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saetoru · 9 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses.

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy.

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly.

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials.

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has.

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed.

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer.

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal.

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party?

i can be ur escort ;)

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you.

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before.

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes.

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself?

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy.

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly.

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway.

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy.

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are.

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood.

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can.

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams.

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird.

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room.

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact.

but not so bad.

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.”

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you

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hannieehaee · 4 days

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ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.2k (10k+ including kofi/patreon exclusive drabble)

a/n: the teaser for this got way more attention than i was expecting lol i hope u guys enjoy the final product!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better at the time.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

The position made it so that Jungkook was technically sitting behind you. Since you were on Mingyu's lap and sitting sideways on the couch, you were now being sandwiched by both boys. Jungkook still kept a small distance, making you have to turn around in Mingyu's hold to look at him.

While you probably embodied the image of a deer caught in headlights, Mingyu seemed completely relaxed, hands still comfortably on your waist.

"I was actually just catching Y/N up," said Mingyu, an overly cocky tone in his voice as his hands continued to feel up and down your waist.

"Oh? Without me?", chuckled Jungkook, leaning a bit closer.

"What the hell is happening?"

"How much did you tell her?", Jungkook ignored you, staring directly at Mingyu. His eyes would occasionally trail down to Mingyu's hands on your waist, a sour look overtaking his face.

It seemed like you had missed a few chapters in the friendship; there was some unspoken agreement between the two in which you were the main character. While it bothered you to think that they'd discussed you in private, the enigma of it all also excited you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the way in which Mingyu's entire demeanor had become possessive when you brought up dating. The reason didn't matter when you were already beginning to heat up.

"Just caught her up a little on the, uh, situation," said Mingyu with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, "Did you know she was thinking about dating?", he asked Jungkook, ignoring your presence while still having his hands on you.

Mingyu's hand had made it under your shirt by now, feeling the warm skin of your back.

"Oh? Since when?", he finally turned to you, scooting up a tiny bit more.

Due to his new proximity, you turned your head around, facing Mingyu again. That proved to be a mistake, as Mingyu was even closer to you. Jungkook also took advantage of this, braving a few more inches in closeness and letting his face come closer to your neck. He pushed your hair aside for better access, simply breathing against you as he awaited your answer.

Responding was the hardest thing in the world. Your mind was simply not working at the moment, the situation being far too intimate for you to fully function. On one side you had the huge hunk of a man that was Mingyu, warm hands against the bare skin of your back all while you sat on his leg. On the other, you had the gorgeous embodiment of a boyfriend that was Jungkook, whose fingers were now slowly running up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake while he nosed at your neck.

You had your two gorgeous best friends giving you the best type of attention all while your brain fizzled with your tipsiness.

"Answer him, baby," murmured Gyu.

"I- I just," you sighed when Jungkook began leaving feather-light kisses on your neck, "just thought about maybe getting b-back in the market? To meet someone and-"

"But you have us?", Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, seemingly unable to understand the platonic nature behind your friendship.

"That's what I said!", added Mingyu.

"But I want a boyfriend, n-not-"

"Boyfriend? Baby ...", Jungkook disconnected from you, grabbing your head to make you twist your neck in order to look at him, "That's just an upgrade. You want a boyfriend? We'll give you two. You don't need to be looking around for some loser," his eyes gradually lowered to your lips as he spoke, breath heavy against them.

"K-Kook, I-"

"Please say yes? Please just ... Let me show you? We can show you together. Right, Gyu?", he murmured, mere inches away from your mouth.

Before you knew it, you were nodding, far too desperate to voice your desire.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had thought of kissing Jungkook before. Being one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen before, it was hard at first to keep your relationship with him fully platonic, having had to beat down a small crush you had developed on him at an earlier age. His kiss, however, was not something you could've ever predicted.

Even with the awkward angle, and Mingyu's hands still on you, Jungkook gave you the dizziest of kisses. He knew how to get you hooked immediately, starting with a heavy kiss that had you chasing him the moment he pulled away. With a quiet and breathy laugh, he kissed you again, languid and wet in the way his tongue snuck between your lips, seamlessly making its way into your mouth to play with yours.

Shamelessly, you moaned against his lips, hands digging into Mingyu's shoulders as he continued to hold you. The slight awkwardness of making out with Jungkook while giving your back to Mingyu, yet still holding onto him, was present in your mind. However, Jungkook's sensual yet playful way of kissing you took up most of your attention.

But you knew Mingyu to be a whiny mess of a man at times, so you knew it wouldn't be long before he attempted to regain your attention. The evidence was in the way he felt you up all throughout, hands on your breasts as he pinched at your nipples through your shirt, groaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands. Occasionally, his hands would go down to your cunt, ghosting the place where you needed the most attention before making their way back up to your chest.

Pulling you away by the waist, you were forced to separate from Jungkook, eyes still closed as your lips chased his own. This time Jungkook's lips also attempted to regain possession over yours, with his tongue catching a few last nasty licks of your own.

"It's my turn," grumbled Mingyu, making you turn back to him, "You're on my lap but kiss him only? Baby, we're supposed to share you!", he pouted.

Giggling, you got even closer to him, cradling his head in your hands as you lightly pulled at his hair.

You turned to Jungkook one quick last time, "Kookie?"

His eyes lit up at your question, giving you a view of his round eyes as he gave you his full attention.

"Scoot closer, yeah? Put your hands around me," you encouraged him, humming in contentment when he went above and beyond and began to kiss your neck in the process.

Turning back to Mingyu, there was still an ever-so-present pout on his features, making you giggle again before finally kissing his lips.

Now, Mingyu's kiss was completely different from that of Jungkook's.

You had known Mingyu for as much time as you had Jungkook. He had a bit of a reputation when you had first met, being known as a guy who would occasionally sleep around with other idols, and sometimes staff. Now at 26, he had been retired from that era of his life for a while, but you'd be lying if you didn't say he always made you wonder. He always had all the girls swooning, instantly falling in love with his outgoing persona and his incomparable charisma. His looks also did not help matters. Being so handsome and likable, you occasionally fell victim to his charms, sometimes needing to snap yourself out of R rated thoughts you'd have about him on nights you were feeling particularly lonely.

His kiss felt exactly the way he looked. It was rich and insanely hot. Mingyu made love to your mouth, using his tongue in ways you didn't know a man could. He was domineering in the way he kissed you, with a firm hand on your jaw so he could position you in a way that allowed him to kiss you just the way he liked. And he liked it nasty. He liked it wet and filthy and in a way that made you sure you'd cum if he kissed you for a little too long.

You could barely catch up to the situation, having one gorgeous man fucking your mouth with his tongue while the other suckled at the most sensitive spots of your neck. In the meantime, your cunt was gushing with essence, already so extremely wet you were beginning to squirm in Mingyu's hold.

You attempted to pull away once, only to be enticed into kissing Mingyu again as he groaned against you, tongue seducing yours once more. You attempted to pull away twice, having his arms wrap tighter around you. The third time is when you finally succeeded, whining against Mingyu's mouth that you needed more. This caused yet another groan to come out of Mingyu, only to be echoed by Jungkook's own groan against your neck.

They both disconnected from you, looking to each other in a decisive manner, almost as if to formulate a game plan.

"I want her first," said Jungkook, slapping Mingyu's hands away from you and attempting to move you onto his lap.

Mingyu stopped him, holding you tighter against him as he rebutted, "You? She's already on my lap. I should have her first."

"Dude, I'm about to blow up. Just let me fuck her and then you can have her while I recover," be argued, hands fighting Mingyu's off of you.

"Why can't I choose?", you butt in, annoyed.

Their demeanors swiftly changed at your interruption, both pairs of hands now touching either your waist or thighs in an intimate yet caring manner.

"What do you want, pretty? My cock? Hmm?", asked Mingyu with a sweet voice in an attempt to convince you. Meanwhile, Jungkook wordlessly kissed at your neck again, nibbling at your ear and smirking at how you shuddered at the feeling.

"I-", you were already lightheaded again, "I wanna suck your dick, Gyu. Want Kookie to fuck me while I suck your dick," you murmured, hand holding Jungkook's head against your neck to keep his kisses coming.

Mingyu groaned at this, nodding absentmindedly. He began to shift, attempting to get up in order to get himself ready for you, but you stopped him.

"Undress me? Both of you?", you asked in the softest voice you could muster. You wanted both their hands on you at once, feeling your nude body for the first time. You knew their desire for you was already clouding their minds, so you wanted to do everything in your power to relish in every single touch, every look filled with lust they would give you.

Without another word, both boys got up, standing you up with them. Their hands were messy and uncoordinated as they got every garment off you, feeling you up in the process. Your breasts were groped and fondled multiple times in the process, while Jungkook pressed your ass up against him any chance he could, groaning at the slight stimulation.

Finally undressed, you decided to turn around once more, facing Jungkook as you kissed him with no warning. You smirked into his mouth when you felt Mingyu grab you from behind and press your ass up against him, grinding slowly against you. You knew it wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but you enjoyed knowing he was needy enough to use you in such a fruitless way just for a little stimulation.

Meanwhile, your hands went straight to Jungkook's oversized top, hands sneaking underneath to feel up his muscular form, hands harshly rubbing on his strong chest. It seemed Jungkook was overly sensitive to your touch. He whined needy breaths into your mouth as you felt him up. Taking off his shirt, you moaned as you saw the gorgeous figure of your best friend.

God, he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't wait until you saw the rest of his pretty body, sculpted by the endless hours of work you knew he always put into the gym. The endless hours in which you had accompanied him to said gym, always having to look away before you started to have inpure thoughts of your best friend.

He helped you in the removing of his pants and boxers, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your neck, he groaned against your skin, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after having wanted you for so long.

Behind you, you heard shuffling, assuming Mingyu to have been removing his own clothes as he waited for his turn of your attention to come. You felt badly at leaving him hanging for too long, knowing him to have an overly impatient disposition when he didn't receive attention for extended periods of time.

Playing with Jungkook's cock just for a little longer, you gave him one last kiss before turning around and trapping Mingyu in his own kiss. Unlike with Jungkook, you didn't linger long, opting instead to push him down the large conversation pit – thank god for Jungkook's insanely big mansion – located just a few steps away from the couch where it had all begun. This way you could have all the space you wanted to play with your friends.

Now lying down, Mingyu looked you up and down like you were his next prey, licking his lips at the sight and motioning at you to come sit on him despite knowing that you wanted something else.

"C'mon, baby. Ditch him. Don't you want me instead?," he leaned upwards to try and convince you of sitting on him.

It was hard to deny him with his cock staring up at you in such a challenging manner. He was equally as gorgeous as your other bestie, but in so many different ways. Mingyu was so big and thick and buff, he had you salivating at the mere sight of him. He was so toned yet so thick, and his dick matched perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had your eyes rolling back already. Did he really mean it when he said he'd be yours? That he and Jungkook would share you? The idea of a boyfriend sounded stupid in retrospect.

Despite all your better judgment telling you to jump Mingyu and let him impale you with his cock right then and there, you knew that starting off with Jungkook would give you a better buildup. You also knew that based on Jungkook's competitive personality, he'd become even whinier than Mingyu if you didn't let him take care of you first.

Fully determined, you turned back to Jungkook, who had been standing there in a trance, now having a better view of your body and keeping his eyes religiously glued to it. You grabbed onto him and walked yourself back to the large conversation pit, eyes glued to Jungkook's in a seductive manner as you guided him to the area in which Mingyu was already lying down. In only a few seconds, you let go of Jungkook and positioned yourself in front of Mingyu at an eye level with his cock while he sat up and looked down at you with a pained look in his eyes. In all fours, your back faced Jungkook, hinting at him to get behind you so that you could finally get back to business.

With a groan, Jungkook knelt behind you, needy hands feeling the curve of your back as he pushed you up against him. In the meantime, you began softly playing with Mingyu's cock, making him throw his head back at finally receiving some attention where he'd been craving it for so long.

"You're so pretty, fuck ... No one deserves you, baby. Too fucking pretty n perfect n fuck ... Can I fuck you now, pretty? Hmm? Let me have this pretty pussy while you suck off your bestie," rambled Jungkook from behind you, head lowered so he could kiss at your hips.

You whined and pushed up your ass against him, giving him the green light to do whatever he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

"Fuck, wait. Condom?", he asked, making Mingyu groan, as you were about to engulf him in your mouth but also halted your movements to tend to Jungkook's question.

"It's okay, Kookie. The company put me on some new birth control. You can fuck me raw," you smirked up at Mingyu, giggling at yet another groan of his.

"He gets you raw? Baby, I'm the one who started all this! How's that fair?", he huffed.

Taking a quick separation from Jungkook, you gestured for Mingyu to lean down so he could meet you halfway. With a wet kiss, you made your way to his ear and whispered against it.

"I'm saving you for last, baby. Gonna ride you til I cry ... Now be good and cum in my mouth?"

He groaned so loudly his entire body vibrated under you as you crawled your way back to your previous position. Jungkook simply laughed at the interaction.

Feeling you up once more, Jungkook finally grabbed onto his cock and lined himself up, groaning at the gushing wetness that coated his cock as he entered you. Your own moan was masked by Mingyu's cock, which you were currently working into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck ... It's so tight, baby ... It's so fuckin' warm n tight n so pretty, baby. Such a pretty cunt," babbled Jungkook, immediately pussydrunk.

Could he be blamed? He had wanted you for years. From the moment he met you, he cursed at himself for being so damn shy and initiating a friendship with you rather than showing you his interest. His members constantly teased him over it, even so many years into his crush. When he first found out Mingyu also had similar ideas in mind, he felt conflicted. But he ultimately grew close enough to the two of you to the point where he wouldn't mind sharing you with his bestest of friends.

Your muffled moans completely took him out of it, taking away any ability to think or speak. He simply chased after you with his hips, canting them against your own as you pushed back against him.

"Is it good, pretty? Like my cock?" he winced at the way you tightened any time he'd speak to you.

"So good, Kookie. So big ...," you pulled away from Mingyu to breathe before going back to licking and sucking at his tip, moaning against him as his eyes rolled back.

You were practically centipede in Jungkook's living room, with Mingyu lying on his back as you gagged on his cock and Jungkook pounding into you from behind. All your senses were overtaken by the mindless quest for pleasure you had all taken on.

"You're so good with your mouth, pretty ... Fuck, look so pretty stuffed of cock," Mingyu gasped, throwing his head back, "Like how he fucks you, baby? Just wait til I get to you ... Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so good ..."

You moaned against his cock, already thirsty for him even as Jungkook continued to ram into you. Pushing your ass back against him, you felt Jungkook's nails dig into the skin of your hips, adoring how malleable you were for him.

"Baby ... 'm gonna cum soon ... Feels so fucking good, pretty. You're so fucking g-good for me. Wanted you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea ..." murmured Jungkook as he entered his high, hips lacking any control in their movements.

Jungkook had always been the most sensible of the bunch, never holding back from expressing how strongly he felt for the people in his life. The pleasure must've been so much that it made him unfiltered in revealing the undeniable effect you had on him.

