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blackynsupremacy · 2 months ago

Text

HIS LITTLE

BOOKWORM

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: it’s the year 1991. top man on campus and college senior, nicholas chavez, is finding it difficult to stay on task to study for midterms. how else could he concentrate when his growing infatuation of the newest librarian keeps getting worse?

guest starring: michael evans behling as calvin and rudy pankow as chad.

a/n: my first official smut fic, so please be kind! reblogs are highly appreciated. if you like it, should i do a part two?

contains: 18+ content mdni, lots of words, 90s au, 15 year age gap (nicholas is 22 and reader is 37) reader is divorced, swearing, mention of cheating, alcohol consumption, partying, wet dreams, sensual fantasy, sexual tension, flirting, making out, groping, fingering, oral (f! receiving), squirting, public sex (but no one can see it), masturbation, morally gray nicholas, nicholas is obsessed with reader, nicholas is a pervert, but also respects reader.

taglist: @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @thabiddie23 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @greengoblinswifey @hnch33rios @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @ellethespaceunicorn @rosiestalez @sabrinasopposite @camiesully @tryingtograspctrl @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @sheydnni

nicholas chavez was used to strutting the emerald pathways of the university he attended with such an air of confidence, but this time was different. this time was fucked. it was now an air of utter frustration and instead of strutting, he was trudging down the sidewalk hard enough that creases could be forming on his new, pristine adidas sneakers. he didn’t really give a fuck though. he just needed to get to this library, meet his friend, calvin, and cram the best way he could for a good hour or two. after three years of working his ass off to maintain his full-ride, he thought it was a great idea for him to let loose more often and kick back with his friends this time around. one could diagnose nicholas with the classic case of “senioritis”, but he’d call it giving a guy a break. when it came to the topic of college parties, his parents would advise him not to overdo it, but nichloas was a grown ass man now, so he can make his grown ass decisions with some grown ass control. that’s if answering every single page from calvin that signaled an event containing available booze, joints, and pussy within a few miles was control—or, perhaps consuming so much alcohol the night before a lecture where nicholas would be rushing out of his apartment with a piercing headache that grew stronger due to the burning light of the sun as he tries to make it on time was control. it was all catching up to him now as midterms were looming in and no matter how much the cares of the world lifted off his shoulders while doing body shots off the spray tanned abdomen of a pam anderson wannabe, he knew he couldn’t fuck those up.

a deep sigh of relief escapes from his chest after he finally approaches the classic, colossal structure of the academic building. nicholas steps forward and pulls the handle of the door for him to be granted access. the interior had a hardwood floor as the walls were plastered with various portraits of the college’s most notable along with some inspirational quotes from authors and historical figures. the bookshelves were arranged against the walls that held endless rows of texts that varied in every researchable area that could fit the need of each student. it wasn’t swamped, but there was a good twenty-five people who also had the same idea as nicholas. his brown eyes dart from table to table until they land on the familiar face of calvin and another mutual friend they’ve occasionally partied with named, chad. making haste, nicholas approached the table.

“it’s about time your ass showed, chavez.” calvin quipped, leaning back in the wooden chair as he twiddled a pencil between his fingers. he then leaned forward to catch nick’s hand in a casual dap, with chad following suit. nicholas sat his black jansport backpack in the empty chair beside him and proceeded to take the necessary books out after sitting down.

“cal, don’t be a dick. i’m here aren’t i?” nicholas retorts with a roll of his eyes, opening the textbook to the correct page. chad picked up on the tone of annoyance.

“woah, who pissed on your parade? sounds like someone didn’t get any sleep last night. haha—ow!” chad’s snickers were cut off with nick’s foot thrashing against his shin.

“the fuck was that for!” chad whispered as he hissed while rubbing the painful area of his leg. calvin placed a hand over his mouth to muffle his hysterical laughter while nicholas was too busy reviewing material and jotting down important notes to even care,

“just for being you, chad.” nicholas dryly replied not taking his eyes off the page. exhausted from laughter, calvin took a breath and tried to ease the tension.

“in his defense, you did go overboard with those shots last night, man. there was also the keg, and the beer pong tournament—”

“say another word or i’ll kick your balls right under this goddamn table, calvin.” nicholas calmly fired, still not looking up from the page. calvin knew nick was pissed at the use of his full name. he chuckled one last time waving the white flag to resume to his book and their table was filled with silence again. nicholas was really paying for his sins now. his hand was starting to cramp at all of the notes he was writing, he felt the fatigue was about to set in when his lids start to droop down. shit, he can’t crash now. nicholas peered at the clock ticking on the wall, even that sound at such a low volume was making this hangover worse. he groaned and plopped his head down on the table, massaging his temple in agony when he heard a voice that didn’t belong to calvin nor chad. it was of a female, but not like the typical ones that they’d mess around with. the voice was soft, but carried a weight of genuine sincerity.

“i hate to be a bother, but are you boys alright over here?”

who the hell could it be to pester him now? when nicholas lifted his head from the table to give this broad a piece of his mind for her impromptu disturbance, his hardened brown gaze immediately softened to one of captivation when he saw—you. you stood at the head of the table holding a bottle of water in your hand. you were wearing a pristine long-sleeved white button up blouse that was slightly unbuttoned by the top to at least expose the brown skin of your neck. a black velvet pencil skirt hugged around your hips perfectly as it fell right above your knees and your dark natural hair was put up in a french roll bun with a couple of loose curls falling in front of your face. there was no doubt in nicholas’ mind that you were definitely older, but damn. you looked stunning for whatever age you may be. speaking of your face, nicholas found himself to be transfixed by your smooth brown skin. you had warm coffee eyes, your lashes fluttered beneath your black rectangular glasses, and your lined full lips were painted with clear gloss. he was so deep in his observation of your—everything, nicholas didn’t notice how tongue tied he was and that calvin had to be the one to speak on his behalf,

“uh-um, yeah! he’s just a little y’know—” he stammered.

“hungover?” you whisper, finishing his sentence as you leaned in closer to nicholas to further inspect his condition. while reading at your desk, you caught a glimpse of the three young men at the table a few feet from you. they did the usual banter of ripping into each other before resuming their studies until you noticed that the brunette suddenly plopped his face down to the table. you knew it all too well and you had the proper solution, so you made your way over to check in and possibly be of assistance.

“uh, yeah. i guess you could say that.” calvin responded surprised by your straightforwardness.

“mm-hm. i understand! i actually got a table filled with water, coffee, and snacks in that room over there in the corner for midterms week.” you pause and point in the direction of the room in which he and chad peer over. “i get how stressful this time could be, so please help yourselves to whatever you’d like. maybe your friend could use some water.”

calvin and chad’s eyes glimmered at the mention of free food while nicholas still sat there looking like a hypnotized fool that hasn’t uttered a word since your arrival. he’s never frozen like this in the presence of any woman before and here you were, chatting it up with his sleazy ass friends. chad sung his praises as he was already starving,

“gee, thanks! that’s really dope of you ms.—”

“just y/n is fine. i’m actually the new head librarian for the university! i’ve started about two weeks ago.” you mentioned gesturing to the general area that was filled with roaming students. “and you’re very welcome, hun! this is all just a way to make sure students have what they need to be successful.”

“well, can i just say that it was definitely a pleasure to meet you? maybe i need to come here more often.” calvin flashed his signature charming grin, his eyes briefly raking your figure. a tad awkward under his gaze, you knew it was time to get back to work. you give a court nod towards the trio,

“well—it was great to meet you! enjoy the snacks and good luck on your exams.”

the temperature of nicholas’ face rises as his cheeks glow with the shade of a faded rose when he sees your lips form into a smile at calvin’s compliment. this strange emotion he was feeling grew more intense when you gently placed your palm on nicholas’ shoulder. the water bottle that was in your other hand was now placed beside of his textbook. he could’ve sworn that the closer you leaned into him, he could surely peek down into your shirt to see your breasts. a smile of reassurance graces your face and you considerably speak in a low volume,

“if you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask, dear. i hope this helps. god knows, it’s helped me!” you joke, sending him a wink and bade the group to continue with their work before going off to do some organizing of inventory. the trio’s eyes are pulled into the subtle sway of your hips, heads were tilted to get a proper view of the outline of your ass when you saunter in the opposite direction, your sleek black heels accentuate the calf muscles of your smooth, brown legs. as soon as you disappear from their view, chad and calvin let out a low whistle, giving each other some daps.

“man, let me tell you something. it’s like living in a porno, she’s the hottest librarian i’ve ever seen!” calvin commented, his fingers stroking his groomed facial hair as he bit his lip at the thought of you. chad leaned back in his chair with his hands ruffling in his dirty blonde hair to stop them from going down in his jeans.

“you said it, dude. i don’t give a fuck how old she is, i’d knock the absolute dust off that pu—”

“would you guys stop?”

at their words, nicholas had finally came back to reality. they were absolutely right. you were fine as fuck. utterly fuckable by any means necessary, but there was something else about you that was more than making nicholas’ dick twitch. you didn’t know him from a can of paint and here you were like an angel, providing him with a solution after seeing him on the brink of passing out while his “friends” just sat there and shrugged it off as another hangover. it was, but nicholas wasn’t usually at the top of his game and it would only get worse if he didn’t get his shit together. it was just a simple gesture, but your concerned gaze paired with an understanding smile made him feel—warm. yet, he’d still want to bend you over one of these tables and hike up that skirt to see what you were working with of course. he’d never tell those goons at his table that though. it didn’t help that nicholas was getting pissed that they were talking about you like were one of those skanks at the parties they attended on campus. you just gave them a warm welcome and this is how they repay you? he had to put a stop to this.

“god, you guys are pigs. that’s probably somebody’s wife—or mom.” nicholas aggressively chided, his harsh gaze had returned. the guys send nicholas an appalled stare of confusion. their brows quirk at this new defensive attitude, nicholas was usually a bit cranky during a hangover, but now it looked like as if they were going to get their asses kicked because of casual dirty talk that they always engaged in.

“the hell is your problem, man? i got a good look at her and i sure as shit didn’t see a ring. plus, we were just complimenting the broad. don’t get so pissy.” chad protested leaning forward to his original position.

“yeah, she’s hot. weren’t you checking her out too? you were like a deer in headlights. you couldn’t even fucking talk to her, man.” calvin stated and gestured to the water that still sat untouched in front of nicholas, “don’t forget to sober up when you actually talk to your new girlfriend.” nicholas silently responded with his middle finger to the air. with a peeved chuckle, calvin tapped chad on the shoulder for them to take a break from the conversation and get a snack from the table in the room you’ve mentioned earlier.

when finally alone, nicholas’ eyes darted around the building in an attempt to seek you out, just to thank you for the water obviously. it was the least he could do after demonstrating such an embarrassing first impression. he couldn’t find you while sitting, so he took a few gulps of water and stood from his chair with a new wave of energy surging through his body. he wasn’t a hundred percent himself, but he was definitely better than he was ten minutes earlier. you could be anywhere in here, but nicholas was willing to take a chance to see you again when he conducted his search. it takes a few minutes as he travels shelf by shelf until he pauses to find you between two bookshelves, you were a couple feet away from him as you were squatting down sorting through the titles. nicholas stealthily leaned against the shelf, his eyes catching the skirt hike further up your closed knees the more you moved. god, how he wanted to see what was underneath. you had a concentrated furrowed gaze as you meticulously read the print, your finger pushed your glasses up on the bridge of your nose whenever you felt them slide down.

it amazed nicholas that you were still oblivious to his presence for the past three minutes. he could tell that you were into the literature you were organizing, his mind wandered to what type of books you’ve read. would you be into non-fiction, like history and science? classic literature? perhaps, greek tragedy? romance? he’d figure chicks of any age liked that kind of mushy shit. he inspected your hands, notably the left that had a bare ring finger. chad was correct, you weren’t tied down at all. before his internal interrogation of you could continue, it was all broken when he heard your voice.

“oh, hello there, again!” you enthusiastically greet, your voice soft and inviting. “is there anything i can help you with?” you inquired, halting your task. you dust your hands and stand up right to smooth down your skirt. he stopped leaning when you stepped closer. he didn’t want to seem so informal. with his hands buried in his pockets, he managed to get a word out without trying to sound like a bumbling idiot,

“uh, no, ma’am. i just—wanted to thank you for the water. it actually really helped ‘cause i wasn’t feeling too hot back there. it was cool for you to do that, so thanks.” nicholas spoke with a nervous, yet amicable tone. he tries not to blush under your benevolent gaze before he continues,

“i know i was zoned out, but you said your name was y/n, right? well, i’m nicholas. nicholas chavez. it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he held out his hand for yours to grasp, it was a tad smaller compared to his. as your earth toned fingers wrapped around his palm, his mind began to wander how they would look sunken deep within your—

“ah, yes, nicholas! i believe i’ve heard of you at my first staff meeting not too long ago. you hold an outstanding record here at the college. from what i’ve heard, you’re an exemplary student that’s on his way to a bright future. that’s surely impressive.”

holy shit, it was like every interaction with you caused a switch between his dick and his heart. it was terrifyingly exhilarating. you’d just saw him in the most embarrassing moment and yet, you didn’t scold nor judge him like any other uppity professor. you were impressed. with a humble demeanor, he thanked you for your praises even though a rush of arousal was bubbling from the inside. alas, nicholas needed to focus on getting these midterms out of the way before he starts to loose that grown-ass control he claimed he had. he couldn’t fuck up knowing that he was held to such a high standard, even higher now that you were in the know. he didn’t want to, but he had to go back to work.

“i appreciate it! um, i apologize if i put you off by not saying anything earlier. it’s so embarrassing—”

you shook your head, putting a hand up to wave it, indicating to him that it was the least of your worries.

“i’ve been there, done that. college isn’t easy and you want to make the most of it before it’s over. you’re a senior, right?” you pause, awaiting an answer, in which he nods. “then you’re okay! as long as you’re properly balancing between work and play, i think you’ll be fine.”

“all work and no play makes nick a dull boy.” he quotes, with a smirk spreading across his face. you can’t help, but to chuckle in agreement at his charm. this definitely wasn’t the groggy young man you encountered at that table. it was refreshing to see him get a sense of his spirit back.

“quoting howell. i see you don’t play about hitting those books.” you pause and look back at the unfinished task behind you before shifting your attention back to nicholas, who never took his eyes off you for a second, “speaking of, i suggest i’d better get back to work. i don’t want to keep you from studying and your friends. as i said, if you need anything, you know where to find me!”

with a nod and a wave of goodbye, you go your separate ways, but with each passing day, you’d find each other in every corner of your lives. after class, nicholas would find himself in the library more often not only for a quieter place to study, but to see what you were up to. you were obviously working, but he loved to see you in your element. nicholas doesn’t know why he came in to study for another midterm after class because he was bound to get distracted by you again. while you were reading on your break, you indulged in a cherry lollipop. nicholas attentively watched from his table as you let the sugared delicacy swirl around in your mouth, humming a whitney houston tune before you pop it out and twirl it between your fingers. it made nicholas go crazy seeing the subtle shine from your saliva on the candy. he could only imagine what your lips would feel like on any part of his skin, specifically on his own lips or where he would want you the most. when he didn’t come in to study, he’d ease his way in under the guise of volunteering to help you around the place. when he offered, you were overjoyed because let’s face it, this job was a lot to handle, so there was no harm in having someone as strapping as him do the heavy lifting. he did more than that. almost everyday, he’d come in to help you organize inventory, tidy up shelves, and help students find books. while doing so, he’d make small talk in effort to get to know you. he’d inquire about where you were from, what college you went to, your interests, and your pet peeves. then his questions would start to get personal. you two sorting were through books late one night when it began,

“y/n, i have a question for you. please, don’t think me rude, though.” he asked, breaking the silence.

“go for it, nicholas.” you shrug, looking over a title.

“um, okay. how do i ask this—you don’t have to answer, but how old are you?”

you stop and peer over your glasses at nicholas, giving him a pointed look. he stood casually with his arms crossed.

“y’know it’s impolite to ask a woman her age, right?” at that response, he threw his hands up in surrender.

“i know. m’sorry it’s just— you don’t seem so stuck up like the other staff here. you’re so chill and welcoming compared to them.” he stopped to see you still had the same neutral expression. “y’know what forget it. i shouldn’t have—” he rambles before you cut him off.

“i’m thirty-seven.” you state loud enough for only both of you to hear, fully turning your body to his.

“really?” he questioned tilting his head.

“yes, i am. you seemed surprised.”

“respectfully, you could’ve fooled me—i never would’ve guessed that.”

“i appreciate the flattery, nicholas, but in the past, i would’ve been old enough to be your babysitter.” you chuckle and turn away from him again. you didn’t see his eyes move down to your ass then back up at your head, but his response had you internally floored,

“heh, yeah. my hot babysitter.”

your felt the familiar heat rush through your body. from that point on, nicholas had only gotten bolder. he was even kind enough to go on a coffee run for you when he noticed you were running on empty one day.

“oh, nicholas, you’re a godsend! thank you so much. for this, i should give you the rest of the day off.” you say taking the cup with a smile of gratitude. nicholas felt that same rush as your fingers brushed against his while passing the cup.

“of course! anything for you.” he replied, meaning every single word. “i always found it polite to help women in need.” he paused, not taking his intense gaze away from you murmuring, “especially the beautiful ones.” before you could respond to that comment, he was already off helping a couple of freshman find what they need. maybe nicholas was just being polite, so you didn’t dwell on it that much. just like you didn’t dwell on when you were trying to reach for a book and his tall figure suddenly loomed over yours. he was so close that if you’d step back one centimeter, your back would collide with his chest. your eyes spectated as his muscular arm reached for the exact title you were grabbing for and he deliberately brought it down in front of you to take.

“is this what you’re looking for?” he whispered, your heart raced as a pool of arousal started to form between your legs. you swallow, getting your thoughts together,

“yes, that’s the one. thank you, nicholas.”

“your pleasure’s all mine.”

“excuse me?” you inquired, making sure you weren’t hearing things.

“i said the pleasure’s all mine.” he left again with a smirk playing on his face as you stood there flabbergasted and flustered as all get out.

nicholas wouldn’t just see you around in the library though, on the week after midterms, he was walking with calvin to the campus gym for a workout, but then stopped when he heard what sounded like your voice. nicholas could hear your laughter in the distance.

who the fuck could that be making you laugh so hard?

