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yangfleurs · 1 year

Text

stray kids reaction: they call you clingy

maknae line

pt.2

(hyung line pt.1 is here)

jisung

what you liked most about being with jisung was that it was never complicated with him. you two seemed to always be in tune with each other, knowing when to keep your distance and when to show your affectionate sides. but you knew jisung was an introvert, through and through, and there was nothing he loved more than his time alone. and so you left him to himself when he needed you to; you and him both knew it was good for couples to have their own lives and interests outside of each other.

it was one of those days with jisung, where he needed to spend some time with himself to recharge so he could be his best self at work the next day. you didn’t mind, obviously; you were a busy person yourself, and between school and work, there really wasn’t any time for you to let loose with jisung today anyway.

you spent practically the entire morning after breakfast sat on the living room floor and glued to your laptop, fervently typing away on a paper you definitely should’ve started earlier. but if you pushed through it the whole day and only took a few short breaks, you were sure you’d be done by midnight. you were ready to take your first one of those planned breaks to make lunch and eat, but a wave of laziness washed over you. you didn’t feel like cooking at all, not after pouring your brain’s contents into your work for so long. you started convincing yourself you could work through your designated lunch break and just eat a big dinner when jisung came out of the bedroom, bundled up in his puffer jacket.

“I’m going to the convenience store.” he grumbled out, shuffling towards the door.

why didn’t you think of that? you could grab some cheap, prepared food to eat there, while also getting some fresh air on your skin and a little bit of time to spend with jisung. “let’s go together! I need to grab something to eat, too.” you said, rushing to your bedroom to grab your own jacket. you quickly scrambled through your closet, finding your own puffer, before heading back into the living room. when you came back out though, jisung was nowhere in sight. you figured he was just downstairs and hurried to throw on your shoes so he wouldn’t grow impatient waiting for you. if there was one thing jisung hated, it was waiting, you thought to yourself as you skittered down the stairs.

when you got out of your building, jisung was already walking towards the direction of the convenience store, clearly not waiting for you. you ran to catch up with him, a little embarrassed at how he left you behind.

“hey, why didn’t you wait? I literally only took two minutes.” you mumbled, a little bummed out by his attitude.

“I wanna get back to my show, y/n.” he said with an over-exaggerated sigh which made you roll your eyes.

“you’re always so serious about your shows, it’s cute.” you giggled a little, leaning towards him and reaching for his hand. just as you were about to hold it, he briskly tucked his hand into his jacket pocket, keeping his eyes straight ahead and away from you. you coughed a little and turned your face the other direction to hide the humiliating red crawling up your neck and onto your face.

you arrived at the convenience store in complete silence, immediately going your separate ways to grab your food. you grabbed a triangle kimbap for lunch and then a ramen you could make quickly later in the night for dinner. you made yourself an iced coffee too, hoping some caffeine would help you focus in on your work and ignore the tension between you and your boyfriend. you found him already at the counter, putting his things down. you put your things down to the side of the counter so you could search for your wallet. you pat around your pants and then your jacket, but you don’t feel it anywhere on you.

“shit, shit, I forgot my wallet.” you groaned.

"we’re together.” he muttered, pushing your things with his and handing the employee his card. you thanked him quietly, hiding your smile by looking down. there was your jisung, considerate and always looking out for you.

“you forgot your wallet on purpose, didn’t you? y/n, I know you’re on the clingier side, but don’t you think that’s too much?” he huffed as he waited for his card to go through, “I asked for literally one day on my own and you just had to follow me to the convenience store and then you just conveniently didn’t remember your wallet? seriously?” he rolled his eyes.

you were stunned, to say the least. the employee looked at you both awkwardly, coughing a little and turning away so she didn’t embarrass you. but it was too late for that; as he started to put the food in his bag, you yanked him by the arm to turn him to face you. he looked at you, completely bewildered at your aggression. you didn’t care, though---if he got to give you an earful, you should return the favor.

“who do you take me for, jisung? god forbid I forget my wallet while rushing out to catch up with my boyfriend who’s running away from me like I’m some sort of fucking plague,” you seethed, “I haven’t eaten in hours, jisung. I’ve been working my ass off, not once even trying to talk to you. I am not as obsessed with you as you’ve deluded yourself into thinking.” you spat, shoving your food into his arms. “and since you’re so concerned about the what, ten dollars, you had to spend on me? take the food. I just lost my appetite.”

you walked out of the convenience store and away from him in the opposite direction, so you could both hide the tears that you were bound to spill as well as to go anywhere but back to your shared apartment.

you headed to your school, figuring you could finish your paper at the library there. you had already wasted so much time, and an all-nighter was soon going to be inevitable. you also knew you had a limited amount of energy left in you on an empty stomach, hearing it growl as you thought of your situation. you quietly groaned, sniffling as you trudged along. you’d kill to just have your boyfriend comfort you and support you through this grueling assignment, but instead, you were burning with humiliation at being berated by him in front of a complete stranger.

you walked slowly, counting your steps and hoping you’d hear jisung’s heavy footsteps running to catch up with you any moment now. but that moment never came, not even after you’d barely walked half a block in fifteen minutes. you had both, literally, parted ways. and it made you wonder if it symbolized something more than just a small argument.

felix

you were walking backstage to meet your boyfriend, felix, and his members to cheer them on for their final music bank performance of the season. this was a tradition for you; at the end of all of their final comeback performances, you would bring them as well as their staff a well-deserved, expensive meal to end the comeback strongly. it wasn’t burdensome for you; if anything, you were always thankful to them for taking care of felix and you wanted to express your gratitude through feeding them some delicious food.

you walked in clumsily, stumbling a little as the boys’s manager let you past security. you greeted him politely, handing him the food that was meant for him and the staff. you greeted the staff as well, bowing deeply at all of them like you always did; you knew they were practically family to your boyfriend, so you treated them with as much respect as you would his actual family. you turned to their manager again to speak.

“I’ll take the food for the boys in myself.” you let their manager know with a smile. he nodded, thanking you for the food for the millionth time before freeing up the hallway for you to go down. you bowed one last time before heading to the waiting room. as you turned the corner, you saw changbin coming from another direction .

“oh, hey y/n!” changbin waved, immediately grabbing the heavy bags out of your hands. “I just got out of the restroom, let’s head to the waiting room together.” he said, smiling. you nodded, thanking him for his help. you both chatted as you walked down the hallway, catching up on each other’s lives and listening to him explain how excited they were about upcoming plans for the group. you listened with a smile, making a note to bring it up to felix later when you got some time to talk to him in the waiting room.

you made it to the door of their waiting room first, and noticed the door was left slightly ajar. you overheard a familiar voice, chan’s, addressing your boyfriend.

“so how are things with y/n?” you heard chan ask felix. “she should be coming with the food any time now. she’s so sweet.” you smiled at his compliment. you shushed changbin as he caught up with you; you needed to hear what felix would say.

“well...she’s clingy for sure.” he chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated someone who needed this much attention, hyung.”

you were taken aback. is that what he thought of you? were you just some needy, clingy person pestering him for his attention all the time? you were a little embarrassed, but not nearly as much as you were hurt. you and felix both loved each other’s attention, you couldn’t believe he would say something like that. you gulped, grabbing changbin’s arm and heading backwards to the corner you had just turned.

“y/n, I’ll talk to him.” he said, distressed. you knew changbin, and you knew he would try to fix the situation like the good friend he was.

“no, you won’t. you’re going to tell him I was busy today and only had time to drop the food off. I’ll figure it out later, okay?” you said in a rush, wanting to get out of the building. the whole place suddenly felt suffocating, you couldn’t stand being there, somewhere you clearly weren’t wanted. you didn’t want felix to think you were any more needy than he already thought you were. your insecurities were slowly creeping in on you, and it was distressing.

changbin hesitated but finally relented when you promised you would talk to felix about it when he came home tonight. you practically ran out of the corridor, giving nothing more than a cursory bow and goodbye to the staff and manager, shabbily covering most of your face with your hand to hide that fact that you were on the verge of crying.

you got into your car and let yourself let go. the tears flowed freely, and you had no intention of stifling them. your relationship with felix was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced. you adored how attentive he was to you---he never, not once, missed a birthday or anniversary. he was the first person to congratulate you when you passed your exams, and the first one to comfort you when you didn’t. there was never a moment when you were both home that he wasn’t following you around, trailing you even to the bathroom sometimes just so he wouldn’t be apart from you. you loved it and you thought he loved it, too. and the attention wasn’t one-sided, either---otherwise, you wouldn’t have even come here, arms overflowing with expensive food for practically everyone that interacted with him.

you sighed, satisfied with the release of emotions, and wiped your eyes carelessly. you drove yourself home, not even bothering to listen to the radio or try to calm down from your rush of feelings. you got home, unlocking the door and plodding into your apartment, feet feeling weighed down by how heavy your mood had become. you chugged a whole glass of water; all that crying had made you thirsty---and exhausted. you slid your jacket off and onto the ground before plopping down right there on the couch, not even bothering to change or wipe your makeup off. you didn’t want to do anything except stop thinking about the words your boyfriend had said about you to his friend earlier. you drifted off to sleep just like that, with mascara tears and a broken heart.

seungmin

there were a lot of things that went unspoken between you and seungmin. that was one of the best parts about dating him---you could both show your love for each other in the way you were most comfortable with. for both of you, that happened to be doing things to make the other’s day a little easier.

seungmin took the trash out early in the morning so you wouldn’t have to do the heavy lifting on your own. you made him his coffee before he left. you would order lunch to where he was, whether it be the company building or at the dorm with the boys, in advance so he wouldn’t have to bother with cooking anything. he would stop by during your lunch break at work with your coffee order and a small bite to eat in case you didn’t pack food that day. he has your favorite show ready to play as soon as you’ve washed up after work and you’re always ready to greet him with open arms after a long and tiring day at practice.

you both anticipated what the other needed, and that made you guys always in tune with each other. you’d never even had a serious fight, the worst one being a five-minute quarrel about seungmin buying the wrong shampoo on your grocery list, which was easily resolved by him driving to the store after work and exchanging it for the right one.

tonight, you knew seungmin would come home exhausted. he had practice from sunrise to sunset, with only a short break here and there to eat or use the bathroom. the choreographer for the comeback they were preparing for was one of the best, but she was known for being incredibly detail-oriented (which was, of course, what made her the best), and according to your friend and seungmin’s, hyunjin, she was especially keen on ironing out all the tiny mistakes seungmin was making. she was the reason your boyfriend was exhausting himself for endless hours and the reason he was going to come home tonight like a walking corpse.

you stuck a gatorade in the freezer to chill it quickly, knowing he would need the reminder to replenish himself. you warmed up the food on the stove, laid out his sleep clothes on the bed, and started cleaning up your home so the both of you could head to bed right after you both ate dinner and he showered.

you started putting your hair up and walking back to the living room after washing up yourself when you heard the jingling of keys outside of your front door. seungmin was home.

the door creaked open and seungmin came in, looking pale and drained of life. he didn’t greet you, which you didn’t blame him for---you knew he just wanted to get his rest as soon as possible.

“hey seung, rough day?” you asked gently, earning a passing grumble as he walked straight past you to the bathroom. you sighed, walking to the kitchen to fix him a plate and pulled out the gatorade so he could eat quickly. he could be as moody as he wanted, you weren’t about to let your boyfriend go to sleep without dinner, especially after the hours of choreography he had just gone through.

the water droplets of the shower softly padded against the walls of your apartment for a couple of minutes before it was quickly shut off. seungmin stepped out right after, lazily drying his hair with a towel as he walked straight into the bedroom. you hummed, waiting for him to come back after changing into his sleep clothes. but a couple minutes soon became ten, which soon became fifteen. you got up from the sofa and walked into the bedroom, worried as to what was taking him so long. you found him lying in bed, scrolling through his phone.

“coming to bed?” he mumbled, not looking up from the screen.

“I made dinner and put out some gatorade for you, come eat.” you said, tugging his leg a little as a sign for him to get up.

“not hungry.” he sighed, turning a little in bed.

“come on, seung. I know you and you definitely skipped lunch to practice more. you need to eat well if you want to do your best tomorrow.” you told him firmly but gently so he knew you were serious.

“why are you so pushy, y/n,�� he rolled his eyes, “you’re not my mom. I’ll eat whenever I want.”

you cringed a little at his rudeness but persisted. “seungmin, just eat something. and then we’ll go to bed, it’s not that hard. just do it for me?” you asked.

“oh my god, you are so pushy and clingy. please just leave me alone, you don’t need to always be on my ass.” he groaned, turning off his phone, and turning his face into the pillow.

you were bewildered. seungmin knew you were the type to look out for him; if anything, he should be sympathizing with you, considering he would’ve done the same for you after a rough day. his words felt like being slapped, the hurt fresh and confusing. you turned around and left the room.

“where are you going? can we please just sleep.” he whined.

“I’m sleeping on the couch, I do not want to be next to you right now.” you muttered, heading to the living room.

“seriously? dramatic much?” he groaned, “whatever, suit yourself.” he mumbled turning off the bedside lamp to sleep. you sighed, closing the door behind you.

you covered the food you had ready for seungmin before plopping down onto the couch. you pulled the living room throw blanket on top of you and tried to fall asleep. your legs were cramped together on the too-small couch and your neck was in an awkward position that you knew would hurt in the morning but all you could do was accept your fate and sigh. you shuffled a little, closing your eyes tightly. but with seungmin’s words still reeling in your mind, you knew there was no way you would be getting any sleep tonight.

jeongin

jeongin was your best friend as much as he was your boyfriend; teasing and poking fun at each other was a natural part of your relationship. it wasn’t uncommon for you to take light jabs at each other; you both knew not to take it too seriously---or to take it too far.

it was an unusually quiet evening at the dorms. a bunch of the guys had gone out for a drink and dinner, save for jeongin, who stayed back to spend time with you. you guys were sitting on the couch, stuffed to the brim with a bunch of takeout---you had gotten a promotion at work and jeongin was keen on celebrating. jeongin laid down in your lap with a whiny groan.

“remind me to never order food on an empty stomach ever again.” he mumbled into your lap, making you giggle.

“thank you for treating me, baby.” you hummed, running your fingers through his hair.

he shot up to look you in the eyes and smiled sweetly, pulling your face closer to his and kissing you gently.

“ew, jeongin!” you heard felix yell from the door.

“in the living room? our innie’s an adult!” lino laughed.

jeongin practically flew to the other side of the couch. neither one of you had heard the door unlock and open, nor had you seen all the members pile into the room.

“he has a way of surprising people,” you chuckled a little, patting him on the cheek, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, be right back.” you winked at him as the red on his cheeks only grew brighter from your teasing.

you headed to the bathroom at the end of the hallway, laughing to yourself thinking about the hell the members were probably giving jeongin right now. you quickly used the bathroom and cleaned up your appearance a bit before you headed back. you straightened out your clothes as you walked back. before you turned the corner, you heard jeongin’s voice loudly defending himself to the boys.

“and besides, y/n’s super clingy and needy for attention. she wouldn’t have left me alone until I gave her a damn kiss! leave me alone, you guys are the worst.” he huffed angrily.

“so you’re just going to make shit up about me and blame me for a kiss you initiated? what, so your friends won’t tease you a little? grow the fuck up.” you rolled your eyes, feeling the irritation start to make your skin burn.

he sat there silently, not even bothering to correct himself or apologize. the boys dispersed immediately, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of your (albeit justified) explosive temper. you scoffed at his immaturity, turning for the door and angrily shoving your feet into your shoes and grabbing your coat off of its hanger.

“call me when you decide to stop acting like a dumb kid who can’t handle his friends seeing him act like a boyfriend to his girlfriend.” you spat. you slammed the front door behind you, still coming down from the adrenaline rush your confrontation with jeongin gave you. it hurt you; how could jeongin of all people make you into a needy, annoying girlfriend? all of that, for what? to save face in front of his friends? you sighed, deciding to just head home to your apartment and call it a night.

#skz angst #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz headcanons #skz imagines #skz reactions #stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids reactions #skz han #skz felix #skz jisung #skz seungmin #skz jeongin #skz i.n #skz scenarios #skz #stray kids headcanons

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miyacults · 4 months

Note

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

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marnikula · 16 days

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Can u do early seasons spencer x reader who has a lot of problems and they let people walk all over them and they dont set boundaries and they struggle with their emotions. Reader likes spencer a lot but doesn't seek him out bc they feel like he deserves better! And u can decide what happens but make it happy ending :)

Oh my word, I literally spent like 2 hours writing this because I wrote something and then my internet cut out when I posted and now it's lost, so I had to rewrite it. Hope you enjoy!

Cw: gn reader, people dumping work on reader, Spencer being cute

Enjoy!

You were a doormat. You knew it, your friends knew it, everyone knew it. You tried to set boundaries, to say no, but it never seemed to stick. Saying no made you feel guilty, it made you feel like a bad person even though you knew you weren't.

Being a doormat, people tended to walk all over you, requesting ridiculous things of you. That is how it came to be that you were sitting alone in the bullpen, the clock ticking away, showing you that it was around midnight and you still had a whole stack of papers to go through. You felt yourself about to fall asleep, and truly, you were too tired to fight it off when a ding signaled the arrival of someone.

Without even turning to look who it was you knew it was Spencer Reid. You recognized his footsteps, and even if you didn't, the smell he brought with him would have alerted you. It was the smell of coffee mixed sweet undertones, almost as if he had spent his whole day in a café. It was intoxicating. "What are you still doing here?" "Working, I have a lot of stuff to finish before tomorrow" "you mean today" looking back at the clock you could see he was right, it was now officially the next day.

"Do you need some help?" without even waiting for you to decline Spencer took half of the pile you were working on. He moved fast, knowing you well enough to know that you hated asking for help, especially from him, he just could never figure out why.

"Spencer, you really don't need to, I've got this" reaching your hands to take the files back only to be swatted away by the doctor was something you did not expect. "I'm not saying you don't have it, I'm just going to help you so you can go home earlier"

Sighing you admitted defeat and went to go make coffee for the two of you. With Spencer's help you managed to make it through the massive stack of papers on your desk in less that an hour, something you would never have been able to do on your own.

"You, doctor Spencer Reid, are amazing, what can I do to thank you?" it was a slight tease on your part. You didn't expect him to ask you anything return, it wasn't like him, he was too nice . That was one of the things you loved about him, and one of the reasons you willed the crush growing in your heart to shrivel up and die. He deserved so much better than you. Someone with a mind as amazing as his own, someone with kindness rivaling his and someone who knew how to say no. You were none of those. At least not in your own eyes.