"W-where do I cum? Fuck, gonna fucking cum, it's so good, baby. Take it so good for me, shit ..."

You were too busy gagging on cock to respond right away, so you had to take a minute to pull away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while also holding yourself up with the other one.

"Inside? Cum inside, Kookie. I'll- I'll cum too," you were breathless, barely able to get the words out as a petulant Mingyu whined at you to help him finish, hands going behind your head and lightly encouraging you to get your mouth back on him.

"Inside? Fuck, okay, baby. Gonna fill you up, yeah?", he groaned, muttering to himself right afterwards, "Fucking finally ..."

His hips sped up drastically as his high approached, making you choke around Mingyu not just due to his girth, but due to the intense ramming against your ass. Though harsh and with an unmatchable energy, you continued to try and push your hips back toward his own, wanting to milk him dry as your own high invaded your senses.

His desperation for you made you feel so incredibly good, like you were the prettiest girl to ever exist. It made you arch your back a little deeper, take a little more of Gyu's cock, dig your nails a little harsher into the cushion of the conversation pit. You heightened all your actions just to feel him a little more.

And then it reached its crescendo. All while Jungkook whimpered and cried at how sensitive he felt at your tightening walls, Mingyu also found his own high. You were too distracted with your own orgasm to acknowledge him asking you for permission to cum in your mouth, instead suctioning more intensely to wordlessly give him an enthusiastic yes, please fill up my mouth with your cum.

By the time Mingyu filled up your mouth, Jungkook had already finished his high, now kneeling behind you as he peppered kisses all over your back and hips, whispering against you how good you had been for him and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of you. Fully drunk on the aftermath of his high, Jungkook loved on you like any lover would.

In the meantime, you attempted to swallow every bit of Mingyu's essence, moaning against his cock afterwards as you licked at every lone drop that made it out of your mouth.

By the end of it, you were all completely spent. Each of you dropped one by one, with Jungkook lying on his back as he caught his breath, you falling onto Mingyu, and Mingyu attempting to pull you up to climb his body so that he could kiss you again.

With the very little energy you had regained, you crawled up Mingyu's body, making out with him as he attempted to lick his way into your mouth in order to taste himself in your mouth. Kissing evolved into feeling each other up, which then became grinding your now sensitive pelvises against each other. Surprisingly, Mingyu was still half-hard, which gave you the perfect surface to grind your cunt into. He sat up, making you sit up with him before beginning to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

"Baby? Gonna ride me like you said, right? Just .. Fuck, want that pretty pussy, baby. It's my turn to have that tiny little cunt wrapped around me, yeah?", he murmured between kisses.

You gave in to him easily, gasping at every word that accompanied every kiss.

Nodding mindlessly, you almost forgot to think back to Jungkook, who was probably still recovering from his orgasm.

"W-what about Kookie?," you mumbled when Mingyu began positioning you above his cock.

"Don't worry about me, pretty. Just enjoying the view", you turned back to see Jungkook lying back on his elbows, one hand on his semi-flacid cock as he began to work himself up at the sight of you sitting on your best friend.

Well, that worked well enough for you.

"Now pay attention to me, princess. Been ignoring me all day today," Mingyu grabbed onto your chin to make you look at him, thumb softly rubbing at your chin as he tilted your head back.

You were insanely wet by now, not only from your orgasm but also from just Mingyu's mere presence. Knowing how intense and touchy Mingyu always was in PG scenarios, you couldn't help your eyes rolling back at the thought of him between the sheets. His heavy cock on your tongue had been enough of a taste to know how good it'd feel when finally inside you.

His strong hands lifted you up a bit, rescuing his dick from under you as he helped you position it under you, holding tightly onto your hips when you began to lower yourself down. You would've moaned and whined at the immense stretch, but Mingyu had different plans for your mouth. His thick fingers slipped into your mouth, making you gag a bit before you began sucking on them.

Too many things were on your mind, with all your senses being invaded by Mingyu – though also accompanied by Jungkook's low moans of pleasure behind you. Even as your body was bouncing against Mingyu's, attempting to match his thrusts, your head was completely empty of any thought. All you could think about was Mingyu, and his cock, and his fingers, and his pretty body, and and and-

"Feel good, princess? Love my cock, hmm? Tell me how much you like my cock, angel," he groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth, using the wet fingertips to tweak at your nipple as his mouth engulfed the opposite one.

"So much ... It's so big. Fuck, Gyu, you're s-so big ..."

Barely able to formulate words, you cried as Mingyu helped you bounce on him, occasionally opting to grind in a way that made your clit get the perfect stimulation. It all felt too good. Mingyu's gigantic hands on your body while his lips suckled on your tits as Jungkook groaned so prettily behind you. You were far too sensitive and alert to hold back from the life-altering orgasm that was to come. So, you voiced this concern to Mingyu.

His response came in the form of flipping you around and trapping you underneath him. His big hands held onto your waist, lifting you a bit so he could angle himself just right. Eyes rolling back and nails digging onto the bed, you lost yourself in him. Jungkook seemed to be completely lost to pleasure also. You could finally see him after Mingyu flipped you over, and fuck ... He looked so desperate, so depraved in the way he hammered into his cock, mouth permanently agape as he let out little praises to you.

"I need you to cum for me, okay, princess? Show Jungkook how good I make you feel. Need you to milk me dry, yeah? Can you do that for me?", he dumbly talked down at you with a tone that could only be seen as patronizing in any other context. But here, you loved it. You loved how dumbly he treated you. Because it was true. You could not think, you could not speak. Your senses were all gone and replaced by a constant stream of cock cock cock as Mingyu finally made you reach your orgasm.

Mingyu played with you through the entirety of your orgasm, rubbing at your clit with one hand while holding you with the other, his lips constantly attached to your tits.

"G-gyu, I- fuck! C-cumming! Please, I-" you had no idea what you were begging for as your orgasm completely took over, making you tighten around Mingyu as he mumbled into your chest, letting you know of his own impending high.

Despite having already had an equally fulfilling orgasm, this second one brought out a new sensitivity in you. Falling under Mingyu, you whimpered at the way he flipped you over again to lay on his chest, caressing your back and pressed you up against him, even more when Jungkook laid beside you and softly ran his hands through your hair.

The three of you laid there together, with you halfway laying on Mingyu while Jungkook laid on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you. Behind you, you could feel Jungkook's flacid member, meaning he had also reached a second high along with you and Mingyu. Lying there together, completely sober now, you eventually let sleep take over you, nuzzling into both boys in a satisfied manner.

A few days passed by since your encounter with the 97s. They were pretty eventful as far as your job went, attending a few photoshoots and practicing constantly for whatever new activity was coming up for your group. However, things between you and your friends had remained stagnant. You didn't think they had ghosted you or anything like that, but the timing of your busy schedules picking up right after breaking your platonic relationship did make you anxious.

When you'd woken up that next day, Mingyu was gone, having left one of the packs of ramen cooked and ready for you with a note attached detailing how much he enjoyed last night, saying he had wanted to stay and say goodbye but had a a schedule that had been calling for him. It was signed with his name and a little heart.

Jungkook had been half-awake already, having carried you to his bed when he had woken up, right after Mingyu's departure. You had wanted to talk about last night, but also had a schedule over at the company, so you left after cuddling with a sleepy Jungkook for a short while, not really discussing anything, yet sharing a sweet kiss as a goodbye for the day.

And so you hadn't really seen them since then. It was the unfortunate reality of idol life. That night had been the first in a few weeks in which you'd even been able to see each other. You were unsure when the next one would come, but you needed it to be soon. The remembrance of that night kept messing with your head, especially any time you'd see either of your friends in passing at the Hybe building, never being free long enough for a worthy interaction.

On the fourth night since the incident, you finally had more time off for yourself, hoping maybe they did too. Mingyu got ahead of you in that aspect, texting you the previous night, somehow aware of your time off, and asking you over. There was no deeper interpretation to be had in his message, as it was pretty straightforward. Nervous as to whether to expect a repeat of last time or a conversation about it, you let him know you'd be there.

Jungkook and Mingyu had always been closer to each other than to you. Going out together was always easier for them since no scandalous rumors would arise from it. They were also often in the same friend groups, knowing more male idols than you did due to the nature of the industry. It was easy for you to assume that they had already spoken about what had happened, even before it happened. Throughout the night, they kept referencing some type of agreement they'd had regarding you and dating. It was hard to assume, but you wondered if they meant sharing you – as strange as it sounded.

Your questions would only be answered tonight, leading you to some anxiety before finally arriving to Mingyu's.

"I missed you," were Mingyu's first words when he welcomed you, trapping you in a warm hug as he usually did. Hugging Mingyu was, in your opinion, one of your life's greatest privileges. He was so big and strong, it always felt like being completely engulfed in the safest of spaces.

His hug was followed by one of Jungkook's, less tight in nature but just as rewarding. He held onto your waist and nuzzled against you, always attempting to bury himself in whoever he held in his arms.

Quietly, they guided you to Mingyu's living room, slightly smaller than Jungkook's but still very much reminiscent of a millionaire's home.

You looked over to the coffee table, tilting your head in confusion at the presence of cans of diet soda rather than the usual alcohol Mingyu would always provide. Sensing your confusion, Mingyu chuckled.

"No alcohol today. Thought you might wanna talk about what happened," he sat down on the couch, patting the empty space next to him so you'd join him. Behind to you, Jungkook joined, sitting on a lone seat facing you and Mingyu. No matter where you looked, the two boys would be in front of you.

"We've been keeping you in the dark, huh?," pondered Jungkook, handing you a freshly opened can of soda, "Sorry about that. No easy way to tell your best friend you're into her."

Oh. He was going straight to the point.

"I like you, if that wasn't clear already," he let out a breathless chuckle, attempting to hold eye contact but failing.

He was much better at this when he was working his way into your pants.

"And so do I," interrupted Mingyu.

Wait.

"Are you-"

"We both like you."

"I- Have you talked about this?"

"Uh, it's come up, yeah," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't really know what to say ..."

"We just ... You had fun the other night, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was great," you took a breath, "but we're friends. Right?"

You weren't sure if you were being rational or not. Did you like Mingyu and Jungkook? Sure. But together? At the same time? You had never considered such type of relationship.

"We- we don't have to be just friends," added Jungkook, not much confidence in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again, "We like you, and we know that you like us back. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. That night would've gone very differently if you didn't."

You could've lied. You could've lied and left it off as an amazing one night stand with your two best friends. But the thought of never feeling what you felt that night ever again was not something you wanted to risk. It wasn't just about the pleasure. You had meant what you said that night; you wanted a stable relationship. You wanted someone to call a best friend, but be more than that. Someone to hold you at night. The three of you had always been glued by the hip, but you had never really thought of what it'd be like to take the next step – to have them be that person (or those people).

There were just too many questions in your head. Would this change your relationship negatively? Would they actually want to share you? Would this go anywhere?

You opted for answering Jungkook's question with another question.

"Are you okay with both of you liking me?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Mingyu ultimately answered.

"We've discussed it," he started, "When we first realized we both liked you, it did cause some tension. But the closer we got to you, the more we realized that we just wanted to be with you. Whether as friends or as more, we just wanted you."

You gulped at the confession, feeling your face heating up all of the sudden.

"I- I don't know what to say, I- I like you too. Both of you. I always thought that it was just as friends, but ... there'd be moments where I'd wonder. And after that night, I just-"

Jungkook leaned forwards, grabbing onto your hands. He smiled, ignoring most of your words and paying attention to what he cared about the most – you liked him.

"You like me back? Us? Do you- We could treat you so right. I- I've wanted you since we met. I've liked you for so long and ... Not just for sex. We could be more," his words were slightly frantic in nature, almost as if he wanted to sell something to you.

He didn't need any selling. You liked him. It became more and more glaring by the minute.

"Nothing has to change. We've been friends for this long. Just ... That guy you're looking for? To settle down with? That could be us," added Mingyu, placing a palm on your thigh for reassurance.

"What happens if I say yes?"

Mingyu's eyes grew dark.

"Do you want the PG version?"

You shook your head, mouth agape as you looked to Mingyu.

His face lit up as he leaned closer and closer to you, lips approaching the sensitive spots he had discovered on your neck just a few days ago. Stopping for just one moment, he looked to Jungkook to gesture he sit opposite of you, making you become sandwiched by both men yet again.

Now with both boys kissing down your neck, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch, attempting to fight the shudders escaping your body at the sensation.

"As our girlfriend ... we'd take you on dates," Mingyu sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, licking at it afterwards, "buy you pretty gifts, keep you warm at night," he took a pause, licking up the length of your neck, "take care of you every day."

Jungkook continued from where Mingyu left off, leaving soft whispers of kisses under your ear, "We share you. We take you home, cook for you, protect you," he nipped at your lobe, "We love you like no one else could ever imagine."

By now, you were gone. Through their whispered promises, their hands had decided to intrude your space yet again. Jungkook's had found a home between your legs, running up your skirt and gracing at your cunt, but only enough to have you puffing out breaths of desire. Mingyu's had migrated upwards, lowering the straps of your dress and liberating your breasts, hands needy as they pulled and tweaked at your nipples.

"What do you say, princess?", Mingyu pulled away, lips reaching your own, "Wanna have two boyfriends?", he pecked at your lips sensually.

"Mhmm ...", you nodded pathetically, not trusting your voice.

Jungkook groaned at your answer, hand finally slipping inside your panties, "Good girl ..."

"Fuck, gonna treat you so good, gorgeous," said Mingyu, continuing to kiss at your lips tongue seeking your own.

His lips trailed down to your breasts, sensually licking at your nipples, gradually giving them more and more attention. By the end of it, you were crying at the sensitivity.

Jungkook continued to play with your cunt, driving his fingers through your folds at a rhythmic pace that made your hips take a mind of their own, grinding upwards with a complete lack of coordination.

You were so focused on Jungkook's fingers that you didn't notice Mingyu making his way down your body, now kneeling between your legs as his lips made their way up your thighs, marking them to his heart's contentment.

"So fucking pretty ... Been wanting your pretty thighs around my head for years, princess ...", he mumbled to himself, nosing his way towards your cunt. When he finally arrived, he nudged Jungkook's finger's away, sticking his nose against your cunt as he took a shameless whiff of your scent, groaning gruttaly against you.

"So good ... Fuck, need this pretty cunt so bad. Can I have it, baby? Hmm? Let me have a taste of this pretty pussy?" he asked between depraved licks of your cunt through your panties.

Hiccuping back a sob, you nodded, opening your legs wider as you took a hold of Jungkook's hand for support.

Needing no further confirmation, Mingyu went straight into your cunt, ignoring the obstacle of your panties by pushing them aside. In the meantime, Jungkook's hand went to your chin, turning your whiny lips to his own and giving you a languid kiss. His tongue played with your own, taking advantage of your constant cries of pleasure to suck at your tongue and bite your lips as much as he desired.

Your hands went from holding onto Jungkook for support to his pants, undoing the drawstring as he continued to kiss you. With shaky hands, you snuck your hands in, pulling out his hardened cock as you began to jerk it in your hand. Now you were even; equally pathetic cries being released into each other's mouths as you both chased your highs.