“hey, i’ll catch up with you in a bit, cal, ‘needa check on something.” nicholas tapped a confused calvin’s arm, indicating to go on before he jogged into that direction. he found you at the college’s main café, sitting at an outside table conversing with who seemed to be one of nicholas’ professors, dr. bradley emerson. nicholas respected him as an educator because he saw him as a mentor who pushed him to his full potential, but now that respect turned to disgust as he watched the man gaze at you with such enthrallment and scooted in closer proximity as if he didn’t have a wife with twins at home. what a fucking bastard. oh, but who could blame him? it didn’t help that you looked breathtakingly beautiful today. nicholas thought you always did, but you looked different. your body was adorned with a long sleeved, chartreuse green collared polo paired with a dark brown pencil skirt and matching platform heels. instead of your usual french roll bun, your natural hair flowed down in the bounciest of curls. he was a goner when you flashed your award winning smile then proceeded to remove your glasses to reveal your heavenly aged face. that’s it. nicholas had to make the decision of approaching you the best way he could before staking his claim on you. he had to get you alone. he needed you all to himself. no fucking wandering eyes from his stupid ass friends nor his perving professors, just him.

this burning desire he had for you was starting to get the best of him at home. after his workout with calvin, nicholas sped back to his apartment to shower. you were back on his mind again, so he needed privacy. he wastes no time to enter into his abode and discard of his sweaty clothes before escaping into the steamy mist of his shower. as the water cascaded down his body, he closed his eyes. nothing, but your face invaded his thoughts. he wandered back to how you always read in your free time, he could imagine you reading a filthy erotica. with each word you read, you’d grow more needy as you let your thighs spread. nicholas grabbed ahold of his hardened dick, his palm stroking back and forth with the vision of your hand sliding down your nude body. he groaned at the thought of your fingers fondling and squeezing the smooth, melanated mounds of your breasts. your fingers would be pinching at your sensitive hershey kiss nipples. the strokes of his hand gain in speed while envisioning your hand finally going down to where he always wanted to be: the sweet, slick tunnel of your pussy. nicholas’ thumb circles around his swollen, pink tip as you’d start by caressing your clit in deliberation with light pressure the more you read. one finger would easily slip in, moving in and out effortlessly causing you to whimper. his hand grips harder on the shaft, hoping it would be his name. nicholas knew that one of your fingers wouldn’t be enough. hell, not even two nor three. you needed more. you deserved more. you deserved him.

right when you would become undone, nicholas convulsed and placed his free hand against the wall as he came within his palm. he could vividly see you ride out your high, the book would fall straight out of your hand with a hard thud to the floor as you try to regain consciousness from the overwhelming pleasure. nicholas caught his steady pattern of breathing and quickly, but thoroughly washed himself clean. he couldn’t wait anymore. he needed to feel you. he had to see that vision come to fruition. tonight.

it was now nine p.m., two hours before your shift came to an end. within the last couple of hours, nicholas had devised the perfect plan to sweep in and seduce you. after a clean shower, he brushed his teeth and spritzed his skin with the calvin klein obsession cologne he’d been saving up for. he wore a tight fitted white tank under a navy blue flannel with light washed blue jeans, and his new adidas. he didn’t forget top it off with his golden cross chain. he managed for his brown hair to naturally fall against his head, but he wasn’t worried about it too much because he wanted you to mess it up tonight. with one last glance at the clock, he retrieved his keys and made his way the place where he could always find you.

when nicholas entered the library, it was basically empty. the silence was filled with the familiar click of your heels and his feet didn’t fail into leading him exactly to where you were. he saw you as his little bookworm. there you sat reading in the hidden corner against a bookshelf, your heels off of your feet with your bare legs straight out crossed over the floor. yet again, he found your obliviousness endearing as you didn’t hear him approach and sit next to you until the intoxicating smell of obsession filled your nostrils. you looked over to see nicholas sitting at your side with his legs up to his chest, his elbows rested on top of his knees with his hands hanging loose. you jolted a bit and a sigh of relief escaped your lips at the sight of him,

“oh! nicholas, it’s just you. i’m surprised you’re here on a friday night.” you comment, removing your glasses to rub any sleep out of your eye. “so what brings you by? i know it’s definitely not academics.” you tiredly giggle. it’s been a long day for you and you just wanted some alone time reading your new favorite romance novel. this book in particular had a bit of—spice to it. just as you were getting to the part of the female lead receiving oral from her lover, that rush ran down between your legs.

you couldn’t say that you weren’t in a period of longing since your divorce. one thing you didn’t miss about your ex was his inability to go down south when you wanted him to. the erotic passage was getting good until nicholas popped in. you weren’t exactly mad at his arrival, but the thought of him finding out that you, a woman of your age, was reading this at her job would be humiliating to say the least.

“i guess you could say that i’m full of surprises.” nicholas replied. he paused, taking a hand through his hair before fixing his eyes onto your face, then to the novel in your hand. “i just wanted to see how my favorite bookworm was doing—whatcha’ got there?” his finger pointed to the book. you hastily placed your bookmark in the page before closing it and setting it atop your lap.

“oh, it’s just a silly little romance novel. it’s cheesy, really.” you respond dismissively, not missing the smirk play upon nicholas’ lips.

“cheesy, eh? when i came in, it looked to me that you couldn’t take your eyes off the page. you were so—invested. was i interrupting something?” he inquired, scooting in a little closer to get a proper glimpse of the cover. god, his cologne was damn near intoxicating.

“n-no, no! of course not. i’m always glad to have you around, nicholas.” you reassured to ease the tension.

“oh, really? thanks. the feeling’s mutual.” he nonchalantly confessed, his voice soft as he placed his hand on the novel which was the only barrier between him and your skin.

you couldn’t help, but to feel that tingle rise at the mention of the nickname he gave you. his favorite bookworm. so many lines had been crossed with nicholas and you had to resist the temptation before you could lose this job, but there was something about him that made you feel a youthful thrill. it was something new, something fresh. you weren’t a dummy: nicholas chavez was obviously attracted to you. the signs were all there. the flirtatious comments, the close proximity, his lingering gaze on areas such as your lips, chest, and ass. this young man could have any other girl his age wrapped around his finger, but he’s intentionally pursuing you, someone fifteen years his senior. you’d be a liar if you denied your attraction for him. he was tall, muscular, polite, intelligent, witty, and boyishly handsome. sigh, if it only nicholas were like this in ‘seventy-six, you’d bag him instead of your shitty excuse of an ex–husband. what’s also ironic, was that he cheated on you with someone a decade younger. thinking about his infidelity had you hotter than a firecracker, but then again, with the way that nicholas was looking at you like a predator about to pounce, maybe this was fate’s way of finally getting your payback.

fuck it.

whatever game nicholas intended to play with you tonight, —you were all for it.

“mind if i take a look at what was so important?” nicholas asked, his hand still on the book in your lap. now, it was your turn to smirk.

“from one avid reader to another, be my guest.” you slyly retort, sliding the book into his large hands. he deeply chuckles when he turns to the page you’ve marked, right at the beginning of the passionate exchange between the main characters. you watch his dark brow arch as his brown eyes skim through each paragraph by the second. you notice the bob of his adam’s apple and the hum vibrating in his chest momentarily before he closes the book and sets it down by his side. he huffs out a breath with a whistle.

“i guess i was interrupting something.” he quips, turning his intense gaze back to your heated profile, scooting closer than before. “i never pinned you for reading something so—raunchy.”

“mm-hm. that’s my secret, and you also got to read it before i did.” you pause. your eyes maintaining contact, trapping your pouty lip between your teeth. “it’s a shame i couldn’t experience that chapter privately.”

nicholas leaned in to the point that your noses were almost touching.

“i’m sorry i spoiled it for you.” his gaze shifts between your eyes and awaiting lips. “how about i make it up by giving you that experience?”

you didn’t say another word, your fingers delicately caress the tanned skin of his sculpted jaw before you finally close the gap between your lips. nicholas wastes no time in fervently returning the kiss. one large hand slides up to your grasp onto your neck to pull you closer. you whimpered out at the contact, resulting in nicholas to slide his tongue against yours. as they engaged in a dance, your hands found themselves messing through his chocolate tresses as his hands took a grip of your waist to effortlessly place you on his lap. he bucked his hips up towards your own, so that you could get a feel of his own arousal. you both groaned out due to the burning sensation before he pulled away from your lips to attack your neck as his hands descend to reward your ass with a tight squeeze.

“mmph, nicholas. please, i—i need you!”

your wish was his command. still with a firm grip on your ass, he gingerly places you down on your spine. nicholas’ eyes observed as your curls were sprawled on the floor with your bare half-lidded eyes glued to his face in desire. your now swollen, glossed lips were agape as you laid there with your legs spread wide awaiting for his next move. he could just cum at the sight alone. as much as he wanted to go all the way with you, he acknowledged that for the first of hopefully many times, you deserved better than being fucked on a floor, but he was going to fulfill his promise after spoiling your reading.

“as much as i want to, i won’t fuck you because that’s not what was in the book, baby.” nicholas halted his speech and slid his hands to hike up your skirt to reveal your baby blue lace underwear that had a damp spot right in the middle. he was drunk with the scent of your arousal. “god, you’re soaked—i promise m’gonna make you feel good.” his palms caressed circles on your inner thighs. you whined, the pulsing ache within your pussy grew stronger the longer you didn’t feel his touch.

“i know, baby, i know, but whining won’t get you what you want. you gotta use your words. you want this?”

such a goddamn tease this man was, but it was so exhilarating seeing him in control like this.

“yes! yes, nicholas. fuck, i don’t want this. i need this. i need you—ngh!” before you knew it, your panties had been ripped away. nicholas’ middle and index fingers work in tandem, curling at your tight, cushiony walls while his thumb made circles around your clit. nicholas was giving you the business like no other. you were a moaning mess and you were so glad no one came in at this time because it would’ve been a disaster, but that was the least of your worries when his fingers conducted a scissoring motion.

“you’re so tight. how’s that, baby? am i doing it just like the book or do i really need to make it up to you?” he questions over the soft sounds of squelching in the background, you struggle to speak as your hips start to buck up against his fingers.

“n-need y-your tongue. p-please, nicholas!”

he slowly slid his fingers out of you, his free hand holds your head in place to watch him suck your arousal clean off. he hummed in satisfaction once he popped them from his mouth.

“fuck, you’re so right. i need to taste you. right fucking now.” he lowered his head between your legs, propping each one over his shoulders. you throw your head back as his tongue laid flat against your clit in a long lick to savor the taste of your slick before his tongue moves like clockwork. your heels dig deeper within his broad shoulder blades while his tongue practically fucks you into an oblivion. if only your ex could see you now: getting it on with someone who was younger, hotter, and more appreciative of your presence. a wide toothy smile of satisfaction is etched on your face while your fingers grip onto his hair.

“mm, nick, baby. just like that…hah. such a good boy.”

that praise alone made him more relentless. nicholas’ hands pressed onto your thighs to spread them wider as he began to enclose his lips around the sensitive nub before his skilled tongue dragged around the area. he was giving it extra attention, so you could achieve the best fucking orgasm of your life. he was going to guarantee you weren’t going to runaway from it either, so he pressed your hips flat to the ground. with every suck, lick, and nibble he was giving, the hot ball of fiery pleasure within your abdomen began to expand. it was starting to be too much to handle because you can’t remember having it this good. your eyes peer down to see the dark, mischievous glint of nicholas’ eyes staring straight into yours.

“nicholas, hah. m’gonna cum…” you murmur, gently pushing his hair back.

with a quirk of his brow he raised his mouth briefly from your pussy,

“give me all you got, sweetheart.”

nicholas rasped, he then achieves the goal by digging his tongue inside while his thumb made rapid movements on your swollen clit. within seconds, that lethal combination is what forces your legs to tremble as you finally erupt into your high, which literally gushes right onto nicholas’ face. you speech is slurred, mixed with swears, praises, and his name. his movements never slow down as he’s trying to catch every single drop of you. the experience was so intense, that you dazed out while catching your breath. as if it were like c.p.r., he comes out from between your legs, holds you from the small of your back, and raises you upright to bring your lips together for another passionate kiss. his tongue brushes against yours, so that you could have what he’s been tasting. it was—sweet. sweet like the victory of getting your payback. he pulls away and your moment of internal gloating ceased when you heard nicholas’ voice.

“fuck, babe. look.”

“hm?” you questioned.

you match his gaze down to the hardwood floor to see a small puddle of what was obviously from your arousal. nicholas let out a chuckle of satisfaction.

“my little bookworm’s a squirter—hot.”

the heat of embarrassment rose on your face. you knew you felt the sensation of squirting, but damn it. now you had a mess to clean before continuing your weekend. still, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

you got your groove back.

#black reader #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez x black reader #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez x female reader #black!reader #90s au #x black!reader #x black reader #actor x black reader #actor x reader #black girl #bwwmromance

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 4 months ago

Text

cat got your tongue - Cole Caufield

Word Count - 3k

Requested - Yes a mutual dared me weeks ago to write a entire fic only about Cole Caufield's tongue.

Author's Note - thank you as always for reading. 💞🫶🏻 This literally took me forever to write because writers block is very real even when you love an idea, also I got this request back in the middle of July before anyone wants to come into my asks. I'm not sure if I like this ending, but that might just be me being my biggest critic.

Warnings - oral receiving but I think that's kind of obvious given the title of this fic. 🤣

Summary - Cole finally convinces you to come to one of his games, but what happens when all you can focus on is the way he sticks his tongue out during a celly.

Tonight was the first time that Cole has finally convinced you to come to one of his games. To be fair you did just meet the guy a month ago in a bar. Unlike Cole, you did not know everything when it came to hockey which could have been one of the reasons that you weren’t pressed on going as soon as Cole brought up the idea. But his constant insisting that turned into begging which was kind of hot finally got you here. In the back of a shared Uber with your friend who actually knows hockey and said she would tag along to explain what the fuck everyone is doing on the ice. At the end of the day trying to learn all the rules of a sport you never even watched was hard.

Just to mess with Cole a little, you did purchase one of his jerseys which granted a lot of money. But your friend who came along with you to the game, insisted to “do it for the plot.” So here you both are, you in his jersey, entering the arena. Due to the amount of time it took to get through security, you weren’t able to be in your seat until after warm ups had already started. Your seat was center ice but a few rows back purely because you told Cole if he thought your ass was sitting front row at your first ever NHL game, you would simply walk out because you didn’t wanna accidentally end up caught on TV looking like someone who had no idea what was happening around her.

As soon as Cole saw you, he skated over to the bench although you couldn’t see what he was doing talking to one of the trainers you assumed. He then skated over and started bouncing what looked like the nearest puck on his stick as many times as he could and then passing it over the glass. A fan tried to take it, but he shook his head no and pointed at you. Then he threw another one over for the little boy who was a couple seats down from you, before skating off continuing on with warmups.

“Why was that kind of hot?” you whispered to your friend.

“Wow who knew a basic white boy would have you down this bad?” she teased.

“Bitch shut up.” you said before you finally looked down at the puck. Cole must have asked the trainer for a marker and signed the puck before coming over.

You look hot with my name on you. Meet me in the tunnels after the game.

Deciding not to tell your friend about the message you look up to see Cole sitting on the bench now making direct eye contact with you as he watches you read his message. Nodding your head yes and mouthing ‘okay’, even from the other side of the arena the smile that spreads across his face is seen clearly from your seat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cole was literally playing like his life depended on it tonight. Now granted you might not understand all the little detailed rules when it comes to hockey. But you knew an assist was a good thing, in period one alone Cole had 2 assists and something about the way that he got one knee skating for a celly with his tongue slightly sticking out. Something that is so simple, made you feel your stomach drop, getting more and more turned the second time he did it.

During intermission, you and your friend went to the bathroom and maybe it was the 3 beers you consumed but somehow you both started joking around about what your friend calls “your new fetish Cole’s tongue.” Jokingly you stuck your tongue out ever so slightly. Not realizing in that millisecond your friend took a mirror selfie, your side to the mirror the famous ‘22’ on display with Caulfeild, sticking your tongue out ever so slightly with your butt teasingly pushed up. Honestly, you kind of looked hot in the picture and made a mental note to ask your friend to send the picture to you later.

As the first intermission was about to end you just made it back to your seat. Cole was able to pull off another assist during the second period. Your friend who has been a fan of the Hubs her entire life told you that you're never allowed to miss a game again because if this was how the rest of the season was gonna go they might make it to the playoffs. All you could do was chuckle at her superstitious behavior. But stopped when the fans around her were agreeing with her when she told them this was your first ever game, Cole invited you and this is how he was playing.

“Oh my god please stop. I don’t want my life to end on twitter. Y/B/F/N.” you begged, taking your hand and covering her mouth. She drunkenly agreed to stop and both of you turned your attention back to the game. Even when he wasn’t on the ice, your eyes couldn’t leave Cole. Every once in a while he would catch you staring at him and making a teasing face back at you, pecking his lips, or sticking his tongue out extra far in order to get an air sip of his water. Every time he did all you could think about was his tongue wrapping around the clit or lapping your pussy like it was on display right now for thousands to see. Every time he was on the bench and went to lick his lips you found yourself squirming in your seat. All your friend could do was roll her eyes at your behavior.

Somehow you made it to the third period, but that’s when Cole scored a goal. You swear it was just to tease you, he skated past your section sticking his tongue out and wiggling it. “Fuck” you mumble to yourself.

“Y/N there are children around. Stop ya nasty!” your friend says as she can’t help the laugh that escapes her. Your mind couldn’t stop thinking about sitting on top of Cole’s face or him on his knees with one of your legs over his shoulders. As you rolled your hips against his tongue dragged. -

Suddenly your brain was brought back to real time as the final buzzer went off. Everyone around you cheered as the HUBS won a shutout - which your friend just told you is what it’s called when the other team doesn’t score a single goal during a game. But to be perfectly honest you weren’t really paying attention to your friend explaining any more slang hockey terms, your eyes focused on Cole as he skated around the ice with his teammates celebrating. The crowd was going crazy as it was the only shutout in what seemed like a lifetime, you could feel the energy of the crowd as you felt your body slightly move with all the jumping fans around you. Cole finally looked over at you from center ice and smiled. He titled his head towards the tunnels slightly reminding you of the puck and the note written on it, you nodded your head yes as you felt your cheeks heat up slightly from anticipation.

Slowly the crowd started leaving once the boys were leaving the ice, finally there was enough room for you and your friend to make your way to the steps.

“Hey thanks for coming by the way.” as you stop at the top of the steps.

“It was fun. Are you ready to go?”

“Actually Cole told me to meet him in the tunnels after the game.” you admit a light blush still painting your cheeks.

“ooo okay have fun girly. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. Text me when you get back to his place.” As she wraps her arms around you to hug you goodbye quickly.

A laugh escapes your lips at your friend's words. “What do you mean ‘his place'?” Making a quotation sign with your hand.

“Well we both know you aren’t going home tonight. You know you'll be busy with him, I’ll just check your location.”

Before you could open your mouth she turned around and was gone. All you could do is laugh as you stood there and watched her walk away. Quickly you turned around and started walking towards the other side of the arena where the tunnels were. Somehow managing to find your way around, you pulled your phone out to text Cole that you were waiting outside of the locker room for him after being stopped by security, but thankfully the pass Cole gave you just in case came in handy. Standing against the wall scrolling Twitter while you waited for Cole to be done.

Somehow the fan girls work faster than you could have ever imagined because someone made a gif of Cole’s tongue sticking out as he skated against the glass during his celly earlier tonight. Watching the gif over and over your breath caught in your throat as all your thoughts form earlier tonight just wanting to want Cole sink to his knees in front of you and eat you out came flooding back. Imagining your hand in his hair helping his face grind against using his tongue for nothing else except your own pleasure. Your mind was wandering and you could feel yourself dripping at the thought of making Cole sink to his knees, you refusing to pull his hair at first as punishment for teasing you all night.

