#i went at this ask a little too hard lol
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
cheekinpermission · 2 months ago
Note
"Riddle dressed like Heather Chandler with signature croquet mallet from the cover picture." - idk which of my identities thought about it
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Like this?
620 notes · View notes
megamindsupremacy · 2 months ago
Note
love the idea that stan, pre-realisation, would just put any “my brother-“ thoughts that popped up into the ‘shermie’ category into his head
my brother… the genius … always won the spelling bee… we were so close… i learnt to fight because i was uh. protecting my…. (much??) older brother? damn was he a wimp or something
stan, calling shermie up post everything: do you happen to remember like. a flying dinosaur from our childhood or is this another ‘wrong brother’ situation
shermie, who was very much not there: what.
aksdjfhsd yeah!! also I imagine there being a ton of angst potential because Stan remembers ("remembers" my ass, he doesn't remember shit) himself and Shermie as being fairly close as kids, because everything involving "my brother" is conflated with Shermie, until the Mystery Incident got him kicked out. But Shermie wasn't super close with either of his brothers because of the age difference, and also because I hc him as not being home very often and getting the hell outta dodge as soon as he was old enough. So poor Stan has an imagined closer brotherly dynamic with Shermie, who isn't maintaining this dynamic into adulthood because to him Stan is his younger brother who dropped off the face of the earth (sad) at age 17, popped up a few times in newspapers to get arrested and/or scam people, and then dropped off the face of the earth again at 27.
30 notes · View notes
citrine-elephant · 1 year ago
Text
claire telling leon in infinite darkness that his suit basically clashed with who he was makes me think that she'd see him in his re6 outfit whilst in china and just go, "yeah alright that's close enough"
she sees his slutty chest and nods. that's leon. that's mr slut kennedy
(as a disclaimer, "slut" is used as affectionate. as a man i'm uncomfortable using the term for women, but i will never use the term derogatorily. slut shaming ain't cool, any gender can be a slut. just be safe and practice consent!)
19 notes · View notes
gummyysharkz · 1 year ago
Note
appears adn makes you think about boomskateshot. then disappears mysteriously in cloud of smoke
HELLO i drew them ^_^ ERM i dont have like any headcanons for them like As a group tho rlly... i think theyd wear like Matching necklaces/bracelets or horn rings !!!!!! I LOVE THEM ALOT I LOVE THEM SOOOO MUCH im just not too much of a thinker :p
6 notes · View notes
the-punforgiven · 2 years ago
Note
You larp
I used to, yeah
Haven't gone out in a few years now, though
6 notes · View notes
tinystarbites · 3 months ago
Text
accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Tumblr media
Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes
Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired
(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)
HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.
His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-
It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-
“Spencer?”
He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-
“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-
He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –
“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”
An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.
After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.
And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.
For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.
“Hi.”
You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.
You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.
“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”
Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.
“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”
He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.
Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.
The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.
“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”
“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”
You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.
“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-
“Is it because you saw my nudes?”
Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.
“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“
“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.
“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”
Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?
“Therapy sessions?”
You just- ignore him.
“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“
Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.
He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“
You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.
“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.
Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.
“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-
You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.
“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”
You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.
“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.
“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.
Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.
“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.
You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.
“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”
“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.
You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“
“You.”
You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-
You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.
“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”
And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.
Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.
“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.
“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.
“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.
“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”
Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.
It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-
“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”
Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.
Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.
Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.
It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.
Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.
“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.
“What do you mean?”
You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.
“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”
Youryouryouryouryour-
Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.
“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”
You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”
It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.
“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?
You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.
“Sure. Whatever.”
And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.
You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.
“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.
Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.
“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?
There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.
You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”
Oh.
Oh.
You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.
Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.
It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –
A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.
He never knew he needed this so much.
“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.
Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  
“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“
Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-
Why?
Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?
There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?
“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-
Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?
“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.
“Spencer.”
The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.
He loves it.
“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.
Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.
You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.
He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-
“You like me?”
You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.
“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.
“You- You want me?”
Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.
…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?
“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”
Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-
“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.
He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?
“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-
“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”
Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.
“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.
Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.
You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.
Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-
It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.
A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.
“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.
“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.
“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”
And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)
You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.
You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-
It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.
“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.
He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”
ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”
“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”
And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.
“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.
Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”
At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.
You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”
And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.
“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“
“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”
But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-
Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-
“Baby, please.”
Spencer sobs.
Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.
“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.
Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.
“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”
Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?
“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”
He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.
He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.
Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.
“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.
He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”
You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-
And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-
He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-
“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.
You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.
He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.
You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –
“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“
You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”
Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”
He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.
“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.
“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”
You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”
“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.
“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.
Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-
“Please.”
“Please what, angel?”
“More?”
“More what?”
Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.
“More touch?”
Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.
You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”
He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.
“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.
“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-
“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-
“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”
You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”
The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-
It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.
You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.
The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.
Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.
But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.
Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.
“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.
“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.
You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.
You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.
You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.
You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.
When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.
“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.
“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.
You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”
That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.
“Words, angel.”
“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”
You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”
He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.
There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.
You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.
Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.
When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”
“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.
It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.
Probably the first reason.
He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.
Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-
“Take it off?”
You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”
Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.
Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.
Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.
He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-
“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.
You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.
Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.
“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”
Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.
Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.
Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.
Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.
Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-
fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-
You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-
“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.
“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”
It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-
He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.
“What do you say, sweetheart?”
There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.
“Yes, I want. Please.”
You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”
Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.
“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.
“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).
There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”
Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”
You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"
Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-
“Yes. That.”
“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.
“Rossi? Rossi?”
“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”
Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.
He adores you with every fibre of his being.
“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”
And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”
You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.
Ah well. It was still worth it.
“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.
But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.
“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.
“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.
“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”
Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-
He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.
With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.
He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-
“You ready, baby?”
He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“
“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.
It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.
You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”
He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.
“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.
“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.
“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.
You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.
That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.
“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”
He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-
“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”
The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.
“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”
Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-
You give a particularly hard thrust and-
Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.
He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.
“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.
“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-
“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.
You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”
“Killing me with sex?”
“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”
He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.
“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”
Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.
“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”
He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.
Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-
“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”
He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-
“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.
“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”
Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”
You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”
Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?
“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.
You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”
“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.
There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.
--
Bonus
“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”
Spencer chokes on his coffee.
“What?”
“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”
Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.
“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”
Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.
“Shut up, Morgan.”
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a
i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)
4K notes · View notes
eff4freddie · 26 days ago
Text
Sittin'
Tumblr media
Joel Miller x F!Babysitter Reader No outbreak Joel Miller AU - Words: 10k
Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI
You're working your way through medical school, supporting yourself by taking the occasional babysitting gig. One local single Dad needs someone to look after his 10 year old daughter Sarah on nights when he's late back from the jobsite. And it's all fine and good until your neglectful boyfriend decides to crash the party. Warnings: small age gap (Joel is 32, reader is in medical school), reader is babysitting Sarah as a side hustle to support her studies, Sarah is cute, reader has a shit boyfriend, Joel is trying really hard to resist, exhibitionism, thigh-riding, praise, dirty talk, thigh-humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, general defiling of a perfectly good granite countertop, Joel has opinions about how a woman should be treated as is not afraid to demonstrate them.
A/N: My attempts at writing PWP almost always end up like 10k lol. Whatever, I like a good slow burn. If you enjoy, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you - Freddie x
It was a hot night, the latest in a long line. You knew you were lucky getting to spend some of your evenings over at the Millers, simply because it meant you got to sit under Mr Miller’s air conditioner, the box wedged firm into the window in the living room, little droplets of water condensing and running down the pane of glass underneath it. You’d put a dishtowel down to protect the carpet.
You knew you were lucky, too, because once Sarah went off to bed you could spread your books over Mr Miller’s kitchen table, listening to the buzzing of the fridge as you tried to memorise the functions of the lobes in the brain. In class, your biomedicine professor had blown up balloons and handed out sharpies, inviting her students to draw the lobes in the right place, and yours had popped when you pressed too hard on the occipital lobe, and your lab partner had laughed and said that it was ironic, but you couldn’t figure it: the motor cortex would have been ironic, this was just startling.
You cracked your neck, rolling your shoulders and looking over to the clock on the wall. Nearly 10:30 PM. Mr Miller would be coming back soon.
Sarah was a good kid, and some nights she stayed up to ‘help’ you study, mostly by pointing to pictures in your textbooks and asking you to explain them to her. She’d hated the full-page coloured illustration of the eye, but had been fascinated by the heart, trailing her finger along the arteries, into the chambers, tracing the pathway in and out again. You’d make a cardiologist of her, yet.
Tonight, she’d only made it to twenty minutes past eight, her eyes growing heavy as she turned the pages of your book. This one didn’t have as many pictures, and you could sense her fatigue in the stuffy air.
‘What kind of doctor do you want to be?’ she’d asked, and you’d pulled your hair up off your neck to try and get some air on your skin. You weren’t sure how to explain it without sounding gruesome, without giving her nightmares. She was only 10.
‘When people have emergencies and they have to go to the hospital right away, they need to see a doctor to patch them back up again…’ you’d said, and she’d stared at you with a tiresome expression on her face.
‘I’m not a baby,’ she said, disapproving. You smiled at her.
‘Trauma surgeon,’ you replied. She nodded her head, deeming your answer satisfactory, and taking herself up the stairs to bed.
She was one of the easiest kids you’d ever babysat for, and over the years you’d racked up quite a roster. You’d started in high school, first saving up enough for the prom dress right in the storefront window, and then later keeping yourself fed during your undergrad. When you’d moved to Austin you’d rented a studio apartment in the back garden of a little old lady, a woman who had revealed herself to be an excellent cook if militant about her hydrangeas. You’d letterboxed the neighbourhood and picked up a few odd jobs but nothing lasting, until the evening you’d got a call from a very frantic Mr Miller, who was so beside himself he only asked how quick you could get there and didn’t even ask about your rates.
It turned out Mr Miller got caught up at the jobsite some nights, staying back later than he expected with his little brother to finish framing, or guttering, or wiring. He was running out of favours with his neighbours, he’d explained, and Sarah was still too little to feed herself. You hadn’t minded, his deep southern drawl doing something to you even over the phone, such that you found yourself cancelling plans just to go and sit on his couch that very evening, textbook over your knees.
Some nights with Sarah tucked up fast asleep you’d stand and stare at the pictures of the two of them, her holding up a soccer trophy nearly twice her size, him standing with his hand in his pocket, his other over the shoulders of a younger man you assumed was Tommy. If you were feeling particularly bold, or were procrastinating especially hard, you’d extend a finger and run them up and down the strings of Joel’s guitar, resting sentinel against the windowsill. You imagined his fingers pushing into the fretboard, the strings indenting the flesh.
It wasn’t even that he was handsome, although he definitely was. He was a young father, doing it almost entirely alone, and on any other man that would have made for grumpy, for overly tired, for entitled. On Mr Miller it made for kindness, for a nurturing type of strength, corded tight under his skin. For a single dad always thinking about his daughter, only ever wanting the best for her. For a man focussed on doing right for his family, small as it was.
You rolled your shoulders, the pre-frontal cortex just about beating you for the night. Just as you were wondering if the Millers kept any ice cream in the freezer, you heard the key in the front door. You listened as Joel followed the same routine, first toeing off his boots, letting out a little grunt as the second one hit the floor. You heard him huff as he stretched his back, rolling his hips in a little circle to try and get some stretch into them, before dropping his keys on the table and padding, surprisingly light on his socked feet, into the kitchen.
‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said, his pet name for you emerging on only the second time you’d sat for him and still, even after this many months, causing your stomach to do a little flipper.
‘Evening, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he tutted at you, moving over to the fridge and extracting a beer.
‘Told ya not to call me that,’ he muttered, but you could see the grin behind it. ‘How was my girl tonight?’
‘Perfect, as always,’ you said, smiling at him as he poured you a glass of sweet tea from the jug in the fridge without bothering to ask if you wanted any. You accepted it gratefully, suddenly noticing how dry your throat had become.
‘She’s a good kid,’ he said. He sat down, heavy, in the chair opposite you. The ceiling lamp buzzed above you both, and the light bounced off the fine sheen of sweat accumulating on his arms, on his cheeks. He glowed, even if it was under a layer of exhaustion.
‘You look tired, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he cocked a little grin.
‘You sayin’ I look like shit, Sweetheart?’ he asked.
‘No, never,’ you said, instantly regretting how quickly, how fervently, you had responded. He continued to grin at you, lopsided, the dimple on his right cheek popping out to greet you.
‘What is it tonight?’ he asked, and you held up your book to him. ‘The bio-mech-an-ics-of-thought: phys-ee-ol-o-gee of the brain,’ he intoned, before letting out a low whistle. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he said.
‘It’s interesting,’ you defended, unsure why. ‘So long as there are diagrams,’ you added.
‘So that’s where the magic happens?’ he asked, gesturing to the illustrated image of the brain in the centre of the page you had been working from.
‘This is where thought happens,’ you nodded. ‘Kind of like…where decisions are made.’
‘Must be a woman’s brain,’ Joel deadpanned, taking a swig of his beer. ‘Can guarantee men make their decisions someplace else.’
You caught a glimpse of something dark in his eyes as he glanced over you. You blushed, swearing it was just the heat, and furious with yourself. This wasn’t like you; you weren’t some shrinking violet type. You’d had boyfriends, you’d had fun in college. You had no idea what it was about Mr Miller that made you immediately go all giggly, all girly, but whatever it was you wished it would fuck off.
The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You were used to this from him, the way his mind seemed to drift, the way he seemed content enough to let it. Gently, so as not to jolt him out of his thoughts, you closed your book, gathered your pens together. Everything tucked away in your bag you were surprised when you looked up to see he was watching you.
‘Apparently Sarah’s taken an interest in science,’ he said after a moment, his warm eyes watching yours for a second. You felt a tingle of pride in your chest.
‘Oh yeah?’ you asked.
‘Mmhmm, apparently after she pushed Simon Strzelecki off the monkey bars, she offered to patch him up again.’
You grinned before you were able to catch yourself.
‘That’s…very, umm…’ you trailed off and he huffed out a little laugh.
‘It’s very Sarah,’ he agreed.
‘M’sorry, Mr Miller…’ you started, but Joel stood up, waving you off.
‘Don’t be, Strzelecki’s a little shit’f the highest order,’ he said. ‘You gonna let me give ya a lift this time?’ he asked, and this time you shook your head at him.
‘No, I can walk it.’
‘Y’know I don’t like ya walkin’ around out there on yer’own,’ he grumbled, and you felt the insane urge to reach your hand out to rest on his bicep, to ease his evident discomfort.
‘I can handle it,’ you said, instead.
Something stole over his face for a moment, a sharpness in his eyes. For a moment you gazed up at him, the furrow in his brow deepening, the muscles in his jaw twitching as his eyes roamed over your face. Standing this close to him you were reminded how tall, how broad he really was. You dropped your eyes to his arms, crossed over his chest, and imagined him holding you with them, circling them around your back as you leant, safe, into his skin. You blinked yourself back to reality, worried for a second he could read your thoughts.
‘Know you can handle it,’ he said, his voice low, ‘just don’t like it, is all.’
You did this every time, this stand-off. You worried one night you would waver.
‘G’night, Mr Miller,’ you said, over dry lips. He nodded, once, at you, still evidently displeased something dark, something haunted, passing over his features before he brought them back into line.
He stood on the front porch, light still on, until you rounded his driveway and disappeared past the oak tree by the front lawn.
--
Mick was a guy from your Tuesday morning bio class, and you only realised he was your boyfriend when he introduced you to a few of his friends that way. You’d just gone with it, because it had seemed easier, and he was nice if a little full of himself at times. He was the son of the one the big ranching families, had been almost guaranteed a position at whatever college he chose on the day of his birth, hadn’t ever really considered that money was something you saved, something you worked for.
But he would never let you pay for dinner, and often he showed up to class holding a coffee just for you. You’d been on your own for a long time, had been self-sufficient well before you had any business to, and it was kind of nice to let yourself be cared for, if that’s what this was.
On nights when you had to work he would pout and complain, and you told yourself it was because he cared about you, because he wanted you around, even if some part of you knew he just didn’t like to be alone. Every once and while he would ask if he could come with you, ‘feel you up on the couch like it’s eighth grade’, and it made you feel exactly fourteen years old, like this was a summer job you had failed to grow out of. It didn’t help that he more than once referred to your sitting job as ‘cute’. His mother had stayed at home the moment she fell pregnant with Mick’s older brother, and as far as you could tell was yet to leave. You never asked about a future with Mick, terrified of what kind of picture he would paint.
On one such evening, after he’d been particularly insistent that you blow off your job and come and hang out with him and his friends, he’d starting blowing up your phone just as Mr Miller sat down beside you, weary-boned and sleepy-eyed, at his kitchen table.
You ignored the calls, tried to carry on reading even as Mr Miller arched his brow at your insistently vibrating device. You huffed, knowing at some point Mick would get bored.
‘You’re popular tonight?’ Joel prompted after a while, making you lose your place in the paragraph you’d read over at least ten times already.
You huffed out a sigh, reaching out and scrolling through the stream of notifications. He’d started texting, sometimes just sending a single emoji, sometimes entire paragraphs about how badly you were letting him down. You felt an ache bloom behind your right eye socket, and you reached up to your temple to try and massage it away.
‘It’s my boyfriend,’ you told him, and with your eyes still closed you didn’t see him scowl. ‘He wants me to come out to some bar with him and his drunk friends.’
Joel considered this for a long moment. When you opened your eyes they blurred under the sudden light, and you blinked away sleep to see him clearly again.
‘You should be out with your friends, it’s a Friday night…’ he said, almost looking guilty for a moment, and you rushed to reassure him.
‘No, no trust me…this is better. They’re boring when they’re drunk. And also when they’re sober.’
Joel smiled, straining just slightly, at this.
‘He a good man?’ he asked, and you scoffed a little.
‘He’s barely a man at all,’ you said, automatically. Later you’d reflect on this moment, feel it turn you inside out and scold your skin with the heat of your own shame. For now, though, you were too tired, and it was too hot in the kitchen, for you to catch it.
Joel caught it, though. He cleared his throat.
‘We met at college, and he’s…well, he’s kind of set up for life. He doesn’t have to worry about grades, or proving himself. He’s almost guaranteed his residency.’ You were aware you were starting to sound bitter, and maybe you were just a little. Something about Mr Miller, sitting at his kitchen table late in the evening with a beer, muscles wrapped in a plaid, his soft brown eyes watching you carefully, made you think he’d understand.
‘He doesn’t make you feel good enough for him?’ he asked, after a while.
You considered this, eventually shrugging your shoulders. ‘I don’t know if he makes me feel anything,’ you said, truthfully.
Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hand as he watched you, gazed at your face.
‘What do you want him to make you feel?’ he asked.
‘Seen,’ you said, without hesitation.
‘Just seen?’ he asked. His voice was deathly quiet now, almost entirely gravel. His eyes were burning, sharp. You watched as they darkened, stealing your breath out from under you.
‘Desired,’ you almost whispered. He dropped a hand to the table, his fingertips only inches from yours, resting casual on your textbook.
‘What man’s out there runnin’ round this town not desirin’ you?’ he asked, almost as though he couldn’t believe it, and you felt scorching heat on your cheeks, rushing down your sternum, pooling heavy in your core.
You blinked, terrified to move in case you broke whatever spell had befallen him. He turned thoughtful, his eyes dropping to the woodgrain of the table.
‘Y’been working a lot here…can’t imagine hanging out with me and a ten-year-old girl is the same as bein’ out there, living your youth…’
You felt something heavy shift in your belly, something essential curdle and erode.
‘I like it here, Mr Miller,’ you said, all big eyes and almost quivering lower lip. Joel moved away, sitting up straight and peeling the label off his beer.
‘Pretty thing like you, shouldn’t be spendin’ all night waitin’ on us,’ he said, almost to himself. You shook your head again, but he was closing off on you, you could see it in the way his shoulders were folding, the way his mouth was tugging down at the corners.
Without even considering it, operating almost entirely on instinct, you reached your hand out to rest on his bicep. You watched as his eyes drifted close, a long exhale through his nose. He grimaced, almost like you were hurting him, until he lifted his hand and held yours fast to him, wrapping his paw around you.
‘I really love spending time with Sarah,’ you said, just over a whisper, as he stared hard at the table. You could sense he was avoiding your gaze, and you wanted to say something to draw him to you, wanted to give him a little nugget of truth that he could take into himself, hold deep and quiet in his depths. ‘I love spending time with you,’ you said.
He raised his eyes to yours. His hand was so warm over yours, your cheeks so pink in the sleepless heat of the late evening. You saw his eyes fall to your lips and you slipped your hand from under his, reaching up to trace the contours of his jaw with your fingertips.
‘Baby…’ he whispered, ‘I been’ resistin’ you so long, don’t know if I can…’ and you pushed a finger to his lips. You didn’t want him to break whatever spell you were both suddenly under. Didn’t want him to take this from you both, whatever it was turning out to be.
‘Don’t argue,’ you instructed, quietly. With brows saddled, he nodded his head.
And he didn’t argue. Not when you moved your finger from his lips and traced it down over the hollow of his neck, over to his pulse where it thundered under your tough.
Didn’t argue when you leant forward, pressing your nose to his, giving him time to pull away, to move from your lips.
Didn’t argue when you pressed them to his, a little soft and quiet thing, earning you a wanting gasp from him, a prize you would hold in the cavity of your chest so long as your heart stayed beating.
Later, when you had gathered yourselves, when he had gazed at you and you had felt the want in him mixing with the regret, with the necessity of the un-having corrupting the want to take and take and take, you had simply gathered your books, tucking them quiet and neat into the bag at your feet. He didn’t argue with you about driving you home that night, suddenly quiet in a way that set your teeth on edge, and you felt an ache in your belly you couldn’t account for when he closed the door. You waited behind the trunk of the tree at the end of his driveway, counting the minutes he left the light on for you after you’d slipped from view, giving up when you got past 15.
--
You were unsettled. Joel hadn’t called for two weeks, and you were starting to worry that you’d ruined things, your silly little kiss bubbling corrosive at the base of your spine. You couldn’t help going over the whole evening again and again in your head.
You should have told him you preferred spending the nights at his house, that the way it smelt like play-dough and sometimes sawdust, sometimes pine, was so unique to the both of them that you felt your nerves settle the moment you stepped over the threshold. That the house was warm and quiet, that you could spread out your books and something essential to you, that in this space with them you felt more yourself than anywhere else on the planet, even locked away in your little studio apartment, even just you and your reflection in the bathroom mirror.
You wanted to tell him Sarah was funny, and smart, and kind, and being around her made you nostalgic for the childhood you never had but ached for, that you felt all that time with her she was giving you something precious and absent, something simple and something sweet. That there were nights you weren’t sure who was sitting who.
You wanted to tell him you didn’t expect anything from him, that it didn’t matter to you if nothing ever happened, if he regretted letting you kiss him, if it had just been that it was too awkward in the moment to say no. Just that you wanted to keep sitting for him, just that if all you got was a casual conversation at the end of the evening and an argument about driving home that would be enough for you, because it would have to be, and so you could make it so.
You begged off seeing Mick for the second Friday night in a row, wanting to be available in case Joel called. You felt silly but you could use the cash. Your textbooks were $400 a piece, and next semester you were taking three classes. Just feeding yourself was enough to stop your studies in their tracks.
Two things happened in the span of ten minutes. A knock at your door stirred you from your lecture notes, and your phone rang. By the time you had it in your hand you were holding Mick back from your face, your palm to his chest, as you craned your neck away from him to speak.
‘M’sorry, Sweetheart, it’s just…I know, it’s a Friday…’
‘It’s fine, Mr Miller,’ you said, ignoring the way Mick was making smoochy faces over your shoulder. ‘I don’t have any plans.’
When you got off the phone Mick was pouting again, and you sighed.
‘I thought I was your plans?’ he said, and you shrugged at him.
‘It’s good money for easy work, babe,’ you said, the nickname sitting heavy on your tongue.
‘I can give you money,’ he said, pulling you towards him by your belt loops and nipping at your jaw. You cringed away from him.
‘That would make me your whore, right?’ you said, and he grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows.
‘Never seemed to bother you before…’ he said, and you bristled against him.
‘The fuck does that mean?’
“Oh, fuck me, babe, make me yours…” he imitated, his voice high in a general approximation of yours. You blushed, furiously. ‘You think good girls beg like little whores?’ he asked, and you knew he was kidding around, knew that he wasn’t smart enough to do it without outright insulting you, knew that you’d put up with this shit before so there was no reason why he wouldn’t assume he couldn’t get away with it now. You knew the way he spoke to you was basically your fault, and you couldn’t yell at him now that the precedent had been set. You felt yourself crumple, landing with a thump on the edge of your bed.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ he was saying, grinning at you like he’d won his prize. ‘You put the kid to bed, and I’ll come by and keep you happy ‘til Dad gets home.’
You hated the idea, the thought of Mick in that space you’d almost come to think of sacred making your stomach churn.
‘No,’ you said, and you watched as he arched his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You can’t come in…’
‘Say no more,’ he said, grinning again, and for whatever reason, you didn’t.
--
He arrived, just after 9 PM, already drunk. You winced as he parked his car in the driveway, right in Mr Miller’s spot, worried for a moment he was going to swipe the mailbox when he took the angle too fast. He skidded to a stop mere inches from Mr Miller’s garage door and you exhaled, realising you were bracing for the sound of splintering wood. He ambled over to where you stood on the front porch, tugging at your shirt sleeves in the cool night air.
‘Babe!’ he called, and you shushed him almost instantly. He was carrying a sixpack of beers, three of them already gone. His breath reeked and you wrinkled up your nose when he slung his arm over the back of your neck and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.
‘This feels like high school,’ he said, and giggled.
‘This is my job, y’know,’ you corrected him, but he wasn’t hearing you, backing you up against the side of the house. You thumped into the brick, wind temporarily knocked from your lungs before he was on you, slipping his entire tongue into your ear in a way that made your skin crawl.
‘Easy…’ you said, and he ignored you, his hand not holding the beers rising up to paw at your breast over your shirt.
‘Mmm…such a tasty little slut,’ he said, and you closed your eyes. ‘Little naughty baby-sitter.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ you stage-whispered, not sure how well your voices wouldn’t carry over the breeze in Mr Miller’s cul-de-sac. He leant down, resting the beers on the front porch so that he could grope you with both hands.
He groaned as he rubbed his cock at your clothed centre. You moved your face to the side, letting your eyes slide closed again.
You tried to think of a romantic movie. Tried to remember some of the fragments of the romance novels your mother had kept stowed under the bed and that you snuck into the den to read to your giggling friends. Tried to imagine a different man, a stranger’s hands on your chest, a stranger’s fingers pinching at your nipples. Tried to imagine what it would feel like if they found the sweet spot, if they sent electric shocks into your belly, into your cunt. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the sound of Mick’s heavy breathing out of your mind, focusing instead on rough and calloused fingers, the scruff of a beard teasing along your skin. Heavy accent and sweet pine, a groaned little ‘Sweetheart…’ as he slipped your shirt up over your shoulders.
‘The fuck’s going on here?’ you heard a gruff voice as your eyes sprang open, pushing Mick from you hard enough that he stumbled, backwards, landing on the grass.
‘Mr Miller!’ you exclaimed, shame burning bright on your cheeks as you righted your clothes. ‘M’so sorry, he just dropped by…’ you started but Joel was striding up his driveway, as you realised with a new flash of guilt he’d had to park on the street.
‘Hey, man…’ Mick was saying, his hands up in front of his face. ‘Just checkin’ in on my girl…’
You cringed, this particular pet name always feeling more like ownership when it came from him.
Joel looked up at you, his brows saddled. ‘You OK, Sweetheart?’ he asked you, and you realised for the first time he wasn’t angry but concerned, his fists balled up like he was ready to spring to your defence.
‘It’s Mick,’ you explained, glancing down at him as he tried to climb to his feet, getting as far as his knees and settling there for a second to plan his next move. ‘He…he wanted to…’
‘Yeah, I saw what he wanted to,’ Joel huffed out, reaching down to pull Mick upright by the back of his shirt. ‘Saw the way you were bracing away from it too,’ he said, looking directly into Mick’s grinning face.
‘What else you see, old man?’ he asked, and Joel dropped him back onto his knees.
‘You got your keys?’ he asked him, and waiting for the younger man to root around in his pockets.
‘Don’t steal my ride,’ he said, handing them over and not noticing when Joel slipped them into his pocket.
‘M’going inside, and I’m gonna call you a taxi, and you’re getting in. She can drive your car back to you tomorrow mornin’…if she doesn’t decide to drive it off a cliff,’ he said, abandoning Mick on the front lawn and coming towards you, grabbing your wrist gentle but firm in his hand and pulling you inside. ‘C’mon, darlin’,’ he said, and you followed, almost entirely on autopilot.
‘I’m so sorry, Mr Miller,’ you started but he waved you away, placing a call for the taxi while keeping you fixed in your spot with his glare. When he was done, he rolled his shoulders, sighing.
‘You sit,’ he said, striding into the kitchen and emerging moments later with two glasses of sweet tea. You realised, as you lifted your hands to take your glass from him, that you were shivering.
‘I didn’t know he was going to do that,’ you said, and Joel shook his head. You felt the waves of disappointment rolling off him and you worried for a moment you might cry.
‘He always touch ya like that?’ he asked, palming at the back of his neck.
‘Like what?’ you asked, your cheeks burning again.
‘All…clumsy and…disrespectful,’ he said, quiet. He stared at the floor between you while you perched on the edge of the couch.
‘Well…’ you started, but you weren’t sure how you wanted to finish that sentence. Sometimes he doesn’t even bother to touch me at all, you thought.
Joel scoffed, his jaw squeezed tight. ‘Guys like that are all the same, Sweetheart, just…selfish. Even in the bedroom. No lady should be touched like she’s a piece of meat.’
You considered, for one crazy moment, if Joel wasn’t so much disappointed in you as he was in Mick’s prowess. Suddenly you had to stifle a giggle.
‘What’s so funny?’ Joel asked you, surprised.  
‘Just…I mean, they all go to such fancy schools, get all that college for basically free…’ you started, trailing off when you saw him starting to smile. ‘He can’t even boil an egg, and I don’t mean mine,’ you said, and he laughed then, free and loud, and the sound of it made a little fizzle of joy spark up your spine.
This was fun, you realised, shitting on your terrible boyfriend with the most handsome single Dad you’d ever laid your eyes on. This was really, really fun.
‘So, I take it he don’t make you breakfast in the mornin’,’ Joel joked, and you snorted. ‘What you eat for breakfast, anyway?’ he asked, turning to you now, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You swallowed. ‘No, wait,’ he said, ‘let me guess.’ He pretended to look you up and down, his brow arching as he considered. ‘You’re not a waffles kinda girl,’ he said, thoughtfully. You grinned and shook your head. You’d never liked the sponginess. ‘But you’re too fun for plain old oatmeal,’ he said, and you felt a blush crawling across your chest. ‘You’re a pancake princess,’ he decided, finally. ‘Am I right?’
You pretended to consider it for a second before nodding happily at him. ‘Maple syrup and berries,’ you agreed.
‘Maple syrup and berries,’ he said, grinning in his victory. He paused, something passing between you. Suddenly he shifted forward, his knees just barely brushing yours. You found yourself mirroring him, leaning in enough that you had to put your hand out to steady you, landing it on the cushion only inches from his thigh. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek when he whispered in your ear, ‘tart…but a little bit of sweet for m’sweetheart.’
You felt heat scorch its way up your chest, reduced to kindling beside him.
‘Bet he don’t kiss ya like ya should be,’ he said, and you thought for a second of Mick, grinning and drunk out of his mind on the front lawn. You wondered if the taxi had come for him yet, and had absolutely no interest in going out to check on him.
‘Mr Miller…’ you whispered, and he groaned, then, his eyes rolling back in his head.
‘Please, baby, when you call me that…’ he trailed off, eyes blown wide and you felt, then, the thundering in your chest. From this distance you could see his racing pulse in his neck, the same pace as yours.
‘Mr Miller…’ you said, again, staring now at his lips. You wanted to reach out and just take a little nibble.
And he was on you, grasping the back of your head and bringing it down to him, crashing his lips into yours as you gasped, swallowing the echo down into his throat. His tongue, scorching hot, exploring your mouth as he teased it open, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheeks.
‘Thought about you…’ you said, without even thinking, and Joel pulled back a second to appraise you; your swollen lips, your doe-eyes gazing up at him.
