#amanda x y/n

[shiro-ravs]

hii<3 can u do an one shot where mark hoffman is y/n's dad and gets mad when amanda is flirting with y/n?

amanda x reader

synopsis: you get grounded by your dad (hoffman) as amanda is flirting with you.

tw: age gap (y/n is 18, amanda is 30); hair pulling; sex toys; light spanking; dom amanda; sub y/n; lesbian; calling names; mommy amanda

You and your dad are just walking out of the place where Amanda is working on her new trap. Hoffman, John's apprentice and also your father - was helping her with it. And you? You were there just because of boredom. And maybe to admire Amanda, as she was the hottest woman you've ever seen. The way she- "Y/n, are you okay?" Huh. You realized you have been staring at Amanda's lips for few minutes now, meanwhile slightly biting your own bottom lip. "Yeah. Sorry, what were you saying?" you responded. "I said Hoffman's waiting in the car. I'll see you tomorrow, beautiful." A blush crept up your face when you heard the last word, how she called you beautiful. She noticed your red cheeks, so she walked up to you and whispered into your ear. "When will you stop being so fucking cute, baby?" Oh well, this caught you off guard. Amanda touched your hips softly with her fingers, which made you feel goosebumps. Suddenly, a sound of a car door slamming interrupted both of you. It was your dad, of course. You shifted your gaze at him. He was smoking a cigarette, looking at you. His face immediately said that you're taking too long. Amanda quickly turned around and left without saying goodbye. Without any choice, you approached the car and got in the front seat. "What did I tell you before?" He asked in an aggressive tone. "That Amanda is your rival and I shouldn't talk with her..." "Exactly young lady, and here I am, watching you flirt with that dumb bitch who sees me as an only heavy lifting useful guy." You knew he didn't like you talking to her, but you couldn't help it at all. "I'm sorry daddy but I really didn't mean to!" Tears start to appear in your eyes, as he screams at you. "Fuck it. You're grounded. No going out of your room for a week." You stayed in silence the rest of the ride, sobbing quietly. Feeling of breeze on your face was perfectly relaxing. As you were looking throught a window, you noticed someone under your house. Gasp escaped your mouth when you realized it's Amanda. She pointed at you and gave you a sign to come. You jumped out of the window onto her arms. You sat on her bed just like she did. It was awkard, because until now you only watched her working on traps. "I know how you look at me, pretty." she confessed. At first you were clearly confused, but after awhile you understood what she meant. As you were about to respond, she pinned you down on the bed and looked in your eyes, grinning from ear to ear. "And I also know how much you want me to fuck you." Amanda undressed you. Since you were the only one naked, it felt unfair but also made you more and more wet. You didn't expect one thing. Her soon grabbing a vibrator. She pressed it against your clit, making you whimper her name. "A-Amanda~ Nghh~" "Please.. Mm...~" Amanda kissed your lips, suppressing your moans, then neck, tasting your skin, and finally your nipples. While holding your wrists, she turned you over to make you now bend on your stomach. "I-I think... Ahh.. I'm.. Ngh.. going to cu-" "Not so fast, Angel." She spanked your ass and pulled your hair. "Be a good girl and make mommy proud~ And I'll name my new trap Angel Trap." she whispered. Amanda put the vibrator aside to then put her lips on your cunt. You groaned as she licked your hole gently. You quickly felt mommy's tongue twirl neatly in you, which caused you to cum almost immediately, drooling over. And that wasn't the last time you came tonight.

[aperrywilliams]

From Now On (Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader.

Summary: After faking his death for seven months, Spencer is back just to find out you’re eight months pregnant. After the initial commotion and your denial, you both step into the apartment you used to share. Things have changed and you must talk about it.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Talking about gunshots, blood, hospitals, faking death, pregnancy symptoms, potential abortion. If I missed something, let me know.

A/N: I’m back! I don't know for how long, but I needed to do something to fight my writer's block. This story can be read independently, but it is the second part of Seven Months.

