#idk i am naive person
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Last micro grudge
#eldar#why did it almost wounded me?#idk i am naive person#wichie rants#hate internet intellectual dishonesty#do what you want to do#say what you really think
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
ohhh so this saga just will not end, okay!!!
last month I started an emergency fundraiser because the situation with my neighbor, who has been showing stalker-like behavior, escalated to the point where I no longer felt safe staying in my apartment. here's that original post
I'd remade my tiktok a few weeks ago after several years of inactivity to use for venting & vlogging. it had like no followers + just two videos uploaded. I got this text immediately after I saw him at the top of the stairs to the ground floor as I was coming back in from checking the mail. I had the "find by contacts" shit all turned off so idk HOW he found my tiny nothing tiktok (it's privated now) but he decided to send me this message about it. some of the things he mentioned in the text (like listening at my door???? I said listening to hear my door open/close but not listening at it) aren't even things I talked about which is also raising some alarm bells.
I haven't responded to his texts in months but he continues to send them and now it's shit like this. I am truly beyond words. it's incredible how the second he is confronted with how weird his behavior is I am "evil". I didn't film him, I didn't post any identifying information other than "my creepy upstairs neighbor" and now he is mad that the shoe fits when he's the one that tried it on.
My lease is up at the end of the month regardless, and I'm hunting for apartments actively. I need to get out of here, and I'm doing everything in my power to do that, but I need help with application fees, transportation and moving costs, and a deposit. I'm seeing a place on the 11th (tomorrow, as of when I write this) that seems promising and really hope it ends up being the one. I'm sorry I've had to post about this so much, but mutual aid has legitimately been the only way I have ever been able to pull myself out of a hole like this. even just a few dollars does help.
v3nm0 is alumirust c4sh4pp is $doppelgougar p@yp44l is [email protected] buy some of my art GFM fundraiser link
#could it be that I- a chaser harassing this random trans person- am in the wrong?#No. It's clearly the random trans person I have arbitrarily decided is everything I need in life despite being young enough to be my child#who is at fault here!#fucking. hell.#he knows I have ptsd from domestic violence btw I talked about it to him once before he was overtly creepy and i thought i could trust him#he literally started being worse AFTER that and i was like oh. oh that was a mistake and im naive.#idk its a nightmare i really want to be over with soon
482 notes
·
View notes
Text
Half the internet talking about how we just need to be more niceys to men and misogyny is the fault of mean internet feminists and the other half going "Let's try seperatism again!" I'm so tired. I want to be in community with men, especially marginalized men whose political goals align with mine, while trusting that any critique of misogyny won't immediately turn them into fascists. Is that too much to ask?
#feminism#misogyny#sexism#both 'all the young boys are buying into violent misogyny because a leftist tweeted she hates men'#and 'men are inherently unsafe stop having relationships with them'#assume that men are categorically incapable of caring about something for a reason other than personal gain#it's either:#the left must appeal to men (not based on their race or class or other forms of marginalziation- no. specifically benefit men as a class)#because they'll never care about misogyny if there's nothing in it for them#OR it's:#stop giving men anything they want. because they'll never care about misogyny unless there's something in it for them.#am i naive??? for believing you can teach someone to care about other people?#I feel like even progressives barely believe in the idea of a male feminist anymore#because apparently they think male feminists must constantly be assured that they're one of the good ones or else they'll become a fascist#idk... that doesn't sound much like a feminist to me#the thing is that if i take half a step back i'm like obviously this is possible i literally already know men like this.#the problem is that they're a small minority but it handily proves this isn't an inherent issue.#of course it isn't i dont believe in gender essentialism!#but internet discourse pretending men are the only demographic categorically incapable of allyship makes me question myself sometimes
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
some more ghost rider sketches, version i guess i wanted to draw some bones,
including a partial prototype of whatever the hell the Rider has going on underneath his skin-suit (which might need more leather 'muscles' but. whatever), a theoretical endpoint of how dead Robbie could get in my verse, which. unlikely? extremely. but fun to draw, and a line-up of Robbie, Lisa, and Gabe
in theory, Lisa's sense of style was inspired by @wazzappp 's post of Claire's fashion Lisa, but, well, outfit design eludes me. so. brightly colored vague y2k vibes are. the best i got
#robbie reyes#gabe reyes#lisa (ghost rider)#revenant robbie au#i am fully just drawing whatever at this point but. its fun so idk#ANYWAY i read the avengers 2018 run and. ok it was bad#both generally and also. sob they hit robbie with the generic mcu-quippification and naive teenager beam 😔#absolutely no escape#but challenge of the ghost rider kind of hit tbh#if only bc it had robbie racing blaze for Gabe's sake and well.#ok objectively idk how his parents got pulled to hell like.#were they supposed to be there?#did johnny drag them from another afterlife?#idk at all#but *man* ok im not immune to family/loved ones finding out about a fave being a 'monster'#and accepting him anyway ok#so long story short idk if im gonna go with an exorcised-eli yet or not#but i gave robbie a rosary (not accurate. yes i know i didnt get the spacing on the top part right) on account that#religious iconography in marvel works based on a personal faith#re that one panel of kitty pryde burning dracula with a star of david#so i figure there's a high chance that robbie was raised roman catholic when his parents were around#even if that was a long time ago#and even if he doesnt believe/is religious in the strictest sense#he still has associations yk?#(<to be clear speaking as another mexican american and the impacts of religion in the culture as a kind of atheist)#anyway my point is#in a non-exorcism version hes found that wearing a rosary. even if it doesnt shut eli up entirely#makes him more? bearable? less loud/oppressive? easier to push down#while in an exorcism version ig it helps with keeping his identity as robbie centered and dealing with supernatural emotional regulation#zsketches
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm all for romantic gestures in fic and I'm not complaining (esp. if this amazing author ever saw this!) But I am just too cynical for spending over $1k and 4 flights to stop someone's wedding when like... are they meeting you even slightly halfway? I know it's gonna have a happy ending but still reading I'm like Don't Do It
#i guess belief in happy endings only goes so deep#that reminds me of the thing kirsten doesn't remember saying#about showing up at her door with flowers#I guess there's like#a romantic trope of fighting for someone#of upping your romantic gestures in response to things like rejection#but i don't think i believe in that?#like am i not supposed to respect people's decisions?#like is it naive to think if someone wants to choose you they should do it without needing you to fight#because who are you fighting#the person you want to love you?#idk seems fucked up#in this fic it's more fighting through the abuse and brainwashing i guess#eddie did not reject richie he's just having trouble being brave i guess#honestly I would love if next chapter we find out he called off the wedding#meet richie partway?? please?
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#hi i think im like over thinking and stuff so like i am here instead of on my main cause like the cat image gave me like too many followers#but like i think that i was like too trusting with my guy friends and like even tho a few of them r like super great and i love them so much#im still like :/ huh i really just let them be like weird and stuff and like idk i feel like im always weird in december cause like#one of them like was talking to me so much and i was like super happy and stuff cause like im kinda a lonely person so i was like !!!#but then it kinda got more uh close and i was like uhhhh ok ig and then all of a sudden he like ghosted me#and im not gonna go into detail cause like its not really a big thing but like i just think im soooo gullible and naive all the time#cause like i know stuff but im just like oh whatever! and then im right about someone and its like brooooo come onnnn >:P#but like also one of my irl friends follows me on my main so i dont want them to see that im still thinking about this cause no im not :)
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
bf situation update. he genuinely lost interest in us, sadly.
and im... surprisingly calm abt the fact we gonna have the talk tomorrow.
i mean i am stressed kinda. but not choking on my guilt or so called ego neither want to hurt myself or anyone, so is not anger fueled.
still. i just want the answers, what and when got spoiled..? i want truth and straightforward explanation what we doing wrong. and will see what he wants. for now i only know i worry too much from his pov.
i don't want to expect too much. but i wish it gonna be a serious mature talk for once. and probably our first and last video call...?
wish i could call him a coward but it would be inappropriate before the final decision. ik what im exactly upset about. but i want the feedback about things i did too...
it was always akward and... kinda one sided. i putted lots emotional work yes, but didnt get same in response.
weird thing is, i miss him lots, on daily basis, i miss things we could have be doing if we lived in same area or at least same country. i miss things that didn't happened yet,huh
so i wonder, is there anything to grieve if there were no promises? my instinct is to grieve but why..
do i still see the potential in him, that's the good question. i wonder if he ever thinks abt things like that. at the end, do i deserve being his friend,does me deserve being mine...
i love my bestfriends and im super open about that, and serious about keeping them in my life, taking care of them, keeping track what's going on in their life. it is important to me. but I can be too stubborn about wanting platonic affection - yes, affection, not attention. im a sucker for platonic affection, silly nicknames, listening to each other's real needs, hugs and playful fights. and im open about that.
he's... idk. mean and sarcastic about, with and toward his friends. I don't think i could stand being called a bitch or smth worse by them. i would never be a part of their friend group anyway and i was told that cuz apparently he's embarrassed of me.
that hurts more than not being liked in romantic way. idc that much about romantic attraction n he knows that. honesty is bare minimum i want with ppl. that and wanting genuine friendly connection. so it can't be forced.
so that why im upset. i feel like he forces himself to like me. wow, i finally worded it properly...
wish me luck tomorrow, weirdos (not in mean way). ah right, and having a silly call today with my bestriend yayyy! >< need to recharge before that lol
#oh gosh that turned so long#lmao#just needed to get this off my chest#hopefully it makes sense#or maybe not#am i naive actually#idk#me being an idiot#vent#personal#relationships#aromantic spectrum#aroflux#asocial#anxious avoidant#serious talk#queer#deadalienspace
0 notes
Text
a while ago friends and i were discussing whether we want kids someday and whether one should put kids into this world considering how messed up everything is and how much worse things are likely going to get. and then we started thinking about how much we value our own lives sort of in the bohemian rhapsody "i don't wanna die, i sometimes wish i'd never been born at all" kind of way. and then one of my friends said something along the lines of "even if everything went downhill for us, i still wouldn't want to miss out on life". i was tearing up. idk, i'm never optimistic like that but i think it's worth it to remind oneself of everything that's beautiful in life (?)
#idk the way he said it sounded much more meaningful and better than i am wording it here#i don't remember his exact words#depending on my mood i either find his statement really naive/ignorant or i feel it in my bones when i think of it#something i think about every now and again....#personal
1 note
·
View note
Text
anyways i was speaking to a friend the other day (yesterday????) and have come to the realization that the year before graduation curse has struck me again
#i. in ALL my school years. have mever had a good hear before graduation#fourth grade? terrible. i got forcibly introduced to social situations i had to navigate that i didnt understand nor care abt#AND had the worst teacher in my life who genuienly hated me personally#seventh grade? crash course into bullying and also learning to Be A Person#would not recommend#eleventh grade? gun to my head i could not tell you anything meaningful that happened to me that year beyond having a breakdown in the girls#bathroom bc there was something incredibly wrong with me and school was no longer easy (adhd my beloved)#AND also new social situations AGAIN and being forcibly befriended with people that in hindsight i didnt actually like very much#AND the stress of college and sats and ap tests and acts and everything and trying to figure out what kind of future i envisioned for myself#when i had literally never thought abt my future beyond what classes i take next school year#this year? i dont know what the fuck is happening but it is perhaps a combination of the covid lockdowns and having like. zero friends. and#also again trying to figure out what future i envision myself that is Not working a retail job for the rest of my life bc i kind of#cant care less#now i am not naive enough to believe medicine would fix me#however i think adhd meds would in fact fix me#i dont think im experiencing shrimp emotions#i think im experiencing like. amoeba emotions#or like. the ant that for one brief second understood what it is like to be a human#and then is forever left with the haunting feeling of wrongness#otherwise known as cosmic horror. or like worm emotions idk#michi tag#anyways. its five am god help me
0 notes
Text
Crawling back to you
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up
Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?
You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.
The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.
You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.
But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.
And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.
You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.
But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.
You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.
You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.
So you ran away.
Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.
"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”
You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?
There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”
JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”
There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.
"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."
Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”
“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”
“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”
God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”
His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.
“I always want to see you.”
You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.
You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"
JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."
You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"
"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.
You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”
Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.
“I was,” he says softly.
There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”
“But now I don’t want to.”
There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.
You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.
But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.
Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.
His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”
Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”
“You’re even prettier than I remember.”
The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.
“Spencer. Don’t.”
“What?”
“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”
He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”
You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”
"What have you been up to?"
"Work."
"Anything new?"
"No."
He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"
You frown. “Huh?”
“Girlfriend?”
"Spencer."
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"Spencer."
He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."
“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”
His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”
“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.
He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”
“You look funny.”
A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”
“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”
"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”
You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."
"I ran through the sprinklers."
The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?
“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"
You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.
He wasn’t alone.
You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.
"It's not what you think," he slowly says.
You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."
"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”
“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”
You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”
You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.
You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.
He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”
You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”
“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.
You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”
"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."
You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.
"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."
The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.
Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?
You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?
Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything
You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.
Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.
He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.
At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.
A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.
You reach for the bottle of wine instead.
The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.
You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.
You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.
You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”
He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”
You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.
“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”
He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”
"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.
"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”
“Which isn’t necessary.”
“But appreciated, I hope.”
You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.
You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”
He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.
“Do you want anything to drink?”
He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."
You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.
“So, what do you want to talk about?”
He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"
You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”
"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"
“I remember."
His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”
You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”
"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."
"I really wanted kimchi."
"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”
You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"
He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”
“That you’re craving for Korean?”
He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”
There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.
“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."
He nods slowly. “I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”
His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”
“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”
“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”
You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”
The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”
His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.
“I could never hate you."
You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”
He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”
If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?
You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.
“You know it’s never going to work.”
He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”
“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”
“How did we function?”
“Based on sex.”
“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”
“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."
“Why not?”
“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.
“Because the idea still terrifies you?”
You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”
The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”
"Oh I can name a few."