"You could go on a date with me" Spencer surprised himself with those words, he really hadn't meant to say them out loud, but he really liked you, and in a moment of confidence inspired by sleep deprevation, he decided to take a chance.

"Really? You mean it?" the both of you were blushing hard at this point, him thinking about how he could have possibly screwed this up and you thinking about how this could possibly get any better.

"I-I mean, only if you want to, you really don't have to feel pressured, I know I said I would take it as paiment, but honestly spending time with you was enough of a payme-" grabbing his face in your hands you turned him to look at you, shutting off his ramblings with the movement and shutting off his brain with your words

"I would love to"

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #bau #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter one: october 2019

summary: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you: carmy, the recently promoted chef du cuisine at the best restaurant in the world, has no idea what he's in for when he accidentally spills his drink on the recently hired patissiere. (prequel to make my heart surrender)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language. eventual smut.

word count: 4.5k

listen to: dover beach part 2 - baby queen | alaska - maggie rogers | less than i do - the band camino | 2 / 14 - the band camino

a/n: i'm back back back again! this is six part series will be a snapshot of carmy x reader's relationship in nyc that span across a three year period. i'm really looking forward to writing their friendship & so much repressed sexual tension it's not even funny. this is the first story i've published without it being almost or fully written so updates will maybe be more sporadic this time.

October 2019

“i was hoping somehow we'd end up together, outside, past midnight, and smoking cigarettes. the wallpaper inside my brain is decorated with your face. i'm lonely for you only, and i'm trying to convince you that i'm something you could love.” – dover beach (pt 2)

He hates you.

You’re absolutely sure of it.

You can see it in the way his body stiffens as you walk by – in the way he hasn’t stopped sending you long, piercing glares across the kitchen – in just how bright red his face turns when you catch him doing it.

And for what? For being excellent? For being good enough to get a job after staging that one night?

Fuck that, you think to yourself.

You find Carmen Berzatto infuriating, and it begins to dawn on you that you may have had one too many gin cocktails to stomach the fact that you have to be here tonight.

Here, at his promotion party.

Here, at this stupid fucking bar that you hate.

Here, because he’s sort of everyone’s boss now… and it’s something you’re just going to have to live with.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise. There’d been talk of a leadership change (and Carmy filling the CDC position) when you had first started working here, but having a head’s up didn’t really help you now. You just hadn’t pictured having to go out for drinks to celebrate the man that seemed like he could barely stand being in the same room as you. But your friend Liz, one of the chef de parties at the restaurant, had insisted you come with, since she hadn’t wanted to go alone. You understood why you both had to go, so you’d invited your other best friend to help the both of you get through.

You thank your lucky stars that your direct report is the head pastry chef and not Carmy. Using your boss as a buffer, you had used every excuse in the book to avoid interacting with him.

Sure, he was brilliant.

Sure, he was a wunderkind who had just gotten back from a three month stage at noma right before he was hired here.

Sure, he was kind of a total asshole.

“Fuck that, man! C’mon. Just one shot. It’s your big night, motherfucker!” Nate calls out, practically shoving a shot into Carmy’s hand.

“Oh, I- uh, I’m good, man,” Carmy stutters, trying to find an excuse not to take the shot.

Truthfully, he hates shots… and he’s not much of a vodka drinker either.

He’s just not in the mood to get hammered either, his thoughts consumed with tomorrow, his first day as chef du cuisine, going perfectly.

You watch the uncomfortable interaction, almost feeling bad for the guy. Nate and the most recently promoted sous, Tim, are trying their best to corral Carmy into taking the shot as you walk by. You can see the uncomfortable look on Carmy’s face as he declines Nate’s offer for a second time.

In fact, he seems like a different person tonight. He’s… boyishly awkward, almost, and you wonder if he’s maybe not so great in social situations. As you pass by, drink in hand, you hear a cacophony of sound. Carmy’s trying his best to dodge his friends’ next attempt, and before you know it, Nate’s practically pushing him towards Tim, sending Carmy backwards, tumbling right into you.

You feel the wet liquid of your gin and tonic, along with the shot of vodka that’s flown out of Carmy’s hand spill all over your shirt. The shot glass shatters as it hits the floor, and the sobering feeling of ice cold liquid soaking through your shirt causes you to shriek.

“Shit! What the fuck, Carmy!” you yell, angrily, as you push him off of you.

At this point, you could care less that he’s everyone’s new boss, and the drama of it all has caught the attention of almost all of the other restaurant staff that have come out tonight. Your friends rush towards you, searching for as many napkins as they can grab.

“Fffffuck,” is all he says back and you can’t believe he’s yelling at you right now. You watch as his face changes quickly, from angry, to thoroughly shocked as he begins to stammer through an apology.

“I-. I’m sorry I-. I didn’t mean to-.”

He scrambles to help you, with one cocktail napkin as you push him away, your friends rushing to your side.

“No! I don’t want your help,” you grit through a clenched jaw.

“Shit, your shirt is ruined… C’mon,” Liz says, as she ushers you away shooting a glare in Carmy’s direction.

“Damn, man. You could just ask her out,” you can hear Nate say, even though you’re too preoccupied with examining the damage of your totally soaked through t-shirt.

So much for a chill evening.

“Oh shut up, Nate,” Maya snaps at the sous. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You nod, following her as she leads you away towards the bathroom.

Back at the bar, Liz is trying her best to remedy the situation, trying her best to clean up the mess you left behind. She watches Carmy closely, trying to figure out whether she’s going to pay for this tomorrow. But instead of being angry, he just seems embarrassed… remorseful, even. There’s a small part of her that feels bad for the guy as it becomes clearer that he may just not be great in social situations.

As soon as you get to the single-room bathroom, you're swearing loudly and stripping off your shirt. It’s completely see through and you know you’re going to smell like a distillery until you can get home to shower.

“I told you. He hates me,” you pout, examining your reflection in the mirror, a scowl glued to your face. You dap a few dry paper towels across your chest.

“I think it was just an accident, sweetie,” Maya says, sympathetically, as she tries her best to console you.

“Yeah, I know,” you admit in defeat.

As much as you’d like to blame this on him, you know it wasn’t his fault.

“Sorry I asked you to come tonight. If I knew it would be this much drama-,” you begin, before being promptly cut off.

“Oh no, I’m all here for this drama,” she laughs, causing you to shake your head and lighten up a little about the situation.

As angry as you’d like to be with Carmy, you know that the truth of the matter is that he hadn’t meant to spill his drink all over you. You should be mad at Nate and Tim… but it just feels easier to be mad at Carmy considering.

“Incoming!” you hear a voice say as Liz arrives. In her hands, she holds what looks like a white t-shirt, neatly folded up, that she hands to you. “Anyone in need of dry clothes?”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh with relief, glady taking it.

“Good on you for having an extra,” Maya says.

“Well, it’s a restaurant. You never know when you’re gonna need a change of clothes,” Liz shrugs, a glimmer in her eyes that Maya notices, as she says it. You find it a little strange that she seems to be watching you for a reaction, but you brush off the look she sends you, as you slide the dry t-shirt over your head.

The t-shirt isn’t much bigger than an oversized fit you’d buy for yourself – which makes sense because Liz is a bit taller than you. The cotton fabric hangs loosely over your form as your eyes flicker over to your completely soaked through shirt that lays crumpled up on the bathroom sink.

“Well, ladies. We did our best,” you resign yourself, as you notice your still-very-wet bra begin soaking through the white t-shirt.

“C’mon. Let’s see if we can get some more paper towels. Or uh.. See if the kitchen has a towel we can use,” Liz says, nodding her head towards the door.

“We’ll be right back,” Maya reassures you, empathy in her eyes.

You watch as Liz follows her, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for the door to the bathroom to swing open again, which surprises you. You gasp as soon as you see who's come through the door, and you’re crossing your arms over your chest which may only make the wet bra, white t-shirt ordeal even worse. A very flustered Carmy stands in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as if he hadn’t expected you to be in here.

“There’s uh… someone in here,” you scoff, unable to hide the irritation in the sound of your voice. You hug your arms closer to yourself, almost as if to cover yourself up.

“No I-, yeah, I know I just-,” he stammers, his eyes shifting to the floor. He feels like he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have, and he can feel all the blood rushing to his face, instantly regretting his decision not to knock first.

“I actually, uh… I came to apologize,” he manages to get out, his words quiet. He says it as if there’s an unintentional question mark at the end of his sentence. You can see the way he runs his eyes back and forth, trailing over the fancy floor tile, searching for the right words.

“I didn’t mean to- I just-. Sorry…”

His demeanor surprises you. At work, Carmy’s this confident, commandeering, talented chef, but tonight, he seems anything but.

Nervous. Shy. Like a fish out of water, even.

You take a breath, trying your best to relax.

You can feel some of your guard coming down as you begin to accept he really hadn’t meant to spill his drink on you. But you’re not eager to forget the fact that he’s been kind of an asshole to you since you started working here. Unsure of how to respond, you give literal effort to replying with a:

“It’s fine. Thanks.”

He knows you don’t mean it.

In fact, he can hear how painful it is for you to get out those words.

You wait for him to leave, but Carmy continues to stand in the bathroom with you, awkwardly. But he doesn’t say anything, so you figure that the least you can do is deflect a little with humor.

“I’ll uh-, invoice you for the therapy session,” you say, trying to eliminate any malice in your tone so that he knows you’re joking. “Walking home in a wet shirt on the streets of NYC is gonna be… fun.”

“Oh uh…” he trails off, his face turning a darker shade of red.

“I’m kidding,” you state, searching his face for any kind of expression.

This man is impossible to read, you think to yourself.

His eyes are still glued to the floor as he begins to move, mumbling something you can’t quite hear in response to your failed joke. Carmy slides out of the denim jacket he’s wearing, before taking hold of it, extending an arm out to you.

“Sorry um-. Here,” he says nervously, and it’s the first time he’s allowed his eyes to meet yours. “You can uh-. You can wear this. For your walk home.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

And had his eyes always been that blue?

Your face softens.

You take the jacket hesitantly, holding it in your hands. This time you mean it when you say:

“Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” he shrugs, daring to meet your eyes with his again.

You slip the jacket over your shoulders as the two of you stand a few feet apart. The air feels thick, and at this point, you’re not sure how to feel. Even though your bra has continued to soak through the white t-shirt, the way his denim jacket feels wrapped around your shoulders feels like an added layer of protection.

“After uh-. You know I-,” he stumbles through.

“Yeah. No I uh-. Thanks, again,” you repeat, cutting him off.

Might as well put the poor guy out of his misery.

“Anyways, I’ll make sure to get this back to you,” you interject, your voice much more reassuring this time.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You swear you can almost see the corner of his lips turn up, but you’ve never really seen him smile, so it’s not like you have much to compare it to. Carmy excuses himself, and you watch as he leaves, genuinely grateful for the peace offering.

The way that Carmy’s jacket hangs heavily around your shoulders makes you wonder if it’s real denim. You notice that it smells like him too: a faint scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, whatever scented laundry detergent he uses that feels familiar.

You and Carmy don’t speak again, save for a few short exchanges at work, but he’s been on your mind. Your interaction the other night had left an impression on you – albeit a strange one – and you’re not sure why you haven’t returned his jacket yet.

It’s not till a few days later that you speak again, leaving another strange impression on you. You head into the walk-in to get a few quarts of heavy cream and as you pull the door open, you find a flustered Carmy standing there. He’s got his hands on his hips and eyes glued to the floor with an exasperated look on his face as he watches the plastic storage containers he’s just thrown clamor across the floor. You gasp, shocked by the loud sounds, and Carmy knows he’s not alone.

As he turns to you with a glare on his face, you notice that Carmy’s eyes are puffy, his cheeks flushed red, and he looks sick as a dog.

His eyes are wide with embarrassment for a moment, before returning to their normal, stoic focus, hardened by a less than positive interaction with the exec chef.

“Sorry,” he mutters, uncomfortably. He gestures towards the storage containers on the floor, before running a hand through his neatly slicked back hair.

“It’s uh, you’re good, chef,” you say, trying your best to put your wall of professionalism up.

You had witnessed the demeaning encounter from the exec chef – everyone had. It had been impossible not to. He’d practically breathed down Carmy’s neck, taunting him for his lack of focus today, that he’s a little bitch for letting allergies get to him.

To say that the man was emotionally abusive would be an understatement.

You should leave – turn and go, and pretend that this never happened – that you’d seen nothing. But instead, you stay.

“You good, chef?” you ask softly, a hint of concern in your voice.

He sniffles again, the searing headache that robs him of his focus only burning brighter after what just happened.

“Yeah, no. I’m fine,” he snaps, refusing to look at you.

You wait for him to say something more, only he doesn’t. You can see he’s not feeling well and that he must be feeling worse after his metaphorical public stoning in the town square. He’s not sure what the hell it is you’re waiting for, and he just needs another fucking second to himself.

“Why are you still here?” he grits through teeth, his eyes fixed to the floor.

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re honestly not sure why you’re still in the walk-in with him either.

Maybe because you know that the exec chef is a total monster.

That he shouldn’t have talked to Carmy like that.

That you can understand why he’d be upset.

“Chef!” he says, raising his voice a little louder and flinging his hands towards the door. “Will you just-?”

You nod, a feeling of embarrassment filling your chest, as you realize he wants you to leave. You hurry out of the walk-in, closing the door behind you as you escape, your heavy cream quart containers in hand.

“You good?” Liz asks, as soon as she sees you come out of the walk-in. She’s passing by to bring a few deli containers over to the dish station.

“What?” you ask back in surprise, unaware that you look visibly shaken up.

“You look… flustered is all,” she points out.

“Oh. Yeah. I just uh-, Carmy’s in there. Throwing a fit. He just uh… snapped at me is all. But what’s new?” you reply, trying your best to shake it off.

She rolls her eyes in response, “Yeah, he can be like that. Thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to work under him.”

You let out an annoyed exhale. It’s a funny feeling – one that leaves you a little confused: one minute he’s this chivalrous guy that’s handing you his jacket to wear home and the next he’s practically tearing your head off to get out of the walk-in. You can’t quite figure him out. He’s so hot and cold, you’re not sure what to expect from him anymore.

As you and Liz are about to part ways, you remember that you have to give her back her borrowed shirt.

“Oh!” you say, calling her attention before she returns to her station.

“I have your shirt, by the way,” you say. “From the other night.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Okay weird timing considering he’s being such an asshole today but uh…. Yeah. The shirt’s... not mine. I forgot to tell you.”

You send her a puzzled look as she shrugs.

“I didn’t think you’d take it if I told you but… it’s Carmy’s. He pulled it out of his bag when he spilled the drink on you,” she informs, waiting to gauge your reaction.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“You were so mad at him that I just figured-, it doesn't matter. He pulled it out of his bag to give to you. I think he felt really fucking bad, babe,” she interjects, revealing the truth.

Well now you’re really fucking confused.

And after your little interaction with him in the walk-in, there’s no way you’re going to bring it up to him today.

“Oh. Yeah um, got it,” you reply, feeling even more confused than when you started the day.

You show up to work the next day with the t-shirt and his jacket tucked into a canvas tote bag you plan on giving to Carmy. You’d decided to wait till you had them both, and you’re also hoping that he’s in a better mood today.

Only, Carmy’s not here today.

“Yeah, he’s out sick. Looks like those allergies turned out to be a nasty head cold,” your general manager had informed you when you’d asked about where Carmy was. “Looks like Tim’s filling in today for him.”

“Got it. Thanks, Kate” you’d replied.

Later on your mid-shift break, you’d then mustered up all the courage possible to ask if anyone had checked in on Carmy. Kate, your GM, had answered no, and had been more than happy to give you his address so that you could do so. You’re not sure why you feel like it’s the right thing to do, but between his act of kindness at the bar, and his outburst in the walk-in yesterday, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to show him a little kindness. Not that you feel like you owe him or anything.

Maybe you just want to give him his clothes back and be done with it.

Maybe you’re also deeply confused about who the hell Carmen Berzatto really is.

Maybe the mystery of it intrigues you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Dinner service flies by quickly – a string of non-stop orders helps the time go faster. Carmy’s apartment is on your way home, so it’s a no-brainer to make the trip. You stop on your way at a deli nearby, picking up a quart of matzo ball soup, before heading over to his apartment.

When you get there, you knock on the door three times, anxiety beginning to flood you.

What if he thinks this is totally creepy – that you just got his address from the general manager? What if he thinks you’re stalking him? What if he hates the fact that you’re even there in the first place?

You wonder if you should just leave the soup at the door and run as fast as you can so that, by the time he answers the door, you’re gone.

Just as you’re bending down to place the quart container down by his door, the door swings open to reveal a very congested Carmy. His curls seem wilder than normal as he looks genuinely surprised to see you crouching in the hall of his apartment.

“Hi!” you practically shout, taken off guard as you rise to your feet.

“Yo,” he says, blinking a few times to make sure he’s not dreaming. “What’s uh-, what’s going on?”

It’s weird – seeing Carmy outside of the restaurant, outside of his chef whites. His usually slicked back, out-of-his-face hair falls in the messiest most unruly curls around his face in a way that's surprisingly unkempt. He’s… almost human-like.

“This is for you,” is all you manage to say, handing him the quart container.

“Uh… thanks,” he trails off, taking it and checking out the matzo ball soup.

You’re not sure where to begin, how to explain why the hell you’re here, so you just start talking.

“I uh… your place was on the way home,” you begin. “I hope it’s okay but I got your address from Kate. I actually used to go to this deli all the time when I was a kid with my parents and I forgot that it was in your neighborhood so I just figured that I should pick something up on the way over since I heard you were sick and uh-.”

Carmy shoots you a look and he almost looks amused.

“... I’m rambling, aren’t I?” you ask, a light blush running across your cheeks.

“Yeah,” he nods, a dry laugh following.

You wait a beat, collecting yourself. You’re not sure why this is so weird, but it’s so weird.

“I came by because…” you start, digging through your canvas tote bag that’s draped across your right shoulder. “... I wanted to return these to you.”

You hold out the jacket and t-shirt folded up together to Carmy, his eyes following them.

“Liz told me that the shirt was yours too. I just-, I know we don’t always… that you don’t-, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I know it’s kind of weird at work sometimes but… I guess I just wanted to say thank you. For these. Hence the soup,” you finally explain.

“No problem,” Carmy nods, taking them in his empty hand, before disappearing momentarily to place them somewhere inside of his apartment.

You’re only a little disappointed by his short response, yet you’re not sure you expected anything else. He returns only seconds later.