Beneath you, you almost missed the way Mingyu's hips began humping against the couch, groans being released into your cunt due to the stimulation. You were far too distraed by kissing Jungkook, but Mingyu's eyes were rolled all the way back as his hips became uncontrollable, cumming in his boxers just moments before he licked you to completion.

Even as you came, Mingyu's lips didn't leave your cunt, just as yours stayed on Jungkook's. The room was a mess of wet sounds of tongues as Mingyu finally separated himself from you to take a breath.

"Prettiest fucking cunt," he mumbled to himself as he let himself lay on the floor of his living room in exhaustion.

"C-cum! 'm gonna cum ...", Jungkook managed to mumble against your lips, attempting to pull back but being enticed by your lips to continue kissing. Your hands sped up at his warning, warning his pretty seed to coat your hands as he reached his nirvana.

With a last groan, Jungkook froze against you while riding his high, hips pathetic in their movements against your hand. Bringing up your hand to your lips, you made a show of licking the remnants of cum, grinning when you beard a unison of groans from both boys.

Out of breath, Jungkook leaned against you, cuddling into you with a satisfied yet smile.

"So, was that a yes?"

Mingyu made his way to the couch again, taking up the last bit of personal space you had.

You chuckled.

"Yes. That was a yes."

to read short 2.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, oral (f receiving), jerking off, cucking, penetrative sex, reunion sex, etc.

wc: 296 (teaser); 2770 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Fuck, missed you so much. You have no idea," whispered Jungkook against your neck.

After having cornered you in one of Hybe's many endless hallways, Jungkook had grabbed you by the hand and led you to an empty changing room, pushing you up against the door and burying his face in your neck. It was mostly innocent, sans the feathery kisses down your neck. His hands were still in appropriate places.

"I was only gone for a month," you giggled against him.

"A month too long. Do you know how annoying Mingyu gets when you're not around? Jesus Christ," he groaned in mock annoyance, refusing to separate from your neck.

Breathing you in, he hummed, arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you.

"Where is he, by the way?"

"What, not enough attention from one of your boyfriends?", he softly bit at your neck in defiance, licking at the mark he left when you jumped in surprise.

"No! Just ... Missed seeing you two together."

After only a month of entering a romantic relationship, you were embarrassed to admit, but you had become quite needy, always wanting them around. This had led to a few problems within your company, which was blissfully unaware of your three-way relationship, but still had to deal with how much closer you had gotten – especially in public. There had been a few more rumors as of late, though none actually traced back to anything credible.

"He's at the gym. Should be here any minute, though, since he knows you're back."

"Hmm," you hummed, disconnecting him from your neck despite his complaints, "Wanna start without him?" you grinned.

With a boyish nod and a peak of his bunny teeth, the pretty boy agreed, dragging you over to one of the empty couches in the room.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

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verstappen-cult · 1 month

Note

I have a request for max!

Reader is a strategist for Mercedes. Max and her, they got married in secret and have a 2 year old daughter together.

I know this is not much to work with but you do you!

(I love your fics <3)

hi bestie! i left the mercedes’ strategist plot out of this, but i hope you still like it! btw this was gonna be really short and ended up being this other thing. <333

You look out the car window and then to your daughter playing with her favorite plushie next to you. She doesn’t know that you’re about to be the topic of conversation for the next week — month even. She only knows that there are gonna be a lot of people trying to take pictures of you both, and that you’re gonna see Dad’s friends too.

“Hey, baby.” You whisper, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. “You’re ready to see Daddy?” She smiles at the mention of her favorite person in the whole world, forgetting all about her toy.

“Where are we?” She asks, looking out the window.

You lift her up onto your lap, placing a kiss on her temple. “We’re gonna watch papa just like we do from home every Sunday.”

“We have fun watching papa.”

“Yes, so,” You take your bag and her plushie before taking a deep breath. “let’s go and have some fun, then.”

It’s no secret to anyone that you and Max have been dating for quite a few years now. You used to be more public about your relationship, but then you got pregnant and Max decided that it was best if you kept things a little more private, and you were more than happy to do it until you started to miss going to the races and seeing him more often.

Max was a bit reluctant at first, but after some — a lot — of convincing he accepted. The two of you agreed to put some boundaries and to take things slowly. The first step was going to the Monaco Grand Prix, so, you wouldn’t have to travel and he could be home by the end of the day with his favorite girls. And, if things become too much, you can just go home.

The moment you set foot on the paddock, you know there is no going back. You feel nervous and like your whole body is on fire, but when you look at your daughter’s smile as you hold her in your arms, you forget about everything.

“Mama, look! Papa!” She points to the giant banner to your left. And there he is, alongside a few of the other drivers.

“Oi!” Dani calls from a few meters away. You wish he would not have done it because it draws attention you really didn’t want.

“Uncle Dani!”

You see the exact moment people recognize you, reporters starting to make their way to you at the same time you hurry to Dani’s side. He has a big, bright smile on his face, he’s always smiling but you think he’s genuinely happy to see you and your daughter.

“Hi, Dani.” The Aussie wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your cheek as a greeting.

“Hey, angel.” Your daughter makes grabby hands at Dani and, obviously, he immediately takes her in his arms. “Did you miss uncle Dani?” She nods, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

“Have you seen Max?” You ask him, but he shakes his head, too busy paying attention to whatever your daughter is telling him in the ear.

You don’t feel comfortable. It’s been so long since you’ve been in the paddock that now feels like you’re attending your first race for the very first time. You were nervous then, you are terrified now as you see reporters approaching, calling your name and asking about your daughter. It’s not that they don’t know you and Max have a daughter, you and Max have been pretty open about her but always leaving her face out of the family photos you share on social media. However, this is news to everyone. This is a headline. And you know they’re just doing their job.

“Let’s go find him, okay?”

You barely hear him, trying to politely tell the reporter by your left that you will not give any interview and to stop asking about your daughter. Daniel has to give you a little pat on the back to make you walk, sending death glares to the people surrounding you in the process.

There are phones and video cameras following you along the paddock, and you think you should’ve accepted Max’s offer of waiting for you at the entrance. But you didn’t want to be a burden. You were pretty confident about handling things by yourself but now… not so much.

“Hey, are you okay? You’re a little pale.” Dani’s voice is soothing. You’re glad he’s carrying your daughter because you don’t feel strong enough to do it. Someone behind you — one of the many, many people following you — pushes you, making you bump into another person by your side. “Watch out! There’s a baby here!”

Daniel is mad and doesn’t hesitate in wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you inside the nearest place that turns out to be the McLaren hospitality.

“I’m gonna call Max, alright?”

“What’s happening outside? Oh, you’re here!”

“Uncle Lando!” Your daughter’s voice is what finally pulls you out of your head.

You walk to Dani, taking her in your arms. “Did you miss Uncle Lando too?”

“Is something wrong?” Lando asks again, bopping the little girl on the nose.

“So many people,” You breathe out, closing your eyes for a second. “I didn’t think it was going to be this way, really.”

“Well, it’s a big deal that you’re here. Both of you.” Lando looks outside, reporters and cameras ready to catch a glimpse for when you have to leave. “Do they know? The media, I mean, about…” He looks to your hand, right where your wedding ring is.

You groan, hiding your face in your daughter’s neck, making her giggle. “No, but I’m sure it will be worse when they notice.”

There’s a huge commotion outside that draws your attention. When you look, you find Max trying to make his way through the mass of people. Seeing him makes you relax immediately, but then he’s pushing a man when this shoves a microphone in his face and you don’t feel so relaxed anymore.

“Shit, shit” Daniel is quick to open the doors and go outside, a few members of McLaren following him. “Can you hold her, please?”

Your daughter goes willingly with Lando as you run outside. Daniel stands between the reporter and Max, his hand on your husband’s chest trying to stop him from jumping over him to get to the man.

There’s a bigger commotion when they see you, everyone shouting your name and asking questions that you don’t pay attention to, but it’s enough to make Max forget about fighting the reporter.

Max runs to you, hands cupping your face. “Hey, baby. Are you okay? Something happened?”

“I’m okay. Just—let’s go inside, please.”

Max doesn’t hesitate. He grabs your hand tightly, not caring about being seen going inside McLaren hospitality, not when you and his daughter are there needing him.

“Papa!”

Your husband’s face lights up, that pretty smile you love so much making its way onto his face. "Mijn mooie meisje.” The tension on his face goes away the moment he takes her in his arms.

“You wanna go home?” Lando asks you, handing you a glass of water.

“Yes, you’re going home.” Max answers for you, hugging his daughter tightly against his chest.

“We are not. We knew this would happen, well, not at this scale but,” You shrug, taking a sip of water. “I don’t wanna go. We should’ve planned this better.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Daniel jokes, but when no one laughs he just stands there awkwardly. “Look, she’s already here. You’re not gonna send her home, are you?”

Lando bites his lip before saying, “You won’t be able to hide forever.”

“I know!” Max sighs, putting down his daughter on one of the sofas. “Why don’t you play while I talk with your uncles for a bit?” Unaware of everything, she just takes her plushie and waits for you to be finished. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel unsafe.”

“We’re safe here. Everyone will take care of us, I know that.” You take his hand, thumb caressing the back of it. “It was just the shock of experiencing all of this again. It reminded me of the first time I attended a race.” You say, shyly.

“Oh, I remember that.” He has that special glint in his eyes that tells you that he remembers every little detail of that day.

“Uh, gross.” Lando pretends to throw up, earning a playful push from Daniel.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Yes, love. Besides, how are you gonna tell her she won’t be watching papa race?” You look at your little baby, talking with her plushie and showing the toy around. “I don’t know which one of us is more excited.”

“You know it’s only a matter of time before they notice this?” Max takes your hand to his lips, kissing your wedding ring.

“I want them to know.”

“Oh, thank God!” He exclaims, peppering kisses all over your face. “I hate not wearing my ring on race weekends.”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader

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miraclewoozi · 3 months

Text

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

One.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

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spencereidluver · 5 months

Text

A is for About Time

summary: You’re paired up with Spencer on a mostly physiological case… He’s impressed with how many of his obscure references you understand and how you’re able to carry on conversations with him unlike anyone else.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: details of a case: strangulation, blood writing

“y/n and Reid, I need you to stay here at the station while the rest of us go search the area.” Hotch said, handing you and Spencer each a file. “There’s information about the case in here. The PD thinks we’re dealing with someone who is able to outsmart that of the normal man. We need both of your heads on this. Got it?”

You and Spencer both nodded. You were smart, no denying it, but you know he knows everything you know times two.

You’ve only been in the BAU six months, but you’d only need to know Spencer two minutes to know just how intelligent he is. You don’t quite understand why Hotch wants you to stay back on this case with him, but who are you to deny the man.

You and Spencer take the Manila folders and make your ways to the conference room. He does a little jog to catch up with you. “You know, I’ve never had anyone else stay back with me on cases like these.” He says as he slows his step to match yours.

“Yeah, we’ll maybe you’ve never had anyone quite on your level Dr. Reid.” you joke as you pull the glass door open. There’s a bulletin board with photos from the case. You see Spencer grimace at them out of your peripheral. No matter how many cases you go on, this is one thing that will never be easy for anyone in this job.

Spencer sprawls out his folder on the half-circle-shaped wooden table in the center of the small office. The first image is a photo from the crime scene. It’s a white brick wall with blood writing, it reads:

“in this moment, she was mine, mine, fair, perfectly pure and good”

“It’s a poem.” He says. “Porphyria’s Lover.”

You interrupt him, “a mid 1800’s poem written by Robert Browning.”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“A poem in which a beautiful woman’s lover strangles her with her own hair? Yeah I’ve heard of it.”

He flips through a few more pages in the folder. They’re all just copies of what’s on the bulletin. You’re not too sure why you were each given folders containing the same pictures, but I guess consistency is key in this job.

“I never took you as an 1800s poem freak, y/n.” He says with a smile that you can’t quite tell the intention behind.

“Maybe you’re not as many levels ahead of me as you thought, Dr. Reid.”

_____

It’s only day two of the case, but between stupid jokes and bonding over old literature, there’s only one thing you cannot seem to pinpoint the reasoning for. And probably the only way you’ll be able to directly connect to the unsub.

He’s working off a dating app. He searches for women who meet his physical criteria, then stalks them until he’s able to pounce. Smart guy. Very smart guy.

“The one thing I just cannot understand is why if the poem he’s working off of is so keen on blonde hair, why have only half of our victims been blondes?” Spencer says, reading through a print-out of the original poem.

“Maybe the women with brown hair were just more available?” You say, not sure if you believe it.

Spencer takes a sip of his coffee. “No, a man like this would want blondes. He’s working of the exact motive of the poem.”

“And he must have a lot of time with his victims to be able to strangle them with their hair.”

You and Spencer spend hours reading over the poem and investigating that photos. Hotch comes back to the station to bring photos from yet another crime scene. Another blonde. If anything, that takes you further from figuring him out, messing up the blonde-brown-blonde-brown victim order.

“There’s no way he’s picking these victims at random. He’d have to spend far too long watching them to know their work schedule to be able to get into their apartments.” Hotch says. “I need you guys to further analyze the poem. It could have the key and hopefully we can find him before he strikes again.”

You and Spencer spend a further hour and a half looking over and annotating the poem. You’re both about to give up on the poem when you notice something: the rhyme scheme.

“A-B-A-B-B,” you think outloud.

“What?” Spencer is confused.

“The rhyme scheme, Spencer. It’s A-B-A-B-B. Auburn-Blonde-Auburn-Blonde-Blonde. That has to be it!”

“So he’ll go back to the beginning. He’s looking for his next victim with auburn hair, just like Julia Dempsey and Katie Flanagan. Nice catch, y/n. We’ve gotta call Hotch.”

He pulls out his phone and dials the eight digits quickly. He fills in Hotch on the info you find as you email over to Garcia. It’s only a matter of time before Morgan and Hotch move in on the man, Garcia finding him from a simple categorical search of dating profile preferences.

_____

You’re sat on the jet next to Spencer on your way home. You’re going on about old literature and artifacts pertaining to them. No one else understands a word either of you are saying, but they’re rather in awe of how the two of you are able to bounce off each other and carry on about, what to them, is utter nonsense.

It’s late. Early. Well, both. 2:47 AM. You’re leaned with your elbow on the table and your head in your hand looking and Spencer as he recites an old poem from memory. His voice is calm and warm. JJ and Emily are asleep in the booths next to you, Hotch minding his own in the back, and Rossi and Morgan make small talk a little closer to the front.

“y/n?” You hear your name being whispered.

You hum in response, opening your eyes to see a wide-eyed Spencer looking at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He says.

“It’s okay. I’m kinda glad you did, my neck would be sore when we land.”

“We’re still three hours from Virginia. Think you can make it that long?”

“Hell no, I’m exhausted.” You try cross your arms on the table, laying your head in them as you try to get comfortable.

“That position may feel better on your neck, but it’ll do a number on your back in record time.”

“Well, Spencer, there’s only so much room to work with on this jet.”

“I can move so you can lay in the seat if you’d like. But that could also hurt your neck considering you’ll be lying flat and have no incline.”