He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”
You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.
"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"
“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”
"You really think you can convince me?"
"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"
That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”
You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”
“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”
"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”
His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.
“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”
"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”
His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.
"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.
You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.
“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”
You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."
"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.
You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."
There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"
You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"
“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"
“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”
“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”
“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”
He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”
“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”
His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"
You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.
“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"
He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.
“But what if it does?”
All you can do is stare at him.
“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”
His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.
And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.
And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"
Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.
You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”
You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.
His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.
"Can I kiss you?"
You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.
The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.
This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.
There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.
Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.
He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.
Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”
His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”
He pauses for a moment. “Really?”
“If you want to.”
A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”
You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.
“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.
“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”
“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”
His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"
In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.
Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.
You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.
"Maybe."
His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”
You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.
You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.
“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.
“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”
You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”
He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.
“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.
You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.
It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.
“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”
You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.
“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?
Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.
There’s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.
He kisses the spot between your breasts.
“You’re always so pretty.”
He gives a soft peck just above your heart.
“So incredibly beautiful.”
Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.
He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.
He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.
Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”
He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”
You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”
A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”
You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”
He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”
Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.
It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?
He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”
You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”
He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”
He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”
“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”
If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”
You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”
“Then you’ll have me.”
You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.
There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.
You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.
And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.
You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”
"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.
Your grip in his hair tightens.
“Spencer…”
“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.
Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.
“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”
It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”
He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”
“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”
The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”
“Even up to a thousand?”
“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”
You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”
He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”
A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?
And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?
You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”
He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.
Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.
The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.
It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”
“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”
He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.
He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”
You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.
"Wait."
Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"
His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”
Shit. Neither did you.
You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”
“I was too focused with you."
And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”
“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”
“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”
He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”
“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”
He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”
“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”
“Pretty sure?”
You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”
The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”
“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”
He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”
An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”
You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”
He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.
Your walls squeeze around him.
“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”
You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”
He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.
“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.
Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.
“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”
You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”
“Do you think I can move?”
“Please.”
There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.
And truthfully, neither can you.
But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.
It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.
No more running away, you decide.
“Kiss me.”
He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.
“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”
You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.
“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.
He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”
You whine in approval.
The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.
You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”
But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”
He’s more than happy to oblige.
He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.
“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”
You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”
It’s enough to push you both over the edge.
The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.
Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.
You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.
He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.
You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.
“What?”
His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”
Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”
"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"
You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”
He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."
“And that makes you what, exactly?”
“Essentially indispensable.”
“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”
A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”
You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”
He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.
Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.
You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.
You quickly turn over to the other side.
“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”
He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.
“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”
That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”
You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”
“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”
You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.
“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”
When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.
Until now, maybe.
“Do you think I should climb out the window?”
You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”
“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”
You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”
“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”
You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"
Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.
But it's not your brother.
It's far worse.
You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.
“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”
You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.
“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.
"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."
The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”
Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”
But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.
Your heart leaps into your throat.
“Shit.”
“I should have climbed out the window.”
The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."
You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.
That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.
“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”
He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“
Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.
“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”
He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”
You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.
You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.
“Please don’t be mad.”
You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.
“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.
“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”
“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”
“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”
“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.
“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”
You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.
He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.
“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”
“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”
“Clearly,” he deadpans.
You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.
“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”
To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.
“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”
Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.
You clear your throat. “Last night.”
"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"
"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."
“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”
“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”
You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.
“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”
Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”
Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”
Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”
You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.
“It’s what I want.”
Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”
“In a good way?”
“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”
“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”
“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”
Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.
You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”
Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.
“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”
You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.
You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.
And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—
“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”
If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.
Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”
You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”
He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.
“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.
“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.
“It wasn’t.”
“Spencer, he held a gun.”
“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”
“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”
“He likes me.”
He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”
He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”
“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”
“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”
“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”
“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“And what makes you so sure?”
Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.
“Because I’m your mushroom.”
He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.
“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.
And you don’t mind him keeping it.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencerreid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#Fanfiction#gifwriting
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
What are your attractive qualities/ features
How to choose a pile?
Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.
Masterlist
Paid services
Pile 1
Hello! welcome to your reading, the first message i got while channeling is that you guys may have a slim and long neck, you may not be aware of this yet but a lot of people find that attractive, your long neck makes you appear more confident as it makes you look taller. And your upper body is also really attractive. The way your body is shaped attracts a lot of attention from others. Another things is your straightforwardness, the way you are able to communicate clearly without stumbling over your words and your assertiveness makes people want to follow whatever you say. I am also picking up on the message that you guys have a contagious smile, and a lotof people find your smile really attracttive, the way you smile with your entire face makes you appear really adorable. You guys are really pure and filled with love, others can feel it in your energy and it makes people want to stay in your circle as long as they can but you may attract a lot of energy vampires, so be extra careful of who you let into your circle. You guys have really pretty hair, you may like to experiment a lot with your hair and i am mostly picking up on flowy long hair. You may like to put really clips and bows in your hair. You exude soft girl energy.
Pile 2
Heyyyy! The first message i am picking up on is that you have a great sense of style, a lot of people may try to copy your signature style which may annoy you a lot. I am also gettting that the way you walk attracts a lot of attention. People may compliment the way you walk or they may ask you if you are a dancer because of the way you carry yourself. I see that you are really in tune with your higher self or universe whatever you wanna call it, and people can sense that. People can feel that you are meant for something great in this life. I am also getting that you are really lucky, everything seems to work out in your favour. people feel like you have an easy life. You may have north node in your 10th house. I am also getting that you guys have a really prominant nose and people love your side profile. if you wear nose ring people find that really attractive. I am also picking up on the message that you have really pretty handwriting. you can literally open a youtube channel for writing. I am also picking up on the message that you may like swimming? or surfing, idk but it has something to do with ocean and a lot of people find this attractive.
Pile 3
Welcome to your reading pile3! I see that you guys are really artistic and dreamy. A lot of people find you otherworldly and ethereal. i see that you may have really pretty eyes or watery eyes. Your eyes make you seem really innocent and naive. Your another attractive feature is your fun loving personality, I am getting the message that you have a bubbly personality and just by being in your circle people feel uplifted. However, I also see that you may attract emotionally distant or unavailable people who dont want to deal with their emotions. Your energy is really addictive and people may get obbsessed with having you by their side but not wanting to put efforts you deserve. You also give off really rich vibes. People may think that you come froma rick family or you yourself are really sufficient. Your feminity is your attractive feature, the way you take care of people, the way you are always ready to offer love and light to people. Alot of people may see you as an angel. Another message i am picking up on is that you guys are quite intiutive and others can feel your high vibrational energy. Your eyes are your most attractive feature.
#tarot reading#tarot cards#pick a card#free readings#free tarot#tarot#pick a pile#tarotblr#pick a picture#pick a photo#tarotcommunity#tarotwithavi#tarotwisdom#tarot witch#tarot readings#tarot deck
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
I AM SO OBSESSED WITH YOUR DELIA OMG. Like okay let me gush for a second, you have galaxy brain reads on every pokemon character, they all follow their character notes closely but with like an extra dose of empathy and insight compared to what's in the show, like, "oh, yeah, that IS how they'd be as a real complex person"--like, I love how your Ash is this great mix of the empathy and hopefulness that are his main traits from the show but *also* feels properly like a 10 year old (in a way that respects the intelligence of 10 year olds!!) instead of having the blanks in his personality kind of filled in by the generic rules laid out by "shonen protagonist"
BUT DELIA OMG SHE'S MY FREAKING FAVORITE. I LOVE THE BIT in the cassidy arc where cassidy's like "I see what you're doing" and Delia's like "Shrug! :)" and omg why is that perfect?? Like...one consistent theme you bring out in Delia is that she's so cozy with, and empathetic towards, her humanity. It shows up in her sexuality and how unafraid of it she is and how much she treats it as normal and not-shameful (which I find so healing), and I think what rings with me in the Cassidy bit is that she feels exactly the same way about her being a little catty towards Cassidy. She embraces her own emotional stake in the whole thing with so much love and so much acceptance that it's an okay thing for her to be. I love her. I love your comics. I hope you do lots more.
oh my gosh thank you for such a thoughtful and kind message 😭
I’m so glad you enjoy how I write these characters! I do my best to stay as true to them as possible but it makes me so happy that you also enjoy when I deviate a little bit.
Delia’s such a lovely character and it’s sad there’s so little about her outside of the novels. I’m glad my take on Delia still feels Delia even though I am filling in blanks haha. She definitely strikes me as the type who is ditzy but wiser than she lets on and knows herself, and her emotions especially, very well. She’s kind, and since she’s young, she’s a little naive but not at all a pushover. Idk she’s so fun to write!!
Thanks for reading my little comics 😭😭😭
403 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ten messages channeled from your FS/Soulmate/Next partner (18+) MATURE
Hello, I LAUNCHED MY PATREON. IF YOU SUBSCRIBE YOU CAN GET A READING DONE BY ME THROUGH TIER 2. YOU WILL GET ACCESS TO EXCLUSIVE READINGS THAT WON'T BE UPLODED ON MY TUMBLR!
patreon.com/InnerViper
I will try to get through tier 2 readings ASAP. I will also be uploading readings on Patreon every week. Tarot games will be held monthly, with a bonus of special divination methods that are outside of tarot. The focus of my Patreon will be sexual topics but I am open to non-sexual topics, once every blue moon. I hope you guys enjoy it!
Maybe I'll start going live to do paid live readings on here lol??
WARNING: Possessiveness/Controlling behavior...
PILE 1
"I just want to give to you, please accept this!"
"Don't focus on them, focus on me"
"Come on this trip with me to Eurpoe, I don't want to leave you behind"
"Relax, I want to massage you"
"Take a deep breath because I want to fuck you hard”
“Don’t pay attention to her, you have me”
“Suprise, I have more gifts in the back and no you aren’t allowed to decline”
“Do you want to try out bondage? I just want to tie you up and fuck you fast and hard”
“You look innocent, can you give me head? I just like it when you stare up at me with that look”
“Don’t turn away, stop acting as if you aren’t being seduced by me right now”
Very playful and sensual energy. You will have fun in your relationship. A lot of sweet and funny moments here, and lots of making out.
WARNING: Possessiveness/Controlling behavior...
PILE 2
“I work hard for you, please let me fuck you now” “Fuck baby you are so fucking hot” “You act as if I am going to let you run free, I will chase you down” “Fuck what everyone thinks, I have you all to myself now” “I can protect you from anyone, don’t worry about a single thing with me at your side” “You are the only person in this fucking world to have my whole heart” “I came to see you tonight, let's go because I have an adventure planned” “Fuck you make me so horny” “I am your sex slave” “No one can have you but me, come let me fuck you hard tonight baby”
This person is very masculine, your man is very much possessive of you. He can be controlling so watch out, but I am seeing that he does really like you too much LMFAO. Whatever floats your boat?! IDK
PILE 3
“Look at me, stare into my eyes as I fuck you right here” “You have everyone staring at you, but you are mines” “I can get you anything you want, stop worrying about spending money” “You really don’t things through, I just want you to focus on what you are saying to me right now” (This is playfully being said, you may be naive sort of innocent to sex topics LOL) “I have so many fantasies of us babe” “I want to search every inch of your body to see what makes you cry out loud” “Fuck, the way you stroke me makes me hard as fuck” “I want to make you pregnant” “You are so fucking hot, I am dating the hottest girl/boy in the world” “Let's roleplay fwb? Pretend you don’t like me” (They are saying to act cold/hard to get LOLLL) You will have such a blast with them. They are a very FUNNY ASS PERSON. They also know how to RIZZ YOU UPPPPP
#pagan witch#pick a pile#pick a card#pac#tarot#tarot cards#witchcraft#tarot pick a card#fs reading#soulmates#hellenic pagan#pac reading#pick a card reading#pac tarot#pac future spouse#divine female#divine masculine
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 | 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚘𝚔𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚢𝚞𝚞
synopsis: You thanked the deities above you that you had noticed the rope that hung from Tomioka’s sleeves, eyeing you with compulsion. You knew it was only for missions, like if he had to tie someone up if they weren’t cooperating, but your mind went elsewhere and who could blame you? That’s why he’s laid out like this now, the shibari technique threaded down his chest, against his thighs... he was the perfect art form waiting to be painted with watercolors.
warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, hashira!reader, shibari (or bondage), grinding (against one of the rope knots), teasing, dirty talk, slight dom!reader, slight sub!giyuu, begging, rope markings, gagging with rope, a quick mention about edging, p in v intercourse, riding, creampie, giyuu and reader are a couple, naive giyuu who just doesnt know how to socialize, shinobu outs the reader’s crush, alludes to giyuu being able to tear rope likes its fucking paper, (no idea how to put this as a warning but cbt?? reader presses her knee to giyuu’s cock a little too hard, but he’s a slut for it), pet names (princess, baby), use of honorifics in the beginning part.
a/n: so you guys can thank the inosuke scene and a random person on reddit for this. Like you know what, why does giyuu carry rope on him, idk but here’s food for thought. wc: 1.3k. m.list
divider credit: @benkeibear
It wrapped around him with intricate lines and tight knots adorning the middle of his chest. You were proud of your art, of your boy, laying against the sheets with nothing but the best shibari work entwined against him. You made sure you secured the knots, even double checking them, there was no way he would be able to get out of the soft embrace of the ropes.
Days prior, you found out he carried rope with him on his missions and you were more than intrigued, for all the wrong (right) reasons of course. You knew he was quiet and well kept, nothing out of the ordinary ever really piqued your interest to bother him on dangerous missions until you saw the rope hanging from one of his haori sleeves. You swore at first you saw a thread loose, but upon further inspection you realized.
“Tomioka-kun, you carry rope on you?” You asked, an innocence veiling your voice.
“And you don’t?” He didn’t snap at you, it was more of a question answering yours as he kept his hand still on the hilt of his katana.
