#my boy was like. Sorry. I need to keep that thing locked up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 6 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

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this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days.

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days.

It’s scary.

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else.

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space.

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up.

But you’re not quite there yet.

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy.

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting.

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice.

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting.

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either.

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause.

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally.

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick.

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach.

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment.

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all.

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat.

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat.

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself.

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position.

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him.

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass.

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that.

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step.

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy.

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you.

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea.

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence.

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes.

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there.

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather.

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do.

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue.

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder.

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out.

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person.

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now.

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort.

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you.

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him.

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle.

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up.

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer.

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up.

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes.

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man.

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that.

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind.

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning.

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—”

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again.

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this.

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings.

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you.

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff.

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group.

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice.

Soon, it’s just the two of you.

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond.

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.”

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high.

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder.

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts.

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence.

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice.

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud.

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing.

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset.

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running.

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears.

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream.

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care.

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right.

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you.

You feel like you might throw up.

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away.

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking.

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is.

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying.

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder.

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette.

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you.

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection.

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you.

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them.

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday.

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again.

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale.

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice.

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive.

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more.

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby.

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again.

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink.

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words.

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles.

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk.

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup.

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant.

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit.

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it.

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede.

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done.

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you.

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him.

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom.

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta.

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever.

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side.

“You in there?”

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup.

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing.

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes.

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating.

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him.

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate.

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed.

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive.

Spencer attempts to speak again.

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?”

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face.

You don’t know where it comes from, either.

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms.

Too scared.

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too.

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room.

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final.

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home.

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do.

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing.

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet.

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move.

If only time would freeze before he could walk away.

But it doesn’t.

He sucks in a decisive breath.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

It’s that fucking phone call all over again.

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up.

part 5.5

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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moongreenlight · 1 year ago

Text

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #141 headcanons #headcanon #drabble

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

Two to Tango

prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.4k+

note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!

warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.

part one: God's Plan

"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"

You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"

"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"

He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."

"What do you want?"

"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.

You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"

He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"

"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.

"Oh, someone's touchy."

"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"

He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."

You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"

"He's falling apart."

"O...Kay?"

"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."

"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.

"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."

"So, he needs his mother?"

Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."

"I'm not laughing."

"He needs you."

"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."

"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."

You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"

"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."

"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.

"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "

"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"

Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."

"Sucks to suck."

"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"

"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."

"How is talking to the man you love - "

"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."

"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."

You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"

He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"

"To say... What?"

"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."

You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.

"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."

"Really?"

"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"

He shrugged, "Maybe..."

"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."

"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."

"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."

"He won't go."

You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."

Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"

"What?"

"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"

"It's not even seven in the morning!"

"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."

You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.

When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.

"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."

"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.

"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.

The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "

"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"

He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.

"Carmy, we need to talk."

"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.

"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "

"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."

"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."

"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"

"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "

"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."

"Carmy," you sighed patiently.

"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "

"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."

"Nah, I'm okay - "

"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."

"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."

"Calling me desperate?"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"A bitch?"

"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."

"I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."

"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.

"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."

"I know," he squeezed you tight.

"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.

"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."

"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."

"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."

"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."

He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."

"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.

"Move in with me - officially."

Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "

"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."

"Carmy."

He frowned, "I'm sorry."

"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"

He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."

You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."

"I'm fine - "

"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."

He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.

"Exactly why we're going back to yours."

Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"

You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"

You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."

He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.

"Okay?"

"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."

"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"

"I will be."

"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."

"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.

"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."

"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.

"Fair point - just one then - "

He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.

When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."

"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."

He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.

"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.

"We're talking it out."

He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."

"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"

He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"

"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."

Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.

When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.

"Why?" He whispered.

You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."

"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.

"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."

Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."

"It's okay, baby," you whispered.

"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"

"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"

He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.

You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.

"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."

You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.

"Why can't I get out?"

You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.

"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"

"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.

"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."

"Laid to rest."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"

"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."

"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."

"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.

When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.

"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."

"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."

He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.

"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.

"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.

"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"

"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"

"I don't want you t'clean after me."

"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"

"I feel better, yeah."

"Good."

"And I made up my mind."

"Hmm? About what?"

"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."

"Think you can handle that?"

He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."

You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."

"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.

True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.

You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.

Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.

You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.

They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.

You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.

Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.

And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

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occamstfs · 21 days ago

Text

Slice of Italy

After an accident outside a local Italian restaurant, Jonathan finds himself itching to hop in the kitchen himself.

Bear TF with all that implies! In other news I think I'm going to go down to one story a week, been spending a little too much energy here. May open commissions if there is an interest there? Who knows! At any rate, enjoy this story! -Occam

It wasn’t even Jonathan’s fault the statue was broken. His clearly too drunk friends were jacking around and not listening to his voice of reason. The poor DD was just standing closest when it was inevitably knocked over and shattered. If he had followed their lead and fled, it’s likely they’d all be off scot-free, but his need to atone for his friend’s actions in whatever paltry way he could led him to start gathering the scattered pieces.

Hearing the shattering plaster, the hostess runs outside with a gasp as she takes in the scene. She stares in shock at Jonathan before retreating inside to surely grab someone more important. Jonathan is again left with the all too desirable option of flight, staring at pieces of the stereotypical Italian chef he sighs and keeps to his principles, slowly picking up pieces.

Really he did them a favor, he’s always hated the thing. Creepy little thing. He’s been coming here all his life and it’s always seemed like the eyes have followed him. Seeing them lifeless and cracked on the ground doesn’t make them any less eerie though. Nor does the disembodied plaster smirk lying askew to their side. Before he can shudder Jonathan jumps as the door to the restaurant slams open and out comes a burly manager, “Ah c’mon kid, now why’d ya go and do that?”

Jonathan drops the shards of the statue he still held in shock as he stammers to explain that really he’s not at fault. Never especially good at doing anything but ceding ground to authority figures he immediately folds, “I well, um it wasn’t really my fault um. It was, uh- I’ll do whatever I can to make this right. I-” Looking in the young man’s eyes the manager sighs and waves him off, “No no kid don’t you- Accident’s happen. Hmph Cavallo loved that statue though hah!” There’s a sadness in his eyes as he looks at the shattered man once more before returning his gaze to Johnathan with a squint.

“You’re the youngest Clark boy eh?” Correct, though now well an adult, there remains a tinge of irritation any time it’s brought up that he will always be the youngest, the smallest, no matter how long time treks onward. Still, not the time, “Yes sir.” The manager scratches the back of his head and motions the younger man inside, “Why don’t you come in, I’ll have one of my hosts sweep up the mess later.” Jonathan furrows his brow as he’s ushered inside, any attempts he makes at offering his hand to do the dirty work are met with hems and haws from the manager as he is instead led into an office in the back of house.

“You just sit here Jonny and I’ll uh- Hm?” He pauses and looks at Jonathan, no, past Jonathan. As if he’s staring through the young man and seeing something beyond. Something different. Seconds pass and a pit grows in Jonathan’s stomach as the manager twitches soundlessly, wanting the moment to pass he calls out to the man, “Romeo? You alright?”

Focus returns to the manager’s eyes and he laughs, “Hah! Of course, sorry about that sir! You just let me know if you need anything Mr. Clark.” With that he does a nod and closes the door behind himself, there’s the click of a lock but Jonathan doesn’t notice as he instead hones in on the fact that he just called the manager by his name.

He racks his mind to remember if he introduced himself, the manager did recognize him after all? Perhaps they’ve met before. He chews on the idea and tries to ignore the feeling of pulling the man’s name from some place in his mind he doesn’t have access to. Maybe he was wearing a name tag. Of course, with a sigh of relief tension fades from his chest before he even realizes how tight it had become from anxiety. He has all employees wear name tags after all, helps the customers feel at home.

After a second of rest he is struck with the implications of that flitting thought. He what!? Tightness in his chest returns with a furor as memories or meetings with teams of people he doesn’t recognize flash through his mind. Planning a culture, running shifts, designing a restaurant. Clutching at his chest with one hand and his head with the other Jonathan worries he’s losing it and goes to sit down. Reflexively opting for the cushy desk chair behind the desk rather than either of the two by the door. “God it was just a tacky statue, why am I having an episode about this!?”

Sitting in the boss’ chair Jonathan finds himself growing unreasonably warm. Sweat drips from his brow as he tries to bring to mind strategies one would use to soothe a panic attack. Looking for something solid in the room to focus on Jonathan sees a photo of the owner standing next to the gaudy statue. Grimacing, through grinding teeth he grunts out a “not helpful.” Even less helpful is the ensuing migraine, as it pangs he blinks concertedly and upon reopening his eyes he finds the image has shifted to one of himself standing next to the statue, a too large smile plastered on his face just like that of the god-awful statue. Somewhere repressed within him the phrase ‘happiest day of my life’ pings, though his conscious mind resounds with an image of his college graduation.

Clearly unable to find peace in this room he fights against his perpetually pliant instincts and stands to leave despite Romeo’s request. Now standing, he realizes something bizarre has seemingly begun to happen to his body. It’s like he’s bloated? Looking down he sees buttons on his shirt suddenly straining. His indisputably slim waist has begun to expand. The sensation of being starved and sated paradoxically rise at once within Gionathan as he feels the sudden urge, an otherworldly need to burp. He chokes it down at first but as his waist continues to strain, now revealing skin in between buttons as his chest too begins to bulge he is unable to stop the rising gas.

Polite young man he is, even as it erupts he tries to at least quiet his burp, which only causes it to burst with more force. Louder than those performative burps that blare from his less than couth cohort, his face burns with embarrassment despite being alone in the room. His body doesn’t stop at one either, he belches uncontrollably as body inches larger with each release. Quickly bursting buttons off the front of his shirt and freeing a torso that, alongside growing a healthy layer of weight, has begun to itch.

His blonde treasure trail has slowly begun to thicken as his fingers furiously scratch into his new weightier gut. Not noticing the definitive muscle hiding beneath he instead balks as he feels his light body hair spread out and upwards. Sticky sweat still covering his form as the heat has not abated in the slightest he looks down to observe the unfamiliar curves sticking out from his chest as his few nearly invisible chest hairs begin to thicken in the center of his chest, meeting the still rising furry patch on his stomach.

The movement of his arms bring a new change to his mind as they too have not been spared from these must be imagined changes. New biceps breach the open air as they bulge large enough to tear the sleeves into tatters, not obscene but simply too large to be restrained by his usually loose fitting button-up. Gionathan has never been especially proud of his figure, but looking down and seeing something more akin to the countless forms of men he’s masturbated to throughout the years brings a new, less terryfying emotion to whatever this nightmare is.

Gionathan feels butterflies in his chest as he clutches at definitive pecs that now lie on top of it. He bites his lip as the idea that there’s now something you can grab there shoots a wave of static into his mind. Knees almost giving way as he takes time to explore his changes, Gionathan returns to sit in his chair and feel himself up. As he continues to chew on his lip to avoid moaning, his eyes remain shut to allow his imagination to flourish.

This leaves him unaware of the tan that has begun to tint his changing body. Having not been exposed to sunlight in well over a decade, pasty is almost too generous a word to describe his pale torso. And yet, as his thickening hands trail across his meatier waist and play with a chest still growing weightier, his skin darkens to one naturally sun-kissed.