“Well then why don’t you tell me the most comfortable position and let me sleep in peace.”

“Studies show the best position for sleeping without a pillow is leaning against a wall or something of an upright nature. But there are no walls to lean up against, so you’re pretty much out of luck there y/n.”

He shifts in his seat, reaching for the blanket behind him. He tosses it at you and settles back down. He sips from his coffee. No wonder he’s not going to sleep, he drinks coffee 15 out of the 24 hours in a day.

You scoot a bit closer to him, wrapping the blanket around yourself. You tip your head forward, groaning. Tiredness overcomes you more than it already has, making it near impossible to even keep your eyes open.

“Hey, Spence…” You look up at him. His head tilts down to meet your gaze, flattening his lips in form of response. “Can I…” You let your sentence fade out, pushing yourself closer to him.

He softens his voice. “Hmm?”

Before he can even finish his hum your head has slumped on his shoulder and you’re already falling unconscious on him. You feel him reach his arm around you- pulling the blanket up- you assume. He does that, but his arm never leaves. His head flops gently on top of yours, his one unruly waft of hair falling over his face. You could stay like this forever.

“It’s about time those two realize how similar they are.” You hear Rossi’s gravely voice say.

And just like that, you’re asleep, in what is probably the most comfortable you’ve ever been in your life.

_____

next chapter: b is for Boy Genius

_____

a/n: hiii! i really hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Chapter 2 will be released tomorrow! Sorry if this one was a little boring, I promise the next chapter is more interesting. Im just trying to set up the story a little before we get into it!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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woewriting · 26 days

Text

𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗀!𝗉 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn.

tags. mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick (no pronouns used). friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. | word count. 3726

author's note. will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once.

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device.

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location.

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car.

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home.

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.”

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date.

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar.

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?”

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?”

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand.

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t.

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip.

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.”

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?”

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace.

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard.

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you.

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly.

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release.

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly.

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?”

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling.

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move.

“This feels so fucking good.”

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist.

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie.

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile.

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?”

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm.

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?”

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

941 notes · View notes

multifandomlover01 · 10 days

Text

Not Technically Mine…But Still Unequivocally Mine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (not AFAB specific)

WC: ~2.9k

Warnings: reader is undercover bait, very scummy suspect, very uncomfy situation and dialogue, touching, Spencer is concerned for her safety, biological male reaction mention, strangulation mention but not depicted, the b word is used to describe the reader, he spits on her too

Summary: (based off a post by @hereforhalstead and fic semi-requested by @ribbongrll) Reader has to go undercover as bait to lure in a suspect, and Spencer is not happy about it. He’s very protective and almost caused the mission to not be completed

Note: I envisioned post prison Spencer for this so it’s like S13-15 (JJ and Luke are in here), also third person and idk what’s happening with the tenses. Also a bit repetitive? Bit annoying?

Spencer absolutely fucking hated it whenever he had to be in a club or a bar for a case. It didn’t matter how much time he had to spend in the building. He got anxious and overstimulated very quickly. The only thing that made it worse was when some guy flirted with his equally as anxious female coworker (who was also his best friend who he was also in love with). Every time a guy would flirt with her while she just stood there, uncomfortable and silent, his heart broke. He’d glare at the guy and if he still didn’t take that hint, say something. Luckily, this usually took care of any further interaction.

Apparently the only thing worse than some guy flirting with his best friend/crush was her being bait for a suspect. She was his exact type, physically speaking and personality wise. Spencer almost immediately objected when he saw the form fitting and revealing dress that JJ had helped her pick out. But he doubted he’d be able to convince Prentiss and Rossi to ditch the plan. It was the best one they had. At least Spencer got to go undercover with her as her date…although he didn’t know if this actually would make the situation better or worse.

He didn’t even notice that his hand was brushing against hers the whole ride. He also didn’t notice that he was sweating a little bit.

“You’d better not do that in the club…you’ll give us away.” She teases and he doesn’t know what she’s talking about until he is suddenly physically aware of the perspiration.

He chuckles. “I won’t. Don’t worry.” He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabs his face and neck.

They arrive at the club. He gets out of the vehicle and helps her out. He suppressed a groan when she tugs on her dress to futilely get it to cover more of her thighs. He gingerly grasps her hand and leads her inside.

“Remember…be your shy sweet self but not too reserved and reluctant because we need-”

“The suspect outside, yes, I know, Spence. We’ll be ok.” She chuckles as she looks at him.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He frowns.

“You think I want to get hurt.” She furrows her eyebrows.

“Of course not.” He shakes his head, smiling some. “But it’s my job to protect you and…I don’t wanna fail.”

“I have to let him get me outside, isolated and alone so that JJ and Luke can apprehend him. You can’t protect me once I’m on my own with him.” She states what he was trying not to think about. She was right, though, of course.

“Just…be careful, ok?” He squeezed her hand.

“I will, don’t worry.” She squeezed his back. “Hey, I’ve done better for longer on my field training that you have, remember?”

“I remember when you had to help me pass my test to still be qualified to carry a gun and be in the field.”

“And now you don’t even need my help. You’ve gotten better and I’m proud of you. There’s always room for improvement…even for me. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Spencer still wasn’t sure about this whole situation as they took a seat at the bar at the club. There was only one seat available. Spencer thought about letting her take it as the lady while he stood but then an idea he liked struck him. He sat down on the bar stool, took a hold of her waist and hoisted her up into his lap. He held her tightly to him as he had his arms wrapped around her waist.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, slightly confused by his behavior.

“I’m your date. I’m being…friendly.”

“That’s not why.” She huffs slightly.

“Alright…I’m protecting you, then.” His breath tickles her ear.

“Do I have to be in your lap?”

“I would say that…yes, you do.” He said rather definitively.

They ordered drinks (he made sure to order her a virgin cocktail so she had no actual alcohol in her system, not only was this regulation for an undercover agent, but he knew the last thing he wanted was for her cognition to not be at 100%). They sipped their drinks as she remained in his lap.

Spencer remained vigilant to his surroundings when she had to be more subtle about it to maintain her “oblivious” undercover role. He was grateful that it made sense for a girl’s date to want to ward off any potential girl stealers. He was not so grateful that the suspect did not care about that (even if the whole point of being bait and undercover as a couple was to lure him in to apprehend him).

It didn’t escape her notice that he’d tighten his grip around her whenever any guy got particularly physically close to her for whatever reason (even if it was as innocuous as standing beside her at the bar to order drinks) even if they didn’t even glance at her, let alone talk to her.

“You can relax some, you know. The suspect is going to be much bolder. You don’t have to spike your poor heart rate over every little thing.”

“I care about you. I won’t have you getting hurt.”

“We went over this. I’m perfectly capable of-”

“I know, I know you are, ok? It’s not…it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s-”

“Excuse me…” An overly charming and soft voice says, cutting Spencer off.

Their eyes immediately flit over to the man that had suddenly appeared. Spencer’s blood runs cold when he realizes that this is the man that matches the descriptions that the bartenders and patrons had given.

Spencer tenses, gripping her hips tightly as he holds her to him.

“I was just at that table over there and couldn’t help notice this…vision of loveliness right here.” He smiles as his hand rests on her knee. She cringes. Spencer’s blood boils.

“Don’t touch her.” He says in a dangerously low tone.

“Oh come on…I’m not gonna hurt the little lady. I’m merely…admiring her.” He steps ever so closer.

“Back off.” Spencer says, or rather…he grits it out. His grip on her hips tightens and she’s starting to wonder if they’ll bruise if he grips any tighter or if he does so for long.

“Oh come on…don’t be such a hard ass. What do you say, darling? How’s about…you and I…ditch this guy and I’ll show you a real good time.” Spencer wishes he could punch that stupid smirk off his face and break his hand as it slides further up her thigh. She’s squirming in his lap, pressing back into him (which doesn’t help another situation).

“You won’t. She’s clearly uncomfortable. You should take a hint and piss off.”

While she is in actuality very uncomfortable around this man, she knows she needs to get him outside.

“Well I…” She forces herself to scoot a bit off of Spencer’s lap and closer to the man. Spencer doesn’t loosen the grip on her hips and pulls her back against him.

“See? The lady here does seem interested.” His smirk hasn’t disappeared as his fingers are now at the hem of her dress.

Spencer has to fight between his instinct to get her as far away from this man as possible and his recognition of the mission. He just glares at the man. Reluctantly, he keeps his mouth shut.

“That’s it…listen to your girl here. Come on, honey. He seems like a real fun guy but…I promise to show you a night you’ll never forget. You’ll feel things you’ve never felt before.”

She scoots off Spencer’s lap a bit and he reluctantly loosens his grip. The man wastes no time sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. She lets him lead her away. Spencer’s knuckles turn white against the bar counter as he sees the bastard caress her and then sees his hand move lower and squeeze her ass.

He just prays that she can keep herself safe with her training. She couldn’t wear a wire or anything. But he had one to inform JJ and Luke that they were on their way out to them. All he had to do was wait. He heard the confirmation that they’d made it outside and had been spotted by the agents placed there in the alley.

“Guys…tell me what’s going on.” Spencer murmurs into the mic.

“She’s fine. Just sit tight, Spence.” JJ tries to calm him down. It doesn’t work.

“Don’t tell me to just sit tight, JJ. I…I can’t just sit tight knowing she’s out there with that monster. You’ve got eyes on her. Please tell me she’s ok.” Spencer says pleadingly.

“She’s handling herself, man, ok? She’s capable.” Luke now tries to assuage Spencer’s fears. This also is not successful.

“That’s also not what I asked, Luke.”

Spencer hears Luke sigh. “He’s got her up against the alley wall, ok?”

“Well what’s he doing to her?”

“Spence-”

“What’s he doing?” Spencer insisted.

“Well he’s…fondling her…kissing her neck.”

“Jesus Christ…when are you guys gonna apprehend him? What if he hurts her?” Spencer is starting to get very concerned.

“We have to wait.”

“For what?! For him to strangle her?!”

“We need to wait until there is probable cause for an arrest. She’ll fend him off and he’ll push too far.”

“But how far? Does her dress have to be ripped? Does she have to be humiliated coming back in here?” Spencer was getting angry at his friends. They knew how much he cared about her. He didn’t often get like this.

“Just another minute or so, then we’ll go, ok?” Luke says, hoping again that this’ll calm him.

“Ok…only that…no longer. You can’t leave her with him for longer than that. Please…please protect her.” Spencer says softly.

“We will, Spence. We promise.”

“Thank you.” He sighs in relief.

It is indeed only another minute or two before go time, with JJ and Luke revealing themselves to the suspect. He is startled when two FBI agents with guns come out of the shadows. But before he can get angry and lash out at them, he turns that anger towards his potential victim.

“You…bitch!” He seethes, spitting in her face, causing her to gasp. This causes Luke to push him against the wall as he handcuffs him.

“Alright. That’s enough, buddy. We’re taking you in now.”

“You set me up? This was a set up?! I didn’t do anything! You pigs set me up!” He yells as Luke wrestled him over and into a squad car down at the end of the alley.

JJ comforts her briefly as she stands shaking slightly against the wall.

“Go back inside. Spence is quite anxious to see you.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

She wanders back inside the club, tugging her dress to get it back in place, wiping her smudged lipstick off, wiping the spit off as well.

Spencer is out of his seat like a rocket and bounding towards her the second he sees her enter the door she’d exited out of. He doesn’t say anything as he engulfs her in a tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” He whispered softly in her ear.

“I’m always ok.”

“You don’t have to be. It’s ok to not be ok.” He caressed her back.

“I know. But I’m ok.”

“What if…what if I’m not?” He holds her tightly to him. He buried his face in her neck.

“Why would you…not be ok? I’m…I’m fine.”

“You don’t understand, hon. This whole thing…has been near torturous for me. Watching that man…talk to you…flirt with you…touch you and knowing he was…” He’s shaking now and he doesn’t even realize it.

She caresses his back. “Hey…hey…it’s ok. I’m ok. It’s all over now.” She whispered softly.

“I just didn’t want you to get hurt. If that monster had hurt you…”

“Why don’t we get out of here, huh? I think we should go.”

“Fucking finally.” He groans as he wraps an arm around her waist and swiftly makes his way with her to the front exit of the club. He takes a nice deep breath once he’s exposed to the cool night air. He didn’t even realize how suffocating that environment was to him.

He helps her back into the vehicle as it’s brought around and still keeps her close to him as they head to the hotel to decompress for the night.

Once in the calm peaceful safety of the hotel room, he grabs his sleepwear from his bag and then gets hers for her as well. She had retreated to the bathroom to remove her makeup and take the dress off. Spencer enters the bathroom without knocking. He gets an eyeful of his best friend in her underwear and his face turns red.

“Oh um…I’ll just…leave these here. Sorry.” He puts her sleep wear on the counter and turns quickly to leave, shutting the door behind him.

He changes outside the bathroom in the room, still very embarrassed about his faux pas. He should’ve knocked. He just had so much on his mind at that moment that he’d completely forgotten to do it.

He occupied himself with a book as he sat up on the bed. His head lifts when he hears the bathroom door open. As beautiful as she’d looked in that dress and makeup, she looked infinitely more comfortable in her sleep wear and with no makeup. And because she seemed so comfortable and relaxed now, she somehow seemed even more radiant to him.

“Hey.” He says softly as he smiles at her. “Feeling better?”

“Much better. Thank you.” She smiles back at him as she sits on her own bed.

He looks over at her as she gets her own book out to relax. She goes to put her earbuds in her ear and he stops her. He knows she’s going to listen to music.

“You don’t have to put those in. You can just…play it from the phone.”

She looks over at him. “Really? You’re sure? I dunno how you’re gonna feel about some of the music.”

“It’s fine. I’ll listen to whatever you wanna listen to.” He shrugged. He very much wanted to relax and listen to music together with her instead of it seeming like they were doing it separately.

“Ok. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.” She chuckles as she puts her earbuds away and turns the volume up on her phone to prepare to play her music.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You say that now.” She smirks as she presses play.

Classical music starts to play.

“What do you mean you warned me? That’s just Mozart!” He exclaimed.

“For now.”

“Oh for now.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “What’s next…Wagner? Don’t get crazy now.”

“Oh you just wait, Reid…just you wait.”

“Don’t tell me you have Hans Zimmer on there. That’d be really crazy.” He joked.

“Something wrong with movie and tv soundtracks?”

“No, not at all! I love them too. I’m merely amused at what you consider crazy.”

His smile falls when metal music starts playing. She laughs at his confused expression.

“I told you I warned you!”

“Now I’m concerned about what you consider relaxing.” He raises his eyebrows.

“I can always put my earbuds in.” She offers, pointing to them.

“No…no. It’s fine. Then I’d just be concerned for your hearing.” He shakes his head.

“You’re awfully concerned about me a lot of the time.” She notes, pausing the music.

“Of course I am. You’re my best friend. I care about you.”

“Well yeah but…how much?” She queried.

“What do you mean?” He cocks his head.

She scoffs. “You know what I mean, genius. Now answer the question.”

“Well…um…I suppose that…the answer is…a lot.” His gaze is averted from her.