You stepped over a rock, humming to yourself whilst following him down the forest path. “I don’t believe I would ever have to tie someone up.”
“You’d be surprised.” He muttered as he stuffed the rope back into his haori sleeve, the rest of it flowing with him as he sensed danger at the edge of the trees. “Stay close to me, princess.”
You genuinely loved Tomioka, though you knew he didn’t pick up on it during the first few months he knew you. He seemed oblivious to a lot of social norms and tended to isolate him away from the Hashira group when everyone trained together. But you tried to stay as close as possible, offering him traditional gifts and food every chance you got. He took it with an aloof thanks, still so seemingly confused about why you cared so much about him.
Until Kocho told him flat out at one of the meetings in front of everyone. You covered your face within your haori as the other Hashira muttered little sayings amongst each other. And there was Tomioka, blushing like an idiot and trying to apologize for being so naive. He stumbled over every word and chased after you as you ran towards the bridge that cascaded the water.
“Y/N-san!” He caught up to you, his breath wavering as he slipped his fingers around your wrist. “I apologize for Kocho, she’s quite crude, isn’t she?”
“I’m used to it.” You wiped the tears from your eyes as you looked over to him and you swore you saw his heart break in two.
“So am I.”
And here you were a few months later, learning shibari techniques as Giyuu laid out his entire body to you. He was naked from the waist up, the rope denting his skin and his boxers bunched against them except for the sleek waistband that crowded against his waist.
“I can tear these easily, baby.” Giyuu said, looking at you with a straight face. You frowned at your partner, smacking him on his bare thigh and he jerked it away with a silent chuckle. His hair came to lay against his back, out of the ponytail he normally wore and you tangled your fingers in it for a moment, reveling in the way he gasped as you suddenly pulled it.
“Well, don’t. I tried really hard to make you look pretty underneath me.” You pouted, leaning over his face. He yearned for your kiss, but he knew he wasn’t going to get your soft lips on his anytime soon. Not when your hands held extra rope that was pushed into the crook of his mouth, his teeth baring down onto it. He groaned around it and you tutted at him sharply.
“Stay still or I won’t ride you.” You said plainly, kissing at the flesh of his thigh as you looped a part of the rope around it. Your fingers then ghosted over the swell of his cock and he breathed out a light sigh, relief about flooding through him; but they moved past to pull another knot against his thigh.
“Please, it’s enough...” He said slowly, trying to enunciate properly but failing as a tiny groan escaped him from you pinching his inner thigh. “I want you on top of me.”
“What’d you say, couldn’t hear you properly?” You finished the knot and sat against it, grinding onto the knot on his thigh with a purposeful smirk. You let out a moan as the knot knocked directly against your clit as you rolled your hips onto it. “C’mon baby, use your words.”
Giyuu watched you with wide eyes and he threw his head back against the pillows as your knee pushed up against his cock, pleasure shooting up his spine. He panted out around the rope as you continued, pressing your shin into him harshly. His eyes squeezed shut and he trembled, wishing to so desperately touch you and get you to sit on him already but his hands had been bound by his back.
“Oh you’re really enjoying yourself, aren't you?” You cooed, trailing your finger down the knots on his chest; some had been adorned within a heart while others were a typical knot. You smiled at the redness that laid beneath it, digging into his skin and you knew they’d leave marks only you could see afterwards. He practically writhed against you know, so fucking desperate, you knew once you sank down on his cock he wasn’t going to last very long. You’ve been edging him for hours prior whilst you tied the knots after all.
You pulled down his boxers, letting his cock spring out onto the flat of his tummy and you noticed how much precum had leaked out of him during your teasing and rope knots. You kinda felt bad for him and you crawled over him, pulling your lace aside to take him into your entrance. “Fuck, I’m sorry Giyuu.”
“Please, please, fuck me already.” He pleaded around the rope, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and you sank down in earnest. A long moan was drawn out from him and he thrusted up into your tight heat, nearly knocking you off of him. You steadied yourself on his chest, looking at him as he twitched inside you. His blue eyes were half-lidded, lust clouding them over and you rolled against him slowly so as to not overwhelm him too much.
He bucked up in time with your hips and you clenched around him each time, hurtling towards your own orgasm as you picked up the pace. Whimpers and pleads slurred from his mouth the best he could and you were so grateful that the boy underneath you had been kind to your advances, once Kocho told him.
You were absolutely in love with him.
You felt his hips falter underneath you and you watched as Giyuu arched into his orgasm with a loud whine, his mouth open and the rope falling from it. You followed right after, bouncing on his cock at a fast pace as he whimpered at the oversensitivity. A few moments later, you moved off of him and his cum dripped out of you, down your leg and you cursed quietly.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He apologized, his hair disheveled and there was a shine to his skin, as if he had been sweating. “I couldn’t help it.”
“It’s okay.” You smiled at him, moving to start untying the ropes that littered his body. “I think we’re done for tonight, okay?”
You kissed him gently and Giyuu nodded into it, love intertwining your tongue with his. Yeah, thank God for Kocho Shinobu. And thank God for the rope that fell from his haori, threaded with dirty thoughts.
a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!
#𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 •┈••✦#giyuu x reader#giyuu x you#giyuu x y/n#giyu x reader#giyu x you#giyu x y/n#giyu smut#giyu tomioka#demon slayer smut#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x you#demon slayer x female reader#giyu x female reader#giyuu x female reader#kny x reader#kny smut#kny giyuu#kny x y/n#kny x you#kny x female reader#fem reader#𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 ✰
343 notes
·
View notes
Text
Astarion should have had a post-Araj conversation (that doesn’t lock in the romance) AND the unprompted confession
You might have noticed that Patch 3 changed Astarion’s romance progression a bit. Previously, if you had entered Moonrise and had high enough approval with Astarion, he would approach the MC at a long rest and confess his manipulations and growing feelings towards the player character. It’s such a beautiful scene and is so well acted. Now that confession is tied to after you kill Yurgir and if you haven’t talked to Araj in Moonrise.
I actually kind of like his confession being tied to progressing his personal quest, and if you think about it an early admission in Act 2 does seem kind of quick based on his past/struggles.
Buuut, I am disappointed that if you talk to Araj early-on you can lock in the romance then and you won’t get the unprompted confession later on, because I think that scene is much stronger from a ROMANCE and partnership perspective.
Araj Conversation
The post-Araj conversation is an amazing moment for Astarion’s development and arc. His realization that he never stopped acting like a slave. His decision to stand up for himself and advocate for what he wants. It’s so powerful. It’s a critical moment for Astarion and his journey to be free from Cazador.
Honestly, I think tying it to the romance really cheapens it and creates an initially one-sided dynamic for his romance.
These are the dialogue options after he thanks you:
The first 3 options lead to him opening up more about his feelings and this line:
After this, if you want to progress the romance you tell him you care for him and it leads to the hug scene/whatever option you want.
BUT HE NEVER MENTIONS MANIPULATING YOU and that he's developed feelings. Hello Astarion!? I feel like that's kinda important to the dynamic here! With these options, poor Tav is left in the dark because it doesn’t come up again really.
Now, if you pick the last option: Why sleep with me?
You get these lines:
(His face lmao, smug little bastard)
His line delivery here is interesting. He’s very matter-of-fact about it. He’s like “duh! I was using you and it was easy”.
Depending on how you're RPing your MC this pretty rough lol. A naive and good-hearted Tav may have actually thought there was something there.
And these are the dialogue options to respond to it. That’s it. No pushback from Tav. They can end things, just be friends, or progress the relationship. Idk it’s just not my favorite.
Unprompted Confession
Compare that to the unprompted confession.
He approaches Tav. He confesses the manipulation and what I think is super important he is THINKING about Tav’s feelings: “You deserve something real.”
And what I love is that Tav can choose to immediately confess their feelings or push back a little here:
I think this is a much better dynamic between potential partners. Options 2 + 3 really give more context to his feelings and also allows Astarion to reiterate his positive feelings towards MC.
Up until this point in the relationship, the MC has given a lot to Astarion, and Astarion hasn’t given much back beyond sex. Tav has listened to Astarion open up about Cazador, protected him from the monster hunter, helped with his scars, the mirror conversation, let him drink from them (potentially), and supported the endeavor with Raphael.
I think this conversation is Astarion acknowledging all that and him giving something back in return by being honest with his feelings, even if there is a chance he’ll get nothing out of it.
I think this why people love the Durge x Astarion romance so much because it offers more give and take between the two, and depending on which confession scene you get with Tav it is a very one-sided dynamic in comparison.
The second scene a MUCH better foundation for something to develop between the two in my opinion.
Final Thoughts
I think the Araj scene should happen regardless but with the romance portion omitted. Of course, I think Astarion should still break up with MC if they made him drink, force him to have sex, or give Tav an option to end it as well if this isn't something they want to involve themselves in.
Then, I think you should get the actual confession after defeating Yurgir. I think it makes sense that after Tav has advocated for Astarion’s autonomy and helped with his scars he realizes his feelings.
Big thanks to these Youtube channels here and here for the screenshots. My saves are a mess and I didnt want to fight with it.
#astarion#bg3 spoilers#bg3#astarion romance#astarion x tav#astarion x mc#astarion ancunin#astarion x dark urge#bg3 astarion#bg3 mine
414 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lights | Episode 1 | jjk (m)
❀ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Producer! F. reader
❀ Summary: Meeting Jungkook was a chance of fate. A moment frozen in time, eyes meeting across a room full of lights. The more the two of you advance in your career, the more lost in the lights you become. What if you never find your way back?
❀ Word Count: 15,069
❀ Genre: Heavy angst, Idolverse, strangers to lovers, eventual smut
❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
❀ Warnings: Discussions of manipulation in the music industry, there are gentle hints at the potential for Jungkook and reader to be addicts, general topics of competitiveness between kids growing up, recreational drinking, references to people using sex as advantage, allusions to topics of promiscuity, recreational drug use (weed), reader’s agent straight up trying to get her to have sexual relations with people, implications of using people, reader is aggressively goal-oriented, Jungkook and reader are a little naive and sort of love-at-first-sighting, explicit language, explicit sexual content, three sex scenes, sex in a public place (restaurant bathroom), oral (m. and f. receiving), spit play, spit in general, light degradation, rough sex, sex under the influence of alcohol (both are able to consent and want it), Jungkook drives after drinking (not implied or referenced that he’s drunk but he is driving after having glasses of wine), nipple play, vaginal fingering, reverse cowgirl, ass play (f. receiving), missionary, fucking from the side, a little bit of come play, voyeurism if you squint, a hint of possessiveness, literally so many bodily fluids like a ton, reader kind of being in something like subspace and being fucked stupid/to sleep basically, aftercare referenced, implied toxic relationships with past coworkers/current coworkers, references to vicious/toxic work industry, light depictions of cocaine use (not explicitly seen) by a side character, honestly Jungkook and reader are a lil cringe in this and moving very fast but they have addictive personalities idk what to tell you, there are hints to their addictive personalities, talk about social anxiety needing medication/alcohol to take the edge off (not good to do people!!!), very light hinting at traits that will be a problem
❀ Published: October 6, 2023
❀ A/N: This might be the most gratuitous thing I have ever written - it actually might be too much sex? At what point is it too much and just too much come and kissing and the word c*ck, genuinely? Anyway, my goal with this chapter wasn’t so much plot as it was to introduce how volatile these two have the potential to be. If you’ve ever known someone who has struggled with addiction, you will notice the little innocent behaviors that have the potential for utter disaster. These are two people who are wildly native and very much think they are in control of their life, but who are a little reckless. It will seem like they get together fast because they do with like.. Very little regard for anything else. I really hope you enjoy this story. I think it will become sort of a little thing for me to put parts of past traumas I have into it to finally let them go, maybe! Also - I am using the western naming pattern in this with first name last name because of the ambiguity of where this story takes place. ❀ A/N 2: This story was originally named ‘Hiraeth’ but after chatting with a kind anon, I realized that the definition and translation of the word did not fit and lost cultural context from its original meaning and thus changed the title to Lights. Thank you @here2bbtstrash for the loyal beta read and @gimmethatagustd for helping me get VERY unstuck multiple times by letting me talk in circles and offering words of wisdom.
❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This series does not attempt to paint a realistic depiction of idols, or the industry, or draw comparisons. None of the scenes or elements in this series in any way reflect how I perceive the music industry and do not represent any opinions. This is not intellectual commentary, it is just straight-up fiction.
Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Ask | Lights Playlist | Previous Episode | Tag Lists | Next Episode
Jungkook looks like sin. It’s the first thought you have as you pause at the bottom of the stairs, eyes nearly blinded by the twinkling lights above. But there he is, standing in the glow of flashing purples and pinks, looking right at you.
He’s standing at one of the booths on the far end of the club, which has been rented for an event that you don’t remember the details of. His eyes land on you, and though you’ve never met, you suddenly feel a connection snap into place, something magnetic. For a moment, everything goes quiet, like in those romance books you used to read when you were a teenager.
Before, it used to seem a little silly. You didn’t think it was possible to suddenly see no one else in a room full of people except one person.
Now, it doesn’t seem that preposterous. You’re only able to take in a fraction of information in the second that your eyes connect with his: round face, long, wavy hair, and an arm full of tattoos with a drink held in his hand.
He is stunning. You already knew that from the other two times you’ve caught a flash of him at events, but every time you see him in person, you’re awed all over again by the effortless way he catches the eye.
The tension between the two of you breaks as someone knocks into you and you stumble, trying not to twist your ankle with the high heels you’re currently wearing. Too short to see over the rest of the crowd, you lose sight of Jungkook. Music comes rushing back to you, the vibration of the base and the hum of synth making it nearly impossible to hear what your agent says next to you.
“What?”
“Do you remember the list I gave you?” Mila demands, grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd. It hurts a little as she drags you along, impatient after arriving at the event late because you had a problem with your wardrobe for the evening. “That list is imperative.”