-----

The cab ride to your apartment is mainly silent. Your head is tucked into Spencer's shoulder as he rubs your back from time to time. His nose is buried in your hair, inhaling your scent. God, he had missed it so much. He had missed you so much.

And he missed so much of your life in the past seven months. And that scares the shit out of him.

How would he fit into your life now? Does he have any right after faking his death and not telling you anything?

Rossi and Morgan told him you would understand eventually. That you would forgive him for doing this to you.

And maybe you are really considering. Maybe that’s why you went for him to Derek’s in the middle of the night.

Spencer wants that more than anything, but he feels like he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.

Now you both are in front of your building complex. The one that used to be his too.

Spencer knows the concrete walls are the same, but they don't feel like they are.

It's a strange feeling. A feeling that gets stronger when you open the apartment door.

Stepping inside, he knows this is where he used to live, but it doesn't look the same.

The shelves are no longer full of his books. Gone is his globe and coins collection that usually laid over the desk. There are just a couple of pictures of him with you on the wall. The decoration is different. Did you paint the place? Spencer is almost sure of that because it looks brighter than he remembered.

He's silent, inspecting everything around him. The walls, the bookshelf, the furniture: all changed.

After you take off your coat and hang it on the rack, your eyes follow him.

You know what’s going on. You have known Spencer for so long. Even if you thought you lost him, you still can read him like a book.

“Hope isn’t look too bad. I needed to, you know, make some changes?” you explain, not sure how to put the last months in words. Spencer turns to look at you, guilt written over his face. He knows what your words imply and remorse eats him alive.

“I - I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sure it's not enough to erase the hell you have been through since he were gone. Since they told you he was dead.

“I know.” Your response is short but not because you don’t have things to say. It's because you don’t know how to start. “Uh. Would you like some tea?”

It's the safest path. The one you both usually have taken the times you had fought and then try to speak it off. It's different this time, though.

Spencer hesitates. In other circumstances, he would agree and sit on the couch to talk. But it's late, the day has been a rollercoaster and you are eight months pregnant. He knows you should be sleeping, or resting at the very least.

“Maybe it's better you go to bed? It's late and you must be tired,” he points, nervously fidgeting with his hands, his gaze shifts between your eyes and belly.

“Honestly? I don't think I could sleep tonight even if I try,” you confess, moving to the kitchen to put the kettle.

”I don't think I could sleep either,” he admits, following to the kitchen. He wants to help, but he doesn’t want to look like an intruder in your space. A space that it’s not his anymore. Noticing Spencer doesn't know what to do with himself, you invited him to take a seat on the barstool.

“It will be ready in no time, don’t worry.”

You are the one who endured months of grief from your fiancee, carrying his child, and you are the one comforting him. Spencer thinks it's not fair.

In silence, he looks with raptor fascination at the way you move around the kitchen. It's delicate and calm. You have a glow that captivates him. You don’t realize his gaze until you turn to put the mugs over the counter.

“What?” you question softly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, eyes entranced in you. You laugh, shaking your head.

“Come on, Spencer. I look like a mess. This belly reaches everything minutes before I can. It's huge! I can barely walk decently. Look at my hair! And my skin. It's sticky all the time.”

As you ramble about why isn’t accurate to call you beautiful, Spencer stands from the stool and rounds the kitchen counter to step in front of you. He wants to reach for your hands that you’re waving in the air to emphasize your point, but refrains. He’s still unsure about initiating physical contact. He rests his hands on the counter and clears his throat.

“I can certainly say it's not the way you are used to feeling. But the way I see you right now? I see beauty, power, and life. It's light what I see on you.”

You don’t know when tears started to roll down your cheeks. But hearing the adoration in Spencer’s words only spurs you to let out your emotions.

“You know my hormones have been doing a number on me, right? You’re not helping,” you complain, chuckling. After handing Spencer his tea, you take yours and walk to the living room.

You carefully sit on the couch and reach for the blanket in the back to cover your lower half. Spencer mimics your actions, sitting as well on the couch, but at a safe distance from you.

A silence envelops the room. Your hand plays with the strands at the end of the blanket, and your eyes scrutiny Spencer’s face. He looks tired, with prominent circles under his eyes, and stubble for days of no shaving.

