face, the groups were then led right into your trap. 
You could hardly count the amount of people you scared shitless tonight. 
Eventually the two of you returned to the bar for more drinks. You ordered another round of shots, which Theodore accepted without question. By the time you were six shots deep, the tequila had annihilated any sense of personal space between you. Theodore leaned down to take a sip of your drink. 
“Trying to get me drunk, love?”
“That depends,” you quipped back. “How many drinks do I need to plie you with until you agree to dance?” 
“With you? I’d say yes while stone cold sober.”
You grinned. “Come on, then.”
Theodore allowed you to guide him away from the bar and into the throng of your fellow classmates. It was total debauchery out on the dance floor. The music pulsed seductively as bodies writhed to the hypnotic beat and the red light bathed the crowd in a sinister glow as the alcohol loosened both limbs and lips. 
The warmth of the tequila made you feel flushed, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Theodore’s hands on your waist. With your back pressed against his chest, you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. You rocked side to side and grinded against him, which caused his grip to tighten. Theodore’s fingers dug into your sides as you wrapped an arm around his neck and arched your back against his chest. 
His dark lashes fluttered as your lips brushed against the column of his throat. Theodore shuddered when you nipped at his skin. A low groan escaped his mouth as he tried to chase your lips, but you dropped low to the floor and left him in a daze. 
Theodore caught your wrist and pressed you flush against him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to tease?’ 
“Do I look like someone who gives a shit about being polite?” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You should know that I have a terrible habit of playing with my food.” 
Theodore smirked and fisted your hair between his fingers. “And you should know that I have no qualms about being toyed with. As long as you promise to devour me later, little witch.”
You brushed up against him and felt his hardness rub against you. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I’ll get my taste of you tonight.” He inhaled sharply as you tugged him down to you. His eyes fluttered, fully expecting a kiss. “But before that, would you be a dear and get me another drink? I’m absolutely parched.”
A pained expression dawned on his handsome features. Theodore was fully aware of the little cat and mouse game you were playing, but he seemed keen to play along. If only to please you. 
“You’re killing me, bella,” Theodore said with a sigh. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek, a promise of what was to come. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, yeah?” 
“Don’t take too long,” you said with a wink. “I might get impatient.”
With that, Theodore hustled back to the bar. You chuckled at the sight. Your amusement only grew as Chloe approached. As soon as she was within reach, you tugged your friend onto the dancefloor. She happily obliged, the moves flowing naturally. The two of you were known to bring the whole house down at countless parties. 
“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?” 
“No, but he’s close.” Chloe shouted over the music, motioning to the bar where her boyfriend was currently standing. Mattheo, Theo, and Draco were talking in hushed whispers, looking rather serious. 
“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.”
The poor Slytherin was chasing after some unsuspecting blonde girl who looked a lot like Chloe from behind. A mischievous grin curved against her lips as she watched Theodore weave his way back to you, toting a drink in each hand. 
“Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” you replied with a coy smile. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”
“My lips are sealed.” 
With a wink, Chloe slipped away just as Theodore returned. He handed you a drink and watched as you sipped it slowly. Theodore downed his cocktail in less than a minute and tossed his cup into the nearest trash can. 
“Impatient, aren’t we?” 
“You promised a taste.” 
You smirked, chugging the rest of your drink and wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. Theodore watched intently as you set the empty cup down. “Come and get it, then.”
The words had barely left your lips before Theodore kissed you. There wasn’t a hint of timidness in the way that his lips crashed against yours, a soft moan escaping his mouth as he tilted your chin up to gently bite down on your lower lip. You gasped when he nipped at you, leaving your mouth open for his tongue to slide into. 
The taste of him was intoxicating as he massaged your tongue against his, licking the roof of your mouth before he kissed you sloppily, open-mouthed and positively obscene despite the crowd dancing around you. What started out as a kiss turned into a full blown make out session in the middle of the dance floor. Neither one of you felt a hint of shame as you shared another filthy kiss. With a groan, Theodore’s hands roamed along your back and squeezed when he reached your ass. 
“Fuck, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” 
You smirked, already equipped with a salacious response when your gaze caught on the clock behind the bar. It was nearly midnight and the twins had instructed all the actors and actresses to gather in the main entrance for the grand finale. Fred and George would have a fit if they found out you had abandoned your post. The twats would probably demand another favour out of you. There was no way you were going to shackle yourself to the Weasleys a second time. 
“Shit,” you hissed under your breath. “It’s almost midnight. I have to get back.”
“I thought you were my Sally,” Theodore drawled. He looked slightly dazed, his curly hair dishevelled and his lips swollen from your kisses. “Not Cinderella.”
“I’m being serious, Nott. If I’m not back before the clock strikes twelve, I’ll have to owe the twins another favour.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in time. Besides, if we’re playing into this whole Cinderella fantasy then let’s skip to the good part and see if it fits and by it I mean me inside of you.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you knew it, you were dragging Theodore out of the speakeasy. The two of you climbed the steps three at a time, nearly tumbling over one another as you raced up the stairs. The woods were dark and foreboding, but provided plenty of cover for your illicit activities. 
You tugged Theodore along by his tie and he pressed you against an oak tree, the bark biting at your exposed skin. You were kissing again in no time and the sounds the two of you made were downright lewd. Theodore reached for your mask, but you swatted his hand away. 
“The mask stays on.” 
He smirked. “I didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but you seem to be an overachiever.”
“I aim to please.” 
Theodore smirked against your neck as he hiked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. His hand wandered underneath your skirt and those deft fingers of his teased along your soaked core. 
“You’re so fucking wet, little witch.” You groaned as he plunged his fingers between your folds. “Such a pretty cunt too. Will you clench this tightly around my cock when I fuck you?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” you whispered huskily. 
A stream of curses fell from Theodore’s lips, but not in a language that you understood. Italian, perhaps. Whatever it was, it sounded sexy as hell. You unbuckled his belt and slipped your hand into his trousers, feeling his hard length twitch in response. A choked groan rumbled through his chest as you pumped him between your fingers. 
You swallowed thickly. Theodore was long and hard, his cock almost too big to fit inside of you. But you always did like a challenge. 
Those watercolour eyes that had been pinned on you all night turned positively dark. The strange blue and green shade that you had grown familiar with was now swallowed by darkness, leaving Theodore with a gaze that would’ve rivalled Medusa’s. You felt it searing into your skin as you sank down on his length, biting your lip as he stretched your walls. 
“Merda,” Theodore cursed. “So fucking tight. C’mon pretty girl, that’s it. I know you can take all of me.” 
You shuddered a breath as he pushed inside. Theodore watched with hungry eyes as you took him inch by inch. It seemed never ending. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 
Tears pricked the back of your eyes. The stretch was an equal measure of pain and pleasure. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock and your pussy hugged around him as he throbbed inside of you. 
Theodore caressed your cheek. “It’s alright, little witch. I know you can take it. I’m yours, remember? Your partner-in-crime. So use me, dolcezza. You’re in charge tonight. Just set the pace and I’ll follow.”
The reassuring words encouraged you to slowly grind against him. Theodore hissed as you lifted your hips until only his tip was inside of you. His mouth was hot and needy against yours as you grinded down to take all of him again.
“Che cazzo,” Theodore murmured as he bottomed out.
The drag of his cock was delicious. He filled you to the hilt and pressed his hand on your stomach to feel his length buried deep inside of you. The tightness it caused made the both of you groan. You rolled your hips and set a steady pace, lowering onto his cock over and over again while you whimpered.
“Oh, fuck. It feels like you’re splitting me apart.”
Theodore groaned as he sucked and nipped at your neck. The heat of his tongue was everywhere, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would be a pain in the ass to cover, but you didn’t care as you continued to ride him.
“Salazar fucking save me, your pussy feels like heaven.”
Theodore chuckled darkly as you clenched around him. He untied the laces of your corset impatiently, freeing your breasts from the constraints. Theodore brushed his thumb over your hard nipples before taking one into his mouth. He watched with eager eyes as you moaned, sucking and swirling his tongue while you picked up the pace. 
“You look so pretty when you fuck me,” Theodore hummed as he flicked his tongue against your stiffened peaks. “Ride me harder, little witch. That’s it. Yeah, roll your hips just like that. Good girl.”
“Gods, I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mouth,” you said with a low laugh. “You’re always so quiet in class.”
“So we have a class together,” Theodore said as he thrusted upwards to match your pace. “I thought you sounded familiar.” 
“Is that so?” 
“It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite grasp it. I guess I’ll just have to pay extra attention to all the Gryffindor girls in my classes.”
“I’m a Gryffindor? How do you figure that?”
“Besides your entire personality? You seemed friendly with Granger and though you complain about the twins, I’d wager that you’re mates as well.” 
“Smart and handsome,” you said with a smirk.  “You’re full of surprises aren’t you, Jack?” 
Theodore smirked and thrusted sharply inside of you. “You have no idea, Sally.”
“I thought I was in charge tonight,” you said in a stern voice. 
“You are, but I think you could use a little encouragement. You’re holding back.” 
You circled your hips before lifting them and slamming back down. Theodore’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. 
“Does it feel like I’m holding back?” 
“I’m a patient man, but if you keep toying with me like this I might just have to fuck that attitude right out of you, little witch.” 
You tilted your chin up and smirked. “So do it.” 
All that bravado left your body as Theodore rutted into you. He drove his cock deep within you, stretching your walls until you were clawing at his back. Theodore grunted as you squelched and squeezed around his length. His pace was relentless and punishing, guiding your hips to bounce on his cock while you moaned in pleasure. 
“Oh gods, right there.” You cried out, burying your face into his neck. 
You inhaled his scent greedily and sank your teeth into his flesh. Theodore slowed his pace and chuckled darkly when you whined. 
“What’s the matter, little witch? Can’t take a dose of your own medicine?” 
“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Keep going. I’m so close.” 
“Beg me, darling. Tell me how desperate you are. I want to hear those pretty little words.” 
Theodore halted his movements, his tip barely inside of you as he teased along your folds. He held your hips in place so you couldn’t sink down to take more of him. Usually, you were used to taking charge, but the way he put you in your place had you creaming all over him. Needless to say, you weren’t above begging at this point. 
“Please, I need you. Fuck me harder. Give me everything. I can take it. Every fucking inch.”
“Merda, you’re fucking filthy. Begging for my cock like a good little slut. Brace yourself, bella. Remember that you asked for this.”
A whimper fell from your lips as Theodore bucked into your cunt. His cock impaled you, splitting you apart and knocking the very breath from your lungs as he fucked you roughly against the tree. He squeezed your ass, keeping a firm grip to secure you in place as he jackknifed into you. 
“Oh gods,” you sobbed, raking your nails underneath his shirt and dragging red lines all along his back. Theodore hissed as you clawed at him, thrusting so hard that your teeth rattled every time he drove into you. “Fuck, it’s too much.” 
Theodore grabbed your chin harshly. “No, it’s not. You begged to be fucked, now take my cock like the perfect little whore I know that you are, yeah?”
You nodded. Words escaped you at the moment. The filth coming out of Theodore’s mouth aroused you in more ways than one. Who knew that the silent Slytherin fucked like a god?
A stray tear rolled down your cheek. Theodore licked it away and chuckled as you whimpered. “Are you crying, sweetheart? Such pretty little sobs. Don’t worry, you’ll get your reward. You’ve been such a good girl for me and good girls get to cum.”
At that, Theodore rubbed your clit and pushed you over the edge. His fingers were magic against your sensitive bundle of nerves and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around him, making his hips stutter as the orgasm blindsided you. A scream echoed through the woods and it was only when Theodore covered your mouth when you realised that the sound had come from you. 