“Yes.”
The list is impossible. You have memorized at least two dozen people that your agent expects you to talk to and rub elbows with tonight. Some of them are certainly doable - people at your own company, artists you’re familiar with. Others are ridiculous, including idols that are several calibers above your station as a newly promoted producer at ILIA.
Sure, you have the new glow of recent popularity after some surprising award wins and being likable on social media - which matters to your company as much as producing award-winning records - but you know what they all think. You know that they think your parents paid someone or that you fucked your way out of being a junior producer.
It helps that neither is true. It doesn’t help that you would have done it anyway, if it meant feeding the simmering hunger inside of you that never seems to fade, your desire to win outweighing everything else.
“You should catch up with your old friend Luna, she should be easy. You trained with her in the early building stages of ILIA.”
“Yeah,” you mutter faintly. “I remember her.”
You remember almost all of them. Something about spending your formative years with a bunch of teenagers being pitted against one another to be the best has made their faces and names permanent. Even the ones who didn’t make the cut or quit on their own.
Quitting is a foreign concept to you. It’s not as foreign as Mila kissing the cheek of some manager at some company you don’t know, pushing you toward them. You don’t care about who he is. There’s nothing he can offer you if he’s not someone who makes music. And as far as you’re concerned, you’re under the careful and powerful tutelage of the Suga.
Yoongi is a better connection than almost everyone in this building and you know it.
Suddenly you regret turning down his offer to stay at the studio and work. Yoongi has the agency to say no to scheming agents and public relations teams. He’s already paid his way to be able to do whatever he wants. Specifically, he’s paid in manipulation, blood, sweat, tears, and drama.
You are fresh meat swimming alone in shark-filled waters. Still, you look people in the eye as you shake hands and force smiles all night, going through your mental rolodex of names and achievements. You exchange phone numbers with a few actresses, promising to get drinks. You’re sure they wouldn’t want to if you weren’t fresh off an award-season win. Still, it’s something.
You spot Jimin in the crowd, feeling relief as you step up toward the series of booths that you spotted Jungkook near earlier.
“Finally someone tolerable,” Jimin yells when he sees you, tossing back the rest of his champagne. He has kohl smudged around his eyes, making his gaze far more intense as he gives you a once-over. “You look ravishing. Are you sure you don’t want to take me up on the offer to come home with me?”
It would be a lie to say you both haven’t flirted with the idea. There’s something genuine in your friendship, though. Something difficult to find, a twin-flame soul that you’d be hard-pressed to ruin for a bit of publicity. Even if Jimin is the most divine creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.
It’s out of the question, though. Jimin has become your safehaven in a house of cards world.
Looking him up and down, you let out a long whistle. His hair is freshly dyed bubblegum pink, glittering earrings looped through his ears that scatter the light. Tight black pants with a designer belt and a silk shirt tucked into the waist make him look elegant, the textured Chanel blazer cut perfectly to his narrow frame.
“Honestly, Mila doesn’t care whether we fuck or not. She still sells that rumor to the press. Doesn’t matter if it’s true. ”
Jimin makes a face at your agent's name. He glances over to where she’s talking up someone from X Entertainment. “She’s a fucking snake.”
“Well, she’s the snake assigned to me. It’s not like I picked her. As soon as they saw me as marketable, there she was hissing at my door and telling me I have to get in glam to wipe my ass.”
“So bite back. I know you have it in you.” You grimace and reach for a glass of champagne from a tray as it passes you. Jimin sighs as he looks you up and down. “I know you have fangs, little monster.”
You sip the champagne and make a face. It is far too sweet, fizzing on your tongue. “A dragon does not kill the sheep because it feels threatened. It kills when it pleases.”
“My girl. Let’s go around the room, shall we? I want to keep those rumors going.”
With a laugh, you take his hand and let him lead you around the room, passing Mila who grins at you as you go. You try not to leer at her, irritated with her obsession with your relationship with Jimin. When she first noticed that you and Jimin hit it off, she surprised you with an entirely new designer lingerie line. Just because, she had said. A girl should feel powerful and sexy.
After a few attempts, Mila has finally learned you’re not a dumb little lamb. You’ll take her advice when you want it, but you refuse to let it be at the expense of the single person you trust outside of Yoongi, though Yoongi does not entirely count. As your mentor and senior, he would be horrified to hear you call him a friend.
After nearly an hour of fake smiles, forced laughter, and far too much champagne, you’re tired and buzzed. You’ve talked to at least ten people on Mila’s long list of celebrities, execs, investors, and influencers that she’s pushed onto you. Another member of that list is standing a few feet away from you, laughing loudly at something Jimin says as she puts her manicured hand on his arm.
As you contemplate whether or not you should bite the bullet and risk saying hello to Luna, someone behind you says, “She hates you. I think she still holds it against you that you got a producer deal without debuting.”
Whirling around to identify the voice, you stop short. Jungkook Jeon stares down at you, his eyes just as dark and alluring as they were earlier when you made brief eye contact from across the room. This close, he is taller than you expect. His skin-tight white shirt leaves nothing to the imagination, showing the defined muscles of his stomach and chest, and his perfect, tapered waist.
It’s a face you’re familiar with, pasted across fashion campaigns and media outlets as he talks about his new single. Your heart is pounding as you drink him in. Soft lips, round cheekbones, and gentle eyes that darken considerably when he watches you look him over.
“Yeah,” you say back, swallowing the rest of your champagne. The carbonation catches you by surprise, making you cough as you swallow the sweet liquid the wrong way.
He laughs and takes the flute away from you, sticking it on a tray as a server passes by. “Bad swallower?” Instead of answering him, you put one hand on your chest as you cough and the other on his arm, steadying yourself as you lean over and cough, clearing your throat. “Damn, Mozart. You okay?”
“Yeah,” you rasp, feeling your face warm in embarrassment. You remove your hand from his arm and ask, “Mozart?”
“Don’t you do all that composing and shit?”
“I do that producing and shit, yeah.”
“It’s about the same. You’re Min’s prodigy, which means you’re Mozart. And he’s Haydn.”
“I’m sorry, you know the names of classical composers?”
He smirks. “I know your name.”
“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know yours.”
It’s a lie. You both know it is, and the grin that spreads across his face is downright devilish as he sticks his hand out. “Jungkook,” he says. You shake his hand, admiring his tattoos. And his fingers. But mostly his tattoos. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure is mine.”
“I would love to make that come true.”
You raise a brow. “Is this how most of your conversations go? Telling people that others hate them, name-dropping classical musicians, and making sexual innuendos?”
“Honestly? No, but I am having a great time. I will, however, drop the innuendos if they’re not your style.”
You smile. “I didn’t say that.”
His answering smile makes your stomach flip. “Want to get a drink?”
“Depends. Are you going to tell me about all these people who hate me?”
“This is my promise to you that I will only ever be honest with you. So yes.”
You gesture toward the bar. “Lead the way, then.”
Bodies press against you as the two of you snake through the crowd. Jungkook turns a few times to check on you and flashes you a quick smile to reassure him that you’re okay. It’s cute, you think. You don’t know much about him, but you’re impressed thus far.
And perhaps a little intimidated by his star power and reputation.
At the bar, the crowd pushes you closer, knocking your arm into his. He steadies you, keeping his hand on your elbow. “What’s your poison?”
“Vodka soda!” you shout back to him. He nods and leans against the bar, giving your order to the bartender. Jungkook draws attention like moths to a flame, people looking at him and whispering behind manicured hands. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
You narrow your eyes as he waits on the drinks, one elbow propped on the bar, his other hand still on your arm. He bites his bottom lip, staring at you. “One might try and say you have something up your sleeve.”
“Nope, just my heart on my sleeve. You’re cute and I’ve heard nice things about you from Jimin. We grew up together.”
“Wait, really?”
That is a surprise to you. Jimin has never mentioned growing up with Jungkook or being remotely friendly of the sort. You frown as you think about it, wondering if Jimin left it out for a reason or felt that it was an unimportant fact.
“Mhmm.” Jungkook hands you a drink, the glass already sweating from the humidity of the club. “What, Jimin doesn’t brag about me?”
“We don’t gossip about people in the industry.”
Carefully, the two of you navigate back toward your section. Jungkook finds an empty booth and slides in, patting the seat next to him. You sit down and lean back, kicking your legs out in front of you and crossing them at the ankle. Your dress is short but remains modest, enough to keep people guessing. You take a sip of your drink, the burn making you hiss.
“I so rarely see you at events,” Jungkook says after a sip of his dark drink. “I’ve wanted to introduce myself for a while and then you came in and it was like we had a moment.”
“You mean you wanted it to be a moment.”
“Maybe I did.” He smiles. “So where have you been hiding?”
“Legend of Zelda isn’t going to play itself. I come to the events I feel like are worth it.”
Actually, you come to whatever Mila drags you to. Jungkook doesn’t need to know how most of your time is spent in a music studio with the caffeine shakes trying to perfect songs to make sure you don’t get tossed out on the street.
He narrows his eyes. “Tears of the Kingdom?”
“Obviously. I’ve been building weapons of mass destruction for days.”
Jungkook tilts his head back and laughs. “What other games do you like, Mozart?”
Talking to Jungkook is a pleasant surprise. He isn’t at all what social media makes him out to be. You find he’s incredibly kind, certainly flirty, but also wildly endearing. You feel a little guilty at assuming his veneer would be thin and made of plastic like the rest.
It certainly doesn’t feel like you’re talking to someone who went number one on Billboard the week prior. Jungkook doesn’t talk about other people he knows or ask about work. He flits through topics like a curious bird, quizzing your interests, scrunching his nose, and pouting when you say something he doesn’t like.
It’s cute. He’s cute, and you’d be lying if you said that the longer you sat next to him, you haven’t started to think about what it would be like to taste him. Even if he moves on the next day like his reputation has led you to believe.
But… there’s something there. A spark, though perhaps a trick of the lights.
-
“You want me to what?” you ask, lowering your voice as you lean into Mila’s ear.
A raucous chorus of Happy Birthday is being poorly sung on the dance floor. You hadn’t even realized this event was for someone’s birthday, and you have half a mind to ask who the hell you should be wishing a happy day of birth to, but Mila is bitching you out in front of the building’s restrooms.
Even tucked away in the hall outside of the bathroom, you speak in hushed tones, worried someone will overhear her scheming. She looks down her beaky nose at you, eyes like an eagle. “Fuck him,” she repeats slowly, drawing out the syllables like you’re a toddler. “He’s into you and it would be great for publicity.”
“I’m sorry, but since when do you dictate my sex life?”
Not only are you a little too buzzed to have this conversation, but the very implication that your agent thinks she can make you fuck Jungkook is hilarious enough to have you start giggling hysterically. Mila watches you with narrowed eyes as you cover your mouth, laughing behind your hands.
“You are not a naive little girl,” Mila hisses at you. “He wants to fuck you, so let him. He’s attractive, he has influence, and he’s with one of the big four companies. It would be good press.”
“You and the fucking press, you’re obsessed!”
“No, I’m right. My job is to be right and to tell you what to do, and right now I’m telling you that Jungkook is already known for sticking his dick in anything he can. He’s been staring at you all night. You’d be doing yourself a favor.”
You take a step back from her and hold up your hand. “If I fuck him, it’s because he’s hot and I want to. Not to play political chess for you, understood?”
“In my experience, you either become interesting or watch your career fade. Your time of being interesting is ticking. Your call. I’m getting out of here. Do what you want, like you always do.”
What Mila says hurts but you refuse to let it show, holding out a hand to gesture the way out of the hall. She walks by you brusquely, sweeping her blunt, black hair over her shoulder as she goes. You stand in the dark, the door to the bathrooms opening and closing, flashing bright light and then leaving you in with colors pulsing in front of you as your eyes try to readjust every few seconds.
A loud group of girls startle you as they stumble out of the bathroom, laughing raucously. They’re a tangle of legs and heels and sweet-smelling perfume, nearly running you over as they sway, a collective mass of bodies. They look exactly like the women you cut out of magazines and pasted in your journal as a kid, dragging your finger over the pretty dresses and the designer names listed in the captions.
Luna stops short when she sees you, straightening and brushing her freshly dyed silver hair out of her face. She is cherubic and beautiful, her round cheeks flushing naturally and doll mouth always rosebud pink. You feel trepidation as she regards you, the girls in her group hanging back a bit as she assesses you.
“How are you?” she questions, settling on polite while flashing you a pointed smile and holding out her arms.
Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake.
You feel a flicker of anger at yourself as you let her pull you into a hug, resentful that you must play this game. She smells like vodka and vanilla, and when she pulls away, you see the barest hint of white on her nose. You brush your finger back and forth on your nostril.
“Oh.” She wipes it off with the back of her hand, giving a short, shallow sniff. “Thanks.”
“You look nice,” you offer stiffly. Your tongue is heavy from drinking and you scramble for compliments to say, even if they aren’t true. “I like your new song.”
“Thanks! I have the best producers and writers available out there. They really know exactly what they’re doing.”
You feel the strain in your smile tighten. Moves and counter moves. “That’s good.”
“My team is great. I’m so thankful I had the opportunity to be with S3vn.”
Luna’s voice is polite. Happy, even. But you hear the double meaning in her words. Remember the way she cut your hair before a major review day when you were sixteen. She’s become better at being mean in a nice way. And you have become better at being unaffected, knowing it is her least favorite response.
“It’s nice to see you, Luna.”
Her smile drops when you don’t get upset. You turn and leave the hallway, palms sweaty and head spinning. Swallowing thickly, you wipe your hands on your exposed thighs and walk back to where Jungkook is sitting, surprised to see Jimin has joined him. He narrows his eyes as you approach, but his expression is overall unreadable.
You sit back down silently on the other side of Jimin, staring off into space. The room feels like it’s spinning. You’re toeing the line of buzzed and drunk, so you sip some water, letting yourself go silent as you absently stare into the crowd, watching the cascading lights, a little lost in them.