“Spencer…look at me please.” She requests softly.

He obeys and his gaze lifts to meet here. “Yes?” He asks softly.

“Enough to almost blow our chance of catching that scum?”

He chuckled sheepishly, remembering what he’d done. “Yeah…that much.”

She puts her book down and stands up, going over to his bed. He looks up at her as she stands in front of him. She smiles down at him as she reaches up to cup his face. He smiles back up at her, letting her touch him. He wasn’t bothered by her touch.

“You were really scared, weren’t you?” She asks softly.

“I was terrified.”

“Even though I can handle myself?”

“I know you can. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was…” he trails off and his gaze averts briefly.

“Yes?”

“I couldn’t rationalize it in my mind. I knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t seem to matter. I was still scared. I couldn’t calm down. All of my nerves were on edge.”

“But why? If you knew I’d be fine…why worry?”

“Because…I care about you…because…because I think I love you. No…that’s not…I-I know that I love you.”

“You love me? Really?” She smiles.

“Oh absolutely.” He smiled back. “I think I have for quite a while now, I just…I just didn’t know how to express that to you. I could never…find the right words.”

“You couldn’t find the right words?” She chuckles lightly.

“Believe it or not, no. But I’ve…I’ve never been very good at expressing my feelings.”

“Well…the great thing about feelings is…you don’t necessarily need words to express them.”

“You don’t?” He looked at her quizzically.

She shakes her head. “No. You don’t. Actions work just as well.”

“Act-”

She cuts him off for the first time ever by leaning down to kiss him softly. He smiles softly and presses into the kiss. He’s waited so long to feel her lips against his. And it’s just as wonderful as he imagined it would be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

491 notes · View notes

reallykaz · 1 month

Text

— .best date ever! // matt sturniolo

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

plot summary : when the cute guy in your class asks you out on a date, you’re more than happy to go. but you didn’t expect a fun time at the amusement park would end in the back seat of his car with your clothes off and his lips on yours.

content warnings : very mature themes (18+ MINORS DNI) strong language, small mention of anxiety. fluffy plot with porn at the end! first date things and matt being down bad for reader. tension in a photobooth ;) smutty car sex, oral sex and unprotected p in v (pls don’t do this!be safe!)

a/n : i’m a slut for a man who can drive. that’s it. also this is my first time writing smut so i hope it's up to standards lmaooo i really dk how i feel about this either… like always all likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <333

wc : 5.5k

"Fuck! I have nothing to wear!"

Saturday night and you were stressing, half of your closet was scattered around your bedroom floor and your desk was a mess with makeup and hair products. The whole room smelt like perfume, vanilla lotion and nail polish from the last two hours you’ve been getting ready.

It was finally the night of your date with Matt and you were beyond nervous. You’ve known each other since middle school but you mostly talked in English class for the past four years - just simple ‘hi’s’ and exchanged smiles.

It took you by surprise when Matt asked you out on Wednesday because you had no idea that he had any type of attraction for you. In school he was quiet, played a few sports and only hung out with his brothers and best friends. You didn’t know much other than that.

Stalking his instagram didn’t offer much

But you were glad he was taking you out. It was the first time a guy has actually wanted to go on a date with you and Matt seemed really genuine. You were excited for once because usually being with guys has always left you feeling used, empty and no good. But this was different.

Matt had asked you for your number too when he asked you out and obviously you couldn’t say no when he looked down at you like you hung the moon so you had been texting each other a couple times for the past three days.

It was only very casual but instead of asking for pictures of your tits, he’d actually ask about your day and would make you laugh with unfunny jokes. So yeah, it was definitely different.

After twenty hectic minutes later and your mom bombarding your personal space to ask about the date, you had finally picked out an outfit - cute and simple with a hint of sexy and hot. It was good and you looked good in it.

When your phone vibrated from a message notification, you knew it was Matt and your gut swirled with butterflies. After dousing yourself in some more perfume, topped up your lipgloss and fixed up your hair, you check your phone.

from matt🤍 i’m outside :)

You immediately go into panic mode when you hear the doorbell ring and you couldn’t have ran downstairs any faster than right now. "Honey? Is that your date? I wanna meet –

"Bye mom! Be back by midnight! Love you!" Matt drops the kind smile and rehearsed lines in his head when you’re slamming your front door and dragging him back to the car by his hand as he looks back in case your parents walked out, "Was I not supposed to knock? I didn’t know."

You glance at your door when you turn to him, looking up with a smile. "It’s okay, I just didn’t want my mom to start yapping on if she saw you, we’d both we there for hours." Matt nods at your explanation, forgetting about the flowers in his hand when he actually looks at you.

His eyes trail up and down to check you out, the way your skirt clung to your hips was enough to make his head spin and cock twitch. Matt couldn’t believe that tonight he was the one you were all dressed up pretty for and the thought made his tummy swirl. He felt more nervous after realising he was staring.

Luckily you didn’t even notice because you were doing the exact same thing. Your eyes trained on the chain around his neck before they glance all the way down to the rings on his hands and that’s when you see the sweet smelling flowers. You try to ignore the veins popping out from how tight he was holding them. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck

"These are for you,"

Matt holds out the flowers and you grab them off of him, fingers brushing against his as you beam. "This is really sweet, Matt. You didn’t have to do all of this," you couldn’t believe you were already blushing over some flowers and Matt just shakes his head with a smile, "I wanted to, don’t worry."

There’s a pause when Matt just looks down at you, bashful smiles on both of your faces and he liked the way your eyes looked more light with the sunset in your face. Now, there was tension in the air surrounding the two of you.

"Well thank you, really." Your voice was genuine but small, turning shy under Matt’s gaze as you avoid his eyes by looking at the flowers in awe.

"C’mon, let’s go." You look up and see Matt holding the passenger door open, "get in." He nods his head and you comply, leaning down to get in the car and immediately smelling his natural scent. It was nice, sort of safe.

"Where are we even going anyways?"

—

"Oh my god! You’re such a cheat!"

A loud set of giggles escape your mouth when you see Matt get more and more aggravated from the game of mini golf. He hides his own smile whilst shaking his head, focusing on getting his blue ball into the hole where your red one was already in, sitting nicely. "I am not!"

The fluorescent lights from the Ferris wheel was reflecting down on both of your faces, brightening the whole mini golf course in multicolours and it made the whole experience better. The amusement park was really busy for a Saturday night so when you both arrived, Matt used the excuse of 'not wanting to lose you' to hold your hand. It was silly but it made you smile anyways.

You then spent the next two hours holding his hand, laughing and competing against each other in those little mini game stalls that gave you a teddy as a prize. But Matt had won you a little heart keychain that already held so much significance to you already, you knew you'd keep it forever. He then dragged you on a couple of rollercoaster rides with the promise that you could drag him into mini golf afterwards.

Matt didn't realise that you were actually really good at it.

"I'm gonna get this next one, just watch." After throwing you a promising look, Matt focuses on the ball and you grin at the way his tongue poked out in concentration before he hits it with his little matching blue club and it finally goes into the hole. "See? Told you," his eyes light up when he looks back up at you with a smug smile on his face and you match his excitement, naturally wrapping your arms around his shoulders for a hug. "I knew you could!"

Matt's heart flutters for the 100th time tonight and he completely melts into your touch, wrapping his hands around your waist tightly. Your bodies swayed together in a moment of celebration and Matt could feel how warm you were against him.

"But guess what?" You both pulled away but you still kept yourself close when you look up at Matt with a playful smile and twinkling eyes that made him adore you, "what?" He knew full well what but seemed to find himself enjoying entertaining your banter in the last few hours.

"I still win," you let out a soft chuckle at his teasing glare, positively ignoring the way his simple touch made you feel so alive when you hugged. "Do you?" Matt questions quietly, tilting his head to the side that made you mirror his expression. Before you could answer, his hands were wrapped back around your waist and tickling your sides.

To an outsiders perspective, you and Matt looked like a young and happy couple that were very much in love with one another. The way your bodies just naturally gravitated towards each other so easily with either a simple touch or a quick glance seemed normal.

Matt was comforting. And he made you feel safe in every sense of the meaning. It was difficult to describe how you felt right now because you didn't understand it whatsoever but you knew you could be your genuine self and that's what mattered the most. You just had no idea how to tell him or if you should say anything at all.

"Ah! Stop! I can't breathe!"

Matt lets out a loud laugh, letting go of your body to almost keel over in laughter at the snort that just appeared in the middle of giggles. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, eyes wide as you hold your cheeks in complete disbelief that Matt just heard your ugly laugh on the first date. "Oh my god! Pretend you didn't hear that."

"No way that just happened," Matt calms his laughter, looking at the way your cheeks burned red and smiling. He knew you were embarrassed but he didn’t want you to be, it was cute.

But in hopes to make you feel better, he quickly changed the subject.

Turning to grab the golf balls, he walks over to throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close. "C’mon, let’s go winner." You jokingly poke his side that makes him flinch and it makes you both laugh, "you’re such an idiot."

—

It had maybe been a half hour later and more smiles and small touches had been shared over some cinnamon churros. The sky was pitch black now and the air was colder. The amusement park was becoming more packed with teenagers and college kids instead of the typical families with their small children.

You could tell that Matt was more comfortable around you now in comparison to when he first picked you up. Conversation was easy with him, talking about anything or anyone and still finding it interesting. You learned more about the sports he played and his family and friends.

The conversations never expanded any deeper than casual and it was actually a relief. For some reason you wanted to find things about Matt through time and peeling back layers the more you got to know each other. You liked it better that way because it was real to you.

"Oh look! There’s a photobooth,"

Matt’s eyes looked away from you to glance at whatever you were pointing at in hopes you didn’t catch him staring and was thankful for the colourful string lights scattered above you that cleverly hid his blush. His fingers brushed softly against yours when you walked side by side, itching to touch you.

He had been stealing shy glances at you all night and kept thinking about how he could ask you out again after the night was over. But all night his anxious mind had tried to betray him and things like holding your hand needed a lot of courage to do despite the relieved feeling afterwards.

"You wanna go?" His hands twitched at his sides and when you look back at Matt with a smile, his mind went blank when you grabbed his hand this time with such ease. "C’mon," you dragged him towards the empty photobooth, quickly dodging the crowds of people in your way in hopes it’ll stay empty. "Excuse me! Thank you!"

Your hand was still holding his when you looked past the beige curtain and down at the tiny seat that was supposed to fit the both of you. "Oh."

Matt entwined his hand away from yours to slip past you and sit on the seat, manspreading and tapping his lap. "Come here," you watch in awe and the low tone of his voice gives you no choice but to lower yourself down on his thigh, fiddling with the ends of your skirt shyly. "Is this okay?"

Matt didn’t answer and just pulled the curtain shut and leaving you both under shitty, dim lights and away from everyone’s eyes.

"Are you okay?" His voice soft when he looks back at you, glancing at your lips and back to your eyes. Your heart races from the closeness and you just let out a strangled hum, "mhm." You nod.

Matt just gives you a cocky grin, "good." The heat between your legs throbs when his arm wraps around your waist and rests on your bare thigh to toy with the bottom of your skirt. He leans over to touch the screen, tightening his grip on your body and you could barely focus.

You were convinced he knew what he was doing and the worst thing about it was that it felt right. You didn’t want anything like this to happen tonight, if anything, nothing sexual at all with Matt because you were scared of losing something you never had.

But whatever this was felt different.

"You ready?" You blinked at him, an arm wrapped around his neck when he just looks at you. A look so simple that made you feel so much. "Yeah," you try to disregard your thoughts for the next five minutes of happiness.

Matt caught you by surprise when he squished your face for the first photo and just before the light flashed, you squished his face too. The two of you trying to smile at the camera with your hands wrapped around each other’s faces.

"Funny faces?" You suggested for the next photo, blissfully unaware of Matt’s hand coming over your head when he nods in agreement. The second shot is with Matt sticking his tongue out and looking at your cross eyes and your pout, trying not to laugh at the bunny ears.

Afterwards, you both just laughed together.

"Hey, look at me," Matt whispers and gently grabs your jaw to pull your face towards his, the small smile on your face disappearing when your eyes meet. Your skin turned hot when his fingers began stroking up and down your thigh lightly, making your skirt shift further up your hips. "Yeah?" You felt breathless.

Neither of you realise the camera just took another shot because all Matt could focus on was the need to kiss you. He was already half hard in his jeans just from you sitting on his lap and he could feel the cotton of your panties rub against his thigh. You were driving him crazy.

Matt really did want to kiss you more than anything and he knew you did too with the way you leaned closer and fluttered your eyes but he just couldn't. He had no idea why and it was frustrating, he felt like a complete coward. Why can't he just kiss you?

Your face drops when Matt lets out a frustrated sigh, dropping his hand and leaning his head into your neck to close his eyes. "You're so beautiful," he whines softly and you can feel him leave a quick peck to your skin which makes you feel weak so you look down at him in confusion. "Is something wrong?" You ask lowly.

When Matt looks into your eyes, you could see how his pupils were blown out and it was captivating. For a moment you're convinced he's either going to tell you what's up or kiss you when his lips part but nothing happens and you feel confused. "Matt?"

The loud speaker of an AI voice cuts you both off to let you know that your photos have been printed and to leave the booth. You let out a sigh when Matt immediately stands up, gently pushing you off his lap and pulling the curtain back open. You couldn't even focus on anything else when you follow after Matt like a puppy.

"Matt?" You call after him when you see that he was walking away, "Where are you going?" Pulling back his tattooed arm to make him look at your frown and you notice the strip of photos of you both in his hand. You couldn't figure out what he was thinking with the way he was looking down at you. "I thought we were having a good night."

In reality, Matt felt embarrassed. His mind was working in overdrive and wouldn't blame you if you thought he was an asshole. He was angry at himself for leading you on like that because that was never his intention. He really did want to kiss you and touch you without worrying constantly about little things.

"Let me take you home, yeah?"

Matt spoke softly but didn't wait for an answer from you before walking through the carpark and you once again had no other choice but to follow after him. You didn't want to end the night like this. You refused to.

"I don't want to go home yet," Matt hears you whisper and feels your hand pulling on his arm again so he turns back around to glance down at you. He sighs when he sees the dejected look in your eyes but the touch of your fingers trailing his tattoos makes his head spin and now he could only think about one thing.

"Get in the car."

The low hum of Matt's playlist was playing quietly when he drives into an empty carpark, surrounded by nothing but trees. Since the Photobooth incident, neither of you have talked and you're pretty sure Matt hasn't even looked your way. "Where are we?"

There’s a pause that makes you look at Matt properly. You knew he wanted to say something with the look on his face and you felt bad. It was like one moment the two of you were having the best night ever to being in awkward silence.

"I’m sorry."

You didn’t know why Matt was apologising to you because there was nothing to apologise for, not really anyways. You weren’t that much of a bitch to get angry at him for what happened earlier because it was clear there was more to it.

"You don’t have to say -

"I like you, okay?" This catches you off guard - even after all of the hand holding and longing glances tonight - it doesn't stop the fluttery feeling in your gut from hearing it out loud.