Lost in your own thoughts you didn’t even hear Cole leaving the locker room or coming up to you. Cole knew you were lost in your own world and decided to scare you by running up to you from behind wrapping his arms around you and leaving a wet kiss on your cheek. All that could be heard in the mostly quiet hallway now since he was one of the last players out was his laugh as you squirmed in his arms. “Ew Cole let me down.” you shirked in a high pitch voice he laughed in response spinning you around one more time before setting you down.

“So how did you like watching me play?” he asked, finally facing you, still trying to hold you as close as possible.

“It was good. It was actually kind of hot watching you play.” you admit with a smirk on your lips.

Cole gives you a puzzling look as he questions, “oh yeah?” in a teasing tone.

All you do is flash him a cheeky grin as you admit, “yeah watching you do your little celly on the ice was so hot, but I just kept watching you stick your tongue out all night.” Leaning up to his ear despite no one being around you whispered, “all I could think about was getting you to sink to your knees so I could ride your face, one leg over your shoulder, my back against the wall and not let you touch yourself as punishment for teasing me all night. My hands in your hair pulling and tugging as much as I wanted. All while your tongue is busy, so you can’t even beg me to let you touch yourself to give your hard cock some relief.”

As you lean back only far away enough to see his face, his mouth is ajar in shock at your words. It’s as if he’s processing your words and for the first time in his life he’s quiet for more than a minute, you decide to further tease him while he stands there frozen. “What’s the matter baby boy, cat got your tongue?” A smirk on your lips as you watch him blink, as if his brain has finally caught up to the world around him.

“No, not yet.” His voice is an octave deeper than before filled with lust. Suddenly he’s pulling you down the hallway towards the parking garage. “But it will be.”

But just as you were about to exit the stadium to enter the connected parking garage, Cole made a sharp left turn down a separate hallway. “Where are we going?” you ask.

“Oh, we're making your words reality mamas.” As he opens a door and suddenly you find yourself in some type of equipment storage closet. In the corner is an extra medical bed, and there are sticks everywhere along another wall. But you don’t have too much time to examine the room before you feel Cole behind you after he locks the door. “ Kissing down your neck, blowing air into your ear and all you can do is compliment him by sighing at the feeling.

Quickly you regain your composure and turn around in his arms, finding his lips and kissing him hard. Fighting for dominance, and smirking when you slip your tongue into his mouth, he moans as a response and you can feel your underwear being damp from the sound he makes. Pushing him off of yourself quickly. You take a step back, you're against the wall now as you unbuckle your jeans. He says to you “have I told you how pretty you look with my name on your back.”

Holding your hand up against his chest to stop him from getting any closer to you.”naw ah ah. Let’s put that tongue to good use, less yapping yeah?” Even though you phrase it as a question, your tone is stern and demanding. Taking your left hand that wasn’t on Cole’s chest you move it to his shoulder slightly pushing him down so he’s on his knees. The way he glances up to you with his now darker blue eyes could have made you come right there. Trying to take a breath without showing him how much control he really does have over you at the moment. Pulling your jeans down the rest of the way and stepping out of them, slipping your shoes so you can slip your skinny jeans off the rest of the way.

Looking down at Cole in a full suit, suddenly deciding he’s in too much clothing as he kisses your exposed thighs in front of you. “Take. Off. Your. jacket.”

“Yes Momas.” he says, taking his suit jacket, refusing to lose eye contact with you. He tosses the jacket somewhere behind him joining your jeans. He sticks his tongue out to tease you more as you throw your right leg over his shoulder.

“Don’t even think about teasing Cole.” you grunt. He moves your underwear to the side swiping up and down your cunt in quick motions. “You wanna be a good boy right?” you ask as you tug slightly on his hair.

“Hmm.” he moans as a yes on your clit, closing your eyes at the taste. Taking your hands you tug hard on his hair.

“No, gotta keep your eyes open. I wanna see you while I grind on your face.” As you start to lightly roll your hips, Cole’s hands find the flesh of your ass and back of your thighs. He pulls you closer and starts kneading the soft flesh looking directly up to you as he moves his tongue down to your hole. Pushing in and out teasingly as his nose bumps his nose against your clit. “Fuck Cole.” you moan as you push your shoulders against the door, throwing your head back, closing your eyes at the feeling. Your hands go under the jersey finding your boobs squeezing them through your bra trying to play with your nipples. And then you feel Cole move his head so slightly causing a new angle as you roll your hips against his face even harder. “Fuck right there baby. Don’t stop.” you whine. So much for being in control but right now you couldn’t give a fuck with how good Cole was making you feel.

Cole goes back up with his tongue to do circles over your clit driving so crazy. You don’t even realize one of his hands leaves your ass and his fingers find your hole abusing it even more than his tongue was a minute ago. “Fuck Cole I’m close.” you warn and that’s all you have time to grunt out before your vision blurs and you feel your legs shake, if it hadn’t been for Cole holding you upright you would have fell. He continues to eat you lapping up all your juices until your legs stop shaking and your breathing isn’t so ragged.

Gently he removes his face from your pussy, careful to keep a steady grip on your legs so you stay up right. He slowly makes his way up to you, pulling you into a kiss so you can taste yourself and all you can do is moan in response. “Usually it takes more than a guy eating you out to feel this tired but holy shit Cole.” you mumble leaning your head on his shoulder closing your thighs.

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” he says, reaching down for your jeans that were thrown away earlier.

“No.” you whine. “ I’m not leaving you with this.” As you gently take one of your hands to slightly cup his bulge in his suit pants. He hisses in response. “See your in pain.” you complain.

“I’ll be fine. You just said your tired baby.” he argues. Looking back over at the medical examination bed in the corner of the room you get an idea. Slowly taking one of his hands you turn and walk backwards towards the bed guiding Cole with you. Letting go of his hand, you slip your underwear off the rest of the way and throw in his direction. He catches it on reflex sucking in a breath as feel the medical table behind you. Slowly you climb on and scoot all the way back.

“I’m not too tired for you. Take what you need. Be good for me, make me cum again baby boy.” you beg as you lay down and spread your legs for Cole to have a perfect few of your still dripping pussy from your first orgasim.

“Fuck. how did I get so lucky to get you.” he mumbles to himself as you watch him undress and make his way over to you.

#cole caufield smut #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagine #cole caufield #cole caufield fic #cole caufield x y/n #cole caufield fanfiction #cole caufield blurb #montreal canadiens smut #montreal canadiens fanfic #schwritingscc13 #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

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mercy-burning · 3 months ago

Text

Someone Else

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: "You were simply two beings with the same boisterous hurt in your hearts and a longing to quiet them." Inspired by Devil Herself by Ashe. Category: SMANGST 18+ (angst with smut, the perfect pairing!) Content: Strong language, unprotected sex, crying, crying during sex, oral sex (both receiving), public sex, drinking, reader/narrator self-deprecation, bittersweet ending. Word Count: 2.4k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I started this one back when Ashe's new album came out earlier in September, and I finally needed a break from writing my Alaska fic, so I decided to finish this one up on a whim. Aaaaaand then I cried while finishing it LMAO. Enjoy!! <3

***

You should have known it was too good to be true. Nobody that perfectly imperfect just walks right into your life and stays until your final day. You were smart enough to know that and yet you welcomed him with open arms. How could you not?

Spencer Reid was a heavily damaged soul when you met him. Takes one to know one, you know. Coming off of some trauma he never fully disclosed with you other than a simple yet effective, "I've hurt a lot of people," you knew there was a lot going on in that tragic, beautiful little brain of his— a lot that could probably stand to disappear for a while with a little help... It wasn't like you were one to prey on the damaged, but there was something alluring, and even comforting, about him that you couldn't help but want to unfold. So despite what it looked like on paper, you couldn't call it taking advantage of him.

You were simply two beings with the same boisterous hurt in your hearts and a longing to quiet them.

He took you home to your apartment that night, and gave you the greatest sex of your life. It was urgent and cathartic and all-consuming, and by the end of it you knew you needed to feel him over and over again. Thankfully, Spencer seemed to be mutual in that need, calling you a few days later to ask if he could come over again.

You assumed it would be just sex. For about a month, it was.

And then one night he seemed extra... sad. You could tell he wasn't himself, but you embraced him anyway, knowing you'd certainly been in his shoes with sexual partners before. He tried to be his usual dominating bedroom-self, but not long into the night you could feel his control slipping away. He was thinking too much, getting choked up and weak with each thrust, and before you knew it, you instinctively flipped the switch and lent a helping hand.

You rolled the two of you over and held his torso straight up in a hug as you rode him on the bed, your legs wrapped firmly around his waist. It was the most intimate position the two of you had been in, the most vulnerable, and though it felt a little foreign and confusing emotionally, you couldn't bear to let him be alone. So you let him bury his face in the crook of your neck as you fucked yourself onto him, legs burning but determined to make him feel good.

"I've got you, Spencer," you sighed earnestly into the air, your heart stuttering when you felt him let a small sob out into your skin. "I've got you. I'm here."

His grip tightened around your torso, nails digging into your skin, and he came undone with a purging shout. You didn't finish yourself, but at that moment it didn't matter to you. Still, he profusely apologized through kisses over your shoulders and your arms, and then down to your stomach and lower. You didn't want him to feel like he needed to make anything up to you, but you also couldn't bring yourself to stop him as he cleaned you up with his tongue. You laid there, sighing out his name and letting yourself feel... taken care of. For the first time in your life, it felt like somebody actually gave a shit, despite their own shortcomings. What you offered to him, he offered gladly in return, and it was a breath of fresh air.

A very odd breath of fresh air.

He stayed through the night, falling asleep in your arms, and was gone before you awoke.

For weeks while he was traveling for work, you couldn't shake the feeling of missing him. It wasn't like before, when you'd miss the sex and the sex alone. Suddenly you missed the absence of a smile you'd never seen, and domestic moments you'd never shared.

It was so scary to you that the next time he showed up at your door, you barely even registered that he was smiling sheepishly with a rose in his hand before you tugged him inside by the collar and immediately kissed him. You thought you'd imagined it. You went through the night begging him to fuck you so hard you'd forget your own name, and to his credit, he obliged. But you left the house the next day to see a rose petal flattened to the ground by the doorway, forgotten to the shadows, and that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach came back.

You didn't know if you liked it or not.

Regardless, you decided that the uncertainty was worth it. The two of you spent nearly every free moment together for months, having sex and going out and eating dinner and sharing fucked-up stories.

There were a few moments where you could tell he was trying to get you to open up about your past, but each time you'd shut it down. He didn't need to know the gory details, because they didn't matter. Not anymore. Besides, you certainly didn't push for him to tell you his gory details, and yet each attempt to get you to be vulnerable with him included a little more background of his trauma— A sick and troubled mother, a heavy job with many casualties, and most recently an ex-girlfriend who'd broken things off with him because he cheated on her with a serial killer... All reasonably traumatic.

Still, you weren't naive enough to think that you could open up to him and still live your life out like a fairy-tale romance in the end. Things in your life were always ugly and complicated and unfixable, and no amount of rehashing it to Spencer for the sake of camaraderie was going to change it or make you feel any different. You didn't know why he couldn't seem to see that.

Eventually though, he seemed to have given up. You were afraid that he'd decided you weren't good enough for him then and want to pull away, but to your surprise he remained a constant in your life, and you were grateful.

You showed him exactly how grateful in many ways. Not just with sex, but with adventure. Sometimes both in one.

For his birthday, you took him to his favorite science museum and let him talk you through each exhibit, and when you told him you needed to use the bathroom, you dragged him inside with you. He was rightfully more reserved than in the privacy of your home, but he went along for the ride anyway, holding back groans as you sucked him off in the far stall and nearly choking on air when someone walked in. You tried to hold back a laugh, consequently gagging around him and prompting a concerned, "Are you okay?" from the woman who'd walked in to wash her hands.

"Yeah, I just ate something that didn't settle," you called back, grinning at Spencer, who looked mortified. "I'll be okay, thank you!"

He tried to act like he wasn't amused, but he left the museum with a giant smile, lacing his fingers with yours.

Almost a year into knowing each other, things in your life finally seemed to feel normal and... not bad. Almost good. Admittedly you stopped a few times to wonder if it was going to all come crashing down, but always came to the conclusion that if it did, it wouldn't be surprising given your track record with relationships, and if it didn't, you'd be pleasantly surprised. A win either way, regardless of how depressing the logic was. Still, there was always this sinking feeling that the other shoe was going to drop, try as you might to lock the feeling away.

The night he asked you to meet his friends, you haphazardly shoved the feeling in a box, but you couldn't seem to get it to lock.

They were kind people, that much was obvious. And they loved Spencer. He had a great support system, and you couldn't be mad at that. But it was a group you didn't quite fit into. A family.

You tried your hardest to make small talk, but it was severely painful, and you got a feeling they didn't like you very much.

Which, of course, was unfortunately apparent when you overheard JJ talking to Spencer later in the evening.

"I know you've known her a while now, but... Do you really��know her, Spence? Know anything?"

"She's not keen to talk about her past. But I respect her decision... She doesn't have to tell me anything she doesn't want to." The words were kind, kinder than you probably deserved. But he sounded... hesitant. Like he knew it was the right thing for a boyfriend to say, but he didn't want to say it because he didn't agree.

Your stomach turned sour.

"I just... I don't want you to get your heart broken again. I hate seeing you that way, we all do. You deserve to be happy, with someone who gives back all the love you give."

You didn't stick around to listen to the rest of the conversation, downing the rest of your whiskey, turning on your heel, and making a run for the car, empty glass still in hand. You texted Spencer to let him know you were outside because you didn't feel well, and it wasn't long before he appeared at your side.

"Are you okay?"

His caring, gentle hand on your shoulder felt like a wound.

"No, I think I drank too much. I want to go home."

He carefully guided you into the car, but you felt hollow.

JJ's words hurt, but they weren't wrong. You were just another trauma to add to his compendium, another stain on the page. He didn't deserve you, and you sure as hell didn't deserve someone like him. Damaged or not, he was a genuine good soul surrounded by more genuine good souls. You were a piece that didn't fit.

He surprisingly hadn't avoided you after the disastrous night out with his friends. He distanced himself emotionally a little bit, sure, but he still came to see you regularly.

In fact, he's currently on his way over as you mull over your entire relationship from the start, and there's a knot in your stomach that tells you it might be the last time.

You don't want it to be, but in the year you've known him, he's become... Well, he hasn't become anything, you suppose. He's always been an emotionally intelligent, self-aware person. But somewhere along the way he allowed your companionship to heal a little bit of his damage. Meanwhile, you just let it fester yours.

It was never going to last.

When Spencer finally shows up at your door, you open it for him and pull him in by the collar, afraid that he might somehow slip away if you didn't. If this truly is the last time you see him, you don't want it to be sentimental. You want what you started this with— indulgence.

Your lips attach to his with an eagerness that seems to catch him off guard. His hands hesitate before they knot in your hair, gently tugging the strands as he kisses you back deep and languidly— a little indulgence of his own before he recedes.

He pulls your head away, and you try to resist.

"Y/N..." his voice is shaking. It's unsure. But his hands are firm as they cradle your head.

You grip his shirt tightly, willing the word to work when you say, "Don't," through your teeth.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore," he says quietly.

The words numb you, but you'd expected it. You loosen your grip on his shirt and feel yourself slipping away. "I know, and I get it. We don't fit. I used to think we did, but..."

You're actually more well-adjusted than I thought.

He drops his eyes sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

You deserve better anyway.

So much for indulgence.

"But I am... I... I know you don't see it, but there's a lot of good in you, Y/N. You're bright, and beautiful, and witty, and charming... And you're going to find someone someday, who you'll want to open up to, and you'll let them bring out all the best parts of you. I'm... It's unfortunate that I probably won't be there to witness it, but I just wanted you to know... that I wish you absolutely nothing but the best. You deserve it."

It's ironic, you think, that he's probably the closest you'd ever gotten to what he's just described. The missing him when he was away, and the fighting urge for something that you always felt when he was near, but pushed down and buried at the last second... Something that felt a little too much like pure love and not just love for the sake of giving the feeling a name.

He was so close to being that person for you, the one who pulls out all of your best qualities and makes you want to open up. But in the end, his grip wasn't strong enough.

You don't even realize that you'd shed a tear until Spencer reaches out and wipes it away. And then you feel all of them, blurring your vision slowly and surely until it blinds you and your throat is too tight to breathe. He pulls you into a sweltering hug that will stay with you forever.

You sob willingly into his chest, and you aren't sure for how long, but he gladly holds you through it all— until you calm yourself down and blow your nose. He even pours you a glass of water and makes sure you're really okay before he leaves, parting with a final tender kiss.

The cliche of it all almost makes you groan, but you laugh at it instead—slowly at first, but then you're crying again, only this time through a humongous fit of manic laughter. It rings through the room sharply, surely annoying the neighbors upstairs and down. But you don't care.

Because even though it isn't indulgence, in a way, you're still ending this relationship the same way you started it.

In catharsis.

You were right, It was too good to be true. It wasn't meant to last.

But for the first time in your life, as you laugh yourself to sleep, you finally feel... like you're going to be okay.

Because if somebody like Spencer Reid believes in you, then there must be something good in there, after all.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #Spencer Reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #criminal minds

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iovebarca · 9 months ago

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hiii loved all of your fics… could you do a fluff one with marc guiu where they have been studying for school so they haven’t seen eachother for days and marc surprises her by going to her house? hope you’ve understood everything!

A Midnight Interlude - Marc Guiu

Authors note: First of all thank you so much! and I hope I did your request right :) 💓

WC: 1200+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, just fluff!

summary: Amid exam stress, Marc surprises you. After a cozy movie night and stargazing. Grateful for Marc's presence, you drift to sleep.

send me requests!! ❤️

You've been drowning in textbooks and notes for days, the looming exams consuming every waking moment. Each page turned feels like another step closer to the edge of exhaustion. But amidst the stress and late-night cram sessions, there's one thing you miss more than anything, spending time with Marc.

You and Marc have been inseparable since you met at a mutual friend's birthday party. From the first moment you laid eyes on each other, there was an undeniable connection. You've shared laughter, secrets, and countless moments together. But as finals approach, your time together has dwindled to brief text messages and occasional phone calls.

One evening, as you sit at your desk, buried under a pile of papers, you hear a soft knock on your door. Startled, you glance at the clock. Who could be visiting at this hour?

You open the door to find Marc standing there, a sheepish smile on his face and a backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes sparkle with excitement as he takes in the sight of you.

"Marc! What are you doing here?" you exclaim, unable to hide your surprise.

"I missed you," he says simply, stepping inside and pulling you into a warm embrace. His arms feel like a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of your busy life. "I know you've been swamped with studying, but I couldn't go another day without seeing you."

You feel your stress melt away in Marc's arms. You've been so caught up in your studies that you hadn't realized just how much you missed him. His presence is like a soothing balm for your weary soul.

"Come on," Marc says, taking your hand. "Let's take a break from all this studying. I brought some snacks and your favorite movie."