Jimin waves his hand back and forth in front of your face. “Are you listening?”
You blink a few times, turning to see him and Jungkook looking at you. “What?”
“Jungkook invited us to an after-party. J-Hope is having some people over.”
“Oh.”
Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift to Jungkook. He gives you a tentative smile, nodding his head in encouragement.
“You should come,” Jungkook encourages with a coy grin. “I’d have fun with you there.”
“Do you want to go?” you ask Jimin quietly, looking back at him. He still has a vague expression, one you can’t figure out. “I’ll only go if you do.”
“Sure,” he offers. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
-
“So you’re Yoongi’s prodigy? No shit!” Hoseok asks, looking at you from the front seat of the van. City lights blur on the other side of the window and it’s hard to hear him over the screeching singing in the car and the blaring music. “You’re about as hard to meet as Yoongi is!”
J-Hope - Hoseok, as he has asked you to call him - gives you a bright smile. You just stare at him, shocked that he has any idea who you are. You make a mental note to thank Yoongi for even mentioning your name to him. Hoseok is an absolute powerhouse and someone you’ve followed for years. It’s a good connection.
“Told you that you’d want to meet her,” Jungkook says, voice deep.
Jungkook’s body presses against yours in the packed-tight vehicle. His hand is on top of your knee. His cologne smells like amber and sandalwood, making your eyelashes flutter as you breathe in. You lay your head back against the headrest of the seat, letting it roll to the side a little to test his reaction when you place your head on his shoulder.
He turns his head toward you, his breath fanning against your forehead. You smell his mint gum. If you look up at him right now, your mouths would be close enough to kiss. “Hi,” he says softly.
“Hi.”
“You have pretty eyes.”
“I grew them myself.”
Jungkook’s laughter is abrupt. You grin at his mirth. He has a cute laugh, totally at odds with the edgy tattoos and the way he carries himself. The paradox intrigues you.
“That wasn’t very smooth, was it?”
He shakes his head. “It’s honest. I like it. Your reactions are probably the most genuine thing I’ve seen all night. I like genuine.”
“There’s not a lot of that to go around.”
“I know. That’s why I’m glad we locked eyes from across the room.”
You roll your eyes. “Okay, The Lonely Island.”
Hoseok lives in a luxurious apartment on the east side of the city. The entrance is private in a parking garage, away from wandering eyes. Everyone piles out of the car and when you slide to exit, you find a tattooed hand waiting to help you out.
Grinning, you take Jungkook’s hand. Your fingers tingle where they’re interlocked with his, warmth spreading across your palms. Once you’re out of the car, you start to let go. Jungkook squeezes his fingers tighter, urging you to look up at him. There’s a question in his eyes, gaze flicking down to where your hands are clasped.
A small grin lights up your face and you squeeze his hand back. He leads you toward the elevator, swinging your hands back and forth. You know this game well: Jungkook is priming you. The hand-holding, the compliments, and the staying near you all night are all his signals to you that he wants you to go home with him.
You want that too, but you also don’t want it to come easy. It’s a risk to make him work harder for it, but you want to see if he will..
“Cute,” Jimin mutters, raising a brow as he walks next to you.
Hoseok’s apartment is a dream. It makes sense for someone with as many writing and choreography credits across the industry as him, in addition to having two top charting albums, a clothing partnership with a popular designer, and countless brand endorsements.
It’s much nicer than the small but flashy apartment ILIA has put you in. Where your apartment feels like a model home that you can’t leave fingerprints in, Hoseok’s feels authentic. There are hand-selected pieces of art on his walls, a towering bookcase of awards and plaques, blankets and pillows thrown over the couches, books and video game controllers on the coffee table.
Someone gets control of the speaker system and starts pumping hip-hop through the two-story apartment. You navigate to the kitchen where you run into Hwasa pouring drinks. She screams when she sees you, abandoning her bartender duties and making everyone in the kitchen flinch and turn in your direction. You let go of Jungkook’s hand, casting your arms open.
“Helllooooo?!” She grips you tight, kissing your forehead and both cheeks. You laugh, immediately feeling yourself relax having seen a familiar face. The greeting is a little more than you expect, but she’s drunk and happy. You take it in stride. “I cannot believe you’re here and with… well isn’t that new?”
“Hello, Hwasa.”
“Jeon,” she greets, narrowing her eyes. She tucks you into her arm, pointing a finger at Jungkook. “You better not fuck with this girl, understand me? She is way too cool for your bullshit.”
He rolls his eyes. “What bullshit?”
“I’m so serious. I like her.”
Hwasa lets you go and laughs it off, giving Jungkook a quick kiss on the cheek before going back to her drink-making. Jimin is nowhere in sight, having drifted off to a corner of the living room to chat with Hoseok, leaving you with Jungkook.
Jungkook scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that,” he ventures.
“It happens.”
“Still awkward.”
“It is,” you snark. You bring your fist up to your mouth, speaking into it like you’re giving an interview. “Jungkook, how does it feel to be put on blast for your spicy endeavors right when you walk into the party?”
You hold your fist out to him, offering him the mic. “Spicy endeavors?”
“Promiscuous has negative implications and we are sex-positive here.”
“Wow, such forward-thinking media. I’ve never heard of that before.”
“You never will again, I’m afraid.”
Jungkook shakes his head and chuckles, gesturing to the drinks all over the counter. “You want a drink?”
“I do.”
With a drink in hand, you both return to the party. There’s dancing going on in a corner of the living room, a card game going on in the dining room, and a smoke session going on around the couches. Jungkook sits on the arm of the couch next to Jimin and another girl you don’t know.
You freeze up a little, unsure where to sit. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, reaching a hand out as he joins the conversation around the coffee table. You hesitate for a second, a little caught off guard before placing your hand in his and letting him pull you against him, leaning onto his thigh with your hips pressed together. His arm loops around the back of your thighs, hand resting on the outside of your leg. Your hand drops on his shoulder as you lean into him.
People you know stop and say hi, their eyes lingering for a long time on the way you and Jungkook lean into one another. You ignore them, content to let them wonder how it is a little producer from ILIA got her claws into Jungkook for the night.
When a weed pen is passed to Jungkook, you watch with curiosity to see what he’ll do. He takes it but looks up at you, raising his brow in question and holding it out like he’s asking for permission. You’re surprised but you nod - you don’t control what he does. It’s sweet. Surprising, but sweet.
Jungkook takes two short pulls, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction from you. The girl next to him whines, swatting at it and smacking his leg, giggling. You pay it no mind, unworried about the flirting. He’s not yours, and even if he was, it’s your waist he has pressed against him.
Jungkook holds the pen up to you and you make a face. “I don’t know whose mouth has been on that.”
He snorts. “Alright, Mozart. I have my own. Would you prefer that?”
“Yes, I would.”
Rolling his eyes but smiling, he passes it over to someone else and stands, your hand falling from his shoulder. “Come on, brat. We’ll go to the balcony so we don’t have to share.”
“Thank you, that’s what I deserve.”
He giggles. “You can’t even say that with a straight face.”
“Imagine if I meant it.”
Jungkook navigates the apartment easily. You follow him, not unaware of the gazes and whispers that pass. You lift your chin. Let them talk. The only opinions that matter to you are those of your bosses, Yoongi, Jimin, and occasionally your mother on a good day.
Right now, nothing else matters.
It’s cold outside. You shiver while Jungkook shuts the sliding glass door to the balcony just off the bedroom. Light floods in from the hallway into the room, casting a golden glow behind you. Jungkook leans on the railing, pulling a weed pen from his pocket and waving it in front of you like a prize.
You snatch it from him, sticking your tongue out. Bringing it to your lips, you suck gently on the tip, filling your mouth with acrid smoke as you inhale. It burns a little, making your eyes water as you let the air and remaining smoke out before passing it back to Jungkook. He echos your movements.
Leaning against the railing, you look out at the city. It is dazzling from this high up, a home made for a god to watch over their creation. Silence hangs between you, occasionally passing the pen back and forth. The wind feels good, though a little cold. And you appreciate how quiet it is, the sounds of the party muted through the windows.
Down below, the street looks mostly empty. It’s so far down that you’re not really sure. Your high starts to hit, dulling the edges of everything and making you feel a little soft and floating. You grip the railing a little tighter, looking at Jungkook from the corner of your eye.
Fuck if he isn’t beautiful.
“What?” he asks, a smile in his voice as he side-eyes you. “You’ve got a look on your face.”
“Nothing.”
“Mm. Not nothing. What?”
“You’re not what I expected. It’s a really nice change of pace.”
“Ah,” he answers, ducking his head. You grin, realizing that he’s blushing and trying to hide it. You poke his arm, laughing as you prod at him. “Stop, you’re making me shy.”
“You? Shy?”
“Oh yeah. I am a mess around people. I might seem good at it, but it takes champagne and sometimes a Xanax to get me to operate at a level that’s normal with everyone else.”
“And then do you stay up all night re-thinking every single interaction you had and punishing yourself like why the fuck did I say this very weird thing?”
“Yes!” he exclaims, frowning and tilting his head up toward the sky. “It is exhausting. Sometimes I’m so worried I’m going to embarrass myself that I skip an event altogether and take the fucking verbal beating from the company.”
“Ugh, Mila would fit right in.”
“She’s kind of a snake, huh?”
You hum. “Jimin called her exactly that earlier tonight.”
“My agent hates her. Says she’s a total control freak and vicious.” You snort. That is an understatement. “Makes her successful, though. She has some of the world's biggest names under her.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t choose her. She was assigned to me. Honestly, I don’t think she thought I had any potential to bring her success and be a household name until I won that award for producing Hwasa’s song.”
“It was a good song.”
You smile distantly, looking out at the hazy lights of the city. Everything feels a little slow and dreamy, your thoughts fluid. “I liked it. I want to do better - be better. A lot of it’s about connections though and I… am not great at that part.”
“I think you’re doing pretty okay.”
Jungkook shifts closer. He’s turned to you, so near that you’re almost touching. He looks down at you through long lashes, watching for your reaction. You look up at him, a little starry eyed and dizzy at his proximity. This close, you can see the freckle just under his mouth. You want to kiss him, but you hold back, feeling your insecurity worm its way in.
“Yeah?” you ask, a little breathy. “Are you saying there’s a connection here?”
“Uh-huh.” He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He reaches a hand forward and brushes the underside of your chin, tilting your face up toward him even more. “Come home with me.”
The breath leaves your lungs. You’re not surprised that he’s asked, and yet your body still reacts, adrenaline taking over. His gaze is hungry as he watches you, waiting for your response, finger still propped under your chin like he might kiss you.
“Take me on a date,” you assert. Perhaps it's the drinks and the weed that makes you so bold, but you want more than anyone else has had from him. You want to be different. “Dinner.”
He tries to fight a smile, tonguing the inside of his cheek. The action is wildly attractive for some reason, nearly making you waver and let him take you home now. “Do you like Italian?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he says. “Tomorrow.”
“The day after. I’m busy tomorrow with work.”
He narrows his eyes. “Damn. Gonna make me wait in agony, huh?”
You grin. “I’m worth waiting for.”
“You very much are. Day after tomorrow at eight. Wear something nice.”
“Fine. Wear those necklaces you wore for your Vogue shoot.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Oh?” Jungkook purrs. “You like the necklaces?”
“I like to imagine what they look like dangling above my face.”
He shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”
“Good. The day after tomorrow.” You take a step back, a wicked grin on your face. He drops his hand, staring you down. “Don’t be late.”
-
Jungkook isn’t late and you wish that he was. Cursing over and over again, you pull the knee-high boot up your leg, thankful for the supple, flexible leather that fits your calf. You nearly fall over tugging on the next, finally getting your boots on and standing up straight in front of your mirror out of breath and flustered.
The outfits had not gone according to plan. Something about going on a date with Jungkook has you feeling all out of sorts, going through enough outfits that your bed is now covered in them. You refused to tell Mila that you were going on the date, knowing that if she caught wind of it, she’d send paparazzi. As it is, Jungkook has assured you he’s gone through the hoops for a private dinner at an upscale Italian restaurant near the river.
Turning in the mirror, you decide that the short, black dress over sheer black pantyhose paired with platform boots and a long, black peacoat will have to do. Grabbing your phone, you text Jungkook back quickly that you’re coming downstairs, apologizing for the delay.
Jungkook: Like you said, you’re worth waiting for.
Me: Oh, I can take longer…
Jungkook: Don’t make me come up there.
Jungkook: Actually, on second thought, make me come up there.
As you pass your kitchen, you double back and run to the alcohol cabinet, pulling a bottle of tequila down quickly to shoot back a quick swig. It burns your throat, making you cough and squeeze your eyes shut as you hack for a moment, corking the bottle and gasping for air.
At least it will take the edge off.
Wiping the traces from your chin, you rush out of your apartment, letting the tequila burn its way through you to set the first layer of calm. In the elevator, you take in a slow, deep breath for five seconds. Exhale for five seconds. Inhale for five seconds.
The elevator dings, making you flinch. Clutching your purse to steady your trembling hands, you step out onto the ground floor of the parking garage where you find Jungkook parked illegally and leaning on the side of the vehicle.
Slowing your steps, you appreciate the boy and then the car. Jungkook is dressed in black slacks with a belt at the waist and a black, tight-fitted turtleneck. The material of the shirt forms to his body, showing his defined arms and toned chest.
Jungkook’s hair is slicked back, a single dangling earring on his left lobe paired with the rest of his signature hoops. You have no idea how a single piece of jewelry changes everything about his energy, but your heart rate skyrockets as you approach him, a little shy.
He lets out a low, slow whistle. “Fuck. You are a knockout.”
“You look pretty good yourself.”
“Nah, Mozart. You look…” He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck, laughing a little. “You’re gonna fucking wreck me.”