“It’s uh-, Cool jacket,” you say. You can’t tell whether you’re making small talk or just saying something out of discomfort, but it seems to pique Carmy’s interest.

“It actually reminds me of the denim jacket that John Lennon used to wear ”

“You know denim?” he asks, and you could swear that you see his eyes light up for a moment.

“No, but I know music,” you reply.

“Uh I mean. Yeah. It is…” he says, with a nod, a hint of excitement in the words that follow. “Not the actual one he wore but… it’s a 1950s selvedge Wrangler. Just like Lennon.”

So he wasn’t just a fine-dining robot.

“Wow I didn’t know you were into all that,” you say, feeling some of the tension between the two of you melt. “Denim, I mean.”

“Something I picked up from my brother, I guess,” he shrugs, shyly.

“That’s funny,” you chuckle.

“Hm?” he hums in response.

“Just… the thought of you having a brother,” you clarify, jokingly. “Thought you were like… grown in a lab at noma or something.”

And Carmy almost smiles, you think.

“Nope. Just Chicago,” he replies, enjoying the act of sharing something with you.

“Ahhh,” you sound, following it up with another small laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Enjoy the soup.”

“Yeah, uh. Thanks for this,” he says, holding up the brown bag.

“Of course,” you reply, turning to go.

But you don’t go yet, not ready to let go of the momentary connection you’ve built with Carmy

"You know it doesn’t have to be like this,” you say, turning back to him. He's staring at you, just like he does in the kitchen. It’s another long, languid look that makes you realize that maybe they haven’t been hate-glares after all.

“We don't have to do this... start over every time we see each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree with a nod. “I mean, I've already worn your clothes so… it’s a rather… intimate thing for us to just be strangers….”

He listens attentively.

"We could… coworkers… friends, even,” you suggest, hesitantly.

“Me and you?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by what you’ve said, or if he’s about to laugh in your face.

“If you want,” you nod in response.

He waits a beat, and you watch his facial expressions soften a little as he finally says, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You smile at him, the man you thought hated you, wants to be friends with you. You get a wicked idea, letting out a chuckle before continuing.

“Great. There’s just one thing,” you begin playfully.

You can’t help yourself.

“Hm?” he hums.

“It’s just… I haven’t made my mind up about you. So you should consider this your trial period, buddy,” you tease.

He lets out a dry laugh, “Like a stage?”

Of course it’s all kitchen-related for him.

You laugh in response, “Yeah, like a stage.”

“Heard, chef.”

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

Carmy’s never had someone joke with him so sweetly. Between his family and, well, Richie… it’s always been callous humor and insults thrown back and forth lovingly. This feels… different: lighter.

As he watches you walk away, he looks down at the deli quart container that he holds in his hand. He’s never had anyone take care of him before – not like this – someone who wasn’t Sugar or Mikey, and certainly not his Mom. Not like this. Not without asking for anything in return. He can’t seem to identify the warm feeling that rushes through him, and wonders, for a moment, if this is what it feels like to fall in love.

Not that he’s ever experienced that either.

By Saturday, he’s back to work and feeling much better (the soup definitely helps, he decides) but it’s not for another week that he musters up the courage to ask you what you’re doing between lunch and dinner service.

“Chef!” he calls out to you as you’re cleaning up your station.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you reply.

It’s not like you’ve been all buddy-buddy and friendly over the last week, but you’ve at least stopped thinking that he hates you. Sure you’ve decided to be friends, but it’s not like you’d expected wildly different behavior.

“You uh… wanna grab a cup of coffee? On the break, I mean,” he asks, his blue eyes seeming… more brilliant than you’ve ever noticed.

“I owe you one. You know. For the soup.”

You smile, “Yeah. I’d uh-, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

read: chapter two

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#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy #comfort and chaos

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goodboyyyy · 1 year

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Your phone dinged- it was an email from your college. You'd been waiting for it all summer- you'd been dying to know what dorm you'd be in and who your roommate would be.

You were super excited for college, to be around other smart people, especially since you were going to an Ivy League. You'd kind of been an nerd in high school, but thought that in college, brains might be appreciated over brawn. You'd imagined it a lot- being around other smart people who could actually have a discussion, instead of the homophobic idiots you went to school with, the dumb jocks you had to take classes with, all the dumbasses who cared more about football than books and things like that. You hated being around these idiots more and more every year. Even though you always wished you looked more built, you never let yourself work out or go to the gym. You didn't want to be anything like them.

Grinning, googled your roommates name excitedly and found an Instagram….

Your jaw dropped. This had to be a joke.

He looked just like every stupid muscle head jock you been trying to get away from! You, scrolled and scrolled, hoping your opinion would change, but every picture was just him at the gym, or faxing, or at some party scene like a beach. He was really hot, but you didn’t really want a hot roommate, you just wanted a cool roommate.

You sighed, closing your laptop. There was no sense stressing about it now. You couldn’t really tell how a person was from a picture, anyway. Maybe he was a cool guy who just happened to work out.

But then school started, and your roommate was worse than you imagined- an annoying, pompous jock who thought he knew everything. All he talked about was lifting, dumb motivational sayings, and partying. He wasn't actually dumb- but that just somehow made it worse. It just added to his smug, superior attitude knowing he wasn't a typical dumb jock- and he loved to hear himself talk, always went on and on about everything to show you how much he knew. He wasn't even that douchey- he was just annoying as hell, always thinking he knew more and better, always acting like this great person so people would think that about him. He was even hotter in person, until he opened his mouth at least and the dumbest shit you ever heard seemed to come out of it without fail every time. Now, every time he spoke, he rolled your eyes and automatically tuned him out. It was the only way you could bear having to room with him.

It was awful at first, but the year is going by pretty fast. Before you knew it, winter break was here you were busy packing the last few things to head home. Ironically, you were as excited about going home as you have been to arrive at college. You couldn’t wait to be by yourself, away from this idiot, and not have to hear him or hear about working out or anything like that for a couple of days. Suddenly, your phone dinged. You went to grab it, but your roommate was right next to it, so he passed it over to you. His eyebrows raised as he stared at the screen. “Shit, man.”

“What?” You said as you took the phone. It was a gmail notification.

FLIGHT CANCELLED.

Your stomach dropped. You were already leaving late because your last final had been on the last day the school was open, at the dorms and closed for break that night at midnight. You lived across the country.

“Fuck! What am I supposed to do now,” you said more to yourself and more out of frustration than to him. You didn’t even consider that his dumbass would have any ideas for you.

“Well, why don’t you come stay with me for a little while?”

You looked up at him, eyebrow raised and pretty surprised that he’d offer, till you remembered he was too dumb and clueless to realize how much you didn't like him. You wanted to tell him it was fine, no thanks… but you had no other options now, aside from maybe sleeping in the airport till the blizzard passed. That could be hours or even days, though

“You mean it?”

“Of course man! Look, I know we’re not like, best buds, or gym bros or anything like that, I’m not just gonna leave you stranded here. I’m heading out in like an hour. You can come stay at my place a night or two until you can figure out another flight.”

It wasn’t ideal, but like you’d already realized, you had no other choice right now. You packed the last of your things and put them in his car. The snow was already starting when you left, and came down harder and harder as you drove the 20 or 30 minutes over to his house. You were kind of scared sometimes, but he was actually a really good driver. Anytime this car slid or skidded even a little, it was like he knew exactly what to do to get it back on track. His big muscular arm bulged now and then as he gripped the steering wheel tight when the Jeep had fishtailed briefly a few times, and you caught yourself staring at it a little too long more than once. It was honestly really impressive to watch, you would’ve been freaking out if the car skidded at all like that, but he stayed totally calm. Maybe he did know a thing or two after all.

He already texted his parents and explanation of why you were coming, so they had a plate the food ready for you when you arrived. You weren’t that surprised to see the rest of his family was kind of like him. He had a brother who was like a little jock in training, and a Dad who was like a veteran jock. The conversation was pretty similar to what you’d expected – nothing really substantial, with each of them nodding dumbly every time one of them said something equally dumb.

Once dinner was done you headed upstairs with him.

"So, there's a guest room, but there's also a bed in my room that used to be my brothers. I think you should sleep in that one. It'll be a lot more comfortable."

"I dunno-"

"C'mon man! It'll be just like at school! Plus, there's a bathroom in there. Otherwise you have to share with the rest of my family," he said with a big dumb grin. You sighed. He was just so oblivious, but he had saved your ass letting you stay here, and you didn't want to be rude.

"Alright, fine," you said, heading into his room with him. You saw a picture of him and his brother on his dresser. They were identical. A gold chain necklace was draped over the frame.

"You guys were twins?"

"Yeah..."

"Where did he go?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Fell in love with some girl from another country. Out of the blue, he told us he was moving there with her. Had a big fight with me and my parents over it, and hasn't talked to anyone since. It really sucks. He was my main gym bro."

"Ah, that sucks," you said, not sure of what to say.

"Anyway, lets get to bed," he said, sliding his shirt and pants off. It was a shame he was so dumb, because you would have thought he was so sexy otherwise. He'd been right though- this bed was really comfy. You drifted off to sleep after a few moments, exhausted from packing.

He slid out of bed, opened the closet, and pulled a pair of his brother's old gym shoes out. They were so rank he could smell them from a couple feet away. He slid them under your bed quietly and stepped back, watching the smell seep into you. Your nose wrinkled at first, but he smiled when you started to draw slow, deep inhales of the scent. Then, he pulled his sweaty gym clothes out from earlier, wringing them out into a cologne bottle he left on the bathroom counter.

"Night night, future gym bro," he said, getting back under his covers.

You woke up the next morning feeling groggy and lethargic. When you opened your eyes, you saw him in the bathroom with the door open, doing the same morning routine he did at school. The thing was, you never really saw him do it that much, because you always avoided using the bathroom when he was in there, otherwise he'd start talking your ear off. He was washing his face. His thick muscles shifted with every slight movement. You knew he was showing off, but fuck was he sexy. It was early and you were still pretty groggy and horny and half-asleep, so much so that you found yourself staring at him, unable to look away. You felt like an asshole, suddenly. He'd invited you here in an emergency, and you'd been rude and judgmental the whole time. His chiseled abs contracted as he bent over the sink and scrubbed his face.

He must've felt your gaze on him, because he turned over to you. "Hey man," he said, "Yo. c'mere. You gotta smell this cologne I just got."

You rolled your eyes, but instead of being annoyed, you smiled. He was so cute, in a dumb way. You got up and walked into the bathroom, pulling your boner into your pants elastic so he wouldn't see it. It was good you did, because you felt your cock surge as he raised his arms and sprayed the cologne into his muscular pits.

His biceps peaked as he did. He looked like a model. And the cologne smelled amazing. He noticed you watching him flex and smirked. "You like those, huh? Haha," he said with a laugh.

"Uh- yeah man, really cut... ha ha" you said, trying to play it cool.

"We could get your like that I think," he said, gripping your tiny arms with his big hands.

"Haha, no thanks," you said, stepping back. Still, the scent of the cologne drifted over to you. You had to admit, it smelled pretty good. Kind of familiar, too.

"C'mon man, why not?"

"The gym really isn't my thing."

"Have you ever even been?" he asked, giving his pits another blast of cologne.

"No. Just really not my thing," you said. You got another huge whiff of the cologne just as you turned away from the door. You stopped suddenly. Damn, it smelled good- like it was getting better and better by the second. You took a deep whiff. You didn't want to walk away from it.

"Yo, what brand is that?"

"It's an off brand," he said, "i dunno really."

"Can I try some?" you said, taking another deep inhale. The smell was invigorating. It made you feel like you were bursting with energy- energy you needed to release.

He smirked. "If you come to the gym with me, maybe."

You were about to say no, but you really, really wanted to try that cologne. Plus, you had so much energy now, you needed some way to burn it off. And what else would you do all day? Sit around with his weird family?

"Ok, fine," you said, "But I'm just doing the treadmill though. Maybe an eliptical."

He shrugged. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere. What matters is, we're finally gym bros dude!"

"I don't know about all that," you said with a laugh, going to put your shoes on. He was so dumb and easily pleased. Like, who gave a shit if you went to the gym with him or not? Why did it matter so much?

You frowned down as you tried to put your shoes on. For some reason, they seemed smaller. You could barley fit them on, like your foot had grown overnight or something.

"Hey man, i got you," he said, reaching under his brothers bed. He pulled a pair of gym shoes out for you. "These should fit."

You picked them up. They smelled familiar and nice, kind of like the cologne. You were really excited to wear them for some reason, and after you put them on, you felt even better about your decision to go to the gym. You rocked your legs back and forth, bursting with energy. "You ready dude?" you said.

"Lets get it," he said nodding you out the door. "Oh wait. Almost forgot." He reached into his bag and tossed the bottle of cologne over to you. "All yours, man," he said with a grin.

"Thanks bruh," you said, spraying a thick coating under your arms. You wondered why you were talking like that, but as the cologne filled your nose, the thought faded away.

You'd stayed on the treadmill for a while at first, but even there, you were shocked at how fast you could run without getting tired. His brother's old gym shoes were so broken in and cushioned that it felt like you were running on air. But you'd been watching him while he lifted, watching him while the cologne you drenched yourself in seeped into your nose. Running wasn't enough. You needed something to release more energy. You headed over to him, asking if you could join.

"Letssss gooooo, man!" he yelled excitedly, pulling you in for a bro hug. He was drenched in sweat that got all over your clothes. "Here, hit some curls with me," he'd said, handing you a dumbbell. It felt weird but... right in your hand, like you'd finally undergone some masculine right of passage you'd been putting off. You lifted it, but with terrible form.

"Nah man, like this," he said, springing up, and before you knew it he was behind you, his big frame dwarfing yours, and gripped your hands with his own, pushing them up into a proper curl.

"See man? Just like this. Up.... and down," he said slowly into your ear.

He did it a couple times. It felt nice, having him show you. He was a real nice guy, you thought, feeling his hands gripping you own. Your eyes started to glaze over- but when he left go, you immediately started overcompensating with your back. In a flash, he was behind you again.

"Nah bro. You're thinking too much," he said slowly. "Stop. Thinking." he said, gripping your hands again. You were about to tell him to fuck off, but the thought faded away suddenly as his skin touched yours. All your thoughts did, Your head became an empty vacuum.

"Up," he said slowly into your ear, lifting your arms.

Up. Yes. Up. The single directive rushed in to fill the entirety of your empty mind. Up. Up. Up.

He lowered them slowly, maintaining the tension. "And Down."

And Down. Yes. The other two words entered your brain, filling any gaps missed by Up. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

"Up. And Down.," he said in your ear. "That's all that matters. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down."

Your lips began to say the words slowly, matching your movements. Your eyes became totally glazed, and this time, when he let go, you didn't stop. You kept moving with the perfect form he'd just programed into you while he picked up his own dumbbells and lifted next to you moving in sync... it felt so.. nice... moving up...and down....up... and down...

You hadn't remembered much more after that till you were both in the locker room, drenched in sweat after a full workout.

"Great job, man," he said, pulling you in for a high-five hug again. Your sweaty bodies and pumped muscles rubbed against each other in the exchange.

"Thanks bro," you said, still invigorated from the workout. It felt fuckin great. And he'd been so great, showing you proper form for every move, correcting you, adjusting the weight for you. As you both left, you once again felt like an ass for being so rude to him all these months...

When you got home and showered, you felt something itchy under your arms. Checking it out, you noticed your pit hair had gotten a lot darker and thicker. You shrugged. You were almost a year younger than most of your classmates with the way your birthday fell. It must've been the final strokes of puberty, or something.

You headed into your roommate's room for bed. He was propped up in bed in just his underwear, massaging himself with a theragun, nearly moaning. You laughed as you looked at him. He smirked, realizing how funny it looked.

"Laugh all you want, dude, but if you tried it, you'd feel the same way."

"Lemme try then. I'm pretty sore from today already. I still can't believe you convinced me to do weights."

"Haha. I knew you had it in you bro," he said, walking over to you with the theragun. "Aren't you glad you did?"

"Yeah," you said honestly. It had actually felt surprisingly good.

"Letssss gooooo, man!" he yelled excitedly, pulling you in for a bro hug. "Good shit bro. The treadmill is for pussies. You gotta pump these guns, otherwise you're wasting time."

You were about to argue when the theragun hit your sore tricep. The thought slowly faded away as bursts of pleasure rippled out from your muscles. You fell onto the bed, overwhelmed by the feeling, but he kept the gun on you steadily the whole time, watching you squirm and moan. It didn't just feel like a massage, it felt like a whole other workout. You felt the blood pumping into your arms, felt them getting warmer as they bulged and swelled. It felt incredible. He moved around to your bicep, then shoulders, then upper back. He lifted your arms to get underneath them, and you thought you saw his eyes linger on your hairy pits, smiling at them, but you were too preoccupied to think about it. You weren't sure how long he kept at it, but by time he was done, you felt amazing.

"Woah, thanks brah."

"Anytime. Why don't you wash up? We gotta be up early to hit the gym."

"For sure bro," you said, standing up and heading to the bathroom. Yeah, you'd hit the gym again tomorrow. It wasn't even a question, really.

Your eyes widened as you stared in the mirror. You arms looked huge! They hadn't looked this big when you'd gotten out of the shower.

He noticed you admiring them. "It's the theragun, and the uh.... the hot shower. Gets the blood pumped into them. It'll probably be gone in the morning," he said.

"Oh...makes sense," you said, brushing your teeth and sliding into bed.

Once he heard you snoring, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his shaving cream, heading into the bathroom. He whipped his thick cock out and stared at a couple of bimbos getting fucked on his phone, shooting a hot, huge load right into the cream. He swirled it around with his finger, mixing it, then dabbed a bit onto his hand as he headed over to you. He gently spread it over your face, smearing the extra under your pits. Smiling, he went to bed.

You woke up the next day feeling sore and... itchy. You thought it was the pillow, but no matter how you moved, the feeling never went away. Blinking, you scratched at your face, where the feeling was coming from. Your hand met a rough surface. You felt around your face until you realized it was... stubble? But you'd only really had that above your lips. You felt more and more, but it was definitely there.

He looked over to the bathroom. He was up already, shaving in the mirror. He caught your eye again “Hey man. Sleep good?“

“Yeah man, but it looks like some of my facial hair came in overnight or something. It's all itchy.”

You scratched it again, but then thought another itchy, feeling coming out from under your arm. Lifting your arm, you noticed that your pit hair looked even thicker and darker than the night before. And despite what he said about the Theragun and shower, your arms still looked huge. You stare at your body, confused. That late puberty really was hitting you like a train.