“Fuck,” Theodore cursed, dropping his forehead to yours. “Merda, I’m not gonna last much longer. Not when that pretty pussy of yours is milking me dry. Oh gods, I’m gonna cum—“
You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist as his body seized underneath you. Theodore bit into your flesh as he came, leaving a bruised purple mark on your collarbone. You had never seen anyone look as beautiful as he did when he lost control, lips parted, cheeks flushed, devil eyes rolling back as the orgasm thoroughly rocked him. 
The stillness that settled over the Forbidden Forest was almost eerie. The two of you looked at one another, dazed and confused as though you weren’t even sure who or where you were at the moment. Through all your romps, no one has ever put your body to the test like Theodore has. You could tell by his intense gaze that he likely felt the same. 
Theodore set you down gently. Compared to how rough he was a few moments ago, the contrast almost made you laugh. You heard the chime of the clock echo a beat later. 
Fuck. That only gave you a minute to sprint through the woods and make it back in time before the twins reached your clearing. You frantically re-tied your corset and straightened the skirts of your dress. Theodore was busy buckling his belt. 
“I have to go,” you said as you shrugged your robe back on. “I’ll see you around, Jack.”
“Wait, you never told me your name!” 
But Theodore was too late. You were already gone by the time he looked up. He sighed and started making his way back to the festivities. The last chime of the clock indicated that it was midnight. He could only hope that you’d gotten back in time. 
Theodore paused as something crunched underneath his feet. He peered down at the forest floor and found something golden peeking out amongst the leaves. With a smile, he picked up the golden mask. 
It looks like his mystery girl left him a clue after all. 
Theodore would find his Sally. 
He’d make sure of it. 
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Theodore couldn’t remember the last time he was this excited to attend class. 
After the All Hallow’s Eve party, he’d done everything he could to dig up information on his mystery girl. Theodore had even gone as far as to interrogate the Weasley twins, but as usual, the redheaded menaces were unnecessarily difficult about it. 
“Sorry, mate, but we don’t reveal the identity of our actors and actresses,” George said with a shit-eating grin. 
Fred nodded in agreement. “Confidentiality and all that. We wouldn’t want to go around spilling trade secrets. It’s bad for business.”
The weasels stayed mum even after Theodore offered them a ridiculous amount of money to reveal his mystery girl’s identity. Unfortunately, his desperation only served to intrigue the twins and the sadistic little gits seemed to derive pleasure in seeing Theodore grow more and more frustrated. 
“Best of luck to you, Nott,” Fred said with a little smile. “If you do end up finding her, you’ll need all the fortune you can get. She’s a feisty thing, that one.” 
“I know,” Theodore said with a glare. “That’s exactly why I want to find her.”
George chuckled. “Godric bless your heart.”
If the twats weren’t his main weed suppliers, Theodore would’ve punched their teeth in. Despite Fred and George’s general uselessness, he was in a good mood when Monday rolled around. Equipped with the knowledge that his mystery girl was in one of his classes, he made sure to pay extra attention to every Gryffindor girl. It was only a matter of time before he found her. 
“You’re smiling,” Enzo commented as he caught up to Theodore in the courtyard. “What’s happened? Did my cousin fall down the moving stairs again?”
Theodore snorted. “Even better, Berkshire. I’m going to find my mystery girl today and you’re going to help me.”
“How?” 
“You’re friends with literally everyone. Someone has to know who she is.”
“Hmm, come to think of it Mattheo’s girlfriend is good friends with a lot of the Gryffindor girls. I bet she’d know who it is.” 
“Good, let’s start there. Where is Chloe anyways?” 
“Probably in the Great Hall with Mattheo.”
The two of them headed over to where the rest of the castle was currently having breakfast. Enzo made a beeline for their usual table where Mattheo, Blaise, and Draco were seated, but Thedore didn’t follow. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Chloe seated with a girl who looked vaguely familiar to him. Theodore was sure that you had Charms together. More than that, you were wearing a red and gold tie. A Gryffindor. 
Theodore inched closer, skirting around the edges to listen in on the conversation. 
“How was your weekend?” 
Theodore froze. He knew that voice. It was husky and seductive and sounded exactly like how his mystery girl had when she’d whispered in his ear. 
It was you. 
It had to be. 
“It was good,” Chloe responded with a grin. “Really good.” 
“Mattheo found you after all, then?” 
“He did and suffice to say he liked the second part of my costume more than the first.” 
You laughed in response. Chloe leaned in and lowered her voice. “What about you? You disappeared from the speakeasy, so I’m assuming I’m not the only one who had an eventful night.”
“It was fine.” 
“Just fine?” 
You flushed, biting your bottom lip. “It was the best lay of my life.” 
Theodore smirked. So it wasn’t just him, then. The sex had truly been something else entirely. He had been confident that you must’ve felt the same way in the moment, but doubt crept in since you’d run off so abruptly. Now he had confirmation and it was satisfying as hell to hear you say it. 
“There you are,” Enzo said from behind him. “I brought Mattheo, so we can ask Chloe about your mystery girl.”
“That little witch of yours really put a spell on you, huh, Nott?” Mattheo teased. “Let’s go, then. Maybe my girl can help.”
Chloe looked up and smiled as Mattheo leaned down to kiss her. You glanced up at the exact moment that Theodore came into view. He clocked the way your cheeks flushed as your gaze landed on him.
“You know my boyfriend,” Chloe said. You nodded at Mattheo who shot you a polite smile back. “That’s Enzo and Theo. Boys, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet the boys.” 
Theodore took your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Hello, Sally.” 
You smiled back in return. “Hello, Jack.”
Chloe’s eyes widened, immediately taking stock of the situation. Mattheo and Enzo were slower to catch on, but luckily she ushered the boys away. 
“We’ll give you two some privacy.” 
You tried not to laugh as Chloe winked behind Theodore’s back. 
“I found you.” 
“So it seems.” 
“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore,” he said as he pulled out the golden mask from his backpack. Theodore’s intense gaze swept over you, cataloguing your features. 
“You kept it,” you said with a small smile. 
“I would’ve returned it sooner if you hadn’t left in such a haste after we—“
“Fucked in the woods?” 
You were amused to find Theodore blushing. “I was going to say hooked up, but I suppose that’s another way to put it. Anyways, you left in such a hurry. You didn’t even give me your name.”
“Didn’t really think you wanted me to stay.”
“Are you kidding? I haven’t been about to think about anything else since that night. You’ve taken over my thoughts. It’s fucking maddening.” Theodore caressed your cheek and tilted your chin so he could look at you better. “My mystery girl. You’re more beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined.” 
“Well, you have the real thing now. It’s your move, Jack.”
Theodore shook his head. “No, not Jack. Theo. That’s the name you’ll be screaming from now on. After I take you out on a proper date.”
You raised a brow. “What makes you think I’ll say yes?”
The devilish grin on his face sent shivers down your spine. “You’re really going to turn down the best lay of your life?” Your eyes widened, which made him smile even wider. “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people. So, what do you say?” 
“Pick me up at eight. Don’t be late, Theo.” 
Theodore winked. “It’s a date, Y/N.”
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dollfacefantasy · 17 days ago
Note
dark and mean Rick X whiny reader, s5 beard era??? (Ugh loveee😩) maybe reader annoyed him so he fucks her attitude away<3
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NO BACK TALK ♡
pairing: rick grimes x bratty!fem!reader
cw: nsfw (18+), p in v, brat taming, age gap (20s, late 30s), daddy kink
a/n: brat tamer rick you know that's my shit 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank you for the request <33
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"What was it? What were you saying back there?" Rick's raspy voice huffs against your ear.
A shiver goes down your spine as his hot breath lands on your skin. Sharp contrast to the cool night air all around. Your body is already shaky enough from his hips' brutal thrusts against your ass.
He has you pinned against the back wall of the church, split open on his cock. This spot is close enough to the safety of the group while providing the privacy he needs to have his way with you. Your cheek squishes against the wood, a small stream of drool trickling South on your chin.
"N-nothing," you whimper, "Was just trying to tell you- ah! Just wanted to tell you..."
Your voice trails off as the sentiment of your point becomes less important than the bliss Rick's length is battering into you. Soft moans drift from your lips as your mouth hangs open. He tuts and shakes his head, pressing more of his weight into you and rutting against your backside with more force.
"You're still tryin' to talk back?" he asks, "Still think you had a reason to give me all that attitude?"
"I said I was sorry," you whine, bottom lip jutting out on instinct.
This is the game you play with Rick. You're sure by now everyone else is sick of being unwilling bystanders to it, but you can never get enough. Ever since you met the older man, the two of you mixed together like a stray match in a keg of gunpowder.
He tries his hardest to lead this group. You know that's true. But life fucking sucks in the apocalypse. It's not your fault if you get a little fed up with things sometimes.
You take it out on him cause it's easy. You disagree with his plans without coming up with any of your own. You complain about assignments you're given. You whine about the lack of supplies and direction. You roll your eyes and sigh during minor disagreements while nearly throwing a fit for larger ones.
For the first six months he knew you, it drove him fucking crazy. He went to sleep at night dreading waking up because he knew he'd have to deal with you the next day. At one point, he was convinced that he'd die of high blood pressure before any walker got the chance to kill him.
But then he figured out the secret to dealing with you. It wasn't too long before the prison fell that he learned this little trick. The two of you were the only ones awake, and you had another huge fight about some inconsequential bullshit. He was supremely frustrated. You weren't showing any signs of conceding that you were being ridiculous either.
It's like a blur in his memory now, the way he pinned you against the hard brick wall. He tore open the tiny shorts you had on. And that was when he learned. Your pretty little pussy was like your control center. He just had to hit the right buttons to bring you back to normal.
Now when you act up, he gives you the chance to fix it. You'll say something in that pitchy tone of voice and pout at him, and he'll raise a brow. He'll ask you to repeat yourself. If you continue the challenge, he still tries to be civil and talk you down. But once you push too far, you end up with a firm hand wrapped around your wrist, dragging you away from the rest of the group.
That's what happened tonight.
He scoffs at your assertion that you'd apologized. "You said sorry when you realized you were in trouble," he grumbles.
His fingers dig into your waist, feeling the soft skin left exposed by your t-shirt that's riding up. Your toes curl inside your sneakers while your fingernails scrape against the chipping paint of the church's paneling.
"I still meant it," you insist.
"If you're so sorry, tell me why I have to teach you this same fuckin' lesson over and over again," he growls.
"I dunno... cause you didn't do it good enough the first time?" you offer.
He gives your hip a smack for that and shoves you harder against the wall with a forearm across your back. You can feel the cool silver of his watch on your shoulder blade. Your tits are just as smooshed as your cheek is now. You whine in response, your feet floundering against the dirt below, but he keeps fucking into you hard.
"Cute. Keep talking back like that and see where it gets you," he says.
"I was just joking, daddy," you respond with a little sniffle for maximum impact.
"Oh, I'm daddy now?" he mocks. Neither of your attempts at sympathy seem to have struck a chord. "I'm daddy when you want me to be nice to you, but not any other time. Do I have that right?"
"Nuh uh..."
"Yeah. You won't listen to me. Won't do anything I ask without givin' me hell. But the second you get tired of taking it like a big girl, I'm your daddy," he taunts.
You squeak as he yanks your hips against his pelvis particularly hard. His tip rams right into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your knees start to buckle beneath you.
He watches as you really begin to slip. With a sigh, he pulls his cock out of your dripping hole. You whine about that too, of course, but you don't have time to complain before he flips you around and hooks his hands behind your knees. He folds you in half against the wall and slides right back into the slick heat of your cunt. His hips rock against you like they never stopped.
"Look at you. You think you have any right to question me when you can't even stand up on your own? When y'need daddy to do everything for you," he mutters.