A nervous laugh escapes you and you chew the inside of your cheek as you stop in front of him, hands crossed in front of you. He pushes off the car, which is a sleek Porsche, and sticks his hand out to you. Tentatively, you place your hand in his.
Leaning forward, Jungkook places a kiss on your cheek. Your lashes flutter, skin warm. He pulls away with a small smile. “You look beautiful. I mean it.”
“You’re making me nervous.”
“No kidding, I feel like my heart is about to come out of my chest.”
He’s going to be the death of you. It’s endearing, how honest he is, letting what he’s thinking pour out of his mouth. You’re unsure if it’s part of his game or if it’s genuine, and it puts you a little on edge, trying to guess what’s going through his mind.
Lacing his fingers with yours, Jungkook escorts you around the car and opens the passenger. The interior of the car smells clean and is lined with white LED lights and red leather seats. You raise your brows as you slide inside, your coat protecting you from the cold leather.
Jungkook closes your door and rounds the back, slipping into the driver’s side. He turns to you, tilting his head to the side. You fiddle with the buttons on your coat. “What?”
“Kiss me,” he says, sounding breathless. “Kiss me so we don’t have to be nervous anymore.”
“You just want me to kiss you.”
Jungkook puts his elbow on the center console and leans forward. He looks down his nose at you, eyes focused on your mouth. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to fight a shiver of adrenaline threatening to take over. “So what?”
“Ask me nicely,” you murmur, leaning toward him. You look him in the eye, trying to still your hummingbird heart. This close, you see the flecks of gold in his irises, swirls of brown and caramel. They’re beautiful, framed by silky lashes. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“Please kiss me.”
“Hmm?”
“I am begging you to kiss me.”
“Almost…”
“I need you to kiss me.”
So you do.
Jungkook’s mouth is soft. He laughs in surprise but leans into the kiss, slotting his mouth against yours firmly. It’s innocent and sweet, just a gentle brush of lips. You pull away, noses bumping against one another as he rests his forehead on yours.
It’s quiet and cold in the interior of the car, only the sound of your shallow breathing and the hum of the engine audible. Something electric courses through your veins, ignited by the feeling of his mouth against yours and you immediately want more. You’ve never felt this sudden, carnal desire before. This need to fall into him.
For a second, you fight it. Then, you give in.
Leaning forward, you catch Jungkook’s lips in a real kiss. It’s slow at first. You catch him off guard but he’s quick to keep up, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth greedily. Dizziness makes your world spin. You press up against the center console, sliding your tongue gently against his. Jungkook reaches a hand up to your face, cradling you as he deepens the kiss.
His mouth tastes like spearmint gum. Your skin is overheating, and you suddenly feel stuffy and constricted in your jacket. Jungkook breaks the kiss, panting against your lips as he presses chaste kisses to the side of your mouth and lips.
“Did you drink tequila?” he asks, voice husky. He starts kissing your jaw and your head lolls to the side, eyelids fluttering. “Tastes like it.”
“I was nervous,” you pant, almost moaning as his tongue flicks out to lick at your skin. “So I took a shot.”
“I make you that nervous?” His teeth pull at your earlobe. You sink further into the seat, starting to turn boneless. You feel like you’re melting at the joints, abruptly unable to string together a sentence under the attention of his greedy, warm mouth. “Cat got your tongue?”
“You’re supposed to take me to dinner.”
“Oh, I am. And then we'll order ice cream, and then we’re going home.”
“Oh?”
“My home. I have necklaces to show you.”
“Fuck.”
Reluctantly, Jungkook pulls away. His lips are wet and a little dark from kissing you, his eyes wild. You watch him from where you’re sunken in the seat, a little wrecked from just kissing. You realize that Jungkook has the potential to ruin you. To crack you open and devour you.
And you let him.
Reaching across the car, you cradle his face, thumb pulling at his bottom lip, damp with your lip gloss and spit. “Pretty,” you murmur. His tongue darts out, laving across your thumb. You grin. “Dangerous.”
“Not with you.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Well, I mean it.”
“We barely know each other.”
He shrugs. “I don’t care. I have a sense for these things.”
“Mmm.” You drop your hand from his face. “Dinner, then. And ice cream. And then home.”
-
Jungkook’s first lie is that he’s not dangerous with you. He nearly kills you several times on the way to dinner, leaning over at almost every stoplight to bring your mouth to his again. His mouth is addictive, each kiss intense and intended to make you fall further and further into this waking dream you’re in.
By the time the valet opens your door to a private entrance at the restaurant and helps you out, you think you might be entirely drunk on Jungkook’s kisses alone. He laces his fingers with yours, pulling you close as you walk up toward the back of the restaurant.
Inside is a dark hall, barely lit by fixtures in the ceiling casting gold light. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust as Jungkook gives the host his name. To your right is a curtain with the soft hush of diners and piano music. To your left is another curtain with no sound coming through.
“Thank you for choosing us, Mr. Jeon. Right this way.”
The host bows his head slightly, guiding you to the left curtain. He pulls it open and gestures for you to enter. You step through after Jungkook, raising your brows when you realize it’s a private dining room. It looks reserved for events and parties perhaps, but the room is furnished with a single table and rich, mahogany chairs.
Velvet drapery covers the walls and a large, crystal chandelier hangs over the table. The heels of your boots click on the hardwood floors as Jungkook leads you to your seat, letting go of your hand to pull out the chair. You flash him a smile, sitting as he helps you scoot in.
He sits across from you, adjusting his shirt sleeves. Your eyes momentarily get sidetracked when you realize he has on the layered necklaces you ask for, and you grin before averting your attention to the host who instructs that the chef and the sommelier will be with you momentarily to talk about your dining options for the evening.
When he leaves, it’s just you and Jungkook with the soft sound of piano trailing from somewhere distant. You level your gaze on him, watching him watch you. The setting feels intimate, leaving you a little overwhelmed but in a good way. You’ve gone on dates, but not like this.
“What?” he questions gently. “You have a look on your face.”
“I’m just impressed, is all.”
“It only gets better from here. I have so many ideas for dates.”
“Oh? Plural?”
“Mhmm.” He leans back in his seat, tonguing his cheek. “If all goes well, anyway.”
“So far so good.”
The sommelier and the chef arrive together, hands tucked behind their backs. It’s hard to pay them much mind. Jungkook is distracting, even as he gives them his full attention, nodding along and answering their questions. He looks to you for input, but you feel a little useless, barely listening to what they’re saying.
“Trust me enough to order?” he asks, leaning over the table conspiratorially.
“Well, you’re with me, so you must have good taste. I trust you.”
His foot nudges your ankle under the table playfully. He orders a round of appetizers and wine. When the sommelier asks you to sample it, you follow Jungkook's lead, inhaling the dark red lightly. It smells strongly of cherries and something sweet, making your mouth water. The taste is lush and wonderful, pleasing to the palate.
The sommelier bows and leaves the two of you alone, vanishing behind the curtain. Jungkook lifts his wine glass to you, smiling. “Here’s to our first date and many more.”
“Cheers.”
After a sip, you set your glass down and look at Jungkook from across the table. “Was it absolutely painful, waiting for today?”
“I hardly survived, to be honest. All day yesterday I lay in bed dreaming of today.”
“Hmm. Is that all you dream about?”
His gaze darkens. “Careful, Mozart. I dream very vividly.”
Jungkook does impress you. With his knowledge about a wide variety of topics, with the charming expressions he uses as he speaks, with… him overall. He’s multifaceted in a way you rarely get to see with others, and you feel giddy as you listen to him.
Though you have a similar experience getting into music, it’s nice to hear Jungkook’s story. You keep it light, avoiding the darker parts of going through trainee programs and how competitive and hard it was to be a kid, growing up while working.
He asks you about music. Not just the music you work on, but the music you grew up listening to, your favorite genres, and the technical aspects of making music. Jungkook is intelligent and familiar with the mechanics of making records. He asks questions and nods along, interested and curious in learning.
You can’t remember the last time you had a conversation go this well, even outside of dates. When you urged Jungkook to take you on a date, you weren’t sure you’d end up liking him. Now though, as he lets you take the last stuffed mushroom because you can have whatever you want, you realize that you like him.
It is such a dangerous game to play, especially with the rumors you hear about him.
Instead of thinking about it, you enjoy dinner. You both finish the bottle of wine and he orders another. You’re feeling loose and warm, laughing more often and giving him lazy smiles. Even without the wine, you want to drag him to the bathroom and get on your knees. Now with a few glasses in, you’re thinking about it more and more.
Dinner sobers you up a little, but it doesn’t remove the heat between your legs and the growing desire to kiss him again. You think about the way his mouth moved against yours, tongue gentle and talented. Your mind wanders into places less innocent, especially after dinner comes to an end and ice cream is brought out, as promised.
Jungkook carves the spoon through the dessert, leaning forward with it held out. You smirk, leaning to meet him halfway to let him slide the ice cream into your mouth. Cold vanilla melts on your tongue. It’s good and creamy, but you hardly pay attention to the taste, eyes fastened to Jungkook’s.
“Good?” His voice is deep, soft. “I want to taste.”
You pick up your spoon, picking up a small scoop. You hold it out to him and he repeats your motion, bending to meet you. His eyes don’t leave yours as he eats it, tongue running over the bottom of his lip after to catch any extra.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, getting up abruptly. He holds his hand out to you and you place yours in his. He hoists you up and surprises you by pulling you into his chest. “We’re going.”
You lean up on your toes, stealing his lips with yours. They taste like the wine you’ve been drinking. Your mouth tingles as you kiss him and your thoughts are cottony and slow, only focused on the way he hums, leaning forward to swipe his tongue eagerly into your mouth.
The kiss turns a little messy. You’re woozy, letting him bend you backward as he steals the breath from your lungs. Jungkook is intoxicating, your hand dropping his to wrap around his neck. You thread your fingers through the waves at the nape of his neck. They’re silky soft, sliding between your fingers. You tug a little, pulling a groan low in his throat.
“Careful or I will fuck you here,” he pants, spit-slicked mouth moving against yours. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, tasting more wine. “Devil.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Jungkook pulls away from you, holding you at arm's length. You stare up at him, eyes heavy. You feel arousal pool in your stomach with the way he looks at you, his mouth wine-stained.
“That’s how you want it?” His tone is threatening. Laced with something carnal. Your stomach flutters as you nod. You’re not thinking about anything but him, not worried about anything. “Fuck.”
Without hesitation, he grabs you by the hand and pulls you across the floor. You follow him eagerly, heart hammering as Jungkook all but kicks the private bathroom door open. He yanks you inside and spins you, pushing you toward an elegant sink.
The bathroom is dark. The walls are painted black and the gold-fixtured lighting is dim. It would be romantic if Jungkook wasn’t flicking the lock behind him and advancing on you. Just as he reaches for you, you surprise him, dropping to your knees and looking up through your lashes.
He raises his brows, looking down at you, heat behind his eyes. You lift your hand to the zipper of his pants, slowly pulling it down, pausing for permission.
“Go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, nodding. “Take what you want.”
Licking your lips, you do exactly that. Your fingers are nimble as you undo the button at the top of his pants. You pull them down a little, just enough to get them out of your way. You eye the hardening outline of his cock against his briefs, breath catching.
You look up at him. “You have a huge cock, don’t you?”
He sticks out his tongue between his teeth. “Why don’t you find out, hmm?”
Leaning high up on your knees, you lick the outline of his cock, watching as he shivers. You run your tongue to the tip of his cock, stopping to mouth at it. He curses, hips twitching as you soak the fabric with your mouth, placing your hands on his thighs.
Muscles twitch under your palms. You dig your nails in and scratch upward, the fabric hissing underneath your fingers. Reaching the waistband of his briefs, you pull down agonizingly slow. Jungkook’s fingers twitch at his sides, but he lets you do what you want, breathing heavily through parted lips.
Jungkook’s cock springs out. You feel your mouth water at his thick length, already hard from the barest stimulation. Pearly beads of precum decorate the dark tip. You hum, contented as you stick your tongue out and give a quick kitten lick to the base of his shaft.
He hisses, hips twitching forward. Teasing him, you trace your tongue along a vein on the underside of his cock until you reach the tip, circling the swollen head with your tongue generously. Jungkook closes his eyes, his head falling backward.
You grip him firmly, gathering saliva in your mouth before spitting on his cock. He moans out loud and you grin, pumping him slowly while ducking under your hand to lave your tongue across his balls. He curses and a hand shoots to your head, not pushing you, but fingers pressed tight against your skull.
“Fuck, you like being a little slut?” he growls.
“Mhmm,” you answer back, pulling his cockhead into your mouth. His salty precum melts on your tongue.
Jungkook fills your mouth. You feel the stretch on the sides of your lips as you take him in properly. You let spit pool on your tongue as you slide down his cock, slurping gently as you do. It’s messy and wet and a little clumsy, the wine making you uncoordinated.
It doesn’t matter. His fingers press into your hair as you set a rhythm, bobbing your head and sucking gently while your hand pumps what you can’t fit in your mouth. Jungkook pants above you, his soft moans echoing off the tile.
The sounds he makes spur you further. Drool runs down your chin as he succumbs. You watch him through misty eyes, the crown of his cock kissing the back of your throat as you try to take him further than you can manage. You feel your throat constrict, coughing a bit as you pull off of him, twisting your wrist as you work him and gasp for air.
Spit and precum connect your lips to his cock in a thick string. It breaks when you cough, eyes stinging.
“Yeah?” he asks, gritting his teeth. “Like choking on that fucking cock?”
You run the flat of your tongue over his frenulum, making him wine. “Like hearing you moan,” you admit. The slick sound of your hand stroking him makes you squeeze your legs together. “It makes me so fucking wet.”
“Show me.”
Jungkook’s hands go to yours. He pulls you up by the wrists. Your knees feel wobbly but he holds you steady, pressing you against the counter. He steals a searing kiss from you that is more tongue than lips, hands skimming up your arms and down your sides until he’s at the hem of your dress where he pauses.