"Hey bro, that’s just what happens when you get that testosterone pumping. Come here, I’ll take care of that for you. Just let me finish up.“

You approached as he lifted his chin, showing off his thick neck and sliding his shaver across it. It was strange to watch. You were the same age, and he looked so natural doing it, but it was something you'd never done before. You never had enough facial hair to.

He turned to you, lifting your chin up with one finger, inspecting your stubble. He looked pleased for some reason. He grabbed a jar of shaving cream and opened it- but he hadn't used any? With his razor, he could shave dry, so why-

He smeared the shaving cream on your face, and the cool, minty feeling wiped the question from your mind. Your eyes drooped to his beefy pecs and six pack in front of you as he moved the razor softly over your skin. "You just go nice and slow, just like this," he said, shaving you delicately. Your heart beat faster. It felt weirdly... intimate. You guessed this was something Dad's or older brothers showed youhow to do, but you hadn't had one. You watched intently, trying not to shudder where his fingers grazed your skin. What was weird was, even as the razor removed the hair, it seemed to leave more stubble behind.. but... you liked it. You almost looked... hot. He kept going, till you had a thick 5 o clock shadow just like his.

"I'll let you finish up," he said, sliding you the shaved and shaving cream. "You should shave your pits too, brah. Makes lifting easier. Less irritation."

"Sounds good man," you said, smearing a thick coating of shaving cream onto your hairy pits. It tingled like before. Just like with your face, even though it removed the hair, it seemed to leave more hair follicles behind. You squinted at it. Probably just a trick of the light.

"Ready to hit the gym again?"

"Hell yeah," you said. "But I just have to check flights first-"

"Ah, you know, I was gonna check for you earlier, but our Wifi was acting up."

"That's cool. I can just check on my phone."

"Alright. But just get dressed first," he said, handing you his brothers shoes again.

You were going to tell him to just wait, but the sight of the shoes got you excited. You'd felt really good wearing them.

"Alright," you said, taking them and eagerly sliding them on. The second you tied them, you stood up, pumping your legs one after another. You felt ready to go!

"Oh. and don't forget the cologne. You don't wanna smell like sweat, ya know," he said with a laugh as he tossed you the bottle. It excited you, just like the shoes. You sprayed about ten or eleven sprays on you, letting the scent fill your nose. It smelled even better than the day before. You felt filled with energy, invigorated again, like you needed to get out and release it. But first you just had to... had.... to... look... at...... you................had................to..........look..........at......f....???

"Yo, was I gonna do something man?" you asked, brow hunching in the same confused, dumb way his usually did.

"Yeah. You were gonna wear my gym clothes since you don't have your own. You just asked like a minute ago, man, haha. Remember?"

"Ah, my bad," you said laughing. You'd really zoned out there, haha. You threw on the muscle tee and thigh shorts he tossed you. They must've been from a three pack or something, because he put on the same exact ones.

"Lets get it, brah," he said, slapping you on the back.

"Lets gooo!" you said back, and you guys headed out.

It was the same as the day before. You were doing shoulder presses awfully at first, feeling awkward and self concious, but then his hands were under your arms and his voice was in your ear.

"Up and down, bro. Up and down. That's all that matters. Let all those other thoughts, other things you know about go. They're just weighing you down. You only need to know three things, bro."

You nodded, eyes glazing over again. "Up. And Down," you said, pressing the weight overhead cleanly. "Up. And Down," you repated, sinking into a smooth rhythm of presses. He stood next to you again, lifting at the same time as you. You felt yourself sweating all your thoughts out, getting dumber by the second. You knew you should stop but- buuu- u- up....

Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

He took you through a bunch of other exercises, reminding you whenever he saw you lose focus. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

You both got home an hour or two later, still panting and dripping with sweat from your lifts.

"That was sick, bro," he said, peeling his wet shirt off and bouncing his pecs in the mirror.

"Yeah, I feel great," you said, starting to peel the muscle tee off. It was tight, even before your pump, like it had been clinging to you throughout your workout, warming your chest. Now, it was tight because your chest seemed a lot bigger.

"Chest day best day!" He inhaled deeply. "Ah, you smell that bro? I missed that smell. When me and my twin would get back from the gym, this room would stink up in like 30 seconds and reek for days. Its been a while."

"Damn, it does reek in here," you said with a dumb laugh.

"Breathe it in. That's the smell of hard work, bruh."

You both took a deep inhale, laughing. It was so good having a friend to be a stupid guy with.

"Yeah, man," you said, finally managing to peel the shirt off. Your chest looked huge, wide, and puffy. Almost exactly like his... that was... weird....but they looked so... so... good... just like your shoulders you'd hit that day... and your back.... your lats looked like... like wings... wings..... flight.... wasn't there something you were supposed to do with a fligh-

You let out a gasp that turned into an "ahhhhhh" as he hit your sore muscles with the theragun. Part of you was realizing what was happening. You were still smart- somewhere in there. You were... you were somehow turning into him, literally. You tried to think about how, but it hurt. All the blood your brain was used to was flowing into your shoulders and chest as he massaged them. Thinking felt... bad... but... what was in the mirror looked... good.... yeah. You looked fucking good, like this. Yo.... you looked so good haha. Thinking.... bad.... lifting.... good... blood in... muscles.... not in.... brain.... lift.... more... get... sexier.

You felt energy surge through you again. Instinctually, you flexed in the mirror the way he did in the morning, grunting and scrunching your face. Toned muscle bulged under your skin as more and more blood and oxygen left your brain and poured into your muscles. You looked big, but you still felt small. You needed to get bigger... it felt.... urgent... like any time you spent not working out was time wasted. Your thoughts faded as he moved the theragun over you and your chest. It almost was like an exact replica of his.

Your eyes moved to him.

Gym.... bro.... love my.... gym.... bro.... love my..... bro.... wanna.... workout.... with my... bro

"Yo, it's still pretty early bro. You think we could lift again tonight, after dinner?"

"That's what I'm talkin about man," he said, slapping you on the back. "Love seeing you finally motivated to get in the gym and work on yourself."

"Feels great, dude," you said, hitting another pose in the mirror, staring at your muscles. Bigger.... need to.... get.... bigger...

"I told ya so."

"I know. I should've listened earlier. You're so smart, man."

"Haha, thanks man. Lets go get our protein in so we can get out there again. I'll go make our shakes. You shower first man- you stink," he said with a laugh.

"Haha," you said, lifting your pit and taking a big whiff of it. You did reek, but it smelled good, in a way. Like a sign of your hard work.

"Damn bro. I'm gonna need a gas mask in here," he joked, laughing as he walked out.

You laughed back. Joking with your bro was the best. You got into the shower, feeling all the new muscle in your body move under your skin. Feeling its power. The hot water just exacerbated it. You felt big- strong- but needed to get bigger- stronger- the thought was constant.

But- this wasn't... you?

You didn't... care about this stuff.

No.

This was all wrong. What were you doing lifting, focusing on superficial shit like this? What were you doing hanging around with this idiot? No- you had to get out of here. You'd be polite to him, but as soon as you got out of the shower, you'd book a flight for the next day. Enough of this! You'd been getting swayed by a pretty boy being nice to you, and it needed to stop.

He came in with the protein shakes just as you got out of the shower.

"Here you go man," he said, handing it to you. "Gave you a little extra," he said with a wink. Your glass had a little more in it than his did.

"Thanks dude," you said, putting it down. Fuck him and his protein shakes! "I'll have it in a minute. I just remembered I need to look up flights."

"You should really drink it first," he said, handing it back to you. "It's best to drink it as soon as possible. You don't wanna stay small, do you?"

Small? Small? No- never small- big- need to be big- big- huge- need- protein-

"Fuck no," you said suddenly, and before you could stop yourself you were grabbing it and gulping it down. It tasted good. Creamy. Really creamy.

"Damn that's good," you said, cheersing with him when he finished his. It was like you could feel the protein seeping through your body, repairing you. It felt so good. You felt confused, though.

"Yo, was I about to do something?" you asked.

"Yeah man. We were gonna do our meal preps for the rest of break. I'm so glad you decided to spend break here to focus on working out instead of going home with your family," he said.

"Huh? No, no, something with my phone..."

"Yeah man, remember? You were gonna tell your family you weren't gonna make it home this year. You really wanted to see them, but you didn't wanna waste a whole month away from your gym bro when you could be learning from me & making gains. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah yeah," you said. That made sense. Why else would you be here "Hell yeah man! Three solid weeks of nothing but lifting with my bro. No stupid classes or reading to distract us from what matters."

"Exactly man," he said, "C'mon, lets go make our meals for the week. Chicken broccoli and rice city!" You did, then headed to the gym.

You did legs this time.

"Just remember," he said as you got under the squat rack.

You nodded vacantly, feeling your mind slowly emptying again of everything except those three words. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.... Up ... And.... Down....

The next thing you knew you were grunting and dripping sweat as you boosted the 6 plates on your last rep up. Your legs were throbbing, bulging, and felt amazing. They looked bigger already, and you'd only done 4 sets of one exercise. He nodded approvingly.

You both got back from the 2nd round at the gym a couple hours later, scarfing your meals down out of your microwavable meal prep trays.

"Yo, did you see all those pussies on the treadmill staring at us?" you laughed.

"Of course man," he said, laughing back. "That's all they can do," he said as he flexed his huge, pumped muscles. "Stare and wish they were us."

"Feels good," you said, scarfing down your food. Both of you ate like pigs, spilling rice and shredded chicken all over your laps and the sides of your mouths. He went to get your protein shakes, and came back a few minutes later, once again with yours a little bit more full and creamy than his. Extra supps, he told you. When you were done, you cracked open the six pack his Dad had bought for you guys and started slamming them down while watching Family Guy, both laughing dumbly every couple minutes at it. You used to hate this show... but it was so funny! You'd just never given it a chance.

About 2 hours later, with empty beer cans strewn all around the room, you guys decided to get to bed. He went into the bathroom first, brushing his teeth and whipping his dick out to take a long, hot piss in the toilet. His eyes flickered over to your toothbrush, and he smiled. Grabbing it, he dropped it in front of his stream of piss, making sure to soak it thoroughly before putting it back in the holder.

You came in once he was done and started brushing your teeth. Your toothbrush felt warm and tasted kind of funny, thank you, fuck it. You instinctually swallowed it as the taste hit your tongue, sucking it deep in to your stomach. It felt like your stomach was rumbling, then tightening, then pushing out, then tightening again. When you were done brushing your teeth, you lifted your shirt up to reveal a nice set of toned abs just like his. You smiled. Damn, he was a really good coach.

You stared into the mirror, reflecting on how much you'd changed over the last few days. You smiled dumbly, hitting pose after pose in the mirror. In pretty much everything but your face, you looked just like him now. Your arms were thick and corded, your pecs sat nice and high, your legs were ripped, stomach shredded. Even your feet had gotten bigger, going from a size 8 to a size 13, just like his, and you'd grown a few inches, too. Wait... taller? You didn't get taller from the gym...

...

...and why were you his exact height?

You threw open the bathroom door.

"Yo, what's going on here?"

"What do you mean, bro? Chill."

"Nah man. Are you like, turning me into you or some shit? This isn't cool, bro," you said, struggling to talk like how you used to, before "bro" and "man" and "bruh" were every other word?

He smiled. "Into me? Of course not. You could never be me. But I am making you into my twin brother, bro. Haha."

"Well it stops now, weirdo. I'm outta her-"

He grabbed your arms, pulling them towards your head, forcing you to flex. You let out a moan as blood pumped out of your brain, into your sore muscles. It felt so good. So warm... so.... relaxing. But, no, you had to leave – he turned you towards the mirror, showing you your reflection as you flexed. You gave a dumb smile at the hunk staring back at you, at all your hard work- no, he wasn’t gonna get you like this again---

"Just look at yourself, bro," he said slowly massaging your thick traps. Waves of heat flowed over you- no– you had to- leave. He bent down, lifting your leg onto the ball of your foot. Your thick calf muscles contracted, stealing more blood from your brain, pumping more down into your body. It felt so good after a long workout. So good. So waaaaarm, you thought while he bent you into pose after pose like his mannequin and you stared in awe at what you'd become. You were.... hot.

"You’re telling me you don’t like this, bro? That you'd rather be a little nerdy bitch like before?"

It– it felt so… Good... you looked so… Good... you look like… Someone you would’ve thirsted after for months before .. you... loved it. It felt good. Before you knew it, he'd taken his brother's chain off the dresser and fastened it around your neck.

Your mind instantly blanked as he did it. What the fuck were you thinking? Leaving? When he was fucking turning you into a god for free? What kinda ungrateful piece of shit loser was the old you? Nah, he wanted nothing to do with that shit. You were lucky to be here.

"I was gonna wait until we were done to do this to you, but since that nerd in you has so much fight apparently, we can just get it over with now. It doesn’t really matter," he said.

"You want to act like a fag? I’ll treat you like a fag, boy," he said grabbing your head and rubbing it against his bulge. His big. Warm.. bulge... Your eyes glazed even more. "That's right, broski. Tell me how you really feel."

He was fucking sexy. You tried to lie to yourself all year and tell yourself that you didn’t like him, that he was annoying, that he was an idiot. But still, you stared at him whenever you could, every time he'd come into the room with his towel... take a peek every time he was in his boxers. Pretended you didn’t like him and denied it. But you did. You hated the girls that he brought back to the room because you wished it was you in there, getting pounded out by him, or maybe you wished you were him, getting to be such a stupid fucking asshole and still getting all the ass you wanted. He must’ve felt like a king.

You suddenly realize'd that you said all this out loud. Your mouth dropped open in surprise- but- how...

"Good, good. Now tell me, wouldn’t it feel nice if someone felt that way about you, boy?" Your eyes lit up.

"Me?"

"Yeah you. You’re going to be a God just like me boy. And I get the gym bro! Everyone wins."

You nodded slowly as he pulled his cock out, rubbing it against your face. Yeaaaaaah. Jock cock. You'd always loved jock cock when you'd been.... gay? No, you weren't gay... you'd never been gay. This was just bonding with your bro, haha.

Your tongue lapped up the precum off the tip of his dick. He shuddered, his cut, muscular hips thrusting instinctually. Your mouth opened just as automatically, sucking his cock. It felt so easy to hold yourself up with your new, big muscles as he pounded your mouth. His balls slipped out of his boxers, slapping you in the face as he thrust into you. They smelled great.

"Ahhhhhh yeah," he said, grabbing your hand and placing it on his tight ass. You gripped it, feeling the power from years of squats in it. "We got one more step left, broski. Tomorrow we're gonna put my facecream and gel on you and fix that busted face and wack haircut of yours. You’ll look just like me, bro. And you'll love it. I want that nerd inside of you watching while I snuff the last of him out- well, while you do it, really. He'd hate you so much, now," he said, pulling you off his dick and turning you towards the mirror again. "Look at you now, just a dumb jock big boy."

You smiled goofily in the mirror, flexing again at the sight of yourself. "Dumb jock big boy". The words resonated in your brain. Yeah, dumb jock big boy you thought, flexing harder. Hahaha. No- you weren't a jo- dumb jock big boy. Hahahaha. Yeah, you were just a dumb jock big boy- no- no- you were smar... just a dumb jock big boy. No matter what else you tried to think, it was the only thing your mind would land on. You flexed even more. You couldn't help it. Your body looked... so.... fucking... good. You felt like a ... man. Brutish. Powerful. You had muscles... big... muscles.... you couldn't stop staring... you fely so... powerful... needed... more powee. Needed... to get bigger. Needed... to be a msn not a cyck beta loser.

"That's it. Who's my dumb jock bro?"

"Me," you said proudly.

"I thought you were too good for that shit tho? Too smart?"

"Nah," you said.

"Damn boy, I trained you good."

"Yes. Showed me what matters. Need to get bigger," you said in a trance. Any resistance felt far away now. You couldn't really talk in complete sentences anymore. "Bigger. Stronger. More powerful."

"We will get you there, bro," he said, sliding your mouth back onto his cock. We're going to get you there, together. Plus, then we can be reeeeaaal bros! Like, bros for real. We can tell my parents my bro came back. You can just enroll in school and come back with me. It'll be like he never left. And you actually get to be something, instead of being a dumb nerd. Everyone wins!"

You nodded. Real bros. He was like your brother already, kinda. Yeah.

"I love you bro," you said.

"I love you to bro- ahhh- AHhhhhhh"

You felt his legs tense and back arch a little, and a blast of his cum shot down your throat, then another, then another. The necklace got hot around your neck as you swallowed them. You gulped each down, feeling your body absorbing them, feeling him seep into you, take you over, and crush any chance you had of turning back. Yeah. Good. You didn't want to turn back. You didn't want the nerd loser in you to take control. This was you now. You were in control.

He thrust into you a couple more times as you licked the last of his cum off his cock. He tapped the back of your head twice approvingly as you finished him off and slid his cock out of your mouth.

"See you in the morning, bro. You won't remember this part tomorrow. You'll just wake up, see my putting my moisturizer on and gel in, and come to do the same. Like I said, I want that nerd inside you watching while we complete your transformation, wanting to stop it, but unable to. Because this," he said, placing your hand on his bicep, and placing your other hand on your own bicep, "just feels too good."

You nodded dumbly. "I love you, bro" was all you could say.

"Love you too, bro. Goodnight!"

You woke up the next morning, just as he said, to see him putting the moisturizer all over his face and styling his hair. You walked over, asking him if you could use some. He looked so good. You just really wanted to use whatever he used.

"Sure thing, bro. What's mine is yours."

He passed it to you. You took a thick glob out, smearing it on your face. It tingles a little bit as you put it on, like the shaving cream head. Part of you was yelling, no, that you didn't like this, that you wanted to keep your old life, that you didn't want to be his twin and give up everything you had, but that voice was quiet now. It was drowned out by the demands of your big, hulking body, your shrinking brain, the testosterone pumping through you, and the burning desire you know how to get bigger and look good, constantly. The old you needed to go. No matter how hard it tried, it couldn't stop you from rubbing the cream in deeper and deeper. Had... to... look.... good... you thought as you ran a big glob of his white gel through your hair.

You both watched, smiling, as your face bubbled and changed and your hair lightened and shortened, perfectly matching his, erasing the final part of you. His brothers Your chain got hot around your neck as a bunch of his brother's your old memories floated into your head. All the details of his your life, everything you needed to know to convince his your parents that he'd you'd come back home.

"It's so great to have you back, bro," your roommate brother said. "I been so lonely at the gym," he said flexing in the mirror.

"Good to be back, bro," you said, hitting the same pose.