Wider palms smearing sweat across an expanding torso, his mind begins to drift. Playing with chest hair as it grows thicker his fingertips almost accidentally come across nipples that have grown extensively as his pecs begins to bulge larger. Beginning to play with them his changes begin to accelerate. His mouth scrunches up as itches begin to burn across his face. Stubble that has been kept off his face from a once-a-week shave rapidly rears its head before it thickens en masse. Sideburns shove themselves wider to cover the whole of his cheeks before expanding under his chin as each follicle surges larger and darkens.

Green eyes flicker brown as Gionovan’s suddenly dark stubble quickly leaks upward, staining his pert blonde coif dirty, then brown, before finally turning as black as the curls that have begun to overtake his chest. Each strand changes as his hands continue to dance and delight in his bulkier body. His mouth scrunches as a mustache he’s never dreamed of growing begins to bulge out of his upper lip. Thicker than the hair on his head as memories of his hairline retreating over the years begin to assert themselves into his memory. Coffee dark eyes twitch while remaining closed, his hands trail up to his neck and come across scratchy stubble as he realizes that something is happening beyond skin deep changes.

Pausing his reverie, the young man no longer’s eyes open to see a name plate on his desk, Gionovan Clarvallo. “No, tha’s not-” He clutches at his throat as his voice rumbles deeper. Gionovan stands with a start and the sound of the seat of his pants tearing open resounds in the room. He groans and leans on the table as thighs grow wide and his ass expands into quite a powerful cushion. Clenching his stubble hidden jaw he can barely even realize that he lost something when he languished in his changing form. The label young man doesn’t quite apply anymore as smile crinkles crack around his eyes. His mind races once more to find things to hold onto.

He’s Gionovan Clarvallo. He’s lived in this town for most of his life, or no he lived in the city for a while didn’t he? The man groans as two lifetimes crash into each other like a fusion reaction. His studies evaporate to be replaced by prodigious years at culinary school. His gap year fades as recollections of traveling New York City to find hidden gems and expand his palette grow increasingly vivid, and unknowingly vital to who he is. Once more Gionovan feels a rising need to burp. Hand curling into a fist he covers his mouth and he sees dark curls bathe down his fore arm.

The forest of hair that had only just begun to decorate his chest and stomach rapidly begins to thicken to cover every inch of his form as he struggles once more against pressure rising up his throat. Gionovan launches into a fit of belching once more. With each release his body changes further, jungle of chest hair spreading further, expanding and thickening, growing dark enough to completely hide tanned skin beneath it. His whole body grows wider, taller, heavier. Sweat trails down the side of his torso as his wildly increasing haven of pit hair drips with his new heady musk. Pants burst to shreds as his thighs grow to a size that can scarcely be covered while newly hairy shoulders grow bulkier to match his thickening neck and the weighty arms they are charged to maneuver.

Clutching at his stomach as it expands and grows fluffier with both darkening hair and comfortable weight, Gionovan realizes something. He tastes food more delicious than he’s ever experienced before dancing across his tongue. Flavors unfathomable and unfamiliar make their home in his mouth as his body continues to morph with every heaving release. Pesto sears his sinuses as the waistband of his underwear begins to struggle against his expanding ass and the suddenly monolithic testament to his masculinity bulging in his crotch. Airy gelato cleanses his palate as his stomach begins to hang over said waistband as his legs grow thick enough to send tears in the elastic and curls grow thick enough across them to be a pelt. The aftertaste of rich creamy fresh tomato pasta overwrites more and more of who he once was as memories of his time in the kitchen and traveling the world for new tastes chips away at whatever edges of Jonathan that remain.

As he sits in the office, his office, rubbing at a torso that is rapidly becoming a hairy musclegut, he scratches at his thickening beard as a strange instinct rises as the aftertastes, or memories rather, continue to ephemerally rise. He could cook better than that. It’s why he opened his restaurant after all. To offer nothing but the best to this little town. To help ensure that every inch of the world has to experience the heavenly flavors he’s been so fortunate to enjoy. It’s why he opened his Slice of Italy. Standing with a grunt, there’s a knock on the office door and he realizes that he is almost completely nude. With a gasp, Giovanni clears his throat and calls out, “One minute Romeo!”

He goes to a cabinet in the corner and pulls out a change of clothes, well-suited to his massive form. He’s learned that a man of his size, and passion, should always keep an outfit on standby, after all it’s impossible to predict what any odd day will hold. Quickly struggling into the clothes he figures it’s about time to go up a size as gets the snug clothes on. Smiling at a picture of himself with the statue out front, Giovanni Cavallo goes to unlock his office door and greet his manager. Romeo smirks knowingly at the restaurant’s owner and executive chef before directing the massive man’s attention to a couple of younger men standing uncomfortably near the entrance.

“Evening Hon. Those two over there are the ones that uh, broke the display.” Giovanni puts his meaty hand on Romeo’s shoulder and with a wink rumbles out, “Thanks Rome. Know I can always count on you.” Matching silver bands appear on the fingers of both men and Romeo rolls his eyes before heading off to manage the front of house before the dinner rush is to begin. Giovanni then turns his attention to the hellions awaiting his reprimanding. Sizing them up he imagines what retribution they are to undergo. They could just pay for damages but where’s the fun in that. After all he was always quite fond of that little guy, almost a spitting image of himself he thinks with a smirk, not nearly as hot though. Flexing involuntarily he meets the pair and they immediately squeal.

The pair toss each other under the bus before Giovanni even has a chance to open his mouth and the massive chef scowls. No, these two need to be taught a lesson. At the clearing of his throat the bickering rats are struck mute and stare up at the owner. The kitchen could use a couple new junior chefs. Imagining the two men before him shaping up to fine young professionals under his tutelage, he has no recourse but to offer they work off the damages, “You boys any good in the kitchen?” Shiftily looking at each other the idea seems easy enough and in no time at all Romeo’s tossed them aprons and they’re in the back of house working up a sweat.

They find themselves more at home prepping vegetables and decorating dishes than they do in their actual homes. Quickly do they become acclimated enough to the kitchen that doing anything else is anathema to them. Their light hair rapidly shades darker and their outfits adapt to become suitable to the jobs they enjoy so much. The pair of once ruffians shift and stretch as their physiques become impressive as Giovanni’s was way back when he was their age. Wandering about his restaurant, the executive greets guests and compliments his staff, driving them to strive even harder to make him proud.

When he gets to his two newest hires, Alessio and Angelo, Giovanni watches them sprout taller as beards race to thicken and hide their shy smirks from his praise. Patting them on the back both men struggle to focus on their tasks at hand as his attention brings them more satisfaction than they could imagine. Commenting on their impressive figures he offers to show them the ropes at the gym in their free time and the junior chefs make eye contact as their biceps bulge larger. Giovanni laughs heartily, bringing a smile to everyone within earshot as they continue to craft the perfect slice of Italy in this small town. “You boys remind me of when I was younger heh, Keep up the good work!”

With that Giovanni goes to stand sentinel at the entrance and welcome guests in. In lieu of his little standee someone’s gotta be the first smiling face that guests see, and given how smooth nights at Giovanni’s Slice of Italy always are, his presence is superfluous. He’s just happy to be here and every day the titan strives to make sure that every guest and employee is as well.

#male tf #bear tf #mental change #masculinization #hair growth #reality change #muscle tf #male transformation #beard growth #age progression

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retroaria · 2 months ago

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NSFW kaiser hcs plsplspls omggg >.<

MICHAEL KAISER: NSFW Headcanons

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write these so bad but i needed the motivation so thank you anon lemme give you a kiss 💋

sorry this is so short 😓

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 🦋

• kaiser is 100% the dominant one in bed, but that doesn’t mean he won’t let you top him. he’s a service top/soft dom (most of the time), so he’ll let you do whatever will get you off as long as he gets to participate.

• he loves being marked up. bite marks, scratch marks, bruises on his shoulders, hickeys all over his neck and collar bone, he could stare at himself in the mirror and drool at the sight of your work on him. especially likes the comments he gets from his teammates in the locker room, usually gives a half assed response or brushes it off. feels there’s no explanation needed, he simply fucked you so good you literally had to hold on for dear life and try to eat him lol.

• if you didn’t read my virgin!kaiser post here it is. if you did then you KNOW how i feel about about this topic. unpopular opinion: he is not a whore. kaiser would absolutely save himself for someone special, so chances are he lost his virginity to you. he’s done lots of foreplay with other people in the past, but he didn’t go all the way until he met you and when it happened he was hooked. kaiser has an insatiable libido but he does know how to control himself. just know that you’ll be getting tons of horny texts, nudes, phone calls just so he can hear your voice while he jerks off, he’s a menace.

• he is EAGER to learn about you and your body and every little thing he can do to make you squirm. would spend hours just touching and playing with you to figure it out. teases and edges you all the time (likes to edge himself a little too). wants you to tell him what you want, loves hearing you verbalize your sexual desires.

• will make you talk about sex in inappropriate situations. he’ll whisper dirty words in your ear and smile at you. dinner with the fam? “You’d look so pretty bent over this table.” tries to coax you into joining the mile high club any time you take a flight. he has absolutely no filter when it comes to talking about sex. will reminisce on last nights ministrations while you’re in the car, out to eat, whispering over to you at the movie theater. he’ll ask if you liked certain things he did, if you want to try something different, tell you yet again how good you were for him.

• he’s not a fan of toys aside from vibrators for you but i can see him being into some light bondage perhaps? he likes when he can fuck you and you can’t touch him or yourself.

• kaiser doesn’t like the idea of others watching you guys fuck but he likes the idea of them knowing he’s fucking you if that makes sense. wants you to be loud when there’s other people in the room next to you. makes sure his thrusts are hard enough to my the door or the bed shake and creek. he only does this if he’s around people you guys know. doesn’t want random people to know y’all are fucking but definitely like if he’s teammates or friends are around, rival teams too perhaps.

• this boy loves intimacy so much, as horny as he is, he likes to make sex with you special when he can. when he comes back from playing in another country, desperately yearning for your touch, he does everything in his power to make it the most romantic and passionate experience for you. he takes his time and keeps his pace at a cool medium, not too fast but he doesn’t drag them out too much. kisses everywhere the entire time, can’t take his lips off your perfect skin that he’s missed so much. can’t stand to see it without a single sign of him, so he’s marking you up along the way. moaning your name right into your ear and mumbling “i love you”’s into the crook of your neck. he’s going for as long as possible by the way, switching positions, eating you out for what feels like forever, he could go all night like this.

• he isn’t the kinkiest guy but he will try whatever you want to try. doesn’t mind if he has to be a little mean to you or even if he has to be a little submissive. really cares about sex being an enjoyable experience so he wants to make sure you’re both getting to explore your fantasies. i could see him being into roleplay a little ngl.

• i’m sorry but this man has a perfect dick. it’s like 5-6 inches, not too big not too small, his girth fills his length perfectly, he has a very slight upwards curve that prods into your sweet spots perfectly every time. he keeps himself excessively well groomed. when he gets undressed in front of you all you can do is stare in awe at how pretty he is. his shaft is the same pale tone as the rest of his skin, his veins aren’t very prominent and his tip is pink and cute???? Idk call me weird IDC he’s a pretty boy.

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gothghostiie · 3 months ago

Note

Hey my boss has just made me cry at work so could I be very self indulgent ask ask for a 141 boys reaction to reader coming home in tears cos their boss is being a dick?

hi, so this happened to me the very day you sent it (i got the ask like right after work). i hope youre feeling a lil better honey

Gaz is all smiles when he hears you come into the apartment, probably making dinner for the two of you in the kitchen. turns around to greet you when you step in but immediately drops the smile when he sees the tears in your eyes. wiping his hands and coming to pull you into a hug, one hand on the back of your head, the other rubbing your back. "shh, it's okay baby.. you're okay, I'm here.." he tries to soothe you, wanting you to calm down before telling him what happened. when you do tell him he's so angry on your behalf but definitely more worried about you feeling better, so he swallows his anger and keeps a soft but tight hold of you, while whispering soothing words. "I'm sorry baby.. how about we eat dinner and then distract you for now, hm? c'mon, I made your favourite."