You can't help but smile as Marc leads you to the living room, where he has set up a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in front of the TV. The soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting a warm, inviting light.

The sight of popcorn and chocolate makes your stomach rumble with anticipation. You settle onto the couch, tucking yourself into Marc's side as he presses play on the remote. The movie begins, but you find it hard to concentrate with Marc so close, his warmth seeping into your bones.

For the next few hours, you lose yourself in the world of the movie and each other's company. You laugh, you cry, and you share whispered conversations in the dark. It feels like no time has passed at all since you were last together, lost in your own little bubble of happiness.

As the credits roll, you realize just how much you needed this break. Marc has a way of grounding you, of making you forget about the pressures of school and just enjoy the moment. You turn to him, feeling a rush of gratitude and love swell in your chest.

"Thank you for coming, mi amor," you say, pressing a kiss to Marc's cheek.

"Anytime, mi vida," he replies, his voice soft and gentle. "I'll always be here for you, no matter how busy life gets."

You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment, savoring the closeness between you. Then Marc speaks up, his voice tentative.

"Would it be okay if I stayed over tonight?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for approval. "I don't want to leave you alone after such a long day."

A smile spreads across your face at the thought of spending the night with Marc. It's been too long since you've had him beside you, and the idea of falling asleep in his arms fills you with warmth.

"I would love that," you say, reaching out to take his hand. "Stay as long as you like."

Marc's face lights up with a smile, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "Thank you, mi vida," he murmurs, his voice filled with love.

"Hey," he says softly, turning to you with a gleam in his eyes. "It's a perfect night for stargazing. What do you say we take a break and enjoy the view?"

You smile at the suggestion, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "That sounds wonderful." you reply, already imagining the cozy scene under the night sky.

Together, you gather blankets and pillows, creating a makeshift nest in the backyard. The air is cool and crisp, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the house. You settle onto the blankets, snuggling close to Marc as you tilt your heads back to gaze at the stars.

The night sky stretches out above you, a vast expanse of darkness illuminated by pinpricks of light. Wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The worries of exams and deadlines fade into the background as you lose yourselves in the beauty of the night.

As the hours pass, you share hopes and dreams, whispering secrets into the darkness. You talk about the future, imagining all the adventures you'll go on together once the football season and exams are over and summer break begins.

At one point, a shooting star streaks across the sky, and you both make a wish in unison, hearts filled with hope and possibility.

As you both lay under the blanket of stars, Marc turns to you with a soft smile. "What did you wish for?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, a playful twinkle in your eye. "I can't tell you," you reply with a teasing grin. "You know the rule - if you tell, it won't come true."

Marc chuckles, leaning in closer to you. "Ah, playing it safe, are we?" he says, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it comes true for you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a rush of affection flooding your heart. You reach out to squeeze his hand, feeling the connection between you grow even stronger in the quiet of the night.

As Marc's question lingers in the air, a soft smile graces your lips. "I wished for our future together," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Marc's eyes widen slightly, his gaze softening as he takes in your words. "Our future," he repeats, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I couldn't wish for anything more."

You feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you, overwhelmed by the depth of love you feel for Marc in this moment. He pulls you close, wrapping you in a tight embrace as if to reaffirm his commitment to you and the future you both envision together.

Underneath the canopy of stars, surrounded by the quiet serenity of the night, you share a moment of pure connection and understanding. It's as if the universe itself is whispering its blessings upon your love, promising a future filled with endless possibilities and boundless joy.

As you lay there, wrapped in Marc's arms, you can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know that as long as you have Marc by your side, you'll be able to face them together, hand in hand, with unwavering love and devotion.

And as you drift off to sleep, cradled in the warmth of Marc's embrace, you hold onto the hope and excitement of the future that awaits, knowing that with him, anything is possible.

#marc guiu #marc guiu fluff #marc guiu x reader #marc guiu oneshot #marc guiu imagine #la masia #fc barcelona

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fanaticsnail · 7 months ago

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Maybe it's just me, but I feel like tumblr has been eating my asks. I sent one to you a little while ago about an idea I thought was pretty funny, but if it's because you didn't feel comfortable answering or just didn't like it, that's totally okay. I won't be upset if you ignore this for your own comfort. I'm sorry if this is coming off as rude in any way, I'm not trying to come off that way, I promise.

The silly idea I had was, considering the beef between Kid and Beckman (probably one-sided all things considered), what would happen if Beckman had a daughter that fell in love with Kid? I'm imagining a "But daddy, I love him!" type of situation.

Reader: But daddy I love him! 🥺

Beckman: 💀 *thinking about buying 20 more packs of cigarettes*

Shanks: *dying of laughter*

Beautiful, darling anon.

Firstly, I swear to you that Tumblr has not eaten your ask. It's sitting very comfortably in my ask box while I covered my hands and muffled the initial scream of joy in my palms. The cogs have been turning ever since, and it's one of those fics that I simply cannot stop thinking about. I am consumed with it so much that I can almost think of nothing else.

Secondly, I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS PROMPT. I TOLD MY MUTUALS ABOUT IT AND I AM PHYSICALLY IMPLODING.

@jintaka-hane - here's the synopsis 😏

I have made an outline, set up several events, and attempted to make it a one-shot to no avail. It has gotten really angsty really quickly, but I am slowly but surely chipping away at it.

Here is the playlist for "But Daddy, I love him." Synopsis below the cut.

Synopsis:

Shanks always knew the risk he took in claiming a single father as the first-mate to his crew - but not ever did he anticipate an experience such as this.

Having you as Beckman's daughter, and apple of his eye, aboard the Red-Force was always a joy. Seeing the growth from a small child in infancy to a woman of such strength and courage was one of the few rays of sun against the storm clouds gathering in the raging sea.

As assistant to Hongo, the doctor aboard the ship, you opted to remain behind to seek and source out medical equipment for resupply while your father and your crew set sail for a month. Two weeks before they were due to return, you adventure to port where you witnessed the sight of a masked man dragging an unconscious, hulking redhead over his shoulder, with blood and bone breaking away at a mutilated and partially decapitated arm.

Immediately snapping into medical survival mode, you usher the two men to your lodgings and begin the horrible task of claiming the rest of this man's arm and suturing up the rest of his scarred flesh. Slipping in and out of consciousness, his tongue and lips would sing nothing but your praises each time he awoke. You bully him, yelling at him to stay put and keep still - and he flirts with you, telling you "yes, ma'am" and "no, ma'am" with as much of a grin as he can grimace through the pain.

When he finally gains full consciousness, you feel safe enough to tell relay to him the exact amount of damage done to his arm. You tell him you recognise the wound as a haki-infused bullet - something you know of intimately well. You know the treatment, you know the damage, and you know how much pain they can bring to an individual far into the future. He gruffly utters his thanks, asks you how much he owes you for treatment, and you simply roll your eyes and leave.

Before you have an opportunity to leave, he tugs at your hand and urges your faces ever closer together, looking up at you through his eyelashes and claiming your lips atop his. The kiss sparks passion, his injured state prompts your actions to remain careful but longing. He ushers you into the bed beside him and shows you just how much passion he can muster with only one arm and his partial strength.

By the end of the fortnight, you're hopelessly in love with one another. He offers you a place on his crew, and you inform him you already have one. As he reaches the pier where his ship is being repaired, you see your vessel on the horizon. He hooks his arms over your shoulder, first narrows his eyes before immediately widening them in shock.

As you point out your vessel to him, his lips part in shock. He has not only slept with a pirate rivalling his crew, but he has slept with the daughter of a man who claimed his arm from him. And he was in love with you. Desperately and unapologetically in love with you.

And you were none the wiser, only seeing your dad and your family sailing into bay to take you on their next journey.

IT HAS BEEN ON MY MIND EVER SINCE, AND I WANT TO KNOW MORE BEFORE I EXPLODE.

Anyway, that's just me. Thank you for your beautiful prompt, I am chip chip chipping away 🖤

#one piece #x reader #op kod #one piece kid #kid x reader #eustass x reader #beckman #op beckman #red haired pirates #kid pirates #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #synopsis only #f!reader #ask snail #snail answers

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bish-plz-haha · 3 months ago

Text

Do you ever have those fanfics that consume every tab in your brain? And you can't stop thinking about them?

Let me share some of my favourite ones (not in any particular order):

Ps. A lot of these are by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels. Not sorry!

PPS. Some are restricted. So... I'll mention which.

PPPS. Probably will be adding to this list as I read more. 🤷‍♂️

(fics below cut)

• Your Fingerprints Smeared on My Heart (Lead Me Back to You) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Restricted)

- In 1880, Evan Buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets Eddie Diaz, cowboy. When fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again. In 2018, Buck walks into his fire station in Los Angeles - and meets Eddie Diaz, new recruit.

• What's love got to do with it? by ColorMeParanoid

- After Buck’s and Eddie’s dates both end with disasters – proving once again that maybe dating just wasn’t meant for them – they decide to simply settle for each other. If there was one person in the world they'd ever trust with their hearts, it was each other. And who was a better person to date other than your very own best friend?

• A little nudge or a giant shove by Never_x_Better

- Chris gets involved in Eddie's dating life. What follows is a story of them falling deeper in love, and maybe finally realising it

• Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Restricted)

- When Eddie Diaz stumbles his way into money, he finds himself one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles - to his dismay. He needs a way to get people off his back without confessing his messy marital situation, and Shannon's still not answering his calls, so he caves to a friend's suggestion: hire someone to pretend to be his partner.

Enter Evan "Buck" Buckley: sugar baby, fire fighter, and the man about to turn Eddie's world upside down.

• Courtship Behaviors of the Southern Coastal Husbro by Mad_Lori

- Buck and Eddie decide to become platonic domestic partners and co-parents. They are 100% super normal about it and absolutely nothing is awakened in them, except a mutual annoyance at being referred to as "husbros."

• Stuck on Fast Forward (Throw Away the Blueprint) by extasiswings (Restricted)

- Frank gives Eddie therapy homework, Eddie misunderstands the assignment, and Buck is just a really supportive friend...right?

• Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Restricted)

- When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

• The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Restricted)

- The Buckley's are celebrating their 50th Anniversary, and Maddie and Buck are both expected to come. To take the heat off Maddie, Buck impulsively blurts out that he's seeing someone new.

Obviously, there's only one solution: bring Eddie as his fake boyfriend, pretend to be in love with him, and survive the weekend with minimal bloodshed. No problem, except for the, uh. "Pretend" part.

Oops.

• come love, by colonoscopys

- Broody, arrogant, and rude, Evan Buckley has made a name for himself at Buckley Enterprises—as the grandson of the founders and one of the most powerful businessmen in the country. He's determined to be at the top and stay at the top, even if certain distractions get in the way.

Enter distraction: Strong-willed, charming, and brilliant, Eddie Diaz has been hired to protect Evan Buckley from the threats made against him—although the biggest threat seems to be himself. He's determined to do his job, even if his gorgeous, snobby boss is deadset against it.

Can the two of them get what they want without getting in each other's way?

• Tread Lightly by an_alternate_world

- Healing after a truck bombing, breakup, pulmonary embolism, tsunami and lawsuit is a slow process when you're afraid to talk to your team when it feels like the world is crumbling in on you. Finding your way out of the crippling darkness is a lonely process when you're afraid you'll get benched again for something beyond your control. Learning to love again is a terrifying process when you're not sure your best friend will ever truly forgive you.

• I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Restricted)

- When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

• you can tell everybody this is your song (series) by

woodchoc_magnum

- Story of Eddie and Buck and how their relationship progresses over time

• the dream you wish will come true by woodchoc_magnum

- In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

• I hope i can see you again (so I can finally kiss u) by KilledbyKarlJacobs

- On a mission gone wrong, Buck finds himself in captivity together with someone named Eddie Diaz? What happends if they get seperated and only meet again years later?

• Drowning in Dreams (You're My Raft) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Restricted)

- In which Buck sleeps his way into a relationship with Eddie, but not in the way you'd think.

• Speak Now by datleggy

- Fake Dating AU idea from a tumblr post that got out of hand the minute I started writing.

Eddie lies to Shannon about being in a serious relationship when she wants to re-enter his and Christopher's lives, and of course the person he asks to be his pretend significant other is none other than Evan Buckley, because what are bros for?

• I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania

- After the ladder truck and the blood clot and the tsunami, Bobby makes Buck go to therapy before he does something stupid (like sue the city). Buck's not totally comfortable being alone with a therapist, but fortunately he makes a friend and ally who's willing to help him out - Eddie Diaz from the 136 who's just been caught in an illegal fight club.

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

• Those Two Firefighters by DarkFairytale

- #thosetwofirefighters starts to gather a following on social media, as everyone tries to figure out if those two cute firefighters from the 118 in LA are a thing or not.

• translate the magic (show me) by extasiswings (Restricted)

- “I think I might be bad in bed.”

Eddie rolls that thought around in his head, trying to decide the best way to respond, weighing the options of what Buck needs to hear versus how to say it. It’s not a conversation he wants to be having, is part of the problem. Thinking about Buck desperately seeking connection through fleeting sexual encounters with strangers already makes him swallow back a wave of petty jealousy and possessiveness. But there’s an added level of insult to injury to the idea that Buck wasn’t even having good sex. Which maybe explains why despite his initial commitment to delicacy and tact, what comes out of Eddie’s mouth is—

“You probably were. Bad at it.”

Buck’s eyes widen, a strangled noise sounding from his throat.

“Don’t pull any punches,” he shoots back as he hunches in the chair and drains the last dregs of his beer.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

[Or: the one where Buck has a crisis and Eddie teaches him what good sex really is]

• Bonds of Respect and Joy by Bythia

- After the tsunami, Eddie has to deal with his parents, who for some reason think he and Buck are responsible for a natural disaster and Christopher being caught up in that. Buck, meanwhile, has to deal with Maddie's overbearing worry about him that has only been amplified by the tsunami. Along the way, Buck, Eddie, and Christopher start to become a family without even noticing

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crepesuzette2023 · 1 year ago

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Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

#fic rec #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #mclennon fic #asks #fic recs #overall favorites fic recs

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gnocchibabie · 6 months ago

Text

Desire and Blood (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Warnings: mentions of SA; Aemond has slightly horny thoughts?

Wordcount: 6.1k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

A/N: You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

During the fortnight that had passed since his half-sister’s coronation, Aemond Targaryen had hours on end to think.

And his thoughts, he had found, utterly consumed him.

They consumed him in the dead of night, whilst he lay awake in bed. They consumed him in the training yard, leading Criston Cole to best him again and again. They consumed him high in the skies atop Vhagar, where he once felt solace in the clouds. They consumed him at dinner, when he sat next to his niece and tried to ignore the echoing of her brother’s confession.

You can always tell when she’s lying.

Jaenara Velaryon was consuming him. Wholly and fully. She washed over him like the unrelenting waves (waves that her so-called “father’s” family prided themselves on conquering), that left Aemond struggling to resurface.

The most ironic part of it all, Aemond had thought, was that she was blissfully unaware of it all. Unaware of how her twin had revealed her true feelings in one simple sentence.

It hadn’t taken Aemond long to discern the meaning of Jacaery’s words, though he could still scarcely believe the insinuation.

She likes to pretend she doesn't care…

Amidst his schemes of treason, Aemond hardly thought his undoing would be the revelation that his betrothed had somehow come to care for him. Aemond could not — would not, understand it. He had given her nothing to care for, while she only gave him more and more reasons with every encounter.

Though it made sense, to him at least, that the unveiling of such feelings would lead to his own ruin. No one had cared for him his entire life. Surely not his father, nor his mother — at least not since he was a small child. And he knew that Jaenara had not previously held such affections for him. Something had changed, and he was not sure what he did or when it occurred.

But was this not what he wanted? If Jaenara truly did find herself now caring for Aemond, now attracted to him — he should be elated. It meant everything was going to plan. The more he charmed his niece, the less likely he was to be caught with the blood of Jacaerys Velaryon on his hands. The more Jaenara grew to care and trust for her uncle, the more power he would hold at Dragonstone, and eventually— the Seven Kingdoms.

Despite his ambitions, it is much easier for Aemond Targaryen to convince himself that his nephew had simply been lying. Perhaps in order to toy with him, just as he did in their youth. Or perhaps to elevate his sister’s standing in the eyes of her betrothed. Though the thought that either twin should have to do such a thing made elicited guilt from Aemond.

No matter the reason, Aemond resigns himself to believe that his nephew tried to fool him. He remembers the words he uttered to Jaenara on her first evening in King’s Landing:

You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love. But one founded on mutual…respect. Understanding.

What could he have said that would make his intentions of their relationship any clearer?

The two had agreed that their marriage was nothing more than an avoidance of mutually assured destruction — his niece had no need to feign attraction to him.

“But you care for her, do you not?” Sylvi voices beside him, running a hand through his white hair. The woman had carefully considered Aemond’s confessions, patiently waiting for him to finish his recounting.

The Targaryen prince had been frequenting the Streets of Silk more often after the coronation. The reality of having no one to voice his inner thoughts to, and no one to find consolation from was something not even Aemond could bear.

So he sought out comfort from the whore that had damaged him. She who was forced onto him at the hands of his brother, all those years ago. Aemond found he did not mind the arrangement that much. It was much safer to run into the arms of a whore, to tell her his troubles. She had no power over him. She did not truly care for him.

Sylvi listened and comforted Aemond with honeyed words that easily fell from her lips. She ran warm hands through his soft hair. She held him close and let him lay his head atop her chest. She let him nip at the supple skin of her breasts.

Against his better judgment and in favor of all his most selfish desires, Aemond found himself imagining she was Jaenara. He imagined Jaenara’s words of comfort, how sweeter — how truer they would be. He imagined her soft, deft hands tangling through his hair — imagined his own rough hands finding their place in her beautiful dark locks. He imagined laying his head atop her own breasts, going as far as to pepper soft kisses on the supple skin. He wondered how she would gasp if he were to latch onto her nipple. He wondered what her bare form would look like, nestled at his side, taking the place of Sylvi.

His fantasies leave him reeling. He did everything to convince himself Jaenara could not regard him with such sincerity or console him so sweetly, and yet here he was yearning for such realities. Was it wrong to think of the woman who was to be his wife in such a way?

Aemond finally remembers the madam is waiting for a response, “I…I do not know.” He says quietly. A lie.

“I think you do,” Slyvi tells him “You speak of her softly. You probably think about her even more. She is to be your wife. It is good to be attracted to your wife.” She chuckles.

Aemond hums. A beat.

“What else troubles you, my prince?”

Aemond takes a moment to collect his thoughts, but finds he is unable to. Not fully. His good eye shuts, the other socket holding the vibrant sapphire remaining perpetually open. He feels the scar itch and all at once Aemond thinks of his niece, his nephews, his brother, his mother, a pig, blood dripping into his palm, and a dozen more childhood memories he’d rather not dwell on.

“They used to tease me, you know? Because I was different.” Is all he says. The leather eyepatch lay discarded on a corner of the warm bed.

Madam Sylvi sighs and brings the fearsome prince closer to her chest.