“This okay?” Your eyelids flutter open. His nose is pressed against yours, eyes steady. “We can stop whenever or if you’re too drunk.”
“I’m not.” It’s true, you’re a little drunk off the wine, but your head is clear. You know exactly what you want and your thoughts are concise. There are no hesitations and you don’t care that you’re in a bathroom, face wet with mixed fluids. “Want it.”
“Mmm.”
Jungkook slips a hand under your dress, fingers brushing over your soft thighs. It feels good, his dragging touch enticing. Your head tilts back, allowing him to press hot, wet kisses on your throat. His fingers pick at the garter belt secured to your pantyhose, making him groan.
“I wanna see these later.”
“You will.”
He licks your neck. “Good.”
You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his mouth sucking gently at your throat while his hand slides to your underwear. He presses the pads of his fingers over the silk, just enough to make your thighs close around his hand, gasping.
“You are wet.” There’s a smile in his voice. He moves his fingers in a gentle circle, applying pressure to the damp spot on your underwear. “Sucking me off did that?”
“And the ice cream.”
“Oh? Watching me eat ice cream, huh?”
“Sorry about it.”
“Don’t be.” He hooks a finger and pulls your panties to the side, touching your sticky folds properly. A moan slips out of your mouth. You can feel your heart slamming in your chest so hard you think you might have a cardiac episode. “You can watch me eat your pussy later.”
Between the implication that there is a later and thereby more after this, and the way Jungkook’s fingers slip up and down your heat, you’re a goner. It feels so good, some of the pressure between your legs relieved as he teases your clit.
Spreading your legs wider, you lean hard into the bathroom counter. It hurts where it presses against your spine but you ignore it, content to let him push you until your head hits the mirror.
Jungkook’s fingers tease your hole, leaving your cunt clenching. You whine, bringing your hands to his face to pull him off your neck and to your mouth, biting his lip playfully.
“Fuck me,” you ask between kisses, mouths smacking loudly. “Wanna feel you stretch me out.”
“Can’t even wait until we’re home?”
“You can fuck me there too.”
He laughs darkly. “Demon.”
Jungkook removes his hand from between your legs and bends at the knee, grabbing you behind the thighs. You jump lightly and he lifts you, putting you on the counter. Your dress hikes up, baring your glistening cunt to him, underwear still pulled to the side.
Balmy air kisses your skin. It’s hot in the bathroom as he cages you in, tattooed hand pumping his cock. You’re bent out of shape, spreading your legs and feeling the strain of the straps on your garner belt as you stretch them.
Reaching between your legs, you pull your underwear farther to the side, ensuring they won’t be in the way. He shakes his head, eying your heat hungrily as he runs the tip of his dick up and down your messy folds. It feels good but it’s not enough, making you squirm and whine audibly.
He tuts at you, sliding his hand up to press the head of his cock into your dripping hole. Your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure of him splitting you open as he sinks in. The stretch of him aches in pleasure-pain, your pussy opening up for every inch that he feeds you.
“Shit you’re tight,” he gasps, falling forward to rest his head on your shoulder. His back muscles strain against his shirt as he pushes in the rest of the way, bottoming out until you’re stuffed full, walls fluttering around him. “God, I could come just like this.”
“Pussy whipped?”
“Fuck, I’m gonna be.”
One of your hands goes around his neck, nails pressing into his skin. He sucks in air sharply. Your other hand drifts to his ass, grabbing him and squeezing. “Please make me come. I need it.”
Instead of answering verbally, he starts to fuck into you. It’s not a slow build or something passionate. It’s needy and heady and desperate. He sets a brutal pace and you can’t help but let out a loud moan, the shape of his name escaping you.
The feeling is addicting. You cling to him, jostling against the sink as he fucks you. The wet sound of your cunt around him is loud and lewd, backtracked by your breathy moans getting louder and higher-pitched. You feel yourself shaking, fingers digging into him as he grabs your hips, holding you down to the counter.
Jungkook’s breath fans your neck, his face buried there. He curses, occasionally biting your tender skin, making you squeal. You can feel the ghost of a smile against you, his tongue soothing your stinging flesh.
Grabbing one of your thighs, he hikes your leg higher. You slide into the sink, nearly bent in half as he changes the angle. He hits your spot on the upstroke, almost sending you into an orgasm immediately. The tension in your stomach is so tight you think you’re going to unravel.
Instead, it climbs higher and higher. You can barely breathe as he straightens to fuck you even harder. The faucet digs into your back. You don’t care, grabbing the counter as you cling to it for life, babbling. Nothing that comes out of your mouth makes any sense and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, you come. Hard.
Everything in your body locks up. You spasm around him, squeezing his cock for everything it's worth. Your orgasm is swift and powerful, taking the breath from you for a long moment before you finally manage to gasp for air, sagging against the sink.
With a few messy pumps, Jungkook comes with a loud curse, head tossed back, hips slamming yours. You can feel your release between the two of you, sticky and running down your thighs. His thrusts slow until he’s left softening inside of you.
Come leaks when he slowly pulls out. The drip is obscene but you’re too fucked out to care, looking up at him in a daze. It smells like sex in the bathroom and a light layer of sweat covers your skin.
Carefully, Jungkook tucks himself back in his pants before ripping paper towels out of the dispenser to gently wipe at your thighs. You laugh and let him take care of you, grateful that he does. He swipes one greedy finger up your pussy and pops it into his mouth, making your jaw drop.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to eat you out later.”
You chew your lip as he finishes wiping the mess from your lower half. “So there is a later, still?”
He looks dubious. “I told you that you were coming home with me.”
“I know I just thought maybe…”
“That I was gonna fuck you in a bathroom and that would be what I wanted?” You nod. “I told you, I want more dates. Something about you, Mozart. Also, you letting me fold you in half in a bathroom makes me want to drop down on one knee.”
It pleases you to hear that more than you care to admit.
With Jungkook’s help, you ease off the counter. At a glance in the mirror, you burst into hysterical laughter. Your mascara is smudged, your mouth is wet, and you look wrecked. He laughs too, caging you in and reaching around you to turn on the faucet, running the tips of his fingers underneath and bringing them up to gently wipe under your eyes.
You smile at him as he attempts to make the running makeup less noticeable. When he finishes, he turns off the faucet but remains pressed to your back, arms looped casually around you. He has a small smile, staring at you in the mirror.
“What?” you ask, laughing.
“This is going to sound stupid,” he prefaces. “But I just feel something here. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Post-nut clarity?”
He presses his pelvis into you. “No. It’s just like this really silly… I don’t know. Crush. But it just feels right.”
Surprisingly, you understand what he means. This spark you feel with him is new to you. There’s never been anyone else you feel so natural with, so immediately attracted to. Certainly not enough to throw inhibition to the wind and suck them off in a bathroom.
Something about Jungkook lights you up, a candle catching fire and burning through the wick hot and fast. People might call it reckless and immature, but you don’t know how else to explain this innate desire to jump in head-first with him.
“I feel it too.”
He kisses the back of your head. “Come on. I’m not done with you yet.”
-
You feel lost in the lights on the way home. Jungkook’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth. He’s a little subdued, focusing on the road. You don’t distract him, content to adjust the air conditioning so that it cools you off, your skin on fire from the wine and Jungkook.
The night certainly went in a direction you weren’t planning, but you don’t mind. Jungkook excites you. Perhaps it is a little rash and naive, but you don’t care, enamored by the layers of him. You want to peel back more, to dig to the core until he’s yours.
Whatever the madness is, it appears to be equal. When Jungkook pulls into the luxury apartment building known for high-profile celebrities and government officials, he’s on you again, pulling you across the car to meld your mouths together.
Dull pain blooms in your mouth, lips bruised from kissing him. You don’t care, eager to slot your tongue against his, brushing against the wet-rough feel of it.
“Come on,” he whispers, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. “Let’s go upstairs.”
It should not surprise you when Jungkook swipes a key fob and selects the penthouse apartment, but it does. It shocks you even more when the elevator opens into a four-level home. Your mouth drops open a little as you enter, Jungkook’s fingers laced with yours.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch the entire four-story home. From where you stand in the entryway, you can see multiple open-concept rooms, each ornately decorated with a modern style and neutral tones. Nothing about what you can see screams Jungkook, suggesting that his label has put him here - has the money to put him here.
The thought itself is staggering, momentarily reminding you who you just let fuck you senseless in the bathroom at an upscale restaurant. Letting Jungkook’s hand go, you wander into the main room of the apartment, stepping down into the sunken living room with large, curved couches surrounding a coffee table.
Above you, a massive glass artwork of floating lights hovers. They’re turned off, but it looks like a sculpture project most likely commissioned by a wildly expensive artist. Jungkook joins you in front of the towering windows overlooking a wide terrace. The sheer curtains do nothing to hide the twinkling lights of the city.
It gives the illusion that you’re among the stars. Jungkook leans over and presses a button on the remote. The curtains quietly begin to roll open, revealing the view in full. It is breathtaking, much more magnificent than the view from Hoseok’s apartment.
“They really pulled out all the stops for you,” you murmur, turning to look at him. He toes the carpet, twisting his mouth as he blushes. “This is insane.”
“It’s too much.”
“A little bit. But it’s cool.”
He smiles and reaches a hand out. “Let me show you the rest tomorrow after breakfast.”
You take his hand and let him pull you along toward the winding staircase. “I want waffles.”
“And in the morning, I’m making waffles!”
You both dissolve into laughter at the Shrek reference. Jungkook pulls you up the steps until you’re on the top floor, which is made up of a spacious bedroom with windows that overlook the city, an ornate bathroom you can only see the door to, what you assume is a walk-in closet, and an additional terrace with an infinity pool, firepit area, and bar.
The bedroom is more of Jungkook’s style. It’s not nearly as pristine, the sheets and blankets rumpled, all dark grey tones. There are shoes by the closet door and a shelf in the far corner with action figures and collectibles that you don’t recognize.
In the middle of the room stretches an impossibly large bed with modern sconces on either side. Medication, a glass of water, and a watch are on the nightstand next to the bed. And no signs of other suitors, you notice, but you push the thought out of your mind as Jungkook pulls you backward toward his bed, smiling.
This time you’re slower. He sits on the bed, pulling you by the waist to straddle him. Your knees sink feather-soft into the mattress on either side of him, settling yourself on his thighs as you draw him in for a kiss. You hold him gently by the jaw, fingers spread and pressing warm into his skin.
Jungkook’s hands skate around your hips to your ass, squeezing gently as your tongues dance together. Your buzz from the wine is gone now, replaced with desire burning through you, hot as a torch. It doesn’t feel needy and crazed now, but a little softer. More intimate.
Carefully, Jungkook leans backward, taking you with him. You squeal into his mouth as you land on top of him, arms giving out. You crash into his chest, though not too hard.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. He places his hands on your waist and precariously rolls over, managing not to knock heads and limbs as he places you under him. His knee slots between your legs, hands leaving your waist to bracket your head. “God damn, you are beautiful.”
It’s strange. You feel beautiful - or at least, you feel desired under him. Perhaps it is not the same thing, but the way Jungkook looks at you with swollen lips and starry eyes, you feel powerful. Godly, even.
He dips back down, pressing a kiss to your mouth and one to your jaw. He leaves a wake of heat, stealing your breath away. Leaning back, you give him access to map the tender flesh of your throat and collarbones, threading your fingers through his hair.
Eyes closed, you let the world spin. His mouth is the finest delicacy, pressing kisses that are butterfly-soft all over your heated skin as he pulls the straps of your dress. You help him by slipping your arms out. He gathers the fabric and pulls down, sitting up as he does so.
Silk rolls against your skin. It’s cool in his bedroom, making you shiver as he reveals your lacy bra and matching garter. He tosses the dress, sitting high up on his knees as you lay splayed out for him.
“You know,” he ventures. “Normally I don’t like lingerie.” His fingers trace the swells of your breasts. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, goosebumps breaking out on your skin from the tantalizing touch. “But I could get used to it on you.”
“I only wear it on special occasions.”
Jungkook lowers himself, planting a wet kiss on the top of your right breast. “What’s the occasion?”
“I needed something to hold up my pantyhose.”
His laugh cools the fresh trail of spit he leaves on your skin, earning a violent shiver from you. He notices, eyes flicking up to look at you. They’re endless pools of dark, watching your every move as he slow-drags a finger up your stomach to the top of your bra. He hooks his finger over the top of the cup and pulls gently, the fabric scraping your over-sensitive nipple.
Everything he does feels overwhelmingly erotic. You watch, hypnotized and out of breath as he sticks out his tongue, circling your nipple lazily but not giving it attention directly. You let out a wavering moan, voice gone.
Oh so slowly, Jungkook flicks his tongue over the hardened peak of your nipple. You bow up into him, wanting more. He tsks at you and you go flat on the bed, fisting the sheets tightly to ground yourself as he grins, delighted.
“You listen well, huh?” You nod, head heavy. You can’t think of any words, thoughts bleeding together like liquid spilled across a watercolor canvas. “Is that how you like it? Being told what to do like a good girl?”
“Yes.” You suck in a sharp breath as Jungkook scrapes his teeth generously over your nipple.
“You weren’t a very good girl when you got on your knees and swallowed my cock whole in the bathroom.” He flicks his tongue back and forth, sending your eyes to the back of your head as you squirm underneath him. “You were quite the dirty girl, huh?”
“Both.”
Instead of answering you, Jungkook envelops your bud fully, sucking gently. Pleasure rolls through you, your pussy beginning to slow ache with arousal. Your head falls to the side, and you’re only able to pant and dig your nails into his sides where you grab him, either to hold him to you or push him away; you’re not sure.
Jungkook’s mouth is wicked, lavishing your tits. He sucks greedily, noisy as he slides his tongue from one breast to the other. When you look at him, you see sin. Your chest shines in the glowing light of the city with the evidence of his oral fixation, turning you on even more.