His real brother never did end up coming back. You lived happily ever after as a dumb jock big boy, hitting the gym with your bro everyday.

#gay sub #gay domination #gay mind control #gay dad and son #gay submission #good boy #muscle daddy #submission #alpha worship #mind control gay #mind control #jock worship #jockification #jock transformation

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daisyvisions · 7 months

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✦ Day 19 - Face F*cking

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: academic rival!Changmin x afab!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.8K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), will consider this a dark fic, face fucking, blowjob, blackmail (sexual favor - don't read if triggering) , mean!changmin, slight fingering and mentions of it, slight handjob and ball massaging, dacryphilia?, some graphic descriptions, names used (sweetheart, whore, slut, good girl - wow that's the whole quad), a bunch of swearing, reader is basically being used here, let me know if I missed any more! Proofread once, will edit later if needed.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: Did not expect how this one turned out if I’m completely honest, but here you go! This was fun to write, different tone than what I usually do! Fun fact, story was based on this little Tumblr game I did long time ago.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

“Love me or hate me, both are in my favour.”

A picture quote you mindlessly scrolled pass as you were on your phone taking a break from a paper that was due at midnight. It’s not that you procrastinated this specific essay. In fact, you could even do it in your sleep. That’s just how fast your brilliant brain works.

Today just seemed like any other normal day. Wake up, go to school, come back home, the usual routine. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. But not even your brain could conjure up the events that were about to unfold in three… two… one…

Ding dong.

You looked up from your phone, eyebrows knitting together in confusion from the sound of your front door ringing. Who could it possibly be? You didn’t plan any hangouts with friends nor did you order any takeout for dinner. You think for a moment to check if you had any deliveries coming in-

Ding dong.

You got up from your chair and placed your phone down on the desk to answer the door. As soon as you swing it open your eyes slowly look up to meet another pair of eyes you were definitely not expecting to see at all.

His figure leaning against the doorframe like the men you read in your books. But only this time, you wanted to punch him.

“Hey sweetheart. Missed me?” He smirks down at you.

“Changmin? What the hell are you doing here?” You question.

“I could ask myself the same thing-” He suddenly walks into your hallway uninvited. You scoff at his rudeness (not that you were surprised, he’s always like this with you anyway.)

“Cozy-” His eyes survey the room. “-didn’t expect you to live in a place like this especially with that icy attitude of yours.” He turns his heel to face you, you roll your eyes as you close the door and walk towards him, meeting in the middle of your living room.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“No need to get aggressive, just here to collect that favor you owe me.”

“Favor? I don't owe you any favors what the hell are you talking about?” Your patience wearing thin as his words dance around you instead of getting straight to the point.

“Oh… you don't remember?” His eyes gleam with a hint of mischief. “Let me refresh your memory then-” He turns his back to you as he walks towards the couch and plops himself down, instantly manspreading and getting comfy as if were his own home.

“If I can remember correctly, you owe me a favor from helping ward off that jackass during Younghoon’s party. Grabbing my arm and pretending I was your boyfriend so that he could fuck off. Ringing any bells?”

“Yeah, and I thanked you for it-”

“No no no. You didn’t thank me.” He interrupts you. “You said ‘Never doing this again but I owe you one.’”

“That counts as a thank you-”

“C’mon now sweetheart. You’re smarter than that.” His black orbs staring you down, slowly making you feel unsettled. He suddenly gets up from his seat and walks towards you like a predator, slowly walking you backwards until your back hits the wall.

“Enough stalling. I’m here to cash in my favor now.” His hand resting at the side of your head.

“W-what did you have in mind?” Your voice slightly shaking. His other hands lifts to hold your chin before the corner of his lips slowly curl upward.

“On your knees…”

“I’m sorry?” Your eyes widen. Did he just-

“Are we speaking two languages? On your knees. Or else…”

“Or else what?” You try to play it cool and hide the fear coursing through your veins.

Suddenly, Changmin pulls out his phone, plays the video in his gallery, and shows it to you. You were like a deer caught in the headlights as soon as you saw the figure moving through the tiny screen. Said figure was moaning and playing with themselves like some kind of homemade porn.

It was you. It was a video of you touching yourself.

“Give that to me!” You try to reach for his phone, but Changmin already anticipated your moves by holding the phone high up beyond your reach.

“Nuh-uh. I didn't say you could touch my phone now did I?”

“Where the fuck did you get that?” Panic and anger radiating from your body.

“I have my ways.” He smiled at you as if he surprised a friend at their birthday. But this was not a gift at all.

“That was for my ex’s eyes only. How. Did. You. Get. It?” You attempt to reach for phone once again.

“Well, he's not the smartest of the bunch. Seriously you dated that idiot? Expected more from you.” He says with a disappointed tone.

“Changmin this isn’t funny. Delete that NOW!” You demand him.

“No can do sweetheart. Grant me my favor and I’ll consider. If you don’t, this hot as fuck video will be played in the auditorium for everyone to see. How will the whole school think of their precious little valedictorian now?”

As you look into his eyes, you could already tell he’s not playing around. You would know this, you see that look every time he would try to win against you. And you can’t put your whole reputation down the line. Not like this.

You gulp down the saliva in your throat and let out probably the biggest sigh of defeat you’ve ever uttered your life. You pulled the hair tie out that was on your wrist and hastily tied your hair as you sink down to your knees, looking up at him with the face of disgust.

“Such a good girl. Was that so hard?” He coos at you. “Now, get to it before I change my mind.”

You hesitate for a moment before you reach out your hand to touch his bulge. Your eyes widen in surprise and confusion as soon as you touch his already hard member.

“But you’re alrea-”

“What? You think I didn’t already touch myself watching your video?” He says this like it’s common knowledge. “Needed something to work with. And trust me, it fucking worked.” He smirked down at you.

“You’re disgusting.” You grimace at him.

“And you’re taking way too slow.” Changmin unbuckles his pants and instantly pulls out his cock from his boxers.

If anyone told you your rival’s dick was rock hard right in front of your face, you would’ve vomited. But here you are, in this exact scenario. His cock flushed pink with a hot mushroom tip oozing out with what you probably thought was the most delicious pearls of precum you’ve ever seen.

“If you want this done quick, you better listen to what I say got it?” He raises his eyebrow. You nod your head in response.

“Good. Now kiss it.” You immediately hold his length in your hand and close your eyes before giving the tip a light peck, already tasting him on your lips. You give another peck to his tip before kissing the under side of his cock. Planting each kiss gently but firm at the same time.

“Fuck that’s it. Keep kissing my cock.” Changmin hisses at the feeling of your soft lips. His hand resting on the wall the balance himself. He groans suddenly when he feels your other hand massaging his balls as you continue to leave hot kisses on him.

“You’re such a little tease you know that? That’s what I’ve always liked about you. Getting me so riled up all the time just wanna fuck the brat out of you.” He mumbles as he watches you.

You’re not gonna lie, hearing him dirty talk like that sends your core throbbing like a bitch in heat. You keep kissing his cock until you’re suddenly licking it, practically making out with it at this point.

And somehow you don’t even realize that you’ve stopped massaging his balls just to snake your hand under your skirt to rub little circles on your sensitive clit, trying to relieve the ache down there.

This action doesn’t go unnoticed by Changmin however, making him smile from ear to ear at the sight beneath him.

“Touching yourself now are we? You were always a selfish one.” He tuts.

“But that’s alright. I’ll allow it. Just thank me. Say it-”

You pause kissing his member to look up at him with a raised eyebrow, replacing it with your hand jerking him off.

“What?” You slightly tilt your head to the side

“Go ahead sweetheart…Thank me.” He holds your face with his free hand and places the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip.

“Thank me. Like the dirty little whore you are.” You scoff. Of all things, he’s still looking for that? His eyes go wide at your response.

“No? Rather take my cock instead of saying two simple words?” He pulls your bottom lip with his fingers, making you whimper from the slight tug.

“If you aren’t gonna thank me, then might as well treat you like a fucking slut.” As soon as Changmin says this he swats your hand away from his cock and grabs it firmly and squeezes your cheeks to open your mouth with is other hand and shoves his whole length inside.

Before you even have the time to process what’s going on, both his hands are grabbing your face as he fucks himself in your mouth.

Gluck gluck gluck.

That’s all the sounds you can hear ringing in your ears as Changmin groans in pleasure. He fucks your mouth with raw aggression, you’re sure your throat’s gonna bruise after this from how his whole length goes in and out. He’s bigger than you anticipated, making you slightly gag as small tears from fall from your eyes.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, especially when you’re like this.” He continues to fuck himself into your mouth. The way he manhandles your face as he quickens his thrusts has you getting wetter by the second.

And without warning he instantly shoots his hot load down your throat as his hips stutter. Swallowing the warm salty liquid as it infiltrates your taste buds… and it’s intoxicating.

You cough out and try to catch your breath as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, tucking it back inside his pants before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Such a good girl.” He looks down at you with a post orgasm haze in his eyes before zipping his pants up and walking towards the front door. Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“W-where are you going?” Your raspy voice calls out to him.

“You didn't think I was gonna stay did you?” He turns the knob and pulls the door open.

Before he sets a foot out of the door he looks back at you over his shoulder and smiles one last time,

“You really should've just said ‘thank you’ instead…”

#deoboyznet #ji changmin #changmin smut #tbz smut #tbz fics #tbz scenarios #tbz #tbz hard hours #the boyz drabbles #the boyz hard hours #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz smut #kpop smut #the boyz fanfic

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1d1195 · 4 months

Text

Dolcezza VIII

Read Dolcezza here.

Here's the last part. (I actually have more but not sure if it's enough for a full part.) Maybe I'll save it for an extra, please send feedback if you think it needs more. I hope you've enjoyed 💕

Warnings: angst. more stalking. more crying. some fluff. If it helps at all, I wanted THIS part to be a cliffhanger as well (you can make your own guesses where I would have ended it, mwahahaha), and I imagine if that were the case I would have received a lot of hate messages. Hence why the last three parts were so terrifying hehehe

~8.7k words

Harry thought about the first time he met her, when he physically bumped into her. The first expression he ever saw on her face was one of pain from how she fell so hard to the ground. Then there was the night she was sick, and she looked so physically broken, Harry wanted nothing more than to take that away from her with nothing more than minestrone soup. Their argument from a few days ago also induced a sad and broken expression on her pretty face.

On Friday she worked a half-day at home, which allowed her to get her car fixed—they gave her a rental to assure her the problem wouldn’t continue since it seemed that would be the case after the last bout of car trouble. Her apartment was clean, thanks to Harry. So, all while working quietly at her desk, she had to sit with the fact that even though they were in an argument, he still took care of her. She had to find a way to apologize to him. But unfortunately, Eleanor was right: she was extremely stubborn and hurt that he went through her stuff. It was obvious that going through her stuff wasn’t the problem. She was certain Harry could move in after a month and it wouldn’t feel weird. It was very much that Harry was worried that bothered her. She wished she had hidden the picture better.

After a lot of arguing with Eleanor, they finally came to an agreement. There were a lot of tears from both parties, but Eleanor made her promise that she was the line. She apologized for not telling her and Eleanor apologized for shouting the stuff about her inability to accept help in front of Harry. The irrational part of her brain could only handle one person worrying about her. Eleanor had known her longer and understood her craziness. Harry was wonderful. He probably understood it just as well and yet she couldn’t bring herself to let him in as fully as Eleanor.

On Friday night, she laid on her sofa and watched a lineup of movies that never failed to evoke rivers of tears from her to get them out of her system. All of Saturday was spent agonizing over her frustration with not speaking to Harry, trying, and failing to read her book and mindlessly helping James and Emma with their various requests. She read Emma’s beautiful essays making her feel more overwhelmed with how much her baby sister had grown. Around noon she met James halfway to get him groceries and told him repeatedly that she was fine, just tired each time he asked her what was wrong. Returning to her apartment made her feel exhausted as if it was already midnight. But her mind wouldn’t let her sleep, which would have been preferable.

That antsy feeling she had brought her to the gym. Using the stair climber felt like hell. It was supposed to help but it made her feel worse. Sweaty and more exhausted than ever, she returned to her apartment hoping she would just fall asleep after a while. Instead of helping in the kitchen on a busy Saturday night as she often did, she stayed in, staring at the ceiling above where she was lying on the sofa.

Fortunately, Eleanor FaceTimed her. She explained all her frustration with her family. How she felt so busy and overwhelmed. Her voice cracked and her eyes welled with tears. “I’m really worried about you, babe,” Eleanor frowned. “It’s like senior year all over again,” she reminded her. She knew what she meant—an overwhelming amount of anxiety plagued her as she applied for jobs and completed her final capstone project. All while managing to help James and Ethan with their own applications for college and scholarships. She nodded unable to deny how she felt any longer.

“I know,” she whispered sadly.

“If your car is still broken, why don’t you have Harry pick me up from the airport next week? I’m sure he won’t mind,” she said it so casually and easily.

It seemed they didn’t get to that part of the conversation the other day as Harry probably intended. Sighing heavily, she put her arm across her eyes. “You can’t get mad,” she mumbled.

“Babe,” she whined with a frown and looked at her, already hurt it seemed. “Are you serious?!”

She explained everything. A month ago, about the picture and note—Eleanor was very unhappy to say the least. How she didn’t tell anyone. Then she told her how Harry cleaned her apartment for her even though they were arguing about him telling on her to Eleanor. Then he found the picture. Her ridiculous reaction and why she felt so uncomfortable with people worrying about her.

“I think I’m in love with him.” She whispered, teary and sad with her own actions.

“Obviously,” Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“Maybe...I need to go down to the kitchen,” she sounded like she was suggesting a plan as she spoke to Eleanor. “I have to apologize,” she nodded decidedly. “I have to let him in and let him worry, don’t I?”

“Yes, you idiot,” her voice was devoid of emotion. “I know, really know how hard this is for you, but it’s Harry. He adores you. You can see it on his utterly expressive face. Someone like Harry can’t pretend what he’s feeling—and he wouldn’t either.”

“What if I’m bad at it? What if he doesn’t want to be with someone that’s crazy like me?”

“I’ve never seen you be bad at anything you set your mind too. Harry will forgive you. He’ll help you get better. Knowing him he’ll probably come up with a reward system of garlic bread for you if you want or kisses, if that’s your new thing with him.” She felt woozy listening to her best friend but couldn’t help but smile at the garlic bread idea. “As for not wanting you? You are crazy. Someone who isn’t in love wouldn’t worry about you the way Harry is.”

She listened as her best friend continued speaking but she couldn’t really focus on it suddenly because there was a distinct thud through the wall. A thud that she thought it had to be an actual elephant in the office because she was so sure that Antonio had the apartment sound proofed so thoroughly, that an earthquake could happen in the room next to her and she wouldn’t hear it. She tiptoed to her door, peering sideways through the peephole catching the door to the office was just barely opened.

Antonio was sick. She only knew that because she saw a picture of his sick little family on her Instagram feed earlier in the day. It was why she felt even guiltier about not going down to help in the restaurant because she knew that they would be short-staffed on a busy night without Antonio there.

So why was the door open?

She was trying to process why the door was open. She quietly stepped back from her own door, but she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Her brain tried to reason with her muscles that there had to be a reasonable explanation. Instead, her muscles continued moving; she pressed the volume button on her phone to turn Eleanor’s voice down even though she continued rambling about how Harry adored her and she was pretty sure he was in love with her too.

Not even the idea of Harry loving her could shake the nerves away.

“El... Eleanor,” she whispered listening intently to Antonio’s office door distinctly closing and three foreboding footsteps reaching her door. The clinking metallic sound of someone fiddling with the lock on her door came next. She had the phone pressed to her lips trying to soundlessly alert Eleanor as best she could as she scurried backwards as if the door was on fire. “El! STOP!” She hissed listening for more sound.

“What?” She could hear the eye roll in her friend’s voice. “You have to confront these emotions Harry is—” There was a low voice cursing outside her door as the lock was fiddled with more. She hurried to her bedroom with light footsteps praying it looked like she wasn’t home, closing the door as quietly as possible and then doing the same as she hid in her closet. Her heart hammered as Eleanor continued to give her all the reasons why she should just let herself love Harry. Just because she had dealt with people who didn’t appreciate her didn’t mean that Harry would be that way. In fact—

“Eleanor,” she whispered once more. But she heard the deadbolt creak open. Eleanor wasn’t listening to her. She had no choice but to end the call. Ignoring her immediate call back, she furiously texted Eleanor the scariest thing she had ever texted. She heard him creep across her living room floor. Her heart was in her throat, and she was lucky she peed right before Eleanor called when she got home from the gym, or she would have had a serious problem right then.

ANSWER THE PHONE Eleanor texted back.

She silently gulped and pressed the phone to her ear. She listened to Eleanor’s soothing voice. Her calmness despite the fact this was everything she knew Eleanor feared the first time she realized her best friend was being followed. The sound of him going through her stuff made her skin crawl. She should have listened to them; to El, to Louis, to Harry. Oh, she wished she called Harry.

Her body felt frozen with the phone against her ear. She couldn’t move. For everything she did for everyone else, she had never felt like this before. Not once had she ever been frozen in place. She never froze when she was scared—not when ten-year-old Emma broke her arm while she was bike riding and her eighteen-year-old babysitting self needed to hold it in place while James drove them to the hospital. When Ethan called saying James got in a car accident his freshmen year of college and he wrecked his car. When Dad told her that grandma wasn’t going to make it to her twenty-fifth birthday, and she should say goodbye. When Mom was worried about a strange lump she felt on her body, and she imagined life caring for her family without her mom anymore. When she promised to be the designated driver for Ethan and James and ended up standing between Ethan and another guy who had too much to drink arguing over something so ridiculous, she didn’t even remember it now.

Not once had she frozen in place like the way she was then. It was mortifying, all the fight and help she gave to everyone...it wasn’t there for herself.

“I know you can’t talk,” Eleanor whispered. She couldn’t do anything. She was frozen. If he made it to her bedroom, she wasn’t sure she would even be able to fight. That was the scariest realization of all. “I’m going to put you on hold and call Harry. I will be right back. If you don’t hear from me in five minutes, hang up and dial 911.” She hoped to GOD she could manage that if came to it. Hope the frozenness would dissipate long enough to dial 911.

It was one of those nights where everything was going wrong, and everything was too busy. Antonio was caring for Leo, the baby, and the missus—all sick with something Leo brought home from preschool, so Harry and Niall were left in charge. Normally, the sweet girl found her way down and situate herself at a station doing the takeout orders but given the little... spat (what else could he call it?) she seemed to be avoiding him.