Silence settles over the two once more and Aemond sinks deeper into soft, silk sheets. Despite the comfort he feels at the moment, he feels an inkling of worry at the thought of what his niece would make of him in such a position. Jaenara’s stoic, fearsome uncle reduced to such a state.

Because of her.

Outside the privacy of their room, Aemond hears footsteps draw near. Slurred voices and crackling laughter follow. He pays little attention to the disturbance, knowing they will continue on their way when they see his room is occupied.

A hand yanks at the drapes covering the chamber, and Aemond hears a familiar scoff. Whirling around to meet the disruption, he feels his heart stop in his chest.

Aegon and several of his half-witted friends are staring back at him, mouths agape. His brother breaks out into an uproarious, drunken laughter, the noise making the color drain from the prince’s face. Aemond is quick to move, sitting up and attempting to cover himself. Slyvi looks between the brothers and sits up hesitantly.

“Aemond the fierce!?” Aegon booms. He lurches towards his brother, staggering and reeking of alcohol.

He settles on the bed behind him, “You have come so far, and — and yet you still lie with your very first! What a fine…sweet thing.”

As Aegon’s giggles once again bubble up, Aemond remains silent. A rage begins to smolder deep in his stomach, rising up his throat, poised to scorch everyone in the room. His eye remains devoid of emotion, belying the turmoil he harbors inside.

Aegon’s friends shift around uncertainly, not even able to fake a smile.

“Oh…wait…I — I know what brings you here Aemond,” his brother begins again, words slurred and voice full of mockery, “You are practicing to bed our sweet niece!” Aegon cackles again and it is wild and wicked and loud. “And what a fine way to learn! Only from the best!” Aegon motions to Sylvi, who squirms uncomfortably on the bed.

“So, will you fuck the bastard princess like a hound brother?” Aegon pauses his laughter to howl and bark. Madam Sylvi and Aegon’s company startle at the noise.

Hearing those words from his brother, Aemond feels a cord snap inside of him. Aemond turns to his brother, his face even and serious, though his eye is dark and brimming with fury.

“You will not speak of my wife in such a way again.” Is all he says, though his vitriolic tone ceases Aegon’s cruel laughter. While Aemond’s rage could be likened to that of a real dragon's, he makes no attempt to truly on it. The Prince only rises from his spot on the bed and marches out of the room. Aegon’s laughter is replenished at seeing his brother stride out into the brothel, never once looking back.

Amidst the royal apartments of Maegor’s holdfast, Alicent Hightower’s chamber brims with activity. Jaenara Velaryon sits at a table within the room, alongside Alicent, Helaena, and Rhaenyra. The women — mostly Rhaenyra and Alicent — had spent much of the evening going over grand plans for the ever approaching wedding. The women had all met after dinner, when the sun was still on the horizon. Now, they found a full moon high in the night sky. Planning had carried on late into the evening, as Jaenara found her mother was hardly available at any other hour due to her Queenly duties. While the discussions had started out productive for all parties, Jaenara and Helaena became less and less enthused about being kept awake at such hours. Candlelight emphasized the shadows forming under their heavy eyes, though their mothers seemed to take little notice as they continued with their dialogue.

The planning encompassed everything from the ceremony itself, to the feast afterwards, to the additional two days of celebration that would occur. Jaenara had almost fallen out of her chair at the last revelation, but Rhaenyra and Alicent had urged her that the prolonged celebration was necessary. The realm needed to see how united House Targaryen now stood, with ample time to partake in its splendor and festivities.

Jaenara had stifled a laugh when imagining how Aemond would take the news. She imagined her uncle would barely be able to withstand simply standing in front of her and reciting vows — but two days of celebration? In which they would be the focal point of every festivity? She could almost picture the look on his face.

As the princess melted into her chair further, eyes barely managing to stay open, a thought suddenly came to mind.

The bedding.

The realization made Jaenara sit up straight in her chair. She had almost forgotten the barbaric tradition, and the mere mention of it made goosebumps appear on her skin. The thought of being touched and undressed by all those people…Jaenara could already feel hungry eyes and rough touches burning holes in her skin. She didn’t much care for the thought of Aemond being subjected to such indecencies either. The thought made her all the more queasy.

She cleared her throat, causing the mothers to cease their conversations.

“Um…Mother. Alicent,” Her throat felt scratchy from not having spoken for several minutes. Maybe hours? She could not even remember. Time had blended together.

“I was wondering…well. Well…is it really necessary that we have a…a bedding ceremony?” The words struggled to leave her throat, fearing the reprimanding she may receive from suggesting such an idea.

“Oh,” Her mother’s voice was soft and light, “You needn't worry about that my dear. We will not be having such a cruel ceremony.”

A mix of confusion and relief overtook Jaenara, “What?”

Rhaenyra smiled at her daughter, “Didn’t I tell you, Nara? Now that I am Queen, things will be different.” She relaxed at the assertive and reassuring tone her mother took, and then looked to Alicent.

“I cannot fathom that Aemond would be eager to partake in such a horrid tradition either. I only wish every woman could be spared such a humiliation…” Alicent’s gaze drifts to her daughter, who has fallen asleep in her chair, then back to Jaenara. She gives her future daughter a tight smile, “I expect you both will still consummate your marriage regardless of a bedding ceremony.”

The princess bows her head to the two women, “Thank you.” Her relief is tangible, though Alicent’s mention of her and Aemond’s impending…duty does dampen her gratitude.

Jaenara looks to Alicent once more, “Your Grace? I was wondering…well, a while ago, Aemond asked me of my favorite dessert, so that he may ensure it will be included in the wedding feast…”

The Lady’s eyes softened, “Yes, he told me of it. Lemon cakes.”

Rhaenyra looks down and smiles as the reminder of her and her daughter’s shared sweet tooth. Jaenara continues, “Well, I was wondering if you had any idea of his own likes or interests? I would ask him myself, though I would like to surprise him.”

Alicent Hightower’s expression fills with uncertainty, her eyes dimming. She thinks for a moment before responding, “My son has always been…reserved. Very secretive about his wants and desires. I am afraid I will not be of much help to you.”

Jaenara’s heart falters at the woman’s words. “Not to worry, Your Grace. I understand. It can be…difficult to penetrate the heart’s of those who keep them closely guarded.”

Alicent hums thoughtfully at the princess’ words. Beside her Helaena, now awake, stirs uncomfortably. The young princesses share a look. Despite her own words of reassurement, Jaenara could not fathom how a mother could know so little pertaining to her children. Alicent’s inability to name even one thing that Aemond might like to have at the wedding left the princess feeling befuddled. She settled her attention on the candelabra in front of her, the yellow flames dancing across her lavender eyes. A white teardrop of wax slides down the length of the candle, pooling around the bottom.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Rhaenyra slowly rises to her feet. “It has grown late rather quickly, shall we resume our planning again? Say, tomorrow evening?” The Queen looks around the table.

“I should hope this all is nearly drawing to a close…” Jaenara’s dramatic tone and joking groans elicit a small laugh from Alicent.

“We have only planned the ceremony, my dear. There are still two more days to go over.” She tells Jaenara.

The princess sighs and forces herself to her feet, Helaena slowly coming to a stand as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. The door of the room is opened, revealing a torrential downpour that cascaded outside of Maegor’s Holdfast. The sounds of rain and distant thunder washed over the court. As the women file out of the chamber, Jaenara hears a voice beside her.

“Princess Jaenara, if I may have a moment?” Lady Alicent asks.

“Oh…certainly.” Jaenara looks at the other women, “Goodnight, mother — and Helaena.” Her aunt gives her a tired smile, while Rhaenyra looks to Alicent, giving her a questioning nod.

“Goodnight, my dear. I wish to see you at breakfast tomorrow.” Her mother asserts. Time between mother and daughter — time between Rhaenyra and all of her family — had been limited at best lately. She savored every moment she could spare with them.

As the women depart, Jaenara turns her attention back to Alicent. The lady gingerly takes Jaenara’s hands into her own in an attempt to ease the obvious uncertainty in her expression.

“Jaenara,” Alicent begins, “I wanted to take a moment to…clear the air. I know that our history has been strained. But I hope that you…you can find it within yourself to forgive me. Though I do not deserve it, not truly. For all the things I have said about you — about your family. For all I have done.” Jaenara searches the woman’s dark eyes and finds only sincerity and determination.

“And Aemond…” Alicent takes in a sharp breath and looks towards the ceiling for a moment, “Aemond’s animosity towards you — only I am to blame for it. Ever since my children were babes, I have sown seeds of hostility for your family in them. Thankfully they never took root in Helaena but…But I see Aemond now — really see how he acts around you. He seems…alight.” Alicent falters a moment and looks to the floor. Jaenara squeezes her hands lightly, trying to provide some sign of reassurement.

“Lady Alicent,” The princess begins, “I sincerely thank you for the apologies…but I am not so sure I deserve them. Not entirely.” She takes a deep breath and continues. “It's true that your sons were not kind to me or my brothers in our youth…though I cannot help but think about that night with Aemond…at Driftmark….” A pained look flashes across Alicent’s face.

“My brothers and I changed Aemond forever. There is no denying that. We were but children, yes…but the folly of youth has followed us into adulthood. And I cannot imagine what a mother must feel in such a moment. And now,” Jaenara lets out an incredulous chuckle, “Now he is asked to marry the woman who partook in taking a…a piece of him?” The princess’s voice lowers to a whisper and her hands weakly drop from Alicents.

“For that, I am sorry.” Jaenara finishes.

Alicent Hightower studied the princess for a moment, the soft glow of the room shining on her face, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Jaenara's lips formed a sympathetic pout, her brow furrowing slightly. A choked sound escaped Alicent's throat as she reached for Jaenara's hands once more.

She took a deep breath. "What has happened in the past must remain there, for both our own sanities, and families' sakes. But the future is still unwritten," Alicent said earnestly, meeting Jaenara's gaze with conviction, “I believe the gods had a hand in forging this union. You may still believe it is nothing more than the product of a peace agreement. I thought so too for a time…but I choose to believe there may yet be a greater purpose.”

“A greater purpose?” Jaenara echoes the Lady’s words.

“Redemption.” Her smile is faint, as if it were nothing more than a shadow casted upon her face.

Aemond slithers back into the Red Keep with ease. He had come to know the secret passages littered throughout the castle like the back of his hand. Perhaps it was the one thing he could thank his brother for, as it was Aegon who showed Aemond the tunnels.

The prince is soaked from head to toe now, having gotten caught in the middle of the storm that raged on outside. A trail of mud tracks litter the floor behind him as he enters Maegor’s Holdfast, watching the rain pour down around the royal apartments.

After suffering such humiliation at the hands of Aegon, Aemond had marched straight back to the Red Keep. He found that in that moment, sitting on that fine bed with its silk sheets, Aemond felt like a boy again. Aegon had a way of making people feel like that.

Aemond One Eye. Aemond The Fierce. The man who claimed Vhagar. Reduced to nothing more than insecure whelp.

On top of this, his brother’s disparaging remarks towards Jaenara did not sit well with him. And that was putting it lightly. After that, Aemond felt his humiliation replaced by utter hatred — the only thing stopping him from knocking Aegon to the floor was the fallout that would ensue after. Aegon would surely go spouting off about Aemond’s whereabouts to Jaenara. He could not even stomach imagining the look on his niece’s face if she were to learn of such things.

As he quietly makes his way to his chambers, drawing the curious looks of a few guards standing watch, Aemond sees a small figure on the opposite end of the corridor. The figure holds a candle and stops in front of Jaenara’s chamber. The prince speeds up his pace to greet the shadow, his voice coming out hushed and thick.

“Niece?”

The princess almost drops the candle from her hand, letting out a quiet string of curses. When she regains her composure, she looks up at Aemond with wild eyes.

“Aemond?” she whispers harshly.

“What are you doing out at such an hour?” Jaenara finds a surprising edge in his tone. Even more surprising was the tinge of concern in his voice.

“I have been planning our wedding. With my mother — and yours…and Helaena.” She feels her cheeks heat up. Her words of defensiveness shift to ones of inquisition as she looks over her uncle, sodden and muddy.

“I should be the one asking where you have been. Why are you soaking wet?”

Aemond stiffens. He was not in the mood to have such a conversation with Jaenara. The prince looks down the hallway for a moment, then back at Jaenara’s door. His eye narrows at the empty space in front of them, where a Kingsguard was supposed to be standing watch.

“Where is your sworn sword?” While Aemond was truthfully attempting to shift the dialogue, he was still in disbelief of what he saw.

Jaenara looked away and shrugged her shoulders, “I…have not chosen one yet.”

Aemond felt embers spark within him once more, “What?”

“Well if you have not noticed, I have had much to worry about as of late! This was simply not a priority of mine…but I will choose a knight soon.” She finishes her half-assed defense, voice stiff.

Aemond feels anger bubbling within him. Had she such little care for her own well-being? And why hadn’t anyone else taken notice of this issue? His mother and sister had sworn swords, and yet his betrothed was left to wander about the castle unprotected?

“You will choose a shield. Tomorrow. I will see to it and attend with you.” He is firm and there is no room for discussion.

The sound of rain still echoes around the two, almost heightening their silence. Jaenara looks over her uncle. Drops of rain drip down his face, slide across his cheeks. She looks at his scar a moment, thinking back to her conversation with Alicent.

Aemond notices where her gaze falls, and his posture stiffens. He is about to take his leave for his chambers when Jaenara speaks.

“Come in and dry off.”

Aemond feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“Do you care so little of your reputation?” He whispers.

Just as your mother did not - Aemond thinks to himself, though he knows better than to voice the thought aloud.

“If you haven’t noticed uncle,” She gestures throughout the corridor, “There is no one here. As I do not have a sworn sword…as you have so graciously pointed out. And besides, I am not meaning to imply anything…indecent. I only meant — well — I only thought you appeared troubled this evening and…” Jaenara’s words trail off and Aemond feels his heart soften.

He looks around the hallway once more. “Let’s go then,” he breathes, “I will not be staying long.” He wills his tone to stay even, as if Jaenara could sense the racing of his heart.

With the door locked behind them, Jaenara instructs her uncle to sit at the armchair in front of the fireplace. Aemond let the flames fan over him, his damp clothes saturating the plush seat beneath him. The princess returns from her bed chamber, a set of weathered clothes in hand.

“Here.” She extends a men’s tunic and cotton pants to Aemond. He unfurls the clothes and Jaenara has to bite back the laughter elicited from the befuddled look her uncle gives her.

“Where…in the Seven Hells did you get these?” Aemond asks.

“I stole them from Jace — quite a while ago actually.”

Aemond scoffs, “You have a hobby of cross-dressing?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well…you are not the only one who apparently enjoys sneaking around King’s Landing.”

Aemond feels as though his head is on the brink of imploding with every word that Jaenara speaks this evening.

“What?”

“If you mean to lecture me once again I truly do not wish to hear it at this hour-”

Jaenara's words are halted by a hand gripping her wrist. She turns to find Aemond standing over her, having risen from his seat. His expression is grave, his eye intense. The smile fades from her face.

“Jaenara, I know you do not mean to tell me you sneak out into the streets at night. You are…you are a woman! You are the princess. And if people — if men — were to find that out, do you know what they would do to you?” Aemond seethes.

She snaps her wrist away from Aemond’s grip. "I have no intention of being found out," she replies tersely.

He gives a wry chuckle and shakes his head, walking back to the fireplace. After a moment of staring at the flames, Aemond looks to his niece once more.

“What do you even do? When you sneak out — where do you go?”

“Where do you go?” Jaenara shoots him a look.

Aemond’s throat goes dry and he looks back to the crackling coals once more.

Jaenara rolls her eyes and retreats to her bed chamber, speaking over her shoulder, “You may change in here. Just leave your wet clothes on the hearth to dry.”

Aemond scoffs. His niece was an unending enigma — one he had not anticipated in the slightest. Though he found himself pleasantly amused by her. Sometimes. And while Aemond felt betrayed by her secret antics, and unnerved by her disregard for her own safety as well as her own reputation, he understood it was presently much too late, and they were much too tired for him to press the issue.

The prince hesitantly begins to peel off his wet layers of clothes. Starting with his long hooded cloak, moving onto his doublet, and then his tunic. Aemond is left only in his pants when he glances at the entrance of Jaenara’s bed chamber. Not even an hour ago he lay in front of a woman completely nude without a worry in the world, but the thought of undressing in the room next to his betrothed made him feel uneasy.

“I am changing…do not come in.” he announces aloud, the words sounding oddly timid.

“I was not planning on it.” Jaenara calls back.

Aemond grunts in annoyance at his niece's persistent cheekiness as he removes his pants and braies. The firelight dances across his body, though he has no time to appreciate the warmth enveloping his bare form. Hastily, he dresses in borrowed clothes, silently thanking the gods that Jace happens to be his size. Aemond clears his throat, a signal to his niece, but receives only silence in return.

“I am done.” He voices the empty room.

He hears the pitter patter of footsteps on stone, and is soon greeted by Jaenara at the doorway of her bed chamber. She is dressed in a white nightgown mostly concealed by a vibrant blue robe adorned with intricate embroidery along the edges. Her hair falls off one shoulder in a braid. The prince tries not to think about the woman undressing only a few feet away from him, leaving herself as bare as he was. Instead, his gaze rests on his favorite shade of Targaryen eyes.

Aemond thinks she is beautiful.

Jaenara regards her uncle, clad in her brother’s white tunic and black cotton pants. The drawstrings of the nightshirt hang open loosely, leaving a window of his bare chest exposed. She struggles to wrench her gaze away from it. His hair hangs loose, and begins to curl ever so slightly at the ends from the rain. The princess allows for a glimpse at Aemond’s covered eye once more, hoping he does not squirm under her gaze.

Jaenara finds him beautiful. As beautiful as a man can be, she thinks.

“Might you sit for a while? Warm yourself by the fire.” She motions to the couch opposite the armchair he previously occupied. Jaenara could tell that something troubled the prince deeply, enough for him to slip out of the castle seeking solace. Though she couldn't pinpoint the exact source of his distress, she was determined to divert his attention from it.

Unbeknownst to her, she was the very reason for Aemond's anguish.

With a huff, her uncle takes his seat. The princess sits next to him, quite near. It was only now she realized the couch was rather small.

Aemond finds himself looking around his niece’s chambers. His eye settled on a pile of books she had surely procured from the royal library. He tries to read the titles in an attempt to discern more of his niece’s interests. His eye settled on: Flora and Fauna of Old Valyria, when Jaenara’s voice pulled him away from the text.

“I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news to share.”

Aemond's concern is piqued by her sudden seriousness. "What's the matter?"

“Well…during the wedding planning today,” Jaenara shifts closer to her uncle, causing their knees to touch, “It was revealed to me that there shall be two additional days of celebration after our initial wedding. These are apparently meant to demonstrate our... commitment to each other and to the realm. It's a way to show everyone the strength of our house."

“Gods…” Aemond groans, “So they mean to parade us around like puppets on a string?” He bites.

Jaenara observes him as he closes his uninjured eye and flexes his knuckles. She considers asking whether spending more time with her in public was truly so objectionable, but opts not to.