‘Say that again,’ he mumbled.
‘When he’d take me, I’d think about you,’ you said, and you watched as his eyes fell shut, taking the moment to glance down at his heaving chest, the aching bulge between his legs. ‘Thought about your hands on me, Mr Miller, about your mouth.’
‘Fuck, Sweetheart…’ he said, almost as if it pained him, before his eyes snapped back open to gaze at you.
‘Kiss me?’ you asked, sweet as you could for him while you tried with both hands to hang on to the moment, to stay here in it with him. You would need to remember this, every corner of the room, every detail. Would spend nights reconstructing his face in your mind, the way he was looking at you now, wanting and red-cheeked, dark eyes and a hot little huff as your words landed their blows on him.
‘Canna touch you, baby?’ he asked, and you were nodding, pulling him towards you as he slid his hands over your waist. Threading your hands through his hair he brought you over him, straddling him on the couch as he stared up at you, brows arching high, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening. You smiled at him, feeling like his prize, as you brought your hips down on him and watched his eyes ease shut, heard his breath stutter. He was big, you could feel it even as the seam of his jeans rubbed at your core. You could feel yourself aching for him, hot and pounding where you ground yourself down.
‘Fuck, Mr Miller…’ you gasped as you felt him push his cock up into you, his hands on your hips and pulling you down.
‘So beautiful, baby,’ he whispered, reaching up with one hand to cup your breast, squeezing the nipple between his fingers that, even through your shirt, shot lightning bolts to your cunt. You gasped, a high-pitched little sound you were sure you’d never made before, and he soaked it down into his skin, kept it held tight and precious in the core of him, to keep him warm on cold evenings.
You felt yourself shivering, even as his warm fingertips dropped to lift the hem of your tee and trace their way back up to your tits along the skin. His enormous hands almost completely captured it, and you felt small, then, and shy, but when you looked down into his warm, brown eyes you saw only safety there, only naked desire for your pleasure.
You let your hips roll, that building ache in your core. You’d only ever felt this alone, had never had another person bring it out of you, and you felt the sharp edges of it as you felt a shard of panic slice through your gut. No one had ever done this for you, before. You weren’t sure if your body would allow it, weren’t sure if you could let go enough to fall.
‘Hey…’ Joel said beneath you, his eyes roaming your face. ‘Relax, Sweetheart,’ he whispered, reaching his hand from your hip to your jaw, pulling you down to rest your forehead on his. ‘Just you n’me, baby,’ he whispered as you rocked on top of him. ‘You can take what you need,’ he promised. ‘I got you.’
‘Joel!’ you gasped, the shiver in your body now ratcheting up your spine, your thighs burning as you rolled your hips on his lap, his cock still tucked away in his jeans. ‘I don’t know if I…’
‘Sssh…’ he cooed, raising a thumb to your lips and slipping it between your teeth. You sucked instinctually, swirling your tongue over the tip and letting your eyes drift closed. ‘Just feel it, baby,’ he said, ‘don’t force it. Let it grow.’
Never in your life had you felt like this. You took his thumb between your teeth as you ground, the spark of fear in your belly engulfed by the roar of your desire. You could feel your hips stuttering, could hear yourself starting to pant.
‘Good girl…’ Joel encouraged, slipping his thumb from your mouth now and smearing it across your lips. ‘Right here for ya, baby,’ he said. ‘Wantchya to feel so good.’
You cried out, smacking your hand over your mouth to stifle your cries. He was going to kill you, and you would let him again and again, let him bring you back to life just to kill you this way all over again. You had no idea bodies were made to feel this good.
‘Oh!’ you gasped, all the warning you could muster as he grabbed your hips with both hands, slamming his bulge up into you as he pulled you down, the seam of his jeans rubbing hard into your clit. ‘Yes!’ you whispered, your body shuddering as you felt yourself crest, the pleasure roaring from your cunt to your chest, exploding out of your skin as you rolled, roiled, boiled on top of Mr Miller.
‘Jesus, there she is…’ he whispered, and you opened your eyes to gaze down at him, your breath still coming in gasps as he watched you, awe and desire on his face. ‘There she is,’ he said again, like a prayer, a benediction.
--
You woke slowly, the dappled light streaming in through the oak tree beside Joel’s window. It took you a moment to orient yourself, to remember that you were in his bed because he’d considered it too late for you to take yourself home, even if you had Mick’s car. Because the pleasure he’d wrung out of you on his couch had left you boneless, because the idea of ripping yourself from his smell, from his heat, was unthinkable in that moment.
You stretched, noting that the other side of the bed remained made, that he had spent the night on the couch. You remembered that you had wanted to ask him to stay, that the words had formed on your lips, and that in that moment you saw the regret on his face, the longing to tuck himself in beside you and pull you into his chest, let the weight of the night take him and you with him, but that he wouldn’t allow it, that he was holding back. You weren’t sure why, but you assumed out of decency, out of respect. Out of some vague employee-boss professionalism you would both cling to in an attempt to paper over the grasping maw of desire opening up between you.
You had wanted him, and you had denied him, allowed him to deny you. You rolled to your back in a frustrated huff, surrounded by the scent of him, of his cologne and the scent of his skin imbued in the sheets beneath you.
After a while you heard noises in the kitchen and you left your cocoon, pulling your clothes on and padding down the stairs constructing a cover story for Sarah as to why you were still there. When you rounded the corner, though, you saw only Joel –in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, standing at the stove.
‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said casually, as if you hadn’t come on his lap less than twelve hours before, ‘Sarah’s headed off to soccer practice, so you and me’ll have to take care of all these.’
He gestured over his shoulder to the kitchen table, where a stack of cooling pancakes stood proud. You felt a shiver of shock run though you at the sight of them, turning to Joel with the curl of tears tickling the back of your eyes. ‘No berries, sorry darlin’,’ he said, without looking up. ‘But we got enough syrup to make it up to ya, I hope.’
You weren’t sure anyone had ever done anything like this for you. You wanted to sob, wanted to walk over to the table and pick up the pancakes in your fists and mash them into your skin, wanted to drown them in syrup and eat until your belly distended, wanted to force feed them into Joel. Instead, you stepped forward, your arms opening all of their own accord, wrapping yourself around his back like a Koala. He huffed out a surprised laugh, growing serious when he turned you in his arms to face him, seeing the gathering tears at your waterline.
‘Hey, what’s this?’ he asked, and you grinned, watery, up at him.
‘No-one has ever…’ you started, catching your words before they spilled too much of the truth. Understanding passed over Joel’s face.
‘Oh, my sweet girl…’ he said, and you glowed for a minute, the words reaching down into your chest and igniting something long extinguished.
He leaned down towards you, pressed his nose to yours, his forehead resting gently on yours. You inhaled him, his scent and the sweet smell of the pancakes on the stove, tried to imprint the memory deep in your DNA.
‘What the fuck is this?’ an angry voice sounded from behind you, and you snapped away from Joel, taking several steps back. Mick, still in his same clothes from the night before, stood furious in Joel’s kitchen.
‘The fuck, you let yourself in?’ Joel asked, matching Mick’s anger with his own. ‘This is a private residence, man.’
‘That’s my girlfriend, man,’ Mick spat, his face twisting into an ugly mask you weren’t sure you’d ever noticed on him before. ‘The fuck you doing feeling her up? You stealin’ my car and my girl?’
‘Mick…’ you started but he was ignoring you, advancing on Joel. You stepped towards him, hands up to placate, but Joel was suddenly beside you, tucking you behind him and shielding you with his broad chest.
‘Back up, buddy,’ Joel said, a whispered warning.
‘Me, back up?’ Mick seethed, about to go on before Joel interrupted him.
‘Yeah, you back up. You need to sit your arse down and learn yourself somethin’,’ he said, advancing on Mick so that the younger man took several steps backwards, heading towards the kitchen table. You wondered if anyone had ever actually stood up to him, if usually his wealth was enough to make people cower. He backed into a kitchen chair, slamming down into it with a thud as he stared up at Joel, the older man red faced and pointing a finger at his chest. ‘You think that little display last night was any way to treat a woman?’ he grit out. You watched as Mick shook his head no. ‘You think she enjoyed that, being pawed at in the dark like a fuckin’ street walker?’ he asked.
‘She looked pretty whorish a few seconds ago,’ Mick responded, petulant and stupid. You could see by the way Joel braced his shoulders, his back expanding in resplendent fury, that Mick had made the wrong fucking choice.
‘Ya little shit,’ Joel said, stepping back from Mick and towards you. He held his arm to you, beckoning you into his chest and you went to him, tucking yourself against his side.
‘You have a woman like this, you fuckin’ cherish her,’ Joel muttered, tracing his fingertips along your side and making you shiver. ‘Look at these pretty little tits,’ he said, moving to cup them as you blushed, tucking your face into his neck. You heard Mick’s sharp intake of breath, mirroring your own as Joel rolled your nipples through your shirt. ‘The way you were grabbin’ at ‘em last night, you think that felt good? You make her groan like this?’ he asked, applying just the right amount of pressure on the sensitive nubs, eliciting a moan from you, unbidden.
‘Listen, man, this is…’ Mick started but Joel cut him off with just a look, stern and disapproving, before his face shifted back to adoration when he turned to you.
‘Let’s show him, baby?’ he asked, his brows saddled high. You knew you were safe with him, that at any moment you could call it off, but you wanted this. You wanted Mick to see what Joel could do to you, the sounds you could make. Wanted him to feel small and insignificant in the presence of a real man, of real pleasure. Wanting him to see what money couldn’t buy.
You nodded your head at Joel and watched as the grin bloomed over his face. ‘M’good girl,’ he said, quiet enough that only you could hear it, and you felt the bolt of want shoot down into your core. Your cunt already aching, already dripping for him.
‘Show me where,’ he said, stepping back as you surveyed the space. You nodded towards the kitchen island, the bench just above your hip height. Joel nodded, lifting you up easily to perch on the edge, your body facing Mick as he sat, frozen, at the table in front of you.
‘Slip these off, baby,’ Joel said, tugging at your sweatpants and you lifted your hips as he slipped them, your panties along with them, out from underneath you. The granite countertop cold on the top of your thighs you revelled in the sensation of it, the hard, cold surface so different to Joel’s hot body as he hovered at your side.
‘Show him,’ he said, tapping you on the knee. You spread your legs, hooking one thigh over the edge of the counter and the other widening out to your side, your cunt unfolding before the two men in front of you. You watched as Mick’s face turned pink, sweat appearing on his brow. You turned to look at Joel, the hunger in his eyes as he devoured every inch of your skin. He reached over, running his fingertips over the inside of your thigh, moving closer to you, leaning over your body to whisper into your ear.
‘You’re dripping onto my countertop, baby,’ he said, and you could hear the glee in it, the wanting.
‘For you, Joel,’ you clarified. ‘Not him.’
‘Nah, never for him, I reckon,’ Joel agreed, his fingers slipping further towards your slit. You felt totally exposed and wanton, whorish, as Mick had put it, and your cunt was pulsing, aching from the desire of it. You felt like a priceless piece of art admired in a big city museum, like a stripper opening up her legs for hoards of braying men, like a girlfriend letting her disappointing boyfriend know in no uncertain terms he would no longer neglect her. You felt power coursing through your veins and into your cunt, your slick pooling on the top of your thighs as the most beautiful man you had ever seen stood beside you and teased the pleasure from every nerve.
‘Fuck…’ you whimpered as Joel’s fingers landed light and dexterous on your clit, the little bundle of nerves sending the pleasure roaring through your core and into your chest. You bucked your hips, nearly slipping from the countertop, Joel coming forward again to brace you against his chest.
‘God, look how much she wants it,’ Joel said over your head to Mick. ‘Bet you’ve never made her jump like that.’ You opened your eyes, not even having realised they’d closed, to watch Mick swallow hard and heavy. You beamed back at Joel, letting the pride in his face radiate warmth down upon you.
‘So good f’me, so good t’me,’ he said, spreading your lips apart with his fingers and pushing a fingertip inside. You gasped, shock on your face at the intensity of the need for him burning where he touched.
‘Please…’ you whimpered, just wanting more and just wanting him to never stop, just wanting him to reach inside you, to wring the pleasure out of you, to make you come so hard you forgot your own name.
‘Sshh…’ he cooed to you, ‘your boyfriend needs to concentrate so he can learn.’
You emitted a squeal of frustration, bucking your hips on his hand to try and draw him in, earning you only a chuckle from Joel.
‘Ok baby, m’sorry. Just like teasin’ ya,’ he grinned at you, before sliding two fat, rough fingers hard into your cunt.
For a second you lost touch with reality, your head flying back to the ceiling as sensations strong enough to take your breath roared from your cunt. The stretch was delicious, the heel of Joel’s hand rubbing hard at your clit as his fingers reached deep inside you, opening you up for him, your slick gathering in his palm.
‘Look how wet she gets,’ Joel noted, over his shoulder to Mick. ‘Such a shiny little cunt when she’s drippin’ like this. You ever work her up like this?’
You heard Mick grunt, a pleading note of displeasure, and you sighed as Joel started pumping, stoking the fire in your cunt that threatened to eviscerate you and everyone within the vicinity.
‘Joel!’ you gasped, rolling your hips again, trying to shove him deeper into your greedy little cunt as it grasped at him.  
‘Could lick ‘er up, whatchyu reckon?’ Joel asked, already getting down on his knees as you groaned, certain now he was going to send you into the stratosphere. ‘Can I, baby?’ he asked, and you nodded, frantic, unable to form words.
‘Bet she tastes sweet,’ Joel said to Mick, who was inching closer in his chair, peering over Joel’s shoulder as your cunt swallowed his thick fingers. ‘Like watermelon on a hot summer day. You ever taste her, Mick?’ he asked. You watched as the shame bloomed over Mick’s face. Joel scoffed. ‘Course not, ya fuckin piss weak little prick,’ he spat before turning, diving in to lick a fat stripe at your folds, settling in to lap at your clit as his fingers worked you.
You screamed, sucking in huge lung-fulls of breath just to let them keen out of you, your hips slamming shut on Joel’s head as he sucked at you, every nerve ending screaming now as you felt the blooming heat of release.
‘Oh, he’s gonna make me…’ you said to Mick over Joel’s shoulder, watching you with owlish eyes.
‘Don’t talk to him,’ Joel admonished you, pulling your focus down to him as he perched between your legs, ‘you talk to me,’ he said.
‘Sorry, Mr Miller,’ you said, watching as his eyes rolled shut, a shiver passing over his shoulders.
‘Be the death of me…’ he muttered, returning his attentions to your pulsing cunt. You gripped his hair, rolling your hips on his face and rocking into him, chasing the release now gathering at the base of your spine.
‘Jesus…oh, fuck…’ you cried, trying desperately to warn him, your eyes slamming shut only to open in shock as he found new ways to wring the pleasure from you.
Joel worked you up, his tongue never fatiguing, setting up the perfect rhythm to hold you just on the edge. You could feel your sweat pooling on your skin, the heat in your cunt spreading down your legs, the pull of the knot in your belly.
To your utter dismay Joel stopped, lifting his face to address Mick at his shoulder. ‘You ever make her squirm like this?’ he asked, and you cried for him, then, scrabbling to grip his shoulders, his chin, to push him back to your desperate cunt. He laughed, nipping at your fingertips as they passed by. ‘Look at her graspin’ for me. You seein’ this? This is what real pleasure looks like.’
You cracked open an eye, the room spinning around you as you fought to regain control of your limbs. You saw the look of shame embedded deep into Mick’s face now, the sight of it somehow intensifying your pleasure, the building pressure in your cunt.
‘Fuck me,’ you gasped, turning your attention back to Joel, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘Show him how to fuck,’ you groaned, pushing off the countertop and spinning up onto your toes, laying chest down on the granite now hot to the touch from your writhing body on top of it. You spread your legs a little, knowing that your puffy little cunt lips would be revealed to them both, and you heard them both groan, Joel’s chesty moan full of grit, Mick’s high pitched and brimming with regret.
‘Don’t do this, man…’ he pleaded, and you heard Joel’s little scoff.
‘That’s the thing, buddy, the lady always gets what she wants.’
You felt him come to stand behind you, heard the rustle of his sweats as he pulled his cock over the waistband. It took everything in you not to turn and admire it, knowing in that moment you would have plenty of opportunity.
‘Fuck, she’s got me weepin’,’ Joel said, and you heard the unmistakable sound of skin on skin as he wrapped his hand around himself and tugged. ‘Got me harder than a railroad spike, this little cunt…’ he muttered. You whined, swivelling your hips to try and entice him, begging him to move faster as the walls of your cunt fluttered for him. You heard him sigh, a happy little sound. ‘Ok, baby, I’m here,’ he said, running a hand up your spine to hold you gentle and firm at the back of your neck, the head of his cock nudging at your cunt. ‘Gotta be gentle with my sweet little pussy,’ he said to you, leaning over you to place a chaste kiss in the cup of your shoulder blade.
‘Please, let him see it stretch me,’ you said, and you felt Joel shudder, notching himself at your entrance.
‘Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll chain him up in the basement, make him watch me fuck you every day,’ he muttered, pushing gently at first, the tip enough to make you gasp.
He was big, you realised. All of this time working you up he’d been leading to his moment, preparing to tease you open. ‘Oh, shit…’ you gasped as he pushed.
‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, pausing until you nodded, frantic, hands gripping at the edge of the counter for purchase as you pushed back into him, sliding in a few extra inches, as Joel moaned.
You were dimly aware that Mick was moving, coming to stand in front of you, a look of sorrow and unabashed heat on his face.
‘Please, can I?’ he asked, rubbing himself through his pants and you swatted him away.
‘No, fuck you,’ you said, emboldened by Joel’s desire for you, by his cock currently splitting your folds. ‘You never get this pussy again,’ you hissed at him, and you felt a bloom of pride at the look of hurt crossing his face just as Joel cheered from behind you.
‘That’s my beautiful girl!’ he gasped, bringing a finger to your clit and rubbing tight circles into it, making you gasp as you let your head fall, resting on the countertop. ‘So good f’me.’
The burn in your cunt from the way he stretched you abated, the pleasure Joel was giving you from your clit causing more slick to gather, your cunt grasping him again, your walls fluttering as you felt the ache turn to sweet pleasure, to a blooming rapture.
You lost touch with the ground, Joel’s harsh thrusts pushing you further up the counter, completely at his mercy as your legs hung useless beneath you, hands braced against the granite to give him purchase. In this moment, spread out on his cock, your cunt open and dripping for him, the pleasure ripping the words from your brain, gasps racking your throat, you felt completely under Joel’s spell, his touch, his heat. Mind-numb, thoroughly fucked out, gripped in this moment between the build up and the threshold of release.
‘Oh, you’re gonna make me…’ you warned but Joel had you, was there already with you.
‘I know, baby, I know,’ he grunted between thrusts. ‘Can feel it, can feel that sweet little cunt grippin’ me.’
You cried out, nodding your head furiously, entirely at his mercy now. ‘Yes, yes…Joel, it’s gonna…’
‘Let it go, baby,’ he moaned, and you felt none of the panic, none of the terror at your impending release, wrapped up safe in Joel’s body, in his groans of rapture, in the pull of the knot as it threatened to snap entirely.  
‘Watch me make her come,’ he spat out over your head, and you were only dimly aware of what he was saying as your release sped towards you.
You writhed, your breath stolen from you by the roar of the wildfire across your chest. The push of your orgasm slipping you under, crashing your body into the shore, rolling and quaking underneath it as indescribable lust coursed through your veins.
‘Oh, fuck, there she goes,’ Joel spluttered, his hips stuttering as he started to deepen his thrusts. ‘Gonna fill up ya girl,’ he grit out, his final movements sloppy and desperate as he approached the edge.
‘Do it, baby,’ you whimpered beneath him, words finally able to escape the cage of your throat. ‘Need you.’
He did, then, his come exploding into you and washing you clean, cleansing you of Mick, of all your disappointments, of all your fears. You looked back over your shoulder at him as he crested, his eyebrows saddled and his eyes trained on you, a look of reverence and hunger, of sweet shock, as though he couldn’t believe how good it felt either, as if everything for him was also slotting into place, as if he knew in this moment he would never let anyone separate you, would never let anyone take you from his side, that in his moment you were his just as much as he was yours, that this was a forging of something solid and essential, something vital and something precious, something that was just for you.
--
You didn’t remember Mick leaving. Didn’t care to say goodbye.
Joel had peeled you off the counter and carried you upstairs, drawn you a bath and lowered you gently into the water, sat beside you and washed your body as you lulled in and out of a light sleep.
Drying you off he wrapped you up in his clothes, swamping you in cotton and his scent, before promising to make you a fresh batch of pancakes. You hadn’t let him, whimpering when he tried to leave your side, pulling him down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you.
Later you would figure out lunch, and then Sarah, and then the rest of your lives. For now, you had each other, and cool sheets, and the light patter of rain as a welcome cool breeze blew new life over the garden beneath Joel’s window.
2K notes · View notes
martiniblues · 1 month ago
Text
JUNO , spencer reid
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing boyfriend!spencer x fem!reader
synopsis while babysitting henry for jj, spencer’s seeming disinterest with children starts to shift. this makes your mind wonder into unfamiliar territory you and spencer hadn’t spoken of yet: kids.
genre talks of pregnancy and children (duh), very suggestive towards the end but no smut, this is very self indulgent since i can’t get this song or spencer off my mind so here you go lol.
wc 2k?? (i got a little carried away)
Tumblr media
“sorry for this being so last minute!" jj scrambled, passing henry over to you along with his diaper bag. the blonde ran a hand through her short hair, adjusting from where the two-year-old played with it upon their arrival. 
“it’s all good, seriously. you know how much i love babysitting this cute thing.” you tickled henry’s side, making him squirm. 
jj’s eyes averted to the figure behind you, pursing her lips. “you sure he’s okay with this?” you turned your head, noticing spencer trying to look at the two of you without being noticed. 
it’s not that spencer didn’t like kids; it’s just hard to know how to talk to them when you were a child genius. 
you turned back to jj, attempting to ease her worry. “he’ll come around to it.” you shrugged, knowing that spencer would either sit and observe or fully engage. no in between.
after bidding your goodbyes, you walked over to spencer, taking a seat beside him on the couch. “so what should we do, little man?” you perched henry in your lap, resting your feet on the coffee table so he could sit against your perched thighs. 
spencer looked at you as if he were the “little man” in question. henry just babbled, throwing his arms around as you cooed. “what do we do with him?” spencer asked, leaning closer into your shoulder to inspect the baby in your lap. 
you laughed at his seriousness, turning to look at your boyfriend. “have you never been around a baby in your life or something?” you teased, lifting henry so he was closer to you both.
“did you know that babies are born with about seventy reflexes? that’s why when you place a baby on a surface to stand, they automatically start doing a stepping motion.” he spoke, watching henry kick his legs as you stood him on your lap. you looked over at him quizzically. “for someone who’s so awkward around babies, you sure do know a lot about them.” 
spencer flushed slightly, “i just haven’t had the chance to be around any until now.” he nudges your shoulder before crossing his arms. 
“well, here’s your chance.” you held henry out to spencer, which made him squirm and mumble yet again. “hold him while i go bring his bag in here.” 
he hesitated, looking between you and the baby as if this were a test. yet, despite the nervousness, he reached out, mimicking your position earlier. when you were content with how henry laid on spencer’s legs, you walked out of the room.
you’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposely take your time collecting his things, wanting spencer to have some alone time with henry. finally satisfied with your departure, you peaked your head into the room, nearly melting at the sight. 
the once stiff and nervous spencer you had left with henry was now replaced with a content, smiling one. his voice went up a few pitches as he responded to henry’s nonsense. “oh wow, really?” his lips were pulled into a smile as he played with him, letting henry’s small hand encase his slender fingers. 
you couldn’t help but let your head wander; how could you not? sure you thought about a future with spencer. a future where you were married and maybe with kids, but you had never brought it up being too nervous to scare spencer off.
but now watching him light up with henry in his lap, you wanted nothing more than for your daydreams to become reality. 
“someone wants you back in here, i think.” you snapped out of your daze, focusing on the two sets of eyes staring at you. both holding the same smiles and wide eyes. 
god, you swore you felt your ovaries jump.
“i see that you two are getting along now.” you placed henry’s diaper bag on the table, sitting yourself on the ground before laying out his blanket and a few toys. spencer joined you, placing henry on his stomach, then laid beside you, mirroring the baby’s position. 
“who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” you laughed, in awe of how much spencer had adjusted to the small being in just a matter of minutes.
he looked up at you as he shook a little plushie in front of henry’s face. “sorry to disappoint, but this is still your boyfriend,” spencer quipped before you pushed his head jokingly, messing up his hair in the process. 
the sound of high-pitched squeals took both of your attentions away from one another. there henry lay, clapping his hands in favor of you and spencer’s playful fighting. 
“yeah, you like when i show him who’s boss, huh?” you caressed the soft skin of henry’s cheek, making him giggle. spencer sighed, “come on, man, i thought we were really becoming friends” he exasperated, laying his head in his hands dramatically.
this only brought more squeals from the baby, making your cheeks almost grow sore from how hard you were smiling. 
“awe spence, it’s okay.” you egged on your act by petting his hair back into place. this caused your boyfriend to lift his head; a big pout on his lips made yours perk up. 
with your attention being taken away from henry by spencer’s rare expression, you hadn’t noticed the stuffed animal caught between the baby’s hands. before you could do anything, the small bear was chucked into spencer’s face, causing an uproar of noises from henry.
“i’m starting to question this whole babysitting thing.” spencer winced, looking at you as you laughed along with henry. 
Tumblr media
 
despite the teasing from earlier, spencer continued to be enamored with henry. him even insisting he help feed and change him when time came.
the whole ordeal feeling so domestic, apart of you wished jj could have spent a couple more days for her and will in favor of you seeing spencer like this for longer.
“thank you, again for taking care of him.” jj propped her hip against the counter as she fumbled for her phone out of her purse.
“of course, it really was no problem.” you turned at the sound of spencer’s soft voice, thanking henry for “helping” him clean.
“honestly, i think someone enjoyed this a bit more than we thought.” you gestured at spencer as he settled henry on his hip, the baby grasping onto his button-up shirt. 
your whole body ran hot at sight. spencer looked really good as a pretend dad. 
“no kidding, the team is going to flip when i show them the pictures you took of them.” she glanced at her phone, noting the off-guard photos you stole of spencer and henry. 
one was of him feeding him as he walked around the living room, another of him explaining some of the books organized on his shelves in a very formal fashion despite henry’s lack of knowledge, and finally one of them eye-to-eye playing on the floor with various toys. 
your heart swelled looking back at them, the questions you had been so careful not to ask begging to be verbalized. 
before you could sink any further, spencer came over, handing jj henry and his bag almost reluctantly. noticing the time, jj was quick to leave in order to keep the baby’s sleeping schedule on track but thanked you guys repeatedly before finally closing the door. 
clicking the lock shut, you mentally prepared yourself for the words about to come out of your mouth. 
“you had more fun than you bargained for, didn’t you?” you met spencer on the couch, him reaching out to pull your legs over his, making your heart leap. 
“i did, actually.” spencer began smoothing his hands up and down your calf before continuing. “honestly when you mentioned henry coming over, i was a little- i don’t know scared? i just didn’t want to disappoint him or you.” he bit his lip like he was stopping himself from letting the whole truth out. 
“oh spence, you were perfect. honestly, i’m very proud of you.” you reached out, caressing the side of his face, causing him to look at you. 
he noticed your wondering eyes, waiting for you to continue. “actually i um…” you shifted pulling your legs under yourself so you could sit up. 
breathing in deeply, you continued, “today kind of got me thinking about us and our future.” spencer was looking at you with such admiration that you had fixed your gaze on your hands.
“i know we haven’t really brought it up before, but seeing you and henry today had me-“ 
before you could finish, spencer’s lips were pressed against yours, resulting in a shocked gasp from you. he kissed you, mumbling words each time his lips parted to take yours in again. 
“i want that, i really do.” he breathed, finally separating from you for just a moment. 
“you want what, spence?” you were in shock, to be honest, knowing what he meant but wanting to hear him say it word for word. 
without another word, he positioned you in his lap, legs straddling his own. “i want a family with you. i want a sliver of what we had today to become ours one day.” his eyes didn’t break from yours, his pupils blown wide and sparkly.
for the thousandth time that day, you had to bite back a smile. “you mean that?” you questioned, one hand coming to comb through his hair and the other resting on his neck. 
he kissed your cheek, forehead, nose, and finally your lips before he spoke. “every single one. i mean, one of you is cute.” he cupped your cheek as he spoke. “but two though? that’s something.” he finished, smirking at you. 
you couldn’t contain your happiness, crashing his lips to yours again feverishly. even though you knew the both of you were in no place to have a kid now, there was no harm in playing with the fantasy for now. 
even if the real thing wouldn’t come to be for a good few years.
spencer pulled you flush against him, one his hands leaving your hips to trail up your spine and settle onto the back of your neck. a moan slipped past your lips as goosebumps erupted on your skin. 
you pulled on his shirt, hinting at where this was going as if it weren’t obvious to the man beneath you. he looked up at you, kissing you once more before dragging you to your shared bed. 
your blouse and shorts were off before your back hit the sheets, spencer still standing ahead of you unbuttoning his work shirt. 
you sat up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to take over. after each undone button, you kissed his skin, making him gasp as his fingers raked through your hair. 
pulling his shirt all the way off, you made your way to his pants, pulling him closer by his belt loop. you bit your lip, noticing the gears turning in his head.
“you know statistics say missionary or doggy are the best positions to get pregnant in.” spencer let out in shallow breaths as his belt clinked on the floor. 
“oh, yeah and why is that genius?” you leaned back on your elbows while spencer finished removing himself of his pants. he took you in, the tiny pink bow on your underwear made spencer rethink his crude response. 
“deeper penetration,” he said almost too smoothly, making you laugh. it was hard to take statistics seriously when you were both nearly naked. 
before he could settle above you, you shimmied up the bed. ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes, you positioned yourself on your hands. looking over your shoulder, you saw the way spencer’s eyes widened in shock.
“have you ever tried this one?”
Tumblr media
my first spencer fic omg. lowk crazy because i’ve been obsessed with this man since the ripe age of 12 but here we are. will probably be writing a lot more of him since im rewatching cm at the moment so stay tuned! request box is always open <333
1K notes · View notes
mercy-burning · 1 month ago
Text
…I Wonder
Tumblr media
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader becomes a full-time nanny to three-year-old Benjamin, but what she doesn’t realize is just how hard the job will be— not because of the child, but rather her growing attraction to his father. Category: Mature (18+) Content: adults with age gap, drinking, dry humping, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, “little girl” nickname, cum play, praise Word Count: 11k (idk how this keeps happening lol)
MASTERLIST
NOTE: This fic is titled after and loosely inspired by "Pony" by Ashley Monroe. It's not required listening, but obviously I recommend the song. It's been a favorite of mine since I was a teenager obsessed with Dean Winchester, so... that probably explains a lot about why I am the way I am... LMAO anyway, enjoy <3 I had a blast writing this one!!
———
ACT I: If I Had A Baby...
The first job I ever had also happened to be the best job I ever had. I was twenty years old, and I found an ad in the paper searching for a full-time nanny to a little boy. I didn't think anything of it, other than I desperately needed the money and I didn't mind babysitting. A few years out of school with no plans to attend college and no solid idea of what I wanted to do with my life, I wasn't sure if I'd even get hired. I was almost certain that no one would want a college-aged kid with no stable ambitions or previous job experience, but I was desperate. And CPR-certified.
It was a start. A shot in the dark.
By some miracle, Spencer Reid apparently was also desperate enough to be willing to take a chance on me.
He explained over the phone that he was away more than he'd like to be, and even if he tried to work from home, doing FBI work and raising a toddler alone at the same time was nearly impossible. I agreed to an interview, absolutely elated that I had a foot in the door and the bright beacon of hope for some sort of routine. Something to occupy my time and something to care about, to care for.
I was expecting the work to be... not hard, necessarily, but I wasn't naive enough to believe that taking care of a child was a walk in the park. There would surely be tantrums or bouts of "I miss Daddy!" or refusal to eat what I made him for lunch... I knew going into these interviews that I would be signing up for a major responsibility that meant a lot, not only to Spencer but also to his child. I had to prove that I could do my job and do it well. That alone was a challenge, but one I was willing to work with. I was ready for it.