"I really really like you." Matt's voice breaks in desperation and you look at him staring at his front wheel like it's the most interesting thing ever. The light in the car was dimly lit so it was hard to read Matt's expression from the angle you're sitting at.

Matt doesn’t give you a second to reply, "and every second of this night has been like heaven and now i feel like such an asshole for leading you on like that because that was never my intention. I would never do that to you."

Finally, your eyes meet.

"I really did want to kiss you." The needy tone in his voice was driving you crazy and your body slowly gravitated towards his over the console. Matt never took his eyes off of you, eyes glancing at your lips when you speak. "It’s okay."

The way you’re looking at him now was enough for Matt to grab your face and bring your lips to his. You can feel the coldness of his rings on your skin when his tongue slips into your mouth and it makes you whimper, clenching your thighs together and reaching for Matt.

A strangled groan escapes his throat when he feels your hand pulling on his hair and he has to stop himself from dragging you on his lap. The low music playing in the background is drowned out by your lips smacking together and all of the pent up feelings Matt's had all night has just rushed straight to his dick. He had to pull away.

"Fuck." Matt mumbles and you watch him try to adjust his jeans, lifting his hips and pulling on the waistband. Your lips are plumper than usual and you slowly wipe them with a small smile when Matt looks over at you, "You're driving me crazy."

You know Matt's hard when you glance back down but you're taken by surprise when you really see how big he is. His rushed attempt of tucking it into his waistband was a failure. Matt knows you've seen how hard he was and it makes him blush. When he feels your hand trailing up and down his arm, it makes his breath hitch and that makes you smirk, "You're so cute."

"Shut up." He's smiling when he kisses you again and it does in fact shut you up. The kiss turns from sweet and tender to rough and needy in a second. Once you feel Matt's hands trail from your face and down your body, you're the first one to initiate more when you grab his hand and guide it between your thighs.

Matt pulls away and with half-lidded eyes, he looks down to see your legs spread and your flipped skirt covering his hand. "You're so wet," he chuckles softly when you moan, eyes rolling back when his fingers touch you through your panties. "This is what you do to me."

"Do you-" Matt stops mid sentence when you begin to kiss down his neck and pulls away to look at you properly, "Do you wanna go in the backseat?" You notice how blown out his pupils look and it makes his eyes darker in the dim light and you imagine looking at them every morning as you both lay together with the warm light reflecting through the windows.

Matt gets nervous at your silence.

"We don't have to, I don't expect anything from you if that's what you're wondering." He reassures, not wanting to say the wrong thing and scare you off. In all honesty, Matt didn't expect anything like this to happen when he kissed you but this was in the moment and for some reason it felt right. But he'd never make you do anything you weren't comfortable with. "I can just take you home if that's -

"I want to." You cut him off.

"Yeah?" Matt sighs with relief and he smiles when you nod. "Yeah." You mirror his smile and with a quick kiss to your lips, you watch him unbuckle his seatbelt and climb into the backseat with such ease that makes you wonder if he's done this before.

"C'mere." Matt taps his lap and you glance down at his dick once more before climbing over the seats to go to him. In your perfectly awkward fashion, you end up practically tripping into Matt's lap and he quickly grabs the back of your thighs to steady you as you both giggle quietly together. "Sorry." You whisper.

"You really are beautiful," The way he looks up at you feels so intimate and sincere that it makes you think that nobody has ever looked at you like Matt does and that realisation was scary yet so endearing. "I bet you say that to all of the girls you seduce into the backseat of your car," You joke with a playful eye roll and it makes him laugh.

"I really like you."

"I really like you too."

You can't wipe the grin on your face when Matt leans up to kiss you, his hands trailing around your body. "And you're the only girl I've ever seduced into the backseat of my car," he whispers against your lips before kissing you softly, the both of your eyes fluttering closed.

Your hands wander down his chest to the bottom of his shirt when your tongues swirl together and you can still taste the sweet cinnamon on his tongue from earlier. When you feel Matt's hands moving up your thighs slowly, you begin to tug off his shirt and he pulls away from the kiss to take it off and throw it on the floor.

"You too." Matt whispers and his hands are playing with the hem of your dress, looking up at you to make sure if that's what you want. Your heart is pounding when you lift yourself up off Matt's lap to take off your dress that leaves you in your matching lace set and when you see his eyes light up, it makes you feel better.

"Is this okay?"

"More than okay." Matt reassures softly and his touch feels ten times hotter now you're half naked that it makes you feel goosebumps. He leans up to kiss your chest and his hands find themselves back between your thighs and it all feels so overwhelming in the best way possible. "Can I touch you?" The way he asks makes you melt.

"Mhm, please." You beg with your head nodding and grinding your hips into his hand. "Please touch me, Matt." Your desperateness makes his cock twitch and he ignores it with a smirk, gently pulling your thong to the side and running a finger through your folds before finding your clit and that makes your thighs twitch when you drop your head on his shoulder with a whine, "Fuck."

"You’re so needy for me." He says so smugly, easily slipping two fingers in you and feeling how wet you are. You reply with moan, riding your hips when he curls it upwards and he can feel you squeeze around him and Matt can’t wait till you’re doing the same thing around his cock.

When Matt starts rubbing his thumb against your clit at the same time, you’re moving your hands down to his clothed crotch and feeling how hard he is. He groans lowly when your hand wraps around his print, "and I’m needy?"

"Don’t tease me." His fingers slip out of you to grip onto your thighs tightly and you begin to undo his belt and jeans. "Let me show you how much I like you, okay?" Matt lifts his hips up to pull down his pants when you drop to your knees, staring up at him through your lashes and playing with the waistband of his boxers. "Okay."

Matt lets out a moan of relief and throws his head back when you finally pull them down and take his dick in your mouth. He didn't think you could get any prettier but seeing you like this was heavenly – it was like all of his 14 year old fantasies coming true.

"Oh my god, sweetheart." You feel Matt's hands grabbing your hair and gently moving it out of your face so he could really look at you. You hum with his cock in your mouth and when he moans from the vibrations, you try to go deeper and you can feel his tip at the back of your throat and the salty taste of his pre-cum makes you choke. "Fuck. You don't have to do that."

"I wanted to." You smile sweetly and look up at Matt, watching the way he licks his lips when you rub your thumb against his swollen red tip and a strangled noise escapes his throat. Your knees are beginning to hurt but just before you could wrap your mouth around him again, Matt is holding your face and pulling you back up to his face.

"I really want to fuck you." Matt whispers lowly when he leans up to kiss your neck and just before you straddle him again, his hands are pulling your thong down your legs and toying with the lace on it. "Let me ride you." You whisper and Matt feels his heart race at the way you're looking at him as if he had no choice but to let you.

A small squeal leaves your throat when Matt pulls you on his lap abruptly and you both chuckle lowly before you're grabbing his face and kissing his lips as if your life depended on it.

His hands come up to undo your bra and when it comes off a few seconds later, you definitely know he's done this before. You grind your hips so you can feel his tip rub against your clit that feels so good that you pull away from the kiss to moan.

Matt's breathless when his hands grip your hips, helping you grind against him and feeling you get wetter by the second, "I don't have a condom." When he says this, you don't really think it through stupidly enough and just shake your head. "It's okay. I'm on the pill." This moment felt too nice to just stop and Matt just went along with it – obviously thinking with his dick.

When Matt finally thrusts up into you, the stretch stings and you've really underestimated how big he is because he already feels so deep. It was one thing having him in your mouth but when he's fucking up into you like this felt so much more intense and you couldn't tell if you were just really cock drunk or completely in love.

Probably both.

"Fuck, I swear this pussy was made for me."

Definitely both.

"It's yours." You moan when you ride your hips on his dick, pushing him down on the seat and Matt is in amazement when he looks up at you with flushed cheeks. His hands are trailing up and down your body, wanting to touch everywhere all at once when he leans up to try and kiss you. "All yours." You whisper and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is messy, hot and passionate all at once and when your movements gets faster, you're practically moaning into each other's mouths. The car slowly moves with rhythm and you subconsciously pray nobody can see from outside even if it's dark because it's really obvious with the steamed up windows around you both.

Matt notices the way your thighs begin to shake and the way your bouncing becomes quicker, "Are you gonna cum?"

You let out a mix between a hum and a moan, nodding your head when you feel your legs begin to burn. But just as you feel the familiar tightness in your tummy, Matt's holding your waist tightly and thrusting up so hard into you, it makes you cum instantly and you gush around him.

The music playing softly in the background is drowned out by your loud moans and Matt has a smug smirk on his face when your eyes roll back and your orgasm takes over until he feels his own. In all honestly, he was ready to bust the minute he was inside you but he had to make you cum first. It was a priority.

In your post orgasm haze, you don't even feel Matt lifting you off his dick until you see his cum spurting out onto his hand and tummy. "Mhm, fuck." Rolling his head back, Matt groans lowly and it makes your pussy flutter when you watch breathlessly.

The two of you are covered in a thin layer of sweat with flushed skin and neither of you care about the smell of sex surrounding you from being too high off of the pheromones. A part of you is shocked that you've just fucked someone on the first date but the other part is okay with it because it's Matt.

Matt. Matt. Matt.

"Did you really mean it?"

You blink to see Matt looking down at his hands on your body, tracing shapes on your hips gently. "Hm? What?" You swallow and he gulps, slowly looking up into your eyes, "Did you mean it? When you said you're all mine?" You can tell he's nervous when he asks this, almost afraid of your response, and your hands fall on top of his. "Yeah."

He hides his smile and you speak up again, "Did you want me to mean it?" Matt locks his fingers into yours when he nods, "Yeah."

You smile happily and lean in to kiss him softly, being careful of the mess between the two of you. It was a sweet kiss with a lot of feelings shown behind it, the type that makes you feel butterflies and never forget for a long time because it really meant something.

"'Good. Because I really want to do this again." Even after that kiss and the hottest sex you've ever had in your life, you're still nervous to bring up the idea of a second date but Matt's face just lights up. "Oh I'm definitely taking you out again. Don't worry about that."

He sounds cocky and it makes you laugh, running a hand through his messy hair and making it even messier. "I'm really looking forward to it." Matt pokes at your blushing cheeks with a small smile, appreciating the way you sound so sweet and genuine talking about seeing him again.

It felt hopeful.

There's so much Matt wants to say but now he knew there was more time. This definitely wasn't a one off thing and deep down he knew this wasn't just a crush either. He's not even sure if it ever was just a 'crush' because how could anyone just have a crush on you?

That was impossible.

"Does this mean you'll seduce me into the backseat of your car on the second date?" You joke playfully, holding back your laughter with a silly grin and when Matt laughs, so do you.

"You're an idiot." There’s a pause.

"But if you're lucky," He says lowly once you both stop laughing and you just tilt your head in response, "You'll end up in my bed."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yep."

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #–stargirl fics

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shuadotcom · 3 months

Text

143 Miles (M)

💞Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

💞Summary: You and your boyfriend decide to change up your Valentine’s Day plans this year, so you plan a two-week getaway - or a “love vacation” as Seungcheol calls it. With each destination, you fall more and more in love with each other and it may just be your best Valentine’s Day yet.

💞Genres & AUs: Fluff, smut, established relationship au, road trip au

💞Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

💞Warnings: Profanity, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart, baby girl), big dick!Cheol

💞Words: 5k

💞Note: Here’s my fic for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub! Happy Valentine’s Day to my lovely valentine @gyuwoncheol !! 💘 I hope you enjoy my beloved Paula!!!!! 😘 ❤️

Thank you to my girlies @horanghater and @onlymingyus - Bambi for always coming in clutch as my beta and Mars for the beautiful banner!! 💕

“Okay, on the count of three,” Seungcheol declares once you’re both back in the car. “One…two…three!”

You reach into the bag in your lap and dramatically present the trinket to your boyfriend. He bursts into a fit of laughter upon seeing the small smiling frog donned in a cowboy hat resting in the palm of your hand. You quickly notice that he’s holding the same figurine. You join in with him, the two of you cackling in the front seat of the car together. You’re sure anyone walking would think the two of you look deranged, but neither pays that any mind.

“Well, guess this means we’re tied this round,” you manage when you finally collect yourselves.

“Yeah, but I’m still winning,” Seungcheol boasts, taking the frog from you and putting both away in the backseat.

“By one point!”

“A win is a win,” your boyfriend shrugs, grinning widely at you. You concede and start the car, somehow forgetting how competitive your boyfriend can be, even over something as silly as a game of who can buy the other the most ridiculous gas station souvenir. You’re on day three of your cross-country road trip and Seungcheol’s souvenir picks have been just a little sillier than yours. He’s simply lucky is all.

It was his idea to do something different this Valentine’s Day. You and Seungcheol have been together for almost five years and every year in February you’ve done the same thing when it comes to Valentine’s Day. You usually go out on a date somewhere, always a fancy romantic lunch or dinner, and then an activity such as a movie or a trip to the amusement park. Neither of you are ungrateful about the time you spend together, of course. You love one another and anything you do will be enjoyable if you’re together. Your dates are always full of nothing but shared love and admiration for each other. You love Valentine’s Day and celebrate it by spreading more love than usual to your boyfriend and he loves doing the same, but you both wanted to change it up this year, so when Seungcheol brought up going on a road trip, you wasted no time in agreeing.

Initially, you thought about driving from Seoul down to Mokpo, but that is only a 4-hour drive at most and didn’t feel like enough of a trip. That’s why Seungcheol brought up something that was once on his bucket list: fly to the US and then drive to the other side of it and back. He mentioned that it was something he’d always seen in American teen movies growing up and he always thought it looked fun and like a way to get even closer to the people you care about. And since you’re the person he’s closest to and cares about the most, he wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you.

It didn’t take you much convincing either. You can never say no to a good road trip, so you both took time off work at the beginning of February, packed your suitcases, and booked a flight to New York. From there, you rented a car - a BMW to be exact, at your boyfriend’s insistence. (“It’s our love vacation! We have to drive in luxury!”) Then start your journey to Washington, planning to stop at as many states in between as you can.

You’ve finally made it into New Mexico with the end goal of getting to Las Vegas to stay for a night. Neither of you had many goals for where you would stay or what you’d do when you got to every state and are just winging it. It’s more fun that way.

Well, except when it comes to your souvenirs. You decide to stop at a gas station in each state for the wildest souvenir you can find after you unearth an Empire State Building-shaped mood ring right before you leave New York. It’s an extremely impractical shape and you demand that he put it on as soon as you leave.

Once you get back onto the highway Seungcheol fiddles with his phone, making sure his Bluetooth is connected.

The familiar first notes of “Sugar We’re Going Down” by Fall Out Boy start and your mouth quirks up into a smile. Every time it’s your turn to drive on the trip, Seungcheol insists on playing the playlist of your favorite songs that he made for you. The gesture still makes you feel warm at how thoughtful he always is, even when it comes to the little things.

Drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel, you relax in your seat. Seungcheol turns the volume up and rolls down his window just a bit. The February air is a little crisp, but not too cold. As soon as Patrick starts belting over the speakers, you join in, singing the song word-for-word as you go. Other than talking and playing silly road games, a favorite of both of yours has been using the car as your karaoke room.