His phone began vibrating in his pocket without pause for three full minutes, but he literally hadn’t a second to look at it. All he wanted was for the pretty girl to appear. He wanted to apologize profusely for overstepping. He just cared for her so much. Even if she wasn’t comfortable with how he handled things, he wanted to make it better. He cared so deeply for her it hurt to be apart from her without so much as a text message between them over the last two days. He managed to see her exit a car that wasn’t hers parked in her spot. At least her car was getting fixed. But he imagined she had another busy Friday and Saturday. He wished he could have helped more. Wished he didn’t mess up and revealed that he messed it up in a way he couldn’t fix it.

The moment the orders slowed, Harry was planning to race up her steps and beg for forgiveness.

“Dolcezza Ristorante. How can—whoa. Okay, okay!" Niall pulled the restaurant phone from his ear and shoved it at Harry. He could hear the shouting before he even brought the phone near his ear.

“Hel—”

“Harry! For the love of GOD! Do you never look at your phone!?”

“I’ve been—” He barely got a syllable out before Eleanor was spewing a stream of words that were somehow one sentence. Or maybe it was five sentences. Harry lost track of nearly everything, only understanding the gravity that came from the sound of her shrieking. She only made out a scattering of the important words. His eyes widened as he processed her speech.

Harry dropped the empty dishes of finished food he was holding creating a massive mess. Everyone stopped and looked at him. “Harry?” Niall asked.

There was a breath of silence and frozenness. It was like the sizzle of the food in frying pans, the simmering of sauces in pots had all stopped making noise as well. Then he moved, running the few short steps to the kitchen door to the alleyway. “Call the police!” he shouted over his shoulder. He dropped the phone in the debris as well leaving Niall to fish it away from the broken glass and listen to Eleanor repeat the words she just said to Harry.

Harry was outside the back door and taking the steps upstairs two and three at a time. The door to her apartment was already open which made his stomach churn. Quickly and quietly, Harry hurried inside. The place was a mess. It was not her. If Harry hadn’t a more pressing purpose, he would have considered cleaning it up for her again, just to make her happy. All the pretty decorations and all her belongings that made it feel so homey, were overturned, or tipped over. Papers and pictures were across the floor. Like a student on their last day of school, throwing out all the papers from the year in the air like confetti. Harry felt his stomach twist again.

“Who are you?” A voice asked.

Harry turned slowly to the sound of the stranger. The one that had quietly wreaked havoc on her life for so long. Harry’s eyes dropped to the long strap of fabric in his hands. It almost looked like a tie, but it was thicker. Something that was intended to go over her eyes or wrap around her hands, he was sure. His eyes traveled back to the stranger’s face. There was something off about him. His eyes felt hollow. Like there was a misconnection between his brain and the rest of his body.

Harry hadn’t a clue what to do. But this had to be better than her trapped in the apartment with a lunatic.

“I work downstairs. We heard a commotion,” he lied, knowing Antonio added extra insulation and sound proofing to keep the sound of the restaurant out of the apartment. “Where is she?” He asked.

His answering smile was creepy—like he only learned how to smile recently. It was so discomforting Harry felt his stomach flip again with worry. His creepy smile paired with the emptiness of his eyes filling with a look of sick sense of delight made Harry’s skin crawl. It took everything in him to not have a physical reaction to his words. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Don’t know how someone can hide in a small place like this.”

“You need t’leave,” Harry ignoring the words he said. If he didn’t process them, they wouldn’t mean anything. “Now.”

“I thought I lost her,” he ignored Harry. “Then Eleanor... she came to visit and posted that picture of her. You could see the takeout bag in the background. It was a matter of time. I don’t want to lose her again.”

The man was delusional. Harry could see that. But his heart quietly broke for Eleanor, knowing she would lose her mind if she found out she was the reason her best friend was found by this guy. He silently vowed he would keep that to himself for as long as humanly possible.

“Listen. If y’don’t leave. Y’lose her. For good. If y’leave,” he swallowed. It felt like a gulp of vinegar. “Y’might get t’see her again.”

“She likes games,” he remarked rewrapping the strip of fabric around his hand. “It was like a scavenger hunt trying to find her,” he explained. “This is just another game.”

Harry tried to discreetly look for her around the open space. There was no way she was in this open room. There was nowhere to hide. Not unless she was somehow inside her sofa or under the kitchen sink. But... she had to be somewhere. There was only one real way out of the apartment and there was no way she would get through the door and down the creaky steps without him knowing after he saw her exit the rental car.

The wrought iron fire escape wouldn’t fare her much better. He would be down in the alleyway before she reached the bottom. Escaping wasn’t an option. Harry cleared his throat trying to feign innocence and help. “Can I help y’look?”

He nodded easily. Having no clue that Harry wasn’t there for anything other than making sure there wasn’t a commotion because he worked downstairs. It was very clear that he was ill. It made him sick to think she had brushed him off for so long. Played that it wasn’t a big deal. It felt horrible. All of it. Harry’s bones felt like mush.

“I need to check the bedroom and the bathroom.” That much was obvious. He had ransacked her entire apartment.

A fifty percent chance of rain was strong enough for Harry to walk around with an umbrella. When he took tests in his algebra class almost fifteen years ago, narrowing his multiple-choice questions to two choices was the best thing he could manage when he struggled with a question. The coin-flip wins he had with Niall each time they had to vacuum the main room at Dolcezza had left him with an impressive 38-102 record that he was certain the coin was always favored on his behalf.

Right now, a fifty-fifty chance may as well have been the chance of getting struck by lightning or winning the lottery.

Harry had to pick correctly.

He did a quick mental inventory of the bathroom and bedroom. Hiding in the bathroom almost made more sense. The door could lock. But if it was locked, it might make him angry—it seemed almost too obvious of a choice. He would break the door down knowing she was in there. It would be bad. The small linen closet maybe could hide her, but he wasn’t certain. His mind sprinted through the furniture in the bedroom.

“I’ll check the bedroom,” he tried not to run in there suspiciously. He checked under the bed, relieved she wasn’t in there. The tall wardrobe he had helped anchor to the wall after she decided the bookshelf was firmly in place and she had visions of the wardrobe falling on her was also empty. The only real place left that could hide a person was the closet. If she wasn’t in there, Harry would cry.

There was nothing else he could do but open it and see if he was right. It was like he was ripping a band-aid off. He yanked the door out of the way.

Harry thought about the first time he met her, when he physically bumped into her. The first expression he ever saw on her face was one of pain from how she had fallen so hard on the ground. Then there was the night she was sick, and she looked physically broken, Harry wanted nothing more than to take that away from her with nothing more than minestrone soup. Their argument from a few days ago also induced a sad and broken expression on the beautiful face he was so in love with.

Nothing compared to the look of anguish in her eyes and her shaky lower lip right at that moment he found her frozen still in her closet. Her phone was clutched to her ear in both shaky hands. Eleanor undoubtedly at the other end whispering to her to keep calm. Harry had never felt anything like the warmth spreading through his whole body seeing her pretty being there, perfectly whole, and beautiful. Whether she was terrified or not.

The relief Harry felt seeing her before him almost knocked him to his knees before her. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold her, whisk her down the steps, bring her to the kitchen, and feed her as much garlic bread, eggplant parmigiana, and minestrone soup as her heart desired.

He had to get him out of here. He gazed at her for a moment longer, his mouth pursing into a frown and he closed his eyes. “She’s not here,” he said evenly and closed the closet just as quickly as he opened it. He headed back to the main room where he noted that he had in fact, torn apart her bathroom as well. He frowned dejectedly.

“She has to be here. It’s seven-thirty. She’s always home at seven-thirty. That’s when she watches Jeopardy.”

Harry thought he was going to throw up. Knowing her schedule wasn’t something he had fully processed. “Maybe she’s not here,” he suggested.

“No, her car is in her spot. She had to get a rental while her car is in the shop.”

Harry was certain he was going to throw up.

“Maybe she hit traffic,” he tried instead.

“She always leaves time for traffic.” Harry strongly considered just slamming his head into the wall. “You’re lying,” his voice wasn’t accusatory. It was factual. Somehow that was worse. His hands tightened on the length of fabric once more.

“What?” Harry shook his head trying to feign calmness. But his heart started to speed. His fingers started to feel numb.

“She’s in there,” he sounded... excited. Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest. “Honey,” he called almost gleefully and started for the bedroom.

She pressed her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Or vomiting. If she made a sound she was done for. Harry knew she was here. She knew Harry was there to protect her. Even after she pushed him away because he was the first person to show her what it was like to be cared for by someone else. Someone who didn’t take advantage of her kindness. Someone who wanted nothing more than to make her feel better when she was down.

She thought she was going to collapse on the floor of her closet when Harry yanked the door out of the way. She didn’t know if it was her stalker at the time. The weight that lifted seeing someone she knew... and someone she knew would help her, crushed her. Harry looked about as pained as she felt, and she didn’t know what to do or say so she simply stood there in shock and let Harry take care of her.

She’s not here. He said closing her back in the closet.

“Oh, thank God,” Eleanor whispered to her ear.

Eleanor had called Harry who knew how many times before she called the restaurant. Within seconds of switching back to her while she hid in the closet, listening to him ransack her living room. “He’s coming,” she promised. “Niall called the police,” her voice was so quiet. “I wanted to get back to you,” she explained. “I... I don’t want him to get away,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, babe,” she could hear Eleanor’s tears and she wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but she was still frozen like a block of ice.

Hearing Harry’s warm voice feign calmness made her melt. Watching the shadowy figure in her room made her want to scream but she was still stuck in place. Eleanor was whispering comforting things. Quietly begging to no one that Harry get to her first.

Her heart was beating so fast and there was sweat on her hairline. Her phone slid in her grip with the anxiety she felt causing her hands to sweat as well. She clutched the phone to her face even harder. Listening to his exchange with Harry and Eleanor’s quiet reassurances did nothing. She was so scared. She closed her eyes as if not seeing the inside of her dark closet would make it go away. Her body was thrumming with a heartbeat that seemed to appear in every inch of muscle. It made everything ache.

“She’s in there,” his voice was excited, and the tears found their way around her hand cupped over her mouth. With her eyes still closed, she could hear Eleanor whispering something, but she was too scared to process the meaning. “Honey!” He called. Like he was home from work, and this was normal. She heard him twist the doorknob to her bedroom.

She was going to be sick.

She inhaled to scream but instead, there was a commotion then. She imagined the soundproofing failed. It surely sounded like two adult men landed hard on the floor, the thud had to have transferred through and down to the restaurant. She was shaking. Every inch of her body. She could hear more of her belongings breaking and toppling hard on the ground. It felt like her lungs were shaking inside her ribcage with each quiet breath she had to take silently. She listened to the grunting and sound of punches landing.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes, but it felt like hours.

The swears and grunting stopped. There wasn’t a sound. Then a door slammed shut. It sounded like the door to the little laundry room. “El,” she whispered soundlessly, her voice hardly loud enough to get the syllable out.

“I’m calling the police again,” she switched the line leaving her in silence. She knew it was the right thing to do, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be left alone with someone entering the room.

“Principessa?” Harry’s voice was in the room.

She was frozen, terrified. What if it was a trap? He had gotten hold of Harry, had a knife to his throat or something equally disastrous. Her hand shook against her ear wishing Eleanor was back already. She couldn’t make sense of it.

“Kitten?” He tried again, his voice was gentle.

Her knees buckled.

“M’gonna open the door, my love,” he whispered softly.

The doorknob turned.

Finally, she had strength again. Her fight, flight, and frozen abilities finally shifted from frozen to fighting. She threw herself at him hoping to knock him off his feet and out of balance. She was so worried that it was still a trick. She was going to run downstairs and into the kitchen ruining the dinner rush, but it would well be worth it. She was too scared to process anything that was happening and she threw her bodyweight at him and threw her fists at him as best she could.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry gently cooed, grabbing her wrists as she tried to wrangle herself away from him now that she had thrown him off balance. “Hey, hey, Principessa,” she continued squirming and throwing weak punches at him while still terrified. She was grateful she wasn’t so scared that she couldn’t fight back after all.

Despite everything, he was so proud of her for not giving up. Even if the danger was completely gone just yet. “Hey, s’okay, now, Principessa, m’here,” he promised and gave her wrists a soft squeeze. She finally stopped, going limp in his arms as she realized she was attacking Harry and not her stalker. Harry gave her a forced smile. Mixed with a grimace. “You’re okay, kitten. M’here,” he repeated cupping the side of her face so he could lock his gaze with hers. See that it was alright, that she was safe now.

She broke.

It was a miracle she could still stand but she probably had Harry to thank for that. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered her eyes flooding with tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” she sniveled covering her face now that Harry had released her. “I thought I could... I thought I could handle it. Handle it all...” she hiccupped. “But I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I was so scared, Harry,” she whimpered. Harry knew his face wasn’t holding neutral or positive. He felt as broken as she sounded. “I’ve been tired and scared for so long and there’s been no one—” her sob choked her words.

Harry thought his heart was going to split right in the middle. If it did, he wanted to give her half of it just to make her whole again. Just to make the pain stop. He tucked her head beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Oh, Principessa,” he cooed. “M’here,” he promised kissing the top of her head and soothingly rubbing his hand up and down her spine. “M’here.”

“I—” She tried to speak but the tears and emotions coursing through her stopped her vocal cords again.

“Shh, my love, shh,” he cupped the side of her face against her chest. His thumb stroked her damp cheek, and he kissed her hairline again. “M’here,” he repeated the promise. She was overwhelmed by how warm Harry was. His arm wrapped around her waist holding her tight against him. It was the first time she felt safe in hours... weeks if she was honest with herself. Harry held her silently, letting the tears and shaky sobs subside as her body shook against him. It made his chest tight with anxiety. To think she had been holding in all those emotions for so long just so others wouldn’t worry about her. “M’always going t’worry ‘bout you, kitten. Danger or no danger,” he promised.

She sniffled and pulled away from his embrace so she could wipe her hand on her cheek and Harry smudged his thumb across her other cheek brushing the tears away. Harry was scanning her face making sure he got each salty drop and every tear track off her face. As he did, she couldn’t stop staring at his concentrated expression. “I think I love you,” she whispered.

It was as if someone had put a defibrillator on his chest and shocked him. It felt like his heart was beating twice as much and he could hardly breathe as she whispered those perfect, beautiful, sweet words. His thumb stopped smoothing over her skin. His gaze dropped to her eyes again, as she looked at him, her breath shaky and she sniffled again shaking her whole body again. He started to laugh. Despite the situation, despite the worry, despite everything that was going to happen as the impending sirens got closer and closer to them. “I know I love you, Principessa,” he tilted her head up beneath her chin.

He did know. He loved her so much. It was overwhelming. The moment he laid eyes on her. The moment he touched her arms and helped her to her feet. When he had carried her things to her apartment. When she played with Leo. When she was sick. Each time she helped in the kitchen. Or when she bought him the book that he looked at for thirty seconds longer than all the rest. Every single second of knowing her, he fell more and more in love with her.

“Even though—”

He shook his head, rubbed his thumb on her lip to silence her. “I love you,” he said simply. The red and blue lights illuminated her apartment, and she heard more scary thuds ascending the staircase. “Nothing else.” She sank into his embrace and allowed herself to let go. Let someone else take care of things for a few moments.

The police were thorough. They stationed someone outside the building. Harry didn’t let go of her hand and wouldn’t let her leave his side. He was insistent she stay in the bedroom as they entered. They took pictures of everything in her place and Harry stood conveniently in front of the bedroom entryway while they brought her stalker outside. Harry assured Eleanor that she was okay while she cried against him. She would call back in a bit, but they had stuff to deal with.

“Thank you,” he croaked gratefully. The thankfulness he felt for Eleanor was so immense.

“Yeah, same to you,” she sniffled. “Don’t forget to call me,” she said seriously despite the sadness in her voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised. The police asked about a thousand questions which was exhausting in its own right. Niall finally rushed up, seeing the police bringing the guy down and he nearly got himself arrested for being so swift.

“He’s okay,” she promised with a shaky voice. They let Niall enter, who immediately gave her a huge, awkward hug because Harry wouldn’t let go of one of her hands.

“The whole restaurant is in limbo worried about you. All the regulars are worried about you,” he sighed. “I had to come up,” he explained sheepishly.

“I’m sorry—”

“Oh my God,” Harry shook his head and Niall kissed the side of her head.

“Tesorino,” he chuckled. “It’s so okay.”

“But Harry’s not—”

“Harry needs to be up here with you,” he promised. “The restaurant is very understanding,” he explained. “This isn’t something to worry about, Tesorino,” his tone was so reassuring. “M’gonna go back down and spread the good news,” he smiled. “In the morning, we’ll have breakfast, yeah?” He asked glancing at Harry briefly. He nodded quickly. She wasn’t leaving his side and she certainly wasn’t spending the night without him

She nodded with another smile. “Please.”

“I’ll cook this time,” he winked and squeezed her one more time before heading back down.

With the open door to her place, she couldn’t mistake the thundering applause the erupted from the restaurant below her. It made her tears begin to flow again. After several more questions, an EMT scanning her for any sort of damage and repeating her statement at least two more times with the help of Harry, she thought they were finally done.

“Hey!” One of the officers shouted. Harry looked the most alarmed and shoved her protectively behind him as the sound of thundering footsteps echoing up the stairs once more.

“Where is she?!” He sounded like he was going to cry.

“James?” She whispered, pushing herself from behind Harry.

“Oh, thank God,” he strode across the room, stepping on overturned debris and even though she was older than him, he lifted her off the ground. But that’s when the tears started. “Jesus Christ, Sis, why didn’t you tell me?!” He croaked. She blinked in surprise holding onto him as he crushed her to his body. Her lips parted in shock. She glanced at Harry who smirked at her with a touch of sadness in his eyes.

However, there was more commotion downstairs. “I’m her mother!” She could hear the anguish and felt it in every inch of her body.

“Oh my God,” she whispered beside James’ ear and looked up at Harry once more.

“I got it,” Harry pressed his hand on her back. Her feet were back on the floor, but James still didn’t let go. Harry quickly looked down the steps to assess the new guests. “Y’can let them up. S’her family.”

Emma looked practically animalistic, flying up the stairs, almost on all fours with the speed she took the steps. She made it to the doorway—nearly shoving Harry out of the way and all but crawling across the floor with the momentum she had built up making her way up the steps. She flung herself at her siblings wiggling herself between James who still had not let go of his older sister for a moment. “How could you?!” Emma sobbed, muffled, and squished between her brother and sister.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. “Em, I’m—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re okay,” she hissed but remained clinging to her.