What I wasn't ready for, however, was the betrayal I felt when my brain failed to warn me of the possibility that he was not only a single father, but a hot one.
The second I showed up at his door and he opened the barrier between us, I swear it felt like the sun swallowed me whole and burnt me to a crisp. He smiled brightly and introduced himself, and I was done for.
"You must be Y/N! Hi, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid."
Doctor? So he was smart, then, too. Perfect. The Trifecta of Peak Hotness had been achieved. That instantly made this new job ten-times harder than I anticipated, and I hadn't even started yet.
I wasn't sure I could go through with it at first, but the more we talked, the more I relaxed, and I felt sympathy for him. He was a genuinely kind and loving parent who wanted the best for his son, a three-year-old named Benjamin who loved dinosaurs and airplanes and Cheeto Puffs. I didn't get to meet him that day, since he was with his Aunt JJ (who, the way Spencer told it, was most likely feeding his Cheeto Puff addiction as we spoke), but if the interview went well, I'd get to meet him in the next week.
I mulled over my options and almost decided not to show up for the next interview; to call and tell him I'd changed my mind or something, but it pained me to even imagine the disappointment in his voice had he asked me why. For whatever reason, the vivid image of a toddler pouting and crying to his father because he had to leave, and that no one wanted to care for him burned itself into my soul until I relented and just took the job anyway.
It was fair to at least meet the kid first, right?
Benny was insanely talkative— but not really conversational. Most of the time I tried to keep up, but his mouth was moving a mile a minute, and the conversation always ended up falling flat on my end, so I pretty quickly decided to give up and enthusiastically let him carry it.
He had his father's brains as well. For hours that first meeting, he sat there and read me passages of aircraft encyclopedias, and in between two random sections I politely requested that we move on to dinosaurs (which were infinitely cooler). And then, in that adorable toddler voice that made it impossible to be irritated, he looked up at me with wide eyes and said, "I read all my dinosaur books last week. This week is for airplanes."
Spencer looked like he was going to divert the conversation entirely, perhaps suggest that Benny do something else while we talked some more, but who was I to interrupt the kid's routine and crush his dreams? If I was going to be his nanny, then I was going to have to make him like me. Right?
So, I nodded like I'd never considered it and encouraged him to keep going. To which he did, very happily.
Spencer seemed happy, too. He was always delighted to see Benny when he came home from work, but there was something about the way he relaxed and perked up all the same at my first interactions with his son that twisted my gut. What that man was filled with at the sight of me wasn't just joy, but hope, too, and regardless of where that joy and hope came from, it was an incredibly dangerous thing to notice as a young woman.
It was way too easy to fall into daydream territory. I was alert and attentive when watching Benny, of course, but the second Spencer walked in and completely knocked the wind out of me with that joy and relief radiating from his perfect smile, it was like a screw came loose in my brain and turned me into a feral, horny beast. And then I would return home, alone with my thoughts, and I couldn't divert them from the wild direction they took.
At first it was just your standard wet dream, a girl lusting over the older man she nannied for. It was purely pornographic and provided nothing but short-term relief until I saw him in person again, which frustrated me.
I almost thought about quitting, or saying I was looking into schooling so I could cut down on my hours, but...
That wasn't fair to Benny. He and I had actually formed a pretty stellar routine, if I do say so myself.
And every time I thought about leaving, I couldn't help but think about what I would tell him. Would I even tell him anything at all, or would Spencer just omit me from his life completely and give him an explanation in my place? Who would watch over him after I left? Someone old and mean who made him eat vegetables instead of Cheeto Puffs, and demanded he read to them about dinosaurs instead of airplanes, not giving him the option to develop his curiosity in whatever way he chose? Who would tuck him into bed on the nights his father was late or out of town, and would they sleep on the couch soundly and happily like I did?
I hated even thinking about it.
And then there was the first paycheck.
Truth be told, I hadn't even thought about the money, not after I met the boys and introduced them into my daily routine. I remembered Spencer telling me after my first day alone with Benny that he wouldn't get a paycheck to me until the start of the next month, and I was okay with it. Really, I was just focusing on trying not to drool for the entire conversation, but I digress.
Payment completely slipped my mind.
And then I showed up to do my job, and Benny was nowhere in sight.
"Where's the little guy?" I inquired, looking around and hearing nothing either. "He's usually waiting at the door for me like a dog."
Spencer laughed and concealed something behind his back. "He does really enjoy his nights with you... He's actually staying with JJ and her kids tonight, though. Our schedules opened up and she offered to take him for the night. I was going to call and tell you, but I wanted to give you this, anyway."
He handed me an envelope, folded over but not sealed. I took it with an, "Oh," unsure of what it was until I saw the corner of the check. It felt rude somehow to open it in front of him, but his presence was so overwhelming anyway, especially being alone with him, that I needed something to occupy my hands and my thoughts and just about everything else I had in my possession.
At first, I thought it was a joke. A prank. It was too good to be true; He was just messing with me and would hand me a fifty-dollar bill on my way out for my trouble. Surely, if not that, then it was a mistake.
I didn't know how long I'd stood there, staring at the paper with whatever expression was all over my face, but it must have been too long and too concerning because Spencer sounded worried when he asked, "Is there something wrong?"
I blinked for a moment, then finally had the courage to look him in the eye, my mouth completely dry. "You are not giving me five-thousand dollars right now."
"Well... No, technically, I'm giving you a check for five-thousand dollars. What you do with it and when is completely up to you, but... You deserve it. Y/N, you've been a Godsend, and Benny and I are lucky to have you around. Thank you. Very much."
I didn't even think about it. It was an insanely kind gesture, and I was in such a state of shock and gratitude and mind-numbing attraction to him in that moment that I leapt forward and flung my arms around his neck, tears stinging my eyes.
He hugged me back tightly and laughed, allowing me to cry my thanks into his shoulder as we nearly tumbled into the coffee table.
ACT II: If I Was A Lady...
The months flew by, and before I knew it, it was Benny's fourth birthday.
Spencer and his friends heavily involved me in the planning process, a gesture that surprised me, but that I obviously would never be thankful enough for. It's not like I hadn't ever known a loving family or anything, but they were all so warm and welcoming; it was like I'd been friends with them my whole life. My chest bloomed brightly with every laugh and every hug, and I don't think I could have been any happier. I felt like I belonged there.
It was a day, and night, I would never forget.
Everyone had left, and Benny was fast asleep in his bed. Spencer and I looked down at him with smiles so bright, if they'd actually radiated any light the poor boy would have woken up.
"Ah, the cake coma," I laughed quietly, Spencer guiding me out of the bedroom. I couldn't stop giggling even as we walked—Admittedly, I was a little buzzed on champagne. Still, Spencer laughed with me, and we sat down on the couch. I could tell he was exhausted, but happy.
"I still have to clean all of this up..." It was more of an amused I'll-do-it-tomorrow statement, but I had this drunken simmering need to please him so badly that I shook my head and hit his arm.
"No. That's my job. I'll take care of it, you just take your beautiful ass right to bed, you hear me?"
He raised an eyebrow but laughed at me anyway, clearly amused by my banter. "Maybe I shouldn't have allowed the underage drinking after all..."
"Oh, please. I'm not even drunk, just a little loose. Besides, I'll be twenty-one in a couple of months anyway."
"Mmmm."
I hadn't realized how much closer we'd gotten until just then, when he hummed and looked me over. I could feel his breath on my face, and our limbs were just barely touching. Suddenly it was like my entire body was numb, sizzling everywhere we touched, and the champagne had become a part of my bloodstream. The fizz was all I knew, all I was.
Spencer's eyes found mine, and they didn't look away. They pulled me in slowly. I was powerless to stop it, not that I'd ever want to...
In fact, I very eagerly melted into him the second our lips found each other. My head swam, my fingers started tingling, and I was very aware of every movement we made. I straddled his lap, and he welcomed me with open arms, pulling me flush against him as his tongue darted out swiftly to taste mine.
I couldn't believe it was actually happening. Every few seconds I kept thinking to myself, this feels like a dream... It has to be a dream... Between the pent-up attraction I'd been accumulating for him over the last few months and the alcohol that loosened me up and dissolved any ounce of common sense I possessed, I felt like I was in a different world entirely.
He hardened underneath me and my nerves went nuclear, instinctively forcing my body to roll over his. I ground my hips, aching to feel that sweet friction that I'd only felt once before with another man— so long ago and so unbelievably dull in comparison to the sensations I was feeling in Spencer's lap. I was only barely experienced with sex, but I was experienced enough to know that I didn't have anything to be nervous about; This man would take good care of me. I felt it in my bones.
The thought alone sent my body into overdrive. I whined and rolled my hips relentlessly, wishing I was completely bare and feeling him so deep inside me that his absence would leave me haunted. I wanted to feel him forever. I wanted him to ruin my life and claim me as his own, until there was absolutely nothing left of me.
His hands cradled my head reverently as he continued to kiss me deep and slow, raising his hips up to meet mine and aid in getting me off. The gentle tugs of his fingers through my hair and the warm hums of encouragement he offered to my mouth as I climbed higher and higher towards that precipice of pleasure made me weak. I felt so fragile in his arms, like I was meant to be right there, allowing him to guide me wherever. I would have done anything for him, anything so long as he kept holding me and making me sigh—making me glow.
"Fuck—I'm gonna come," I exclaimed in a broken whisper, breaking apart from his mouth to bury my face in his hair. He brought his hands down to my hips then, groaning as quietly as he could into my neck as he helped me rock back and forth across his lap.
It wasn't an earth-shattering intense orgasm by any means; there wasn't nearly enough stimulation for that. But I was so wet and aroused that even the low, quick and burning pleasure that shot through my core for a few seconds was enough to satisfy me. I wasn't in any position to complain.
That was, of course, until I reached down to touch Spencer's belt, and he pushed me away. Not aggressively, but his hands—which had been so gentle and welcoming just moments before—had gone rigid. Frozen and firm, like he'd just been scared half to death.
He scrambled out from my reach and put so much distance between us that I went cold. My name tumbled from his lips in a regretful sigh, and it stung.
"We can't ever do that again."
"Okay," was all I could manage to say. I was still tingling all over, like my whole body had fallen numb and was now just warming up to the idea of having senses again.
"That was irresponsible. And I'm too old for you."
"M-hm," I agreed absentmindedly.
"You should go home."
"Okay."
"I'll call you a cab."
"Thank you."
I went home that night with a deep twist in my gut that wouldn't go away. The rejection hurt. It scared me, too, wondering if I'd still have a job when I woke up in the morning. Was that the last time I would ever see Spencer? And Benny? Had I really just screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me?
I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on Spencer's couch, getting myself off in his lap and reveling in his embrace. I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, hating myself for being so reckless, and even more so for not regretting it a single bit.
After I was finally able to get a solid couple of hours of sleep, I had a text message from Spencer waiting for me when I woke up.
I sincerely apologize for last night. The job is still yours, but I also understand if you don't want it anymore. Take a few days, whatever time you need, and let me know.
I was relieved, of course, but also deeply curious to know how we would keep things professional after something like that. I guess I was just mostly surprised that he was willing to, considering he seemed pretty rattled by it.
Still, If he was willing to try, then so was I.
I'm sorry, too. I wouldn't give up you and Benjamin for the world. All is well?
He texted back almost immediately; All is well.
It only clicked into place a few months later, once the initial shock of our "escapade" had faded away and we could return to business as normal. Because, really, the truth was we couldn't return to business as normal. We tried, but he never looked me in the eye for longer than a second at a time, he refused to touch me in any way, careful not to even brush my hand as he handed me my monthly check, and his small talk was even more painful than it had been previously.
Still, I continued to be Benny's nanny—and best friend, according to Auntie Penelope, much to her dismay. I still loved that kid more than anything in the world, and I still, unfortunately, wanted his father to kiss me again.
I was willing to let it all go, though, to admit that it was a silly stupid crush that could never come to anything and just deal with it like an adult, and then I had to overhear the motherfucker when he came home one night. I was resting on the couch, about to open my eyes when I heard the door open, but then I heard a voice that wasn't Spencer's. It was his friend, Luke.
Spencer cut him off then. "Quiet, please."
There was shuffling, keys being set down, and then a small laugh as they got closer to me. I didn't move a muscle, focusing only on my breathing. "Right. Don't wake the hot nanny, got it."
"She's right there," Spencer hissed, and I tried not to laugh. My insides flared to life as he added, "And I asked you not to bring that up..."
"Oh, come on, Reid. You have the hots for her; big deal. It's normal."
"So? I'm... I'm technically her boss, and she's far too young for me. It's not right, and you know that."
"Whatever. You do what you think is right, man, but I'm telling you; Ignoring it is only going to make you more stressed."
Spencer mumbled something incoherent, and the two shuffled off into the kitchen for God-knows-what. All I could think about was that he wanted me. It was probably killing him just as badly as it was killing me not to give into each other again. My mind was racing, my heart beat violently in my chest, and I knew then that I had to pretend to wake up or else I'd sit there and burst into flames.
I had to leave. I had to do something; What, I didn't know, but this revelation had me reeling and feeling a myriad of things, and I needed to sit with them, preferably alone so I wasn't tempted to just jump him on the spot.
"Did we wake you? I'm sorry." Spencer's kind voice warmed me from the inside out as I shuffled into the kitchen to say goodbye.
I quickly gathered my things and avoided his gaze. "Oh. No, you didn't. If you're back for the night though, I'm gonna go home. I'm exhausted."
"Little guy was that rambunctious, huh?" Luke joked.
I smiled and gave him a wink. "Oh, no. He was an absolute angel, as always. His daddy raised him well. Goodnight. See you tomorrow, Doctor Reid?"
He cleared his throat, rasping out, "Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight."
"Night."
I tried not to run mischievously out the door, willing my legs to be normal. But the second there was a tangible barrier between us, I bolted to my car, high on adrenaline and unable to wipe the smile from my face; I was wide awake.
Eventually, though, I realized it would be absolutely stupid to do anything about it. Did it boost my ego and my mood? Absolutely. It also softened the blow of his avoidance and his initial rejection that night; All of his behavior made much more sense. Sure, I was a little disappointed that he wouldn't entertain our mutual desire, but as long as it was there... It couldn't be that bad, right?
Wrong.
I'd gotten a text from him earlier in the day, asking if I could come over last minute to watch Benny. I wasn't going to say no, obviously, but when I got there to see him dressed up, I shot up an eyebrow.
"A little fancy for work, yeah?" I told him, hanging my keys up and listening for Benny.
"Oh, I'm... not going to work, actually. I, uh... I have a date."
I froze. I panicked. I didn't know what to do, what to think, or how to react. Naturally my thoughts immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario—visions of Spencer sleeping with another woman, someone older and not a nanny. Someone who was distinguished and well-read and smart, someone like himself. Someone who was more inherently right for him. It... made me sad.
Admittedly, I felt stupid even thinking that way. It wasn't my right to dictate his dating life, no matter how badly I wanted him; I knew what he tasted like, knew how it felt to come undone in his embrace, and yet I wasn't entitled to him solely based on that.
Still. It doesn't mean I had to like it.
"Oh... Um... Good for you," I told him, nodding and turning away in case he tried to profile me. "Have fun."
He said goodbye to Benny a few minutes later, and then gave me a polite, transactional wave on his way out the door. It shut, and it felt like my chest was collapsing.
But I was only able to wallow for a few seconds. Benny tugged on my sleeve and looked up at me quizzically.
"Auntie Y/N, are you sad?"
His sweet face lifted my spirits like it always did, and I didn't have the energy to think about the other emotions that were swimming around in my chest anyway. So I smiled at him and picked him up, shaking my head. "Not anymore, kiddo; I get to hang out with my favorite person!"
We spent all night munching on Cheeto Puffs and building Lego sets, and it was unsurprising to me that by the time I'd finished one, Benny had finished three. Still, our sets combined to make a larger one, and then we were able to give the people names and backstories and adventures.
Either time passed very quickly, or Spencer didn't last very long on his date, because the front door opened and I was surprised he was home before I could put Benny to bed.
"Daddy!" he exclaimed, running and dropping his half-eaten Cheeto Puff in my lap. I laughed and tossed it in the trash can on my way to the door, greeting Spencer, who was hugging his son tightly and making him giggle profusely.
"You're home early," I observed as he set him down.
"Had to make it home before curfew, of course." A joke. He was deflecting. I kind of hated that I felt relief at the insinuation.
"Of course," I agreed.
"So, what did you guys do while I was gone?"
Benny jumped and grabbed his father's hand. "Auntie Y/N and I made a whole Lego village! It has a library!"
"It does?" Spencer asked bending down to his level and positively beaming. The sight made my chest tighten.
"It really does! Do you want to come see?"
"Oh, absolutely. I just have to talk to Auntie Y/N first, and I'll be right in, is that okay?" He nodded and Spencer ruffled his hair. "Okay. Say goodnight."
Benny turned and ran to me then, and I squatted down to hug him. "Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Thank you for building with me."
"Oh, you're welcome, kiddo. You're an excellent building partner; The best in the business."
He laughed and scampered off to his bedroom, and as I stood up, I felt Spencer's eyes on me. I couldn't decipher what the feeling was on his end, but regardless, it burned a hole through me and made my heart pound in my ears.
"How'd it go?" I asked casually, dusting Cheeto off my jeans. Did you do it just to forget about how much you want me? Did it work?
He shrugged and leaned against the counter with a lazy smile. He almost looked exhausted. "I'd have much rather liked to be at home with my boy and his best friend to tell you the truth."
My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was getting at. Was he fucking with me? Or was he simply telling the honest, innocent truth, while I was letting my lust take the drivers' seat and go searching for some insane imaginary intention to help along my hot-single-father/nanny fantasy?
Suddenly, I was the one who felt exhausted, and Spencer could tell. He shifted and continued talking. "Thank you again for staying with him on such short notice."
"Oh, anytime. It's what I'm here for. In fact, feel free to go on all the bad dates you want."
I don't know why it came out of my mouth, but I was glad that Spencer laughed. Still, I scrambled to get my keys and walked past him to leave, kind of embarrassed by the verbalized impulsive thought regardless.
His hand grabbed my arm gently before I could leave, and my heart caught in my throat. I dared to look up at him and immediately felt that familiar heat return to my core, suddenly very fragile under the weight of his gaze.
He studied me for a moment before he let go of my arm and cleared his throat. "Goodnight."
I couldn't help the feeling that he wanted to tell me something else. He did say he wanted to talk to me before putting Benny to bed, after all... So, what? That was it?
It was stupid, and I should have just told him, "Goodnight," back, but those damned impulsive thoughts kept dancing on my tongue with reckless abandon, and I couldn't stop them from escaping. So, without another thought, I tilted my head and asked him instead, "Was she my age?"
Spencer stared at me, something darkening in his eyes when he responded, "No."
I threw back one of his considering hums, glancing down at his lips before looking him directly in the eye and giving him a firm, "Oh." There were plenty more things I could have told him, none of them appropriate. But I figured I'd already had enough pushing my luck for the night, and reached for the doorknob instead of dragging it out. The night would end like it always did, with a formal, professional farewell.
I was about to finally tell him, "Goodnight," but his hand came down very gently over mine and rendered me silent. Our eyes met once more, and a shiver ran down my spine.
"Even if she had been, she wouldn't have been you."
And then he opened the door for me, and I walked out without another word, my head spinning and my heart threatening to give out on me. He hadn't even kissed me, but he might as well have; I was just as breathless.
ACT III: He Is Nice, But He Looks So Mean.
I was actually littered with nerves walking in the door the next time I came over to watch Benny.
I hadn't heard anything from Spencer for a week, until he called and asked me to come over for the night to watch him while he went to work. I was going to do it with no questions asked, obviously, but because that insane confession was echoing in my mind on a continuous loop since it happened, I couldn't even bring myself to think about seeing him again and knowing... I had no idea what reaction my body was going to have to being in his presence again.
It scared me, but also deeply excited me.
Once my body had enough courage to step through the doorway, my heart rate sped up exponentially, and then upon seeing what was in front of me, it stuttered with a terrifying halt.
Warmth flooded my veins and brought a smile to my face when the four-year-old boy I nannied for and loved more than anything threw his hands in the air and yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Happy Birthday!"
He ran up to me and nearly toppled me to the ground, and on instinct, my arms reached out to pick him up as he hugged my neck and listed off the things he did to celebrate.
"Daddy said your birthday was yesterday, but we wanted to give you a party just like you did for my birthday! So we went to the store and got you ingredients for your cake, and we made it just for you!"
"You did?" I exclaimed, setting him down and letting him lead me to the kitchen where the cake was sitting out on the table, clearly homemade by two boys who didn't know the first thing about baking or decorating anything. Spencer was standing across the kitchen table with a proud, albeit I-know-it's-not-much-to-look-at smile, but I barely had time to thank him before Benny told me about the process, step-by-step.
As he went on, I nodded and admired the cake, complimenting the purple and green swirls of frosting (his favorite color and mine, he explained), and the trail of assorted candies in the shape of a stegosaurus in the middle (my favorite dinosaur).
"Do you love it, Auntie Y/N?"
I hugged him again with tears in my eyes. I tried not to actually cry, but the tugging at the back of my throat and the blurring of my eyes was extremely difficult to push away. I realized then, as Spencer watched me with his son and looked like he might have been ready to cry himself, that it wasn't worth trying to hide. I was extremely moved and even happier in that moment than I think I'd ever been. I loved that man and his child more than anything I'd ever known.
So, I blinked hard and let the tears silently descend down my cheeks, kissing the side of Benny's head as I told him, "I love it so much. And I love you so much. Thank you."
I looked up at Spencer and said it again. "Thank you."
He nodded, reaching for the star-shaped candle next to the cake. "You're very welcome. Benny, do you want to help Auntie Y/N light the birthday candle?"
The boy squirmed in my arms and I let him down with a laugh as he excitedly reminded us, "That's my favorite part of birthdays!"
"I apologize if you find an eggshell," Spencer warned a few minutes later, slicing the cake after the song had been sung and the candle had been blown out. He slid my plate over and handed me a fork. "Benny and I did our best to fish them all out, but it's... surprisingly harder than it looks."
As Benny nodded in agreement, I looked down at him and took a forkful of cake. "Oh, I don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure you two are excellent eggshell fishermen."
The four-year-old giggled, but his father sighed as if to say, Don't say I didn't warn you...
To no one's surprise but Spencer's, the cake was delicious. I may have played it up for dramatic effect, putting on a whole show as I chewed and considered every bite, playing as if I was unsure and really critiquing the dessert. I set my fork down and looked at Spencer with squinted eyes, then slowly to his son. The suspense was obviously killing him, his small limbs bouncing with anticipation and a smile that suggested he was going to urge the verdict out of me if I didn't announce it very soon.
I decided to spare him the wait.
"Benjamin Reid... That might just be the best cake I've ever had."
"Really? No eggshells?"
I laughed, reaching to give him a high-five as he beamed up at me with sparkling eyes and a wide-open smile. "Not a single one. You should be very proud of yourself. You and your dad, both."
Benny hugged me again, and I glanced over to Spencer, who was slicing another piece of cake and staring at me with that intense look in his eyes, a satisfied half-smile adorning his face. A rush of heat came surging through my bloodstream like a tidal wave, and I had to look away from him or I was afraid I'd collapse on the spot.
Benny didn't know it, but he was saving my life in that very moment, as the three of us ate cake together. I refused to look at his father. I needed literally anything else to keep me from even glancing his way, and my four-year-old best friend's rambling habits were the perfect focus.
He told me more about his process for decorating the cake, and while I was genuinely a little surprised at how much thought there really could have been with the task, with an ever-moving mind like Benny's, it was actually quite clear by the end of it. It charmed me to no end and filled me with pride to know that I'd had enough of an impact on him to trigger this level of detail and consideration. Again, it's not like I'd never had people who cared about me before, but when it came to the Reids, my heart sang a tune I'd never heard, and it was the most beautiful, brightly vivid sound I'd ever had the pleasure to hear—to feel.
I was thinking too much about it, letting the song swallow me whole as tears stung in the back of my eyes and threatened to fall again, when Spencer's phone buzzed on the table. The sound grounded and intrigued me, even more so when he glanced up at me for a moment, right before directing his words to his son.
"Benny, Uncle Will is outside. Is your bag ready?"
He jumped from his seat and nodded. "In my room."
"Okay. Before you grab it, say goodnight to Auntie Y/N."
I felt the toddler's arms hugging my legs, and turned all my attention to him, refusing once again to look at the man whose eyes I could feel burning me alive with something deeply ravenous, begging to be unfettered. I had a feeling, creeping over my senses like a thick blanket of ivy, that I wasn't making it up and letting my desire for him take the wheel, either; Just as the loving, family-friendly song in my heart had been—bright and vivid—this feeling was just as much the same in its intensity, only echoed with a sound that felt very much like those dark, low hums Spencer always emitted alone in my presence. I felt it all around me and hoped to God that I wasn't about to leave this place feeling like a hopeful, stupid idiot.
"Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Did you like your birthday?"
"I did, Benny," I answered in earnest, ruffling his hair. "You're very thoughtful and kind. Thank you so much."
"I love you, Auntie Y/N."
I squeezed him tight and made sure he understood every word as truth when I told him, "I love you, too."
ACT IV: When I Grow Up, I Wanna Be Your Girl.
The apartment was quiet when Spencer took Benny outside to meet with Will. I did my best to keep myself busy, cleaning up forks and plates, and wiping down the counter tops while simultaneously ignoring the hammering of my heart against my chest. The organ wouldn't calm down, even as I hummed to myself. It's like those nerves that I had walking through the front door that night never actually went away— only subsided for a little while in favor of wholesome celebration.
Part of me wanted to flee, but I knew it wasn't an option. Not really. I had to at least talk to Spencer and thank him for the effort. Perhaps I was good enough of an actress that I could pretend to have been ignorant of his glances all night, or at least that they didn't affect me like he maybe wanted them to.
Catching myself in the act of overthinking again, I grunted and slammed a glass of water, willing the fresh liquid to wash away any insanity. There was no use going through all the possible scenarios in my head, not when there wasn't much time before Spencer returned. No matter what happened, I wasn't going to be prepared for it.
I certainly wasn't prepared for the way my heart practically leapt out of my chest when he returned, softly opening and closing the door. It took everything I had not to turn around and allow him to see how nervous I was. I kept my back turned, hoping and praying I wasn't visibly shaking as heavily as I felt. I was warm all over.
His presence behind me was dense and ever-present― almost suffocating. I took my time drying off the plates and forks I'd washed while he was away, hearing him rustle around without a word or acknowledgement of me, and then he finally spoke. I almost dropped a fork.
"Why are you doing my dishes, Birthday Girl?"
"My birthday was yesterday..."
He laughed and came up behind me, a gentle hand on my lower back as the other reached around and took the silverware from my grip. I relented, feeling myself numb at his touch and trying to steady my breathing.
"Yes, but we're celebrating today. In my household at least, that means you're not allowed to do any work."
I turned around to face him as he set the fork down on the counter, his other hand still hovering over my back. It returned to his side, disappearing into the pocket of his pants as I crossed my arms and looked up at him. Thankfully, despite the constant whirring of nerves and desire coursing through my entire being, I was able to hold a conversation without hesitation.
"You're not my dad."
Another amused grin. "No, I'm not. But I am your boss. And as your boss, I'm asking you to take the night off and enjoy yourself."
The way he was staring down at me seemingly punctuated his words with a gentle seduction that made me ache with need. I was getting stronger and bolder by the second, leaning forward just enough to be toe-to-toe with him.
"Okay, then, Boss... Tell me, are there any restrictions to enjoying myself in your household? Because..."
The second I heard that familiar hum rumble from his chest, I knew I was in danger― glorious, beautiful danger. His eyes glanced down at my mouth for a second before returning to my own, his body leaning into mine and his free hand reaching out to trap me against the counter.
I tilted my head and brought my fingers up to toy with the tie hanging from his neck. "I am all grown up now, after all..."
"And I suppose you know exactly what you want..."
"Mm-hmm," I drawled, pulling him in closer by the tie. Our lips were barely touching by that point, and I felt my head start to pulse with anticipation as he urged me to go on.
"Well?"
"I want to be yours."
He hummed again, pushing his body to mine and bringing the pocketed hand up to hold the side of my head. "Mmm, Darling, you always have been."
And then he kissed me.
He tasted like sugar, but his intentions were anything but sweet. His mouth devoured mine with a fire that threatened to turn me to ash. Every sense I had was alight, engulfing me in a heat so intense that it was all I was sure to know for the rest of my life. It's all I wanted and all I needed.
I met his intensity with eager hands, exploring the planes of his body as his tongue did wicked things to my own. This time I didn't even need the champagne; I was dizzy on Spencer alone. The fizz boiled me from the inside out and urged my limbs to cling to him like it was my life's purpose. Hell, for all I knew, it was my life's purpose― to burn for him and let him consume me. To revel in his dancing flame and allow it to become my life force. I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything.
And I was sure to let him know that, too, refusing to hold back the string of whines and moans that escaped me every now and again. The hand that had been resting on the counter behind me came down to grip and hike up my thigh, our hips colliding just as beautifully this time as they had the last. The memory caused another wanton sound to tumble from my mouth, and Spencer caught it greedily, pulling back for air long enough to squeeze my thigh and sing me a praise of his own.
"God, I love the sounds you make..."
His lips were on mine again before I could respond, but I didn't even need to. Not verbally, anyway; I guided his hand down the side of my face and over my chest, pushing my body into him and feeling his fingers tighten. His kisses grew hungrier, and suddenly I was starving.
I was finally able to break away from his mouth in favor of tasting the skin and stubble along his jaw. Then, I buried my face in his neck and reached for his belt, praying he wouldn't jump away like last time.
Thankfully, he didn't. His grip on both my breast and my thigh tightened again, but he didn't pull away from me. His breath didn't even hitch.
I took that as a good sign and slowly undid his belt. The sound alone was enough to send a jolt of excitement between my thighs, though the visions dancing behind my eyelids of what I planned to do in just a few moments helped my pleasure immensely. I dragged my tongue softly along Spencer's neck before freeing the belt and sinking to the ground alongside it. His hands fell away from my body and chose to root in my hair instead. The gentle tugging at my scalp admittedly made me stumble, but not out of discomfort; I was actually quite surprised at how much I liked the feeling.
Spencer noticed, humming again with amusement as I went back to tugging down his pants. Still, he said nothing, instead watching me intently as I continued my journey.
I didn't hide the desire I felt as I palmed the length of him through his underwear. In fact, I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep my sight leveled or to angle it up at him, because it was a damn good sight either way; The sensual nature of my fingers gently caressing him, knowing what was resting beyond that thin layer of fabric and imagining how it probably felt to him, or the thick and domineering air between his face and mine, his gaze committing every movement I made to wicked memory...
With a sigh, I opted to lean forward, ignoring the sharp bruising on my knees and putting all my focus into the task at large.
Spencer seemed to tell I was thinking too much, gently massaging my scalp and cooing, "Have you ever done this before?"
Yes, but... "Not with anyone I've actually wanted this badly..."
"Mmm, that does make a difference..." he observed. "Whatever it is that you need to be comfortable, Y/N― tell me. Okay? Promise me you won't hurt yourself in any way just to please me."
A surge of heat exploded through me at the intensity of it all. He was sincere, and by the sound of things, sympathetic to my overthinking. It was another show of just how much I wanted him to guide me, to hold me in his comforting, knowing embrace and show me exactly how life should be lived. Every life experience there was to know, I wanted to know it with him.
"I promise," I told him firmly, not breaking eye contact as I tugged at the cotton between us.
His eyes struggled to stay open when I finally gripped his cock, feeling the weight of it in my hand and bringing it to my mouth. I glanced down then, taking in every ridge as it disappeared slowly down the length of my tongue. I reveled in the taste, in the fullness I felt the deeper it went, and once it hit the back of my throat and caused me to choke and pull back, I angled my eyes back up at his face to find the most heavenly sight I'd ever seen.
Spencer watched me all the time. I was no stranger to his intense gazes. But when I looked up at him that time, his mouth open and eyes so deeply darkened with need that they could have drowned me, I truly thought I might have died and entered the afterlife. Perhaps that was dramatic, but there was no other possible way for me to describe the feeling that coursed through me in that moment. Suddenly I was chasing it, longing to be in that state of euphoria forever, and my mouth eagerly went to work in pursuit of it.