You mewl and arch your back, but he keeps you exactly where he wants you. His shaft slams into you over and over, chasing the feeling of your walls clamping down on it. You can't fight back against what he's saying cause any semblance of cohesive argument has been fucked right out of you.
"Did-didn't mean it," you choke out.
"Then say sorry like you mean it," he breathes.
He pumps into you harder and deeper, making it difficult for you to answer. But you try your best because you're getting close, and after you cum, it'll be damn near impossible.
"I- I'm sorry, daddy. Didn't mean to make you mad. I'll try to be good and listen," you say before a whine cracks your voice and causes your head to drop forward.
He nudges your face up with his nose before rewarding you with a kiss. "That's my girl," he mumbles, "Gonna listen for me. Accept that you don't know what's best, hm? That you need me to take care of you and make the decisions?"
You nod with your quivering lip and glossy eyes.
That gets a little smirk on his lips, and he kisses your pout once more. His hand snakes around to thumb at your clit. The rapid fire swipes are all you need to topple over the edge and let go. You tense up and cover your own mouth, muffling your cries with your palm.
"There you go. Let it out," he grunts.
He grits his teeth, holding on long enough to fuck you through your high. As soon as you start to come down though, he pulls out and spills his seed onto the dirt beneath you.
His body shudders against yours, another set of harsh breaths blowing against your neck. You lean your head against his. The sweat that dampens his scalp smears on your cheek.
The both of you hold the position for a few moments longer before beginning to untangle. He sets you back on the ground, keeping his hands on your waist until he's sure you're stable. You pull your discarded shorts back on and adjust your shirt while he zips himself up.
When you're put together again, he grabs your wrist like he'd done earlier but with a more gentle touch. He pulls you flush against his body and encircles you with his arms, keeping you pressed to his chest. His hand rubs up and down your back in soothing strokes.
"My baby. All tuckered out and settled down for me now, yeah?" he whispers.
You nod, your eyes already feeling droopy with the calm that comes after release. His embrace is so warm it lulls you further into this docile, dreamy state.
Rick rolls his eyes again, but there's not as much irritation this time. A good fuck mellows him out just like it does you. Plus, in moments like these, he can admit to himself that he has a small soft spot for his little brat.
He sways back and forth with you for a few moments, planting occasional kisses on the top of your head.
"You gonna behave when we go back inside?" he murmurs.
"Yeah," you answer softly.
"That's my girl," he says, patting your ass before turning you loose. He lets you walk back around to the entrance first. While he has a great time putting you back in line, these trysts aren't really something he wants the whole group being hyper aware of. It's after a few minutes have gone by that he heads in himself, ready to mix back in with everyone else as if nothing had happened.
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floralscented · 1 month ago
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dean winchester x angel!reader — take a shot or six.
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or, dean's feeling it five in, but he's not going to let you win. or, dove beats dean at his own game.
cw, drinking, alcohol, tipsy dean sjkefdh, sexual tension SORRY
word count:
notes, by @depressionbarbie2023's suggestion... except i make it more tension riddled because i like my cute stuff with a dash of spice hehehe HOPE U LIKE IT STILL
★ ˚⋆
how were you supposed to know that the glass decanter on the accent table next to dean's chair was whiskey? he's staring at you now, like you just killed his entire family with your bare hands, as you hold a crystal glass full of it in between your nimble fingers.
you blink. his eye twitches.
"do you know how long that whiskey aged before it got to me?" he asks you slowly, like any of those words or processes are meant to ring any sort of bell in your head.
you shake your head. "why... do you let a drink age?"
another eye twitch. "enrichens the flavor." he nods toward the glass in your hand, nearly spilling over the brim. quickly, you raise the glass to try and alleviate the problem, sipping on the overflowing top loudly. "tastes good, doesn't it?"
your shoulders lift in a mindless shrug. it burns in your throat for a split second, but other than that, it tastes like caramelized oak, like wind through a nighttime forest, as sweet and secretive.
"what do you mean by—" his shoulders lift now, in a mockery of your shrug, which does nothing but make your head tilt in confusion. dean's quirks were something you were used to, at this point, but never before had you not been able to clue together why he was behaving like he was. "that's a 15-year old whiskey you're drinking like water. gimme that."
his boots echo on the solid floor as he stomps up to you, snatching the crystal glass from your fingers, letting the liquid slosh over the top and onto the both of your hands. dean gestures with his head again, his lips pursed in that look that you think, honestly, is reserved solely for you. "c'mon. lick it up. no wasting this shit."
being bossed around, and being bossed around by dean, is something you don't often let fly. his eyes stay on you as he lifts the glass to his lips, taking his own mindful sip, slow and deliberate like he's working it around his tongue before he swallows. much to the opposite of how you'd been throwing back the entirety of the decanter.
"oh, jesus christ," he grumbles when you actually do start to lick it off of your skin, the salt and the sweet burn making a surprisingly decent flavor, to his clear chagrin.
like always, it seems you do the wrong thing. since he'd shown you how to drive baby, arms around your body as he held you steady, dean had been pulling back. he was already a bit distant, but now? it felt like you were strangers all over again, and he wouldn't tell you what you'd done wrong.
it didn't stop you from coming around, though; your duty was to help the winchesters, and unfortunately for dean, helping him through his disdain for you was a part of that.
his lips stay pushed together in that signature irritated dean look, wrinkles embedded in the corners of his mouth, eyes betraying nothing of the thoughts in his head.
"i'm sorr—"
"don't even start," dean shoots back sternly, turning to weave out of the pillars of the living space and toward the kitchen area. naturally, you're inclined to follow him, your lips already downturned into a frown that could only be described as insistent. why couldn't he see or accept that you were sorry? "don't even know what you're apologizin' for."
he's opening cabinets too tall for you to reach with his free hand, eyes narrowing as he searches for something. "yes i do," you say fiercely, hurt flashing across your face at the accusation. "i upset you, and for that i'm sorry."
"oh, no, dove," he says with a little laugh, setting the crystal decanter on the countertop, using that hand to hold his weight as he reached deep into the cluttered cabinet. "you did not upset me. well," another tip of his lips into that unreadable expression, "i was, but not genuinely."
you blink at him, confusion melting into the hurt look on your face. "that does not make any sense."
"you see everything in black and white, dove," he says, a bottle of deep caramel liquid in his grip. his free hand goes to the crystal tumbler, a frown gracing his pretty expression, "two things can be true at once. i can be upset and not upset at the same time."
your mouth opens to answer him, but closes. his eyebrows flick up in amusement. "you should know that, with how often you give me that look. confused but not confused." he lets out a deep sigh through his nostrils. "christ, this is like, minimum five fingers of whiskey. whole damn hand's worth."
"there are no fingers in that." you watch as he lifts the glass to his mouth, his eyes locked and intense on yours the entire time. he downs half of it at once. "and it is inappropriate to say that."
"oh, piss off," he murmurs into the open mouth of the glass, though his eyes glimmer now, while they stay locked on yours.
your deep frown becomes a hesitant smile. no, maybe he is not-not mad anymore, actually.
he finishes the glass off with a groan that is entirely too sinful to be able to be created by one human man, albeit one that's been to hell and back. "see, this is why m'not pissed at you," dean says, voice thick and raspy as he tips the glass in your direction. "because i've got a helluva tolerance, and that burns. you... you drank that entire decanter like it was fuckin' kool-aid."
a pause and a blink. "juice. like juice. m'not explainin' kool-aid to you today. not in the mood."
his nails tap lightly on the countertop, drawing your attention there. "m'gonna guinea pig the shit outta you real quick."
"guinea pig?" your voice is a soft mutter of confusion. "you cannot—"
the sound of something popping open makes you blink in surprise, caught off guard by the sound of the cork popping free from the bottle on the countertop. "we're gonna play a game, dove. s'all you need to worry that pretty, confused little head about."
"oh."
dean pours a sip's worth into the crystal glass, before he pauses with the bottle in the air, and pours another of the same amount in. then, he passes the glass to you. "bottoms up."
"you are not getting me to show you my bottom, dean," you say sternly, with so much more authority than anyone could expect from an angel with a glass of whiskey in your fingers.
dean actually laughs. it's such a nice sound, hearty and rare these days. you wish you could bottle it up and cork it instead of what's already in there. surely, whatever it was wasn't as good as the sound of cackling. "means drink up, dove."
if only he'd actually just said that. you fluster, but you attempt to hide it behind the glass as you raise it to your mouth and sip it down in one gulp.
he tips his head in a small nod, eyebrows to his hairline, watching you with a look you can't explain in his eyes. impress? shock? affection? they're all things he rarely shows you, especially anymore. "what?"
dean raises his hands in mock surrender. "you just tossed back at least an eight hundred dollar double shot like juice, dove. let a man be impressed."
you choke belatedly. that little amount was eight hundred dollars? no wonder he'd been so angry, when he'd stumbled into you finishing off the bottle in the living space.
"nuh uh, pretty thing," he wags his finger, before the motion becomes a snap until you hand him back the glass, "no gettin' shy now. i wanna see you off your ass."
you bristle at that. "you have an obsession with my... my ass."
dean's grin becomes downright wicked. "yeah, i do."
the words take a second to register, and by the time they do, he's turned back and pouring another two shots worth into the glass. thankfully, too, because the last thing you want is for him to see the flush of pink on your cheeks.
"c'mon. one more." dean turns, holding the glass out for you. his eyes are a little glazed, and he seems lighter on his feet. not so tense around you as he'd been for weeks. you suck your lip between your teeth as you debate it, a little nervous, admittedly, to know what it's like to be off your ass. "nope. none of that."
his free hand cups your cheek suddenly, thumb dragging your bottom lip out of your mouth. "what?" you say, blinking your confusion. "none of what?"
"that," he answers, waving his hand in a broad gesture in front of your face. "m'feelin' too warm and buzzy to watch you bite your lip like a little temptress right now."
temptress. you? just because you'd— "oh." you feel your heart skip in your chest, and the feel of it nearly makes you jump. too close. he's too close. did you always feel like this when he was near, or was this one of those new feelings you stumbled across sometimes, that left you a bit breathless in your confusion?
the glass in his hand presses to your puffed bottom lip, the coolness of it dragging it open further, until it's in a little open o-shape. dean is close enough that you can hear the shudder in his inhale. you wonder, for a second, if it's because his heart, too, is stumbling over itself in his chest.
he begins to tip it back, pouring it in a slow stream between your parted lips. "yeah, that's a good girl," he mumbles, his voice rougher than you've heard it before. the praises always make you feel headier than usual, warm all over like the whiskey felt in your throat. "little more, c'mon. i know you can take it. yeah, just like that."
your eyes are locked on his the entire time, and you watch in real time as his pupils double in size, the green of his irises disappearing into a thin ring. once the glass is empty, he holds it to your lips a blink longer than necessary, his own mouth parted with words he didn't yet say.
another blink, and the glass is away from your mouth, and he's at the sink, back turned to you. "feel it yet?"
your hands do feel warm, like static runs through your veins, like each of your movements is more fluid. "i feel... something."
dean turns on the stream of the faucet, rinsing the glass out in silence. but softer than a breath, you hear him say, "yeah. so am i, dove."
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tags,
@figthoughts, @jasvtsc, @titsout4nicholas, @deanswidow, @whyyouegg,
@bombarda-babe, @whisperingwillowxox, @underground-secret,
@bitchykittenconnoisseur, @jensenacklesantidote,
@keira-kaz2y5
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avis-writeshq · 10 months ago
Note
not me asking for it https://www.tumblr.com/avis-writeshq/744966259884556288/if-someone-asks-for-it-ill-write-a-fic-based-on?source=share
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pairing: s9!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff, established relationship, SMUT warnings: 18+ CONTENT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !! oral fem receiving, spencer reid is a munch, hair pulling, fingering a/n: a promise is a promise !! based off of this post <3 i hope this lived up to expectations !! first time writing fem oral ha h a ha wc: 1.1k
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Honestly, if there’s one person Spencer can blame for the situation he is currently in, he blames himself. After all, he should have known that a ‘gathering’ at Rossi’s house that was planned by Penelope would only call for a lot of teasing, a lot of ‘get to know each other!’ games (despite the fact that he has worked with this same team for more than seven years. What else is there to know?), and a lot of alcohol. He didn’t quite realise that these games would be of the drinking variety. Alas, here he is, sitting on one of Rossi’s incredibly expensive leather couches and cringing at the horrid taste of whiskey. 