Both of you have more than enough playlists to never run out of a soundtrack to your drive and you’re not shy about singing around one another. For the first few hours at the start of the drive, you had nearly gotten a sore throat from how serious you were at road trip karaoke. You were only missing a tambourine and the typical multi-colored karaoke laser lights.

The drive to Nevada will take nine hours, so you do half of that drive, and that whole time you and your boyfriend sing your hearts out on the way. Every once in a while, he reaches over to feed you a chocolate at your request for a snack. He makes sure that his finger grazes your lip or your teeth each time, chuckling when you nip at his digits or place tiny kisses on them. Little moments like this with Seungcheol make your heart even more full, which you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are - falling more and more in love with him each simple moment like this.

When Paramore comes on shuffle, Seungcheol goes all out during “Ain’t It Fun,” doing all of the ad-libs and being the guitar and the drums. At this point, you’ve made it more into town and hit a stoplight after passing nothing but dirt and rocks.

It gives you a chance to look at him, admiring the way his dark hair falls in his eyes - the eyes that turn into half moons when he smiles wide and laughs loudly. You can’t help but swoon over the giggle he lets out when he notices you watching him put on a solo concert, his dimple making its appearance and you want nothing more than to lean over and kiss it. And then kiss him on his lips that you know are so soft and warm and made perfectly to fit against yours like a puzzle piece.

So you do. You lean over the console quickly when he turns to you again and gives you a closed-mouth smile. Seungcheol lets out a noise of surprise, but gladly accepts the kiss, his hand reaching to cup your chin as your lips move slowly against his.

A honk from the car behind you makes you spring apart and then you remember where you are and see the green of the stoplight in front of you, indicating that you’ve got to focus on the road again. Seungcheol reaches over to take your hand as you start driving again, placing a kiss on the top of it, keeping it in his hold as you continue, both of you getting back to your playlist and the road ahead. You can’t help the way your heart swells and you almost don’t want this moment to end. You would travel around the world and back if it meant you could do it with Seungcheol.

When the sun sets on your journey, Seungcheol has always insisted that even if it’s not his turn, he’ll do the driving. He’s halfway through the state of Arizona when it gets darker and he’s behind the wheel. You didn’t stay in New Mexico long, only stopping to refuel and make sure to see what that gas station has to offer in the form of trinkets. Not much, as it turns out, but you manage to win this round of your game when you snag a keychain with an alien riding a donkey while all Seungcheol finds is a pen in the shape of a chili pepper with a mustache. He couldn’t not give you that point even if he tried to argue with you just a little about it.

Seungcheol hums along to his music, keeping it low enough not to disturb you while you try to sleep. He passes a mountain range, briefly admiring how the moonlight shines on the red rocks surrounding you. His attention quickly gets diverted to you when you turn in your seat to face him. You have the smallest pout on your lips and your eyebrows are scrunched up the tiniest bit. Cheol knows how hard it is for you to fall asleep in the car, but he still makes you try so you can get rest.

His eyes focus on the road, but he can’t help but steal glances at you and your cute expression. Not only does the moonlight bounce off of the nature around, but it also does the same to your face. It highlights your cheeks that he loves to pinch, your nose that he loves to boop, and your perfect lips that he loves to kiss. Your facial muscles relax when you seem to slip into a state of rest finally and the sight of your expression that he can only describe as angelic has his stomach doing flips.

It’s been almost five years and every single day that he gets to look at you, he counts just how lucky he is to call you his. From the moment he met you, you occupied space in Seungcheol’s mind, and to this day, over everything else in his life that swirls around in his brain, he always comes back to you. Your face, your voice, your body, your everything. You are everything to him and he’ll tell you every single day for the rest of your lives.

“I love you, so much,” He whispers as one of your favorite songs plays through the car and you stir, just a little.

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you. And everything you do.

A smile tugs at the corner of his as he glances your way again. The stars, the moon, the sun, all of it truly does shine for you and only you - his whole world.

When your phone’s calendar reads February 14th, you and Seungcheol finally make it to Las Vegas and you decide to treat yourselves to a fancier hotel. Instead of the usual 3-star hotels (and a few seedy motels) you stayed at along the trip, Seungcheol finds the nicest hotel that the two of you can afford. You even get so lucky as to somehow snag the honeymoon suite. “It is our love vacation after all,” being his reason yet again.

You definitely don’t complain when you walk into the room and kick your shoes off, immediately taken aback at just how fancy and spotless everything in the room looks. The bed is the biggest you think you’ve ever seen and is covered in rose petals. The large window across the room overlooks the city of Las Vegas, the neon lights brightening up the room before you even turn the lights on. The furniture looks modern and clean and the room even smells fresh yet sweet. You can’t place the scent of the air freshener, but you love it nonetheless.

“Holy shit, this is the nicest hotel room I’ve ever been in!” You marvel, running and plopping onto the large bed. The bed is big enough for you to starfish comfortably on and you start making comforter angels, Seungcheol laughing as he flops next to you.

“Only the best for my girl,” he hums, squeezing your socked feet, forcing a sigh out of you.

“Damn, I’m so sore.”

“Well if you’re interested, there’s a more comfortable place for your sore spots.”

You lift your head to look at Cheol and follow where his finger is pointing. There’s a half wall across the room made of decorative swirls of metal that you can see straight through. On the other side sits a large jacuzzi bathtub.

“Is that our tub?!” You spring up from the bed and rush over, eyes widening at the size.

Seungcheol comes up behind you while you’re admiring, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close. “That definitely looks like our very own giant, two-people-sized tub.”

“Looks like it has jets too.” Your hands rest atop his, fingers threading together.

“I think I even see some bubble bath on the counter over there.” Lips meet the back of your neck, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

“Hmm, how about I get the bath going and you grab the bottle of champagne chilling in that bucket by the bed? Then we can order room service. I’d love some good sushi.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Seungcheol punctuates his sentence with a final light kiss on your neck. You have to quite literally peel yourself from him, but you manage it as the two of you split up.

It only takes a few minutes for him to grab the bottle along with the two glasses and for you to get the bath running. As soon as the water is warm and bubbly, you and Seungcheol shed your clothes on the floor as you each slip into the tub with you sitting between his legs. He manages to find the button that powers the tub, the jets hitting you at all sides, including your outstretched feet.

You relax into the water, tilting your head back, and resting on Seungcheol’s shoulder.

“I have some bad news for you, Cheol.”

“What is it?”

“I think I must pass away here, just like this.”

Your boyfriend breathes out a laugh behind you, wrapping you in his arms again.

“You’re telling me you’d just up and leave me like that? And to stay with a bathtub no less!” You can hear the pout in Cheol’s voice and it makes you giggle.

“It’s nothing personal, baby, but I mean you can’t produce jet streams of soothing water.”

“Hmmm. That may be true, but I can do this.”

Seungcheol’s fingers dance up the front of your body, gently cupping your breasts and squeezing. His fingers tweak your nipples in between gropes, making you let out a surprised moan.

You practically melt into Seungcheol’s chest as he plays with your sensitive buds and your eyes flutter closed.

Soft moans fall from your lips as your head lolls to the side, Seungcheol using the opportunity to latch his lips to the side of your neck. His teeth scrape over your skin, nipping and biting along the way.

Seungcheol has always loved to mark you. He loves leaving not only signs to others that you’re his, but every hickey and every bruise is a little reminder that he’s the one who makes you feel good and he’s the one that you always come home to at the end of the day. Not that you need a reminder because you’ll always come back to Seungcheol no matter what.

You count at least two reminders now, one on the side of your neck and another at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His fingers never leave your nipples, the stimulation already making you nothing but putty in his hands. If you weren’t in the tub you’re sure you’d be making a mess of whatever panties you would be wearing.

Your boyfriend trails kisses from your shoulder, up your neck, to your ear, and lands on your cheek, peppering your face with a few more kisses. His plush, slightly chapped lips kiss any spot he can reach as his hands trail down from your waist to your thighs. Seungcheol opens your legs wide and shifts you both around in the tub. The moment the jet across from your body hits your clit, you let out a shriek and Seungcheol knows he’s positioned you the way he wants to.

The tub jet feels like heaven coupled with Seungcheol’s relentless hands that are back on your tits, cupping and squeezing in the perfect way you need it.

“Ngh, Cheol!”

“Hmm? What is it, baby?”

“F-fuck. I need you.”

“You need me? But didn’t you say a little while ago that you wanted to stay with the tub since it has jets? Aren’t you enjoying the jets right now?” His tone is smug yet teasing, warm breath hitting your ear and making you shiver.

“Cheol, please!” you pout at him, doing your best to beg in between whines.

“Oh, so you do need me, huh?”

“Yes!”

“And what is it that you need, sweetheart?”

Seungcheol tugs at one of your nipples harshly, making you jolt. You feel so close to cumming already, but you do your best to hold off. You want to cum around Seungcheol’s cock or even his fingers - something, anything of his.

You voice this to your boyfriend, choking and stumbling over your words along the way. Seungcheol’s gaze is heavy as he peers down at you, enjoying how you squirm and wiggle in his hold. Your head is resting on his shoulder as you look up at him, batting your eyelashes and pouting extra hard. He loves it when he can see how needy you are for him and how much you want him. He especially loves all of the noises you make for him - the pants and the moans and the whispers of his name.

He needs to hear more from your pretty lips, and he knows exactly how to do that.

With a smirk, one of Seungcheol’s hands releases your tit and trails between your legs. The tip of a finger taps against your clit, an embarrassing moan tumbling out of you in response.

The thick digit slides into your eager pussy and it takes everything in you not to sob at the feeling. Seungcheol crooks his finger as he pistons his hand and the heel of his palm knocks against your clit each time. You practically dissolve into his hold while his other hand plays with your nipple, your brain already turning to mush at all of these sensations combined.

“Fuck, sweetheart, listen to you. You sound so fucking pretty.”

“C-Cheol…”

“God I love it when you say my name. I wanna hear it again,” Seungcheol slips another finger into you, and you yelp out his name again without even thinking about it. His pace quickens, fucking you with his fingers as quickly as the bubbly water around you will allow.

“Yes! Please don’t stop, Cheol, please!”

“Mm, I won’t, baby. Want you to cum for me. Come on, pretty girl, let go for me.” Seungcheol’s voice is so deep that you practically feel it in the pit of your stomach. The pads of his fingers digging into your sweet spot, the jet from the tub still pelting your clit each time his hand moves, and his hard cock digging into your lower back are enough to have your world tilting and your orgasm knocking into you as soon as he tells you to let go.

Your body stiffens as you cum, the shrill sound of his name that you let out sounds too loud in your ears, but Seungcheol eats it up. He curses under his breath, telling you another handful of times how pretty you sound and how beautiful you look falling apart for him.

Seungcheol caresses your cheek and chin as you come down and when your breathing seems to steady, he tilts your face back and kisses you. His lips meld with yours, kissing you as if he’ll never get the chance again, making you even dizzier.

His tongue prods at the seam of your lips and when you let him in, he swallows up all of the desperate little sounds you puff out. He pulls back from your lips suddenly so he can help you turn around in his lap. The water in the tub sloshes as you get comfortable facing him and straddling his waist.

Neither of you wants to waste any more time, the carnal desire to have Seungcheol inside of you is a mutual feeling.

The head of Seungcheol’s swollen cock prods at your sensitive folds, whimpers falling from your lips as you start to sink onto his length. His hands hold your hips as you lower until he’s completely sheathed between your wet walls. You and Seungcheol have had sex more times throughout your relationship than you think you can feasibly count, and each and every time the stretch is familiar but always succeeds in taking your breath away.

“Shit, Cheol…”

“Feel good, baby? My fat cock stretching you out?” Seungcheol grunts between clenched teeth.

“Yes, s-so good, Cheollie.”

“You’re still so fucking tight, baby.” He winces when he feels your walls twitch, squeezing his dick and momentarily making him speechless. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

With Seungcheol’s grip tight on your hips, he helps you lift a little, letting his cock slip nearly all the way out before you slam back down and he’s shoved inside of you to the hilt. You share a groan as he helps you ride him, finding a steady rhythm. The water around you continues to splash, but he only moves you in his lap faster.

Your head falls back as you alternate between bouncing on his cock and swiveling your hips, letting out curses and calls of his name. Seungcheol bucks his hips up to meet your movements, fucking up into you as much as he can in the slippery tub.

“Shit, you look so beautiful like this. You were made to take my cock, you know that, baby? This pussy was made for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck!” His compliments only spur you on, your fingernails digging into the thick skin of his shoulders as you grind on him. Your thighs are starting to burn, but you ignore it. The feeling of your boyfriend’s girth driving up into you over and over makes you feel floaty, everything around you fading away. The only thing you feel and the only thing you know is Seungcheol and his hands on your moist skin, his lips sucking bruises onto your tits, and his dick kissing your g-spot with each harsh thrust.

Seungcheol knows your body better than anyone, so he knows when you’re going to cum. He notices the frantic cries, the way your body shakes, and that far-away look in your eyes.

“Gonna cum for me, beautiful?”

“Y-yes, fuck yes.”

“That’s right, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me. Can you do that?”

“Mmhmm! I’m so close, Cheollie!”

“I know, baby girl, I know,” Seungcheol moans against your chest, burying his head in between your tits as he drives his hips up so hard, you almost lose your balance. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “I’m close too, fuck - gonna fill you up. Can you handle that, baby girl?”

“A-always! I can a-always handle y-you, baby,” you gasp out, your stomach tightening and your body buzzing the closer you get.

Seungcheol keeps one arm around you while the other snakes in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit without even having to try. The stimulation shocks you and has you mumbling gibberish, a mix of your boyfriend’s name and pleading words. Your fingers slide up and into his dark locks, threading your fingers through the brunette strands and tugging, making him growl into your skin.

“Please, fuck, Cheol I’m gonna cum!”

“I love you so much baby,” Seungcheol nearly explodes right on the spot with how your gummy walls clench around him again, but he manages to hold off. “Cum for me, sweetheart…” He nips at the side of your breast and applies more dizzying pressure to your clit.

“I l-love you too! I’m cum - fuck!” Your words are cut off with a scream as you tumble right over the edge, cumming harder than you did the first time, tears pricking the edge of your eyes.

Seungcheol lets go right after you, his face still in your chest as he holds you close, moaning out words of pleasure, love, and admiration about you and how you feel like “literal fucking heaven” and how you’re his and his only. Seungcheol pumps you full of him, his warm seed dripping from your throbbing pussy and mixing with the remaining bubbles around you. Somewhere in between his pussy-drunk babbles your ears pick up something about making you his wife.

You both stay where you are for a few minutes, your fingers lazily raking through his hair as he keeps you close to him, placing small, closed-mouth kisses on your hot skin.

“I love you so much,” he mumbles, letting out a sigh as his hand, still between your bodies, moves to rest on your thigh.

“I love you too, Cheol,” you sigh back, a drunken-post orgasm smile on your lips. Even through your haze, you didn’t forget what he said. “Did you…did you mean what you said?” you whisper out, hoping he knows what you’re referring to.

“Which part?” His question sounds calm, but you notice the way his fingers on your thigh press into your skin a little harder.