I took my time, exploring the ways he could fit in my mouth and the ways my tongue could cover the length of him. I went in search of any pleasure point I could find, occasionally looking up to gauge his reaction and finding nothing but those beautiful, salacious pools of liquid gold.
Eventually, I was brave enough to take him to the back of the throat again, holding him there and seeing how long it would take before I felt the air leave my lungs. I repeated the process a few times, stroking him with my hand in between gasps of air and shivering at the way he tugged my hair. My vision was starting to blur, but I persisted, aching to know what he tasted like as he came undone.
Unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards for me to find out that night.
I whined as he held my head away from him, praying he wasn't backing out.
"Stand up, please," he asked softly. It sounded like he'd been breathless, and maybe he had. The thought that I had that effect on him calmed my nerves and made me dizzy as I stood, and his hands cradled my head once again.
"You are so good," he whispered, kissing me deeply. I melted into him, only for him to pull back and continue his praises. "So beautiful..." Another toe-curling kiss, and then, "So perfect."
My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved over my jaw and to my pulse-point. "My good, sweet girl," he murmured, and the words caused me to clench around nothing.
"Please."
The word fell out of me with a whimper and at its urgency, Spencer's mouth attacked my neck with a gentle, hungry bite that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Follow me."
And I did. I always would.
As much as I would have loved the opportunity to look around his bedroom and make banter about what I discovered on any normal day, my brain was so overwhelmed and numb with desire that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.
Not that I would have had the time to think about it anyway; He was on me the moment my legs touched the edge of the bed, devouring my mouth once more and pulling me into his atmosphere with fervor. Willing myself to get even closer to him, I brought my fingers up to thread through his hair and was rewarded with another gentle tug of my own.
Suddenly I was extremely hot, squirmy and anxious to break free from the confines of clothing, and Spencer could tell.
He broke apart with a laugh, bringing a hand down to trace the collar of my shirt. "Have you no patience?"
"You're the one sucking my face like it's the end of the fucking world," I breathed when he shifted the collar and exposed more of my skin to the air, earning me another low grumble of a laugh.
"You're not complaining are you?"
"God, no."
"Mmm, good," he hummed into my cheek, reaching down and tugging my shirt over my head. The fabric caught on his nose for a second, bringing a laugh to the surface of my tongue before he swallowed it with another kiss and tossed the shirt to the ground.
Warm, nimble fingers spanned my bare stomach and thoroughly explored the surface area of me, up and up until they slipped under the backside of my bra.
"Is this okay?"
I pushed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip. "Yes, Doctor."
Goosebumps littered my arms as he deftly unhooked the bra and slid it off my body, and I barely had time to take a breath before he was kissing me again, pawing at my chest and slipping me his eager tongue. My senses were on overload, that hot pang of need pulsating between my legs as I then fell backwards, letting him lay me down and settle himself between them. His kisses traveled lower, tongue darting out to flick over my peaked nipple, and I involuntarily arched up into him.
No one had ever paid this much careful attention to my body before—It was always a quick pleasantry to get out of the way before the main course. But the way Spencer held and touched and tasted me felt like a crash course in intimacy. He was still hungry for me, obviously, but he made it feel like it wasn't just about the destination. He savored each and every second of the moment in all its pent-up, beautiful glory.
Which is why, when he finally slipped a hand down the front of my pants, he seemed delighted to find that I was practically soaked through my panties already.
His middle finger pressed firmly at my clothed heat, and I sighed into his mouth.
"Look at what I've done to you... Poor thing. You're just aching to be filled, aren't you?"
My head had no choice but to arch backwards as I moaned into the open air at his words, my legs clamping around his hand. "God, Spencer, please..."
"So I'm not wrong, then?" he mused, teasing me some more and just barely pushing the fabric aside. I squirmed and lifted my hips, trying to guide him in the right place, but he pulled away from me then, leaving me cold.
Only a second later did the heat return; Spencer stood at the foot of the bed and gently helped me scoot to the edge. He removed the rest of my clothes and stared down at my bare figure as he unbuttoned his shirt, debauchery settling in his eyes as they raked over me. With careful consideration, once his shirt was on the floor with the rest of my clothes, he came down and caressed my inner thigh, slowly spreading my legs apart.
"You're so wet and needy, I'm willing to bet you don't even need me to prep you..."
All it took was one lithe finger to prove his theory correct. It slid into me with ease, and I whined out at the contact. One finger swiftly became two, and after a few slow pumps with no resistance, he seemed satisfied. "Mmm, that's what I thought... You've been ready for me for a long time, haven't you?"
"Uh-huh," was all I could manage under the circumstances. Every word and every touch was rendering me incapable of anything more complex.
He removed his fingers from me then, and leaned down to nudge my nose with his own. "How are you feeling?" he asked me in a whisper, fluttering a gentle kiss over my lips as his cock barely teased my entrance. It was such a simple question, but it only deepened the desire I felt for him— It was gentle and attentive and intimate...
"Never better," I responded earnestly.
"Yeah?" he cooed. He pushed into me slowly then, and I gasped at the pressure. "Are you ready to take it?"
"Uh-huh," I stuttered once more, crying out silently when he finally bottomed out and ground his hips in a slow circle against my own.
"Tell me what you want, little girl," he begged sweetly against my lips. "Please, I need to hear you say it."
I gripped his shoulders and pulled back a little to hold his gaze, almost gasping out again at the way his hips pinned me down. It was difficult to form the perfect sentence, but I figured I didn't really need to say much at all― only the whimper-y, pathetic truth, which was, "I want you so bad..."
"As you wish."
The words barely left his lips before he began to move, hooking my legs around his forearms and spreading me apart further. He fucked me deeply, and with a steady pace that knocked the wind from my lungs and already had me seeing stars. That had never happened before.
Spencer could tell, a grin forming on his face as he freed one of his hands and softly traced my jaw. "Better than you thought?"
Absolutely. But there was something about that cocky grin on his face and the lilt in his voice that made me want to be difficult. I struggled to talk through heavy breathing, but I managed to choke out, "Don't... flatter yourself."
I don't quite know what I expected, but it was a bit of a shock to me when he hooked his thumb into my mouth and pressed down gently on my tongue, quickening his pace inside me and making me gasp out again.
"Aw... Are you not enjoying yourself?" he pouted without a single hint of sincerity; He knew I was.
I cried out and involuntarily closed my mouth around his thumb, my insides burning alive at all the sensations coursing through me. My cunt clenched around him, and he cried out himself, laughing softly as he did so. "That's what I thought..."
I wanted to watch him the way he watched me, to study his features and his movements and take it all in with reverence, but he was too fucking good at this. He was so skilled in the art of rendering me senseless, all I could do was lay there and take it. He gave himself to me in the most intimate, soul-crushing way, and I wanted to bask in it forever.
His other hand snaked along the inside of my thigh and held me open for him as he looked down, watching himself fuck me. I barely caught glimpses of his wandering gaze, wondering how he could be so focused when it was taking everything I had to stay cognizant. I blamed it on my lack of experience with good sex, and silently vowed to myself that one day I would return the favor.
Until then, I would lay at Spencer's mercy and take pleasure in the simple fact that he was willing to give me this― to give me a piece of himself that would no doubt ruin any other partner. He was setting the standard and exceeding it simultaneously. He was kind and caring and considerate. He was thorough and thoughtful.
And he was making me come. Hard.
The orgasm hit me out of nowhere, my body stuttering in quick, pulsing flashes of pleasure that got stronger and stronger each second. Spencer fucked me through it with ease, never missing a beat. His thumb slid out from my mouth and down my chin, allowing me to cry out for him all I wanted, which, seemingly was his goal.
"That's my good girl," he breathed, his voice tight. Perhaps he wasn't as put together as I thought. "Let it all out for me... Please..."
Please... God, that word sounded so good falling from his lips. It echoed in my mind as I gave him what he wanted, though not from choice. It was like his movements and his words were designed specifically to draw the sounds from my body. I would have given them to him anyway, but I didn't have to try, and that was the magic of it all. He knew exactly what would keep me mewling through the most intense pleasure of my life, and I was more than happy to allow him the pleasantry.
His orgasm came at the tail-end of mine, and though I was steadily growing tired at the exertion, I found the strength to clench around him again, recalling how he'd reacted before. I reached for his hand and allowed him to lace our fingers together as he came with a loud shuddering sigh.
Finally, I was able to focus, another chill running its course through my nervous system as Spencer pulsated inside me. His movements faltered as he spilled over, filling me so deep that I had no choice but to gasp again. My name sounded heavenly on his tongue as it danced in the air behind curses and sighs, and suddenly I understood why he enjoyed hearing my sounds so much. The warmth that bloomed in my chest as I watched and felt and heard him come undone above me delivered me to the most prideful of feelings.
I watched as his face relaxed, felt as his body eased and fell away from mine, and before I had time to even think of what to say, he was moving, kneeling at the end of the bed and spreading my legs again.
Oh, my God...
I couldn't even tell if I said the expression out loud, but I certainly felt its gravity in my bones, low and reverberating as Spencer inspected his work.
His fingers barely caught what had leaked out, and then his tongue followed suit, licking a gentle hot stripe up the seam of me. My fingers clutched at the comforter underneath me, searching for any sign of stability as my senses started to lose control once more.
"Darling," he praised, kissing the inside of my thigh, "you took me so well..."
I was halfway through telling him, "Thank you," when he started licking at my clit, making me stutter. He took his time, tasting me thoroughly while filling me with his fingers. Between drowning in the residual pleasure of my previous orgasm and also in the sounds he was making below me, it wasn't long before another one approached. It was sharp and quick, making my back arch up off the mattress as Spencer sucked my clit into oblivion.
Rather than incoherent cries of pleasure, the only thing that dared to leave my mouth at the sensation was a very loud, very appropriate, "Fuck!" to the evening air.
The curse tumbled out over and over again as the orgasm rocked through me, and he pulled himself away from me at the end of it with a shit-eating grin. "Such a dirty mouth..."
It took me a few seconds to catch my breath, shivering as he climbed back up on the bed and laid beside me. "You're one to talk, Doctor."
"I guess I'm a poor influence. Sorry."
It was mostly a joke, but I could tell that he believed there was some truth to his words. I did my best to reassure him, not only because he was my boss and I needed to reinstate the idea that we both made the decision to sleep together, not just him, but also because I secretly hoped he wouldn't regret the decision at all— regret me. Selfishly, I wanted to know if he'd consider keeping me around as more than just a nanny. I wanted to know if there was even a slight chance that this wouldn't end in total emotional disaster.
"You have nothing to be sorry for... Nothing..."
Spencer studied me for a moment, something settling in his eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it felt... warm. It was a different warmth than the searing heat that his gazes had radiated before. Perhaps it was wishful, foolish thinking, but I almost imagined it feeling akin to the realization that you were falling in love— the type of warmth that terrified yet excited you all the same, that triggered your nerves and also gave you hope.
It reminded me of that dangerous, beautiful hope that lingered in his smile every time he'd come home from a long day at work to see me and Benny safe and sound in the comfort of his home.
His hand gently brushed mine, I laced our fingers together, and that's when he finally responded.
"Neither do you, you know... I meant what I said. Every word." His fingers tightened in mine, and I felt myself become breathless again. "You're perfect. And I'm lucky to have you."
"You're just saying that because it's my birthday," I joked, trying to keep myself from crying in front of him. I didn't know why that was so important to me, especially considering just a few hours ago I'd decided not to hide the truth from him, no matter how emotional and teary of a truth it was.
Spencer pressed his forehead to mine, sighing my name through a smile. "You are... the best thing that has happened to me since Benny. I was afraid to admit it at the start, but... You're so good to him, and so good to me... I genuinely don't ever want to know what life would be like without you."
I couldn't help it then. My vision was suddenly obscured by tears, and I was blinking them away, letting him capture my lips in a tender kiss that rivaled any other.
I prayed in that very moment that there would be more like them in the future.
CODA: All My Rings Will Be Made of Gold.
Turns out, there had been plenty more, and then some.
It's hard to choose a favorite, though obviously I'm quite biased when it comes to my boys. So, I suppose it's easy for me to recall the night I got engaged as my favorite.
I wasn't nannying for Benny anymore; He was in school during the day (Kindergarten! I cried dropping him off on his first day, and Spencer had to console me with kisses and ice cream), and by that point I'd been moved into the apartment for almost a year.
I was out grocery shopping, and when I came home, there were flowers all over the floor, bright colors scattered in an obvious trail that led to the bedrooms. I didn't quite understand what was happening, but my heart still hammered in my chest, unable to shake that feeling of warmth and hope.
"Boys? What are you up to?" I called, dropping the bags off in the kitchen and following the flowers.
They were both kneeling on the floor of Benny's bedroom, Spencer with an open ring box in his hand, and Benny with a piece of paper in his.
"Will you be my mom?"
Really, how could I have said no? There isn't a world in which I ever would have, but even still. Benny was unable to sit still, waiting for me to answer him, and I remembered the night they presented me with that first birthday cake of many for years to come. He was the same way then, happier than ever to surprise me, and meanwhile all I wanted to do was burst into tears over how much love I was feeling.
Unlike that night, however, I was simply unable to tease him with the anticipation of an answer. I couldn't even pretend to consider it, not for a moment. It was the easiest answer I'd ever given. To this day, it still is.
Benny ran up and hugged me the tightest he ever had before, and Spencer got up from the ground to meet us, slipping a thin gold band on my finger as I repeated the word to him through the tenderest of kisses.
"Yes."
THE END.
2K notes · View notes
itoshiexx · 2 months ago
Text
when you're mad and use their full name
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
how the blue lock boyfriends react when you're mad and use their full name
pairings: isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro and itoshi sae x gn!reader (separate) | warnings: little arguments, angst if u squint, reader is kinda hot headed? lol, mostly fluff and the boys wanting to be in your good graces.
notes: did i kick depression in the ass to finish this? not really. but it worked, and here i am! this is my nagi seishiro debut omgggg hopefully i did him justice and he's not too ooc. also new design for the scenarios to match my theme. enjoy, lovelies! let me know if you'd like especific scenarios and send me an ask :)
masterlist
Tumblr media
ISAGI YOICHI
yoichi hoped he would die. 
really. 
it’s the least he deserved for making you angry — even more so because he didn’t know what made you angry in the first place. he spent the last fifteen minutes excavating his mind to try and remember what could have ticked you off so much that you don’t even wanna look at him.
he hates it. isagi needs your eyes on him, needs to hear your voice and touch your skin. and with the way you’re so silent and distant, he might be just like a man in the desert without water.
“baby,” he looked at you on the other end of the couch, intently watching the tv show in front of you.  just a glimpse would make him breathe again. just a nod would ease his nerves. hell, he would even take a glare, as long as you were looking at him.
but he got nothing. zero. nada.
“baby, please,” he tried again. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you mad.”
you furrowed your eyebrows, but still didn’t spare him a glance. he sighed.
“i’ll never do it agai—”
“do you even know why you’re apologizing, isagi yoichi?!” you asked, exasperated. your boyfriend froze on the spot when hearing his full name, because of course he didn’t. 
as far as he knew, you were having a great day together. he bought you breakfast from your favorite bakery, you made a delicious lunch and then you two went out shopping. he even gifted you with a beautiful necklace after an enthusiastic shop employee offered to show him some pieces—
oh.
“you got jealous of the saleswoman?”
“blah blah you got jealous of the saleswoman? heck yeah I did!” you impersonated him with a high pitched, sarcastic voice that showed just how mad you were. “she was all over you, yoichi, and you didn’t do anything!” 
he swallowed thickly, daring to approach you on the couch. he hugged your frame, despite the crossed arms in front of your chest making it a little hard.
“i’m sorry, darling. i didn’t even notice she was being inappropriate because you’re the only one i pay attention to. and i always figured people would never dare be so bold if you’re by my side and we’re clearly together.”
his sweet words coated you, making you glance away, knowing that looking at his puppy eyes would end you for good. 
“you should have done something anyway.”
“i know. i totally should, and i’m sorry i didn’t. i never meant to make you feel bad or let people disrespect you.” he rested his chin on your shoulder, breath shuddering right on your ear.
the sincerity in his voice was enough to chip away your anger, and you visibly relaxed in his embrace. yoichi held a breath of relief, knowing he still had to be careful.
“i’m sorry, baby. it won’t happen again. forgive me, please?” he placed a sweet kiss on your cheek, and god, how could you keep being mad like that?
damn isagi yoichi and his genuine blue eyes.
you uncrossed your arms, embracing his instead, and finally looked at him with love again.
“fine. but just because you’re so charming, ‘ichi.”
he chuckled. “you’re the charming one. i’m totally under your spell, darling.”
and when your lips met, yoichi hoped to keep living just to have more of you.
Tumblr media
NAGI SEISHIRO
people would often ask him if his detached, nonchalant persona ever got in his way through his life. seishiro would always say no, because everything and everyone he did care about understood his lazy way and inability to do… pretty much everything.
that didn’t mean he never made the effort, though. as much as nagi liked to live like a sloth and just go on with his life playing video games, there were still things in his life that were worth it. like football. his friends. and you, of course. 
ever since you met, seishiro discovered that being with you wasn’t a bother. and after he fell in love and you became a couple, he found himself eager to indulge you, even if it meant going out of his way. his friends congratulated him and expressed genuine happiness to see how much he improved, and that, along with your beautiful smile, filled his heart with joy. 
however, no matter how much he tried, he was still…
“nagi seishiro.” 
a shiver ran down his spine with the sound of your voice, and not the good kind. he had never heard you sound so stern, so angry, so… disappointed, even. enough to leave a sour taste in his mouth. so much so he immediately lifted his eyes from his console, only to find your harsh gaze.
“ehh? wha’ did i do, angel? don’t say my name like that,” he pouted, crawling towards your body splayed on the bed. 
even when you tried to fight his embrace, nagi took advantage of his large frame to engulf you and lay his head on your chest, so you wouldn’t walk away in case you got any angrier.
“babeeeee,” he whined, hugging you tighter.
“let go of me,” you said, and he just shook his head. “you deserve it. you weren’t even listening to what i was saying, were you?”
what a hassle. he really wasn’t listening, but… well, he got way too focused on beating the last boss. could you really blame him? 
he heard you scoff. “oh, my bad, i should have known it was the last boss. it’s more important than me anyway, right, nagi?”
fuck. fuck. fuck. did he say that out loud? he sounded like a dick. you had every right to be mad and call him by his full or last name. 
nagi lifted his head from your chest to look at you, feeling his throat tighten with the sight of your teary eyes. guilt gnawed at his chest when seeing how upset and frustrated you were. 
“eh, ’m sorry, pretty thing. i got too caught up ‘n didn’t notice you were talking t’me.”
“am i that invisible to you?” a tear almost rolled down your cheek. seishiro shook his head, a little more exasperated than usual. 
“huh? ’f course not, angel. y’re never invisible. all i see is you. y’re the most important to me,” he held eye contact, and even though you wanted to tear your gaze away, seishiro’s eyes were more magnetizing than ever, even if your view was a little blurry.
you knew your boyfriend wasn’t the type to lie, since he always claimed it was a hassle. you knew you were important to him, but his lack of consideration still hurt. 
“i’ll apologize as many times as you wish. ‘m sorry for not listening and making you feel bad. i never wan’ you to feel bad, pretty thing.” 
nagi used his strength to roll around and switch your positions, in a way you were on top of him instead. he started caressing your hair in a soothing motion, making your eyelashes flutter. “y’can talk as much as you want. i promise i’ll listen t’you.”
your eyes welled with tears for a different reason, and you hugged the striker as hard as you could. even if he faltered, seishiro never failed to make up to you and make you feel loved.
“promise, sei?”
“promise.”
Tumblr media
ITOSHI SAE
although sae wasn’t exactly smart in the emotions field, he always knew when you weren’t happy with something. you scowled, huffed and rolled your eyes, keeping an eerie silence that was only broken when absolutely necessary. 
at that moment, he was sure you weren’t happy with him.
you both kept to yourselves while still at the event, masquerading any problems for the cameras. sae had a hand at the small of your back and he could feel how stiff you were. the midfielder wouldn't admit that seeing you so uncomfortable around him made his heart pang.
at the limo, the path to your shared penthouse was quiet, and you brushed him off when he tried to hold your hand. sae could only stare at his window with furrowed brows, itching to dissipate this awkward atmosphere. he never liked when you were mad, especially at him.
he expected some sort of explosion when you got to your apartment, but you kept your glaze off him, trying to walk to the bedroom for your night routine without even sparing him a word. 
nuh-uh. that wouldn’t do. 
he held your wrist before you could go, and lightly pulled you so that you were facing him. your eyes widened with the sudden movement, but narrowed as soon as landed on his face. 
“why are you mad?”
you scoffed. the audacity of this man. 
“you know exactly why i’m mad, itoshi sae.”
shit, the government name? you were really fucking angry.
“i wouldn’t be asking if i knew,” he answered, immediately regretting it when you glared at him, as if saying that wasn’t the right answer. “i-i mean… i didn’t realize what was wrong, amor.”
you walked closer to your boyfriend, making him release your wrist. despite his typical stoic face, sae was clinging to your every word.
“itoshi sae, you can not talk to your little brother like that!” you nearly growled on his face, surprising him. “you were very rude and condescending, and that’s no way to speak to rin!”
he frowned. you were mad because of rin? the little green monster inside of him threatened to grow, but he forced him to stay put. sae didn’t want to anger you further, so he simply let his hands slither to your hips, pulling you closer to him.
“i don’t think i was rud—” you lifted one eyebrow, and he rolled his eyes. “fine. i might have been kinda harsh.”
“and?” you crossed your arms.
he sighed. “i will apologize.”
“i’m serious about this, itoshi sae. i will ask rin—”
“i’ll tell him i’m sorry, okay? no need to keep talking about rin.” he interrupted, palms traveling to your ass while he nosed your neck. he planted a small kiss under your ear, huffing a minty breath that made you shudder. sae smirked. “and no need to keep calling me by full name, either. what happened to ‘cariño’?”
you held onto his biceps for some grounding, but still didn’t budge. 
“you weren’t very sweet today, so it’s not fitting.” 
he pouted while hiding in your neck, taking full advantage that you couldn’t see him, but was quick to withdraw to face you once again, touching your noses. one of his hands cradled your jaw, and you sighed with the pathetic effect your boyfriend had on you. 
“perdóname, amor?” he whispered against your lips, eyes sincere like you knew he could be. your poor little heart could never resist him when he was like this, rarely vulnerable and eager for you.
you gave a long exhale, arms moving to tangle around his neck. and folded.
“as long as you make it right, mi cariño.”
Tumblr media
© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.
if you like my writing and would like to support me, you can 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ! any amount is welcomed and very appreciated! ♥
2K notes · View notes
awrkive · 3 months ago
Text
THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 2 — JJK (m.)
Tumblr media
for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.
the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.
PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader
GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
CHAPTER WORD COUNT 27.5k
CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, hopeless romantic!oc. shirtless jk in almost every scene ijbol he needs to get locked up, jk thigh tattoo 😔 a dash of sexual themes (ie: making out, grinding) and violence, this is pretty much MED SCHOOL LORE GALORE bcs boy, was there so much history mentioned here, 3/4 of this is in jk pov, so ladies.... prepare yourselves 🤔so much fluff, and we counter that with not major but not minor either ANGST, so many conversations and dialogues in this one lol, this hopefully offers every answer youre looking for from part one, when ur done reading the chapter this is how the keyring looks like
NOTES hi!! this chapter was supposed to be longer but i was like.. fuck that 😭 its getting too long. anyway. hope u guys enjoy this one!! this is my most favorite thing ive ever written i think n im weirdly very proud of this one idk. scream into my inbox and the reply section if u have #thoughtss 😄😄 [ important: pls make sure to read the note below ]
[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
You take your sweet time trying to right your wrongs.
After that day, you were the one to initiate a call with Mingyu which he answered thankfully (you were a little skeptical about him calling you that night). You went over to his place after your shift, apologizing to him for lying about your roommate situation. Admittedly, Mingyu still doesn’t seem to be wholly okay with it – but he doesn’t really say anything more about it. He kissed you better that night, his lips making you forget all about the stress that you’ve went through for the day, convincing you to stay over.
The night bled into two when he said he couldn’t let you go. Mingyu was persistent and you were unwilling to go in the first place. Partly because who didn’t want to spend more time with their significant other? But it’s also because of a certain someone that is no other than Jeon Jungkook.
Those two nights are going on four – which means that you’ve been avoiding Jungkook for the past three days now.
It doesn’t seem like a difficult task though because Jungkook seems to be doing the same. That was your hunch. He replies to you with dry-ass “okay”s when you text him about not going home because you’re staying at Mingyu’s. Nothing more, and nothing less.
Which is unusual of him. Sure, in your almost decade-long friendship, you’ve fought a bunch of times. But it usually gets resolved in a day or two. And Jungkook wasn’t ever cold like he is right now.
See, the regular Jungkook would find you anywhere on your floor at the hospital just to annoy you. When your time allows it, you eat together with your friends at lunch.
But now, he seems to always have something to do – which, okay, fair. He’s a surgeon, after all. But he doesn’t even spare you a glance whenever you two meet halfway in the hallways. Yesterday, you coincidentally scrubbed in together for the same surgery but he did not say a word to you other than, “Scalpel”.
The rest of your friends are already asking about it. Doyeon told you he had lunch with Jungkook this afternoon, but when she mentioned that maybe you were free to go with them, Jungkook suddenly had to look over a patient’s chart.
It’s not just a hunch anymore. He really is avoiding you.
And to be honest, you’re tired of the whole pussyfooting around. He’s being childish – and you’ll be the better person to come and talk to him about it. Granted, you’re three days late. But at least you’re doing it.
You texted Mingyu earlier this afternoon that you’re coming home to your apartment tonight. He was bummed about it, you could feel it through his message, nonetheless he replied saying he’ll miss you, which put a smile to your tired face from work.
When you went home from your shift at 9pm, Jungkook wasn’t anywhere in the house. Which was a shame – because you were planning to talk to him.
Well. Maybe you’d wait for him.
But it seemed like you underestimated your exhaustion for the day because as soon you finished showering, dressing yourself with your bed clothes which consists of comfortable flimsy camisole and panty shorts, you went straight to bed and passed out – forgetting about Jungkook.
Tumblr media
It’s past 2 am when you feel yourself waking up from your deep slumber, stomach grumbling at the emptiness, and you realize you did not only forget about waiting for Jungkook but also about eating dinner.
Walking out of your room, you head straight to the kitchen where you immediately go to open the refrigerator to see if there’s something in it you can consume. There are boxes of Chinese food take-out which makes your eyes light up. When you open to smell them, it seems that they’re still new.
You deduce it must be Jungkook’s.
That gives you the predicament of whether you should eat it or not. You take you’re not exactly on good terms as of the moment – therefore you can’t eat his food. But you’re really hungry.
Throwing away your inhibitions, you open one of the boxes, not even bothering to heat the food.
“Hey,”
You almost jump upon hearing another voice. Looking to your side, you see Jungkook approaching, with only his boxers on, upper half naked.  
“H-hey,” you say, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Are these yours?” You point to the take-out box in your hand.
Jungkook nods and heads straight to your direction. Taking one of the boxes, he hauls himself to the kitchen island, twisting his body so that he can face you.
“Yep.” he responds, dipping his fingers inside the box and taking out strands of noodles from it.
You wince at the sight. “Look like worms.”
“Just like worms.” Jungkook grins, chewing on them in that obnoxious way because he knows you don’t like noisy eaters.
Frowning, you decide to follow him to the island and haul yourself on top of it as well, sitting beside him. Jungkook scoots to the side to give you more room.
“It’s kind of like eating naengmyeon, I don’t like naengmyeon.” You tell him, opening another box and feeling delighted to see untouched stir-fried rice. “Did you just buy this earlier?”
Jungkook nods. “Left them in the fridge when I realized I wasn’t too hungry.”
“Then you woke up feeling hungry?” You smile at him.
He chuckles. “Yeah. When did you get off work?”
“Nine. You?”
“Twelve am.”
You grimace at that, but nod in understanding.
There’s a beat of silence before Jungkook speaks up again.
“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“Just wanted to remind you I’m still your housemate…” you joke, brushing your elbow against his arm in a teasing manner.
Jungkook laughs as he shakes his head. He picks up another batch of noodles in his fingers and then offers it to you, prompting you to arch your brow at him. “Try it.”
You shake your head. “I hate cold noodles.”
“Just try,” He insists, placing it closer to your face. You scrunch your nose, skeptical. It makes Jungkook chuckle lowly. “Head back.”
Hesitantly, you tilt your head back and open your mouth as Jungkook puts the noodles inside it. You almost choke on it when Jungkook laughs mid-way, making you laugh as well, but thankfully, you were able to chew all of them just fine.
“What the fuck.” You frown, slapping his arm good-naturedly.
“Wasn’t so bad, huh?”
“It was bad.” You say, going back to eating your fried rice. Jungkook gives you a look that says he’s not convinced. Looking at his face, you roll your eyes, “It’s like eating–” you stop mid-sentence as Jungkook quickly wipes off something on the side of your lips. It’s so quick though that you brush it off just as instantly and continue, “—literal worms.”
“Imagine if worms tasted like noodles. Wouldn’t that be sick as hell?” Jungkook muses, stretching his arm over you to reach for another take-out box on the counter. It’s so sudden that your immediate reflex was to stretch your upper body backwards, feeling a little taken aback when Jungkook’s face gets a little too close to your stomach, with his arm rubbing over your bare thighs.
He seems like it doesn’t move him, though. Just goes back to his position casually and opens another box. As he does, you can’t help but take a quick look at his bulging thighs, the short length of his boxers letting you get a brief view of the tattoo that peeks out of the expanse of his skin. You’ve seen that before many times, but not the entirety – of course not. It looks like it goes up from way above. Anyway, it’s sort of like a flower, but you’re not sure. You never really asked him about it. He never brings it up either.
“Oh, man, the dumplings got cold.” Jungkook picks inside his box as if he’d miraculously find one that’s not cold.
You roll your eyes at his antics. “You stored them in the fridge for like how many hours now?”
Ignoring you, Jungkook takes out one dumpling, trying to eat it, and you watch as he visibly winces. In a moment, he shoots one straight to the trash bin across from you.
“Oh, that’s real mature.” You say dryly.
With that, Jungkook throws another one, giving you a cheeky grin when it lands in the bin successfully for the second time.
Pursing your lips, you sarcastically say, “Wow. Two points to Xavier from Jeon Jungkook.”
That makes Jungkook look at you instantly.
“How the hell do you know that?” He gives you a look of confusion but there’s amusement written all over his face at the same time.
“Well… Mingyu told me you both played for the basketball varsity team back in undergrad, so,”
Jungkook stops. There’s look of something in his eyes that you can’t quite point out, but then suddenly, he nods.
“He told you how good I was?” He says with a teasing tone, a contrast to his sudden and quick drop of mood a few seconds ago.
You throw him a tissue. “Don’t be cocky. He just mentioned it.”
“I was captain. Two-time MOP, 2018 and 2019 NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament.”
You look at him with silent reverence. Well, Mingyu didn’t tell you all that, that’s for sure. It’s a bit surreal to picture Jungkook wearing a basketball uniform, though. You’re so used to seeing him in scrubs and lab gown and his usual casual, occasionally suits when you attend formal conferences. You’ve only ever seen him sweat it out whenever he works out in the living room.
“Impressive.” You say. Jungkook grins proudly. “It’s strange I only know about it now, though.”
“You never asked.” He shrugs. “What ‘bout you? I only know you’re little miss summa cum laude.”
Huffing, you jab at his arm when he mentions it, rolling your eyes at him which only earns you a chuckle. Regardless, you tell him, “2018 NCA College Nationals. We won Coed Division One.”
Jungkook arches a brow. “NCA… National Cheerleading Association?” You nod, eating from your take-out box so as to avoid Jungkook’s look after you do so.
“No fucking way,” He says incredulously. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. You never really get to share this part about you with a lot of people. To quote Jungkook, they never ask. It’s funny when they do get surprised by it though, like he is now. When Jungkook stares at you – you don’t know if it’s just in disbelief – longer than necessary, you realize he’s staring at your face and that makes you consciously fix a strand of hair behind your ear. “Go big blue, go big blue, show ‘em what wildcats can do.” You sing a in fast tempo, chuckling about how silly it sounds.