Besides, she understood her uncle’s sentiment — they were not trophies to be displayed.

“I knew you would not be happy with it. I am not so fond of it either, really.” She sighs, “I did try to tell Alicent you would not care for the arrangement.”

“She cares little of what I want.” Aemond said evenly, as though the sentiment did not bother him in the slightest.

Is that what troubles him? She wonders.

Jaenara remembers the conversation she shared with Aemond’s mother once more. She ponders if Aemond had said the same thing to his mother when their betrothal was revealed to him. As much as she was coming around to her uncle as of late, she had to keep in mind that she was ultimately one thing to him:

Tolerable.

“Your mother…” Jaenara begins hesitantly, feeling as though she is trekking across ice, “She seems rather…detached from you all. From her children.”

Aemond sneers, light from the hearth rippling across his sharp face, “That may be the understatement of the century, niece.”

Jaenara falls silent, weighing her words carefully and wondering if she has overstepped a boundary. Even in their youth, Jaenara recalled a young Alicent Hightower having a rather strained relationship with her children — as if she were unsure of what to do with them. Though her most vivid memory of Alicent was from the night Aemond lost his eye. The Lady became a woman possessed, demanding retribution for her son. And while Jaenara had been on the receiving end of the vitriol, she understood it to be evidence of the mother’s love for her son and the indignities he suffered.

From the corner of his eye, Aemond watches the princess bite her lip nervously. He is about to scold her for the habit when she turns to him.

“Rhaenyra tells me that by the time Alicent was my age, she already had two babes of her own,” She studies Aemond’s face for any signs of discomfort before she continues, “I believe she cares for you…though perhaps she was never afforded the chance of learning how to show it. Not properly at least.”

The princess swears she sees a flash of anger surface in Aemond’s eye, though it leaves as quickly as it came when he meets her eyes. Now, he just looks sad. The unfamiliar look causes Jaenara’s heart to burn. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it swiftly.

Aemond shakes his head and takes a deep breath before attempting to speak once more, Jaenara waiting patiently at his side. Opening up to the princess seems a more impossible task than claiming Vhagar ever did. It was much easier to confess to the Madam these sorts of things, though perhaps, as Aemond was realizing — that was because he cared for Jaenara more than he could ever care about Sylvi.

And perhaps anyone else for that matter.

Another deep breath.

“I never understood…Rhaenyra — She…She loves her bastard children more than my mother ever seemed to love her legitimate children. Your mother’s love is palpable. It is…real.” Aemond can only manage a whisper. He fears his voice will brim with too much emotion — too much vulnerability.

Jaenara pays no mind to the comment on her parentage. “Alicent’s love for her children — for you — is real, Aemond…My mother bears a scar on her arm to prove it.” Her intense stare falls to his eyepatch, and Aemond almost believes she can see past the covering at the jagged scar underneath. Aemond feels it burn. He has nothing to say.

The princess almost wishes to raise a hand up to her uncle’s cheek and run her thumb across the rough leather — though she knows Aemond would despise the intimacy. And wasn’t she supposed to feel the same way?

Aemond yearns to feel some kind of touch from his niece, though he would never dare to reach out for it. He knew she would shrink away from such amity. He feels shame from garnering such pleasure from fantasies she would not delight in.

The prince savors her eyes a few moments more before rising from his seat.

“It is very late, Jaenara. I should retire for the night.” Jaenara finds her uncle’s voice surprisingly gentle.

Ignoring how his usage of her name made her stomach stir, Jaenara places a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, halting him halfway from the door.

“Do you want to be caught leaving my chamber at such an hour, uncle? How indecent of you.” She hopes that her playful jabs may lighten Aemond’s spirits before he leaves her.

Aemond does not turn towards her, feeling betrayed by the heat that arose in his cheeks.

Jaenara moves to a corner of her room adorned with a grand tapestry depicting King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne at The North. With a gentle sweep, she brushes the tapestry aside, exposing the cool stone wall beneath. Aemond's attention is caught by a section of the wall that appears subtly raised compared to the rest of the room. The princess presses her hand against a specific stone, and Aemond is stunned as the wall starts to shift, unveiling a hidden passageway before them.

She turns to her uncle, flashing him a mischievous grin before pressing her hand against the wall. Gradually, the stone starts to shift, unveiling a secret passageway leading out from the princess's chamber.

"If you follow this path, your chamber should be about... four doors down — I think?" Jaenara says, brushing her hands clean of stone dust.

Aemond finds it impossible to keep his composure at such a revelation. He thought he knew of every winding path behind the walls of the Red Keep, though this had somehow escaped him. What had Jaenara been using these tunnels for?

“What…How — how did you find this?”

“You forget I too lived here in my youth, for a time.” She grins.

Aemond raises a brow, “Now I fear how many times you have spied on me without my knowing.”

“I assure you uncle, I do not partake in such depravity.” Jaenara yawns, sleep beginning to tug at her eyes once more. She steps aside, making a grand gesture towards the tunnel, “I suppose I shall see you tomorrow, to choose my shield.”

Aemond hums and makes his way to the passage. He pauses at its entrance and looks down at his niece. She looks up to him with a sleepy smile. It is then Aemond decides to tell her what he couldn’t that night she followed him out of the Great Hall.

Jaenara’s eyes are barely open when she suddenly feels a gentle hand tuck a loose strand of her braid behind her ear, “Goodnight, Jaenara.”

Her eyes shoot open, barely quick enough to see Aemond retreating into the dark of the winding passage. The prince did not stick around to see if his princess truly would recoil from his touch.

Alone in her chamber, Jaenara wonders how she is to sleep after such a thing.

Taglist: @aleemendoza2425-blog @toodlesxcuddles @marsmallow433 @frozenhuntress67 @deeeeexx

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader

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melon-fodder · 1 month ago

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personal sappy sort of vent but not really? bnha melon origins under cut hahaha

Once upon a time at the start of the pandemic, I was getting back into writing fanfic thanks to bnha. I read some fics on this site, my introduction to ‘x reader’ and I thought to myself “ya know I have a lot of time on my hands, and these people look like they’re having a good time posting these stories, so I’m gonna try”.

And so I did. I wrote and posted a little mirio shot first, and then a shinsou shot, and then I wrote a soulmate AU for Aizawa that gained a little bit of attention followed by an endeavor fic that gained more.

And because it was the pandemic and everyone was online all the time, the engagement was high. My inbox was full of asks about those two, and I just got to talk and talk about them. I made mutuals. I made friends. I joined my first discord server. I kept writing.

@lady-lauren and I started DMing, going from writing to like life stories basically. The paragraphs we were sending back and forth lmao thinking about it makes me laugh. And she introduced me to Nyki, and we all just existed and created and consumed.

There was a lot of toxicity in the bnha fandom back then, though. I mean, there still is, but it was different back then somehow. I had my favorite characters, and Aizawa was a really big one, but I ended up sort of drifting. Or distanced myself, I guess. Because of another writer. The way that they created and interacted with fandom, with characters. It felt… weird to write for him while sharing a space.

Anyone close to me or who has been around for these almost 5 years (omg kill me) might have an inkling about what/who I’m referring to, so I do want to state that in no way was I told to stop writing for Aizawa or that I was bad at it or anything like that. That person actually liked my version of him and told me! So the whole feeling like I couldn’t write for him was entirely self-imposed.

Anyway, a lot of stuff happened that made it harder and harder to enjoy being a part of the bnha fandom on tumblr, including the passing of one of my best friends. I still found inspiration here and there, usually for nighteye, but I was mostly out of it. I even stopped keeping up with the manga after a while.

There’s just so much personal shit wrapped up in a series that’s already full of emotion. I haven’t felt equipped to deal with all of it

Until recently.

I don’t know what clicked tbh. I was at my mom’s recovering from surgery, and I just decided it was time. The epilogue was leaked or whatever and so many blogs that I used to see post every day woke up and started interacting again, even if it was just to comment on the leaks, and it got me so nostalgic and…

I don’t know. A lot of time has passed. A lot of people have come and gone. I feel like… it feels like I don’t have eyes on me anymore. For a long time when I was posting for bnha it just felt like people were watching me with less than good intentions. It’s one of the reasons I’ve switched blogs multiple times.

But I feel better now. I feel safe. I feel a lot more stable than I did back then. Those were kind of wild times on tumblr I do not think I would want to go back.

Except for in this one particular way which is to let myself fall back in love with the series that got me into anime as a whole, the series that got me writing again. The character that made me want to sit down and write again.

I have a few favorites from the series, but tbh I think Aizawa will always be the most special simply because he was my spark. He symbolizes so fucking much for me, and that sounds so dramatic, I know, but he is quite literally the character that got me on tumblr. He was my beginning, and then I felt like I couldn’t even enjoy him for years and it sucked and I just

I’m emotional. I just. Have a lot of feelings from over the span of 4 years that I’m trying to process.

tl;dr: if it wasn’t for bnha and Aizawa specifically I wouldn’t be on this site, and I am very happy to be creating for the series and his character again

#anywaaaaaaay um.#yeah the present-mel days were #they were something lol #and to anyone who has been with me from then til now #who saw the weird shit that was happening within the fandom spaces #if you’ve stuck with me then thank you lol

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humanpurposes · 3 months ago

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There isn't any point to this, I'm just ranting.

Lately, posting fanfiction feels like screaming into the void.

This isn't to say I'm not grateful for those who do interact with my posts. Since I've started posting fanfiction I've gone through phases of having a lot of motivation, having little motivation. Phases of comparing how many notes I get compared to someone else, then reminding myself why I started writing fics in the first place, because I can do exactly what I want with something I write. And I so appreciate all the comments, likes, kudos and reblogs I get on my fics.

There can be a whole load of different reasons why engagement in fandom lately has been not great. Season 2 being a mess, toxicity and petty drama within the fandom, dwindling attention spans, general disinterest in HotD and ASOIAF. I get it. I haven't felt particularity inspired by the latest season, I'm not very 'Tumblr sociable' and tend to stick to a few mutuals, I also haven't been interested in reading as much fanfiction for a few months.

And if someone doesn't want to interact with me or my content, for whatever reason, that's their business and it's completely valid. I don't write to hit a certain number of notes or followers. I write because I enjoy it. I started posting because I thought there might be a few people out there on the internet who might like what I was doing. In a way I have found that, and I know I wouldn't have stuck with writing this long if I hadn't started posting. But I won't lie and say it isn't disheartening when you get nothing or very little back after putting a lot of time and thought into a chapter.

And on top of that, some comments are just... the worst. What goes through someone's head that they feel the need to read a fic they don't like, comment all the reasons why they didn't like it, AND insult a writer who has posted this FOR FREE. We're all doing this as a hobby. The fact that fanfiction is public is not an open invitation to criticise, all you're doing is discouraging people from sharing their works or writing altogether, which damages our community. Fanfiction is not content simply there for you to consume. It's a pure form of creativity (in my opinion), because it doesn't come from necessity or obligation. If you don't like what you're reading, stop reading it. Find something else, or go write a hateful review of an actual book on Goodreads because at least that author got paid.

Or even just people being so stubborn about their dislike of certain characters. I can't tell you how sick I am of people taking the existence of Alys Rivers so personally in fics. Or wishing death upon characters that are clearly central to the plot or main relationship in a fic (why are you reading an Aemond fic if you hate Aemond)??? This fandom can only operate in extremes, apparently. There's no room for nuance or emotional complexity and it's frustrating when someone projects that on a fic.

I don't really have a point to this. Read what you want. Read the tags first. Reblog posts to keep them alive. Ask writers about their fics and OCs. Be nice to people.

#me when i overshare #hotd fandom

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bugeater101 · 2 years ago

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Mismatch

Synopsis: What began as a spa getaway takes a weird turn when Seungmin notices something interesting about the view from his room. Though his interest in the scenery plagued him with guilt, he couldn't help but be consumed by it. Soon, the getaway becomes even stranger when you make an offer he can't possibly refuse. Who is he to say no?

Content: Seungmin x Reader, perv!Seungmin (like a lot omg), Seungmin is so desperate for the reader it's pathetic, a bit of angst (in the setup, which is long), voyeurism, masturbation (m. receiving), teasing, oral (m. receiving), mutual/forced masturbation, nipple play (f. receiving), praise!kink, vaginal penetration, no use of a condom (PLEASE wear protection every time!), creampie, aftercare

Word Count: 9.6 K (I'm sorry)

Author's notes: Okay... first Seungmin fic!!! Y'all better not let me down I literally put my heart and soul into this! A good portion of this fic is the setup but then the smut hits kinda hard ngl. also aggressive use of italics sdfhkjshdk. I barely read over this because I've been reading like 100 pages a day during reading week, so I'm sorry if there are more mistakes than usual! As always, minors do not interact!

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z @taekbokki, @imtoooyoungforthisshit

If there was one word to describe Seungmin, it was reserved. There were other terms, too: devilish, mischievous, stubborn. But "reserved" seemed the most fitting. You, however, were different, and incredibly so. You weren't exactly bubbly, but you were loud—and just as stubborn—as Seungmin. As such, all chances were against you being friends. He, who hated loudness, and you, who despised stiff reservation.

But what could you say? Opposites attract.

The two of you as a duo are fun; it simply works. While Seungmin made snide and humorous comments at the expense of others, you would make his grievances obvious through your boastful laughter that drew all attention to you. And, when you whispered your intense hatred of something to Seungmin, he would nod quickly beside you and support your wrath, giggling slyly. Of course, your relationship was more than just your guys' hot-headedness—though it was just what drew you two together.

Seungmin and you recognized what your relationship was really like: it was the comfort of finally finding someone who understood you, being able to hug someone when no one else's body felt like they fit against yours, or even being able to have someone comprehend an entire sentence held within a mute and fleeting glance. Simply, you two were best friends in the truest of terms.

What complicated the matter was Seunmin's inflexibility. His obtuse nature extended to all parts of his life, and that included his feelings for you.

...well, his lust for you, frankly.

It was insatiable. The chemistry between you two was unmatched, and no one could deny it. Hell, most of your friends thought you were already dating until you laughed at the very notion of dating Seungmin.

And it broke his heart every time you did it.

So, he pushed away every feeling toward you that was not platonic. No, it was more than that. It was not just a mere rejection of his feelings, but an utter renunciation of them. He could not bear to have his heart broken every day by you, with every glance that didn't linger on him or how your touch never seemed to stay for long. So, rather than sidebar his feelings and leave them for another day, another person, or even pretend like one day he will get over them, he instead got mad, furious at the thought of liking you. His desires were replaced by a stern voice that told him "how could she ever like you?" or "no one will ever look at you like you're pretty, like they would want you." The voice sounded eerily similar to his own.

Sadly, this voice made his emotions somewhat okay to control. There were easy days, like the days you were not around or days when you were mad at him. Then there were the other days. Days where he couldn't get you out of his mind, days when you were just a little too nice or dressed a little too scantily to evade his thoughts. Days when the tightness of his pants became unbearable.

Today was one of those days.

The spontaneous overnight spa trip now seemed like a foolish getaway attempt to Seungmin. Originally, he had planned it for just you and him—two friends that longed for a quiet escape from the city and the incessant teasing from close acquaintances. Then the two friends became four, and now it was you, him, and the seven idiots he called his friends.

His emotions were running amuck. He was now stranded—is that the right word for this kind of situation? Stranded? He certainly felt like it. This weekend was supposed to be just you and him. Separate rooms, but still together in the hot springs, getting couples massages, eating lavishly—the works. It was his feeble attempt at obtaining some semblance of a romance with you, even if it was all just pretend. Now seven fools were ogling you while he couldn't even get a second of your time.

Not to mention the logistics issues. Oh, fuck the logistics of this trip. The spa was overbooked and thus added to the absolute disappointment of this weekend. Though he advised that you should get your own room as you were the only girl on the trip, you were adamant about having to be alone while everyone else got a roomie. That's how Seungmin got stuck with you. You two were the closest in terms of friendship, and now he had to share a bed with you. He had to deal with you being so close every night. Just within grasp, your scent flooding his system, so precious and close and just inches away from him. God. This weekend was going to be torture.

Hell, it already was. As soon as the group got to the resort, everyone bolted to get to the hot springs—including you. Yet, Seungmin said he'd rather get settled into his room ("our room" you emphasized with a crafty smile), order room service, and sleep the night away. You pleaded with Seungmin to join you guys, even if you would be in the separate women's section. He just shrugged you off. He needed to be alone, to realize how much of a mistake this weekend was, to wallow in his self-pity while you enjoyed the onsen. At least he had some peace of mind knowing a giant bamboo partition separated you from the men's section and, therefore, the boys. They couldn't stare at you then, enjoying you in a bikini—or less considering this was a rather "traditional" spa. Seungmin was satisfied knowing that they couldn't see you so vulnerable, even if it meant he couldn't either. Plus, you seemed pretty excited about the springs, and even if he was jealous, he wasn't going to try and hold you back.

So, now he was alone. Everyone's rooms were now abandoned, minus their carelessly unpacked luggage. Seungmin, however, had spent the last 30 minutes tediously unpacking, refolding, and placing the three days and three nights' worth of clothes into the sturdy drawers of the spa. What a way to spend 30 minutes. It was late, the sun dusting the horizon and the last light was trickling into Seungmin and your room. He knew you would stay out long considering the water would stay warm and the spa open for hours more, so he knew he had ample time to wash up and make himself at home.

Yet, the darkness of the night made him realize that his room was now on full display due to the open curtains. Upon realizing this, Seungmin grew embarrassed realizing that he was completely visible to the outside world. So, he busied himself by locking the windows, shutting the blinds, and enjoying the views of the spa that he was able to see from his room. When he was all done, he gave a quick scan over the room and noticed something peculiar: he had missed a window! The window was short in height but long horizontally long, sitting above the headboard of your shared bed and allowing the last of the sunlight to coat the room. With a sigh, Seungmin clamoured onto the bed and sat on his knees to fiddle with the drawstrings, hoping to successfully pull the blinds shut in one go.

But he didn't.

And luckily he didn't.

Because that's when he saw you.

He didn't know his room had such a view. A view that made his head spin and his mouth salivate.

He was a pervert but fuck was it worth it. Maybe staying behind was the most brilliant idea he's ever had.

This spa emphasized discretion on its website, saying all guests had complete privacy and that the staff were well trained. Now, he was so happy that had been a lie. This window was practically offering him a view into heaven. In just the smallest edge of the glass, only at an angle, he was able to spot due to his precarious position, he realized he had a slim view of the hot springs. The women's hot springs. And the only woman in his view was you. Completely naked.

He silently thanked the architect of the spa and promised to create a whole religion dedicated to him as the Messiah.

The steam from the onsen had obscured some of his view, but he was still able to sit just strangely enough to see you fully. Your hair was sopping wet from the water, skin glistening with its rejuvenating properties. Every breath you took manifested as clouds above your glowing lips, the stark contrast between the cold air and the hot water evident in the air.

His phone was just across the room, so near and just close enough that he could stumble, grab it, then snap a few pictures. Just a few, and maybe a video, and also a pair of your panties to finish the present to himself.