Her parents soon joined their hug asking a thousand questions that she was simply too exhausted to answer. “You don’t want to get in on this?” She asked with a watery voice. Her words floated over Emma and James who refused to let go of each side of her after a kiss on the top of her head from both her parents. Ethan was last in the room, he stood idly near them. He smirked at her question.

“Want my own hug, beautiful,” he winked. Harry snorted, ignoring the jealousy running through him because he believed Ethan was probably way more worked up than he was letting on for the sake of looking like a normal person. She felt her face warm and glanced at Harry who was smirking. “You gave us all the scare of a lifetime.”

Harry was asked to relay the story to her parents, which he did so gratefully. The shock and hurt they had on their faces realizing this was the first they knew of someone stalking their baby.

“Ethan had to drive,” Emma sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she finally pulled away from the embrace. James didn’t want to let go, it seemed. He stood so close to her, his arm touching her. Like he was pressing into her side.

“Sounds like you all had scarier things to deal with,” she looked at Ethan who scooped her up again lifting her off the ground the same way James had. He kissed the side of her head, and she squeezed him back. Ethan wrapped her in his embrace when he whispered something in her ear with a smile. Almost immediately, she pulled from him and punched his arm. “You always ruin something nice.”

“Sweetie, that is not funny,” her mom said tearfully turning her attention to Harry. “Thank you,” she said seriously.

She giggled, making Harry’s heart sing now that he wasn’t as worried. “It’s kind of funny.”

James hadn’t moved from her side, looking at her in awe. His oldest sister was his hero. This hurt him so much. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“James,” she sighed.

“No! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have—”

“There was nothing you could do, James,” she whispered. His lower lip wobbled, and his eyes filled with tears. He looked at the floor. She knew he was upset, obviously.

“One of the people at my internship, said your name out loud. I read the transcript it was Eleanor... I... I didn’t know this address. I had to look up the restaurant. I...”

“Jamie,” she hadn’t used that name since they were young. James had been James since he started kindergarten. She reached out for him again, tugged him toward her. “I’m okay,” she promised. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly, rubbing her hand up and down his back and tucked him into her embrace, holding the back of his neck as he shook with sobs.

It broke Harry’s heart knowing she was comforting her family over something that happened to her. But maybe it helped. Distracted her for the moment until she was able to deal with this. Harry wasn’t letting her go the second they left. He would comfort her the way she deserved as soon as they were gone.

Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Eleanor. He said hello, flipped the camera around, and showed off the room. “Jeez, you let Ethan and James throw a party?” Her voice cut through all the comfort and tears.

“I resent that, Eleanor,” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“How are you doing, babe?” She asked with a smirk, seeing her holding James like he was her little brother again and not a foot and some taller than her.

She was still holding James who refused to remove his face from her neck. “I’m good,” she promised. “Thank you.”

“It was a team effort,” Eleanor smiled. “Think Harry deserves the biggest of thanks,” she said knowingly.

She nodded against James’ hold and looked over to Harry. “Mmm,” she hummed. “I think so too.”

Her family stayed in her apartment. They were insistent. Now that the pictures were taken, they were going to clean it up. All five of them. “Dibs on the underwear drawer!” Ethan said excitedly.

“You’re disgusting,” her dad grumbled.

“Can you arrest him too?” She turned to the police officer with an eye roll.

He pouted and the officer chuckled. “A guy can hope,” he shrugged helping James with the kitchen. Her mom helped her pack a bag for Harry’s, telling her how nice her place was. Even ransacked. It smelled delicious. Her dad was impressed with how the furniture was anchored to the wall and when told it was Harry’s doing, he thanked him once more for caring about his eldest.

Niall made a second trip up with a box of food for everyone to eat. Everyone sat and ate, moaning about how good everything tasted amidst the messy overturned furniture, broken glass from picture frames, and other decorative things. No one minded. Emma sat next to her as well as James who refused to let his gaze move from her.

“I’m okay,” she murmured to both. She kissed the top of Emma’s head and patted James’ knee. He shook his head holding his phone up to show him all the texts from his girlfriend.

I know you’re busy, but please keep me updated. I’ve never met her but I’m also super worried.

She frowned look at James with watery eyes. “I love her already,” she promised.

There was a lot of logistics to figure out. Her mom said they planned on leaving early in the morning to get belongings back home before returning to a hotel nearby so they could help with whatever she needed for the next couple days. “You’ll stay at Harry’s for a few days?” She asked, glancing at Harry.

“Yes,” he said before she could brush it off. “M’not...” he smirked and looked at his lap. “Don’t want her out of m’sight,” he admitted.

“Good,” everyone nodded in agreement.

“You don’t need to stay,” she assured them. “It’s really okay now.”

“Forgive me, but I have a hard time believing you now,” her mom made the same angry face that she always made. A crease between her eyebrows, a frown on the corners of her mouth.

“I know that you just went through something scary,” Emma began. “But do you think—”

“Jesus Christ, Emma!” James nearly shouted.

“Let me finish!”

“You’re such a selfish brat! You’re probably the reason she didn’t tell us with all your essays and—”

“Children—” her mother started.

“ME? You’re the one she’s been buying groceries for because you spend your money before it reaches your bank account—"

“You two knock it off!” Her dad shouted. Ethan snickered and shook his head chomping on the garlic bread that Harry honestly wanted to yank out of his hand so there was more for her to eat. She smirked and turned to Emma, her back to James, which Harry was sure felt like a slap in the face to him.

“What do you need, Em?” Harry kind of wanted to yell at Emma too for asking for something. But he waited because obviously the sweet girl knew her sister better and clearly sensed something kind at the end of her request.

“Could we make cookies together, tomorrow?” She asked, looking like the little girl that broke her arm and she had to comfort for a whole car ride.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I’d like that,” she promised. “You two will have to help too,” she said looking at James and Ethan. James was scowling at Emma’s satisfied smile of being right.

Ethan smirked. “Would love to see you in an apron, beautiful.”

Harry drove her back to his place before the restaurant closed. Niall said he would hang back for longer to give them time to get settled peacefully. Harry refused to let go of her hand. It was almost eleven thirty when they parked in his driveway. The exhaustion was so heavy it was a miracle she could stand. But Harry was probably to thank for that.

There wasn’t much talking in the car, but she was glad to hold his hand. She knew they had lots to discuss but she was tired. Harry was surely tired too. He grabbed her bag. “Do you think Ethan and James should sleep in the living room?” She asked suddenly as Harry unlocked the front door. Harry could see her mind spinning rapidly. It was like she was awake again, caught a second wind from the spiral in her own mind. “Just in case? I don’t want something to happen to Emma or my mom. Oh, I’ll have to fix Antonio’s office tomorrow. Oh... oh we didn’t tell Antonio—”

“Principessa,” Harry ushered her inside and dropped her bag on the living room floor. In the same movement, he cupped her face, and looked her squarely in the eyes. He pressed his thumb on her lips, silencing her. At once, her eyes softened. The forehead crease disappeared. Harry thought this was better than winning an award just to see her relief coat her face thanks to his gentle encouragment. “S’okay,” he promised and kissed the tip of her nose. “We’re not worrying about anything else for tonight.”

“But... I feel really bad!” she pouted below his thumb making a rush of electricity throw through him where his thumb touched her lips. “I know I hurt your feelings and I wanted to talk—”

“Kitten,” he shook his head. “Not tonight,” he promised. “Y’went through something really scary—”

“So did you!”

“—and s’far as m’concerned, you are a hundred percent forgiven. M’glad you’re alright. We can discuss anything y’want in the morning,” he promised. “But we’re not worrying ‘bout anything but kissing and sleeping tonight,” his voice was so serious, and it made her flush that pink color Harry worried she wouldn’t show him after their argument. It felt like ages since he had seen it when realistically it hadn’t been more than two days.

“Well, can we worry about the shower or something? I feel like I smell terrible, and I need to get this night off me,” she wrinkled her nose cutely.

“I think y’smell good,” he chuckled tucking his face into her neck and pecking at her skin. “Can y’even stand long enough for a shower?”

“I’m not getting in your bed all sweaty and gross,” she yawned. “I’ll sleep in the shower if that’s the case.”

He smiled. “Whatever y’say, my love.”

Harry gave her a head start on the shower and texted Antonio a brief update just in case he felt better tomorrow and made it in. After a few questions and a couple more reassurances that everything was okay, Harry finally told him about the most annoying part. I’ll clean up the office... he sent a row of eye-rolling emojis as well. Followed by the vexing part. She’s worried that it’s her fault and wants to assure you it will be clean.

Harry was surprised he was awake, but maybe the kids were keeping him up with whatever illness they were feeling. Tell her to shut up and she better not or I’ll never let her have garlic bread from the kitchen ever again.

Harry smiled, stripped his clothes off, and stepped into the warm steam along with her to get the grime from the day off. “I love you,” he reminded her.

She smiled. “I love you too,” she said sweetly. He cupped her damp face, brushing the suds from her shampoo away from her eyes and he kissed her so deeply and warmly, it felt like he was putting her back together with just a kiss.

Harry slipped on a pair of boxers and grabbed her bag to put in his room. She sat in just a large T-shirt she had left behind and a pair of his boxers as well on the edge of his bed. Harry brushed her hair for her and put lotion all over her body massaging the back of her legs and kissing her softly once he finished. As soon as her hair was brushed and toweled dried enough that she felt comfortable laying on his bed with damp hair, she slunk into his mattress and pillows with a long, heavy sigh. Harry immediately followed suit and wrapped his body around her. He kissed the back of her head and sighed in complete happiness.

His phone pinged with a text from Niall, stretching away from her long enough to find out he was pulling down the road. He knew that Niall did so that Harry wasn’t alarmed when the light from his headlights slid over the room and made him worried when someone entered the home. He still clutched her closer as he heard Niall shuffle right by his door, still nervous. But, somehow, she was nearly snoring already.

“Principessa,” he hummed.

“Hmm?” He wasn’t sure she was even a quarter awake. Maybe it was reflex to answer.

“I love you,” he kissed the back of her head. “So much,” he murmured.

She twisted awkwardly, exhaustedly, to face him. Harry draped his arm around the front of her pulling her closer to him despite the fact she could kiss the space between his collarbone if she wanted to. Beneath the covers she curled the arm closest to the mattress against his chest and the other held onto his hard hip. Harry pressed his lips to her forehead. Holding her in place and enjoying the feel of her soft skin below his lips. “I love you too,” she answered.

“Principessa,” he whispered. “I know y’need t’sleep. M’sorry. I really need t’say this,” he brought his hand back to her face and stroked his thumb against her cheek. She almost perked up completely, like she was fully awake. Harry felt a pang of worry course through him. She was so ready to give anything and everything of herself just for him. Probably for anyone. He imagined if James or Emma called right then asking for her to come back, she would. “You don’t bother me,” his voice was quiet, but deep. It made her whole body ache to hear him say it. “Ever. I was going to come up and apologize during dinner,” he admitted.

“Oh,” she giggled every so lightly. “I was going to go down and do the same,” she responded.

He chuckled and felt relief flow through him. “Really?” She nodded against his body.

“I won’t push you away... or I won’t like that. It’s going to take some time but... I really want to be better about accepting you being there for me. I really want that. I promise. I’m so sorry, I yelled at you,” she whispered.

“S’okay, kitten. I know... I know s’not easy,” he kissed between her eyebrows and rid herself of the pinch. “You’re forgiven. M’gonna help y’no matter what. No matter how much y’might not want me to,” he chuckled softly again.

“That’s...the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said or done for me,” she nosed at his chest sighing contentedly getting ready to fall asleep wrapped in Harry’s warm embrace.

It was perfect. She was so grateful for that little apartment. That perfect restaurant. Everything. “Sweetest, Principessa?” he repeated tiredness coating his voice, but he could talk to her for hours and hours tomorrow. But for now, he wanted her to know before she fell asleep. “For you, la mia dolcezza, y’deserve all the sweetness and more.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @crossyourpeter @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @theresnooneheretosave @emmaawbr @hermionelove @12yeahiminluvwu @cohnfusedarling

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #dolcezza

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ilys00ga · 3 months

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𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀.

➞ pair: yoongi x reader.

➞ genre: hurt/comfort (why do I keep making these lmao), established relationships, I'm so bad at tagging sorry.

➞ warnings: angst and fluff cuz we all need that (we really do). reader has anxiety and abandonment issues, yoongi is trying his best for the sake of both of them, just relationship things.

➞ A/N: requested by @parkjennykim, this was very fun to write! thanks for yet another idea <3 I hope u like it. I'm organizing this blog/post (?) while listening to mono, and let me tell yall, it's such a vibe omg. I think you should read this while listening to that album, I love it sm, I can't even begin to explain UGH- if namjoon ever goes on a world tour, he better perform every single song in that album, cuz imma be losing my mind in the crowd, esp during moonchild. my vocal cords are already getting sore. yeah. if u want this to hit that spot, maybe u should do what I said (this is a friendly order, if u will). if not, just enjoy and pls ignore any mistakes, english has been challenging me recently (for the last 10 years lmao)

ps. I am in a dire need of a yoongi in my life. specifically the one I wrote in this one. oh how I love being a lonely fanfic writer <33

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

God knows how long it had been after it hit midnight when Yoongi stood in the kitchen. His eyes were red and heavy with drowsiness, but he couldn't sleep that night.

How does one sleep through a restless, biting night?

Surely not with a bad headache, or overflowing thoughts, and especially not with guilt chewing on his core.

He gulped, throat begging to be quenched as it held onto a slight, delicious, yet bothersome burning sensation. He opened the fridge and filled a glass with some water, raising it to his lips when loud a cry of his name, followed with a thud and a number of sobs, disturbed the quiet of the night and made him jump, startled.

His limbs froze in their place, glass almost slipping his hand and crashing on the floor when his sleep deprived brain realized that the muffled cries were yours.

Wide awake, he dashed after the sound. Thirst and sleep no longer occupied his mind, all he could think of was holding you in his arms.

He found you on the stairs, trembling as you wailed into your hands.

He hated it so much: seeing you in pain. He wanted nothing more than to shield you from the rainfall of your gloomy sky, from his own rainfall, from the world. How could one be an umbrella and the rain at once?

He blinked, once, twice, then gulped and heaved a deep, tired breath.

One storm doesn’t require another storm to be calmed down, that he knew. One needs to be composed and collected to stand still during a storm, that he knew as well.

With worried eyes, he gently called out your name and walked up to you, “darling, what’s wrong?”

You looked up as soon as you heard his worried voice, some tiny sense of relief washed over you when you saw him right there. A hundred daggers digged so deep into his heart and bones, aching, the moment a broken whimper of his name fell from your lips.

Without a second thought, Yoongi hugged your face to his chest. One of his hands was patting your back and the other affectionately caressed your head.

As he listened to his name that never left your lips, Yoongi held you there on the cold of the stairs with nothing but sweet nothings whispered back to your ears.

Everything he did and said was so gentle and soft, like he was so afraid you'd crack and come to tiny bits and pieces at any given moment. It all made you want to cry even harder, to hold him so tight and never let go.

Soon, when your tears started winding down, pulled away and cradled your face with his hands, palms faintly pressing on your cheeks as if he hoped to share their warmth with you.

Tender eyes met your wet ones and stared as their owner’s voice made its way through the noise of your sniffles and hiccups. He said, “It’s alright. I'm here. Talk to me, hmm?”

You answered his plea with a small nod, before wiping your tear stained skin and hugging him again. He smelt like home. You took a deep breath, greedily feeding your lungs with his lovely scent.

He hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He pressed light kisses on your temple, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“I had a really scary nightmare. so, so scary- I woke up, didn’t find you there- then…then I remembered the fight we had earlier. I…I thought I lost you- I'm sorry. sorry for the stupid things I said earlier. I love you so much! please don’t leave. please..”

Your voice quivered with fresh tears ready to be spilled again. Yoongi started hushing you as soon as he noticed that you were working yourself up.

Squeezing you in his arms, he whispered “I never left, and I never will.”

“I’m all right, nothing happened to me, see?” he leaned away just enough to allow you to take a quick look at his body, then added, “a stupid fight is not going to make me leave. I love you way too much for that, and I'm sorry for hurting you too.”

He could still read fear and uncertainty all over your face, and he didn't like that. He knew that you trusted him, and he didn't doubt your love for him.

At first, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the insecurities, the anxiety and the nightmares you suffered from especially after the inevitably worst of arguments that happened between you and him. But after longer and deeper talks, with you expressing your feelings and him listening with careful ears, it made much more sense to him.

Sometimes he hated himself for triggering your alarms and making it harder for you, but he knew it was neither his fault nor was it yours.

Growth and pain are two key elements that come arm in arm with love, and fights are an unpreventable part of any kind of relationship. For all that, he always ended up blaming himself for making you question your worth to him when he can't even sleep without you happily cuddling his side.

Softly, lovingly, he started prepping tender kisses over your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, temples, all over your flushed face.

It worked like watching waving fields of green wheat dancing with the wind, your storm started to slowly die down and your heart felt at ease again. slowly, but definitely.

Smiling ever so affectionately, Yoongi sealed his reassurance with a loving kiss that consumed you whole, and it left the corners of your mouth curving up in a dazzling smile. You nuzzled his chest and sighed.

“I really hate fighting with you.” you mumbled into his clothed chest, drained and light headed from all the crying and nearly-a-panic-attack you went through.

“I know, I'm sorry. I hate it too." he whispered back.

There was a pause of comfortable silence, with both of you breathing each other in, before he wondered aloud: “did you fall down the stairs? are you okay?”

You chuckled breathily at his question, recalling the hysteria he had to deal with just a few minutes ago. But Yoongi was there, right beside you. your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, right by your side.

He had some kind of exceptionally irrepressible magic in those fierce eyes and that gummy smile of his, you inarguably couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“I'm alright. Was too busy crying, I didn’t even feel a thing to be honest.” you said, and he giggled.

“I love when you’re clumsy like that, but please be more careful, muffin. Can’t have you hurting yourself because of me even more." Even with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you could feel and hear the heavy pout in that comment.

Huffing, you leaned away with furrowed brows and a strict gaze. Yoongi gulped. Hesitation took over him, yet he knew that honesty is the only thing that must be present to drive this conversation to an end.

Honestly brings clarity, he found himself reminding himself of that very often.

"as long as we take care of each other, it's okay. I love you." you affirmed, and perhaps Yoongi almost teared up because of the way you looked at him right then and there. He wouldn't utter a word to spoil that information out loud, though.