The game they’re currently playing is an alcoholic’s rendition of ‘who is most likely to?’, involving a thick stack of cards with different topics while each member of the team took turns reading out. Whoever ended up with the most amount fingers pointed in their direction was forced to drink.
Spencer hates this game. He has drank from his cup a grand total of six times, and he is not getting any more used to the spicy-poison-equivalent in his hand. 
“Alright, this is a good one,” Derek announces with a manic snigger. “Who here is most likely to be a munch?”
There is no hesitation in anyone’s answers, and all six fingers point into Spencer’s direction. His jaw drops at the betrayal, his head spinning from the sheer amount of shots he had to take but also what the hell is a munch?
“I don’t even know what that means!” He insists. 
“Oh–” Penelope wears a half delighted half pitying expression at his words. “We really need to get you onto the internet more. Reddit is probably up your alley.”
“Even Rossi knows what it means,” Emily cackles, gesturing to Rossi who looks all too pleased. “Hotch was my second option though.”
Aaron shrugs, sipping at his drink. “Guilty.”
A chorus of laughs and shrieks erupt from the group, leaving Spencer even more confused. “What?”
“Don’t Google it,” JJ chimes in. “Seriously.”
Spencer nods, and although he knows that he should have taken the warning seriously, the curiosity was getting to him and he had no choice but to search it up as soon as he got home. He gets the usual answers– the etymology of the word, what it means in the Oxford Dictionary, the popularity of the word since the early 1800s, and he really doesn’t understand what the fuss is. Does the team think that he eats loudly? Or that he chews with his mouth open? His brows furrow at the unsightly thought. 
His interest soon shifts to a different a different link, namely The Urban Dictionary. He blinks, clicking on the link without much thought and– oh. He does not get much sleep that night.
*** 
Your relationship with Spencer isn’t a secret. At least, it was never supposed to be classified as such. He is simply an incredibly private person that even his closest friends don’t know that you exist. It simply never popped up in conversation– or so he says.
The relationship isn’t necessarily new either. It’s nearing the one year mark and you have gotten to the point where the two of you have been more ‘experimental’ when it comes to sex. He finds it embarrassing. You find it unsurprising that he would. You find it even more surprising when he breaks a kiss halfway to lower you onto his bed, your head falling to one of his very expensive memory foam pillows. 
“I want to try something,” he announces softly into your ear, squeezing gently at your waist and looping his fingers into his shorts. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, body hot with anticipation as he pulls down your shorts. It’s only when he brings his face between your thighs do you realise what he intends to do. “Spence, you don’t have to–”
“I want to,” he repeats softly, his fingers running up and down the lacy fabric at your slit. “If you want me to stop, you can tell me.”
You shake your head immediately at that, your hands moving to his grip his shoulders. “No, I don’t want you to stop but– but Spence, this is the first time you’ve done this. It’s okay–”
“Let me do this for you,” he says, his breath ghosting against the sensitive skin of your thighs. “I’ve done my research.”
“What–”
You’re silenced as soon as he presses his lips to your cunt, only separated by your pretty lacy underwear. He groans quietly at the taste of your slick seeping through the fabric, and his hands hold onto your thighs to keep them parted. It’s so good, so good, but it just isn’t enough. He pushes the fabric to the side, watching the way it clings and sticks to your skin. 
All it takes is one swipe of his tongue on your pretty clit for his brain to grow blank. The grip he has on your thighs grow firmer and his fingers dig in hard enough to leave little marks. His nose bumps against your clit while his tongue travels against your folds. 
“You taste so fucking good,” he breathes against you, lapping at your dripping cunt. “Fuck, angel, you’re so beautiful.”
Then, he’s on you all over again. His lips wrap around your clit and he whines into you as he sucks at the bundle of nerves. Each one of his actions has your back lifting from the bed and your hands tugging at his curls, to which he responds with a quiet moan. Amidst the pleasure, your mind nags you to be gentle, and you loosen your grip despite it taking all of your self control.
“Do that again.” He says it as a demand, guiding your hands back into his hair. “Do it again, angel.”
His head is spinning and he craves for more of you, his tongue flattening against your clit over and over again. He brings his own fingers to brush against your entrance, coating them with your slick before slipping his middle finger inside. It’s only the first knuckle but it’s enough to have you squirming beneath him. He pushes further until it reaches all the way, and Spencer groans at the feeling of you tightening around him. He kisses your clit again at the same time he curls his finger inside you and it’s all too much. 
“Spence–”
You gush around his finger and he licks and laps at your pussy like he needs it to breathe. His finger curls open and closed inside you while you rock your hips against his face, your grip on his hair tightening as each second of your high passes. 
“So good,” Spencer moans, kissing your clit. “Taste so good. You can do one more, right, angel? Just one more, I promise.”
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reblogs are always appreciated !!
tagging the people who commented on the original post: @mosaicbrokenherz @doigettokeepyou @goblinintheblog @cassioxpeiaxmgg @daddytenebra @lilliumrorum @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @lightreiding
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fayes-fics · 4 months ago
Text
The Secrets We Keep: Pt I
Part II >>
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you…
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Warnings: none yet… fluff and angst. Childhood friends, yearning, arranged marriage, kissing. Pt II will contain a warning/rating change.
Word Count: 5.1k (this part)
Authors Note: Part 1 of 2. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. I won't post your ask yet, as it contains spoilers for the second half. Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. I’m in the process of writing Pt II, so there will be a gap between instalments. Enjoy! 🫶
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-i-
For as long as you can remember, you have loved one man secretly. To the point that you cannot imagine your life without a deep, burning affection simmering in your very core, as fundamental to your existence as drawing air into your lungs.
Benedict Bridgerton.
Your families have been neighbours in Mayfair and Kent for many generations—two aristocratic dynasties that, despite enduring friendships, have never seen intermarriage. There have been attempted matches down the years, according to family lore, but nothing came to fruition. 
So when you were brought to Aubrey Hall as a mere babe in arms, the eldest daughter, there were many good-natured jokes that Anthony’s future wife had been born. But the Viscount, wonderful as he is, was not the man who stole your heart just a few short years later. A bright sunny day in June that you suspect Benedict may not even be able to recall, but you can with perfect clarity, even now, some fifteen years later. 
He picked you as the first person to join his team for a round of garden games. Paying you heed and ensuring you were included, patiently showing you the ropes and applauding your achievements, ignoring the ridicule from the other twelve-year-old boys for letting a girl - and a little five-year-old at that - join in their games. 
Ever since that day, all you have ever seen is his enormous heart and steadfast empathy: always the one to reach out to those excluded, to be supportive, and to love harder and more expansively than his siblings. Thus, unsurprisingly, he became the focus of your singular devotion—a childish adoration transmuting into something more profound and complicated as you matured.
On your fourteenth birthday, your mother gifted you a thick notebook. And it became your refuge, the private canvas on which you outlet your innermost secrets and thoughts. The beautiful but now slightly battered, silk-covered tome is still your most treasured possession even now, more than six years later, so close to filled now, with only a couple of blank pages left. Never long from your hands, but when it must be, carefully stashed under the floorboards of your bedroom. Its pages the reflection of a naive, growing heart. There is one person who features frequently on its crammed, jumbled pages. Sketches of his handsome face, mostly from memory, interspersed with ardent notes and poems that, while they may not mention his name, are written for him. Adoration writ large in every pen and pencil stroke.
Little were you to know that the secrets you keep within its hallowed pages would one day alter the course of your life…
-ii-
It's the evening of the Bridgerton Ball, and usually, you would be brimming with anticipation for such an occasion, a chance to see the man who holds your most ardent admiration. Instead, you find yourself glum, mechanically stepping into the dress your ladies' maid Rachel assists you with, staring blankly into the vanity mirror as she adorns your hair with jewels. Still reeling from your father's shocking announcement the previous day.
The inheritance of a European title had seen him spend eighteen months abroad. In his absence last spring, you were able to persuade your more indulgent mother to delay your societal debut—a yearning to be free in the ways you know no woman really can be for long. A compounding factor was spending the summer in the Highlands with her sister, your Aunt Eliza, a spirited, independent woman who taught you many things and encouraged your artistic whims. And when you were back in London, your mother’s somewhat inattentive running of the house meant you were often able to slip away in the evenings, spending your time deepening your passion for art. Frequenting galleries and conversing with artists led to you being drawn into the bohemian, artsy underbelly of Bloomsbury, a beguiling, exotic contrast to Mayfair. Another secret you keep.
Upon his return to England, your father was not best pleased to learn that not only had you been allowed to skip the previous Season, but Eliza had also taught you to fish, fence and hunt—most unladylike pursuits in his opinion. He, therefore, made it his mission to ensure not only would you debut this year but also a swift match should be made, lest you “get other fanciful, dangerous ideas”.
Perhaps that is why, yesterday, nary two weeks into your first season, he abruptly announced over afternoon tea that he had secured a match for you and the man in question would be dining with you all that evening. A deal no doubt brokered in a private gentleman’s club as if you were merely chattel to be traded.
Revulsion filled your every fibre as you were introduced to Lord Farringdon a few hours later. A wiry man twenty years your senior with a hawk-like countenance and a disdainful disposition. Apparently, a brilliant intellectual mind but accompanied by a mercurial, malevolent reputation. You had read in Whistledown rumours about his mistreatment of his household staff and his previous wife. A forlorn figure who became a recluse long before she died of consumption tragically young. The idea of being betrothed to this cold, abusive man turned your stomach—a seemingly outsized punishment for your rebellion. Once the man left, you had begged and pleaded with your father to reconsider the arrangement, but sadly, your appeal fell on deaf ears. 
And so here you are. Going to a ball at which your father plans to announce your engagement. The stately beauty of Bridgerton House is not as heartening of a sight as it typically is. Tonight, it feels more akin to a gallows.
As soon as you arrive, you are scanning the crowds for the only friend you know will understand just how ghastly your predicament is—Eloise Bridgerton. A kindred spirit whose interest in marriage is as scant as your own. Bonding over your similar yearnings for freedom, you have been good friends since you were little, many a day spent together as children running through the Kentish fields, escaping expectation and flouting convention.
Acutely aware of time running out until your father speaks up, you fiddle distractedly with your fan, impatiently awaiting her entrance.
“For heaven's sake, y/n, please cease your fidgeting!” your mother chastises under her breath, snatching away the item. “I do not see why you are so agitated. Tonight is to be a wonderful occasion for you!”
A myriad of caustic comments are on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. The last thing you want is to draw attention, and you certainly don't want to be gossip fodder; these ballrooms are a veritable hotbed of eavesdropping if Whistledown is anything to go by. 
When the collective Bridgerton family finally enter their ballroom as hosts, however, your eyes can't help but drift to Benedict instead. A reflex from years of longing, even though it is his sister,  arm looped into his, whose counsel you seek tonight. You excuse yourself to fetch a lemonade as soon as you spy a window of opportunity—Eloise standing alone, looking excessively bored. Abandoning your glass, you hurry over to her.
“I have news…”  You try to keep your voice neutral but grab her arm and practically drag her away from anyone within earshot.
“Well, it cannot be good if you are willing to rip my arm off to impart it,” she remarks dryly as you lead her down a hallway.