Regardless, he stayed planted on the bed. He couldn't risk leaving, not even for a millisecond. His eyes absorbed all they could and he prayed his mind didn't erase anything too essential to his survival as it made room for these fucking memories of you. But didn't matter though. If this image—you in the spring, naked and soaked in water with steam clouding, making you appear like a siren—was all that his mind had room for, he would gladly accept a life of stupidly if it meant only carnally thinking of you.

He imagined how perky your nipples must be due to the coldness of the air. Part of him hoped you would tell him later how satisfying the water was on your tits, how its warmth felt like soft lips sucking on your nipples and how the cold air was nipping at the buds. Like if someone was playing with you, desperately trying to make you cum just by latching onto your leaking, raw nipples.

"Please get up, please sit up," he found himself muttering quickly. His knuckles were white as he gripped the windowsill and his jeans constrained him like a cage. "Please, please y/n, baby, please just for me, for Minnie, just sit up."

It was as if you had heard him. Or, if God had finally answered his prayers.

It was just a moment, a simple second where you were readjusting your sitting position. And it was the best second of Seungmin's life. Your chest lifted from the water, droplets cascading down your breasts as they lifted from the water. The frigid air had pebbled your nipples and you slightly shivered as your body emerged from the water. Your tits looked so soft, so sweet and supple that Seungmin seriously thought he could cum just looking at you. His tongue watered at the sight of your flushed skin, imagining what it would look like as he dried you off and applied lotion to you after your bath just to keep you so soft for him. You were so perfect, so sweet and just out of his arm's reach,

Then, just like that, your chest was submerged again, and you were back in the water.

By the time you had sat fully back down, Seungmin was already undressed and stumbling into the bathroom.

That's how he got here, ashamed and pumping his dick as his skin was pricked with boiling water. Hot water poured from the shower head and rained down on Seungmin's frame, coating his goosed skin in heat. Steam had filled the bathroom, fading the glass and leaving the man in a dream-like fog. The warmth did little to satiate his hunger, but it made it so much easier to imagine he wasn't there, to imagine that you were with him. To fantasize that you were "helping" him right now.

He wished that the water from the onsen went right into this tap. If that were the case, he would rejoice in sharing the same water as you, as your tits and cunt and ass and mouth and tummy and thighs. Fuck you were perfect. Seungmin kept imagining you, in the spring, lightly flicking or pinching your nipples. What if you didn't care that other women were in the bath with you? What if you started cleaning your cunt, rubbing the water on the outside before deciding to slip a finger or two in? He was sure there were some definite... aphrodisiac effects of the spring, and surely you couldn't resist them. What if they had begun to suck your tits in front of all those women? Nipping at them and leaving purple bruises, letting the heat of the water touch where his hands couldn't?

The grip on Seungmin's dick was tight and he pumped vigorously, willing an orgasm out of himself as he thought of you below him. Would you be the kind of girl to pump his cock with your chest and suck the tip, or would you use both hands and jack him off? Seungmin's mind couldn't decide and opted to flash between fantasies as he grunted and moaned with each tug. He approached his orgasm quickly, clenching his jaw at the pain of cumming so fast.

"Fuck, y/n, fuck fuck fuck—mmh," he whined through gritted teeth as he finished all over his hands and the wall, cum washing away and being wasted down the drain instead of being swallowed by you.

He tried to catch his breath but the steam had overtaken the bathroom. The heat, additionally, made his sensitive cock twitch, and Seungmin whined a little louder than he was comfortable with. The pitiful orgasm barely satiated him and left his dick red, aching, leaking, and begging for more. His overly needy tip prayed for another release, a stronger one, one that voided all dirty, perverted, fucked-up thoughts in his mind. It was still hard, his cock slapping against his stomach as it leaked cum from his orgasm and precum for the promising next one.

Yet, Seungmin didn't have it in him. Despite the pain of the stimulation he desperately needed making him hiss, he couldn't will another climax out of himself even if he really did try. Plus, he felt dirty. He kept imagining your tits and how pretty they would look pressed against the shower wall, the chilled textured tile and teasing your nipples when he couldn't. While you were pushed against the wall, he'd be fucking you from behind. Desperately rutting into you, ass jiggling with every snap of his hips into yours.

These thoughts continued to run through his head. And though he knew that if he fucked his hand again that they would leave, he couldn't do it. It was already so wrong, so fucking deliciously wrong to spy on you—even if your body did look amazing and the memory of it made him salivate. But, you were still his friend. He didn't want to be this guy, the one who jacked off to the person he was desperately in love with, the one who would rather fuck his friend than try to move on. It was a mistake, a sin even, and one he has committed numerous times. Another tug on his poor dick would just add to his roster, though he knew he was already damned for sure.

So, he shut the water off and let his cock stand proudly against his strained abs, the water on his body instantly turning cold and trickling onto his tip. He seethed at the feeling. Shame mixed with an insatiable carnal desire made him tense, but there was little he could do about it. He simply slid out of the shower, dried off, and slipped on one of the spa's robes, the knot securing the robe as well as his cock as it pressed into his abdomen.

Then he remembered where he was: the monogrammed name of the spa on the robe scratched against his raw skin. And you were sharing a room with him. And you could be right outside the bathroom door.

The thought made his heart drop.

The shower made him lose track of time, and you'd surely be back by now. He hoped you didn't need the bathroom. He hoped, prayed you hadn't heard him if you were out there. Though he was already tense from the guilt, he was now completely stiff (especially his cock) at the thought of you in the room.

However, he knew he couldn't spend all night—all weekend, for that matter—in this bathroom. So, he readied himself to open the door. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The handle was cold against his palm as he twisted the door open.

He was greeted with an empty room. The only evidence of life was his carelessly thrown clothes and the ruffled bedsheets from his voyeuristic adventure.

"Oh, thank god," he sighed under his breath.

"Seungmin!"

"What the—? Fuck!" Bodies toppled over as you launched yourself at Seungmin after hiding behind the door of the bathroom. You had got the better of him and he paid the price, now laying face-down on the floor with you straddling his waist and sitting on his back.

"Got you!" You giggled as you playfully shook his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah," he stammered out. "You—you got me." He was nervous; on edge from the scare, and because his still-hard and dripping cock was pressed against the floor and his ajar robe. Fuck, it must've slipped out when you tackled him. AND FUCK, you're still on top of him! Your hands slid on top of his wrists, playfully restraining him against the wood flooring. But Seungmin felt all but unserious in this situation. Your weight felt heavenly on his back, your chest grazing the back of his head due to your precarious position, making his mind race, and your fat thighs hugged him, making him fantasize about them wrapped around his head while his hungry, wet tongue lapped up your cunt.

Not to mention what you could do to him in a situation like this.

"Get up, Minnie! It was just a joke," you tease with your mouth next to your ear, which he hoped wasn't scarlet red.

"I would get up," he grumbled, "if you weren't pinning me to the ground." He had to compose himself. He had to make it seem like he was normal, like he wasn't just vigorously tugging on his length to the glistening, exposed, vulnerable, beautiful, and soaked body of his friend. Like he wasn't fantasizing about all you could do to him right now. He had to. He had to be normal.

"Okay," your tone suggested you rolled your eyes, but Seungmin couldn't tell. "I'll get off if you hate it so much," you fake-pouted.

Jesus. Seungmin needed to see your lips when you pout like that. They always would push out just enough and would look so swollen and kissable. Too bad he was trapped under you, your plush form, with thighs hugging him.

Then, suddenly, it was lost. Almost as quickly as you had jumped him, he was relieved of the delightful pressure of you pinning him down. He almost wanted to call out, ask you to stay, to trap you under him forever. Instead, he sat up on his knees, making sure to tuck his cock discretely into his robe, and rubbed his neck.

"Jesus, you might've hurt me when jumping on me like that," he groaned. You laughed and jumped onto the bed, bouncing on impact.

"Well, then thank god we're in a fucking spa resort and you can get a massage."

In mirroring your sarcasm, Seungmin rolled his wide eyes and shifted on the ground. He sat with his knees together, protecting his nudity from underneath.

You, however...

He just noticed you. He didn't notice it before but...

Wow.

You were like him. Only wearing a robe. Nothing else, not even anything underneath.

He could tell, your nipples were perking up deliciously under the constrained soft cotton of the complimentary robe. Due to your figure, it was cut short on you. Your robe rested just at thigh-high level and hinted at the possibility of you not wearing panties. Your legs were crossed tightly, too, and the robe had ridden up to expose the part of your leg that just rested under the fat of your bum. The water from the hot spring still lingered in your damp hair and your skin glistened from the spring's refreshing properties. Your whole body looked so tender, soft, ready for Seungmin to bury himself in. You leaned back on your hands, legs still crossed, and studied the dumbstruck boy that sat beneath you.

"See something you like, Min?" You smiled.

"What?!" Seungmin yelped. Were you serious? Was this real flirting? Were you actually saying such suggestive things to him?

Of course not. The laughter that erupted from you was evidence of that. At least he could relish in the sound of your sing-song giggles and then lament in his embarrassment.

"I'm kidding," you chuckle. "You just seemed so out of it!"

"Yeah... I don't know, maybe it's because I've been cooped up in this room since we got here," he stiffly responded.

"Shit, sorry. I knew you wanted to be alone but maybe I should've pushed harder for you to use the spring or something," you pondered. "Maybe I should've stayed and helped you unpack."

No, Seungmin wanted to shout, Please, stay out there. Spend the whole vacation in the spring. Soak your tits until they are red from the water, until they're swollen and sensitive and can't take another second of the heat. Please stay outside my window for me, my own personal little pornstar. Me, just me.

"No, you wanted to use the spring and I needed time alone," he answered quietly.

You nodded. "Is that it? I swear there was something else going on with you today."

Then you uncrossed your legs, still leaning back on your hands. Your thighs hid your cunt, depriving Seungmin of its beauty so he couldn't even sneak a glance.

However, your position made his mind race faster. Maybe he could just pull your legs apart. In this position, he didn't need to untangle your knees to see your pussy. Maybe, just maybe, he had the swiftness to rip your thick thighs away from each other and catch a glimpse of your pussy. He didn't get to see it in the spring. Maybe the water of the onsen made your pussy as beautiful and glowy as the rest of your skin. Maybe it made you tighter, wetter... maybe it was an aphrodisiac and now your body was begging for cock, your glistening and tight hole needing to be filled.

But, Seungmin sat still and your thighs remained clamped shut. He cleared his throat.

"Maybe it was the guys..." he answered honestly. Well, somewhat honestly. Intrigued, you leaned forward and rested your arms across your knees. Oh, great. Now your pussy was secured but your tits were practically falling out of the robe. Seungmin swore that if he nudged you, your nipple would slip out, just for a second. And in that second, the sight of your tender buds would cause him to immediately latch onto them, suckling eagerly in the hopes you would cum just from him playing with you. He tucked his knees tighter against his body to cover his erection further.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, unaware of the state you were putting him in.

"Just that..." His voice trailed off.

"What?" You asked, hoping he would continue,

He took a deep breath and sighed, "I hoped it would be just us. Like, I love hanging out with everyone but also... it can be overwhelming, you know? Especially on a weekend when I'm supposed to be relaxing. That's why I asked you to come. And now... you're stuck with me in this room and I have to calm myself before I get pissed that everyone decided to come on our vacation."

His eyes didn't meet yours the entire time he spoke. Yet, when he did, he noticed how your eyes were formed into small crescents, pressed together due to the light smile on your face.

"Oh, Seungmin," you soothed, "you couldn't get rid of me even if you tried."

Seungmin's cock twitched, because of course it would. Fuck, you were trying to comfort him, and here he was creaming just from a few harmless words. He was hunched over now in a feeble attempt to cover his cock, but you took it as a sign that he was about to cry. The truth is, he would cry if his hot tip wasn't nestled in your mouth within the next five seconds. Nonetheless, you continued.

"I know it can be a lot, but the guys understand that we're here to relax," you continued, voice smooth. "They want us to be calm and chill for a weekend— and especially you. I could hear them talk through the wall of the onsen and they said that they were really worried you didn't join them. They don't need any more pressure on themselves and neither do you. Please don't feel any burden this weekend, okay?"

His head was resting on his knees now, face down. Didn't you realize what you were doing to him? How your kind words and reassuring glances were making him red down to his chest? You were too nice for your own good.

"Thank you," he whispered. Placing his chin on his knees, he displayed his blushed face and let his eyes gaze up at you again. "It's nice to know that they care so much. That you care that much, too." He hoped you would think of his shyness as a result of his emotional vulnerability, not because he was tucking his dripping dick away and staining the spa's robes.

"Of course I care," you sighed, "you're my Seungie, after all." Fuck, when will you stop talking? Seungmin almost whined at that stupid sentence.

"And, for the record," you giggled. "I don't think I'm 'stuck' with you, in any sense of the word." Okay, that genuinely made him embarrassed. Not only were you sexy and slutty and would take his cock so well, but you were cute, too. Fuck, you were unbearable. He almost wished you resented him just so you would leave and, pray, return back to the spring for a late-night soak.

Instead, he opted to tease you, hoping to lighten the mood he had created in his shame.

"Aw, thanks," he layered his voice in a sickly-sweet tone, mocking your fluffy, comforting words. "But I'd like you to leave now."

"Never," you giggled at his joke. "You're stuck with me!"

"No!" He protested half-heartedly.

"Yes!" You were sitting on your knees now, perched in front of him and giving him an ample view down your robe. Please don't move closer, y/n, he cried in his mind. Not another step, I can't do it. Not today, I can't control myself, please.

"N-No!" He laughed louder.

"Yes!" With that word, you sprung off the bed and tackled him once more.

He landed with a thud against the hard ground. You on top of him, chest to chest.

Literally.

His robe had opened up. Yours partly did, too.

Despite the hardness of the fall, he was dead silent, exacerbating the loudness of your laughter. Then, when you realized why his eyes were so wide and what was poking your bear tummy, you stopped. And the silence became deafening.

He made no sound. Neither did you.

Wow. I'm controlling myself much better than I thought I would, Seungmin thought.

You cleared your throat.

"Seungie?" You asked, arms caging Seungmin and holding your upper body above his own, magnetizing your hips to his.

"...yeah?" he responded after a beat.

"...you're..." You couldn't finish your sentence.

"Yeah, y/n?" He murmured, close to you.

"You're... leaking all over me."

His cock twitched involuntarily, making you shut your eyes tight and a slight moan escape him, too.

"...yeah." He groaned.

Yet, neither of you moved. Ragged breaths were the only sound as you both silently argued about what to do. It was as if you were having a whole conversation through your intense eye contact, an unbreakable gaze that spoke of all the possibilities that could come from the situation. It seemed like hours had passed, but it had only been 30 seconds. Seungmin knew it was 30 seconds: he had counted to remember how long he had his cock pressed into you. As pathetic as it was, this was quite possibly the greatest moment of his life. His eyes held yours and grew sharper when you shifted your weight, involuntarily letting your robe slip open more. You were blushing as much as he was now.

"I... I should fix that," you stated silently. "It's cold in here."

"Yeah," he responded dumbly, "anything you want."

You gave him a nod. Still, you didn't move. It took a deep breath and a shift in your gaze for you to finally lean back on your knees. However, your bodies seemed glued together and it made it impossible for you to pull away from Seungmin. Maybe it was because you were scared for Seungmin to see your chest (as if he hadn't already cum to the sight of your tits dripping wet). Maybe it was because you were embarrassed to see his cock. Maybe it was because you and he both knew that if you pulled away, you couldn't help but stare at the other.

Maybe you wanted to look. Maybe he did too.

Your body shifted away from his slowly, your squishy chest leaving him exposed to the cold and, in turn, his nipples stiff. And, to Seungmin's luck, the same was happening to you.

You stared at him. He stared back. While he stared at your chest, your gaze raked down his abdomen. Or, rather, what was pressed against it eagerly.

If Seungmin had been more observant, maybe he would've noticed how his robe had completely unravelled in the midst of things. He would've noticed that his cock was bucking from the frigid air that attacked him without your tummy squishing it. He would've noticed how juices and precum were pooling on the ridges of his abdomen as they dripped from his slit. If Seungmin had been more observant, maybe he would've noticed you licking your lips at the sight.

"Seungie?" You asked, making no move to close your robe. God, the way you said his name. He adjusted his hips at the sound of your voice, rutting them up into the air and whimpering at how his cock isn't hugged by something tight, warm, and wet.

"Yes, y/n?" He said more confidently than he expected.

"Does it..." you gulped, "hurt?"

Part of Seungmin wanted to lie and say "no, sweetheart. It wants you to fuck it raw, but my dick is still fine." He really wanted to play the role of the cocky, sly guy who would pull a smirk as he snapped his hips into yours. But, it wasn't who he was. At least not right now. Right now, he was the kind of guy that would cry if pussy felt too good, tear up at the site of painting someone's cunt with cum. Plus, he couldn't lie. Not now, at least. Not to you.

He nodded vigorously, "So much, y/n."

"Really?" Your voice was laced with concern, yet your eyes were still fixated on the pulsing cock below you.

"Yes," Seungmin continued, voice calm. "So, so much—ah!"

Your index finger began to trace up his shaft, collecting the inordinate amount of juices that flowed from his tip and rubbing them back onto his cockhead.

"You certainly are hard." You were almost clueless with your words. Almost. While Seungmin was writhing beneath you and hopelessly bucking his hips up, cock twitching from the contact, you were just staring in awe at his length. Perhaps it was the size that amazed you, the precum that leaked from his slit, or his sensitivity to your touch. Either way, your eyes were wide, unblinking, and astounded.

"Y-yeah," Seugmin panted, "But, p-please be careful. You're g-gonna m-make me—fuck!"

Your hand firmly grasped around the base of his heavy erection and held it lovingly, pumping the base slowly. You twisted as you toyed with his length and the side of your hand occasionally rubbed against his balls, making Seungmin's whines resemble stuttering, high-pitched mewls.

"Y-y/n," he cried as you maintained your slow pace, "what are you doing?!"

"I've never sucked cock before," you mumbled, seemingly to yourself. "I've always wanted to try, want to see how deep I can take it, where you like to be licked, what makes your dick twitch..." Your voice started to adopt a light tone near the end. You almost sounded giddy, excited at the idea of sucking dick. In fact, Seungmin—with what little thought he had—thought you sounded downright mischievous.

"I wonder how you taste..."

Your hand moved further up and down his length now and Seungmin's moans were surely too loud for the thin walls of the resort. He prayed no one heard, that it was just you and him that knew you were fondling his slicked member and enjoying it too.

"P-please, stop, I-I'll—"

"Cum?" You finished for him, "I hope you do." Seungmin's lips quivered as his eyes welled. How could you be so cruel, stroking him with such a languid pace? It was inhuman how you treated him.

"Y/n," he growled, "d-don't start something you c-can't finish." His anger was creeping up on him. That anger he tries to hide, and unsuccessfully so. However, its effect was diminished by his blubbering, blushing face and exposed cock that eagerly accepted every pump you gave it.

"Oh, I very much intend to 'finish'," you teased, your voice still walking the line between serious and jovial.

"Well, what are you waiting f-for?"