The shy grin and the flushed cheeks you were met with were worth risking the entire world and its eight billion residents. You couldn't help but smile and pull him into another hug.

"This is great and all, but my butt is numbed. I think there's no blood flowing down there anymore," he said, his heart swooning when you giggled at his humorous change of topic, so relieved that he was finally able to hear your brightness again.

"Let's go back to rest, darling." He stood up, grabbed your hand and squeezed it in his, then gently pulled your body up and dragged you to your shared bedroom, where everything and everyone else meant little to nothing at all as you laid in each other's arms.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #yoongi angst #hurt/comfort #suga fluff #bts fluff #suga angst #suga fic #abandoment issues #bts imagines #bts fic

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hysteria-things · 2 months

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FIVE

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and your former best friend chris sturniolo hang out for the first time in a long time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 822

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i added a promise? tag to make it easier to navigate!

nick is editing the recently recorded video when chris opens his door without knocking. nick lets out a yelp and aggressively takes off his headphones, staring up at his brother with horror and anger in his eyes. “for fuck sake!”

“stop yelling, it’s just me. have you heard from y/n?”

he gives him a look that looks like disgust, but his facial expressions are so similar that chris doesn’t know which emotion is which anymore. “not since the afternoon. why?”

“just curious,” he says, closing the door.

chris’s phone is on the kitchen island facing upwards. he taps the screen to see if there are any notifications, but there aren’t. he groans. it’s almost midnight, she has to be home by now.

as matt is walking into the kitchen, his phone goes off making him lunge across the island to grab it. matt stops in his tracks and looks at chris with wide eyes. “i’m confused.”

“keep on walking, lover boy,” chris says, holding up his hand in a shooing gesture. the boy rolls his eyes and opens the fridge. he stays hunched over the island, a smile appearing on his face when he sees it.

y/n l/n is typing…

he didn’t bother waiting for you to finish typing when he opened up snapchat. your bitmoji is on the bottom left corner above the keyboard, the three dots in the thought bubble moving from side to side as you type. a breath of relief was released from him when your message popped up.

Y/N

| i made it home

| see?

| fine you win

| thank you for keeping your promise :)

Y/N

| as always (unlike you😒)

| I SAID I WAS SORRY

Y/N

| i know i know i’m just kidding

| you're lucky claudia kept throwing up or i would’ve stayed there for wayyyy longer

| LMAO

| that must’ve been fun to witness😍

Y/N

| for sure

| are you free tomorrow?

Y/N

| i have no life

| so yes!

| cool!

| do you want to hang out?

| like the good old days🥹

Y/N

| sure why not?

| BET

| i’m going to text you to plan i hate using snapchat

| see you tomorrow :)

matt approaches next to chris. he’s sipping a root beer he got from the fridge a few minutes ago. “you’re going to hang out with y/n tomorrow?”

chris hides his phone by bringing it to his chest. he stares at him with a look of annoyance. “can you not snoop at my private conversations?”

he shrugs. “i wasn’t snooping. it just so happened to be in my eyesight.”

“get out of here, lover boy.”

you’ve been writing in your journal more frequently than you have anticipated. you’ve had this journal for a while but stopped for no apparent reason, but ever since the triplets, it’s been a number one priority in your eyes.

your brain moves faster than your hands, so you write down whatever your scrambled thoughts are telling you to. half the time you don’t even know what you’re writing.

that’s when you remember you’re supposed to hang out with chris today, so you place your pen into the crack of the book and start texting.

you get up from the bed and take a shower. after that, you find a decent outfit and throw it on. by descent you mean a black long-sleeve shirt and gray sweatpants. you’re basic like that.

walking to your parent’s room, your mother sits at her vanity putting the final touches on herself. you knock on the doorway, and she looks at you through the mirror and smiles. “hi, sweetie.”

“hey.” you reply. “so… just letting you know chris is coming over soon, even though you guys are going out anyway.”

“your father is in the car waiting.” she says, getting up and grabbing her purse. she grabs your shoulder lightly. “i’m glad you guys are starting to talk again.”

she kisses you on the head, exiting the room.

there is a knock at the front door, causing you to spring up from the couch.

you stand there for a beat before opening it. chris stands there with his hands in his pockets, lifting his head when he hears you. you look behind his shoulder and lift a brow. “your clones aren’t joining you today?

he laughs and shakes his head. “no. you didn’t ask for them.” you open the door wider for him to step in.

he looks around. “still feels like my second home.”

the heart inside your body flutters at the comment, but you clear your throat to distract yourself. “do you want anything? a drink or something?”

“i’m good, thanks.” he looks down at you, a grin plastered on his face. “i just want to hang out with you.”

biting your lip, you smile. “ask and you shall receive.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog

#[ ✿ ] promise?#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 month

Note

requests open YEEEESSS!!

first of all how are you my love?? hope you're having the best day 💗💗

i was thinking of a cute little fluffy fic that the reader craves something in the middle of the night, waking Pietro up and he runs to the store without even questioning it and getting it. maybe the reader says she wants something sweet but Pietro knows she hates sweets so he gets both something salty/spicy and sweets so he won't get into trouble? does it makes sense or is my brain broken???

i'm sending billions of hugs 🫂😽💗💜

hii angel!! im doing well thank you, how are you? hope you’re great<33 such a cute idea, thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

LATE-NIGHT SNACK.

pietro maximoff x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 423

Sometimes, you knew what you wanted, and on those other times, you had no clue.

You were struggling to get back to sleep, the thought of a post-midnight snack heavy on your mind. You didn't exactly know what you wanted - maybe it was a bit of everything.

Your slight tossing woke Pietro, and as if it were instinctual, his head poked up from his curled-up arm, brows furrowed above his tired, hooded eyes.

"What's wrong, baby? Can't sleep?" he asks, extending an arm, reaching to hold the middle of you.

You shake your head, scooching closer to him. "No. I want something, but I don't know what."

He presses a kiss into your cheek, closing his eyes as he nuzzles into you. "Like what?" he whispers, tone soft and sleepy.

"I don't know, like a snack. Maybe, sweets, I'm not sure," you shrug faintly, cosying up into Pietro - trying to distract your brain from your unknown cravings.

But he slips from your grasp, sitting up and standing from the bed. He trudges across the room —zombified from being woken up— and slides on a hoodie and a pair of shorts. He collects his phone and card, shoving it in his pocket before walking over to kiss you. "Let me see what I can do about that."

And before you could even process what he was up to, mere moments later, he was back - standing at the foot of the bed, a bag in hand and a gentle grin on his face.

"You didn't?" you smile, talking in disbelief, watching him pull items from the bag.

"If you didn't know what you want, then I definitely don't know what you want," he chuckles, slightly more awake than those minutes before. "So I got a few things," he explains, showing you the goodies he bought.

He hands you a variety of snacks: sweet, salty, spicy, sour, anything he could find really - picking up things he was almost certain you loved.

"You're so cute," you playfully frown at him, watching him undress and plop himself back beside you. "Thank you," you smile and kiss his cheek, then reach for one of the packets surrounding you.

He hums cutely, lounging into you - resuming his prior sleeping position. "I put water on your nightstand," he whispers.

You whisper back so as not to disturb him again. "You're the best," you rake through his hair, watching him doze off - eyes fluttering shut. "Thank you. I love you."

"I know," he murmurs, faintly smiling.

#tpersephonet #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff fanfiction

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gorgeys · 6 months

Text

MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT ★ camille l'espanaye

camille l’espanaye x femCEO!reader

again, you find yourself seated across from camille on a quiet night, and this time your flirting has real consequences

warnings: nothing really, it’s all sfw just some sexual suggestions

word count: 2440

note: this takes place before the court case and everything starts

also the ending is kinda rushed bc i just wanted to finish it sorry

the two regally dressed doormen opened each side of the gigantic glass doors, allowing your entry into the restaurant. famously known as the most elegant restaurant in all of new york city, it was unusually empty on this saturday night. all of the tables were barren except one against the far glass wall.

it was a table for two, already prepped with the proper silverware and two full glasses of wine. the table’s occupant didn’t spare you a glance as you took your time sauntering over to her. you knew she must be able to hear the loud clicking of your heels against the marble floor, especially among the off-putting silence, but her eyes were fixed on the sights of the city behind the glass wall. located on the top floor of a skyscraper, the entire skyline was visible through the glass walls of the restaurant. it was an especially astounding sight in the dark hours of the night when the city glowed brighter than the stars in the sky.

only when you placed a perfectly manicured hand over the cream tablecloth did she turn her head to look at you.

“and for a second i thought he might actually show up,” you said, still standing over her. you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “i should’ve known better.”

one of the waiters seemingly appeared out of nowhere to pull your chair out for you. you gave him a smile and your thanks before you took your seat and he disappeared into oblivion.

“roderick always has to send one of the minions to do his bidding,” you said, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in your chair.

“please, my father has much better things to do than deal with your antics,” camille said, reaching for her wine glass. her gaze was as sturdy as you remembered.

“and you don’t?”

“apparently not,” she said before taking a sip. “but you should thank me actually because he could’ve sent froderick instead.”

“you’re right, what a bore” you said. you suddenly leaned forward and rested your elbows on the tabletop. you pushed yourself so close to her that your chin hovered just above the candle in the center of the table. your face was illuminated so desirably by the light that camille wouldn’t have dreamt of taking her eyes off of you. “thank you, camille,” you said, almost in a whisper. the silkiness of your voice and the slight pout of your lips tempted and teased her. she knew exactly what you were doing yet you were still undeniably persuasive.

it wasn’t until you abruptly returned to your original position that she was pulled out of your trance.

“you're welcome,” she said plainly, adjusting herself in her seat.

the server brought over two identical hors d'oeuvres before scurrying back to the kitchen.

“but i’d like to think you enjoy my antics. you must like me a little if you keep agreeing to this,” you said with a knowing smile.

“i’m only here because the rest of my siblings are too incompetent to do…well, anything really,” she said, disinterestedly poking at the food with her fork.

“don’t lie to me. no one—not even your father—tells you what to do. you’re here because you want to be. and because you like me, don’t you?”

camille looked up from her food only to glare at you through hooded eyes. she hated your smug little smile and the way it made her feel.

“aww, come on, say it. say you like me. make me feel good,” you said, placing your hands over your chest.

as much as she would deny it, a little part of her brain wondered how good she could make you feel. especially when you looked as good as you did, all dolled up for her in that red dress. her eyes followed your hands which laid just above the hem. it was only then that she realized you had worn the same dress for your vanity fair cover last month. oh to be a fly on the wall during that shoot.

“i didn’t think a woman like you would need so much validation,” camille said, finally taking a bite. “but look at you being a pathetic little praise pony.”

maybe you were going crazy but you could’ve sworn you saw a smile itching at her lips. and that made you smile.

“i only want praise from you.”

she looked back up at you and you pursed your lips in an exaggerated pout. if only she knew how serious you were.

“well, you won’t be getting any. not tonight, at least,” she said.

your eyebrows jumped at that last part, intrigued by her suggestion.

“are you implying-”

“i’m not implying anything,” she quickly interrupted, predicting your every move. “are you?”

“depends.” you reached for your wine glass and took a long, thoughtful sip as you basked in the moment of silence you had created. you ignored camille’s expectant stare for you to finish your thought and let her sit with the possibilities of what you meant.

“i mean, you take me out on these expensive dinner dates, rent out restaurants for me, and expect me not to feel special? you do this for all of your girls?”

she scoffed at you. your attitude would be irritating if you were any other person.

“you flatter yourself too much,” she said, leaning forward. “if i wanted you, i would already have you,” she said with a self-assured nod and a tight, smug smile. typically that assertive tone left no room for argument, no matter how true or untrue her statement was. but that was never the case with you.

“oh, don’t lie to me, camille,” you said, leaning in to match her posture. “i know you’re like your father: intimidated by powerful women.”

camille’s eyebrows shot up, surprised by your sheer audacity, but her eyes and smile still held an element of amusement. not often was she curious—because in most situations she already knew too much—but the cunning look in your eyes pushed her toward that unfamiliar feeling.

“what else do you think you know about me?” she said, placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand as if she had all day.

“oh, just the regular things. i know that you’re lucky number five,” you said, holding up and wiggling five fingers. “i know that you and frederick are the only ones who are staying in the family business. i know…that you’re bright and very good at what you do.”

she was barely listening, lost in your face and your hypnotizing eyes that never strayed from hers. your words were blending together in her head, turning her brain to mush as she silently admired you in your natural state.

it was your power that had intoxicated her. not necessarily your business status or bank account, but the way you carried yourself. the two of you were alike in that way.

“and that’s why it’s strange that he’s next in line for CEO while you’re slaving away in the basement being daddy’s sock puppet.”

that statement sobered her up quick. you knew you struck a nerve when her brows pulled down and her eyes narrowed. she wasn’t hard to offend.

“god, i can’t believe saffron hasn’t crashed and burned because clearly you don’t know a damn thing about business,” she spat, teeth showing and venom oozing from her lips. “fortunato wouldn’t be a thing if it wasn’t for me cleaning up everyone’s load of dogshit. you don’t even know how much dumb fuckery i have to deal with; my father—my entire family owes me.”

“relax, camille,” you said in your smooth tone, unphased by her aggression, your lips daring to quirk into a smile. “that’s exactly what i’m saying; they don’t give you enough credit for what you do.”

suddenly camille was a bit lost as she was unable to figure out what your angle was. you now sounded so genuine that it was off putting. she had been so used to your play-fighting and exaggerated lust that she almost didn’t know how to take a real compliment from you. almost.

“thank you,” she said, pushing her back over her shoulder and averting her eyes toward the window. she was slightly embarrassed by her unwarranted, short-lived blow-up but made her best attempt to play if off.

“i mean, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that your brother’s a flamboyant idiot. i mean, i think i actually lose brain cells when he opens his mouth,” you said, smiling to yourself. “but, even if you’re playing for the other team, i can admit that you’re impressive. you’ve made yourself indispensable to fortunato. you’re twice the man he’ll ever be.”

camille tried to restrain herself but a smile spilled onto her lips. it ranked among the top compliments she had ever received. half because she knew it was true and the other half simply because it was coming from you.

your heart jumped, her rare show of warmth encouraging you to continue.

“i mean, just think about all that you could do if only you were given the means. anywhere you are is already a force to be reckoned with, but with you at the top of the ladder, fortunato would be impenetrable.”

“cut the crap,” camille said, remnants of a smile still playing on her lips. “what are you actually trying to say?”

she analyzed every twitch of your expression for a hint.

“what? i can’t just admire you?” you asked, tilting your head to the size and studying her as if she was a prized work of art.

she was a work of art.

she licked her lips, enjoying your adoring gaze.

“save it for the bedroom, y/n,” she said so casually, clasping her hands on the table. your stomach churned at the thought, your mind drifting. “i’m the one who called you here but you talk like there’s something on your mind.”

“just you. always you, actually,” you said. your smile was smaller and more thoughtful this time.

you had assumed that, with the court case looming, camille had come to broker a deal with you. as the CEO of a competing pharma company that was in good standing with the public, fortunato could greatly improve their image and reliability by partnering with your company, saffron. it was an obvious move, one you had predicted months before. you had just been waiting for the ushers to finally approach you. and in that time, you had developed a risky counterattack.

she was silent, her eyebrows raised and her lips pressed together, attempting to coax a response out of you. you breathed deeply and then you gave her what she wanted.

“maybe your father doesn’t appreciate you, but i would appreciate you so much.”

your emphasis was telling. you would never directly say what you meant but camille always understood. though there was a hint of something else lacing your strong voice this time. something not entirely sensual.

“appreciate? now what could you possibly mean by that?” she asked, wondering if your promise was simply flirtatious or if there was a deeper meaning behind it.

you chuckled and then you sighed, chastising her lack of deduction with the shake of your head. your fingers danced across the tablecloth like a spider crawling toward camille.

“you really can’t take a hint, can you?”

she rolled her eyes at your rebuke. meanwhile you leaned toward her, bracing yourself with your elbows on the table.

“you need to leave your father. and then i’ll make you mine,” you said. she was about to laugh but then she noticed your gaze. it was uncharacteristically straight and serious. that’s what made her realize that you weren’t joking.

“i mean that, if you leave fortunato, there will be a spot waiting for you at saffron. and i can guarantee you that it’s a much higher one than you currently hold. how does president sound? maybe even COO if you can charm the board.”

she immediately scoffed at you.

“you’re out of your goddamn mind, you know that?” she said, appalled by your request. still, it was a better reaction than you were expecting. “i…wh-what about the will, huh? i’d just betray my entire family and get cut off?”

“well, first of all, we both know you couldn’t give a single fuck about your ‘family’. it’s not like they raised you. and as for the will, it won’t matter in the end. you’ll be making more than all of your siblings combined working under me.” you subtly flashed her the diamonds on your fingers as proof. “ten or twenty million more won’t even make a dent in your back account. you’ll be the richest woman in the world. and do you know why?”

you stuck your chin up at her and smiled fully. she watched anxiously as the long expanse of your neck revealed itself to her and your eyelashes fluttered majestically.

“because you’ll have me. all to yourself.”

camille’s chin lowered, looking up at you through her own eyelashes as if to question the validity of your statement. you nodded reassuringly.

“what are you waiting for? i mean, fortunato is only on the decline. it’s time to do something good for once and jump ship,” you said.

you paused, noticing the hesitation behind her blue eyes. it seemed that she was actually considering your proposal. so you decided to lay the seduction on heavy.

“there’s nothing left for you at fortunato. but everything you could have is sitting right here,” you said, confidently motioning toward yourself. “i mean, come on, baby, look at this face and tell me you don’t want it, this body,” you said, smoothing out your dress.

the wrinkle in her brow and the slight gap between her lips was telling. that distant yet focused look in her eye told you that daydreams were whisking her off to far away places. she was imagining what her alternate life would be like, what it would feel like, what you would feel like. she was clearly conflicted.

“well, i’ll give you some time to think about,” you said, abruptly standing up from your chair. she didn’t protest as you picked up your half full wine glass. “in the meantime, don’t be a stranger,” you said, leaving her with a final smug smile.

you intentionally swayed your hips as you retreated from the restaurant, taking your wine to-go, reminding her that she would be stupid not to take you up on your offer.

“until we meet again.”

#camille l'espanaye x reader #camille usher #camille l'espanaye #the fall of the house of usher #tfothou #tfothou x reader #house of usher #house of usher x reader #fall of the house of usher #the fall of the house of usher x reader #fall of the house of usher x reader #mike flanagan #flanaverse #kate siegel

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