Soap is probably playing video games or journaling when you come home, peering at the door when he hears the keys in the lock. shouts a quick greeting as you walk in, he glances at you briefly before he does a double take and registers you're crying. puts whatever he's holding aside and pulls you into his lap to hug you, your legs hanging off one of his thighs. "aye, what's the matter honey? who's ass do I have to beat?" he tries ti make you chuckle a bit, but it's no use as what happened spills from your lips. he listens intently, his grip tightening a bit while he curses under his breath. "fuckin' bastard, I'm gonna-" stops himself when he hears your sob and takes a breath, knowing he should be there for you rather. " 'm sorry darling.. I'm here for you.."

Price immediately notices something is off when he hears how quietly you enter, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows as he listens for any hint of what's wrong. "Love, come here, will you?" he orders gently, his expression knowing as he sees you, nodding. "thought so. come here love." he says gently, patting the seat next to him. once you're sat he wraps a strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him, head onto his shoulder as he lets you cry it out for a bit. he's quiet, listening to your sobs and shaky explanation of what happened, frowning as you tell him about your boss. "my poor thing." he murmurs, rubbing your head with his other hand, shaking his head. "it's okay, you're here now. I'm here."

Ghost has a sixth sense for that stuff. the moment the keys are in the lock he makes a beeline for the door, standing against the wall with crossed arms as you step inside, eyeing you over; his suspicions confirming. "what happened?" he asks, listening to you explain before nodding to let you come closer. wrapping his arms around your torso and picking you up, cradling you against his strong build while carrying you to the bedroom. sits in bed with you, holding you close until youve calmed down. wraps you in your shared blanket and puts on your favourite movie. "ill be back in a bit, call if you need anything. i love you." he comes back around 1 ½ hours later with takeout, and a guarantee that your boss will watch how he talks to you from now on.

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xxsunoosprincess · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! How are you doing? I love your writing btw, you’re definitely one of my favourite writers 🙈

I don’t know if anyone has asked this yet, but enha legal line + aftercare?? What they’d do, how they’d act kind of thing? Maybe even how they’d like to be taken care of? It’s perfectly okay if you don’t want to do this 🤗

hi hi!! I’m a little sick rn but doing good because I’m finally done with school >:3 also u make me blush sweet anon… I’m glad my stuff makes you happy!! sorry it took a minute to get around to this but I’m indulging in some softer stuff while I sniffle away in bed :,) thanks for the request!!

Enhypen and Aftercare (OT6)

pairings: Enhypen legal line x reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, mentions of sex but not pure smut, fem bodied!reader

Heeseung

His face contorts into an expression halfway between pain and pleasure as he slow lying inches his sensitive length out of you, a breathless “hahh” escaping him as he shivers, collapsing onto you. It pulls an unexpected grunt out of you, followed by a series of giggles as he borrows into your neck, huffs of hot air tickling your sensitive skin.

“What the fuck” he whines out. You feel his hands squeeze your hips “your pussy is crazy”. The seriousness in his voice has you caught between a belly laugh and a faux scandalized gasp, swatting his ass gently as you scold him for such crude words. “I’m serious! You. Your body. You’re just perfect…” small pecks between each word, sleepy yawns, and a dopey heeseung clinging to you like a koala. Has fallen into the routine of fucking you before bed, claims it’s “the only way I can sleep now. Need you so bad”, and it might just be true because you can already feel the gentle vibrations of his snores against your collarbone.

Jay

Don’t play rn Jay is literally the embodiment of doting aftercare. The routine is locked and mf loaded. After he bullies your cunt until it’s sore and you are sure you can’t walk, this pillow talk starts. This part is just as much for you as it is for him, because he doesn’t think he could walk right now either. Promises of a future together, a catch-up on how your days have been, chats about if you liked the newest thing he introduced to your romp in the sheets. Just hearing your sweet voice cut through the quiet of night is enough to reground him (plus, he really does care about what you have to say).

I think he’s a little lazy with clean up, keeps a pack of wet wipes at the bedside table to give you both a once over, makes a half-promise to shower with you in the morning, and then rolls over to spoon you, peppering light kisses down your neck as your naked bodies intertwine to watch an episode of your guys’ favorite tv show. To Jay, aftercare is just as intimate as the actual sex. Unintentionally romantic in every way.

Jake

He’s the one that needs the most extensive aftercare, and come on, doesn’t he deserve it? He will eat you out for hours until you are kicking and squealing and prying him away by his hair. He will fuck into you from behind like it’s his sole purpose on his earth. And when all is said and done, he can hardly talk, slipping between English and Korean as he mumbles out a mix of curses and “so good, princess, so good”.

We wants you to play with his hair, curling up into your chest and peppering light kisses across your skin. He won’t admit how his heart skips a beat when you coo out a soft “good boy” to him, instead, he playfully bites you in retaliation. He won’t say anything about it, though. He loves the extra soft treatment, it’s like a reward for pushing himself to his limits to make you feel good.

Sunghoon

He’s such an angel. He’s sweeping you up in his arms to carry you to the bathroom. It doesn’t matter how big you are, he insists on carrying you because you are his baby (“you know, I don’t lift all those weights for nothing” cue the cheesy flexing). Lets you soak in the shower for a bit while he changes the sheets and prepares pajamas for you. Big believer in actions speak louder than words.

“Was I too rough on you today?” he pouts, slipping into the shower after finishing his post-coital rounds and eyeing the redness that has stuck around on the meat of your ass. No amount of reassurance of you liking it will erase the worried expression, eyebrows drawn together and lips pressed into a thin line. The only thing that makes him stop, makes him burst out into laughter and splash water at you, is the promise you make to spank him next time around.

Sunoo

I’m sorry but he is definitely crying afterwards. Y’all know I’m not on the babygirl Sunoo agenda all the time, but this is something I’m absolutely positive about. He’s just so overwhelmed with emotion, so happy that you trust him to see you in such a vulnerable state, so happy to be with you, so in love with you, the tears are forming in his eyes the moment he watches you reach your finish underneath him. “My pretty girl” sniffle sniffle “you’re so- fuck- so gorgeous”. Doesn’t matter how long you have been together, there is about a 50% chance of tears every time you guys fuck.

He tends to get embarrassed about crying like that so please give him lots of reassurance :(. Gets a little shy and whiny at vocalized praise, but loves gentle back rubs and showers together. Let him wash and dry you, he likes to feel like he is taking care of you just as much as you take care of him <3.

Jungwon

I’m sorry he’s so silly and sweet after. Needs to make you laugh after an intense moment. Eases his mind to see you so happy after being so vulnerable (firm believer in the wonie softie agenda). Still naked as the day he was born as he playfully wrestles with you in the sheets. He’s right next to your ear, letting our exaggerated high-pitches moans and squeals of “wonnie harder!”. He giggles at your indignant protests, reassuring you that he loves how you can’t get enough of your “very hot and sexy boyfriend”.

He seems like the type that needs to be constantly moving, fetching you towels and water and hand feeding you snacks. “Anything for you, babycakes”. Cheesy ass grin while calling you corny pet names in a teasing voice, dodging the pillow you launch his way.

END.

a/n: reminder that requests are open. I have some to work through and might not do all requests I get, but I love hearing from y’all :3 also this isn’t proofread, just like every thing else 😭 xx - princess

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moonstruckme · 7 months ago

Note

HII I LOVE YOUR WORK SM!! I literally can't stop reading them 😭 I love you so much for making all of them !!

May I ask if we could get more of shy Remus?? As soon as I read the first one I immediately fell in love !

Thank you so much!! 🫶🏽

Hi lovely, thank you! Sorry this took me so long, I've wanted to write it ever since it came into my inbox but it took me forever to come up with an idea </3

cw: very vague implication of smut

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus looks surprised when he opens the door, and immediately after that embarrassed. For what, you never know.

“Hi,” he says, lips curving into a smile as if of their own volition. “Um, I haven’t missed anything, have I?”

You laugh. “No, you’re fine. I was just nearby and thought I might return your jumper.”

It’s a half-truth. You’re ambushing him and you know it, but Remus’ reticent disposition means you know next to nothing about his life and after weeks of dating you’re really itching for a peek behind the curtain. You’ve brought chocolate muffins to make up for it.

“Oh, that’s thoughtful of you.” Remus’ voice is soft as always, that adorable smile still playing on his lips until you both hear footsteps bounding down the stairs inside. He glances behind him, moving a bit more in front of the door. “While you’re here, maybe we could go have coffee or—”

“Who’s that?”

The voice seems like a sound of much dread for Remus, if his expression is anything to go off of. He ignores it, speaking only to you.

“Or there’s a park just down the way—”

“Remus.” It’s a different voice this time, yet the effect upon Remus’ countenance is the same. “Who do you have there?”

“Hi!” you say over his head, mutinous.

“A girl?” Remus’ entire body seems to sag in resignation. “Remus Lupin, stop hiding her from us immediately.”

“Sod off.” He says over his shoulder, as brash as you’ve ever heard him. It’s a bit thrilling.

“I will not. Reveal your secrets, you dirty dog.”

You actually do feel quite bad for Remus, a blush spreading all the way up to the tips of his ears, but he lets go of the doorframe, letting himself be wrestled out of the way.

“Hello.” A dark-haired boy weasels his way into Remus’ place, giving you a salacious up-down. You raise your eyebrows at him, delighted. So this is who Remus associates with when he’s not with you. “My, you’re a pretty thing. And you’re here to see Remus?”

“I am,” you confirm. “I’m here to bring back his jumper.”

“Which would lead one to believe, “a second boy appears behind the first, both of them keeping Remus from reclaiming his spot at the door, “that you’ve seen him before.”

You laugh. “I have. We’ve been dating a few weeks now.”

“Remus!” The second bellows, eyes blowing comically wide behind his glasses. “Weeks? Weeks, and you haven’t said a word. How could you?”

“I don’t suppose you have a bit of time on your hands,” the first boy says smoothly.

“I’ve…” You check the time. “I do, actually.”

He grins, wolflike. You’re not sure who the prey is. You worry it’s your date.

“Yes!” The one with the glasses is effervescent, brimming with eagerness. It’s contagious, you find; you’re smiling too. “You have to come in, please.”

You’re dying to, but you peer past them, locking eyes with Remus. He looks to be wishing for a swift and painless death, but he gives you a soft smile anyways. Nods.

“Sure,” you say, “I could join you for a bit.”

Some of the boisterous energy settles as they usher you inside, the need for urgency vanquished now that they’ve got you in their clutches. Begrudgingly, Remus introduces you, and the other two hassle him about taking off your coat and showing you where to put your shoes before he gets a chance to do either. Soon you’re settled comfortably in the armchair they tell you is Remus’ favorite.

“Can I make you a cuppa?” Remus asks, and James and Sirius both oooh as he rolls his eyes. You nod at him, eyeing the other two amusedly.

“He must really like you,” James says, “if he’s offering to make you tea.”

“Hence why you’re not getting any,” Remus says over his shoulder as he stalks for the kitchen.

“Prick,” Sirius calls after him. “We didn’t want any anyways.” But he crosses his arms, sulking back against the couch cushions. James, on the other hand, leans towards you.