“It is not,” you pull a face that you know will convey to her the gravity of what you need to divulge.
With a nod of understanding and a look to a nearby footman, she leads you beyond him into an area of the house off-limits for guests. 
“Tell me…” her tone is sincere as she ushers you into the library and closes the door.
“My father has seen fit to arrange a marriage for me. He is planning to announce it tonight, right here at your family ball!”
She says nothing, only a sympathetic noise as she pulls you into a consoling hug. The emotions you have been tamping down for hours escape as a couple of bitter tears, her arms banding tight around you. You are not sure how long, but you stand in a hug, just grateful for her steadfast support.
“What am I to do?” you whisper.
“I do not know,” she confesses. “Have you tried to reason with your father?”
“A hopeless cause…”  
Her mouth twists in understanding, knowing you will have put up a spirited defence as much as she would have. She detangles from you and goes to a nearby brandy decanter.
“It's the very least you deserve, frankly,” she points out, handing you a glass and pulling you into a loveseat with her, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, clinking her glass against yours in a silent but bittersweet toast about your seemingly futile situation.
-iii-
Half an hour later, your parents are distracted across the far side of the room with friends when a large hand grabs yours out of the blue. You startle when you realise it is Benedict, your heart suddenly in your mouth. Before you know it, you are wordlessly being pulled out of the French doors behind you and into the night air.
“Where are we going!?” you demand when you recover from the initial surprise, his gloved hand tugging yours along through the darkened gardens. 
“Shh, make haste, we must not be seen,” he hushes you but keeps moving, furtive and fast, your feet having to take extra steps to keep up with his long stride over the lush, dewy grass.
“Benedict…” you try again once you round a thick hedge into the rose garden.  “What is going on?”
He slows a little but does not relinquish his tight hold. Gravel path now crunching under his boots as the honeyed scent of damask hangs heavy in the air. 
“Eloise told me,” is all he offers. “So we are escaping.”
“W-we are?” you stutter, frowning, a claggy tumult behind your ribs at his use of ‘we’. 
“Yes! Or at least we would be if you would keep quiet… please…” he amends, sounding a touch contrite about his initial brusqueness, but speeding up again, headed straight for a small wooden door in a high stone wall, almost hidden behind long, draping ropes of ivy, glowing silver in the moonlight.
When you reach it, he releases his grip on your hand and shoulders the door open with considerable force. The weathered wood creaks loudly, almost splintering under the duress. He signals to the inky blackness of the deserted mews behind Bridgerton House.
“It is now or never, y/n,” he warns as you look back at the house, lit up with the life of the ball inside. “So what is your choice?”
He may be presenting it as an option, but really, you know there would only ever be one answer. You would accompany him to the ends of the earth if he so much as asked. And so wordlessly, you step through the doorway and into the narrow street beyond.
“Good choice,” he compliments as he follows suit and closes the door behind him. “You may stay at my friend Granville’s tonight,” he offers sagely, “I have not seen him in a while, but I will explain when we arrive; I am certain he can provide shelter.”
“Benedict, I already know Henry… Quite well, in fact.”
He looks taken aback as if it had not occurred to him that you may move in the same clandestine circles as he does. To be fair, you have always been discreet in your outings, and it’s not something you have divulged to anyone, including Eloise. Still, what confounds you more is why he is suddenly so seemingly invested in seeing you escape from your predicament. It doesn't entirely make sense.
“Well, then,” he cuts into your brief reverie, “you know Henry is a generous host and discreet about the affairs of others. Your father will not come looking for you there. It will buy some time to figure out what to do next. To ensure your freedom.”
“Freedom?” You scoff. “Benedict, as much as I may wish it, there is no other path open to me. Tonight is merely a delay tactic at best. The only way to stop my father’s pursuit of this union is if I marry another….”
The admittance of this truth out loud makes you restless, belatedly realising that it truly is your only way out. You stalk towards the main road, the faint glow of the street lamp guiding your way over the cobbles. You soon hear Benedict’s footsteps behind.
“That is ridiculous!” he exclaims as he attempts to catch up with you. “There are other options available to you…”
“Such as?” you whip around, raising your hands, countering his assertion. When he falters, you return to walking, throwing a tart addition over your shoulder: “Unlike you, a man, I do not have the freedom of choice.” 
“You should always have a choice…” he counters earnestly, still catching up to your furious pace.
“Should and do are different things, Benedict. You do not even know how lucky you are!” You add bitterly, rounding onto the main street.
A gust of wind causes you to pause and a shiver to run down your arms, your gauzy dress not enough to ward off the unseasonable chill in the air tonight. Ever the observant gentleman, Benedict shucks his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Uncharitably, your ire makes you attempt to shake it off, even while knowing it is intended purely as a chivalrous gesture. You are surprised when he seems to grasp your shoulders tighter, holding the heavy velvet in place. It is cloaked in his woodsy, citrus scent, your vexed state turning into an entirely different type of flush as he crowds closer to you.
“My birth has allowed me certain privileges, I concede,” he replies, his stare seemingly far away as you are unable to look anywhere but the dampness of his bottom lip, shimmering slightly in the lamplight. Then he tilts his head down to meet your eyes. “But that does not mean I am able to have everything I wish for in life, y/n…”
Your tongue burns to ask what it is that he wants but cannot have, yet you do not allow yourself to pry. But seeing the wistfulness in his gaze deflates your irritation, your long-held adoration for this man taking over, making you sigh.
‘You deserve the world, Benedict….’
His face morphs into one of breathtaking intensity, and you realise, horrified, you spoke those thoughts aloud. 
“As do you, y/n,” he murmurs, eyes sincere, your heart beating wildly as his chest vibrates against your own. 
The upheaval of the last day, the man you secretly adore abetting a somewhat daring escape, your heated exchange of words, the lateness of the hour, and the feel of his tall, lithe body pressed against yours…. It's all a dangerous cocktail that culminates in you being utterly impetuous, pushing up onto your tiptoes and mashing your mouth against his with no thought.
His lips are plush and warm, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. It's like a cannon firing in your chest as his warm mouth opens yours. Suddenly, you are urgently taking from each other. A sweeping tidal wave through you obliterates any kissing experiences you have ever had before. It’s a desperate slide of tongues, a passionate continuation of your sparring. His hands are like a hot brand through your thin dress as they sweep around to your back, tugging you into him, his heat, scent and taste overwhelming.
But all too soon you are pulling apart, a need for air in your lungs overriding the spontaneous, reckless moment. For a few seconds, you stare at each other, breathing each other's panted air, hands still grasping onto each other, almost confused by what just occurred… until the whinny of a passing horse carriage has you springing apart as if burned. 
Realisation engulfs his entire being. “Oh god! Please, please forgive me!” he stutters, backing away, holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, almost tripping in his haste to put space between you, even though it was you who kissed him. “Please, just go to Granville,” he counsels rapidly before turning heel and disappearing into the night, leaving you standing alone, unmoored and breathless, utterly turned upside down.
-iv-
You drift home in a daze, your family’s London residence only a few hundred yards away. Your escape plans are forgotten in the haze of tumbling thoughts about that blistering kiss. How fervently and immediately Benedict had kissed you back, how wonderful it felt to be caged in his arms….  Climbing into bed and passing out, still bewildered. In fact, it’s only the rude awakening of your bedroom door slamming open the following morning that brings you crashing back to your senses.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Your father roars, holding aloft what looks like the latest copy of Whistledown. “You have brought shame upon our family and likely ruination to your prospects!!”
Utterly alarmed, you sit bolt upright, blinking, taking a few moments before you can find your voice. “What are you referring to, father?”.
He glares at you, then throws the paper onto your bed and stalks out of the room without another word, puce with outrage. You know there will be crossed words at the breakfast table. The sight of your name on the crisp ivory page immediately draws your eye, and your stomach plunges as you read the paragraph:
The annual Bridgerton Ball last night was, once again, resplendent. A triumph that the dowager Countess can be rightfully proud of. Although less contentment could likely be gleaned from the behaviour of her offspring. The second eldest of whom was allegedly seen escaping into the unlit gardens hand in hand with none other than the most reluctant of this season's debutantes, the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. Perhaps the rebellious Miss will not have to endure many more of society’s events that she so patently abhors, should a proposal from the most wayward of Bridgerton sons be forthcoming? I, for one, however, Dear Reader, am not holding my breath…
Hiding in your room as long as you can, hunger drives you to join the frosty lunch table, apologising for inadvertently ruining your father’s plans to announce your betrothal and meekly explaining the incident with Benedict as a complete misunderstanding. It was merely an old friend helping you to gather some air before the big news was to be proclaimed. His taking your hand was out of benevolent concern, nothing more, and when you suddenly felt unwell, he chivalrously saw you the few hundred yards home. The lies feel odd on your tongue, your thoughts only of Benedict’s mouth and body moulded hotly to yours as your father lectures about appropriate behaviour for a young lady and your family’s long-standing friendship with the Bridgertons not being an excuse for a lackadaisical attitude to impropriety.
“There is nothing else to be done now—I must secure you a special licence to be wed tomorrow before Lord Farringdon hears about this,” he decrees with finality, his tone brokering no argument.
You slump silently into your chair, dread creeping through every cell, silently chastising yourself for not following Benedict’s advice and running away. If only you hadn't been impetuous and kissed him, you might have been in your right mind to do so. It feels cruel that the one moment you chose to throw caution to the wind is the one moment that sealed a worse fate.
-v-
That afternoon, your mother ushers you to the Modiste, paying handsomely for a very rushed wedding dress. Something simple that can be finished at such a late hour. It will only be your family in attendance anyway; so much else seems unnecessary. As you stand forlornly upon the raised dias, ivory silk tacked up around you with pins; your mother announces she needs to depart to secure other last-minute arrangements, leaving your trusty ladies' maid to accompany you home once alterations are complete.
“You do not look a happy bride…” Madam Delacroix mutters after the tinkle of the bell above the door signals her departure.
“Your observation skills are certainly not lacking,” you respond quietly, craning to double-check that Rachel, your maid, is out of earshot, sitting listlessly in the front of the store, staring out of the window.
“I do read Whistledown, my dear,” she remarks delicately, “and this does not appear to be a dress someone marrying a Bridgerton would wear.”
Your stomach vaults at the implication; the thought of marrying Benedict has your heart going haywire, even as you know it would never happen. The crestfallen look as your mind flits to the awful man you will be marrying instead is one you cannot hide as she meets your eyes in the reflection.
“It is not indeed,” you sigh, “but Whistledown has rather accelerated my unfortunate fate. Hence the rushed dress…” you gesture to your outfit.
“Mr Bridgerton is a friend?” she digs delicately.
“Lifelong,” you admit, “but Lady Whistledown could not have been more erroneous in her assertions…”
“That you and Mr Bridgerton are together? Or that he would marry you?” 
You look away from the mirror and down to where she is crouched by your hem on your left side, taken back not only at her astuteness but her drive for information. Almost as if she were Whistledown herself.
“I do not mean to pry,” she modifies, “merely to understand your predicament. Maybe I can be of assistance? I have privately counselled many a young lady on the eve of their wedding. Be it a happy occasion or not. And have kept many a secret of the Ton. ‘Tis the reason my business is so successful, Miss y/l/n. A good modiste can be a trusted confidante.”
“W-we are not together,” you stumble out without meaning to.
“But you wish to be? Or perhaps something has happened between you?”
Your eyes dart furtively, and your cheeks heat at the memory, but you say nothing. 
“You need say no more,” she chuckles and offers a knowing smile that appears as much reminiscent as sympathetic.
You rapidly attempt to deflect. “I do not wish to be married to anyone, really. I do find it so unfair a man is free to pursue his passions in life, but merely due to my sex, I am not.”