Your underwear sticks to you uncomfortably and your toes curl. It feels so good but you need so much more, dripping in a way that is maddening as he starts to trail his mouth downward. He is so so slow, tasting your skin, hands skimming your sides, scraping blunt nails across your sensitive flesh.
He’s hardly done anything and yet you’re shaking underneath him, more sensitive and turned on than you’ve ever been. You cannot recall ever being this close to falling apart from just having someone touch you and play with your tits.
But it’s the way Jungkook looks at you. The movements of his hands on your skin. The way every single brush of his tongue and every drag of his teeth scraping over you seems perfectly timed. Attuned.
It feels like Jungkook already knows every part of your body, and something about that both terrifies and excites you, kicking your adrenaline into high gear, heart rattling, pulse beating in your neck.
With hooded eyes, you watch Jungkook unclasp the garter belt. He is gentle and methodical, pulling every layer of clothing off with a touch so reverent that it can only be holy. He is solely focused on his task, tasting your skin when his mouth draws near enough to feel you.
When he has you naked and shaking, he sinks to the floor in front of the bed, hands pressing your thighs open. You feel how much of a mess you are, slick and cold as the air hits you. You whimper, pussy aching to the point of madness.
Jungkook chuckles. “Yeah? Does it ache, baby?”
“Uh-huh.”
He blows cool air right onto your pussy. The sensation is a pleasure-sting, making you twist in his hands, trying to angle away from him to escape the cold. He laughs again, pinning your hips firmly to the bed while he presses hot-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs into your skin. “I told you that you were going to watch me eat this pussy.”
With effort, you lean up on your elbows, watching with your mouth parted as Jungkook tilts forward agonizingly slow to run the flat of his tongue up your cunt. Your fingers squeeze the sheets, thighs flexing under his firm hands. It feels so good but it looks even better.
He smirks, dipping down again to slow-lick you from top to bottom. You’re hypnotized, feeling your stomach lurch violently at how good it feels and how good he looks sliding his tongue through your wetness.
“Taste just as sweet as that ice cream,” he murmurs, sliding his hands closer to the apex of your thighs to hold you open. He catches your clit with his lips, sucking softly. Your head falls back as sparks explode under your skin. “Mmm. Like this so much better though.”
“Feels so good,” you rasp, lifting your head to fixate your eyes on him again. “Fuck, Jungkook.”
His tongue dips into your hole, tasting you further, drinking you in. “How do you like it?” he asks, tongue slowly zigzagging upward to circle your bundle of nerves. You’re trembling under him, fingers going numb with how tight you hold the sheets. “Slow? Fast? Messy?”
“Messy.”
He hums and brings his entire mouth to you, sucking greedily, tongue laving back and forth. You fall backward, unable to support yourself as he complies with your request. You bring a hand up to cover your face, trying to catch your breath.
“Shit,” you gasp.
Jungkook presses his face into your cunt, licking and slurping at you. The sounds are pornographic and you don’t care, your other hand going down between your legs to card through his hair, pulling gently. He grunts in appreciation, fucking his tongue into you, wiggling expertly.
You feel thoroughly fucked. Your limbs are heavy, the world spinning as he devours you. He lets your hips cant against his face, encouraging you with soft little hums, mouth smacking against you.
“This fucking pussy,” Jungkook swears, sucking harshly at your folds. “Fuck.”
“Wanna taste,” you beg, thoughts sticky. “Lemme.”
“Fuck.”
Jungkook’s tongue slides through your folds before he stands up, leaning over you. You turn to look at him - his eyes are blown, the bottom half of his face shining with your juice. You whine and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out eagerly. He follows your lead, grabbing your jaw and squeezing as he gathers your slick and his spit in his mouth before letting it drip into yours.
You can barely taste yourself but you fold your tongue in anyway, closing your mouth to swallow. He seems dazed, pupils dilated and wild as he crashes his mouth to yours. Your teeth click together and you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself properly for a moment before he breaks away and drops back down, attaching his mouth to your pussy.
This time, Jungkook is vicious. He pulls you to the edge of insanity, your thighs closed around his head, his grip on your legs iron. He whips his head back and forth, tongue pressed hot and heavy against you. You climb climb climb climb -
You break.
Everything in you seizes. You writhe in his hands, coming hard against his mouth. He doesn’t stop, mouthing you through your orgasm until you’re screaming and pushing at his forehead, the stimulation morphing from white-hot bliss to pleasure-laced pain.
Jungkook lets you push him away only for him to climb up your body, ripping his shirt up as he goes. Your arms feel heavy and sluggish as you pull at his belt. Your fingers fumble, unable to work the button and the zipper, making him laugh.
“I got it,” he whispers, leaning forward to steal a brazen kiss. “You good?”
You nod, unable to form words. You are good, but you’re still dizzy from the orgasm.
Still, seeing him strip off his shirt has you ready to go again. You lean forward, hand running up the flexing planes of his abs as he shuffles out of his pants. His body is beautiful - cut lines meeting soft skin, whorls of ink staining his arm and chest. His thighs are powerful, flexing as he kicks off his briefs, freeing his hard, heavy cock.
You reach for him, grasping him in your hand and guiding him toward your messy heat. Jungkook groans as you run his swollen head up and down your folds, making his cock shine with your arousal.
“Just like that,” he rasps, nodding his head. “Make it nice and fucking wet.”
After a few shallow thrusts, you take the tip and press down into your entrance. You feel a slight ache as he stretches you open despite having fucked you less than an hour ago. You pant through it, watching between your legs as he presses in until his hips are flush with yours.
It is a tight fit. Full. But so, so good. Jungkook leans forward, placing his hands on either side of his head. You look up to see his necklaces dangling in your face, making you grin. You tug on them, bringing his mouth down to yours for a slow, gentle kiss.
When he pulls away, he smiles. “Wore them just for you.”
“Mmm good. Fuck me, please. Feels so full.”
Jungkook’s left hand goes down, hiking your leg up around his waist. This time is different. He sets the pace slow, pulling all the way out and then gliding back in. You’re drenched enough to make the slide easy, your walls stretching around him the more he fucks you, setting a steady rhythm.
Pleasure spreads from your cunt outward, unfurling like a blossom. The gentle drag of his cock is mind-numbing, your hands sliding up your stomach to cup your chest, squeezing your tits. He groans in appreciation, picking up his pace a little, the wet slap of skin against skin backtracked by your loud, heavy breathing.
Sheets cling to your damp skin. You feel your chest heaving, Jungkook’s skin sliding against yours as he pulls you closer. You raise your hips, rolling into him, meeting his thrusts. Your hands slip on his arms, trying to find purchase on anything to ground you.
“Fuck,” he gasps, trying to catch his breath.
He pulls away and grabs both of your legs, making you slip. He’s careful not to pull out, pressing your legs together and hooking them side-by-side over his right shoulder, leaning in. The strain on your thighs feels good and the angle hits deep.
You bring a hand to your mouth, biting into your knuckle. The pain is like a relief, an outlet to channel the pent-up orgasm building like an indestructible storm inside of you.
Soft, deep moans drip from Jungkook’s mouth. Your feet flex, your body curling as the pleasure spreads. It’s like you can't sit still, every part of you exposed and raw, sparking with electricity as he drives his hips forward relentlessly.
Your sweaty calf slips off of his shoulder. He slows and taps you on the leg. “Wanna ride me, baby?”
“Yeah. Wanna sit on it.”
“Good girl.”
You preen under the praise. He pulls out, leaving a wet trail of fluid as he does. You’re both a little fuck-drunk and uncoordinated, switching places as he tosses himself on his back, reaching up to grab pillows and stuff them under his shoulders and head.
Facing the windows, you throw a leg over his hips, surprising him by turning your back to him. He growls and slaps a hand on your ass, the sound loud in the room. You moan, spurred by the sting as you shift down to his hips.
Grabbing his wet cock, you hover over the tip, carefully sinking down his shaft. This angle makes him so much deeper - you swear you feel him in your stomach. Speared to capacity, you take a moment to breathe, overwhelmed and overheated. Jungkook doesn’t mind, content to knead your ass and hips, fingers pressing into muscle and relieving tension.
“That feels so nice,” you sigh, head rolling to the side. You close your eyes, pussy twitching and stuff full.
“Yeah? I’ll give you a massage this week.”
“You’re promising me so many things.”
“Have to keep you on the hook.”
“And on your cock?”
He squeezes the globes of your ass. “Definitely on my cock. Feel so good wrapped around me.”
Leaning forward, you put your hands on his shins, using him as leverage to slowly lift yourself. The drag feels delicious, and when you drop back down, it feels like the air is punched from your lungs. You fuck yourself on him at your own pace, listening to the sound of him falling apart, occasionally his hands cracking your cheeks.
Biting your lip, you drive yourself to the edge of madness, shaking as your head falls forward between your arms, his name dropping from your mouth. Jungkook slides his hands under you, adding his assistance as he lifts you up and down his cock, helping you bounce. It’s wet and nasty and you don’t care, enjoying every second of it.
“Can I play with this pretty little asshole?” he asks, voice rough.
“Uh-huh.”
Wet fingers slide between your cheeks. Jungkook presses a finger to your tight rim, not enough to breach but just enough to give mind-melting stimulation. You grind yourself in his lap, focusing on the way it feels every time you roll your hips. Jungkook’s finger circles your asshole in time, making you nearly sob as you work yourself to an orgasm, so fucking close to coming for the third time that night.
He encourages you softly, come on, baby, and yeah just like that, get yourself off dripping from his lips. It’s like honey to your ears, sweet and syrupy. You work him faster, fingers going tight in the sheets as you hit your stride, arching up toward another release.
It builds and builds until you’re right on the edge, so so so close that you’re nearly screaming, eyes squeezed shut, breath held, legs shaking.
You fall over the edge, barely able to keep your rhythm. You feel your pussy flood around him. You’re gulping down air, hips still moving, broken cries interrupted by mindless babble.
When you start to slow, Jungkook sits up. He nearly knocks you over but he catches you, carefully laying you flat on your stomach. You go boneless, barely there, and floating. Your last orgasm makes everything watery and opaque, Jungkook’s voice is like syrup when he speaks.
“You okay?” You nod vigorously, sticking your ass up a little bit. You’re a little bit useless, but you want him to come, want him to use you. He notices, laughing as he spreads your legs a little, mess running down your folds. “Such a good girl for me, giving me this swollen cunt to use. Fuck, you’re perfect.”
Tired and spent, you roll your head to the side, closing your eyes, just content to breathe as Jungkook starts to fuck you with abandon. It still feels good, making you tremble underneath him, bordering overstimulation. You toe that line of electricity, fingers twisted in the blanket, breath hissing.
Jungkook chases his orgasm, bending down to press a hot kiss onto your shoulder as he comes, tongue licking over the sweat and salt of your skin.
Time moves differently then - at least it feels like it. You don’t know how much passes between Jungkook’s orgasm and him pulling out, or him finally getting up and waking you up. You’re dizzy when you look at him, head cottony and full of almost-sleep.
Wordlessly, he takes you to the bathroom. You don’t have the mind to look at your surroundings or pay attention to what anything looks like, content to let him pull you into the shower and turn on the hot water. You’re barely there, lost between exhaustion and a post-bliss aura that makes you soft.
When Jungkook kisses you in the shower, it’s not with the intent to start something else, but it does wake you up. You become a little more lucid, kissing him sweetly, innocent. Afterward, Jungkook wraps you in a fluffy towel and guides you through his bedroom to another room in the house, too tired to change his sheets.
You crash down in the bed together, heavy-limbed and sated. Jungkook pulls you close, already half asleep, eyes shut and mouth parted. You curl into him, realizing you fit perfectly into the curve of his body. Like you were made for him.
Quickly you fall asleep, your last thought being that perhaps Jungkook is made for you.
-
Morning comes with a brush of a gentle mouth against your shoulder. You hum, turning your head toward the source of the touch. Jungkook’s lips press against yours, morning-slow, tired-soft. You’re sore everywhere - most notably between your legs - but you let him drag you into a lazy makeout session.
Neither of you are really awake. The sun has not come up yet, the world awash in dark grey. Warm blankets wrap around you, heat trapping between your body. Jungkook’s hand slides down your waist and dips between your legs. You part them, sighing as he swipes his fingers through you and groans when they come away wet.
No words are spoken. Only butterfly-soft breaths and gentle gasps of air as he sinks two fingers into your heat from behind. You open yourself up to him, falling into the feel-good stimulation of his touch as it brushes your G-spot.
It doesn’t matter that you’re tired and sore. You want more of Jungkook - cannot get enough of him. Already you’re thinking about the next time you can have him. Even as he lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing in slowly until he’s snug to your core, you’re thinking about how many more times you can take him. How many more ways you want to.
You’ve barely started and you’re addicted. Craving him. Reaching a hand around behind you to cradle his head to the back of yours, feeling his warm breath fan your ear as he fucks you slowly. Delicate. Far too intimate for the two of you, almost strangers.
If someone had told you two days ago that your night would start with locking eyes with Jungkook, a world-renowned artist, and end with securing a date that led to this moment, trembling in his arms as he makes you come again, you’d have thought they were crazy.
Now, you can’t imagine it turning out any other way. Can’t imagine not feeling him shift his hand around to play with your clit, bringing you swiftly to another cresting orgasm, leaving you shaking and broken and near weeping in his arms, coming down from your high as he finishes himself off, cock twitching inside of you.
Jungkook’s hand leaves your pussy, sliding up your stomach until he reaches the underside of your jaw. He grabs you, turning your face to his, stealing your mouth in a sloppy, searing kiss.
“Mine,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “Mine.”
Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Ask | Lights Playlist | Previous Episode | Tag Lists | Next Episode
#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#bts fanfic#jungkook imagine#jungkook series#minors dni#minors do not interact
408 notes
·
View notes