“So,” he says severely, “what are your intentions with our Remus?”

A quiet sound of distress comes from the kitchen, but you all ignore it. “Your Remus?” you ask.

James nods self-assuredly. “We’ve known him since primary school. If you two get married, I’ll be the one giving him away.”

You raise your eyebrows. Remus’ head pops out of the kitchen, glaring daggers in a way you didn’t know he knew how. “You will not.”

“What?” James looks gutted.

“That’s not the point.” Sirius waves both of his friends off, though James looks like he would very much like to continue on the topic. “Tell us about you two, gorgeous. Where did you meet, how long have you been dating, has Remus told you where he hides his chocolates?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Remus says, coming back with your tea. He passes it to you carefully, handle out, and both you and James hiss at him for holding the hot part.

“We haven’t even gotten her to answer anything yet,” Sirius complains.

“It’s not her fault you haven’t given her the chance.” Remus perches on the armrest of the chair. It's probably so he can avoid sitting next to his nosy friends, but pride swells in your chest anyway at being chosen. You take his hand, and he squeezes your fingers in response.

Sirius coos. “Only a few weeks of dating and he’s already holding her hand. I’m so proud.”

You grin up at Remus, knowing what you could say to really shock his friends but not wanting to embarrass him further. He’s already flustered enough that his scars stand out in stark contrast against his flushed skin, but his look softens as he meets your eyes. Something about him eases, a small smile curving his lips.

You decide it’s permission enough.

“You’ve been a bit bolder than that, haven’t you, handsome?”

James and Sirius erupt in hoots and hollers. Remus looks like he might well fall off the edge of the chair for how stiff he’s gotten.

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. It’s burning. “I’m not trying to torment you. We can go be alone in your room, if you like.”

“No-o.” James waggles a finger at you. “Now that we know what you’re up to, you won’t be getting him alone in our house. You’re set on corrupting him!”

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gingersxng · 2 months ago

Text

Dominate Me

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+

Summary: your boyfriend allows you to be in charge for one night but the urge to be the one in charge gets too strong when he instead ends up dominating you.

Notes: switch!reader, switch!Mingi ( Mingi’s a dom!), Mingi has a big dick! (OFC), handcuffs, dirty talk, pet names (big boy, horny boy, naughty boy, doll, my girl), blowjob, deep throating, reader is a tease, cowgirl, unprotected sex (DONT), cum cum cum, slight breeding kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, handjob, kissing, mating press, creampie, nasty nasty.

a/n: I’ll be answering more requests soon, I’m sorry for not being very good at that but I promise I’ll be better. Hopefully will write other members more too but being Mingi biased makes it hard to keep my hands off writing about him… I don’t even know if you guys enjoy these anymore??

Words: 1.4k

It was usually Mingi who played the dominant role in the bedroom and you would lie if you said you didn’t like it but you had a secret wish to flip the script and take control for once. And only for tonight, Mingi was willing to indulge you.

You prepared yourself, you put on his favourite new lingerie in dark red lace that he bought you for your 23rd birthday, your heart raced as you laid out the handcuffs on the bedside table, it was the only thing Mingi allowed. You wanted to give Mingi something special, a night where you would show him your dominant side that maybe would get him to change his mind, let you take control from time to time.

Mingi finally entered the bedroom, his tall, muscular frame filling the doorway. His dark damp hair and intense gaze sent a shiver down your spine, he really knew how to make you nervous but it wouldn’t stop you from doing this. He smirked, knowing what was about to unfold and allowed himself to be guided to the bed. You pushed him gently onto the soft mattress, he was scanning your delicate body. His eyes didn’t seem to let go of your soft tits, the push up bra worked as it was designed to.

You snapped him out of it and reminded him that you’re in charge, so it would be non of his perverted actions.

"Tonight, you're all mine," you whispered seductively, your voice laced with a newfound confidence. You straddled his waist and leaned in close capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Mingi responded eagerly, his tongue dancing with yours as your mouths locked together. You could taste the desire in his kiss, a hunger that mirrored your own.

With deliberate movements, you trailed soft kisses down his neck, nipping gently at his sensitive skin. Mingi let out a low moan, his hands instinctively reaching for your tits but you gently pushed them away, reminding him yet again of your roles tonight.

"No touching, my horny boy," you teased, your breath was hot against his ear. "Tonight, I'm in charge."

You reached for the handcuffs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his skin. With a quick click, you secured his wrists together to the bedposts, rendering him helpless and at your mercy. Mingi's eyes widened with surprise and a hint of nervous excitement, his cock twitched in his boxers.

"Oh, you naughty boy, enjoying being restrained," you purred, running your fingers along his muscular arms. "Let's see how long you can last before begging for release." You traced your fingers down his chest, playing with the light dusting of hair that led to his happy trail. Your touch was feather-light, sending shivers of anticipation through his body. You kissed and nibbled your way down his torso, paying attention to every inch of his skin. Reaching the waistband of his boxers, you paused, teasing him by gently blowing on the bulge that was already straining against the fabric. Mingi squirmed, his dick throbbing with need. You giggled softly, enjoying the power you held over him.

With slow, deliberate movements, you pulled down his boxers, revealing his impressive erection. His dick stood tall and proud, thick veins pulsing with each heartbeat. You admired his cock, knowing the pleasure it could bring but tonight you wanted to tease and torment him first.

Leaning forward, you ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, making him gasp and arch his back. You took your time, savoring the salty taste of his skin. Your mouth enveloped the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip making Mingi moan and buck his hips.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy" he groaned. You smiled around his length, taking him deeper down your throat. You sucked and bobbed your head, your wet mouth providing relentless pleasure. Mingi's breath quickened, his body tensed as he fought the urge to climax.

"Not yet, big boy" you whispered, releasing his cock with a pop. "I want you to last."

You dragged your fingers lightly down his enormous length and grabbed the base of his cock, you straddled his waist again, pulling your panties to the side you positioned his throbbing cock at your entrance. With a slow, deliberate motion, you sunk yourself down on his length, taking him deep inside your hot, wet pussy. Mingi's eyes rolled back as he felt her tightness envelop him.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he grunted, his hips thrusting upwards, seeking more contact.

You set the pace, rising and falling on his shaft, your pussy muscles squeezing and massaging his cock. Your breasts bounced with each movement and Mingi couldn’t keep his eyes off them. You leaned forward letting your nipples brush against his chest, teasing him more.

"You like it when I ride you, don't you?" You taunted, your voice was breathless. "Do you like being my personal fuck toy?"

Mingi could only nod, too focused on to not come. You increased your pace, your pussy gripping him tightly, riding him like you’ve never done before. Your hands grasped his broad shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as you neared your peak.

"Cum for me, big boy" you urged, "Fill me up with your kids”

Your dirty words were all it took to send Mingi over the edge. He arched his back, his cock twitching as he released a torrent of hot cum deep inside you. You cried out, your own orgasm crashing over you as you felt his warmth filling you up. You continued to jump up and down his cock to ride out your orgasm, his body tensed more and more with each move you did and he was almost about to burst for the second time.

You slowly got off him and he watched how his softened cock slid out of you, all covered in your mixed juices. “Fuuck”

Hovering over him you placed small kissed on his neck down to his chest, all the way back down to his pubic bone. Mingi let out a deep moan when you grabbed his cock and began to pump him, the blood rushed down his dick and in just a few seconds he was fully hard again. “You want me to fuck you again?” You looked at him through your lashes. “Just fuck my cock so I finally can get my hands on you” he begged.

You did as he wished, you placed yourself on his cock and gave it everything you had left to give. Rocking your hips back and forth, round and round and clenching around him hard. You made him cum for the second time tonight, you got off him to undo the cuffs.

Mingis wrists were red and sore, his breathing heavy. He caressed your body as you lied on top of him giving you kisses on your forehead, he told you what a great job you did but he had to get his ways with you before calling it a night.

He rolled you over swapping places with him so you were at the bottom, he quickly grabbed the handcuffs and tied your wrists to the bedpost. You were shocked but not surprised by his actions. “You couldn’t let me have this one night could you?” You snapped. Mingi traced his hand grabbing the hem of your panties, pulling them off you, he guided his cock to your entrance and swirled the tip around coating it with your arousal. “Of course I did, you got to dominate me but now it’s my turn to dominate you as always doll” he purred before shoving his cock all the way in your warm wet pussy. You swallowed a gasp when he hit your sweet spot, his cock rubbing all the right places inside you. “You love it when I fuck your tiny pussy with my big cock, don’t ya”

He grabbed the underside of your thighs, pulling your legs up trapping you in a mating press. It was all back to the ordinary, having Mingi’s fat cock plunging your tight cunt, breeding you full.

“Who’s in charge?” Mingi growled, your words were stuck in your throat and nothing came out. “I said who’s in charge!” He went rougher on you when you didn’t answer. His hard thrusts against your hips made you stutter your words. “Yo-you’re in-in charge mmm ah, you always fucks me the best”

The sheets were stained and sticky under you, so was your insides as Mingi creamed inside you yet again with a big load of cum.

“mmhh that’s my girl”

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #kpop smut #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi #mingi imagines

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peachysunrize · 2 months ago

Text

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, fluffff fluuuuffff disgustingly sweet lol, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 6k+

A/n: sorry for the delay, I hope this chapter lifts your spirits! Happy reading my loves and reblogs & comments are always appreciated🥹💕

Taglist: it’s closed!

-> series masterlist <-

Chapter 6: a summer worth living

The sound of a notification catches Aemond’s attention. He reaches for his phone on the desk, smiling when he sees your name on his screen.

Clementine: “Need your help with something!”

His smile widens as he types back, scratching behind Vhagar’s ear who sleeps beside him on the library’s couch.

Aemond: “Good morning to you too, darling. How can I help you?”

Clementine: “We saw each other at breakfast! Anyway, you should come upstairs to give me your opinion!”

He chuckles, remembering how hard it was for you not to let anyone notice a thing in the way you walked or interacted with him. Still, Helaena’s sharp eyes took the hints immediately, and without hesitation, she dragged you out of the kitchen with a playful glare at Aemond.

Aemond: “Did not have the chance to wish you a good morning in private, or even kiss you, which is why I’ve started my day on a bad note.”

Clementine: “Oh no, did I neglect you today?🥺 If yes, then you should really come upstairs now! Need your help and most importantly, I can give you your morning kisses.”

Aemond shakes his head as he starts typing again, grinning like an idiot.

Aemond: “I’m busy, darling—“

He doesn’t even have the chance to send the next text when he sees yours, and in an instant, he is up on his feet.

Clementine: “I doubt you’ll like it if I ask Aegon to help me choose which bikini to wear while I’m lying half-naked on my bed.”

Aemond: “I’m coming.”

Clementine: “Good boy.”

Without wasting another second, he walks out of the library, skipping a step or two as he makes his way to your room. His heartbeat rises with each step he takes, even the thought of you half-naked is something that sets his skin on fire but to have you confess it to him? He’s a man possessed.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you naked before, quite the opposite. In fact, ever since your night out on the yacht, he hasn’t been able to keep his hands to himself; always touching, caressing, kissing when no one saw — which Helaena scolds him for.

He knocks on your door, looking at the ends of the hallway to see if anyone is around before you open the door pulling him inside your room by grabbing the collar of his shirt.

His lips are on yours in the blink of an eye, pressing you to your door as he kisses you fiercely, his large palms running up and down your naked sides, his lips moving in sync with yours.

“Good morning, handsome,” You mumble between his kisses, urging him to keep going by pressing his face to yours with a hand through his hair. His fingers skim over your hips as he grips them, squeezing your flesh while his tongue explores your mouth.