Jungkook utters a sound of amusement. “That’s… wow. Right now, I’m just picturing you cheering but it’s a bit hazy and shit.”
“You’re saying you can’t picture me cheering?” You playfully accuse, but you know exactly what he meant. Even you still don’t believe that you actually did cheer in undergrad. When you signed up for it, it was just because you had to choose a club, and you weren’t interested in anything other than that. You thought cheering would be fun and it was fun.
“No, I’m just—” Jungkook cuts himself off and looks at you. “Okay, now I totally deserve a cheer for that two-point shot I made just now.”
You laugh loudly at that. Covering your mouth, you look at him to see if he’s joking but he seems to be serious.
“No.” You say, your eyes widening, body stiffening.
“Come on,” Jungkook chuckles.
You roll your eyes. “You have to do more than a two-point shot to get a cheer.”
“Okay, what do you want me to do?” Jungkook eagerly presents a challange. You stifle a laugh when he gears up for something. “I can shoot dumplings further from here with my left hand.”
“Ten feet away,” You muse, giggling when Jungkook suddenly gets off the counter, carrying the box of dumplings, and positions himself further away from you. Laughing, you shake your head before you say, “You can’t do it.”
“Try me.” He says as he begins to pick out a dumpling and concentrate on the trash can. Before he shoots, he tells you, “This one’s for you.”
You watch as the dumpling misses the bin.
Jungkook beats you to speaking first. “I admit. I’m a bit rusty.”
Sneering, you eat your fried rice, not straying your eyes from him. “You have to shoot, like, three dumplings.”
“That was a trial shot.” he insists, eyeing you playfully, before he gears up for another again. You watch closely when he makes a move to shoot another dumpling.
It goes in. Jungkook smirks at you when you look at him, impressed.
“Not bad.” You cock your head to the side.
“Tss.” He shoots another shot again and it’s successful for the second time. “That’s two.” Jungkook shows you his fingers and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.
“Let’s see if you can get the third.”
Jungkook nods, and you cover a snicker again at the way his stance suddenly turns serious, as if he’s really taking the whole thing seriously.
In a few seconds, he shoots the last dumpling straight to the bin just as successfully as the last time.
“What did I say?” Jungkook brags as he goes over to the island across from you, sitting on the high chairs this time. You turn your body to look at him, containing your smile. “Your turn now.” Jungkook says with a smirk.
Your purse your lips. “I’m a bit rusty.”
“So was I!” Jungkook claims which prompts a chuckle from you.
You look at him for a while, unsure. You close your eyes, bobbing your head side to side, covering your face as you suddenly feel a sense of embarrassment at the thought of dancing in front of him.
“Promise you won’t laugh?” You say after Jungkook tries to remove your hands off your face.
He raises his right hand and fixes his sitting posture upright. “Promise.”
“If you show your teeth I’ll stop and so will this friendship.” You threaten as you bring your legs over the island to his direction.
Jungkook chuckles while saying a series of “Yeah”s, holding your hand to help you hop off the counter safely.
You take a few quick strides to place yourself in the space between your counter and dining area and look at Jungkook who settles himself comfortably in the kitchen island chair, watching you with relaxed position and crossed arms.
Feeling uncharacteristically shy, you stand upright, suddenly aware that you’re only wearing a pair of panty shorts and a fitted camisole. You don’t work out so you’re a bit conscious in front of Jungkook who looks really good in his natural form. You don’t even understand how he finds time to go to the gym or do his little work-out sesh during some nights or weekends, but you shake away the thought and smile at him coyly. He has the better body, sure, but you know well enough he’ll never judge you for yours… besides, it’s just Jungkook. He makes you feel safe and secure, no matter the context of the situation.
Off the top of your head, you do whatever it is you remember from your college routines and begin your yell.
“Wildcats, get up and shout! We’re the team that’s gonna take it out! Give it all you’ve got, let’s hear you roar!” You chuckle mid-way, forgetting a step. “Sorry,” you apologize quickly, but then continue right away, trapping your bottom lip with your teeth to prevent yourself from completely losing it. “We’re the Wildcats, and we’re here to score! Go Big Blue! Go Big Blue—" You make a mistake again and skip a beat with your finger snaps, and when you look at Jungkook, you can’t help but give in to the laughter that’s been bubbling up inside you. “I can’t do it!” You say, cutting your “performance” short.
“What? It was good!” Jungkook says, encouraging you to continue further.
You stifle a laugh as you go back to the top again but then your mind forgets the next step and you’re messing up the choreography again. At that point, you start mindlessly cheering; jumping around and flapping your arms to make it look like somewhat of a cheer but none of the coordination. You know it looks messy, so you run over to Jungkook shamefully, plopping on the chair beside him. Bringing your legs up to the seat and covering your face in your thighs, you can’t help but giggle in embarrassment.
“Woah,” Jungkook says, but you can say there’s a hint of laughter in his tone. You know it’s not out of mockery when he lifts your head up and boop your nose. “That was cute. Best cheer I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re pushing it.” You hiss, kicking his knee slightly.
Jungkook captures your leg, and you squeal when he pinches your thigh. You both laugh at that and you thought Jungkook’s gonna let go of your leg but he keeps it on his lap.
“My stomach hurts from laughing.” You tell him, taking a deep breath, trying to regulate your heart. Everything feels funny. Your cheer was funny. You must’ve looked so stupid.
Jungkook chuckles. “Wildcats, get up and shout—”
“Jungkook!” You cut him off, removing your leg from his lap to kick him again on the thigh this time. That only prompts him to laugh louder.
When the high of the moment fades, Jungkook looks over at you.
“Do you feel sleepy?”
You shake your head. “Not really. At least not yet.”
He hums, and then takes your box of fried rice to eat from it.
There’s the silence again, but it’s quiet and comfortable. No weird tension sitting in the air.
“Jungkook,” You call him after a while.
“Hm.”
You clear your throat. “I meant to talk to you,” Jungkook stops eating and looks at you to acknowledge you. “I’m sorry.”
He stares at you for a moment. Then, he chuckles, shaking his head. “You know what’s funny? I was gonna talk to you yesterday to say I’m sorry but then you didn’t talk to me at all in the OR. I thought you were still mad at me.”
With furrowed brows, you tell him, “I thought you were mad at me. You only said “scalpel” in the OR and then that was it. No hi’s or hello’s in the hallways for the past three days.”
“Me? Mad at you?” He says, as if he can’t believe you would even think that. “I mean, you piss me off sometimes, but I don’t think I was ever mad at you.” You pout. Jungkook smiles. “I can never be mad at you,” His look is gentle and warm that you feel a little flustered for a reason unknown. It just ticks a little something in your brain, tugging something at your heart. Then, Jungkook sighs. “I’m sorry, too. For the way I went about it. The “bringing boys here” comment was out of line.”
There’s a wince on your face when you hear that.
That comment did hurt a little.
But you know it was just a heat-in-the-moment type of thing, and he just wasn’t able to think through his words well enough when he was… well, pissed – and rightfully so. Because you did something offensive to him, and you can’t blame him for feeling the way he felt.
You nod at Jungkook. “Thank you for saying that. I’m saying sorry because I realized what you said. I should’ve informed you I was bringing Mingyu home, and I should’ve told him about you being my roommate. We really could’ve avoided that situation.”
“You can just tell me beforehand if you’re bringing him to our place.” Jungkook shrugs.
You chuckle. “No. That won’t happen again.” And it’s true. It’s awkward and it’s rude when you have a roommate.
Jungkook looks at you. “Okay. I won’t do it as well,” You shake your head, playfully rolling your eyes at him. “I’m guessing you settled it pretty quickly with him?” He gestures at your neck and you realize he’s referring to the necklace you’re wearing – the one Mingyu gave you the very same day you fought.
You want to point out it’s not really new, but you settle with, “Yeah. Fortunately.” as a response.
“I really am sorry for what happened.” Jungkook says and you can feel the sincerity in his voice.
“It’s fine,” Touching his arm, you give him a small smile. “Have you and Mingyu talked?”
Jungkook shakes his head. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you think about how that’s… not good. They were friends before you and have just met each other again after so many years – you do not want to be that kind of person who gets in the way of some other people’s relationship.
And you really can’t have Jungkook not liking your boyfriend or your boyfriend not liking Jungkook, either.
But as much as you want to suggest that they talk it out, you know you can’t. Besides, you trust that they eventually will. They’re grown men.
“So…” you trail off. “Are we okay?”
Jungkook’s lips tilt upwards. “Are we okay?”
“Come on,” you roll your eyes. “Do we hug it out or like – I don’t know – handshake on it?”
“Let’s hug it out like we’re twelve.” Jungkook grins and in a moment, he scoots closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your chest.
The angle is a bit awkward with Jungkook crouching too much you don’t doubt his position is anything but comfortable, but it works, and it gives you the opportunity to pat his head as you say, “I missed hanging out with you, buddy.”
“Can’t say the same thing.”
That earns him a slight pinch to the ear easily accessible to you.
“Ow!” Jungkook says and then add, “I hate to ruin the moment but… you’re not wearing a bra.”
You quickly grab both sides of his head to get him off your chest. He comes back sitting upright on his chair, laughing.
“Fuck off—” you flip him off and then look over your box of fried rice, but then you remember he was also eating it earlier. “You ate all of it!”
“Finders keepers.”
“I hate you.”
“Hm.”
You shake your head, standing up and starting to grab all the boxes to take them to the trash bin.
“By the way, I just got my approval from HR for our trip the next two weeks. Have you?” You ask him across the room. You can see Jungkook’s face light up at the mention.
“Yeah, of course. Got approved yesterday.” Jungkook grins. You watch as he stares at you a bit longer, his face showing a hint of confusion.
You arch a brow. “Why does your face look like that?” Jungkook shakes his head, obviously ready to dismiss it. But you’re persistent. “What is it?” You say, walking towards his direction and stopping in front of him.
“Nothing…” he trails off. Then he rubs the back of his head. “I just really thought that you…” You squint your eyes at him. Then he chuckles lightly and swipes his fingers through his hair. “I just thought the trip would be cancelled.”
Your eyebrows furrow. Frowning, you nudge at him. “What? Of course, not! We planned that trip like six months ago. I’m not backing out.”
Jungkook gives you a shy smile.
“Okay.”
You can’t help it. You bring your hands to his cheeks and pinch them.
“He’s so excited for his birthday trip!” You say, intentionally talking like you would to a toddler.
Jungkook predictably forces your hands out of his skin and holds your wrist a bit tight as he rolls his eyes at you.
“Knock it off.” He glares at you. But you’re not done with your fun, so you poke your finger to his waist, knowing that’s his weak spot, and tease him some more. “Seriously.” Jungkook huffs out and your laughter becomes louder because he looks like a grumpy child right now.
“Sorry.” you say, still giggling. He furrows his brows, and you can’t help it, you poke at his waist again. When you do it, though, Jungkook captures your wrist, effectively stopping another one of your juvenile assaults. Suddenly, you start noting the mirth in his eyes.
You’ve seen that look before and it always ends up with you almost dying from too much laughter because he always—
“You’re gonna regret that.”
You let out a squeal as Jungkook takes ahold of your waist, and before you can even voice out a protest, he easily hoists you up against his body, bouncing you up until you're hanging around his shoulder like a sack bag.
“What the hell, put me down, you prick!” You complain, slapping the rugged muscles on his back. But Jungkook just responds with a series of clicks of his tongue, carrying you across the living room.
You know he’s about to put you on the couch to tickle you to death, so you do what you could and bite down on the skin of his back.
“Ouch!” Jungkook immediately reacts, stumbling a little in his stride. You snort at that, but you immediately frown when you feel a slap to your ass.
“You asshole!”
“You just lowered your chances of being spared,” Was his last words before you feel yourself getting put down on the surface of the sofa. Soon after, Jungkook’s poking his fingers to your waist and stomach, prompting you to erupt in fits of giggles and laughter, thrashing beneath him like a caged animal.
“Pl—stop—oh my god!” You say, weakly reaching for his arms. When Jungkook doesn’t relent, you continue wriggling under him, laughing and choking, saying a variety of, “Stop! I’m —” giggle, “gonna—” then another snort, “—die!”
Jungkook chuckles. He torments you some more before finally stopping his fingers in their ministrations.
“You deserve that.” Jungkook says when you both came down from the high, laughing at the messy state of your hair and the way you try to catch your breath like you just ran a triathlon.
You breathe in and out deeply, clutching your stomach that still hurts from laughing.
“Fuck you.” You hiss, giving him the finger.
Jungkook bursts into laughter, and from his position in between your legs, he lets himself fall on top of you.
“Jungkook, no!” Pushing him off you, you try to get away from him but the goof just forces himself beside you instead, sticking his much bigger build in between you and the back of the couch. It makes you scoot near the edge as a result, and you hold onto his arm so that you don’t fall off, tangling your leg against his own for added support. Pinching his waist in which he lets out an ingenuine “Owe!” to, you face him as you say, “You are so annoying.”
Jungkook just gives you a shit-eating grin. “Who started it?”
“You almost killed me.” You say dryly.
“Don’t be dramatic.” He rolls his eyes.
Suddenly, you realize the position you are both in.
Your bare legs are intermingled against each other, Jungkook has one arm wrapped around your waist, and from the lack of clothes on both sides, you can feel pretty much everything.
There’s a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach upon the epiphany.
Jungkook’s looking at you with a playful grin, but as he notices you staring at him, he stills. From such close proximity, you can almost trace out the lines of his features. The scar on his cheek, the mole under his lip, and the pimple scar that was probably from a week ago. At that thought, you think about: if you can see him so close like this, he can also probably see you, and that’s when you break away from the contact.
“Shit.” You hiss as you let yourself fall off the floor by rolling around, away from his hold and touch and him in general.
Jungkook immediately scoots to the edge of the sofa to look down at you with confused eyes. “The hell?”
“Don’t worry,” you wave your hand at him.
He snorts. “Did you just fall?”
You roll your eyes. Of course, he’d think that. But you let him, standing up from the floor.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”
You hear Jungkook’s boisterous laughter as you walk towards the kitchen again, stopping in front of the fridge to get some water.
“You’re going to bed now?” Asks Jungkook, following you to the fridge and mirroring your activity.
Nodding at his question, you peer from the rim of the glass as you answer, “Yeah, I don’t want to be sleeping at the hospital later.”
“Fair.”
Soon after, you both decided to clean up a bit in the kitchen and when you finished, you two headed towards the direction of your bedrooms. It’s located just near the kitchen, with the doors located beside each other.
When you turn the knob open to your own door, Jungkook calls you, catching your attention.
You arch a brow at him, waiting.
“Good night,” Jungkook says. You drop your kitted brows and smile. You’re about to greet him the same but then he adds, “Also– that was a really great cheer.”
“Ugh, Jungkook!”
Tumblr media
You look across the bed to see Mingyu still on his laptop on his worktable, working on something. An hour and thirty minutes have passed since you arrived at his place, but you’re still not getting the least bit of attention from him.
You get it, it’s work, but he asked you to come over… isn’t it only fair to expect a little bit of something?
Getting up from the bed, you trudge over to his direction.
“Hi,” you say, ducking down to wrap your arms around his neck from the back of his swivel chair and kissing the spot below his ear.
“Hi,” Mingyu meets the kiss you give him on the lips. He reaches for your hands resting on top of chest and holds it there, looking at you. You delight at the hint of attention. “I’ll just be in a few minutes. You’re staying, right?”
You grin. “Of course.”
“Good.”
Rolling your eyes, you take your hands off him and stand upright once again. Mingyu rotates his chair so he can look at you with his undivided attention, voicing out a low whistle when he takes in your outfit – or lack of it thereof.
You arch a brow, knowing well he’s ogling you only in your bra and panties, squinting your eyes at him. Slowly, you glide your leg over his waist and plop yourself down on his lap, waiting for any protest from him. It doesn’t come, and so you give him a grin before planting your lips against his.
The kiss turns heated in a matter of seconds, with Mingyu squeezing over your bra and taking in your soft moans against his mouth, feeling the delicious roll of your hips against his crotch where you feel a semi growing already.  
“Sweetheart,” Mingyu grunts. When you don’t answer that, he cups your jaw, making you look at him. “__.”
“What?” You say, more like a whine, looking at him with hooded eyes. You’re starting to feel sticky in your underwear and you need him to do something about it.
“Not now, sweetheart. I told you, I’m working.”
You frown. There’s a beat of silence before you let out a sigh. “Okay.” You say, getting off his lap.
“I’ll take care of you when I’m done.” He promises, taking ahold of your wrist, looking up at you.
Pursing your lips, you look away. “It’s fine.” When Mingyu lets go, you look at the direction of the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower,” you tell him. “You’re free to join me if you want or whatever.”
You know he can’t and that he won’t.
“Alright.” Was the last thing you heard before you walked towards the bathroom door.
You’ve been over at his place too many times to count now, and you’re slowly building your shower essentials in his own bathroom. Your body wash, your face cream, your shampoo, your conditioner – even your moisturizer and your eye mask are already placed inside his bathroom cabinet.
As you step out of the shower box, all clean and fresh, you go over to the lavatory to brush your teeth. At the sight of both your cups sitting beside each other, you smile.
You look in the mirror – noting the way your lips can’t stop from curling up at the thoughts running inside your head.
Shaking them off, you grab Mingyu’s robe and put it over yourself, turning the knob around to step out of the bathroom.
You see Mingyu on his bed this time around, but his laptop’s still perched on his lap.
He looks up when he sees you. “Ready to sleep?”
You nod, feeling at home the way you automatically go towards his closet to pick out a shirt and some panties you left over the time.
As you’re in the process of dressing yourself, a phone’s ding rings in the room.
Looking at Mingyu, you watch as he checks his phone, assuming it came from him. When he puts it down, he looks at your plugged phone on the bedside table.
“What is it?” You ask, now properly dressed, walking to the bed.
You note the way Mingyu’s gaze changes as he hands you your phone.
“It’s Jungkook.” He says with a weirdly clipped tone. Then another ding comes. A beat, and then your phone rings.
Your brow shoots up, taking the device from him and checking it yourself.
Jungkook’s face is plastered over your screen – a picture of him wasted in his room two years ago, taken from your Thailand trip with the rest of your friends. He’s sleeping with his mouth open, shirtless in the middle of the hut, only covered up with his trunks. You remember setting it as his contact photo because it was funny back then. Jungkook hates the photo, and your friends always made fun of him for it.
Right now, though, it doesn’t feel the least bit funny. Not when Mingyu’s certainly saw it. Not when he looks a little put off as soon as he sees a glimpse of it when he was passing your phone to you.
“I’ll just answer this.” You say, standing from the bed again.
You don’t expect Mingyu to suddenly shoot you a question, “You can’t answer here?”
Brows knitting together, you give him an uncertain look. “It’s just Jungkook.”
“Yeah… so, why not here?”
You relent, seeing the point he’s trying to make. Plopping yourself on the bed again, you answer Jungkook’s call and put the phone over your ear.
“Jungkook,”
“__,” he sighs out your name, sounding relieved. “Thank fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” You ask, growing a bit concerned at his tone.
You can hear some shuffling from the other line as Jungkook tells you, “Did you see me with my pager in the locker room earlier?”
“Oh, uh… let me think…” you trail off, trying to remember the events earlier. As you do that, you notice Mingyu’s fingers trailing his hands to your bare legs, but you ignore it as you answer Jungkook, “I think I didn’t, yeah. I didn’t.” Jungkook hisses. “Did you check your car?” you ask, trying to help out.
“Already did. It’s not in there, either. I really think I accidentally threw it out in the bin along with some trash in my pockets.” He says, sounding a little distressed now.
“Well… you can always just go to the operator, you know? Get a new pager?” you offer. There’s a drop of kiss on your shoulder that makes you shudder, and you look at Mingyu with furrowed brows. He doesn’t say anything, though, just let his fingers trail upwards, his hand sliding under your shirt, gripping your thigh. Your boyfriend just gives you a sly smile, and you squint your eyes at him, confused at what he’s playing at. 
“I know. But, ugh, you know I lost two pagers already this year. Sungkyun hates me at this point—”
Jungkook’s answer suddenly drowns out when Mingyu grazes his thumb on your clothed clit.
“Oh.”
“—what?” Jungkook halts, asking about your abrupt reaction.
You bite your lip in an effort to shut yourself up, and when Mingyu’s hand makes another move again, your free hand shoots up to stop him.
“Hold on a second, Jungkook,” you say, quickly pressing mute.
Mingyu looks at you with a smirk, playful smile painting his face. “You know you can continue, right?”
At that, your brows furrow even further.
“What are you doing?” You didn’t mean to sound curt but with the way Mingyu’s expression changes, it may have sounded that way.
You… couldn’t help it.
“I wanted to touch you,” Mingyu tells you after a beat of awkward silence. Then, his hand retreats to himself. “Do you not want to?”
There’s guilt that springs up inside you when you see the look on his face as he says those words.
“No, I’m sorry— it’s just… I want to. I just… not with somebody on the phone?” You put it out like a question, unsure of yourself.
The room is quiet for awhile and suddenly there’s a thick tension that hangs in the air.
You reach out for Mingyu but then drop your hand to your sides when he moves to sit on the edge of the bed.
He turns his head to you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Is it because it’s Jungkook?”
You frown at his tone.
It sounded accusatory.
“Excuse me?” You say, taking immediate offense. When Mingyu shrugs, you feel a bit of annoyance bubble up inside you. “I would’ve still stopped you if it was anybody else on the phone, Mingyu.” you say, tone firm and leveled.
“I’m sorry, then.”
But he definitely doesn’t sound like it. His sarcasm makes you snap. “What’s up with you?”
Mingyu opens his mouth to say something but then he closes it again. You watch him with confused eyes, completely at loss of context where he’s at. The night was going fine as usual and suddenly, there’s this.
After a few seconds, Mingyu sighs. “What are you even talking about right now?” He glances at your phone.
“It’s—” you take a glance at it too. “It’s just his pager.”
“Pager?”
“Yes.”
“He asks you about his pager in the middle of the night, knowing full well you’re with me?”
“I—” you stop yourself, words suddenly getting lost in your tongue. Not because you don’t know the answer to his question, but because you hate the way he phrased it – and honestly, you’re starting to feel icky about how he’s going with it. What was he trying to do? Pin you down with accusatory notions?
You don’t fucking get it. Jungkook’s his friend. It’s so bizarre to even think about how Mingyu is seemingly acting jealous over his supposed friend.
“You know what?” You say instead, not wanting to discuss it further with him anymore. It’s just gonna lead to an unnecessary fight – and frankly, you don’t want to deal with his jealousy. It seems so… futile. “Can we just sleep this whole thing off?”
Mingyu looks at you and for the first time, his eyes don’t look gentle. He looks at you with a bit of a frown, and you get it. You do. You’re not exactly happy, either. Not right now, with the way he’s acting.
“Do you want me to go?” You ask, ready to step out of bed.
“I didn’t tell you to.” Mingyu says, voice equally strained.
You sigh. “What do you want me to do, Mingyu? Are you jealous, is that it?” You meant it to be completely rhetorical, not at all expecting him to say anything.
But he answers instantly. “What if I say I am?”
Your lips part. You’re surprised at the confirmation, but you shake your thoughts off it.
“Then it’s completely unnecessary,” you tell him, as genuine as you can sound. When Mingyu doesn’t move in his position on the edge of the bed, you crawl towards him. Testing the waters, you touch his arm to see if he would avoid your touch, but when you do rest your hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t stray. “I like you, Gyu.”
Cocking your head to the side, you watch as his face still sports a cold expression. But he says, “I like you too, you know that,”
“But…?” you try to get out the words from him, because you knew there’s more.
“I don’t want you to think I’m being irrational about this whole thing,” he starts, and you nod your head, trying to show him that you get it. Mingyu licks his lips before he continues, “I just… I guess I just want you to put boundaries around your friendship with Jeon.”
That makes you stop. Nevermind the strange way he called Jungkook by his surname.
“How do you mean by that?” You ask with furrowed brows.
“You’re just really close with him. And you live in one apartment together.” He points out.
“Mingyu…” you say, suddenly feeling tired all over again. “I thought we already talked about that.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m a hundred percent comfortable with it, you know?”
It feels like you got electrocuted by his words the way you quickly retreat your hands. “That’s…” you trail off, not really knowing what to say.
Thankfully, though, Mingyu interjects before you can slip into a dilemma.
“I know, I know about why you’re living with him and all that stuff. We talked about it. It’s just…” he reaches for your hand. Entangling your fingers together, Mingyu brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss there. “I want you all the time. And I guess I really am just jealous – even though it’s juvenile. I’m jealous that he’s known you far longer than me.”
“But— I’m here thrice a week. I make time for the both of us. And it doesn’t really matter how long you’ve known me for, Gyu,” you respond truthfully.
He nods.
“I’m sorry.”
You shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I just— I got in way over my head that I also forgot to take your feelings into account,”
Mingyu smiles, and there goes his soft gentle expression again.
“I know. It’s fine. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s me who’s being unreasonable.”
“No, it’s not unreasonable,” you tell him. “I get it. Boundaries, Mingyu. I know what you’re talking about.”
Mingyu scooches closer and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You gladly bask in it, smiling against his lips, keeping your gentle gaze towards him as he breaks away.
“I’m sorry for being a bummer.”
You kiss him again and the way he inserts his tongue in your mouth distracts you a bit but you manage to break the contact. Soon, he’s lying down beside you and when you check your phone, your call with Jungkook has already ended, but there are two messages from him on your notifications.
[12:35am] jaykay🤠: are you still alive [12:38am] jaykay🤠: ok nevermind i’ll hang the call i actually found my pager just now 😭 [12:38am] jaykay🤠: it was in the kitchen counter LOL [12:45am] jaykay🤠: ok bye. night
You were going to reply but decide against it for some reason.
Putting your phone down to the bedside table, you follow Mingyu under the sheets and as usual, you face against his direction just like he does.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t really like cuddling that much. He’d share his space to a certain extent, just like how you got into his bed in the first place, but not the lengths of cuddling together in bed. Mingyu didn’t tell you why – and you don’t want to come off as clingy, so you don’t bother asking.
It’s strange, though. Now that he told you a while ago that he, apparently, “wants you all the time”. Shouldn’t he like to cuddle you in bed, then? But you don’t want to dwell in it too much, afraid that you may be digging yourself a hole if you were to keep it up.
As you lay your cheek on your folded hands, you play back the events of the night and think about how you’ve seen this film before.
When you were in med school, Eunwoo always had something to say about your friendship with Jungkook. He wasn’t direct with it, but with the way he never bothered to make friends with Jungkook or always had a grimace on his face when you mentioned him in passing, it was enough for you to conclude that Eunwoo was always… wary of Jungkook – and definitely in a jealous type of way.
He said almost the exact same thing as Mingyu – that boundaries should be built; that Jungkook and you are too close, why is he calling you in the middle of the night to ask about mundane things, why does he know too much about your mother’s preferences, and why is he buddy-buddy with your dad who otherwise always had an uninterested expression on his face?
It wasn’t even just Mingyu. Your past flings for the past four years you’ve been single always got put off when they heard that you’re rooming with a guy – even more so when you mention that he’s your bestfriend.
You’re not stupid to not see how it looks like from the outside perspective – and you’re not dense to not ever consider the possibility of something romantic brewing within the friendship. You have thought about it before – had an instant crush on him the first time you met at the law library back in post grad school. But it was fleeting at best, especially when Eunwoo came into your life a few weeks later.
Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung have also hinted at it. Sometimes – most of the time, really, teasing you two, especially Taehyung. Even the most mature one among your friends – Yoongi – once told you both to get married at forty. He was joking, though he looked way too serious for someone who was just supposed to be joking.
And there was that one dreadful time in third year of med school when Jungkook almost kissed you.
You buried that memory in the very depths of your mind – not ever wanting to revisit it again. It was a bad time, and it was just not a good thing to look back at. Jungkook acted irresponsible, and you stupidly let yourself be complicit in it, even though you knew better.
Nothing even happened – but that memory was just that. A mere memory. You doubt Jungkook even remembers that himself.
Here’s the thing: you’ve just never seen Jungkook past the person you consider as a friend. You’ve never been weird about the women he dated – or if he dated, at all. He’s also always been supportive of your relationships… as far as you’re concerned. Regardless of what everybody says, you both seem to agree that you’re just better off as friends. You work better that way.
Jungkook’s a good guy, though. He does have tons of flings – but he’s just conventionally attractive and works hard for a body that is to die for. Women like that. Additionally, he has a stable job and even though he annoys you about splitting the delivery fee when you do take-out, he’s actually quite rich – or, his family is – he’d always insist.
You get it though. As a co-resident, you both don’t really make that much (for the work that you do) – at least not yet.
But he was indeed born in generational wealth, coming from a family of doctors, which is why it’s quite impressive that he knows how to handle his life by his own hard work. His intelligence and perseverance are some of the things you admire about him, his drive to make a name for himself and never leeching off his family’s name. Jungkook doesn’t ever brag about how his neurosurgeon dad is one of the best in the country and how his mom is a legend in cardiac surgery – even though sometimes, he could use it a little. He’s playful yet charming; quiet when you’re just knowing him, but he’ll eventually talk a lot when you get close.
As a friend, he’s quite the best you’ve ever had.
And even though you don’t really see him past that, you know in your heart that whoever ends up with him romantically will be a very lucky person.
Tumblr media
“You’re a pussy.”
“Doyeon.”
Doyeon huffs, rolling her eyes so hard at Taehyung’s reprimand and then goes back to glaring at Jungkook again who just looks at her with a pathetic expression.
“What? I’m right. He’s a pussy and you’re an even bigger pussy for defending him being a pussy.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows angrily.
“Why are we talking about pussies?”
Nayeon suddenly enters the on-call room and Jungkook nearly has a heart attack.
“What the hell, you should at least knock. Jesus.” Jungkook says, clutching his chest, looking at Nayeon with an almost offended expression who closes the door behind her.
“Were you scared it was __? See!” Doyeon sighs out in frustration. “Such a fucking pussy.”
“Such a fucking pussy,” Jungkook mocks, using a higher pitch to imitate Doyeon poorly.
“And a child too.” She rolls her eyes and throws him a pillow. It misses Jungkook and hits Taehyung instead.
“Seriously, what are you so mad about today? You have that mood. Did you and your secret boyfriend fight?” Taehyung spits out.
Everybody stills in the room when Doyeon gives him a sharp glare. That pretty much makes everyone shut up, especially Taehyung who makes a show of physically zipping his mouth.
Nayeon fakes a cough and trudges towards Jungkook sitting on one of the beds. She throws her heavy hands on his shoulders, more like slaps, and then looks at Doyeon as she asks, “What are we calling this man a pussy for?”
“Oh, ask him. Or his dumber best friend.” Doyeon rolls his eyes and looks at Taehyung, crossing her arms and leaning her back on the chair she’s sitting on from across the room.
“You’re starting to hurt my feelings and I hate you.” Taehyung says from the other bed.
“Why?” Nayeon ignores their banter and furrows her brows at Jungkook curiously.
Jungkook hisses under his breath. “It’s nothing. She calls me a pussy for literally everything.”
Doyeon butts in. “Yeah, are you gonna cry?”
“If __ was here, she’s gonna be on my side, you know that?” Jungkook rebuts.
“If __ was here, you’d be panicking because she’ll know about your little secret.”
“Oof.” Taehyung comments.
“Oh, Jungkookie…” Nayeon looks down at him with worried eyes. When he looks up with a sad look, she starts rubbing his shoulders as some sort of comfort, already knowing about what this might be about. “This is about… the thing?”
He nods weakly. “Yes. And no. Uh, well, this is… you know about the birthday trip in the next five days, right? So, she asked me if she could bring, uh, Mingyu along.”
“Oh.” Nayeon utters, looking at Doyeon for confirmation.
Doyeon nods, and then nags, “Ask him what he said.”
Nayeon looks at him. “What did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“Oh.”
Jungkook looks down in slight shame at Nayeon’s reaction. She completely stops her hands’ ministrations on his shoulder, indicating that even she could not believe what he just did.
This makes Jungkook even feel worse.
Leaning his elbow on his thighs, he runs his fingers through his hair as he says, “I mean, how could I have said no? I would’ve looked like an asshole. Besides, Mingyu and I are college friends. There’s no reason for me to prohibit him from this trip. Like, at all.”