There is a nod of understanding, and she stands up with her hands on her hips. “I keep a certain array of refreshments for special clients such as yourself.” She nods to what looks like a liquor cabinet partially obscured behind a curtain at the back of her shop. “If you can dismiss your maid, I can assist you on your last night as an unmarried lady.”
The suggestion is too intriguing to refuse. And Rachel will greatly appreciate your pin money.
A few hours later, you are sat upon a circular conversation chair, Gen, as she insists you call her, pouring you another snifter of brandy.
“Tell me, what is your passion?” she inquires, her polished French accent slipping a little, sounding far more East End than Parisian. Something about that makes you like her more.
“Art,” you answer wistfully, “not that I have many opportunities to practice beyond a private notebook. But it is my most prized possession.” You gesture to your pelisse, hanging on a nearby hook. “I have it with me always. I have sewn a secret pocket into all of my coats myself.”
“Ingenious! ” She declares. “You shall have my job one day!”
You laugh, feeling light for the first time in what feels like days, as Gen leans in, raising an eyebrow. “I can also see well why you may have bonded with Mr Bridgerton…”
You giggle and lower your eyes, taking a fortifying sip.
“But it is not just that, is it?” Her tone is thoughtful, delicate even, as she continues: “A life outside the boundaries of so-called polite society can be so very beguiling, can it not? I have seen you, Miss y/l/n, at parties in Bloomsbury…”
A panicked bile rises as your head snaps up.
“As I said before, I am always discreet,” she reassures, “your secret is more than safe with me,” she winks before taking a generous sip from her glass.
Possibly, it's the alcohol, but her understanding of your predicament and the fact she has, unbeknownst to you, moved in similar circles brings an odd sense of relief. Having a confidante, someone to finally share your secrets with, albeit a somewhat stranger, lifts a burden from your shoulders. Wonderful as Eloise is, being the sister of the man who secretly holds your heart is not without complications in many ways.
“Another?” she chimes animatedly, holding aloft the bottle.
You cannot resist that offer.
-vi-
It’s close to midnight when Gen loops her arm in yours as she guides you, quite inebriated herself, away from the hackney cab to the familiar abode of one Henry Granville. Her declaration that a party is what you need on your last night of freedom is definitely not one you would dispute. A myriad of heightened emotions roil inside as you await the door being answered: contentment at your newly cemented friendship with Gen, bewildered every time you think of your kiss with Benedict and abhorrence for tomorrow. 
As you wander into the debauched tableau of a party in full swing: the air thick with smoke and merriment, the sounds of pleasure, people consorting together, a hedonistic swirl of self-expression unfurling all around you—it all consolidates into a yen to be reckless. Take part this time rather than just observe as you have before. Alcohol mutating the simmering rage about the injustice of your circumstance into a yearning to experience pleasure, especially physical. To get lost in sensation on your one last night of liberty.
So when you encounter Sir Simms - Matthew - friend to your older brother, renowned rake, but quite handsome, you throw caution to the wind. He seems delighted to see you, instantly flirtatious and familiar in a way you would rebuff any other night but this one. Whispering in your ear how very bold you are to be at such a bohemian event and pondering what other adventurous experiences you might be willing to indulge in. At one point Gen pulls you aside, her breath sweetened with fermented fruits, as she leans in and counsels you to be cautious. But you rebuff her concerns, swatting away her hold and returning to Matthew, allowing him to pull you into a kiss. 
It’s not the same as with Benedict; your mind screams at the altogether more jarring experience. A wet invasion of tongue that is less pleasant and certainly doesn’t fire anything inside you the way that he had. Merely kindling a defiant resolve to rage against the dying light of your freedom. And so when he slurs into your ear, you consent to his invitation upstairs, knowing fully the implications of what will transpire—feeling vaguely detached from yourself as he pulls you along by the hand towards the staircase. 
Suddenly, your field of vision is filled with dark blue velvet, a strong arm wrapping around you, caging you into a warm body mass, disconnecting your hand from Matthew’s—crossed words in two male voices. A momentarily confusing blur that only begins to make sense when you tilt your chin up… and the breath is quite stolen from your lungs.
Benedict.
At first, it feels like a cruel mirage, the man you most desire here to stymie your last gamble at impulsivity. His hold is strong as you sense Matthew shrink away, defeated by Benedict’s threat to expose some dalliance or other. But as he whisks you to an empty room within the house, all you feel bubbling up is anger.
“Stop trying to rescue me!” you rail, reeling out of his grip and stamping your foot to emphasise your point, uncaring that you may be behaving more akin to a petulant toddler.
“Stop making foolish decisions!” he lobbies back after a fleeting wounded look.
You glare at him momentarily before turning your back and staring out of the window into the inky blackness of Granville’s garden, frustration prickling a tear in the corner of your eye.
Behind you, there is a sigh; then his voice turns softer. “Why did you not follow my advice? I came here this morning only to be informed you never arrived…”
That he came to check on you weakens your bluster, although you still have no earthy idea why, once again, he is so invested in your actions. But you are not done saying your piece. 
“What does it matter now?” you bite bitterly before spinning around to face him. “Benedict, we are in Whistledown. My father would have arranged a special licence for tomorrow regardless of whether I had come here or not…”
“He did what?” he splutters, shock almost choking the words.
You square your shoulders and cross your arms defensively. “I am to be married in the morning. 11am at St George’s.” When all he offers is floored silence, you uncharitably dig the knife in. “No thanks to you...” 
Your words are like a body blow, a world of hurt in his quiet tone as he stares at the ground. “I was only trying to help.” 
Regret floods your every cell; why you would choose to lash out at him, even you don't know—so many conflicting feelings and strong liquor coursing through you.
“Please… let me return to the party,” you sigh wearily, after a beat, gesturing to his blocking your exit from the room.
“You would regret what you were about to do until your dying day,” he attests, lifting his head, a vein on his forehead pulsing as his jaw tenses.
“Perhaps,” you shrug. “But that is my burden to endure, not yours.”
“I am your friend,” he frowns, “I will always want to alleviate your burdens…”
“I do not want a friend, Benedict, not tonight. I want a beau.” If you aimed to shock him, you are successful; a cavalcade of expressions warring on his face as you plough on. “So please move so that I may continue with my most inadvisable plan….”
“No.” It's soft but unequivocal, resolute.
When you realise he is not going to budge, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Benedict?” 
There is a gruff noise in the back of his throat, and then, with two determined strides, he is pressed up against you, his breath hot on your face. Then he is kissing you, ferociously, wantonly, opening your mouth with his, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you roughly into him.
And you are lost.
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masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)
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Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies
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lettalady · 2 years ago
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Six secrets: wedding party Chris
Six Secrets: The Wedding Checklist edition
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1 is an open secret - A secret that everybody goddamned knows anyway is he was gonna fall for his wedding buddy. Knew it ten minutes into meeting her that it was a setup that he didn't mind one damn bit. 2 is a secret the people close to your character know - A secret the people close to him know is how close he came to not coming to the wedding at all. But it was home and people he cares a whole fucking lot about so he juggled and made it work. 3 is a secret that your character wouldn’t really care about getting out - He did his own fair share of checking out his wedding buddy when they were walking back to the car. She just didn't catch him in the act like he did her. 4 is a secret exactly one person knows anything about - Oh karaoke night. He was trying hard to drink her under the table, or get her to get up there and sing something. And oh did he regret the hangover the next morning. Connor knows. Connor better not breathe a word. 5 is a secret no one knows about but they sort of want to come out/to tell someone - He really wanted her to show up at his hotel room at some point. Nearly went down to try to worm her room number out of the front desk. Might admit it to her one day. Eventually. 6 is a secret no one knows and they desperately don’t want anyone to know about. - The phone incident? Yea.... he knew it was in his pocket the whole time. Made for a fanfuckingtastic evening adventure though, retracing their bar crawl to 'find' it.
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traffic-series-after-life · 10 months ago
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oh we do know who all the tag dwellers are; I was preoccupied so sorry for not addressing you by name grian
. . . you mentioned earlier having crudely done time travel. s6 or evo?
~fray
Mumbo: is the warden gone?
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pretty-little-mind33 · 11 months ago
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James Potter x slytherin!fem!reader
Summary: Playing Quidditch against your secret boyfriend is usually fun…
Genre: Fluff/hurt and comfort <3
Warnings: rivalry, chaser!captain!james, chaser!captain!reader, secret relationship (previous enemies to lovers), injuries, swearing, protective!james (my baby), short-ish
JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST
It had begun innocently.
You and James had promised not to tell anyone about your relationship for one week. Only that week turned into another, which eventually turned into four, and now it's much too awkward announcing to the entire school that you've been dating James Potter—the same boy you have publicly spent years saying you couldn't stand—for almost six months.
So, you never did, and neither did he.
However, the upside of your little arrangement was that now Quidditch is endlessly more entertaining.
"You ready, Cap?" Anne, your seeker, asks as you secure your gloves around your wrists. You nod and pull on the straps tightly. This is possibly the most important game of the season and you're determined to win.
You drown out the crowd's cheers when you mount your broom, adjust your hair, and fly up to where your lovely boyfriend is waiting for you to shake his hand.
James looks handsome, with his messy curls messier from the wind, and your heart flutters unintentionally. "Y/l/n," he says and balances on his broom as he grins.
"Potter."
He holds out his arm and looks around at his team and then at yours. "Good luck," James says and you know him well enough to hear his sincerity.
You take his hand, your breath hitching when his thumb caresses across your knuckles. It's such a quick brush you almost think you'd imagined it, but then James sends you a smile—that smile—and you know you hadn't imagined anything.
You drop his hand but return his smile. "May the best team win," your voice is smooth and you hear James chuckle as you fly away from him. You don't dare look back as you hide your smile and nod to your teammates.
The game starts normally, but as time progresses it becomes obvious this particular match is more competitive than usual. James's players become more flustered as the game continues, but you don't concern yourself with them as Slytherin is in the lead. Which, to your dismay, is more uncommon than you would like considering James's team is talented.
Annoyingly talented.
However, you should have been concerned considering when Danny Shepard hits the bludger directly at you out of pure anger, you're unprepared.
The front of your broom shatters from the force and you let out a loud scream when you jerk to the side, your broom malfunctioning as you plummet to the ground.
You can hear some of your teammates call out your name in worry but when you fall onto the grass and roll into the sidelines of a muddy ditch. Your eyes water as a piercing pain makes your head pound.
"Y/n!" James's calls and when you sit up, you see him land on the ground. He lets his broom fall without a care and sprints over to you. He kneels next to you and gently holds your head up, "Shit, shit, shit, shit," James sounds terrified. You blink. The world around him is spinning and his features are blurry.
"Help!" James screams and your heart leaps. What the hell is he doing? Everyone will know. You try to shake your head to tell him to shut up but you just wince in pain. James loops his arm around your back and concern etches his face when you cry out in pain from his movement.
You don't remember much after that. Just that some teachers and your teammates had rushed to your side to make sure you were okay. You weren't. You remember some of James's friends had to hold him back when the teachers hurried you to the Hospital Wing.
However, you wake up to him next to you. James is still in his Quidditch uniform, his head in his arms, his arm crossed beside your hips, as his chest lifts and falls lightly.
You blink, adjusting to the dim light from the lamp, and your shifting must wake James up because he looks up. Sheet lines are drawn on his cheeks and his voice is hoarse when he mutters, "Baby?"
"Hi," you whisper, forcing a small smile.
It's as if his entire face brightens and in his excitement James jumps up and wraps his arms around your shoulders. "Merlin, you're really okay! I was so worried," his voice sounds tense and when you wince a little, he moves back like he'd burned you. "Sorry, sorry," he blushes pink and slumps down onto the chair again.