“The part about making me your wife?” A fraction of a second of silence hangs between you both and part of you starts to panic. What if he only meant it at the moment? You’ve had fleeting conversations about one day being married, but it was always lighthearted and more in a “one day we will” way.

When Seungcheol finally answers you, it’s in the form of a sigh. Wordlessly, he lifts you from his softening cock and untangles your limbs, sitting you down in the tub.

“I didn’t want to do this now or like this, but I can’t hold it anymore. Especially not when you ask me and look at me like that.” He steps out of the tub, giving you another look before sticking his feet in his complimentary hotel slippers and shuffling into the main part of the room.

You watch him rummage around in his suitcase before he comes back to the tub and kneels on the bath mat, facing you. You immediately spot the red velvet box in his hands and you gasp, tears immediately gathering in your eyes.

“I wanted to do this when we got to Washington and say some cheesy words about seeing the world with you and traveling everywhere with you for the rest of our lives, but I can’t wait any longer. Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the honor of being my forever Valentine and be my wife?” The emerald stone of the ring shines back at you, surrounded by small diamonds on a gold band.

“Yes! Of course I will, Cheol!” you sob, tears blurring your vision as he plucks the ring from the box and slips it onto your finger, placing a kiss on your knuckle after it’s securely on.

Seungcheol cups your face with both hands as he leans forward and kisses you. The kiss is soft and warm and you can just feel the love that Choi Seungcheol holds for you in his heart seep out. His love overtakes you, your heart feeling more full than you think it’s ever been.

“I love you so much, Y/n.” he sighs when he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, Seungcheol. So fucking much.”

Your boyfriend fiance smiles widely at you, his own eyes red-rimmed with potential tears as he scans your face. “I can’t wait to officially make you my wife. And you know, if you want, we are in Vegas so we could technically make it official tonight.”

With a sniffle, you shake your head. “Patience, my love. We can worry about all that wedding stuff when we get home. Let’s just focus on us and this, and right now.”

He pouts dramatically before kissing your forehead. “Fine, I’ll wait.”

“Good boy,” you giggle, watching the way his eyes darken at your playful praise. “Now, how about we actually open that champagne and order room service? I’m still craving sushi badly.”

With a chuckle Seungcheol nods, standing as goes back into the room to look for the room service menu.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. We have all night to eat anything you want to order.”

“Good, because if they have good pizza I want that later too. Oh! Or maybe kimchi jeon if they happen to have that!” Seungcheol chuckles at your enthusiasm as he comes back with the menu.

Before you order, he helps you out of the tub when you complain about the water going cold. Dinner is put on hold again when you decide that a warm shower in the luxurious shower stall in the bathroom should come first before you get comfortable for the evening.

In between the warm water cascading over you and Seungcheol helping wash your back, you end up bent over the bench in the shower, Seungcheol slipping into your still-aching cunt again.

As your fiance makes you cry out around him yet again, somewhere between the moans and grunts, you’re both able to whisper “I love you” and “Happy Valentine's Day” when you share another blissful orgasm.

Tomorrow you’ll be back on the road and back to making the rounds for silly souvenirs, but tonight it’s all about you and Seungcheol and this moment right here. You can’t wait to have many, many more Valentine’s Days with the love of your life.

Permanent Taglist: @aaniag

Net Tags: @kflixnet @kbookshelf

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dostoyevsky-official · 10 months

Text

Grandi has dedicated his career to debunking the myths around Italian food; this is the first time he’s spoken to the foreign press.

Grandi’s speciality is making bold claims about national staples: that most Italians hadn’t heard of pizza until the 1950s, for example, or that carbonara is an American recipe. Many Italian “classics”, from panettone to tiramisu, are relatively recent inventions, he argues. [...] And his mission is to disrupt the foundations on which we Italians have built our famous, and famously inflexible, culinary culture — a food scene where cappuccini must not be had after midday and tagliatelle must have a width of exactly 7mm.

[...] “It’s all about identity,” Grandi tells me between mouthfuls of osso buco bottoncini. He is a devotee of Eric Hobsbawm, the British Marxist historian who wrote about what he called the invention of tradition. “When a community finds itself deprived of its sense of identity, because of whatever historical shock or fracture with its past, it invents traditions to act as founding myths,” Grandi says.

[...] Panettone is a case in point. Before the 20th century, panettone was a thin, hard flatbread filled with a handful of raisins. It was only eaten by the poor and had no links to Christmas. Panettone as we know it today is an industrial invention.

Parmesan, he says, is remarkably ancient, around a millennium old. But before the 1960s, wheels of parmesan cheese weighed only about 10kg (as opposed to the hefty 40kg wheels we know today) and were encased in a thick black crust. Its texture was fatter and softer than it is nowadays. “Some even say that this cheese, as a sign of quality, had to squeeze out a drop of milk when pressed,” Grandi says. “Its exact modern-day match is Wisconsin parmesan.” He believes that early 20th-century Italian immigrants, probably from the Po’ region north of Parma, started producing it in Wisconsin and, unlike the cheesemakers back in Parma, their recipe never evolved. So while Parmigiano in Italy became over the years a fair-crusted, hard cheese produced in giant wheels, Wisconsin parmesan stayed true to the original.

“Italian cuisine really is more American than it is Italian,” Grandi says squarely.

[...] Today, Italian food is as much a leitmotif for rightwing politicians as beautiful young women and football were in the Berlusconi era.

[P]oliticians understand the power of what Grandi terms “gastronationalism”. Who cares if the traditional food culture they promote is partly based on lies, recipes dreamt up by conglomerates or food imported from America? Few things are more reassuring and agreeable than an old lady making tortellini.

It wasn’t always like this. “The grandparents knew it was a lie,” Grandi tells me, finishing the last of his prosecco. “The philologic concern with ingredient provenance is a very recent phenomenon.” Indeed it’s hard to imagine that people who survived the second world war eating chestnuts, as my grandfather did, would be concerned about using pork jowl instead of pork belly in a pasta recipe. Or as Grandi puts it, “Their ‘tradition’ was trying not to starve.”

[...] As Grandi points out, a tradition is nothing but an innovation that was once successful.

Everything I, an Italian, thought I knew about Italian food is wrong

the most hated man in italy is a historian on a mission to prove that most immemorial italian traditions—like many elsehwere—date from 1860-1960

#focaccia is an ancient roman recipe however

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hannieehaee · 27 days

Text

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: it wont let me reply to people anymore but ill be tagging everyone who comments asking to be tagged just letting u guys know<3

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puckinghischier · 16 days

Text

Chef’s Kiss

Nico x fem!reader, soft!Nico, domestic!Nico

summary: Nico fluff, basically

notes: i just really love soft nico and couldn’t get him out of my head so here’s this (also ignore the fact i keep using the same pics in my posts, i need to find more 💀)

[2k]

Nico was always trying to do little things to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was having the laundry washed, folded, and put away by the time you got home, sending you funny videos and silly selfies throughout the day, or simply having a glass of your favorite wine waiting on you as soon as you walked through the door, he loved providing small moments of happiness for you. He didn’t have time to do things for you often, his schedule getting increasingly busier as the season goes on, but today he had a completely free afternoon and wanted to have your favorite meal plated and waiting for you to enjoy as soon as you got off work. The idea came to him when you called him on what was supposed to be your lunch break.

“Neeks, I’m so sorry but I have to work late again. I’m having to re-do all of my reports for the day because my boss didn’t like the format that I used, even though it’s the exact format he told me to use three days ago! I swear sometimes he just wants to make my life a living hell. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Nico had a fond smile on his face, despite the nature of your call; hearing you rant to him about work was always something he looked forward to. While he didn’t love the fact that you were upset and that your boss was a grade A asshole, he loved being the one you came to when you were frustrated and just needed to blow off steam. It always made him happy to know that he was the one you called when you needed a mid-day pick me up on particularly stressful days. He had tried to tell you multiple times to just quit—that he makes enough for the both of you to live on – but you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. You’d always tell him no and that you needed to pull your weight with the bills and rent, too. You didn’t want to have all of the tears you shed while you were in college go to waste. To quote your exact words ‘I’m going to use this damn degree even if it kills me’. He admired your work ethic and that you didn’t want to have him be your own personal bank, but it was times like this he wishes you would just take his suggestion to heart and actually quit.

“I understand, but don’t work too late, schatz. It’s not good for you. Tuck and I will be here waiting on you when you get here,” Nico looks over at the cat quietly snoozing over on the couch. “I noticed you left your lunch in the fridge; do you need me to bring you something? I don’t have to go back to the rink today for anything, so I could pick up something from that sushi place you like and we could have a little lunch date? Give you a few minutes to reset and recharge?”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have time to eat today anyways. At this point working through lunch is the only way I’ll be able to come home before midnight. Thanks for the offer, though, Neeks. I have to go, my boss is calling me, probably to tell me something else I did wrong. I’ll text you when I leave, love you,” you hang up the phone, not giving Nico a chance to respond. He knows your boss hates when he catches you taking personal calls on company time, so he just sends you a simple “I love you, too. Please eat something and don’t work too hard” text since you hung up before he had time to tell you himself.

As soon as he pressed send, Nico grabbed his keys and took off to the grocery store. He really only went to pick up the ingredients to make dinner, but he couldn’t help making a quick stop at the local florist, grabbing a small bouquet of daisies he knows you’ll love. As he was driving home, he remembers this bakery you had told him you’ve been wanting to try, so he finds himself in said bakery picking out a few baked goods for you to taste test (and maybe a few for himself, too). By the time he had made it back home it was well past five, when you typically leave your office for the day. Once he brought his haul of groceries, flowers, and pastries in the door, Tuck greeted him by meowing loudly for his food.

“Sorry, Tuck, I’m late for dinner, aren’t I?” Nico asks the cat as he walks over and fills the hangry cat’s food bowl. “Now that you’re fed, I need to get to work on feeding your mom. That is, if I can manage not to burn anything.”

Nico got to work immediately, turning on the cooking playlist you had made and grabbing his ‘Kiss the Swiss’ apron you had jokingly gifted him for Christmas. He pulled out the recipe book that your mom gave you two as a house-warming gift when you first moved in. Just last week you had been talking about how you missed your mom’s famous pasta, so he decided that was his attempted dish of the night. He laid out all of the ingredients and followed the recipe as closely as he could, paying special attention to all of the little notes your mother added in the margins of the typed recipe. About an hour into Nico’s cooking you sent him a text that you were nearly finished and would be home soon, but he was so busy trying to perfect making pasta from scratch that he never even looked at his phone. When he was on his third attempt at the pasta dough, he heard the front door open.

He looked over at the clock to see that it was nearly seven-thirty. He heard your keys hit the bowl sitting on the small table beside the front door and your sigh of relief once you took your shoes off. He could hear the soft thuds your feet made on the hardwood while you walked into the living room. He looked up from the counter to see your tired body drift over to the couch where Tuck laid sound asleep.

“Hey, Tuck. How was your day? Did you catch a lot of Z’s? Dream about catching mice? Poop on your dad’s pillow again?” Nico heard your soft voice say, chuckling at your last question.

The poor kitten had, somehow, got locked in yours and Nico’s bedroom a few weeks ago and neither of you noticed until it was well past feeding time and the little furball hadn’t come running into the kitchen screaming for his dinner. It took the two of you twenty minutes to hear the soft meows coming from your bedroom, the TV in the living room having drowned them out for most of the day. As soon as you opened the door Tuck came sprinting out of the room as fast as he could, acting as if he’d been in there for days. He ran straight to his food bowl and turned around, glaring at Nico and yourself. Later that evening the two of you made your way to the bedroom to settle down for the night only to find that Tuck had left a nice, smelly present on his pillow. Nico was appalled, to say the least. Gagging and holding his pillow out with straight arms as if it was poisonous. You, however, were doubled over with laughter. You fell onto the bed and were laughing hysterically when Nico finally came back into the room, no pillow to be seen.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing; it’s disgusting! The cat shit on my pillow!” Nico expressed, standing in front of the bed with his arm crossed, looking like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“Neeks, it’s hilarious! Out of all the places in the room he could’ve shit, he saw your pillow and thought ‘Ah, yes. Dad’s pillow. I think this will be my new bathroom.” You wipe the tears from your eyes, slightly out of breath from your laughing fit.

“Well, of course it’s funny when it’s not your pillow! If he would’ve shit on your pillow, you would be as upset as I am.” Nico huffed, still in his childish stance.

“Wait, where is your pillow?”

“In the trash.”

“You threw away the whole pillow!?” you exclaimed, starting to laugh all over again.

“Of course, I threw away the whole pillow! I’m not about to sleep on that thing tonight! It’s contaminated!”

“Nico, you could’ve just gotten a new pillow case. You didn’t have to throw your whole pillow away! What are you going to sleep on tonight?” You asked him, amusement clear in your voice.

“Well…I didn’t think that far ahead,” Nico said, his stance deflating a little.

He ended up sleeping on a throw pillow from the couch that night, picking up a new pillow on his way home from practice the next morning. Since then, the two of you have always made sure to keep your bedroom door open anytime Tuck isn’t in his usual spot on the couch.

Nico smiles at the memory, completely forgetting the fact that he was supposed to be kneading the pasta dough in his hands. By the time his thoughts circulate back to the task at hand, he hears you ask the cat “Where’s your dad, huh?” followed by the sound of your clothes rustling as you move to get off of the couch.

“Nico? You in here?” you call as you walk around the corner of the living room into the kitchen. “Neeks- Oh, there you are. What are you doing?” You stopped in the doorway of the kitchen when you took in the scene in front of you. The pots and pans on the stove, the steam coming from a pot of boiling water, the smell of chicken in the oven, and the bouquet of flowers and box of pastries on the counter next to them. Then your eyes move over to Nico, noticing he was absolutely covered in flour. He had flour in his hair, on his face, on his apron, in the floor, and all over the counter.

“Nico, what the hell are you doing? What is all of this?” you asked him once the two of you made eye contact.

“Well, I was trying to have dinner waiting on you when you got home because I know you’ve had a shitty day, but I’ve just now realized that I don’t know how to make pasta from scratch.”

“Why are you trying to make pasta from scratch?” you walk towards him, laughing at how distraught he looks.

“You said you’ve been craving your mom’s pasta recipe, so I thought it would be a good way to cheer you up after the day that you’ve had,” he replied, grabbing a towel to wipe the flour off of his hands.

“Nico, I love you, I do. And I appreciate the effort, but please throw that ball of…whatever that is in the trash and just use dried pasta next time,” you look over at what’s supposed to be pasta dough, reaching him and placing your arms on his shoulders, hands coming together to rest on the back of his neck.

“I try to make you a nice meal and this is the response I get? No ‘nice try’ or ‘wow, it smells great in here!’” he jokes, looking down at you, attempting to look offended, but his eyes only reflect love and amusement.

“You’ll get real praise when you learn how to make pasta from scratch. For now, consider this your compliment,” you stand on your toes, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“You call that a compliment? Read the apron and try again.”

You laugh before meeting him halfway for a real kiss this time, thinking to yourself just how lucky you were to have Nico in your life.

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