“Yeah, you and Mingyu are college friends but, ultimately, it’s our trip, right? __ would’ve understood if you said no.” Doyeon says, still not over her justification from a while ago.
“I know, I know. But still… I didn’t want to say no to her.” Jungkook tells Doyeon, not having a lot to say more than that.
It’s the plain truth, anyway. He truly, simply does not want to say no to you. Not ever.
“But Jungkook…” Nayeon interrupts. “Would it be okay for you? We know how you feel about the whole – er – Mingyu thing. Can you really take them being close together? Especially on a trip for your birthday?”
Though Nayeon’s voice is soft and her gaze gentle, her words hit him like a ton of bricks.
Truthfully, he doesn’t know what to feel about the whole thing. You dating Mingyu is one thing, but you bringing him along on your trips is another. It means that he’s it.
That you’re getting serious.
He hates himself for hating the idea. Jungkook’s always wanted to be nothing but supportive of you. He’d done it perfectly well with Eunwoo before, and your flings in the past four years have never upgraded past to being solely flings so he never worried about them, but now with Mingyu… it’s hard to pretend like it’s not killing him when you talk about how much you like him.
You have that lovestruck look on your face when Mingyu comes up in a conversation. For the first time in a while, you look genuinely happy. Jungkook always thought that your feelings for Eunwoo still lingered over the past few years – and how could it not, when you were literally engaged to him for a year? You told him one time that he may have been your greatest love… and he fears that it might be the same with Mingyu.
Where does that exactly leave him?
“What I think doesn’t really matter. And it’s just for week.” he murmurs, but the others hear it anyway.
“An excruciating week, you mean.” Doyeon says. She stands up from her chair. “You know what, I’m over this whole thing. I’ve witnessed you pine over her for whole eight years – and I’m just – I’m moving on from this. And I have a surgery. I’m going out.”
Jungkook grimaces when Doyeon heads towards the door.
“Doyeon, don’t be mean to Jungkook. He’s trying his best, you know? The timing is just not right and—”
“What timing?”
As soon as Doyeon twisted the doorknob, pulling the door open to completely head out, you came barging in, cutting off Nayeon’s words.
Her eyes widen a little at your sudden arrival. And Jungkook scrambles to think of an effort to swerve the subject, but Taehyung beats him to it.
“__, heyyy,” he prolongs the word quite unnaturally, chuckling at the end of it for no reason. Jungkook internally notes to tell him later never dare try to save anything ever again.
That makes you furrow your brows in confusion. Directing your look to Doyeon who stopped on her tracks, you ask her instead, “What’s going on? What about Jungkook trying his best?”
Doyeon looks at Jungkook and then you. You wait, but then she just rolls her eyes – just completely done about the whole thing. Like she said earlier.
“He’s trying his best not to be a pussy – well, allegedly.” At that, she goes out of the room, ignoring your calls to pull her back in.
“Uh… I think I have a surgery in twenty. See you guys around. Gotta scrub in.” Taehyung jumps from the other bed and Jungkook makes sure to extend his leg forward so that the older guy trips on it as he walks. “What the fuck, man.” Taehyung looks at him, offense written all over his face.
Jungkook gives him a glare. Taehyung chooses to ignore it rather than prolong it and walks past you at the door.
“Bye, fuckers.”
“Don’t call me a fucker!” Nayeon chimes in but Taehyung’s already out of the room.
“Hey, seriously! What was that?” You head towards the bed where Jungkook and Nayeon are, situating yourself on the far end of the bed to lean on the frame. You take off your sneakers in one swift move and lay your feet on Jungkook’s lap.
“It’s nothing. You know how Doyeon always bullies me…” Jungkook says, ignoring the tingling sensation that starts to creep up his spine at the way you casually initiate physical contact.
He needs to get a grip. You most probably don’t really mean anything by it.
“She does not bully you.” Nayeon rolls her eyes beside him.
“You probably deserve it.” you say, pulling out and eating some strawberry yogurt.
Nayeon laughs at your remark, but then it’s cut short when a pager suddenly beeps. Instantly, all of you take out your own and check if it was yours.
“Alright, that’s my call.”
“Bye. Good luck.” You say, offering your cup to Nayeon, but she only shakes her head. Meanwhile, Jungkook gives her a pair of thumbs up.
When Nayeon leaves the room, you nudge Jungkook with your foot.
“Hey,”
Jungkook looks at you with a brow raised.
“Can you rub my foot? Please rub my foot.” You say, making the best rendition of puppy face, extending your sock-cladded foot in his direction.
He scoffs. “Do you think I’m a pushover?”
You gasp dramatically. “I do not! I think you’re a cool person who’d totally give me foot rubs.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not a cool person who would give you foot rubs.”
You groan. “I gave you a massage weeks ago.”
“That was, like, two months ago.” Jungkook says drily.
“It counts because you didn’t do anything to repay me for my kindness.”
“Oh, you need your kindness paid back?” Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
You pout at him and then whine. “Please, just three minutes, I swear. I’ll even put up a timer.”
Indeed, Jungkook is a pushover. Pushover to your cute pout and every request. Again, he could just not find it in himself to say no to you. Not even in his wildest dreams.
But it’s never not fun to tease you before he relents. “Fine. Two minutes.” He says, pretending to begrudge the thought of giving you a foot massage, even though inside, he’s quite thrilled to be doing so.
It would be a lie to say that it isn’t one of his favorite past times in the quiet evenings of your apartment. Jungkook loves the weight of your leg on his lap, loves the way you thank him in between groans, and loves that he just gets to be close to you in almost such an intimate way.
“Your feet stink.” Jungkook decides to tease, scrunching his nose, feigning disgust.
“Don’t lie. Also, your feet stink even more, don’t try me.”
“My feet do not stink.”
“Let’s just agree to disagree,” You grin. “I’m starting a timer.” You say, grabbing your phone, pressing some stuff on it before you put it on the mattress.
“Let me see, for all I know, you set it to five instead of three.”
You look at him with widen eyes, stiffening.
“It’s three minutes.”
“Your nostrils are flaring, you’re lying.”
You groan. “Please. Dinner is on me later.”
That obviously catches Jungkook’s attention.
“You’re staying at home for the night?”
You look at him weird. “Yeah, of course. What’s with that face?”
Jungkook shakes his head, hides a small smile as he looks down to your feet on his lap and takes a hold of one. He takes off your sock for you and begins massaging the tendons of your foot, noting the way you immediately lean back and relax.
“Nothing. I just thought you’d be staying at Mingyu’s again.”
“Ah,” you nod your head. When Mingyu's name is mentioned, you visibly frown. It’s the kind of face that you make when you’re deep in thought. “I was supposed to. But I don’t know… we fought this morning.”
Jungkook raises a brow. “You wanna talk about it?”
You shrug. “Not really. It’s a weird argument. I don’t know.”
He wants so badly to poke around and find out… but somehow, there’s something in him that tells him not to bother.
Anyway, you’re going home tonight so that’s all that matters. Jungkook begins to think about what to eat for dinner… he’d love to cook something, nevermind that he’s tired from his overnight shift yesterday. He also only got around four total hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, and that was not even consecutive hours – just the sum. That is why he was in the on-call rooms, until Taehyung suddenly barged in, followed by Doyeon, Nayeon, and then you.
“Oh– there, that’s so good, Jungkook,” you say after a particularly hard press against the ball of your heel.
Jungkook knows better than to let his mind wander upon hearing that from you. He’s massaging you, of course that was gonna be the natural reaction.
It’s also quite pathetic to be even thinking about it in the first place – considering that your mind might most likely be weighed by yours and Mingyu’s argument – your boyfriend.
“Hey, about what I said a few days ago,” you started to speak again, breaking the momentary silence. Jungkook hums to acknowledge you. “I know you said yes to me bringing Mingyu along, but, uh, I’m not sure if he still plans to.”
“Ah,” Jungkook nods. Was the argument that bad? “Okay.”
“Yeah. He has to fly over to Arizona for something that week. Told me he may be able to arrive and join us on the second day, which is the exact date of your birthday, but honestly, I’m not sure. His sched changes a lot.”
Deep down, Jungkook wishes Mingyu just opts out of joining in altogether.
But he doesn’t have to tell you that.
“That’s a shame.” he comments, not really meaning it. He massages your other foot with ginger hands, which has you letting out soft sighs again. Jungkook buries them in the back of his head, lest his mind goes to territories that are absolutely humiliating.
“I know…” you trail off. You look like you have more to say as well, but then the door to the room opens. Again.
“Forgot my pager.” Doyeon announces, crossing the room with quick steps to reach for the forgotten thing she left on the table.
When Doyeon’s gaze falls back to the both of you, she raises a brow, and then her eyes direct their way towards Jungkook’s hands on your foot.
You’re about to say something when Doyeon rolls his eyes at Jungkook. Then, without giving you the opportunity to speak, she heads out of the room quickly, leaving Jungkook to look in another direction in quiet shame.
“What was that?” You comment, confused at what just happened.
“Eh, she’s in a sour mood today. It’s regular Doyeon.” Shrugs Jungkook, trying to swerve the subject.
You pout. “Are you two fighting again for real?”
Jungkook chuckles. “No, it’s not serious. You know how Doyeon and I get.”
You squint your eyes, but say nothing nonetheless.
Meanwhile, Jungkook hisses internally.
Jungkook gets Doyeon. You all have been friends since freshman year of med school – the founder of your study group – and she was also the first one to find out about Jungkook’s little crush. He didn’t even have to say it explicitly, she just knew. Eventually, Jungkook told Taehyung. He has quite a big mouth, unfortunately, so when you started your internship at the hospital – he lets it slip in a conversation with Nayeon who was just becoming your friend that time – leading the situation to where it is right now.
Out of all of them, though, Doyeon got it pretty hard. She’s witnessed the early stages of Jungkook’s infatuation towards you in the first semester of med school, had to keep quiet during study sessions. She was even supportive that time, telling Jungkook to just go for it – but then Eunwoo happened, and the confession never saw the light of day.
When they broke up, Doyeon became hopeful again, just as Jungkook was. But you were showing no signs of moving on and Jungkook had no choice but to step back for a bit.
The past two years, though, Doyeon became more insistent, telling him you’re single and it’s the fattest chance Jungkook can ever get.
But she’s right, after all. Jungkook’s a pussy. He hides his feelings well – a pro at the sport, really, at this point.
When Mingyu happened a few months ago, Doyeon’s just over it. She told Jungkook one time in a drinking session that the ship has sunk and he’s going to be in his sixties regretting not ever confessing to you. Sometimes, he wakes up at night in sweat from a nightmare that involved Doyeon murdering him because of his emotional constipation.
Jungkook knows she just wants the best for him – even though she’s more on showing him tough love instead of a gentle one. Doyeon’s always been like that, but she’s a good friend. When things went haywire, she was there to genuinely sympathize with him and console him – together with Taehyung and some of his other friends.
But in Jungkook’s defense, Doyeon just also doesn’t get it.
It’s so easy to just say fuck it and make a confession already, so easy to think about how things could turn positively – but she’s not – they’re not – in Jungkook’s shoes. They will never be.
So many things could go wrong if he ever were to listen to his heart. Sure, he’s had the chance over the past four years – most would say that. But it’s not a chance when you’ve spent half of it moving on from Eunwoo. It’s not a chance when you spent the other half trying to go on dates and fail – each one making you more miserable about your love life, as you told him so many nights ago in those rare special moments in the balcony of your apartment.
Those four years you were single was never a chance – not when you never showed any bit of interest.
It’s the reality that his friends always somehow miss when encouraging him to confess his feelings.
You’re friends for almost a decade now – eight years to be exact – but not once did you ever hint at wanting to be in a relationship with him. Your reaction to that always involved a disgusted expression and a variation of “No way!”. Might be a joke just to tease him – but also might be rooted in something genuine deep down.
Jungkook likes to think that physically, he doesn’t look so bad. He’s nice when he wants to be, especially towards people he cares about. He’s a resident surgeon who makes enough. Could be funny, charming… whatever.
Most of all, he likes to think he could deserve you one of these days. That he could be the man that you’re searching for.
But it’s been eight years and you’ve never once looked at him like how he surely does at you.
God knows how many times Jungkook has tried to move on – how many sleepless nights he has trying to erase the feeling of so much longing for you. Sometimes, it works, when he’s on his casual dates and hook-up with all those women that thankfully fancied him enough. He momentarily forgets about your laugh and your hair and the crinkles on the sides of your eyes when you smile and your soft hands and your gentle voice – but it cracks when the sex is done and he’s staring at the blank ceiling of his date’s apartment, hating himself for yet again seeing your picture in his memory when he’s buried in somebody else, wishing it was you instead.
It hurts so badly. Especially when you seem to look at everybody else except him. You wanted to weed out someone for you – meanwhile, he’s just right under your nose, and yet you don’t see him. It’s at this point, when you have Mingyu as your boyfriend now, that Jungkook is starting to realize that you don’t see him not because you can’t, but because you choose not to.
Regardless, he knows you love him. Knows you care about him on a deeper level. Would probably sacrifice a bit of your time to tend to him if he needs it. But it’s the kind of love that’s not comparable to the one he has for you. Jungkook’s feelings encompass every single kind of love a human could have for another being – but you only have one kind for him. The platonic kind.
And even though it’s painful to face the reality of that very idea, Jungkook thinks that maybe… just maybe… Mingyu’s actually it.
Mingyu wasn’t exactly a saint the last time Jungkook saw him, but people change and the way you seem so genuinely happy these days tells Jungkook that maybe Mingyu’s another version of himself now – the better one who will never hurt you or make you cry.
Maybe this is what love’s all about. You’re content with seeing them happy, even if it’s not with you.
Jungkook thinks that as he steals a glance at you looking at your phone – most probably playing that landlord game on your phone you’ve been obsessed with the past few weeks – and you’re so beautiful like this. Even when you’re probably running on limited hours of sleep just like him.
Your hair is put up in that tulip hairclip you have a lot of, stray hairs framing some parts of your face. But he sees your features just fine – notes the way they are structured so perfectly it truly awes him that men and women didn’t beg for your attention whenever you went out in public.
Because he would. He did. He does. He always teases you for the purpose of your reaction… because Jungkook likes it when you pay attention to him. So much that it kills him to think that maybe, that attention will die soon as you and Mingyu get closer as another week passes by.
The timer that goes off on your phone snaps Jungkook out of his thoughts, and you look at him with widened eyes.
“Don’t st–”
“It’s my turn now,” Jungkook cuts you off and gently places your legs on the mattress, bringing his own on the soft surface as well.
You jut your bottom lip out – and Jungkook feels himself wanting to give in.
“Five minutes is so quick.” You say, but nonetheless takes his shin to your lap.
Jungkook tries hard to sway the butterflies in his stomach at your touch.
“Favor for a favor, remember?” He teases, lifting one of his foot to your direction.
You pretend to gag. “I hate you.”
Jungkook laughs, quite boisterously. Because he knows you don’t mean it. I hate you basically just means I love you but you’re annoying me right now in your own little dictionary – and he always gets giddy whenever you tell him that – as weird as it may sound.
But Jungkook likes this, though.
Sure, it would be so fucking great if he could just confess and lay out his cards all at once, but the chances of you not taking it well is too big – and even though Jungkook’s usually a risk taker, he couldn’t ever risk you all over his dead body.
He can keep his hurt to himself over you feeling anything but romantic towards him – because if he confesses and you don’t feel the same way, he knows damn well that he’ll lose you completely.
And the thought makes him shudder.
That probably catches your sight, so you ask him about it.
Jungkook tells you it’s the AC.
Tumblr media
[ DAY 1 | August 31st, 11:04am ]
The beating sun feels uncomfortable on Jungkook’s skin, but there’s no way he’s wasting a day like this holed up in the villa he and his friends chipped in to rent. It costed you all a shit ton of money – might as well enjoy every waking day he gets to spend here.
It’s why he decides to goad Taehyung and Nayeon into coming with him along the shore where sun loungers are lined up to accommodate the few visitors who were also at the resort. He tried to convince Doyeon, but she goes straight to sleep as soon as the rooms were assigned.
He gets it – you all did travel by plane instead of car (because that would've taken you twelve hours) and Doyeon gets airsick whenever she rides in a plane. Jungkook also tried to talk you into it, but you said you were just going to lounge about by the pool at the villa and follow after a while.
Your “after awhile” takes about thirty minutes, and Jungkook thinks you’re missing all the fun, especially when Nayeon and Taehyung are starting to strip off their clothes to submerge themselves in the ocean.
With his loaded watergun, he goes straight back to the villa, and it doesn’t take much time to spot you by the terrace, lying down on a sun lounger with your big hat and sunglasses on, a book opened in your hands.
Unsuspecting, you let out a sudden squeal when Jungkook presses the trigger of the toy in his grip, a spring of water meeting your bare legs. Jungkook obviously tries hard to ignore that you’re wearing a flimsy pair of white bikinis. He saw you pack it two days ago… and he remembers taking too long to move on from the image he’s conjured up in his head upon seeing it.
“Jungkook!”
He chuckles at your reaction, poorly hiding the watergun behind him. “What?”
“I’ll kill you.” You seethe, your body coming forward to sit upright, hastily taking your sunnies off so he can see the cute glare on your face.
“What are you going to do? I have this,” He points to his weapon. “Are you challenging me into a hand-to-hand combat?” Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrow.
You groan. Then, you lay back on the lounger again, opening your book, deciding to ignore him.
Jungkook can’t have that, of course. So, he walks closer to your direction, stopping beside you, effectively blocking the sun and in turn, dimming the light source of your book.
“You’re blocking my sun.” You say, looking up at him.
“You’ll get all the sun you want if you haul your ass off to the shore. Come on, we’re all swimming in there,” he tries to convince you, nudging your thigh with his knee.
You give him a pout. You sound whiny when you say, “But it’s too hot.”
“That’s why we’ll get in the water.”
“Don’t be sassy.” You roll your eyes. “I meant the water would be way too hot.”
“It’s not, Nayeon said so.”
You glance at the pool across from you. “Why can’t we all just swim in here?”
Jungkook deadpans. “Because this is a five-foot pool and absolutely no one will enjoy it.”
You frown at him, quietly telling Jungkook he’s right.
“Ugh,” you groan. “But I’ll have to reapply SPF first…” You grab the bottle of lotion that’s just placed on the small table on the side of the lounger. Then you look at him with squinted eyes, “Did you wear sunscreen?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes but nonetheless says yes, knowing how you always nag him about it whenever you guys are at the beach. It’s not even just him. It’s also with your other friends.
He watches as you rub lotion over your body, but when you get to the back, you look up at him and extend the bottle towards his way.
“Can you help me with this, please?” You say.
Jungkook automatically takes the bottle but it takes him a full five seconds to understand what you’re getting at.
You’re asking him to put sunscreen on your back. You’re very naked back that sports nothing but the tiny strings of your bikini holding your chest.
Of course, you don’t notice his dilemma. Twisting in your seat so that your back faces him, you gather your hair to the side, obviously waiting for him to do your request.
But Jungkook’s distracted behind your back. He’s distracted at how smooth it looks under the scorching sun and how easy it would be to paint it with something other than the natural color of your skin.
It’s not even the first time he’ll do this – you’ve been to trips before and putting on sunscreen over your friend is about as natural as it gets like how he would do it as well to Taehyung or even Doyeon or Nayeon if they ask to.
But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect him one bit when it comes to you.
Needless to say, his mind is pre-occupied as he sits down behind you where you left some space for him to sit, squirting the lotion into the palms of his hands, gingerly spreading it over your back once he got it.
“Be sure to cover everything,” you say, obviously not aware about Jungkook’s mental crisis behind your back.
He thinks it’s worth the crisis over though, as you’re so soft under his touch. Jungkook kneads the span of your back, squeezes your waist lightly to even out the cream, and makes sure to put it over your shoulders as well. When his hands fall, he hesitates.
“Should I – uh—”
“Yeah, just go under the strings.” You tell him before he can even finish.
There’s a lump in his throat that he swallows before he goes under the strings of your bikini top, his heart doing funny somersaults against his ribcage as he spreads the lotion over your skin. It guilts him to no end that his mind thinks about how he’s just inches away from your breasts.
He retreats his hand right away. “Done.”
You turn back to him. “Thanks. You want me to do yours?”
“Sure.”
Jungkook sits on the edge of the lounger and lets his back turn to you. He hears the cap of the lotion bottle being opened again and soon your hands are lathering the cream over the expanse of his back.
It’s embarrassing the way he lets himself savor the seconds of your every touch. Embarrassing the way his mind zeroes in on the way your soft hands caress the tendons of his back muscles. He thinks about the weight, how good this feels; your hands on him. Suddenly, there’s a zap of electricity that goes through his spine, and then he feels it.
The twitch in his dick and the blood that he feels rushing to it.
“Okay, you’re done.” You say, tapping his back twice so he can turn to you.
It snaps him out of his thoughts, but his dick is thinking about something else and as he subtly looks down, there’s already a growing semi on the crotch of his trunk shorts.
Jungkook curses himself internally, shutting his eyes close in slight frustration.
Fucking uncooperative dick.
He stands up from the chair when you nudge his back with your foot, thinking that he’d see you coming along in a few seconds. But you don’t, and as he turns his heel to look at you, you’re back in your cozy lying position on the lounger, with your book opened, just like how he saw you when he came in a while ago.
Jungkook parts his lips in disbelief, but also finding the whole thing funny.
“You minx.” He muses, playfully squinting his eyes at you upon realizing the trick you just pulled.
“Enjoy the beach, Jungkook. Send my regards to Taehyung and Nayeon.” You say, giving him a taunting flying kiss. “And thank you for reapplying my sunscreen.”
Jungkook chuckles at your remark, and just like that, he forgets about his stubborn dick, and goes over back to you, blocking your sun once again.
“You’re blocking my sun again— Jungkook!”
It’s predictable the way you hurl a series of creative curses at him as Jungkook forcefully picks you up from the chair, knocking your hat and your book on the ground as he hoists you against his shoulder, carrying you upside down like a sack of potatoes.
“Jungkook, I swear to god!” You squeal, repeatedly slapping his back as he walks to the direction of the shore, but Jungkook’s nothing but a solid muscle, firm over his hold on the back of your legs.
“Be quiet.” He says, chuckling at your sounds of opposition.
“I hate you, you’re such a prick, ugh!”
He picks up his walking pace and you scream again when you see the ocean water from your view.
Jungkook chuckles as you continue to plant your fists on his back, and when the water reaches his knees, he throws you in it.
“Fuck. You!” You say, glaring at Jungkook in the middle of his uncontrollable laughter.
“Come on, Taehyung and Nayeon are over there,” he points to the deeper part of the ocean a few feet from where you are, and when you turn your head, you see Taehyung and Nayeon with their floaties.
“Ugh…” Jungkook hears you groan before you follow behind him. When Jungkook looks back, he sees you paddling around the water like some puppy, and he snickers to himself. That earns him a splash on his way, with you rolling your eyes at him.
“Jungkook! __!” Yells Nayeon over their direction, waving her hand around. Taehyung and her are perched on the big floatie they fought over with at the villa earlier.
“Jungkook,” calls you behind him.
You’re starting to cross the deeper part of the ocean and it’s within Jungkook’s chest now. Meanwhile, your friends are still about a few feet away, so the level would definitely be on his neck by the time. You’re considerably tall, but Jungkook’s still half a head taller than you, so when he looks back at you, the water’s already reached your shoulders.
“This is way too deep!” You complain.
“Don’t be a pussy, __!” Comments Taehyung from afar.
“Fuck off,” you murmur and then beckons Jungkook to you. “Help me a bit here.”
Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling as he moves a few steps back to get to your direction.
“You big baby, you never learned how to swim, have you?” He teases, playfully clicking his tongue.
“What for?” You say when he gets near.
Jungkook feels pleased with himself about you asking for his help to cross the deeper part of the ocean, but he’s met with surprise when you heavily plant your palms on his shoulders, causing him to be out of balance and tripping over his feet under the water.
It causes a misstep and he nearly chokes as he comes back up for air again only to see you laughing your ass off. Nayeon and Taehyung are also laughing along, even from afar, and Jungkook wipes the back of his hand over his eyes to see clearly.
“That’s for throwing me in the water earlier,” you say in between your snickers and Jungkook’s just about to say something back when you suddenly wrap your hands around his neck from the back, your legs locking around his waist. “Carry me to the floatie, pretty please,” you say against his cheek in a sing-song voice.
With that, Jungkook feels your whole entire body against his back, your breasts pressing against his skin. He ignores the way the physical contact makes his body tingle, and he hopes you don’t notice his blush when he raises his arms to hold the back of your legs.
“Only because you’re annoying.” He pretends to sound annoyed, but the laugh that comes out of you at the remark makes him smile anyway.
Tumblr media
[ DAY 1 | August 31st, 11:35pm ]
Your daytime activities at the beach included jetskiing – one that knocked Taehyung off the water way too many times that he just gave up halfway through it. When Doyeon woke up a little later in the afternoon, all of you decided to get food from the dining hall and ate your hearts out at the buffet.
The day ended with all of you back in your assigned rooms again. Since you rented a two-bedroom villa, Jungkook’s rooming with Taehyung in the secondary bedroom while Nayeon, Doyeon, and you are all inside the primary one since it’s bigger.
It’s past thirty minutes to eleven in the night when somebody knocks on Jungkook’s shared bedroom with Taehyung. When Jungkook looks at him from across the room, he’s knocked out on the sofa, soft snores coming out from his mouth. Him and Jungkook decided to take turns with the bed itself throughout the whole vacation. There’s an extra cushion Taehyung could’ve laid on the floor, but he was way too tired to set it up and to even care – looks like he doesn’t really need it, though, since he looks so peaceful in his position.
Grumbling, Jungkook gets out from the sheets, scratching his bare chest and rubbing the back of his head as he walks over to the door to open it.
When he does, he’s welcomed by the sight of you in your big grey hoodie and some shorts.
“Wear something.” You say as soon as you take in his appearance.
Jungkook’s habit of going to sleep with only his boxers knows no bounds. Even when it’s below 20 degrees Celsius outside, he always opts out of his pajamas, choosing to go bare in his sheets instead. In his defense for now, the duvet is thick and it provided him with enough protection against the cold of the AC and the summer night.
“What are you doing here?” He says as he trudges back inside the room to wear a pair of sweatpants hanging from the chair.
“Rude.” You comment, following him in the room. You look at Taehyung’s passed out state in the couch. “He’s going to wake up in the evening tomorrow and miss your birthday.”
That makes Jungkook smirk, remembering Taehyung’s high energy in the morning.
“No consequences. It’s vacation week.” Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Seriously, what brought you here? It’s almost midnight.”
You sit on the edge of the bed. That’s when Jungkook notices the black plastic you’re carrying in your hand. “It’s not that late. Let’s head out for a bit.”
He raises a brow, confused. “Where to?”
“You’re going to find out. Wear a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside.” You say as you stand up from the bed again, heading for the door.
Jungkook’s confusion just grows with passing seconds. Nonetheless, he can’t say he’s not intrigued.
Unsure, he goes for his small luggage and takes out the only hoodie he packed. It’s grey as well, matching the one you have on. Jungkook tries to shake that thought off his head as you both quietly head out of the room.
It’s late into the night and when you head out of the villa, there’s not many people hanging along the shore anymore.
“Follow me,” you tell him, and Jungkook does.
It may have been his drowsiness that kept him quiet throughout the whole walk – just quietly following along with you, your rented villa no longer in his line of sight. Jungkook couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you currently are, but this side of the beach is a bit rocky, and much, much colder. He feels it even through the thick material of his hoodie.
“We’re here.” You announce, a proud lilt to your voice. Jungkook bumps with your back when you suddenly stop on your tracks. It prompts a chuckle from you, turning back to him so Jungkook sees the crinkles on the sides of your eyes as you do so.
It makes his lips curl. “What’s this?” He curiously asks, looking around.
Your grin grows wider. “We’re gonna take those stairs and it’s gonna lead us to some pretty view.” Jungkook looks to the direction you pointed at, seeing the stairs you just referred to. Still unsure, he glances back at you. You laugh. “You remember when Doyeon and I went out for a walk earlier for a bit? We found this place.”
Jungkook nods. “I see. Thought for a second there you found a place to dispose my body at.”
You snort as you take Jungkook’s wrist to hold on to as you climb to the stairs.
“I won’t do it as such a public place.”
“So, you really are thinking about it in the first place.” Jungkook nods his head, guiding your back up the jagged stairs. You manage to get to the smoother surface and Jungkook’s quick to follow you towards the straight path of the narrow walkway.
“It’s my favorite past time, really.” You look back at him cheekily, a playful grin painting your lips. Jungkook scoffs.
The hallway is colonnaded with some flags, and there’s an edge where the concrete stops, the ocean water splashing against the big rocks beneath the broken bridge.
You set aside the black plastic you’ve been carrying around and Jungkook realizes they’re Smirnoffs. Sitting on the concrete, you let your feet hang on the edge.
“Hey, be careful,” Jungkook comments as he sees you do that. This part of the ocean isn’t necessarily far – where you were earlier when you were swimming was far deeper, but still, it could be dangerous if you make a mistake. Jungkook wonders what the designers of the beach thought about when they made this plan.
“Come on, don’t be fussy. Sit here with me.” You say, patting the space beside you.
Jungkook follows, of course, and you scoot to the side a little to give him more room.
“It’s nice, right,” You look at him, cocking your head to the side.
Jungkook feels the breeze of cool wind passing, and it’s a bit strong that it moves his fringes and yours as well. You put your hair up as usual in that big metal clip you always wear, but some strands of your hair escape and they frame your face.
With your big hoodie on and smile, Jungkook thinks you look extra cozy. He may have been hot and bothered by your bikini ensemble earlier, but now he’s bothered for another reason. He can’t stop thinking about cuddling you under the night sky full of stars at the very moment.
“Feels good.” Jungkook comments. He plants his palms on the hard surface of the concrete behind him, leaning back as he looks to your side. “You wanted to drink here?”
“Oh, yeah,” You say, twisting your body a little to pick up the plastic cellophane. You take out two bottles of Smirnoffs and offer one to him which he gladly takes. Taking a bottle opener out, you’re about to open your drinks when Jungkook offers to do it for the both of you. You don’t protest, just let him do his thing, smiling when he hands you your Smirnoff.
“This is really nice.” Jungkook sighs after he takes the first sip, looking straight ahead to the mountainous view in front of you.
You hum, seemingly enjoying the moment as well. Jungkook takes a quick glance at your side profile and then quickly looks back ahead when he feels you do the same.
“Why’d you bring me here?” He asks.
“Nothing. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I could bring you here. So.” You shrug.
Jungkook nods.
“I’m turning thirty-one tomorrow. Or, in an hour, actually.” He says, automatically looking at his wrist but then realizing he took off his watch and left it at the bedside table. He didn’t take his phone with him either.
“I know. You’re so old now.” You tell him with a teasing tone in your words.
“Fuck off,” he snorts. “I’m only a year older than you.”
“Hmm… still old. Imagine, you turn fifty, I would still be forty-nine.”
Jungkook laughs at that.
“Whatever makes you sleep at night, babe.” He lets the pet name slip, and he did not mean to. It just rolled off his tongue for some reason. Quite easily, too.
You don’t seem to care – or even notice – as you chuckle.
There’s a comfortable silence that hangs in the air again when Jungkook decides to break it.
“Hey, I really appreciate you for coming along. You and the gang, really. This is a really good trip so far.”
You give him a smile as you look at him. It’s one of those pretty ones that are a bit small but there’s a certain shine to your eyes and Jungkook just really loves looking at you with a smile on your face. You’re so pretty, he thinks he’s so lucky to even get the chance to look at you.
“You know we all need this trip, right? I think it’s all our first time vacationing in two years.”
He nods, chuckling to himself. It’s true. The last time was the Thailand trip and it felt like eons ago. Being a resident surgeon means less free time for leisure – and so you always make sure to spend your days off wisely. Even this trip took a lot of pre-planning to be possible just so all of your schedules would match.
“It’s crazy, though…” you say suddenly.
Jungkook cocks a brow at you. “What’s crazy?”
“That we’ve known each other for like – what? Eight years?”
Eight years and four months to be exact. Jungkook’s not keeping count – he just will never forget the exact moment he met you for the very first time.