“It’s certainly a good one now,” he whispers, trailing his lips from your cheeks to your neck, pressing feather-like kisses all over your skin as you lean your head back on the door, giving more space for him to leave his marks on you.

“Pool party with Hel?” he asks, raising his face from your neck to look at you.

“Not a party, just relaxing,” you smile when he grabs one of your arms that is wrapped around his neck, starting kissing from your shoulders to your elbows, “besides, Aegon will definitely show up with alcohol and turn it into— Aemond, stop distracting me!” you giggle when he nips at your wrist, kissing your pulse once more before he leans to lock your lips in a searing kiss.

“Mind if I join you? I promise to behave,” he says, letting go of your arm to reach behind you, caressing your waist before his hands inch down slowly, looking at you with a dangerous glint in his good eye.

“Absolutely-fucking-not,” you dodge under his arms, freeing yourself from his grip, and he finally has the chance to actually look at what you are wearing, or what you are not, because coming up to your room and kissing you distracted him from shamelessly eyeing you only in your bra and underwear, “Also, don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“This is my house, and I can use the pool whenever I want,” he backs you against your bed, “I’m a man of my word, you’ll learn that soon enough.”

“Hmm, is that right?” You turn around and hold the two bikinis up for him to choose, “red or black?”

“I think I might faint if you don’t wear the black one,” he says, smiling as you nod, pursing your lips as you hug his waist.

“I fear what will happen to you if I wear it,” you rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him before reaching to push a few strands of his hair behind his ear.

“I think I’ll drop dead,” he replies, his tone serious and with how he caresses the dip of your back and gazes at you, you know he might just be that serious.

“Aemond,” you pout at him, “I know you’re joking but your death is not funny in any scenario.”

“Alright darling,” he kisses your forehead, squeezing your back, “I won’t talk about it anymore.”

“The fainting though…” you unwrap your arms around him, reaching behind to unclasp your bra, watching his eye drop to your bare chest, “I like that.”

“You fucking tease—“

“Fucking hell!” Helaena screams as she opens the door and closes it immediately, “For fuck sake, can you two please keep it under the fucking radar? I seriously don’t want to see my brother getting giddy with my best friend.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen my boobs before, idiot,” you reply, grabbing the bikini top before asking Aemond to tie the threads around your neck and back, giggling when he bites your shoulder as you listen to Helaena scold the two of you from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, but I don’t need to see Aemond eating your face like a fish! Lock the door next time, and don’t make me wait! You better not fuck when I leave,” she bangs her fist twice on the door before she leaves, making Aemond groan and drop his head on your shoulder.

“She’s annoying.”

“She helped us, be grateful,” you kiss the side of his head before reaching for the bottom of the bikini on your bed, before changing quickly so Aemond wouldn’t get too handsy with you, “At least she’s not like Aegon, he would probably stick around and listen if we fucked.”

“Why are you so obsessed with bringing up that manwhore every time you get naked?” He teases you, shaking his head as he gives you an overall look, licking his lips at the sight of you in a bikini that has his mind-melting.

“To rile you up,” you say, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling Aemond on top of you with the collar of his shirt, forcing him to embrace himself on the bed by his forearms.

“Never thought I’d see this side of you,” he bumps his nose to yours, “sweet sweet friend of Helaena who was my sister’s rock in every way… look at you now, naughtier than anyone I know.”

“I doubt you know many girls—Ahh! Stop, Aemond—“

He starts tickling you, pushing your legs apart to stand between them while his fingers pinch your sides.

“That’s the truth, but I know Aegon and you are worse than him.”

“Take that back!” You laugh, hitting his chest as he tries to flip you over on your stomach but you lock your legs around his waist, “no one is near close to Aegon when it comes to sex.”

“Yeah, you’re right—“

“Now, let me go and distract your sister from what she saw earlier, and you, my handsome handsome nerd,” you give him a sweet kiss on the lips, “should go and put on your switruck and join us by the pool.”

“Deal.”

•••••

Aemond walks out of the house towards the outdoor pool, finding you and Helaena already on the sun loungers while Dreamfyre chases Vhagar, barking and jumping on her with delight. He approaches you, his towel dropped on his shoulder as he sits on the edge of your lounge before he reaches and grabs the back of his shirt, pulling the fabric off with one arm.

“Ew, fuck off,” Helaena groans, looking at how Aemond puts up a show for you, and you do not stare away from him while he is topless and braiding his hair quickly, “You’re disgusting!”

”Oh, please shut up,” you whisper, watching Aemond kissing your knee gently before he walks to the edge of the pool and dives in, splashing water everywhere, “Fuck me.”

“What a showoff!” Helaena throws her book at you, pulling you out of your thoughts, glaring at you with her huge eyes, “You are a totally different person around him! That’s disgusting, stop eye-fucking my brother.”

“I wasn’t!” You hiss at her, pursing your lips together as you meet her eyes, “he’s just…hot, okay?”

“Definitely not okay, dumbass! I don’t want to hear anything but my brother’s sex life, alright?”

“Why? He is so tall and so so big—“

“Fuck off!” She screams and makes a gagging sound, and you laugh in return, watching her face twist in deep disgust, “Where are those two?”

“I don’t know but I hope they get here soon, I’m so thirsty,” you exclaim, chuckling when Vhagar jumps on your lounge, crawling her way up to your lap to just lay there and bask under the sunlight with you, “hello, old lady.”

“YOU STARTED WITHOUT ME?” Aegon’s screech fills the air as he walks with a pout, a cooler in one hand as he joins you and Hel with Daeron, glaring at Aemond who keeps swimming, not really paying attention to his older brother.

“We had no choice, sweetheart,” Helaena says, making room for Aegon and Daeron to sit and bring out the beers.

“Shouldn’t we call Aemond?” You ask, thanking Daeron who hands you a cold bottle of beer, “he might be thirsty too, right?”

“Babe,” Helaena gives you a look that makes you shudder to your bones, “Don’t.”

You nod, because the glare she sends you is probably able to kill you on the spot. You sip on your drink, watching Aemond swim from one side of the pool to the other, his tall frame moving under the water.

“Time for some music!” Daeron announces, pulling out his phone while Aegon takes off his shirt and hands his bottle to Hel before he joins Aemond in the water.

You watch Aemond swim to the edge of the pool, his braided hair wet and dripping as he leans on his forearms, his eye finding yours pretty quickly.

He watches closely as you take a deep breath. He rests his palms on the mosaics and pulls himself out of the pool, sitting on the edge with his legs in the cold water. Aemond no longer looks at you, but his smile widens when he sees your shadow looming over him as you sit beside him, handing him his beer with a shaky exhale.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, crossing one of your legs over the other when he takes a long sip from his beer, his wet hair shining under the blazing sunlight and his throat bobbing as he swallows the drink, “Do you want to kill me or what?”

“Consider this a payback for the little stunt you pulled earlier,” he smirks, running his fingers through his hair, messing up his braid even more, “I had no idea I would have such an effect on you though.”

“Right, you had no idea,” you hiss, rolling your eyes at him playfully, “That’s why you are acting like a supermodel in a shampoo ad in front of me.”

“Shampoo ad? I’m offended,” He whispers, “I thought I was quite clear with what I wanted to do.”

“If making me wet in front of your siblings was your plan, then it worked,” you take a swig from the beer, shaking your head when you see his smug face, “Don’t you fucking dare, Aemond.”

“What? Can I not admire my girl?” He leans back on his elbows, making it harder for you to keep looking at his face while his abs are fully displayed.

“Well, you are making it quite hard for me to keep my cool. Sit up, or else I will break your bones.”

“You gonna jump on me now?” He sits up and leans on the plam he puts right behind your ass, leaning down to whisper, “But you’ll make a scene… or maybe you want them to see, huh?”

“I’m gonna kill you—”

“Holy shit, Mum?”

You and Aemond turn around immediately, finding Alicent coming to join you by the pool with her auburn hair falling around her shoulders, her sunglasses resting atop his head while she walks toward the empty lounge only in her swimsuit.

“What now? I can’t enjoy a good day in my own pool?”

“Of course, but—” “You have never worn a swimsuit before,” Aegon finishes Helaena’s sentence.

“Everything has a first time,” she exhales, turning around to find Cole looking away immediately from her, clearing his throat as he guards the door to the house before she looks back at all of you, “Can you stop looking at me like I have grown another head? It’s summer and I wanna spend some time with my children before they leave again.”

“I’m gonna ask you something and I want the truth,” Aemond nods and helps you on your feet, “Does Cole… have feelings for your mum?” “Yup,” he guides you by his palm on your waist, joining the group, “I don’t think they have done anything other than probably talking to each other but you can feel how happier Mum is around him.”

“That’s…unexpected but really cool,” you reply, “What if they fucked—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he pinches your side before he distances himself from you, standing next to his mother, “How are you doing, Mum?”

“Amazing! Now come on, what are you demons up to?” Alicent asks, ruffling Daeron’s head a little before she sits beside him.

“Muuuuum I’m twenty-one! You gotta stop doing that!” Daeron pouts, and pops a beer for his mother, handing her the cold beverage.

“You are no fun,” she does it again, to which Daeron tries to act as if he hates it, “anyway, what are you going to do? And please spare me the dirty jokes, Aegon, and let’s do something fun.”

“Sunbathing?” Aegon suggests, laying head on Helaena’s lap.

“Nah, Aemond will burn so bad,” Helaena laughs as soon as Alicent says, and you try to stifle your giggles but Aemond’s glare only makes you burst out laughing.

“How bad?” You ask.

“So bad! Once we went to an aqua park, and I am not kidding when I said he looked so red when we were driving back! His whole body was burnt, and he doesn’t get tanned, he burns!”

“Mother, please,” he shakes his head and walks to an empty lounge, resting his head on his arm, “anything but sunbathing.”

“Oh, I know I know!” Daeron finishes his beer before he talks, “Pool Volleyball? Yeah? Girls vs boys?”

“Come on, take it easy on Aegon, Hel will eat him alive,” you shrug as you say and watch Aegon whip his head in your direction.

“You're counting me among the girls?” He looks at you, wide-eyed and blushing, “How dare you?”

“You said your tits are nicer than mine.”

“You said what?” Alicent asks, wiggling her eyebrows at Aegon who just grins at her before he stands up and pulls his t-shirt off, “these are definitely nicer than hers.”

“You’re just sour that you don’t carry a vagina around with you all the time,” you pat his shoulder before putting your beer on the table between the lounges, bending down a bit in front of Aemond, giving him a good view of your cleavage.

“Fucking tease,” Aemond whispers and sits up immediately, looking at Aegon to wipe the image of your body from his head before you get him in trouble, “we don’t have a net, how are we going to play?”

“You know what? Forget the game, let’s go inside and order something for lunch.”

“You sure, Ali?” You ask, earning a kiss on your forehead from Alicent before she nods.

“Absolutely, come on, ducklings.”

“Yes, Mama Duck,” Aegon and Daeron follow her inside the house, leaving Helaena alone with you.

“I’m gonna leave,” she stands and points at you two, “you better not do it here, and clean up this mess. A payback for this morning.”

“What do you take us for? Horny teens?” You ask, but Aemond proves her wrong immediately, standing up from the lounge to wrap his arms around your waist, “Aemond—“

“That’s exactly what I mean! Urgh, you guys need to get a fucking room!” Helaena sneers, leaning forward to press a kiss on your cheek before flocking Aemond’s forehead and leaving you alone.