Weirdly, you didn't respond with the same energy as Seungmin had come to expect. Rather, you retreated to that quiet, contemplative state you were in minutes before when you saw his cock. You pondered his words, what you wanted to say, and how well the weight of him felt in your firm grasp. You took a breath in.

"Can I suck you?" You started to move in before he could answer, Seungmin already feeling your hot breath on his oozing tip. Your actions, dually, made Seungmin's anger disperse, revealing—once again—his whining neediness.

"W-what?" He whimpered.

"Just a taste," you said with a smile, your back arching and displaying your ass while your head ducked down. "Just to try, just to see how you feel... wanna see how those veins feel along my tongue."

"Y/n, baby, just slow down—ah!"

When your hot tongue kitten-licked his cockhead before enveloping it in your warm mouth, Seungmin swore it was like his whole life had led to this moment. You worked his shaft desperately with one hand—the same one that was jerking him before, offering the same twisting, slow, and loving strokes— while the other played with his balls, teasing him. Drool and juices dripped from your mouth as the tasty precum leaked more and more from his slit. He tasted so good, just as you dreamed, and it made your mouth water more and more.

"Y/n, god, d-don't stop," Seungmin moaned through panting whines. Your mouth popped off of his cock for a brief moment, blowing cold air on his tip and making Seungmin cry at the sensation. Then, with a quick kiss to his tingly slit, you slid your mouth back down his length and sucked vigorously.

"H-how did y-you get so good at s-sucking cock?" One of his hands weaved into your hair and tugged it at the roots, guiding you further down his length. Though you choked, he persisted, as did you. Soon, his lower abdomen was grazing your nose and he was shallowly thrusting into your mouth, making you gag with every push of his hips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, f-fuck," Seungmin panted. His grip on your hair started to feel like he was petting you, coaxing you through the tears building in your eyes and the pain stitching along your jaw.

"Y/n, I-I'm g-gonna—fuck!" Seungmin stuffed his dick fully in your mouth and shot cum right down your throat, bobbing your head so you could fully milk him of every drop. Considering he had cum just 30 minutes before, the amount of cum that leaked from him was insurmountable. He normally didn't cum that much, but when he pulled his still-hard dick out of your mouth, he was shocked by the amount of semen that layered his cock and dripped from the corners of your mouth.

"Y/n... y/n, are you okay?" He stammered. Seungmin's voice was teetering between control and stiff whimpers as he tried to compose himself. He felt a little awful about how aggressive, how needy and shamefully desperate he was just now. However, you didn't respond.

You stared at him, wide, tear-filled eyes playfully catching his gaze. Then, you stuck your tongue out, showing him the rest of his cum and letting some drip onto your exposed tits. Seungmin groaned at the sight, trying to pitifully lean forward to catch the cum in his mouth. He wanted to hold your jaw open, make you spit the rest of his cum onto your bare torso just so he could lick it off. Instead, he hummed with anguish as you tilted your head back and swallowed each and every drop of his semen.

"Now," you said with a hoarse voice, wiping your slicked mouth with the back of your hand. "Are you feeling better, Seung? How did I do?"

God... tell me... how could she act like this? Seungmin cursed the creator for making you so cute, so fucking perfect at taking cock. Had you learned from all those videos Seungmin saw in your browser history? Had you practiced on those colourful dildos he found hiding under your bed that one time? Either way, you knew what to do, and you were damn good at it.

"Yeah, y/n," he answered, chest still rising and falling heavily as rushing blood continued to keep him stiff, "s-so good."

You grinned, content with yourself and his response.

Then, Seungmin started to smirk.

"However..." that word and his expression made your heart drop. Seungmin chuckled.

"You didn't finish the job." Seungmin's hand reached up and extended his index finger, slowly dragging it up and down his pulsing dick. He took in a shaky breath and the action, but he continued nonetheless. He needed to prove a point. He needed to show you he could control himself, that he wasn't the kind of guy that would tuck his cock into his robe just because he was around a pretty girl. He needed to show you he was still that controlled guy you knew, and that you were still the spontaneous, bratty slut he knew. He needed to show you who was calling the shots.

"How could you leave me like this, y/n?"

"B-but, I—"

"Don't play fucking dumb with me." Your playful demeanour had completely abandoned you. Seungmin's voice was cocky, teasing, and almost mocking the way you were just moments ago.

"I can't believe you didn't live up to my expectations," he tsked. You played with the hem of your robe, blushing profusely and—once again—eyeing his hard-on.

Seungmin sighed, "Get on the bed, y/n."

"W-what?!" You asked, still stunned. Seungmin's hand suddenly stopped stroking his length and his eyes shot to you. His face was stern and he was ... angry? You couldn't place the emotion. All you knew was it made you shiver and painfully aware of how wet you had become.

"Get. On. The. Bed." His tone was patronizing and agonizingly attractive. He eyed you, his expression hinting at the consequences you would face if you were to misbehave. Despite being prone to disobeying him, his patronizing voice seemed to hypnotize you. Somehow, your body seemed to already rise to the bed and settle on the tightly made sheets.

Seungmin moaned, "Good." After all the torment you put him through, his voice was finally so sure, so stable.

As you sat on the bed, staring down at the boy, you bit your lip and fidgeted, nervous under his gaze. While enjoying your torment, Seungmin stood slowly and let his robe fall to the ground, showcasing his somehow still-hard cock as it arched against him.

He nodded to your clothes, "Take your robe off, y/n." He demanded you disrobe as if your tits weren't already on display, as if they weren't smeared in his cum. Still, you obliged, sliding the soft cotton off of you and shivering as it tickled your skin. The robe pooled around you before Seungmin leaned forward and snatched the bunched fabric, throwing it aside and leaving you sitting bare.

"S-Seungmin," you mumbled as your face grew warm. Your hands started to move to cover your body, embarrassed as your tits perked under his stare.

Seungmin chuckled, "Go ahead. Cover yourself." His words shocked you and made your blush grow, embarrassed by the very attempt of preserving your innocence. "You look so cute trying to act all embarrassed, as if you weren't choking on my cock and enjoying it just minutes ago." He started to saunter towards the bed, hand gripping his base and giving it a stiff tug.

"Why don't you cover your cunt, too?" He panted out.

"What?!" His terminology shocked you, the vulgar word sounding like honey as it dripped off of his tongue.

"I said," his voice grew, as did his sarcasm, "cover your fucking pussy up. Don't you want me to not see it? Like you weren't practically begging me to fuck your tits earlier as you licked my cock? You're already soaking our sheets, anyways." He stood over you now, right at the edge of the bed.

"Use your hand. Go on. Cover your tight pretty little pussy with your fingers. Why not put some in there so I don't see anything? Stuff yourself full and make sure to stretch it open so I don't see any of your sweet juices leaking out." He leaned forward over you, letting one hand pet your cheek with the other took your hand and guided it down your naval towards your cunt. "How about you finger your clit, too? You know, just to make sure I know where not to touch." You whimpered at each of his words, softly rutting into the crumpled bedsheets.

"I'm such a good friend, after all. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable with me licking your sensitive little clit and finger-fucking your hole. You should do it yourself, then. You know, just to make sure I don't." The last of his words were emphasized with him forcing your own fingers into your cunt.

"S-seungie!" You cried as he guided two of your fingers in and out of your pussy, his own teasing your entrance as he directed your hand.

"Yeah, just like that," he gasped, "use your other hand, too. Touch your clit, do it." He forced your other hand down onto your cunt and you automatically began to play with your clit, moans pouring from you as you pinch your eyes shut. "Keep—fuck—keep going, you are doing so good."

"Like that?" You asked, forcing your eyes open to look into his. His eyes were enamoured with you, like he was seeing the stars in the night sky for the first time.

"So good for me," Seungmin said, barely registering your question. "Y/n, babe, you are so good for me." He clamoured onto the bed now, trying to not seem so desperate as he sat behind you.

"Seungmin?" You whimpered out as you kept your hands at the pace he ordered you to maintain.

"Just keep going," he assured you as he let his legs cage you, pressing his chest into your back and his cock into the curve of your ass. "Just gotta make sure you stay covered, hmm?"

"Seung—min, fuck!" You moaned as his hands dragged tantalizingly slow from the sides of your chest to your nipples, sliding under your arms and holding you close to him. So close you could feel him leak all over your back, whimpering as fluids continued to push out of his sensitive cock.

"D-don't you wanna stay all pure and covered, y/n?" He hummed as he pushed his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent invaded him and fogged his mind, making him abandon his teasing efforts and instead firmly grab your tits.

"Fuck!" You yelped, briefly stopping your movements. Seungmin growled at your cessations and traced his teeth along your neck.

"Keep going," he demanded as his grip softened and he started to paw your breasts. "Don't ever stop. Go faster, even." And, like the obedient slut you were, you obeyed. Your increased pace made your breath hitch and your legs push together. However, you didn't dare stop. Not when you were this close, not when Seungmin was begging you to continue.

"Seung— Seung," you stammered, "I-I'm getting close, d-don't stop, mmh!" Seungmin licked the conch of your ear then moved to bite and tongue the lobe.

While you worked your cunt, his hands expertly twisted, pulled and flicked your nipples. He kept imagining your tits as they were coated in water, but then realized you were real, that this dream was happening and he could simply see your tits up close, how he's always wanted.

You started to bounce on your fingers, eagerly sucking them into your cunt as you whined in his arms. The act made your tits jiggle in Seungmin's palm. He groaned at the sensation, hissing at how your chest felt as good as he dreamed of.

"Cumming, cumming, I cum, Seungie," You whimpered, your voice harmonizing with the wet sounds that came from you eagerly rubbing your clit and stuffing your pussy.

"Cum, y/n," he whispered into your ear in a joyous tone. "Make the bed all sticky and wet... covered in your cum. Ruin these sheets. They're not ours, anyways. Cum all over them."

Your moans grew higher and higher pitched before you became silent as your orgasm took over you. Your fingers twitched as they tried to push you through, and with Seungmin still pulling at your nipples, you had lost all control.

"Fuck, fuck..." you panted as you felt your hands become sticky with cum. Seungmin chuckled, rubbing his fingertips along your sides and causing your skin to develop goosebumps. You collapsed into him as your legs quivered. Seungmin, in turn, saw his opportunity and took it, offering you soft kisses to your neck while one hand trailed lower and lower. Suddenly, he started tracing your clit hard and fast, causing you to convulse.

"Seungmin—Seung d-don't," you mewled as you tried to push his hand away, unsuccessfully so. He laughed as you tried again, this time managing to shoo his hand away from your pulsing clit. Instead of continuing to pester you, Seungmin allowed his now-soaked fingers to rest on your thigh, squeezing the fat and keeping you open while his other hand massaged your chest.

"So, so good for me," he mumbled happily as your breathing settled. As you regained sentience, you slowly became aware of Seungmi's position. More specifically, how his painfully hard cock had leaked all over your backside. You gasped, making Seungmin release another laugh.

"I see you've realized," he hisses as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. "I still have plenty of more plans for your wet little cunt, Y/n."

Then, with his tightened grip, Seungmin effortlessly forced you onto the bed, pressing your back against the ruined and moist sheets.

"Seungmin!" you yelped. The boy clamoured over you, forcing your legs wide apart and then settling them around his waist. He sat on his knees, pumping his erection as he stared at your tits and your drenched hole that clenched around nothing. The pinches and flicks had turned your nipples raw and sensitive, so swollen from Seungmin's hopeless touches. God, Seungmin was a lucky, lucky man today.

"Look at you... I'm so glad you played with your pussy for me. You're all stretched out now and ready to take my cock, hmm?" Your fucked-out eyes could barely meet his, more interested in the languid strokes he is offering to his used cock. You wondered if he had jacked off today, if that was why he was so red and swollen. Either way, Seungmin was a sight to behold.

"I wanna ask you something," he questions as he maintains a steady pace. You nod vigorously, your hands rubbing up and down his arms and trying to bring him closer to you. You just wanted a kiss from him, to feel him close, to taste his spit and sweat like an animal who just needed to fuck. To hell with his questions. However, he persisted.

"How did you get so good at sucking cock, y/n?"

Your actions suddenly stopped as you stared up at him. However, he didn't say anything. His hand rubs your thigh, coaxing an answer out of you.

"P-practiced," you whimpered out. Seungmin chuckled. He seemed to like that answer.

"Yeah? You practiced?" He teased, "What did you do to practice, honey?" His hot tip met your folds and dragged your cum along your pussy. Your hole clenched around nothing, spasming from the overstimulation. It was like torture and you couldn't hold back your moans.

"Aw, c'mon, y/n!" Seungmin groaned, "I've been waiting to stuff my cock into you, and I will once you answer my question. How? Did? You? Practice? Sucking? Cock?" Each word was emphasized by his cockhead slapping against your clit, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds.

"I—fuck— I" you stuttered out, barely able to control yourself. "I-I-I did it on my dildos—b-but I was always good! Always... I... I a-always th-ought of Seungie... only wanna suck my Minnie's cock..."

"Really?" Seungmin continued to tease you. Yet, his voice had something else in it. Though he was mocking you and wanted to ridicule your dishevelled state, he was also hopeful. Hopeful that you were telling the truth, that you wanted this as much as him. He practically prayed every night for you in the most unholy and unorthodox of fashions.: fast strokes on his spent cock, used fleshlights, sticky hands... were you praying in the same way? And for the same thing?

"Fuck, Seungmin!" You cried out of suffering, "Could you not tell by the way I practically milked m-my tits for you in the s-spring?"

Seungmin suddenly stopped his actions, the head of his dick still soaked in your juices and pressing into your clit, making you squirm.

"Is that true?" You gave him a small nod, almost as if you were unaware of the words that just slipped out of your mouth. "How did you know?"

You rolled your eyes as if he wasn't towering over you. "B-because I s-saw our window looked out to the s-spring... and the whole time I w-was t-trying to g-get your attention..." You blushed and looked away, "You're already staring at my chest all the time..."

Seungmin was in awe of you. Truly. You... you had exceeded every desire he ever had. How could he resist you? Your cunningness? The sweet, drenched pussy between your thighs? He rested on one of his elbows and moved his hand to cup your cheek.

"You put on that little show for me? Just to get me hard?" He asked as he resumed dragging his fat cock through your folds. You nodded meekly, suddenly so embarrassed and insecure from the sweet gesture. Seugnmin smiled.

"Such a good fucking girl."

He slid his cock into your sopping pussy, juices leaking as his cockhead submerged itself in your cum.

"Seungmin!" You whined as his girth stretched your worn pussy. He immediately set a fast pace, trying to chase a high that will exhaust him and that will finally relieve the strain of his flushed length.

"S-so, fuck, so so g-ood." Seungmin tried to say more, he really did. Yet, he couldn't. Not when the squelching sounds of him stuffing your drenched cunt was like music to his ears, not when you were moaning so loud that the boys in the other room would hear, and not when he had been waiting forever to do this.

"S-stuff me," you whimpered, locking your legs around his waist and wrapping your arms around his neck so he could push deeper. "Fill me up, Seungie, fill me up—fuck!"

"Y/n, God," Seungmin panted in a high-pitched voice. "So—wet—for—me—gonna—cum." Each word was matched with an aggressive thrust of his dick into you, making you moan as he prodded that gummy part inside of you. He looked down at you and met your eyes, immediately captured by their glow of love and adoration. The slight eye contact did something to him, as if it returned all romance to his carnal instinct. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly into yours, whimpering and whining into your mouth while he buried himself in you.

"Touch my c-clit," you begged between kisses. Seungmin obliged, moving his hand between your sticky bodies and vigorously rubbing your maltreated bundle of nerves.

"F-fuck, shouldn't have done tha-t," he whimpers, "you f-feel too good, now. C-clenching a-round me." Nevertheless, he continued to finger your clit and picked up the pace of his thrust. The way your sensitive tits pressed against him made his head spin, the fat of your chest making him imagine how good his cock would look buried between them. He ducked his head down briefly and began to suck and nip at your sensitive breasts, slobbering over them like a dog. You hissed at the sensation, pulling at his hair in an act of encouragement.

"Hmph!" You moaned, "Seungie, I think I—"

"Me, too, baby, me too." Seungmin was almost embarrassed by how fast he was gonna cum. Almost. If it wasn't for you whining beneath him and begging for his cock, then maybe he would feel differently. Instead, he urged his body to chase his high and help you reach yours. He whined as he continually pistoned his cockhead into you, pulling himself up to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"I'm—I'm—I—" he stammered as the buzzing in his body grew to be dizzying.

"Please cum inside, please cum inside," you repeated like a mantra as you pulled him tightly to you.

"Fuck!" Seungmin cried as he offers one last harsh push into you. As his cock starts to spurt cum, the feeling of fullness caused your body to seize and your back to arch. Your cunt squirted around Seungmin's cock, coating it in cum while his orgasm shook his body.

"Y/n, y/n, my good girl, my y/n," he mumbled sleepily as he continued to offer small ruts into you. With a few more snaps of his hips, Seungmin sat up and enjoyed the white ring you left around his—thankfully—softening length. The sounds of him re-stuffing you with his finished length made you mewl and Seungmin hiss. He slowly stopped his motions and pulled away, enjoying how the cum mixture poured out of you. He smiled to himself, content with the sight and the fact that his cock was finally (finally) no longer hard, that his balls were empty, and that you were satisfied.

"Do you feel good, y/n?" He asked as he caressed your legs. However, you were too fucked-out to respond. In an effort to elicit a response, Seungmin pinched the flesh and earned an annoyed, pained groan from you.

"There you are," he laughed.

"S-stop," you mumbled as he leaned down and pressed loving kisses to the side of your face.

"Oh, before you were showing off your tits publicly just to get my attention, but now you can't even accept my kisses." Your eyes went wide as you remember your confession, slapping him lightly repeatedly out of humiliation.

"Ah! Hey, c'mon, you liked it," he teased as he stepped away. He was gone momentarily before he returned with a damp, warm cloth and began to press it over your vulva, cleaning your leaking pussy. "You liked it, just like how you like me."

You blushed and looked away, unable to make eye contact. Almost as if his caring act and physical contact made you embarrassed, but in a loving way.

Huh. Maybe you two were more alike than he realized.

"You like me too," you responded meekly, emphasizing the word in the same fashion as Seungmin.

He was quiet. Seungmin continued his ministrations, though. He pressed the warm cloth softly on you, staring at the stains on the bed, the redness of your thighs, and then up at your face. Your expression was hard to place, but there was something in it that he automatically recognized. It was always in your eyes, but especially now. It was even feverish in its presence. It made him feel that certain way that he often felt so ashamed of. Now, he realized that feeling was what caused him to fall for you. It was so present now, so easily noticeable. He sighed, taking your hand softly, making your eyes go wide. He was not normally this affectionate, this attentive. He was not this openly loving. It made your heart skip a beat as if he wasn't just buried in you. You looked up at him and saw something in his eyes that reflected that very expression in your own.

"Yeah, I do like you," he responded. "I really do."

#skz smut #stray kids smut #seungmin smut #kim seungmin smut #seungmin x y/n #stray kids seungmin #seungmin x reader

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