It’s truly one of his core memories – knowing you. He remembers having to pass by the law library to meet Jimin – one of his closest friends who was studying law at the same grad school as him at the time. They were planning to eat out for lunch, but then he saw a woman at the individual study areas with a reading material that’s familiar with his. Netter’s Atlas of Human Anatomy. You wore that maroon hairclip you loved so much during first year (Jungkook remembers you losing it in the second semester and how he bought you another one in your birthday), and when you looked up from your book for awhile, taking a break from taking notes on your iPad, that was when Jungkook saw your face and he nearly falls over back then.
It’s common knowledge among your mutual friends and acquaintances that you’re pretty. It’s the first thing that Jungkook noticed about you, the reason why he harbored an instant crush. That pretty much turned into… well – something deeper as the years passed by and he got to know you more than just your beautiful physical appearance.
He found it strange at the time to find somebody who was obviously a med student studying at the law library, but he soon found out it was because you didn’t like studying at the med lib, said you felt too much pressure being among your fellow med students. Jungkook understood that in a spiritual level, and so when you became friends, you studied a lot at the law lib, until you met Doyeon and she formed a study group. It wasn’t long before Taehyung joined the equation.
Looking back at it, Jungkook thinks it’s surreal. How knowing you led to him knowing more people that would soon be important in his life up until the age of thirty-one.
“Almost a decade.” He says, can’t help but smile at the thought.
“Right? It feels so surreal sometimes that we all knew each other at, like, twenty-three and twenty two. And now we’re in our thirties.”
“When you put it like that…” Jungkook trails off, laughing at how young you actually were eight years ago.
“Yeah, I know!” You giggle. You look ahead, then you laugh again to yourself. Jungkook looks at you in confusion, giving you a questioning look at your sudden burst of laughter. Looking at him, you shake your head, “This is a bit of a TMI, but I was twenty-two when I entered med school, so I just lost my virginity three years ago. You know what’s funny? I’ve always thought I would lose my virginity, at like, thirty. Or twenty-seven. But that was even way too early for me.”
Jungkook almost splutters at the way you casually bring it up. He takes the bottle of Smirnoff away from him and looks at you with a chuckle. “Losing your virginity at nineteen is common.”
“Well, did you? Lose yours at nineteen?” You arch a brow.
“Nope.” Jungkook shakes his head, tipping his head back to drink again.
“Younger?” You ask again.
Jungkook chuckles at your curiosity. Much to your surprise, he shakes his head again. “Nah. Junior year. I just turned twenty-one. Lost it with my first girlfriend.”
Your lips part and Jungkook meets your shocked stare, brow cocked upwards.
“You’re fucking with me.”
“What? No, I’m not.” He laughs. He gets your surprise, though. Taehyung couldn’t believe it either when it came up in a random conversation.
You still look incredulous as you say, “You mean, like you never dated until junior year of undergrad?”
Jungkook shakes his head once again. “Yes, and no…? I mean, I had a… sort of girlfriend? Back in highschool, yeah, but it was more of like a mutual crush thing rather than an official relationship. But yeah, never dated and never had sex ‘til I found my first girlfriend in third year.”
You look at him suspiciously still, and Jungkook can’t help but laugh even more at your reaction.
“I really don’t believe you.”
“What’s so surprising about that?” Jungkook knows the answer, though. He sleeps around, and you know that. It’s probably why you can’t believe he’s only started having sex until third year of college.
You’re quiet for a bit.
“So… you and that girlfriend broke up, and then…” you trail off, letting him finish the pieces.
Jungkook chuckles, recalling some memories that he thought were already hidden well at the back of his head.
Jiyeon. Her name was Park Jiyeon, his first girlfriend. He was the one who ended things – and not because he didn’t have feelings for her. It was the other way around.
“Yeah,” Jungkook fills in. “Didn’t date seriously after that.”
“Uh… was it a bad break-up?” You say, and there’s hesitance in your voice. When Jungkook looks at you, you open your mouth to take your question back, probably, but Jungkook just gives you a warm smile.
“Yeah. It was bad. But I don’t really think about it now.”
You nod. “I see.” You say, looking ahead at the ocean again. “You dated… quite seriously again in our last year of med school, though.”
“Sora?”
“Yeah.”
Jungkook nods, remembering the only one-year relationship he had. Min Sora was a fashion magazine director at the time. Jungkook liked her as she did, but they had too many differences that lead to too many arguments. Sora ended things before the relationship dragged out. Jungkook was grateful for it. They’re casual as of now… good friends, maybe?
“I always wondered why she broke up with you.” You say quietly.
Jungkook doesn’t expect that. “You wondered about that?”
“Yeah. I mean, you seemed like you were both really into each other, so I just thought… you know,” you shrug.
“Ah. That,” Jungkook looks afar, recalling the day when she ended things with him. It had been because of the stress that the last year of med school brought – he likes to think that. But it was also during the time when Eunwoo proposed to you and what he thought was feelings forgotten for you came back resurfacing and Sora just… figured him out. She told him he loved you, and she’s got no spare time to compete with that. Denying it at the time was futile – Sora was smart. A wise, independent woman. She ended the relationship herself before she got deeply hurt. Jungkook has always felt sorry about how things turned out. No, he doesn’t regret the break-up – just regrets the way he hurt her – unintentionally – even though she didn’t show it.  “Just didn’t work out, I guess.”
You nod again.
Silence sits in the air.
It feels a little strange to talk about these things now. It’s not that you both never share these aspects about your lives to each other, but it’s the first time you ask him about Sora. He never really bothered to share, though, for the record.
From his periphery, he sees you taking your phone out from your pocket, then gasping.
Jungkook immediately looks at you to see what’s wrong. You show him your phone and he notes nothing of significance first before you say, “It’s 12:01 am. It’s September first!”
“Oh.”
“Happy birthday, Kook.” You say, smiling at him, and it’s an underestimation for Jungkook to say he nearly gets blinded by it. You look so gorgeous in your happy smile, so genuine, so warm, so cozy in your big grey hoodie.
Jungkook wants so bad to plant his lips on yours right then and there, but he reminds himself that he can’t do that. He reminds himself that you’re taken. That you like somebody else. The somebody else arriving tomorrow, as per your words earlier this day when he asked about Mingyu.
Still, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from mirroring your smile.
“Thank you.”
“And, before I forget,” you stuff your hands in the pocket of your hoodie and Jungkook watches as you take out a small rectangular box. As he pays you a glance, you’re a little bit shy, not looking straight into his eyes as you say, “Uh. I saw this somewhere, and I thought you’d like it.”
You extend your hand to him and Jungkook lets go of his beer to take the velvety green box from you.
He feels jittery as he takes it in, caresses the ribbon first before opening it altogether.
What’s inside surprises him.
“It didn’t cost much so don’t throw it away,” you say, uncharacteristically defensive. Jungkook can’t see your expression, but he bets your thoughts are going haywire as it takes him awhile to say anything about your gift. You always get nervous when it comes to gifts. “... and anyway, it’s not even my real gift. My real gift is a hairdryer, so I’m sure you’re gonna like that better. But it’s cute, right? You can hang it in your keyholder or something—”
“__,” Jungkook cuts you off, his eyes still on the keyring laying on the box. “You’re giving this to me?”
“Y-yeah. It’s… uh… cute, right? I thought it was cute.” You say, and when Jungkook looks at you, he sees the adorable way your brows furrow.
He chuckles, looking at the keyring again. It’s a silver Claddagh.
“Do you know what this means?” Jungkook asks.
“The what?”
Jungkook points to the Claddagh. “This symbol.”
You look away as you say, “No, not really. I just thought it’s a cool keychain. You told me you like keychains, but I don’t ever see you with a keychain. So.”
With your nostrils flaring a little, he knows you’re lying. You definitely know what the Claddagh symbol means.
But instead of goading you about it, Jungkook takes the keyring out of the box and hangs it over his finger, admiring the item.
“Thank you. This is really cute, and I love it.” Jungkook tells you, giving you a soft smile.
You stare at him and then cave into a smile of your own. “I’m glad you do.”
Jungkook looks at the Claddagh again and smiles heartily.
His heart aches with so much yearning and longing when you go back to the villa that night, spending about three minutes staring at the Claddagh you gifted him that he immediately hangs in his key holder. Jungkook thinks he’s going to transfer it to his work bag or the back of his rearview mirror, but his keyholder would do for now.
You love him alright, certainly not the way he does, but it’s enough for him.
Tumblr media
[ DAY 2 | September 1st, 11:55pm ]
It was not a secret among Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung that Jungkook’s mood considerably plummeted down as soon as Mingyu called you early in the morning that he’d be landing in the afternoon.
Afternoon came, and he tried to suck it up like a grown man – and because as far as you know, they’re both friends. And Mingyu’s your boyfriend. He should be nothing but supportive.
But it was especially hard when you gushed about being excited that he was finally here. It’s been four months since you started seeing each other, two months since you officially dated, but somehow, Jungkook still could not process it.
He knows he’s being unfair. To you and to himself. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the feeling of ugly bitterness that sat in his heart as you told him about how Mingyu rented another villa so you both could room together, effectively taking you away from the rest of your friends.
Of course, you all spent his birthday together – doing tons of water activities in the ocean, eating at the dining hall, and roaming around for some more leisure time, but Jungkook could not help but think that ever since Mingyu’s arrived, you’ve been sticking with him, even taking the time away from the gang to show your boyfriend around the resort.
Even at the villa’s porch where all of you took out your foldable chairs to drink outside, you were with Mingyu, perched on his lap, laughing at the jokes getting thrown around in the circle.
He tried not to look too much at how Mingyu comfortably wrapped one arm around your waist while the other held a drink, how you leaned into his touch, and how easily he blended with the group with his charm.
“Where’d you get the ice cream?” Doyeon asked as Taehyung sat down on his chair with a small bowl of the sweet treat.
“Fridge. Nayeon and I bought it earlier.”
“There’s ice cream?” Mingyu asked, in which Taehyung nodded to. He turned to you. “Do you want it?”
Jungkook’s brows furrowed in confusion. “__’s lactose intolerant.” He noticed everybody suddenly looking at him. Feeling cornered, he drank from his beer to avoid their gazes.
Mingyu, obviously surprised by the declaration, glanced back at you. “Baby, you didn’t tell me that?”
You winced. “It’s not really a big deal.” you waved him off and when you laugh.
“Yeah, she’s stubborn about it. She can inhale five cones in one sitting.” Taehyung said which made everybody laugh. Jungkook knew it was to lighten the mood. So, he laughed as well, even though from his periphery, he could see you giving him daggers through your eyes.
Jungkook doesn’t know why you had to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. Sure, Taehyung’s right about you not taking your lactose intolerance seriously sometimes, but you’ve also gotten into a lot of trouble because of it, hence why you’ve been making conscious efforts to not eat dairy.
The whole day leaves a sour impression on him with Mingyu around. Quite a shame, really, since he started his birthday so well with you taking him to the far-end of the beach to drink and give him a Claddagh.
When the night becomes much darker, Jungkook sits on the terrace near the pool all by himself. Everybody’s fast asleep at this point. He doesn’t know about you, though, ‘cause you’ve probably transferred all your stuff to the other villa Mingyu rented around.
“Hey,”
Jungkook looks at the embodied voice that suddenly calls. He sees it’s Doyeon.
“Hey,” Jungkook smiles, taking the other bottle of beer on the coffee table and offering it to her.
She waves his hand. “Nah, I’ve had enough for the whole day.” Doyeon situates herself on the folding chair next to Jungkook.
Jungkook nods, looking straight ahead to the pool. They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Doyeon speaks.
“Hey, I’m sorry for the last week,”
Jungkook glances at her with a small smile. “What for?”
“For calling you a pussy. And just… being harsh. Had a tough week and your emotional constipation just pissed me off more. You’re still a pussy, but I shouldn’t have rubbed it off your face.” She says.
Jungkook stares at her with parted lips.
“Wow. I don’t know if that’s an actual apology.”
“It’s an apology with a hundred percent realness, you know I don’t baby anybody.”
“Hah,” Jungkook scoffs, amused. “Yeah. Well, you’re right, though. Today’s been…”
Doyeon sighs. “It’s hard on you, right?”
Jungkook can only give her a meaningful smile.
“But you don’t exactly have the right to get jealous… she’s not your girlfriend and you two are not anything,” Doyeon says, and it tugs at Jungkook’s heartstrings. Meanwhile, she looks ahead and continues to speak. “It’s hard when you have all these feelings for someone, but you have to hide it. You just want to show everybody they mean so much to you, but you can’t. It sucks.”
Jungkook thinks she’s still talking about his situation with you but then as he glances at her, she seems to be deep in thought. As if she’s actually speaking from her own experience.
He’s intrigued by that, of course.
“Woah, are you still talking about me?”
That seems to get Doyeon out of her trance.
She rolls his eyes. “Who else would I be talking about?”
Jungkook opens his mouth to say something. You guys have always had the theory that Doyeon has a secret boyfriend. It’s silly at best but sometimes, he thinks it’s true. Doyeon has never been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, though. She’s tough and she’s frank a lot of times. But she’s the kind of friend who’d call you a bitch in your face but then would go to all the lengths to defend you from everybody.
“Okay.” Jungkook nods, dropping the subject.
“Has she told you yet?” Doyeon asks suddenly.
“What?” He mirrors back, knowing exactly who the she Doyeon’s referring to.
“She’s planning to move in with him some of these days.”
“I…” Jungkook stops, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in water. To say that he’s stunned is an understatement. Obviously, you haven’t told him anything.
“You don’t know.” Doyeon says upon realization.
Jungkook shakes his head. “She didn’t tell me.”
Doyeon lets out a loud sigh. “It’s not really set in stone, though, that’s what she said. But they’re discussing it.”
“Ah.” Jungkook nods and looks ahead at the pool. Another beat of silence, a sip of beer, and then he scoffs. “I really should’ve confessed even way back then, huh?” He laughs but there’s no humor in it.
Doyeon stares at him. “I didn’t tell you about that so you can regret not telling your feelings for her earlier.”
“I didn’t—”
“I told you that so you can move on, Jungkook.”
Jungkook closes his mouth shut.
She looks away. “You remember the time I liked you in med school?”
“Doyeon…” Jungkook’s lips part, not at all expecting for her to bring that up. It’s been so long ago and ever since… Doyeon’s confession, they never really talked about it again.
“Oh my god, look at your face,” She laughs. “God, do you think I still like you? I moved on the day after you rejected me.”
“I didn’t reject you.” Jungkook defensively says.
She rolls her eyes. “I asked you if you were interested and you didn’t say anything. You just looked at me like this,” Doyeon stiffens her body and widens her eyes in a comical rendition of Jungkook’s famous OJO face.
Jungkook can’t help but scoff. “That was the strangest confession that happened to me, though. You told me you liked me in the straightest face ever, I still think it was a cruel prank of some sort.”
Doyeon bursts into laughter, and Jungkook follows along, recalling that time.
“Yeah… that was funny. But… it was real, not a prank at all. I don’t remember why I liked you, though.”
Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “Okay, but that’s actually the most hurtful thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Doyeon rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips still. “Anyway, I brought it up because that was the same day when I realized you like __. I mean, I had my suspicions, but I confirmed it around the time.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “Was really surprised when you told me that. I thought I hid it pretty well.”
“Yeah, but not to me. You know, I don’t even know how __ didn’t figure it out herself. You’d always follow her around and in our study sessions, you always stayed up late with her and was overly attentive. Whenever Taehyung asked you too much, you sort of like reached a point where you just told him to suck it up. But if it was __, you were so patient,” Doyeon giggles. “She had a really hard time with Biochem. I remember you tutoring her all the time.”
“That was…” Jungkook bows his head down, a bit embarrassed at being read like that. “She cried a lot during first year.”
Doyeon purses her lips. “Yeah…”
Both stare ahead again, with nothing to say for a few more seconds. Jungkook continues to sip his bear while Doyeon quietly sits.
“I have this biased notion about Mingyu,” Doyeon speaks up. Jungkook looks at her she continues, “I keep on telling myself, he’s probably gonna fuck up anytime soon – and that’s because deep inside, I still want you and __ together. You know I’ve always wanted you both to be together. It’s hard to see __ struggling with her love life. She almost failed the internship when Eunwoo broke up with her, and I don’t want her to go through that again as her friend. It’s hard, because I can’t do anything about it. I think of you, and how much you love her, and I think you’re good for her… but at the same time, I feel bad for thinking that. Because I can see that Mingyu makes her happy. It’s different with the other guys she dated before him. She’s truly happy with him, and I find it hard to think that Mingyu’s gonna break her heart. He seems… nice… and that he’d be good for her, you know what I mean?”
Jungkook’s quiet, processing her words.
Doyeon sighs before she speaks again. “But that hurts you in the process, doesn’t it? Seeing her happy but not with you. You’re both my friends and I’m in the position where it’s hard for me to situate myself in a certain place. Because I want __ to be happy, but I also want you to be happy – but your happiness is interconnected and it’s… tricky. It’s a tricky situation.”
Jungkook doesn’t realize that he’s gripping the neck of the bottle quite tightly at Doyeon’s words, but he listens.
“I don’t normally say things like this, Jungkook, but I’m your friend so I’m just gonna let this go,” Doyeon finally looks at him, and he meets her gaze. “It hurts me to see you hurting like this. It hurts Taehyung and Nayeon as well, but they won’t say it. Just… just be… just be okay, please?”
Jungkook exhales a sharp, shaky breath.
He knows what Doyeon meant by that. She’s asking him to… find happiness on his own. Happiness that doesn’t lie on __’s reciprocity because with the way things are going, that’s impossible. She’s planning to move in with Mingyu, and most of all, she seems genuinely happy.
“I… I know. Thank you.” Jungkook says, not really knowing what to say.
Doyeon chuckles. “Do you want a hug?”
He looks at her with a smile. “I could use one right now, yeah.”
Doyeon laughs before standing up and going over to where Jungkook sits on his own sun chair. When she steps in front of him, Jungkook wraps his arms around her waist and lets himself rest the side of his head on her stomach, closing his eyes when Doyeon pats the crown of his head.
“Belated happy birthday, Jungkook.”
Jungkook chuckles. “Thanks. You’re unusually mushy today.”
Doyeon pinches his ear slightly which earns her a groan.
The two stay like that for a few more seconds when suddenly, Jungkook hears a familiar voice.
“Oh, h-hey guys,”
Jungkook immediately looks ahead to see you standing from the other side of the terrace, looking at him and Doyeon. At that, Doyeon lets go of him, twisting her body to look in your direction. Jungkook retreats his arms back to his side and smiles to acknowledge you.
“I thought you were sleeping already.” He says.
“Yeah, what brought you here?” Doyeon asks.
You approach them with unusually slow steps, as if reluctant. “Left my wallet here. Just realized it a while ago,” you say. After that, you stop on your tracks. Your gaze falls between them with an unsure smile on your face. “You two drinking?”
“Nah, Jungkook is.” Doyeon says, pointing to the bottle of Smirnoffs on the small table beside Jungkook’s chair. Then, she looks under her own. “Where’d you leave your wallet?”
“Over my chair earlier.” You give her a smile again. But somehow, it looks a bit awkward. A little forced. Jungkook knows you well enough to identify your smiles.
And as he looks at you longer, he realizes you have a certain color on your face, but it’s one of those expressions he can’t read.
“Well,” you blurt out after a beat of silence. Looking around, you go over to where you were sitting earlier then duck. “I think I left it here…” you trail off. Jungkook’s just about to stand up to help as well when you suddenly pull up a brown leather, grinning at both of them. “Yay.”
Jungkook chuckles. “That would’ve been the third wallet you’ll lose this year.”
You mirror his laughter, and Doyeon joins in.
There’s another pause and then hesitantly, you ask, “Did I… uh… disturb something? Or…”
“What?” Doyeon asks with furrowed brows. “No,”
“Ah, okay,” you smile at her and then insert your wallet in your shorts. “Anyway, I’m heading back to Mingyu. The villa he rented is just at the back of ours, so… feel free to visit anytime or whatever.”
“Sure.” Jungkook says. He didn’t mean it to sound clipped and short but he must have unintentionally let the tone slip, as you and Doyeon immediately give him a look. He clears his throat. “I mean, of course. Tomorrow?”
You nod.
You look at him. And then, you point between him and Nayeon. “Are you two staying up here late?”
“Nah, I’m heading to bed actually.” Doyeon says, picking up her phone from the sun lounger.
“Yeah, me too.” Jungkook puts the beer to the coffee table and stands up.
You nod. “Okay, then. Well, good night to you two.”
“Alright, good night. I’ll head out first.” Doyeon says before disappearing into the sliding door that leads straight to the villa’s living room.
You soon turn your heels back to head out as well, but Jungkook calls after you. Turning around, you hum, acknowledging him. “Hm?”
“Good night, stinky.”
You deadpan. “Night, fucker.”
Jungkook laughs, watching your retreating back as you leave.
Tumblr media
[ DAY 4 | September 3rd , 3:05 am ]
Jungkook likes to work out when he has a lot in his mind. But sometimes, he opts for jogging or walking around to clear his head.
With the turn of events since Mingyu’s arrival and Doyeon informing him about your plans on furthering your relationship with Mingyu, he finds himself along by the shore at three am with high hopes to clear his mind. It doesn’t give the solution, but it temporarily does the job.
Inserting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, he looks ahead at the view of the ocean, trying so hard to shut his head down with overbearing thoughts of you. It’s no use, though, it’s always filled with thoughts of you and you alone.
Jungkook thinks about the time in med school when he thought he was completely over you. It had been after you made it official with Eunwoo two months into seeing him. He thought it would be a “bigger person” thing to do, moving on, that is, after you announced that you got a boyfriend – but then later on, when he slept with other women or had his casual dates, you suddenly popped up in his head randomly, and his heart suddenly ached when Eunwoo would drop by the university to fetch you. He felt ugly bitterness when you smiled too much whenever Eunwoo was brought up in the conversation. He found himself wishing it was him instead – the guy you thought of buying shirts for, the guy you randomly thought of when you saw something at the mall or the park, or the guy you called when you needed anything.
It was that spring break in second year when he realized that he loved you, after trying hard to brush his feelings off for you as a mere infatuation because you were gorgeous and smart.
He finds himself thinking about the time when he almost let out his heart when you had a fall-out with Eunwoo during your third year. Thinks about how pathetic he was for thinking that he finally had the chance. It had been when you called him at midnight, crying onto the phone as you asked him if he wasn’t busy. Jungkook had been studying for a Clinical Skill Assessment at that time, but he’d have been a fool to make you feel lonely when you already seemed like you were not fine. So, he had set aside his studying that night and went right over to your place. You told him about how Eunwoo was going cold, how Eunwoo was getting too close to the senior architect at his firm which you’d been having huge arguments about during those days – Jungkook remembered feeling broken at the sight of you crying, could feel himself building up hatred for the guy who was fucking up his chance with the woman he did not deserve. He thought about how he would never do that to you, thought about how he could be better for you – the envy bubbling inside his heart too big to ignore.
Jungkook remembered thinking how he would never fuck up any chances with you, and how Eunwoo was a fucking idiot for even making you feel that way.
That night, he almost kissed you. And the day after that, you avoided him like the plague.
Doyeon told him he was just as much of a big fucking idiot as Eunwoo for doing that. And Jungkook remembered regretting that night, and swearing off to never, ever make a move on you ever again because your avoidance of him made him feel like the biggest fucking piece of shit to ever exist on Earth.
He remembers you didn’t talk to him for about a month. And he remembers fearing that that was finally it.  
Of course, you made up – you’re still in his life. You let him still be in your life even though he betrayed your trust. The trust that lies on the fact that he was your best friend. Someone who was not supposed to take advantage of your vulnerability, someone who did not suddenly try to kiss you when you were at your worst.
It was a memory you two weren’t fond of. Heck, you’ve never ever brought it up not even once since it happened. When you finally talked to him again after that, you did not let him apologize for what he did – just shut him down by saying that you two should just forget about it and never mention it again. You made it clear that you did not want to talk about it – not at all, not in a million years.
Again, Jungkook has had a million attempts to move on. Especially when you got back together with Eunwoo. He did temporarily, when Sora came into the picture. He genuinely did like her, even more than his first girlfriend in college, and he thought he could eventually love her the same way he does you, but Eunwoo suddenly proposed… and his defense came crumbling down. The fear of losing you once again was too overwhelming that he ruined the relationship with Sora because admittedly, he had always been pathetic like that.
Even now that you’re with Mingyu, he’s still pathetic. He still thinks that one day, you can finally look at him. Like, really look at him and feel anything but friendly towards him. It’s extremely pathetic that he keeps on telling himself that your friendship will be enough, but then deep down, it’s not.
Jungkook shuts his eyes close when he feels the cool breeze of the wind hitting his skin under the hoodie. He lets himself stand there for a while, just trying to bask in the surroundings, ignoring the heavy feeling that sits in his heart.
But then he smells a sudden waft of smoke, and he knits his brows as he opens his eyes back again, turning to the direction of the smell.
When he turns back, he sees a familiar figure of a man.
“Mingyu?”
Mingyu glances back at him with the same surprised look on his face, but it disappears just as quickly. Pinching the cigarette between his fingers, he blows smoke in the air and inserts one hand in his shorts.
“Jeon.”
“Still Jeon to you, huh?” Jungkook sneers, walking over to where Mingyu is. “Why are you here?”
Mingyu arches a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Woke up a few minutes ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
Taking a hit of his cigarette again, Mingyu shakes his head. “That’s tough.”
“Same with you?” Jungkook asks.
“Nah. Had a discussion with my girlfriend. Just wanted to clear my head.”
Jungkook nods, not saying anything to that. It’s weird that you’ve been fighting a lot lately. He wonders if you’re okay.
Pulling out a pack of Marlboro and a lighter, Mingyu extends them to Jungkook.
He looks down at it and thinks about how this exact thing happened in college. Mingyu always had the pack of cigarettes and the link to the best weed man in college. He used to think they would be fond memories.
But Jungkook shakes his head, looking ahead.
“I quit years ago.” He says. And it is true. He wasn’t much of a smoker and only did it occasionally when he was extremely stressed, but it took him awhile to stop the habit completely, only dropping the cigarettes during second year of med school. Jungkook would say it was due to his own concern about his health – but there was an incident in the same year where you caught him smoking at the uni’s park after a particularly taxing exam, and how you did not hesitate to tell him that you hated – absolutely abhorred – smokers. You said you didn’t care if he smoked, but as a med student he should’ve known better.
He never touched that shit again.
“Changing your ways now?” Mingyu says with a teasing – more like mocking – tone, inserting the pack and lighter back in his pants.
Jungkook shrugs at that, which earns him a scoff from Mingyu.
“Do you smoke around her?” Jungkook suddenly asks.
“Who?”
“__.”
A beat of silence. And then Mingyu laughs.
“No. She doesn’t know I smoke. She doesn’t have to.”
Good. Jungkook thinks. Good that he doesn’t smoke around her. But what did he mean by saying she doesn’t need to know?
“She doesn’t like smokers, you know.” Jungkook tells him.
From his periphery, Jungkook sees Mingyu glancing at him. It takes a while for him to say something.
“You’d know that, huh?”
The dip in his tone makes Jungkook meet his gaze. Suddenly, the smirk on Mingyu’s face is gone, and there’s something behind his eyes that he can’t quite put a finger on.
Jungkook tries to ignore that. “I’ve known her for a long time. The others can also tell you that.” He says, referring to the rest of your friends on the trip.
“You think I don’t know?”
With furrowed brows and growing confusion, Jungkook stares at Mingyu.
“What?”
“That you like my girlfriend.” Mingyu spits the words out like venom in his mouth, but it’s in a way that tells him it’s been sitting with him for far too long. Jungkook’s surprised at the declaration, feels himself being taken aback by the blunt way he said it as if he’s so sure.
But Jungkook doubles down, to Mingyu’s surprise.
“So?”
That obviously wasn’t the answer the other man wanted to hear. So, what? He can dish it, but he can’t take it?
“You’re goddamn pathetic, then.” Mingyu says after awhile, taking a hit on his cigarette again.
It itches the bubbling anger Jungkook has had for him for the past ten years.
“I like __, and I’m not gonna deny that to you,” Jungkook faces him. “But you don’t have to worry about that, because unlike you, I have enough self-respect to not sleep with my friend’s girlfriend.”
It’s another response that Mingyu does not expect. Jungkook also did not mean to let that out. But his tongue glided with the words and he couldn’t help it. Suddenly, memories of junior year in undergrad comes back flashing to him; Jiyeon and Mingyu, fucking in his goddamn bed, his girlfriend cheating on him with his best friend.
Jungkook’s already moved on from that. Jiyeon was not a loss, even though she was his first girlfriend – heck, first love even, but she cheated on him. And not just with anybody but his best friend at the time. The worst thing was that Mingyu was completely in on it, and Jungkook doesn’t think he ever felt remorse about what happened back then. Mingyu gave him a half-assed apology the day he walked in on them, even had the gall to “explain” Jiyeon’s side, that apparently, she just wasn’t “feeling it” with Jungkook anymore, and that Mingyu and her had been hitting it off. Jungkook realized it was why Mingyu suddenly came over way too often over at his apartment.
It’s exactly why he never bothered to meet with Mingyu after graduation. Why he was not enthusiastic meeting him at the engagement party.
But that happened so many years ago that he thought Mingyu’s changed. He didn’t want to burst your bubble and tell you what happened between them back then because he’d be the one to ruin the happiness you’ve wished for all these years.
“I see you’re still hung up on that.” Mingyu says after a while. He throws the cigarette away and steps on it with his heel.
Jungkook’s jaw ticks in what he feels is growing rage. “I’ve moved on. I’m just letting you know that even though I like __, I’m never doing what you did back then.”
“You’re such good guy, then?”
“If not cheating makes me a good guy, then maybe I am.” Jungkook shrugs.
“Jiyeon was a bitch. She was never gonna be good for you.” Mingyu suddenly says.
It makes Jungkook seethe. “And so you fucked her?”
“She liked me better than you. Women always liked me more, that’s why I was going through them while your goody-two shoes virgin prude ass was daydreaming about dating to marry.  You remember that, right?” Mingyu looks at him with a mocking stare. “And Jiyeon was smoking hot. She offered, I just delivered. Said you couldn’t make her cum properly. We could have shared her, you know?”
“Fuck you.” Jungkook spits out. He feels enraged and pissed and disgusted all at the same time.
“Are you getting mad?” Mingyu levels him with an infuriating smirk. “You always got a stick up in your ass, Jeon. Kyungmi told me you’re just a regular playboy these days, said it was the effect of your first girlfriend cheating on you. Right now, though, is that just a front to hide your feelings from my girlfriend? A pathetic boy best friend just wanting to be noticed by his hot girl best friend? You play that role so well. Telling me she’s lactose intolerant, she doesn’t like smokers… you want to fuck her so bad it’s laughable because you know you can’t.”
“Don’t… fucking talk about her like that.” Jungkook growls, and he feels blood rushing through his veins.
Mingyu shakes his head. “You know what I thought when I first met her? I was completely interested right away, but when you showed up…” He chuckles in the way that makes Jungkook’s skin prickle. “It just made me want her more.”
“You’re fucked in the head.”
“This fucked in the head guy got the girl you want wanting to commit to him. I don’t know if she told you, but we’re moving in together.”
Jungkook pokes his tongue to his cheek. “You think I won’t tell her about this?”
“You think she’s gonna believe you?” Mingyu fires back. Jungkook closes his mouth, doesn’t really know if he’s confident enough to say yes. That earns him an arrogant smirk from Mingyu. “That’s right, she won’t. I have no doubt she’s gonna choose me over you. Jiyeon has had before. And if you’re gonna fight the same battle again this time, you’ll lose.”
Jungkook regulates his breathing hearing his words. He’s starting to not see clearly, his fist clenching on his side and he knows better than to resort to violence, but Mingyu’s testing his patience.
He’s completely wrong for thinking that he isn’t the same asshole he was back in college. He’s completely wrong for not telling you about him sooner. He’s completely wrong about everything.
Glancing at his hand, Mingyu looks him in the eyes, leaning forward. “You wanna hit me just like how you did back then? You almost fucking killed me when you gave me that head injury that kicked me out of the fucking team.”
The head injury. That fucking head injury. Jungkook was so mad when he found out that he just saw pure red. It wasn’t his best moment – he knows. He lost control and just… went for it. He still regrets doing it – not punching Mingyu – but for losing it when he could’ve shown him that he’d always be the bigger person between them both.