“Come,” Aemond kisses your shoulder before intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you behind him towards the end of the pool, helping you up a few stairs that lead to the jacuzzi hidden from the house’s view.

“Hmm, this is nice,” you lower yourself in the warm water, leaning your head back as you watch Aemond do the same, sighing as his muscles relax instantly.

“How are you feeling, beautiful?” He asks, pulling you closer by snaking his arm around your waist, guiding you so you are perched across his lap, “I’ve missed you.”

“We haven’t been apart even for one minute,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, “How is it that you miss me so much, Little nerd?”

“I don’t know, maybe I like you a lot,” he shrugs, kissing the side of your head while his large palm glides across your thighs under the water.

“Uh huh, no funny business in the jacuzzi, mister,” you kiss the corner of his lips, smiling when he squeezes your flesh before he brings his lips down to yours, tasting the beer off your tongue.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he whispers against you, pecking your lips and cheeks, keeping you close to him while you scratch the back of his neck.

“Good, that’s exactly what I want,” you bite his lower lip, making him groan in response, “Now let’s go, I’m sure your Mum is looking for us.”

“I don’t wanna leave!” He whines but follows you as you grab his hand and step out of the water, and he ogles at your back, his eye trailing over your ass in the bikini, “I need to get away from you as soon as possible or I’ll bend you over the nearest surface and—“

“Good thing I’m gonna let go of your hand because Daeron is coming out of the house,” you whisper before you turn around and shoot him a teasing smile, looking back at Daeron and waving at him.

“What did I get myself into?”

•••••••••

Aemond sighs, pushing the glasses on the bridge of his nose as he keeps reading his book under the dim light of his lamp, lying on top of his cold bed sheets.

He looks up when he hears his door knob twisting, finding you peeking through the door at him before you ask quietly if you can come in which he of course says yes.

“Hi,” you say, leaning back on the door, looking at him shyly, and he takes his time to look at what you are wearing; a short silky nightdress that falls on your upper thighs, the straps of it falling down from your shoulders.

“Hey you,” he closes his book and puts it on the nightstand before he extends his hand for you to come and take it, “why are you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply, padding across the room until you reach his bed, crawling on top of him, straddling him gently, “You?”

“I like reading in the dark,” he explains, his surprisingly soft palms caressing your exposed thighs gently, making you rest your hands on his bare chest.

“So that’s where the glasses come from,” you tease him, “I had no idea you owned plaid pajamas.”

“What can I say? Aegon bought them for me as a souvenir from Dorne,” he scoffs, letting his hands wander under the silk fabric of your dress, running his fingers up and down on your heated skin, “He has quite the questionable taste.”

“I like them,” you tell him, leaning down to kiss his cheeks, your fingers also tracing the muscles of his chest, grazing your nails against his neck, “They suit you.”

“Yeah? Well then, I’ll wear them more often,” he turns his head, pressing his lips to yours gently, kissing you softly while one of his hands comes up to hold you close to him by the back of your neck, “What are you really doing here, hmm?”

“Well… you see…” you whisper, trailing your kisses from his lips to his ear, biting on his earlobe, “Seeing my boyfriend all wet and dripping had me feeling things…”

“Boyfriend, huh? Tell me more, darling,” he throws his head back, giving you enough space to kiss down his neck, sucking a little mark on the skin of his throat.

The blood rushes to his cock as soon as you start grinding your hips down, your clothed cunt rubbing against the bulge in his pants as you nibble on his collarbone, licking the line of his bone before you look up at him, grinning softly.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he says, his hands going down to your hips to rock you against his now fully hard cock, groaning when you lean down to take his nipple into your mouth, biting and sucking on the bud feverishly.

“You’ve said it twice today. You must be going nuts then.”

“If you don’t ride me now, I won’t be responsible for what I’ll do to you,” he sighs, already breathless and empty-headed, “I will fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow.”

“Save it for another time, baby,” you sit upward, pressing yourself completely down on his covered cock to pull down your nightdress enough for your boobs to be exposed before sitting up on your knees, reaching beneath his pajamas to pull his cock out, “I need to feel you tonight.”

“Take what you need, darling—fuck…” you both sigh in delight when you press his tip to your entrance, bracing yourself with one hand on his chest while the other guides him further into you until you slowly sit on him, taking his full length inside you.

“Aemond,” you moan as you start to grind your hips down, gently rolling them in circles in a way that has Aemond digging his nails into your flesh.

“There you go, beautiful, that’s right,” he spreads his legs more, his silver hair framing his face like rays of moonlight while you gaze down at him, watching his face morph into a hazy smile, “You’re unreal.”

“So are you, you should see yourself,” you gasp as you start to slowly move up and down his length, his cock nudging the deep spots inside you deliciously. Nothing is rushed or impatient, you are taking your time with how you ride him, how you memorize his face twist in pleasure.

“There is my girl,” he whispers when you start bouncing a bit faster, gasping and moaning his name while you close your eyes and get lost in the pleasure, “I know you’re close, darling. Give it to me, yeah, come on.”

“A-Aemond, fuck,” you grab on the headboard with both hands as the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you gets more intense, “I- I need more, please—“

“I know, I know,” he looks up at you as if you are a goddess sent from heaven to him, and for him to please you, so he reaches down and starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, “There you go, beautiful, anything for you.”

You down say anything, your moans, gasps and the way you tightly clench around Aemond is enough to set both of your skins ablaze. You fall on his chest and he wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you close to him while he starts snapping his hips up to yours, burying his face into your neck while he drives you both closer to your breaking point.

He breaks first, pulling out quickly, but you stop him before he has the chance to stroke himself and sit on his cock, rubbing your clit to his throbbing member as he twitches underneath you.

“Fuck, darling, I’m gonna—“

“Me too, please— I-I— fuck, Aemond!”

You come together; you gush on his cock while he pulsates and comes on his stomach, ropes of his come covering his body and your wetness dripping on his waist as you shake on top of him.

As soon as you both calm down, he sits up against the headboard and kisses your forehead, pushing a few sweaty strands of your hair out of your face before he leans down and locks your lips with his.

“You made a mess on me,” he chuckles and you bashfully bat your eyes at him before dropping your head on his shoulder, “Don’t sleep on me now, let’s clean up then we can cuddle, yeah?”

••••••••

“Wake up, lovers!” Helaena bangs on Aemond’s door, “it’s way past noon! Come on, wake the fuck up!”

“Your sister hates us I swear,” you groan as you hide your face into Aemond’s neck, tightening your arms around him so he doesn’t leave the bed, “Fuck off, Hel!”

“Nope, I’m coming in, and you better have some clothes on,” she pushes the door open, hands on her hips as she glares at you two, “Up, now! Aegon’s generosity is at its peak and we should take advantage of that. He says he wants to take us for an ice cream date but I’m sure he just wants to hit on the sexy girls who work there.”

“You guys go, we don’t wanna come,” you say, your words muffled by Aemond’s shoulder but when you feel he pulls away a bit, you whine and tuck him closer, “No…”

“Babe, come on! Don’t whine, we’ll have so much fun! Also, Daeron said he had a surprise for us!” Helaena pleads, and you feel Aemond sit up completely.

“Fine,” he groans before he leans down to peck your cheek, “Come on, darling, get up. We’ll drive in my car, yeah? Just the two of us.”

“Fine, fine! I’m up!” You get up but pout at both of them before you give Aemond a quick kiss and leave him alone when Helaena pulls you behind her so you both go to get dressed.

Aemond smiles when you blow him a kiss with your sleepy face and bedhead, sighing when Helaena shuts the door and gives him some time to dress before you come to collect him.

He gets ready quickly, and meets you and Hel at the entrance of the house, smirking when he finds you wearing yet another sundress Helaena has gifted you for no reason. It seems he is not the only one who likes to see you in their belongings — technically, your dress isn’t hers, but the gesture is.

“Ladies,” he nods and you both smile at him. Helaena takes the chance to slip between you both before Aemond can get his hands on you.

“You wanna keep this a secret, better watch yourself around Daeron’s sharp eyes. He’ll go straight to Mum if he finds out.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighs in defeat and looks at you with an apologetic smile, only to be met with your reassuring expression.

“It’s okay, Aemond, don’t worry about it,” you reach around Hel to squeeze his shoulder, telling him it will be alright and that you understand him.

“Finally! Come on, we gotta head to the nearest town and buy a few things before Daeron takes us to his—“

“Shut the fuck up, you gonna spoil my surprise!” Daeron groans in annoyance before he looks at you three, “We’ll get ice cream, then we’ll run some errands and after that, I will help you make a core memory!”

“Sounds fun,” you say, and Aemond nods in response before he walks towards the parking, unlocking his BMW, but he stops and turns around, asking who would like to drive with him.

“I’ll go, I can’t stand Aegon’s playlists,” you say, and walk to Aemond, ignoring Aegon’s protests about how good his songs are, “Come on, let’s go!”

“Yes, princess,” Aemond bows sarcastically before he sits on the driver’s side and starts the engine

“Stop giving me attitude, Aemond Targaryen,” you glare at him playfully, buckling your seatbelt before he drives out of the parking lot, Aegon following you closely with his car.

“Or what?” He taunts you, waiting to see what exactly you have up your sleeve.

“Or I’ll fix it for you,” you do not back down from the challenge, and knowing him, you know he won’t either, “Careful, I can be mean if I want to.”

“Oh, yeah? By all means, be my guest,” he smirks and you smirk back, watching how the afternoon sunlight shines on his face, his hair floating in the air as he eases off the car.

Aemond parks the car in front of a little caf after Aegon, and you step out of the car, Helaena and Daeron joining you both as the group walks inside — and as Helaena said earlier, Aegon starts flirting immediately.

The girl Aegon was talking to takes your orders and you all sit around a table and start talking until Aemond stands up to help Aegon bring your ice cream.

“So, why are we going grocery shopping? Are you taking us for a trip?” You ask, sitting snugly against Aemond, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders unconsciously, making Helaena clear his throat.

“Oh, come on! Everyone knows these two are a thing!” Daeron says, shrugging when Helaena gasps, “I thought everyone knew!”

“You just found out?” Aegon asks, licking his ice cream before he starts talking with a full mouth, “Our brother is not as subtle as he thinks.”

“Fuck off,” Aemond rolls his eye but doesn’t take his arm off of you, “At least I have a girlfriend and you don’t.”

“See! I knew it! Come on, gimme my money!” Aegon stretches his hand out to Daeron, wiggling his fingers as he waits for him to give him his money, “And what do you mean, bro? I am drowning in pussy. You think there’s a day that goes by and I don’t have a pretty girl sitting on my face?”

“I seriously don’t think he wants to hear about your amazing sex life, Aeg,” you say, leaning your head on Aemond’s shoulder, your eyes meeting Helaena’s and she matches your growing smile — now that you know that everyone knows about you and Aemond you can easily let go.

“Hold this conversation, my phone is ringing,” Daeron answers the call, “Hi sir! Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there today. Oh? Are you absolutely sure? That’s perfect… yes yes we will be there in half an hour!”

“Who was it?” Hel asks, finishing off her ice cream before she wipes her hands with the tissue, “It better not be dangerous, Daeron.”

“Easy, sis,” he pats his sister’s shoulder, “We no longer need to go shopping! We can drive straight to our destination!”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Aegon, I’m sure. Come on! We should go and come back before the sun’s gone!” And with Daeron’s cue, you are all up and heading towards the cars, and Aemond takes this chance to thread his fingers through yours, blushing a little when Aegon whistles and acts like a total jerk.

“Ignore him, baby,” you bring his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles, “And don’t worry, I’m sure Hel is telling them to keep their mouths shut and don’t tell anything to your Mum.”