"It's okay, Jamie," you smile at him and then ask, "What happened?" You look around you. It's dark outside. You must have been passed out for a few hours, at the very least.
"Shepard aimed his bludger at you out of anger," James hurries to explain, "He's off the team. Definitively. No arguments."
You smile at him a little but ask the important question, "You continued the game, did you?"
James nods solemnly, "Yeah, we did," he pauses as if debating something, "Gryffindor won," he says after a moment. Your eyebrows scrunch hearing him and you groan, cursing. James is quick to hold your hand. "But you'll beat us next time, lovie. It was such a close game."
You roll your eyes at him, turning your head to bury your face into your pillow. "You're such a twat," you whine and then look up at him through your hair, "this is why I disliked you."
James's smile falters, seemingly a little hurt. "I'm being serious! You played well. Your entire team did," he whispers, stroking his thumb over your hand.
You snort, "Oh, I know you're being serious, James. You're too kind. It's infuriating."
"Would you rather I rub my win in your face?" James asks with a raise of his brow. You sit up and glare at him. Admittedly, James has never been humble about his team winning a game but this was different.
You're his girlfriend now. His injured, and incredibly competitive, girlfriend.
"Well, nothing would have stopped you before," you say and James rolls his eyes. He leans in closer.
"Well, back then, I wouldn't have cared that one of my players hit you like that."
You send him a suspicious look.
"Okay, I would have cared, but not this much."
You smile. As much as you hate James for his undeniable chivalry and how annoyingly kind-hearted he is, if he wasn't then he wouldn't be the person you loved. And oh boy, do you love him.
"I want everyone to know about us," you say suddenly. James's eyes round like saucers. His hand finds yours and he tilts his head like a puppy, an endearing confusion gracing his features. He squeezes your hand in his.
"You must have really hit your head hard baby–"
"No," you interrupt him, your voice coming out stern, "I'm ready. I'm not ashamed. I've never been ashamed. I just didn't want anyone to know because if they did then they'd meddle, and if didn't know then you were mine. Only mine."
A smile curls James's lips. "What's changed?"
You look into his eyes. "Well, now I want everyone to know you are mine."
James raises and eyebrow and he chuckles. "So basically, you're claiming me?"
"Yeah, I guess I am."
With a smile, James nuzzles into you and then kisses your cheek, right under one of your bruises. "Good, because everyone already knows about us. When you passed out, I made too much of a scene and the game was up," he says sheepishly, "It's all anyone is talking about apparently."
You giggle as his breath tickles your skin and you hold his nape. "Fucking let them, I don't care. All that matters is that you're mine."
"I am yours," James confirms into your ear, "Wholeheartedly yours, Y/n."
1K notes · View notes
yeonzzzn · 11 months ago
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🔑secrets that you keep: psh / lhs
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pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader x heeseung word count: 4.2k
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synopsis: dating sunghoon was like living on cloud nine, he treats you like a princess, spoils you, shows you off and gives every ounce of love to you…so why do you keep thinking about one of his best friends?
genre: love triangle, boyfriend's best friends, established relationship, friends to lovers to friends, jealous!heeseung, smut.
warnings: cheating, two sex scenes, unprotective sex, car sex, reader gets bent over the counter top, degrading, fingering, finger sucking, alcohol, Sunghoon and Heeseung are down bad for reader. MINORS DNI. lmk if i've missed anything ♡
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You made eye contact with him, watching the corners of his lips curl as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes stare back into yours with so much care and want. 
You quickly glanced away from him, forcing your eyes to look down at your plate of nachos, fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater. Praying no one else at this table noticed the small moment you just had with him. 
“Everything okay, baby?” your boyfriend asks you, his hand sitting on top of yours to stop your fidgets, “You’ve barely touched your food.” 
You quickly look over to him, wrapping your hands around his, giving a soft smile, “I’m okay, just a small headache is all.” 
Please don’t let him have noticed how his best friend and I just had a moment together. 
Sunghoon gave you a soft smile back, “We’ll get you some medicine once we are back at the house, okay?” 
You nodded, feeling Heeseung’s eyes still on you. 
Sunghoon leaned over, resting his arm on the back of your chair and placing a kiss on your forehead, “My sweet princess,” he whispered. 
It didn’t go unnoticed how Heeseung’s relaxed expression tensed quickly, forcing himself to look away from you and his best friend and off towards the other end of the table, listening to Jake and Niki fight about what video game everyone would play once back at the house. 
Jay rubbed his temples, snapping at them to quiet down, “We are literally in a public space can we not?!” 
The only downside to going out with your boyfriend and his six roommates/best friends is how loud they all can get. 
You tried to drown out the noise like usual, trying to distract your mind away from the chaos. 
Except, Heeseung wouldn’t let the chaos rest. 
He slouched in his seat, extending his legs out across the floor, setting them between yours. 
Your face felt hot, eyes widening, and trying to not react too much so that it was not noticed by anyone. But Heeseung noticed, obviously. 
“Are you sure you’re okay, YN?” Heeseung teased, but saying it in a way to not make it noticeable that he was teasing you, but you could tell. 
Sunghoon’s eyes quickly flickered between the two of you, Heeseung’s legs sitting between yours becoming all too obvious to Sunghoon. 
Before any more could be said, Jungwon was now the one yelling at Jake and Niki, deciding it was time to go back home. 
You felt more at ease once you sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s car, leaning your head back with a sigh, your whole body relaxing. 
You noticed one by one, each of your friend's cars leaving the parking lot, Heeseung’s being the last in the line heading towards the direction of their shared home. 
“Are we not leaving?” You asked Sunghoon, turning to face him, seeing his lust-filled eyes. 
Sunghoon waited to get you alone all night. Tonight was supposed to be a date for the two of you, but ended up with Heeseung suggesting a group dinner, and since everyone was in favor, who was Sunghoon to turn his friends down?
Sunghoon reached his hand over to your thigh, squeezing the plush between his fingers, “I want you so bad, been thinking about it all day.” 
You wasted no time crawling over the center console, straddling him in the driver's seat, and attaching your lips to his in a fiery passion. 
Sunghoon reached a hand below the seat in unison with his tongue spreading your lips apart to invade your mouth, hand gripping the handle to push the seat backwards and lean it slightly back. 
Your hands cupped his face as his hands slid your skirt up your thighs, bunching it at your waist. 
Sunghoon couldn’t wait much longer, his dick twitching at the very thought of your cunt wrapped around him. 
His fingers slid your panties to the side, feeling your slick drip out of you. 
“Oh, fuck princess,” he moaned into your mouth, “so wet for me already my pretty?” 
You nodded, your hands working at unbuttoning his jeans, his hips rising to help you pull them down to his ankles. 
His fingers pumped into you in the same motion as your hand moved up and down his shaft, spreading his precum around his tip with your thumb. 
Sunghoon moaned against your lips, his cock pulsing in your hand, “Princess,” he whispered, “I can’t take it anymore, let me fuck you.” 
You slid onto him with such ease, rolling your hips as quickly as you could in the small space between the center console and the door. 
Sunghoon’s hands squeezed your ass tightly, his nails leaving marks on your skin. 
His head spun at seeing the way you rode his cock, sucking him so good with your cunt. 
It didn’t take either of you long to cum, making a mess all in his seat. But Sunghoon didn’t mind, it was a problem for another day to deal with and clean up later. 
When the two of you finally walked into the house, the screams of your friends echoed from up the stairs. Sunghoon held your hand tightly as you followed him to the second floor. 
Heeseung sat in the recliner chair in the corner of the upstairs living room, his eyes narrowed and chin wrapped between his fingers, the clear look that he’s pissed off. Eyes staring bullets into the TV of the Mario Party game. 
Sunghoon clocked it the minute he stepped foot into the living room, eyebrows raised, “What is his problem?” 
Jake, Niki, Jungwon, and Sunoo, sat on the edge of the couch, Nintendo Switch controllers in their hands slapping their fingers along the buttons for the mini-game. 
Jay sat in the bean bag directly across from Heeseung, his guitar sat in his lap as he played a soft tune, “I dunno,” Jay shrugged, “We all sat down and then thirty minutes later he stopped talking and was pissed off.” 
You peeked around Sunghoon, Heeseung’s eyes immediately darted to you, then your hand still intertwined with Sunghoon, then back up to you, eyes piercing your entire soul. 
You tugged at Sunghoon’s hand, motioning to sit on the couch. 
Sunghoon swatted at Jake’s leg, forcing him and the others to shift to their right, making room for you two. 
The minutes ticked by as you watched your friends continue their game, Sunghoon switching off with Jake every other turn. 
Sunghoon was in the middle of a challenge when your phone buzzed. 
heeseung: what took you so long to get back?
You rolled your eyes, quickly looking in Heeseung’s direction, seeing the same look you were giving him was looking right back at you. 
You were angry, and to keep yourself from going off, you excused yourself to grab a drink of water from downstairs. Sunghoon kissed your hand before you walked away. 
You were gone for five minutes and it was driving Heeseung crazy. 
He quickly stood up, causing his six friends to glance at him.
“Where are you going, grumpy pants?” Jay asked, tuning his guitar. 
“I need some alcohol.” which was true, Heeseung needed some of that liquid courage to get him through the night. Mostly if you plan to stay overnight with your boyfriend. 
You heard footsteps coming down the stairs, peaking your head around the counter, seeing Heeseung. You should have known. 
You rolled your eyes again, taking a sip of your water. 
Heeseung was at your side in seconds, snatching the glass from your hands and placing it to his lips. 
“Really Heeseung?!” 
He shrugged, swallowing all your water, setting the glass on the table then making eye contact with you. 
“Still not calling me Seungie?” he asked, his fingers tapping the glass. 
You shrugged back at him, turning away from him, resting your lower back against the counter, and crossing your arms. 
“YN, You think I’m dumb or something?” he said with a smirk. 
Huh?
You raise a brow at him, “Excuse me?” 
He chuckled, “Do you think I don’t know you fucked Sunghoon before coming back? Bet it was in his car too, wasn't it?” 
It was your turn to chuckle, “That’s none of your business.” 
“Oh, baby, yes it is,” he took a step closer to you, “It became my business that night you rode my dick into oblivion. Milking my cock with that sweet pussy of yours.” 
You looked away from him, thinning your lips into a line. 
You didn’t know things would end up this way. It was a drunken night. You, Sunghoon, Jay, Heeseung, and Jake all went to a party, had a little too much to drink, and had to call Jungwon to pick you guys up and bring you home. 
You stayed the night that night. Waking up at four am with a headache and terrible hangover. You shuffled carefully out of Sunghoon’s bed trying to not wake him and carefully tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom. 
You were more out of it than you thought, taking to the wrong room expecting it to be Sunghoon’s. You couldn’t help it, you were still woozy and all their doors looked the same. It wasn’t your fault Heeseung’s room is next door to Sunghoon’s. 
You didn’t realize until you opened the door and slowly closed it that you walked into the wrong bedroom, but by that time it was too late. Heeseung already saw you. 
He was hunched over his bed with multiple empty water bottles lying around him. 
“What are you doing here?” he softly asked, his voice shaken from clearly being sick of the alcohol he consumed that night. 
You felt terrible for him, seeing him like that. So you did what any good friend would do, you took care of him. Got him a warm washcloth and more water. 
It was the first time you were that close to Heeseung, noticing every curve of his face. How pretty his eyes were, how sharp his jaw was, how…kissable his lips looked. 
Heeseung was obviously thinking the same as you, only he pushed that boundary and kissed you first. In shock at what he just had done, he apologized multiple times and begged you to not tell Sunghoon. You shrugged it off and blamed the alcohol. But as the next few weeks passed, you realized there was more to it than just blaming the alcohol. 
He looked at you differently. Talk to you differently. His body language was different when you were around. Everything changed. 