He’s quiet and Mingyu takes that as a win. Scoffing, Mingyu says, “I could’ve reported you to the admin and you could’ve been expelled, and if that happened, you couldn’t have gone to med. You are where you are right now because of me, so don’t fucking show that animosity towards me because you fucking owe me one.”
Jungkook can’t help but laugh. But he does so humorlessly. “You really think that?” He stares at the other guy. “You’re just as delusional as you were back then, Gyu. You think everybody liked you – but that was just because you were a touch-deprived loser who would fuck anything that breathed near him, and I wasn’t. I only entertained women I liked. You thought you were smarter, but I was always the one who got the better and higher grades, even though you studied way harder. Is that why you went with law? So you won’t have to compete with me in the med field? I also know you were pissed as fuck when the captain title was passed on to me instead of you,” Jungkook leans closer as well. “You’ve always thought of yourself so highly, but deep down, you were just an insecure little boy trying to compete with another guy that didn’t even see you as competition because you were that irrelevant.”
Mingyu, in his own fir of rage, grabs Jungkook’s collar, but Jungkook stays in his place, face stoic as Mingyu snarls, “You keep running your mouth while you cry yourself to sleep because those don’t mean anything when I’m the one fucking the love of your life,” Jungkook visibly recoils to that, and when Mingyu notices, he smirks, adding, “Yeah, yeah, you wanna know how __ is in bed? Because you’ll never see her sopping wet when you give her cock. That angelic face of hers… you’ll never know she’s a slut the way that filthy mouth asks me to fuck her harder because I am that goo—”
He wasn’t able to finish his sentence when Jungkook’s heavy fist suddenly lands on his cheek.
That effectively gets Mingyu to let go of Jungkook’s collar as he loses his balance and steps backwards limply, thumbing the side of his mouth only to see blood.
Whisking away his fist, Jungkook looks at Mingyu with fire in his eyes and venom in his voice when he says, “Don’t you ever fucking dare talk about her like that, you fucking piece of shit.”
The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery white glow over the beach, but the comforting sound of waves and the calm of the surrounding is a contrast to the rising tension between Jungkook and Mingyu.
When Mingyu doesn’t say anything, Jungkook turns on his heel, ready to leave, but suddenly, he feels the back of his shirt getting pulled and being met with a fist right on his cheek, close to his nose. He barely dodges the hit, taken aback by the unexpected attack.
“Fuck you.” Mingyu grits, eyes blazing.
With that, the fight intensifies, with Jungkook throwing a quick jab back. Mingyu retaliates with as much fury, the two of them grappling, their bodies colliding with violent force. Soon, the sound of their grunts and the occasional crash of a punch against flesh is drowned out by the crashing waves.
And then a familiar voice calls their names.
“Jungkook! Mingyu!”
“Oh my god!”
Jungkook’s suddenly being taken away by somebody by his arms, and he realizes it’s Taehyung when he speaks up again once he and Mingyu are off each other.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Taehyung asks incredulously, rightfully shocked at what he’s seen. Jungkook forces his way out of Taehyung’s hold in frustration, wiping the side of his mouth. Mingyu’s on the other side a few inches away being hesitantly held down by Nayeon, who looks at all of them with deep worry in her eyes. Turning to her, Taehyung says, “Call Doyeon and __. They’re sleeping in the same room together at the villa.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Jungkook says, glaring at Taehyung.
He looks at him angrily. “You’re fistfighting with somebody at fuck o’clock in the morning. We’re going to get run off by the police, be thankful we saw you.”
“I-I’ll call Doyeon and __.” Nayeon stutters, reluctantly pulling away from Mingyu and going to the direction of the villas.
When she leaves, Taehyung looks between the two beaten up men, not believing their busted faces. Rubbing his own with his hands in frustration, he looks back at them again, saying, “What the fuck happened to you guys? Why were you fighting?”
“It’s none of your business.” Mingyu says.
Taehyung glances at him with irritation. “None of my business? Fuck off, Kim Mingyu. You joined in on this trip. Everything that happens here is quite literally each other’s business.”
“Tae.”
“I can’t believe you guys,” Taehyung shakes his head, ignoring Jungkook. “Fighting like goddamn immature teenagers… are you not embarrassed?”
Looking away, Jungkook decides to sit on the sand and let Taehyung’s words go from one ear to another. His energy is waning and the rage he had a while ago is just simmering down to… nothing. He feels absolutely empty.
“Jungkook?” He doesn’t realize the steps that were coming towards them were you and Doyeon. It’s obvious that you’ve both been sleeping, still in your pajamas as you rush towards their direction. He looks at you when you call his name, but then suddenly, you turn to Mingyu. “Ming— what happened?”
Jungkook feels his heart break when you come towards Mingyu’s direction first. He knows why you did. He’s your boyfriend, of course you are going to tend to him first.
Suddenly, he remembers what Mingyu said. About you choosing him over Jungkook.
Jungkook didn’t doubt that, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt a little to see it fully realized.
“Jungkook– Jesus Christ,” Doyeon comes over to him and quickly checks his head. With knitted brows, she casts him a look.
“I’m fine.”
She’s about to say something, but then she closes her mouth and then glances at you.
Sighing, she turns to everyone and announces, “Look, let’s just get them back to the villa. Treat their wounds before they get infected.”
“Right.” Taehyung says and then comes over to Jungkook to help Doyeon guide him in walking. He relents first because he doesn’t need their assistance, but Taehyung looks at him and he knows he’s pissed. So, he lets them.
As he tries to subtly look over to where you were, you have your arm around Mingyu’s waist while Nayeon helps guide him as well.
It takes a tedious few minutes to get back to the villa where Doyeon and Taehyung decide to take care of him in his room while Nayeon and you tend to Mingyu back in your room.
Doyeon nor Taehyung doesn’t say anything the whole time. Just let the silence fall in the room as they clean his wounds and put bandages around the cuts on his face and treat his busted lip.
He knows they’ll talk to him in the next few hours. It’s inevitable. But at least they’re sparing him for tonight – or today, since it’s almost four am.
Jungkook regrets not seeing the sunrise.
Tumblr media
[ READ BELOW ]
this chapter is not over yet! tumblr has a 1k paragraph/block limit in a single post and so i can't put the whole thing in this. please look thru the reblogs to read the last scene and the continuation of this chapter or click on this [ link ]
1K notes · View notes
strawberrisoulmate · 2 years ago
Note
congrats on the new blog i love the colors !!! how about 🌟 + kazuaki or mondo?
Thank you!!! I worked really hard on it, so I'm very glad that you like it!! 🥰
Ooh... this is a tough choice... I'll answer for Mondo on this one since it's been a while since I've thought significantly about him and I miss him uwu
Tumblr media
To the outside person, these two look like they would never get along. He's a rough-and-tough delinquent leading an infamous biker gang and she's a somewhat mousy and soft-hearted artist with a love for romance anime.
But what others may not realize is that they balance each other out.
What Hana lacks in physical strength, she makes up for in her ability to empathize and care for others around her. And what Mondo lacks in emotional vulnerability, he has plenty of brawn to go around. While not common, Hana can lose her temper if pushed too far; and she has a tendency to prioritize other's well-being above her own, sometimes to the point of breaking down. And while Mondo isn't always the best with words and feelings, he holds a lot of respect for someone who is able to help others even if they themselves are hurting.
He worries about not being strong enough. He worries that he'll let everyone down if he were to show even a sliver of the pain and hurt and weakness that plagues his thoughts.
She worries that she isn't good enough. She worries that she'll fail at every turn. She worries that everything she's worked for will come crumbling down around her in the blink of an eye.
But despite everything — they have each other; and while that won't fix all of their problems, at least they won't have to go through them alone.
Tumblr media
1 note · View note
oncillabrigade · 7 months ago
Text
Consider:
The Bats all have personalized ring tones for one another, but everyone has both a civilian and a Bat ring tone. The civilian ones are chaos, with everyone choosing whatever they want for their various family members and friends. BUT! Everyone has a single Bat tone that all other team members use for them.
The catch? Bruce forbid them from choosing their own Bat ring tones because he proposed this plan back in Dick's Robin days and he IMMEDIATELY picked "Toxic." The choice was not well received.
Bruce: Dick, I will not be alerted to the fact that you're in danger by some Britney Spears song.
Dick: First of all, it is not some Britney song, it is the Britney song. That song finally won her a Grammy.
Bruce: *sighs*
Dick: Second of all, it won't tell you when I'm in danger... it'll tell you when Robin is.
Bruce:
Bruce: I'm taking the Walkman out of the Robin kit.
Dick: *offended gasp*
(Yes, Dick is old enough for a Walkman. No, you will not change my mind. Yes, the Tim-and-on siblings all find that hilarious. Yes, Jason has to be VERY careful not to mention that he borrowed that Walkman for years because he was uncomfortable taking expensive electronics out and about with him.)
Anyway!
Dick then proposes a slew of other songs for the whole team to use, all of which are pop culture references, e.g. the Scrubs theme because they're not Superman and also they're a dysfunctional family of coworkers; the theme from the Godfather because "let's be honest, B, we are basically our own mafia"; "Where is My Mind" by the Pixies because lol identity shenanigans, etc. The list is endless. Bruce spends weeks groaning every time his son texts him.
Eventually, they compromise on the version of "The Entertainer" from The Sting because they're hiding in plain sight to enact a mission defending good people in a hard world. Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all so pleased with this that they each take a different section of the song as their ring tone.
Then Barbara becomes Batgirl, so she gets a section... and then Jason becomes Robin and gets one, too... and then Tim, then Steph, and then Cass is taken in, and... uh oh. That's a lot of people for one song.
But it's family tradition! They can't stop now. That would be so unfair to the new kids, B!
So they start using alternate arrangements of the song. Bruce has mellowed slightly on the "no choosing your own" thing. As long as it's a version of "The Entertainer" (within reason) he'll allow it.
Tim retroactively changes his ring tone to a weird groove-ska arrangement Bart randomly sent him on YouTube because have you met Tim Drake? Of course he went for hilarious obscurity. (Bruce grits his teeth and approves it after lots of prompting from Dick and Alfred). Steph makes it her mission to find a weirder one (Bruce agrees because he's too tired to deal with accusations of favoritism).
Cass creates her own arrangement on theremin because apparently she knows how to play the theremin. No one is sure why. Upon inquiry, she just says, "spooky noises are fun," but does not elaborate further even when she's asked to do so. A Batgirl's gotta have her secrets—Babs taught her that.
When Jason starts working with his family again, he pays an aspiring music producer within Red Hood's ranks to create a minor key remix of the original Robin II ring tone. His siblings (minus Cass) are VERY jealous he has his own personalized arrangement. Dick, Tim, and Steph end up paying this goon who owns Garage Band to do ones for them, too. Duke does the same when he joins the team.
Meanwhile, in a fit of little brotherly pique, Damian steals Tim's original ring tone. He hopes to rub salt in the Robin replacement wounds. He fails! Tim finds it beyond funny that Damian's ring tone is groove-ska. So Damian quietly pays the amateur producer to make him one that's cooler than Tim's. He pays a ludicrous amount, though, because Steph paid for one cooler than Jason's and Tim paid for one cooler than Steph's.
(Dick wanted one cooler than Jason's too, but he had $63.02 in his bank account at the time and Bruce flat out refused to use the Batbudget on "a super cool ring tone that's better than Jay's." Eventually, Dick just paid himself for an averagely cool one. In installments.)
At this point, the Bats have single-handedly given this fledgling producer enough money to quit being a goon and start an indie music studio. His first customers are mostly superheroes from out of town who like what the Bats have going on and want their own team ring tones. Harley and Ivy get in on that action, too.
Then, as word spreads, every local crook/henchperson with a side band (there are many) flocks to the studio to have their stuff produced by one of their own. Gotham rogues suddenly have an unemployment problem, while the city finds itself with a flourishing indie music scene that puts Metropolis' to shame. The entire state of New Jersey is celebrating the dual victory.
Dick has never been so glad someone doesn't like Britney Spears' magnum opus.
2K notes · View notes
jobean12-blog · 5 months ago
Text
Stay
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1,176
Summary: You and Bucky have been doing the flirty friends dance for a while now, the tension building but when nothing seems to progress any further you accept a date from another guy...
Author's Note: So I was just thinking about the hotness of dry humping and when you just have to find release in the moment and all that and I love the whole friends to lovers trope. There isn't a ton of back story here but it's the usual. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: fluffy, softness, tension, dry humping, confessions lol
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Are you sure I didn’t wake you Bucky?”
He’s standing in the doorway of his apartment in nothing but sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His hair is mussed and falling over his forehead, and you can smell the soap on his skin.
You try to keep your eyes trained on his face.
“I’m sure,” he says as he takes your hand and leads you into his apartment. “I’ve been up for a while.”
He rubs the back of his neck and glances at you as you take off your jacket.
“So, are you going to tell me more about this date…that was over at what eight o’clock?” he asks teasingly.
“Maybe it was closer to nine,” you laugh.
“Doll,” he chides, still staring.
You groan and hang your jacket over the chair. “I just wasn’t…he wasn’t…”
Your words die off when you see the expression on his face. His eyes are wide, and his lips are slightly parted as his gaze moves slowly down your body.
“What?” you ask.
“What are you…did you walk all the way over here in that?”
You drop your head to look down at your clothing. “Oh.”
“I probably should have thought about that but I…I wanted to see you and…”
“It’s fine,” Bucky mumbles before he swallows hard and tries to focus on filling a glass of water.
“So…the date?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the sink.
“I guess I didn’t really want to be there. I had other things on my mind.”
“Like?” he counters.
“Likeeeeee…um.”
“Me?”
His one-word response comes out quietly and as more of a question and when his eyes meet yours they’re soft and shy and a little hopeful.
“Yeah,” you answer, looking down as you twist your hands in front of you.
“Well, in case you didn’t get the memo before, I wasn’t exactly having an easy time sleeping over here…or doing anything else for that matter.”
You look up again and meet his stare as he continues.
“I can’t concentrate on shit. Sam keeps giving me hell because I’m not focused.”
You laugh softly as you move closer. “I know exactly what you mean. I’m so wound up I can hardly sit still.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, running his hand over his hair with an exhale. “I hate that you went on a date with another guy tonight.”
“I hate it too. I don’t even know why I did,” you say quietly, inching closer. “All I kept thinking, is that I wanted it to be you.”
He closes the distance, his eyes searching every inch of your face. “I should have stopped you and told you…”
You wait for him to finish, knowing this is all new again for him.
“I don’t think... I’ve never been this distracted by anyone before,” he whispers.
You’re so close you can see the small patches of gray hairs that line his shadowed jaw and without thinking you lean in and brush your lips to his.
He sucks in a breath, and you feel him press his body against yours.
“I have no idea what we’re doing,” he admits. “But I do know that I don’t want anyone else to take you out…to kiss you…to have you.”
“Bucky…”
His name is a whispered plea, and he tilts his head and closes his eyes, moving just enough to kiss you softly.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.
There is no way you could.
Instead, you reach up, slide your fingers along the back of his neck and press your lips more firmly to his.
And then he pushes forward, closer, lining up your bodies so that you can feel the hard shape of him against your stomach.
Your hand slides along his skin and you feel the solid strength of muscle in his back as he walks you backward until you fall gently onto the couch.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers against your lips.
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes and sweeps his thumb across your bottom lip.
“Me either,” you tell him, shifting until his length is pressed right between your legs.
He swears and dips back down to kiss you. Your hips roll and his face falls to your neck with a groan.
“Fuck that feels good,” he murmurs, moving with you.
The material of his sweatpants is thin and your sleep shorts even thinner and you can feel every inch of him.
Your hips press up from the couch and you give his hair a tug.
“That’s it doll,” he says. “Don’t stop.”
His mouth follows his hands everywhere and you grow more and more desperate, searching for friction as you rub against him repeatedly.
“Bucky,” you gasp.
He rocks his hips forward and against you, the perfect drag of heat and pressure just where you need it.
Your fingers twist into his hair and you feel yourself start to fall, closing your eyes as your release rushes through your body. You cry out his name and feel his hips move faster, his grip tight on your skin as he grunts into your neck when he comes.
He collapses against you, his breath warm on your skin before pushing up onto his elbows and looking down at you with a sweet, drowsy, and almost timid expression.
“Hey doll,” he says, his lips tilting into a lopsided smirk.
“Hiya Buck,” you whisper, running a hand over his hair.
“Doing that made me feel young again,” he chuckles. “Like a teenager.”
Your smile is bright as you trace the crinkle lines around his eyes. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
He feigns an appalled look and then brushes his nose to yours with a smirk.
“You just made me come in my pants. I have no control when it comes to you.”
“Is that a bad thing?” you ask with a soft smile.
“No,” he murmurs. “Definitely not.”
His large hand cradles your cheek, and he kisses your forehead, then your temple, his lips moving slowly along your skin until they meet the spot just below your ear.
“I…um…I don’t mean to run off,” he starts. “But I just want to clean up and change.”
Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, and you start to giggle, patting his back.
He kisses you softly once, then twice before he pushes himself up but then he pauses, hovering above you, and as if he can’t bear to leave you his body covers yours again and he kisses you with more urgency.
When he pulls away his breathing is heavy, and his eyes are hooded.
“I want to stay with you tonight Bucky,” you whisper.
He watches you for a moment, never breaking eye contact, waiting for you to change your mind.
You stare right back and wait for his answer.
“If you stay…” he starts.
You’re already nodding. “I know.”
“I’m not going to be able to have you in my bed and not…I might not be able to go slow.”
You pull him down for another kiss. “I know.”
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
kajibunny · 5 months ago
Text
✶⋆.caught in the act ‼˚.⁺⊹(ren kaji x reader)
Tumblr media
✿ summary: this is the first time kaji ever ran out of lollipops. it is also the first time that kaji ever ran out of a room so fast after being caught making out with you. by umemiya and hiragi, no less. so how did you get yourselves into this predicament? ✿ contains: fluff but suggestive, getting caught making out with kaji, making out with kaji (lol), a little bit of crack if you imagine kaji’s reaction ✿ a/n: remember how kaji reacted and went (o_o) when he got caught by ume and hiragi talking with sakura on the rooftop? well, this is that, but make it spicy! lmao ;-; say it with me now: poor kaji! hahaha please accept my apology lollipop~ ✿ wc: 1k
Tumblr media
how could kaji be so careless?
it all started with you accompanying your boyfriend, ren kaji, to the furin high rooftop to grab a band-aid from the first aid kit. he got a small cut on his finger from trying to open his sixth lollipop of the day. you held his finger in your hands, as you wrapped it carefully with an adhesive bandage. 
kaji muttered a ‘thanks’ and outstretched his open hand to you, indicating that he was asking you for another lollipop. you were starting to think he was developing an addiction to that damned piece of rounded hard candy. he started depending on you to carry them for him too, since you two were always together anyway. also because you had a bag and sometimes he would lose them when they fell out of his hoodie pockets. 
“this can’t be.” you sighed in frustration, after going through all the pockets of your bag and finding out there were no more lollipops. 
he threw you a puzzled look. “what?” kaji peeked over your bag through your shoulder and realized what you meant. you gave kaji an apologetic look in return. “i’ve run out.” kaji shook his head in disbelief. “how is that even possible?” 
you huffed and crossed your arms. “it’s because you go through them way too fast! you’ve already had six of them today, even cut your finger from opening the wrapper.”
“so now it’s my fault?” kaji paused for a moment, and his narrowed eyes trailed down to your pouty lips, which gave him some sort of idea. kaji leaned in closer to you, a soft blush making its way to your face with the proximity of kaji’s mouth directly in front of yours. 
“i guess this’ll have to do for now.” he sighed as he tilted your chin and moved in for a kiss.
“ren, we could just buy one…” you murmured in between kisses. “no, i need something sweet in my mouth right now.” he stubbornly argued. 
he bit and sucked on your bottom lip as if you were his lollipop, and gripped your jaw to keep your head in place while he continued devouring your mouth, exploring your cavern as you melted into him, kissing him back with fervor and passion, the faint taste of sugar from his previous lollipop still lingering on his lips.
the kisses that you shared with kaji ranged from soft and gentle, to gradually escalating to being incredibly needy and passionate, leaving you breathless and head being filled with only him, like you are now, completely in the moment.
“ren…” you gasped, feeling his hands roaming your thighs, fingers slightly under the hem of your skirt, and at the same time his body is pressed up so closely against yours. you let out a small whimper. “we can’t…” 
“just a little more, i need my sugar fix…” he couldn’t bring himself to stop, and you didn’t have enough self-control to pull him away from you, as kaji’s kisses and touches felt too good, and how could he resist how sweet you looked and tasted? it’s like he was addicted to you, the craving he felt for you was even stronger than his craving for his lollipops. 
you two pulled away for a little bit for air but what kaji saw before him knocked the air right out of his lungs.
standing at a distance was umemiya, his hand covering his mouth after he had let out a tiny gasp. beside him was hiragi, whose jaw dropped to the ground as he fumbled in his pockets frantically looking for his stomach medications.
as bad as it sounded, you two were so focused and entangled in pleasure that it did not even occur that someone could possibly walk in, regardless if this was after school and mostly everyone had went home or gone on patrol. you and kaji pushed each other away like you were on fire. well, your cheeks were, anyway, burning so intensely from the huge blush that formed on it.
“ah, young love.” umemiya gushed. kaji was so frantic, that his eyes widened like saucers. 
“i was going to ask if you could take charge of patrol tomorrow, kaji. but it seems you’re already taking charge of something else…” hiragi cleared his throat and tried to hold back his amusement from the sheer look of shock present on kaji’s face. they both enjoyed teasing kaji, it seems. you were definitely in shock as well, as you bowed your head multiple times in apology to both umemiya and hiragi. 
they both told you it was absolutely fine, and hiragi apologized as well for walking in on both of you too, conking umemiya on the head with his fist for chuckling about how “grown up” kaji was now.
kaji, who had no idea what to say or how to react or how to look anyone in the eye ever again, quickly put on his headphones, grabbed your hand by the wrist and ran off with you, heading off to the convenience store to stock up on lollipops. lesson learned: never run out of them ever again. (although, the real lesson learned should be: don’t get caught making out in public ever again).
Tumblr media
ꕤ bonus ꕤ
the two of you decided to head to kaji’s house, an air of tension still looming over both of you from the embarrassment of being caught by umemiya and hiragi. while seated on his bed, kaji looked over at you like he wanted to say something but he stopped himself from doing so. 
you tried to lighten up the vibe with your humor. “by the way, i made sure to lock the door. i don’t think umemiya and hiragi would randomly walk into your bedroom, ren.” you placed your hand on top of his reassuringly. kaji finally looked up and his eyes met yours. deep down, he felt ashamed not just because the two of you got caught, but because the image of you in that state and your blissed out facial expression was supposed to be for kaji's eyes only.
“would…you like to continue from where we left off?” he asked, while you giggled and embraced him tightly. “hmm, where were we?” you grabbed kaji by the collar of his hoodie and pulled him in to give him another round of kisses. 
Tumblr media
© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved
1K notes · View notes
hannieehaee · 5 months ago
Text
BITE (teaser)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
18+ / mdi
summary: keeping appearances as an idol was already hard enough, but it becomes even worse upon finding a forlorn jeonghan with need of assistance with the company's faulty security system, instantly becoming endeared with the idol who refused to take no for an answer — not that you'd ever want him to.
content: idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, small age gap implied, afab reader, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is implied to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.
(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)
wc: 1.9k (teaser); 11.7k (full fic)
RELEASE DATE: september 6th
or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!
a/n: wrote this super quickly so it might be a little messy but i really love idol aus so yeah hope u enjoy<3
masterlist
support me through a one time tip<3
"Hey, is that Yoon Jeonghan from Seventeen?", asked Minji as she patted your shoulder, finger pointing towards your right.
"Who?", you wondered, attempting to make sense of the distressed man standing in front of the main artist elevators in the building, "Oh, yeah, I think that's him," you said once you spotted his face, deeming it impossible to not recognize a face such as his.
"Why is he just standing there?", she wondered, holding onto your arm in the affectionate manner she usually did, "Do you think it's that elevator thing again?" she faced you to ask.
"What elevator thing?"
"Apparently he went on a variety show and complained about the company's security system. It was a whole controversy, but I guess the facial recognition doesn't work for him for some reason," she informed you before chuckling at the sight of Jeonghan sighing in defeat at yet another failed attempt at utilizing the aforementioned system, "I thought it was a bit, but I guess he was for real."
"Huh," you hummed, having been unaware of the issue. The system worked just fine for you and all your members, so you never had any motive to question it. Your senior, however, had clear issues with the system. Within the two minutes you had noticed his presence, he had already attempted the facial recognition three times, getting rejected every single one of them.
"You should help him," your groupmate suggested, "I would, but my manager will be here soon for my shoot. You only have rehearsals today, right? You're heading that way anyway."
"What? No!" you declined, "I always get anxious around our seniors. I've never even met him," you added, far too shy to even face the pretty boy during his predicament.
Disconnecting from you, she grabbed onto your shoulders, scolding you, "Dude, just go help him! This is how you make connections. You give him a hand and then he gives you one back," she said, physically turning you around so you could face his direction, hands still on your shoulders, "Go! My ride's probably already here anyways. Good luck," she encouraged as she pushed you forward, making you absentmindedly begin walking towards the boy.
Taking a breath, you began to walk towards the boy who seemed to grow more and more frustrated at the faulty security system. The closer you got, the more you could hear his whines in complaint. It appeared that he had taken up a phone call during the time you'd been talking to your friend, frustratedly arguing with whoever was on the other line.
"Seokminnie, c'mon! Just come down! I'll buy you soju after practice," he whined, groaning at whatever response his groupmate had given him in return, "My manager already left ... Yeah .... No! Stop! Just come down! I'm your senior and- Wait! Don't hang up!", he groaned at last upon hearing the classic sound of a disconnected line invade his ears.
It was only then that he seemed to notice your presence, widening his eyes momentarily before offering you a brief bow to acknowledge your presence. Moving aside, he gave you enough space to stand in front of the elevator, quietly awaiting for you to utilize the security system, likely assuming you had not heard his prior predicament. He gestured for you to move forward, acting as if he were being a gentleman in allowing you to go first.
You approached the small facial recognition screen, about to scan your face before turning to him, finding the boy staring at you expectantly, "You need me in order to use the elevator, don't you?", you asked him, amused.
"Huh?", he gaped at you, tsk'ing afterward and making an odd 'Eyyy' sound, "I'm just being a gentleman. Go ahead," he gave you a tight yet amused smile.
You chuckled in return, "Liar," you were surprised at how easy it was to be informal with him, but he was immediately likable, "Ask me to help you and maybe I might," you added, giving him a satisfied smile.
"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm your senior — Whatever happened to respect?", he joked, tsk'ing at you once more. He proceeded to walk towards you, pushing his face onto the scanner and ignoring your presence altogether, "I'll do it, see," he practically challenged, attempting the scanner once more.
Unsurprisingly, he was met with a red X and a beeping sound that indicated yet another failure to be recognized by the system. This caused him to stand there in silence for a few seconds before whining 'Yah!' and cursing out the security system.
Clearing his throat, he straightened up again, facing you once more, "Sorry about that. Your turn," he gestured to you to move forward again, stepping out of your way.
Both amused and surprised, you decided to finally utilize the scanner on yourself, smiling at him with a satisfied look when it immediately allowed you in. Turning to him, you nodded at him to get in before you, only for him to gesture for you to go first. Something about 'ladies first.'
"You owe me one," you said once you were both in the elevator again, standing side by side as you faced the closing door.
"Nuh-uh. This was just a coincidence. You needed to head upstairs anyways," he rebutted petulantly.
"Yeah? So you don't need me to help you get to your floor, then, right?", you questioned mockingly, knowing he would also have to work the scanner in order to get the door to open to Seventeen's designated floor. There were far too many steps to get to the artists' floors, but it made sense to you by now.
Upon the realization, he groaned, letting himself throw his head back against the wall behind him as he earned a giggle from you. He frowned in your direction at your laugh, though he joined you with a chuckle just mere seconds later.
"Okay, fine. I owe you," he gave up, still leaning against the wall behind but turning his head to look at you, "What can Yoon Jeonghan do for you?"
You pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, finger on your chin as you thought it over, "I have no idea. I'll let you know," you finally responded, "Okay, so, what floor?", you asked as your finger moved to the buttons on the elevator door.
"13th," he responded, now casually leaning back against the wall.
"Oh? The second highest floor. You're an important man, aren't you?", you teased, pressing his button before moving onto your group's number 9.
"Nine?," he gaped, "Seems I'm higher on the company hierarchy than you, yet you show me no respect," he joked back.
"Shut up. I'm going out of my way for you. Senior or not, you owe me. Those are the rules of all civilized society," you argued back.
"Okay, how about," he began, pressing his hands together as if making a proposition, "I see you downstairs every morning bright and early with a fresh cup of coffee in exchange for your face — y'know, for the scanner. How's that sound?", he proposed, a pleased smile on his face at your agape mouth.
"Every morning? Do you not have any friends?", you asked as the elevator continued to move up.
"Do you see anyone here? They all get here before me. You seem pretty friendless. C'mon. Free coffee, good company. I'll even play one of your group's songs in my next Welive. See? Can't get any better than that," he continued to sell his idea as the elevator came to a stop, now at his floor but demanding yet another facial scan to even exit the elevator.
"God, the security's too much," he groaned upon noticing the prompt on the small screen inside the elevator, "C'mon!", he turned to you, "Try to tell me that's not unnecessary."
You gave up, nodding as you chuckled, though not making a move to scan your face.
"Say yes. Please," he dragged the e for an annoyingly long amount of time, grinning when you rolled your eyes but laughed, "I'll keep going. Just agree. What better way to spend your time than with Yoon Jeonghan?"
"What makes you think I even knew that name before today?", you challenged.
"You do. Don't lie to me, it won't work," he smirked back before going back to being annoying again, "Come on-"
"Fine! I'll meet you downstairs every morning expecting a fresh matcha in hand — I don't drink coffee. But you still owe me," you agreed, extending your hand to him to solidify the agreement.
"No coffee? Ew. But okay, deal," he returned your handshake, holding onto your hand for an annoying amount of time, pretending as if he were unaware of when to let go and waiting for you to pull his hand off yours with another eye roll. He chuckled any time he managed to get a reaction out of you, leading you to realize he must be an absolute menace to every person he comes across. Sadly, he was charmingly entertaining, leaving you with no complaints.
Finally, you scanned your face on the screen, letting him walk in front of you to head out. Before the elevator doors could close and separate again, he held his arm out to stop them, nodding towards you.
"What's your name? I like you," he said plainly, head tilted in curiosity.
"Y/N," you said, "Please don't introduce yourself again-"
"Yoon Jeonghan," he interrupted anyways, "Remember that. We'll be having fun in the near future," were his last words before removing his hand and allowing the elevator doors to separate you, likely heading over to his groupmates upon leaving your line of sight.
Silver doors closed in front of you, now leaving you to your own company. Dumbfounded yet amused by the interaction, you stood there as you waited for the elevator to arrive to your floor, robotically scanning your face on the door once you made it there and exiting the square-shaped room upon arrival. There, you stood with the remnant of a shocked smile on your face, surprised at how easy it had been to put any concept of age or seniority aside when interacting with Yoon Jeonghan. While you always had the tendency of being overly formal with your seniors, you had spoken to Jeonghan like you would any guy your age, disregarding formalities as soon as he'd spoken to you.
You didn't truly need any convincing to agree to see him again. On the contrary, had he not suggested as such, you would've remained with an itch to find a reason for a re-encounter. Like any other junior idol at a company with big names such as BTS and Seventeen, developing a slight crush on your seniors was the normalcy — your groupmates Minji and Lila had crushes on BTS' V and Seventeen's Vernon, respectively — and it appeared that you were now joining them in the list of girls with unrequited crushes.
Jeonghan was, what, maybe five or so years older than you? The age difference alone was enough for you to chalk this up to a mindless crush. That, and the kindergarten teacher voice he had put on while speaking to you — clearly he made a very obvious distinction about your age difference right off the bat.
As of now, all you could do was hope to see him again (which, thankfully, you would) and retain the fun back and forth he'd welcomed you in on. Friendzone was one thing, but junior-zone? At least you now had a story to let your members in on next dance practice.
...
you can check it out today on my patreon by subscribing!
reply if you'd like to be tagged upon its release on tumblr!
1K notes · View notes