“I hope so,” he smiles and returns the gesture, kissing your forehead before he opens the passenger door for you, and heading towards his own seat.

Aegon drives to the wharf Aemond took you once, and you both share an amused smile as you look at the road.

Spending such quality time with you is… unusual to Aemond. It feels domestic, so… natural and beautiful. Something he’s been craving since he remembers. This familiar warmth spreads in his chest again whenever he glances at you, melting under the slow little touches you give him as you play with the nape of his head, massaging his neck with one hand.

“Are we going to go on the yacht you took me to?” You ask, jumping out of the car, and watching Aemond putting his sunglasses on before his hand automatically reaches for you.

“Nope, that’s why he said it’ll be a core memory,” he replies and you join the trio, “So, are you gonna take us there or what?”

“Stop being impatient, pirate!” Aegon says, “We’re going there, okay? Daeron needs to talk to the captain first.”

“Okay, guys! I’m gonna take you on a one-hour tour of this beautiful Bay! Now, follow me!” Daeron explains as he waves off the captain, and you go with the Targaryens towards his boat, “Board on safely!”

He is the first to jump on his bowrider boat, helping Hel and Aegon next, leaving you in Aemond’s capable hands.

“You guys already have a family yacht, why do you have a personal boat too? And why am I just finding out about all of these? It’s like I’ve just met you guys,” You say and thank Aemond when he helps you in, steading you on your feet with his hands on your waist.

“You good?” He asks.

“Yes,” you kiss his cheek and drag him towards the empty seat next to Helaena, finding Aegon fiddling with bags of snacks on the floor of the boat.

“You see,” Daeron chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his head, “We have an uncle—“

“We have two but go on.”

“As if I don’t already know,” he glares at Aegon, “but, Uncle Gwayne is pretty generous with how he spends the very large amount of useless money he has.”

“Daeron is his favorite,” Aemond whispers, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear, and his statement gets a good few nods and laughs from Aegon and Helaena.

“I am not!” But he soon takes it back, “Fine, okay, I basically grew up with him! One time, he took me on this boat trip with our other relatives and it was super fun! He kind of noticed how much I loved it and bought me this out of the fucking blue!”

“Wow, does your uncle also take wishlists? I would love to own a Rolls Royce, you know?”

“I can buy it for you,” Aemond says, looking into your eyes dead serious, “I have the money.”

“I was joking…” you chuckle, cupping his face into your hands, “For real?”

“Yeah, anything. Name it and it’s yours,” he shrugs as if he didn’t just tell you he would spend countless dollars on you just because you wished for a car.

“It’s really fun to have a hot billionaire boyfriend, you should try it,” you tell Helaena, still in shock at how easily Aemond is ready to just… give you what you want.

“Okay, stop being so lovey-dovey with my brother, and you kid, show us a good time!” Helaena rolls her eyes playfully at you as she talks to Daeron.

This has to be the best evening you’ve ever experienced; it’s filled with laughter and music, Aegon throwing you in the water, Aemond playing the savior, and getting you on the boat after he pushes Aegon in the water for the payback.

It is perfect.

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x you #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond smut #🍊dreams

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bangchansgirlsblog · 10 months ago

Text

Push and pull.

Warning: Angst

Pairing: skz x 9th member

Summary: The constant pressure of being a girl in a group of boys is crazy but crazier when your looked at like a fragile baby.

!not proofread so forgive me for mistakes!

“Oppa just tell me what’s wrong pleaseee?” She begged, “I also care about you and you need to calm down. This is scaring me,”

"No I want to only talk to the boys, please Y/n?" He said and It stung.

Han had been having a mental breakdown and had been crying for an hour straight. They had just arrived from practice when he decided to brush everyone off and leave to go to his room where Y/n had been begging him to come out of.

"Okay," She softly said and left the room. Was she not going enough for him? Did he not like her? The thoughts run through her head as she laid in bed trying not to cry. The pain of feeling neglected was slowly eating her alive.

She had been begging him to tell her what had happened but he refused. He didn't want to tell her what was going on but once the boys walked in back from their schedules, he wanted to speak to them straight away. Leaving Y/n sad and confused.

She decided to to finish some work as she waited for the boys to finish talking to Han but even then her heart wasn't settled. She wasn't able to concentrate. The guilt was eating her up. It made her feel sick. So she decided to go make herself some tea and that's when she run into Felix in the kitchen making some brownies.

"Hey Felix," she softly smile and greeted him.

"Hey Y/nnie!" He beamed and waved at her then continued to mix the mixture in the bowl. "where you able to get more tape for your knee?"

"yeah i was, Eunwo (their manager) was able to get me some on our way back," she explained while she got a glass of water. "What are you doing?"

"Making brownies for Hannie, he isn't feeling the best," Y/n turned to look at his older brother.

"Can I please know why?" She took the chance to get it out of Felix because she knew Felix wasn't their strongest soldier when it came to keeping secrets from one another.

"No I'm sorry, Han said not to tell you," he looked back at the butter quickly trying to avoid the eye contact.

"But Lix-"

"No I'm not telling you, it's not my secret to tell," he cut her off and continued his work. He felt really bad for leaving her out but he knew himself he couldn't spill anything just yet.

"Okay, fine be a meanie," She softly sighed and got her cup of now iced coffee.

"No don't be like that, Han will tell you when his ready," he pouts walking over to her to her. hoping that someway he could fix the situation.

Everyone knew that Y/n felt left out most of the times because she was the only girl and sometimes the boys had things they couldn’t tell her or share with her but other than that they told her everything and they tried to make her feel apart of the group.

Since felix was the most sensitive and softest out of everyone he felt the need to protect her because felix did feel left out at a point when he couldn’t speak korean fluently and Y/ was the one who would stay up with him trying to help him study. In this case, Y/n was not feeling this 'brotherly' love.

She shrugged his hands off and took a step back trying to get out of his reach. "I'm his bestfriend too, I'm part of this team too but I keep being treated like I'm an outsider," She let out a sigh and wiped the rolling tear. Trying to make sure Felix didn't see her cry.

"No don't cry please," he begged but she simply walked past him but ofcourse felix tried to follow but she stopped him and continued into her room where she locked the door and stayed there for the rest of the evening.

When it was time for dinner she went outside to grab the stuff she had ordered since leeknow wasn't cooking tonight and she sat on the empty dining table. Everyone was still sat in Han's room and there were a few empty cups on the table meaning they had all eaten already.

Felix had left her a plate of brownies for desert and a cup of milk so atleast she knew they still acknowledge her. As she sat there she got bored and saw it was 8pm.

So since she had nothing planed for the evening she decided to get up, put everything away and grab her training stuff to head to the jyp building. It was a short walk anyway and korea was a safe place to be wondeirng at night. The builidng looked quite empty but a few people were locking up and packingup to head home.

She scanned the hallways for an empty room and she finally did find one but was soon interrupted but Jae Beom and his crew. His smile was bright and he was so excited to see her.

"Y/nnie!"

"Oppa!" she squealed. Her sad aura was now replaced with happiness at the sight of her favorite older brothers. She quickly run over and age each of them hugs while saying hello.

"What are you doing here so late? Where are your brothers?" He asked dropping his practice bag and walking back over to her. He pulled her in a hug once again. Although they worked in the same company they barely saw each other due to schedules and stuff.

"Han wasn't feeling well so they are taking care of him and I decided to come practice," She explained. The boys were now all paying close attention to her.

"Ahhh I see! Can we join you?" Mark asks. His hands were in his pockets and they all didnt have makeup on so it meant that they were also here just for free practice.

"Yes sure, I need company anyway," She smiled and headed over to the laptop that was by the speakers. "What should we start with?"

"Can you teach us S-class? Its so hard and we've been trying to learn it," Jackson pouts and raffles her hair,

"Yeah the hand movement is impossible!" Jinyoung chirps in.

She giggled at this because they all reminded her so much of her little brothers back at home when S-class had just come out. "Sure, I can its not that hard," the groans in response made her laugh fill the room so she just played the song and they all run through it as she taught them step by step and by the time they were done, it was 1 in the morning. ONE IN THE MORNING? fuck.

She quickly took out her phone from her bag and looked at it to see thousands of missed calls and (as if in cue) that's when Hyunjin and I.N slammed the door open. they were both panicked and Hyunjins phone was ringing alot while I.N was frantic talking to someone of his phone.

"There you are!" Hyunjin exclaimed panting and huffing. "We've been calling, texting and even fucking tracking your phone, why wouldn’t you tell us your here? This is extremely dangerous Y/n! Oh my God!"

"Y/nnie! do you know how worried we were?! Chan hyung and Leeknow hyung are on some road screaming your name looking for you everywhere," I.N yells at her causing her to jump at the sudden loud voices.

"My phone was off, I was just practicing here-" she tried to explain but was interrupted immediately.

"Okay, it doesn’t matter now, let's go home, we were worried sick, hang on...grab your stuff," he got out his phone and started talking to someone that sounded like Chan. With the way Hyunjin was cringing she knew she was dead meat.

She quickly grabbed my Bags, her laptop and quickly said bye to everyone who were also as terrified as she was but they totally understood and told her to just be safe and to text them. She quickly made her way behind Hyunjin and I.N who were towering over her. Once hyunjin hang up the phone finally, he slowed down so he was walking by her side.

"Never do that again please,"

"But I was just with my friends,"

"You know we don't trust you in a room full men," he softly says ruffling his hands through her hair.

"Yeah I know, I know. I'm in shit, i've accepted it," she groaned but remembered the only reason she was in this mess, "Is Hannie okay now?"

"Yeah he is and he wants to talk to you," She look up at him confused. Her heart jumping.

"What about?" she asked on a confused tone. Hyunjin glances over at I.N who gulps. They both look at eachother as if communicating.

"Felix said that you were upset-"

"I wasn't upset really," She quickly explained.

"Oh well now you can explain that to him anyway but right now those are your least of your worries cause Chan is going to kill you in cold blood," I.N takes of his jacket and hands it to her. she was freezing and she was wearing a tank top but luckily I.N had a hoodie and jacket on.

Ugh. She sighed softly when they arrived to the house. She stopped causing the boys to look at her confused. Her worries and sadness came washing over her. With the way she had fun at the studio with her other brothers she had totally forgotten the depression she was facing at home.

She took a deep breath (quite dramatically) earning a chuckle from both boys and she walked up the stairs into the house where Chan and Leeknow were Ofcourse sitting on the dining table with a coffee mug both. She couldn't even sneak past them which was her only hope in avoiding them. She quickly turned around but was met with Hyunjins chest. sigh.

"Stop, turn around and sit," Chan voice was loud meaning he was serious. she quickly followed his instructions and sat on the chair across both of them.

"What time is it?" He squints his eyes and looks at her.

"1:30 Oppa," she sighed and looked down at her fingers.

"Why would you leave the house without letting us know? What if something had happened and we didn't know-"

"Your always scolding me and not treating me like an adult," she snapped at him. This made Hyunjin stop in his tracks and turned back and I.N paused whatever he was doing to over at them. Never ever did she snap at the boys especially chan because she loved them and they were older than her so she was so respectful. This was a shock and the gasp that left leeknows lips was evidence.

"That's not true I always treat you like an adult," Chan defended himself.

"You don't Oppa! You don't get it, just because I'm 19 doesn't mean I'm a kid, I'm only one year younger than I.N and he gets treated like an adult, everything I do you guys have to be there watching and whenever you guys have conversations I'm pushed to the side. Yes I get I'm a girl and I'm young but it doesn't mean I'm not part of the team, I'm allowed to walk out the house right now if I wanted to, if I wanted a babysitter I would have hired you a long time,"

"Y/n dont raise your voice at hyung like that. Its not right," Leeknows eyes were red. he was pissed off and it was clear.