The sexual tension between the two of you built up over time. Heeseung proposed that you two hit it once, then never speak of it again. To get it out of your system. You weren’t sure about it and kept shoving him off until one night Sunghoon had to work late and your fingers weren’t doing it for you, not being able to wait until your boyfriend returned home. 
So you snuck next door. And did what Heeseung said, you rode his dick until he was moaning your name against your lips and cumming inside of you so hard and much that he was seeing stars. 
Heeseung was hooked after that. He couldn’t get enough of you. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted you all over him all the time. He wanted to hold you tight every night in his bed. Take you on cute as fuck dates and show you off. He wanted to love you.
But he couldn’t. You were cuffed to his best friend. 
Heeseung honored his proposal, hitting it once and quitting. But as time went on, he couldn’t stand it. 
He got up in the middle of the night and drove to your apartment, banging on your door until you woke up and let him inside, his lips immediately crashing against yours. 
You couldn’t lie to yourself, you’ve been thinking of him too. Spacing out during lectures thinking about his hands on you. 
You felt guilty. You were a taken woman. Sunghoon is so good to you. Treats you like a princess. Spoils you. Shows you off on every social media account he owns. Has even joked about getting your name tattooed on his wrist. Man was so in love with you, yet you did this to him. 
But you couldn’t stop. Heeseung became a secret that you kept. 
You’d call him almost every single night after Sunghoon would leave your apartment. 
You created a secret folder where you kept photos of the two of you together. 
You’d cry and break down about how unfair this all was to Sunghoon in front of Heeseung. 
Your heart is torn into two pieces and both of those men have a part of it. 
Heeseung hated what he was doing to his best friend, sure, but his heart was so attached to you. So attached to the point when you finally called everything off, Heeseung broke. 
He turned cold. Got so jealous so easily. Would do anything to try and get your attention. To tease you to show you what you were missing. 
Which leads you to stand in the kitchen with him beside you, angry to all hell. 
You just stared at him, “Are you trying to tell me I can’t have sex with my own boyfriend?” 
Heeseung hissed at that word, the word he so desperately wishes you’d call him. 
He just shook his head, looking away from you, “Come back to me.” 
“Heeseung,” you sighed, looking down at the floor, “You know we can’t.” 
“Are you saying you’re just okay giving this,” he said, pointing between the two of you, “Up?”
“Heeseung,”
“That you’re okay giving up my cock?” he growled, pushing his length against your thigh, “It’s been almost a month, baby, I can’t take it.” 
You tried to hold your ground, to do the right thing. And the only way you could think of was walking away. 
But you chose the wrong direction to do so. 
You turned away from him, going to walk around the counter and back up the stairs, but his grip on your waist pulled you back. His hips connected to your ass as he bent you over the counter, hand at the back of your neck. 
“Fuck you’re so sexy like this,” he whispered in your ear, “and the fact that you’re not fighting me tells me exactly what you want.” 
You didn’t deny it. You wanted him. You missed him. 
“Such a fucking slut,” he whispered, riding your skirt up around your waist, “Got dicked down by my best friend and fixing to take my cock too, so dirty.” 
You felt his fingers rub your clothed heat, and your juices coated his fingers, “Haven’t even touched you yet, and your soaked,” he groaned, “Fuck YN.” 
He moved your panties to the side, his thumbs spreading your folds, “Fuck you’re a sight to see.” 
“Seungie,” you whined, “Everyone's upstairs,” 
“Then you better keep your fucking mouth shut,” he quietly snapped, the sound of his belt coming undone filled the room. 
You bit your lips, your pussy clenching around nothing, making Heeseung lick his lips. God, he loves seeing you like this. Loved knowing you were so desperate for him like he was for you. 
Heeseung placed three fingers to his lips, moving his tongue across them and sliding them into your hole. 
You bit your lips harder, trying your best to conceal your moans. 
He pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly, letting you feel what you’ve been missing since calling whatever your relationship was with him off. 
“Seungie,” you whispered, hands gripping the other side of the counter, “Please.” 
“Fuck,” Heeseung always lost it when you begged for him like that. The way his nickname you’ve given him just rolls off your tongue. Drives him insane. He was putty in your hands and would bend to your every will. 
He played it off with his tough guy act, being so cold and dominant, which he did enjoy, yes. He loved seeing how you fold so fast at the way he handles you, but god he would submit to you so fast. All you had to do was give him commands, and he’d do it. 
Heeseung lifted your ass up higher, giving him perfect access to your pussy, lining his cock up nicely to your heat. 
You were about to beg him again but stopped the minute he pushed himself inside you, fucking into you at a desirable pace. 
You were so sure you drew blood from your lip at how hard you were clenching down on it to keep the moans from slipping out. Knuckles turning white from the grip you had on the counter. 
Heeseung was starting to lose himself in the pleasure. He hasn’t felt your cunt in almost a month. His hand only did so much for him, porn did nothing, and trying to hook up with someone else was out of the question. 
Heeseung hung his head low, watching how you took his cock in its entirety, releasing soft groans from his lips. 
You no longer could hold out. Your lip fell from your teeth, mouth slightly opened as the start of a loud moan escaped. 
Heeseung was quick to act, shoving his fingers into your mouth and pulling you up, his lips found your ear, “What did I fucking tell you?” he growled, “I said keep that whore mouth shut.” 
You moaned against his fingers, head spinning from how rough he was being with you. You loved it. 
There was just something about the way Heeseung fucked you that always had you coming back for more. 
Sunghoon fucked you so good as well, but he wasn’t rough like Heeseung. 
Sunghoon will get rough with you, but not to the same extent Heeseung would. Sunghoon was more gentle, focused more on your pleasure than his own, and always made sure you felt loved and safe during sex. Which you adored completely. But sometimes a girl needs to be thrown around and fucked senseless. 
Which is what Heeseung gave you. Heeseung made sure you felt good, yes. But he would always balance it out where you both are feeling good. Heeseung loves getting rough with you. Loves bending you over any object he could, and loves fucking you so aggressively. Pinning you to every surface. Pushing your face into the pillows, blankets, and couch cushions. It was so hot to him, mostly knowing it’s what you want. 
Both boys give you two different types of sex you crave. And maybe that’s why you fell in love with them both. They each bring something to the table for you, and not just in a sexual way. 
Heeseung’s head was starting to spin, losing himself even more. 
You sucked on his fingers, your tongue rubbing between them. 
“F-fuck,” he moaned, feeling like he was going to cum right now just from you sucking his digits. 
“Can’t believe you called it off with me,” he whispered, pumping into you faster to chase the climax he wants so badly, “Can’t believe you kiss him in front of me,” he was starting to sound angry, “Can’t fucking believe I’ve had to hear the way he pleasures you when you stay the night,” he pushes into you deep, holding himself there for a few seconds, then sliding out and fucking back into you, punctuating the next words with each thrust, “It. Drives. Me. Fucking. Insane.” 
You didn’t realize how close you were until that knot snapped, coating his cock of your cum. 
“Oh, fuck,” Heeseung whined, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth, “Fuck baby, I’m fixing to cum, holy fuck.” 
Heeseung couldn’t hold out anymore, releasing his load inside you, a groan leaving his mouth. 
He took a few deep breaths before removing himself from you and quickly sliding your panties back into place and shoving your skirt back down. 
You turned around just in time to see Heeseung zip back up his jeans and clasp his belt, hands running through his hair, the sweat obvious on his skin. 
“You might want to wash your face off before going back upstairs,” you mumbled, taking your empty glass and refilling it with water. 
Heeseung leaned against the counter, smirking, “Fucked you so good after a month and that’s the thanks I get?” 
You glared at him, pointing your index finger at him, “This is the last fucking time Lee Heeseung, you got what you wanted so respect my wishes.” 
You turned away from him, making your way back towards the stairs.
“You’ll come back for more,” he teased, loving the way your body tensed up and whipped around to face him again. 
“You’re such a dick.” 
Heeseung wanted to fight back, to beg you to reconsider leaving him like this, but couldn’t. Not with the sounds of someone coming down the stairs. Not just anyone. Sunghoon. 
He reached the bottom of the steps, eyes looking back and forth between you and Heeseung, “Did you two get into a fight?” 
“Something like that,” you scoff, turning to face your boyfriend, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, Heeseung tensed. “I am going to shower then go to your room to watch a movie, my head still hurts. Is that okay?” 
Sunghoon smiled at you, “Of course, princess, I’ll join you if that’s fine? I’ll brush your hair.” 
You nodded, “I’d love that.” 
Sunghoon kissed your forehead, it not getting past him that you were sweaty, but said nothing, watching as you ran up the stairs. 
Heeseung opened the fridge, pulling out a beer he originally was supposed to come down here for. 
Sunghoon chuckled, “That was a long time being down here just to only now get a beer.” 
Heeseung just eyed his best friend, trying to play the most bullshit poker face, “Would have gotten it sooner, but your girlfriend yelled at me for being such a sour puss.” 
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “Right, okay. Sure.” 
Heeseung clocked the attitude, “Is there a problem?” 
Sunghoon just laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “No. Just that if you’re going to fuck my girlfriend, at least make it not so stupidly obvious.” 
Heeseung sighed, closing his eyes tightly and dipping his head towards the floor, “Hoon, man I am so sorry.” 
Sunghoon walked closer to his friend, making sure the next words he spoke wouldn’t reach the ears of the others or even you, “Do you take me as some fool? You don’t think I didn’t know you guys were screwing each other behind my back for months? I’ve been dating YN for three years, and have known you my whole life, you really think I wouldn’t have caught on?”
Heeseung didn’t know what to say besides the truth, “It just happened, man. Neither of us wanted things to get this way.” 
Sunghoon heard enough and the last thing he wanted was to fight with his best friend, regardless of the betrayal. 
So without another word, Sunghoon turned around. 
“If it counts for anything, she called it off a while ago. I’m the one who kept pressuring and pushing her buttons.” Heeseung felt like shit. He knew everything would come to a head eventually or even if it didn’t, it would have been a secret he kept and took to his grave. 
“I know,” was all Sunghoon said, “Again, I am no idiot. I noticed a change.” 
Heeseung watched as his friend took a few more steps, “I am in love with her,” those words made Sunghoon turn back around, “I love her so bad man.” Heeseung clenched his hand on his shirt, “I can’t stop that feeling.” 
Sunghoon just nodded, “I know you do man,” he shook his head with a sigh, “I see it when you look at her. She…she loves you too.” 
Heeseung’s heart stopped, the grip on his shirt loosening, “What?” 
“She loves you,” Sunghoon repeated, “I know about the hidden folder of the photos you two have. I caught her looking at them, she was crying. It was the same night I believe she called it off with you.” 
Heeseung stayed quiet, not sure what was the right thing to even say. 
“Why did you never confront us?” Heeseung genuinely wanted to know. 
Sunghoon just shrugged, “Because she loves you, I guess. The last thing I wanted was to cause problems between our friend group or between her and me. That’s how much I love you both to put up with it. Yeah, eventually I knew I had to say something, but she cut ties with you before I could do anything.” 
Heeseung was still in disbelief that you loved him. Yet the love and loyalty for Sunghoon was stronger. But knowing you loved him was still enough. 
“She loves you deeply, Hoon,” he twisted the bottle cap off of the beer, “Enough to break my damn heart.” 
Sunghoon nodded, “I won’t tell her I know. And you won’t either, got it?” 
Heeseung nodded back, “Hoon, I am so sorry. I promise it’s done. It won’t happen anymore.” 
“Good,” Sunghoon turned back around and headed back up the stairs, “I’m insane when it comes to her. I don’t do well with sharing what’s mine.” 
Once Sunghoon was out of sight, Heeseung fell to the floor, tipping the bottle to his lips, “I don’t do well with sharing what should be mine either.” 
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