"Dont talk to me like that Y/n. If you have a problem you tell me, you dont yell. Look at me when im talking to you," She looked up at him. He looked tired, frustrated and mad. He had to first deal with Han...now this?

"fine sorry," she was done. she was done with this conversation, she was done with the boys, she was done with everything. She stood up and stormed out the room. Chan following right behind her

"We're not done here young lady, You think i want this? you think i want to constantly be checking on you? you think i want to be. You keep acting childish thats why i have to keep tabs on you!" with every second he was getting louder and louder.

"Chan dont, lets go calm down-" leeknow grabs his arm trying to keep him away.

"Y/n go to your room," Changbin interferes trying to break the two up.

"See!" she exclaimed and walked into her room shutting it and locking it.

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facioleeknow · 2 months ago

Text

The art of pleasure ch.7

Docility ° Seungmin

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, Smut 18+ ONLY wc:2.1k

Warnings: fraternity skz, experienced seungmin, inexperienced reader, public sex, talk of kinks, spitting, rough sex, pussy slaps, degradation (slightly), name calling, spitting, sort of public nudity, talks of safe word, dom! minnie, titty sucking, squirting

A/N: sorry for the delay guys, I hope you like this ;)

Turns out Felix's reward was pretty simple. After a damn good wipe down, that you both needed, you had found yourself in his bed, dress discarded. Your naked bodies pressed against each other and Felix's plush lips wrapped around your nipple, suckling to his heart's desire. The constant ministrations of his tongue spread a light pleasurable buzz throughout your body, but not strong enough to get you horny again. You were too spent for that, domming for the first time had taken a toll on you but you liked it, you would do it again.

“Hey, I heard the noises stop, are you done?” Christopher bursted through the door, making you jump in place. Felix whined at the movement but a small sweet ‘shh’ from you settled him back into his routine.

“You are unbelievable, Mr Bang,” you whispered with a scoff and motioned for him to stay quiet, you didn't want to disturb Felix after all.

“What? My best friend dommed for the first time and I wanted to know if she enjoyed it or not. Felix seems pretty out of it so I'd say you did a good job,” Chan craned his neck to look at the boy in your arms but you didn't miss his eyes lingering on your bare tits for more than a few seconds.

“Hyung,” Felix whined again, voice muffled.

“It's okay baby, don't worry about him,” you whispered with the sweetest voice you could muster, your lips pressed to his forehead. The sunshine boy sighed against you, his eyelids slowly drooping.

“Best friend? Ouch Chris, you saw me half naked, I thought we had something,” you half joked while you stroked the blonde's hair, the wispy locks tickled your chest.

“We could,” Chris fixed you on the spot with an intense gaze, you could feel your body get hotter and hotter until you had to look away, afraid you might explode. The silence in the room was thick.

“You need to talk to Seungmin, he wanted to clear up some things. I'll put his number in your phone and then leave you to rest.” Without saying anything, you turned your back to him and tried to focus your attention on Felix. His eyes were closed, his mouth still on your nipple and a bit of drool had escaped past his lips and on the curve of your breast. You didn't mind, it was cute. His breath was slow and rhythmic, and not long after your own eyes were starting to close.

When you woke up you were alone in bed, Felix had taken his usual spot at his gaming chair.

“Leaving me alone in bed after the moment we shared? Wow that's cold of you, Felix,” you joked. The chair spun quickly and the boy looked at you with big brown eyes.

“Oh sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to get in a quick match before you woke up.”

“Y/N? I thought it was Miss to you,” you giggled at his face, jaw slacked and cheeks on fire, “ I'm just joking, keep playing baby, don't worry about it.”

Your head hit the pillow again, Felix's bed was insanely comfortable and as much as you wanted to fall asleep again you should've texted Seungmin already.

You:

Hey Seungmin, it's Y/N, Chris said you wanted to talk to me

Seungmin:

That's right, do you want to meet at the library near your dorm tomorrow at 9 pm?

I know it's late but I prefer to do this in a public place but I still don't want any people listening to us

You:

It works for me I'll see you tomorrow <3

Butterflies swarmed your stomach in excitement, you couldn't wait.

The following day, as soon as you stepped foot in the library, you could see him. You hated that particular establishment, it was bleak and cold and the chairs were uncomfortable, but with Seungmin sitting at the table at your right the room looked different; warm and soft and suddenly you wanted to study there all the time. His boyfriend look was no joke.

Seungmin looked up and you hastily moved to greet him, fortunately he didn't seem to have seen you ogling.

“Hey,” he smiled and your heart skipped a beat, his hand briefly squeezed yours, “sit down.”

You had never obeyed a man so fast in your entire life, he seemed to notice that.

“Did hyung tell you what we are going to do?” his voice was still soft but now extremely serious and you were starting to get a bit nervous.

“He only wrote ‘subbing’ on the list.”

“Yes, that's right. I asked you to come here to discuss some things we may try together,” he started looking inside his bag, “I made a list.”

“I have never done anything like this so I don't know how much I can answer.”

“That's okay just tell me if the idea seems nice to you and you want to try, if you don't like it while we do it then you say the safe word and we stop immediately.”

“Okay.”

His smile was reassuring, you had never seen him smile like that but you wouldn't mind seeing it again.

“Okay so what do you want our safe word to be?”

“Puppy,” you didn't even have to think about it, you had heard the guys call him that so many times that it came natural to you.

“Noted. Now I'm gonna list a couple of kinks I want to try and you can decide if you want to try them as well. Just tell me yes or no.”

“Got it.”

“Dirty talk, praise and degradation.”

“Yes.”

“Humiliation.”

“No.”

“Public intercourse.”

“Yes.”

“Slapping and spanking.”

“Yes.”

“Spitting.”

“Yes.”

“Rough intercourse.”

“Yes.”

“Partial public nudity.”

“Yes.”

“Edging.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, that's it, thank you for coming tonight.”

“It's fine,” you could barely talk, all this talking about kinks and sex had formed a damn slip and slide between your legs.

Despite all of your wishes, Seungmin that night, only walked you to your dorm room and pressed a delicate kiss to your cheek with a promise to see you on the weekend. He wanted to take you to a karaoke room he liked and had requested you wear a skirt.

The weekend came way too quickly for your liking, you were ready and you knew that but this was truly something new and you were a bit nervous. Your sweaty palms smoothed down your skirt for the thousandth time. Earlier Seungmin had sent you a text that had made your heart and your vagine beat wildly.

Seungmin:

We're gonna start as soon as I see you, I'm gonna be different than usual, is that alright?

You:

That's okay. Should I call you daddy? Or sir?

Seungmin:

Minnie is fine, leave daddy for Chan hyung.

Wait for me outside if you can :)

Seungmin’s car was gorgeous but he was even more magnificent, you couldn't believe somebody with such an angel face had listen all those nasty kinks.

“Hey, Minnie,” you murmured when you entered the car. He didn't answer, instead his thumb gently caressed your cheek.

“Are you gonna do what I ask like a good girl?” You nodded vigorously, your whole body felt on fire.

“Take your panties off then, and give them to me.”

In a flash, you had scrambled to flip up your skirt and then shove your panties down. Seungmin laughed meanly at your eagerness which made your pussy pulse happily. The boy behind the wheel grabbed the panties and without another word he stuffed them inside his pocket.

The journey to the karaoke room was torturous, your thighs were pressed firmly to get some release but you didn't want to move because Seungmin had not given you permission to do so.

The establishment in itself was beautiful, the owner was kind and escorted you to your room while chatting happily. The private room was spacious and modern, the dimmed and colored lights created a cool ambience.

As soon as your ass was on the soft cushion of the sofa, Seungmin was on you, his big hands digged into the plush of your thighs.

“I'm gonna touch you and I don't wanna hear you make any noise, I wanna sing. Got it?”

“Yes Minnie.”

His fingers came in contact with your pussy roughly, his hand traveled down to your entrance to swipe around your wetness.

“Wet already? Are you a whore?”

“N-no,” keeping your cool while his hand kept busy between your legs was one of the hardest things you had ever done.

“I think you are.” With that he turned around and busied himself with the tablet; when a tune started to play and his angelic voice sounded in the room, you silently sighed, you could at least distract yourself a bit from the pleasure like that.

Your hopes soon crumbled when his fingers passed from caressing and circling all over your pussy to roughly rubbing your clit. The only thing you could hear in the room was him and your eyes were glued on his magnificent figure, he seemed not a bit affected by what was going on between your legs and you soon found out you were into it, even a bit too much. Your legs started trembling, the pleasure started to build up quickly, your clit was extremely sensitive and Seungmin knew exactly what he was doing. Your heavy breath resounded in the whole room but Seungmin seemed to not mind.

When your hips started bucking into his hand and your back arched off the couch, he pulled his hand away, he clearly did not want you to cum so quickly.

He played a second song and the onslaught on your poor sensitive and swollen clit began again. But just how it began it ended, like before.

Seungmin kept teasing you and stimulating you for two more songs, at the fifth, you were gone with pleasure and ready to cry if you didn't cum any second. Your body felt heavy and boneless, his fingers felt too good. But you stayed quiet, you had to stay quiet, you wanted to be a good girl for him. Your date had other plans, you had behaved way too well for his liking. Just when the song was nearing his finish and your orgasm was approaching, Seungmin's fingers roughly pinched your little bundle of nerves.

“Minnie,” you squeaked, with wide eyes. His hand lifted and then roughly came back down. Slap. It stinged but the pain felt so good you could've cum from that alone.

“I told you to stay quiet,” he scoffed, the tablet flew to the other side of the couch and he roughly grabbed your wrist.

“On your knees.”

Your poor wobbly knees hit the ground hard, but you hastily moved to be in front of him.

“Open your mouth.” Seungmin's right hand enveloped your jaw and squeezed effectively squishing your cheeks and forcing you to open up.

“Swallow and then show me.” A thick wad of spit fell into your mouth after that and you moaned, you wanted more but you still closed your mouth and swallowed. When you open up again, Seungmin wasted no time in turning you around and pushing your head down on the coffee table in front of you so your pussy was glued to his crotch. The sound of his belt unbuckling, made your squirm on top of the cool glass. You wanted to see him.

“You better not move or I'll edge you for a week.” Your skirt got quickly flipped up and you felt his head push against your entrance.

Your lover sheathed himself fully inside you and another song started to play, a love song. Fitting. Without giving you time to adjust he started a brutal pace, not even Han had pounded you this hard. The sound of your skin slapping and the squelch in your pussy resounded in the room, along with your desperate moans and pleas and your date's delicate grunts.

Seungmin's hand circled your hips and pressed against your clit. He resumed his brutal rubbing from before, your orgasm was approaching dangerously quickly.

“You need to cum, I won't be able to last. This pussy is so slutty, it's sucking me in,” he paired his words with sharp, decise thrusts and you felt the coil in your belly snap. Clear liquid shot out of you and doused Seungmin's crotch. You had never cummed that hard in your entire life.

Seungmin quickly pulled out of you and stripped his cock above your ass, thick white ropes of cum cascaded on your hot skin in intricate patterns.

The music had stopped, the only thing heard in the room were both of your heavy breaths.

“I've never made anybody squirt, if I take you out on another date, would you let me do it again?”

@kflixnet

#straykidsland #kpop #reader insert #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #felix #felix x reader #bang chan #bang chan x reader

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