He is analyzing you too. Even if your eyes denote exhaustion, he can see the strength that makes you look put together despite everything that has been going on.

He can see the protectiveness too. Rubbing your belly in soothing motions, shielding your non-born child from the unknown, the uncertain.

How much he would have given to be the one who could have protected you and the baby from the first minute.

“I guess you have questions,” you prompt. “But I have mine too, so if you don’t mind,” you trail off and Spencer understands what you want. He nods, preparing himself to answer whatever question you have. After a pause to collect your thoughts, you start to speak again.

“What really happened in that warehouse? Why you didn't let me go inside with you?”

You are talking about the day Spencer was shot and beaten for the unsub. The day he ended up at the hospital just to be declared dead hours after.

“I thought if we didn't split we could lose him. We were so close so many times. I thought it was our last chance. It never occurred to me it was a trap. That he wanted me there alone. I just didn't see it,” Spencer swallowed hard, remembering that day. You stayed in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“I heard his voice telling me he had you, and I panicked. So I ran to him. I let my guard down. When I realized he was lying it was too late.”

“But you launched at him. Why didn't you try to stall him first?” You asked, leaving your mug on the coffee table, feeling the suddenly urge to protect yourself with your arms around you. You never talked about what really happened with anyone. Not even to Hotch when he questioned you during the FBI investigation of the incident.

The way Spencer reacted with the unsub is something you never understood. The profile said the unsub was a guy who liked to show off, so trying to incite him to do that while waiting for backup would have been reasonable.

“The way he laughed. Maybe sounds stupid, but- I saw the resolve of an end game, and not like the typical bragging-end game, it was an evil-end game. He had the upper hand and he knew it. If I didn't do something first, he would have gone after you. And I couldn't let that happen. I didn't count on the hidden gun, though. Another mistake,” he breaths out.

You remember like it was yesterday rushing to the warehouse after hearing two gunshots. Once inside you saw Spencer lying on the floor, in a pool of blood.

“You were there and I didn't know what to do,” you recount your side of the story. “It was the worst nightmare. I screamed for help and it felt like an eternity before someone came to us. And your eyes-” You stop for a second, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “You - you were saying goodbye and I wasn’t ready.”

Your resolve from earlier seems to crumble as you revisit what happened in that warehouse. Tears are now rolling down your cheeks, and you bite your bottom lip to stop their quivering.

Spencer wants to hold you, but he’s afraid of how you would react, so tentatively rests his hand on your knee. You are shaking and he’s worried this conversation could do more harm than good.

“We can stop. You are not feeling okay,” he points out. But despite Spencer's apprehensions, this conversation must happen now.

“I need to get this out of my chest. Please, let me do this. I know you need it too.”

Spencer knows you are right. You both need this.

“Do you remember anything after the shots?” you ask, and Spencer thinks for a moment.

“I remember being there, the sharp pain in the chest and my ribs. But most of it is a blur. I remember seeing you there. Crying. God. I hated seeing you cry. I think you held my hand?”

You nodded. “I was so scared, but with you there, I wasn’t anymore. The last thing I remember it’s the guilt of not saying I love you for the last time. I really thought it was the end for me,” he admits, his own tears blurring his sight.

“It was for me, though,” you mumbled, a sad look in your eyes. “I mean, I still had hopes when you were moved to the hospital, but deep down I knew I shouldn’t have had them. And everything shattered when JJ came to the waiting room and told us you didn't make it.”

A heavy sigh escapes from Spencer’s lips. Neither JJ nor Hotch had told him how they let it know the team he was ‘gone.’

“I can’t even imagine - It was unfair to you. And I know no matter what I say it won’t make it better.”

Your thoughts wander to the moment after you heard JJ saying Spencer was dead.

Disbelief. Pain. Denial.

And then, days of numbness.

“You know. I just shut off. I have some flashbacks. Rossi hugging me; Hotch telling me to take all the time I needed; Morgan crying with me.”

It feels weird to recall those memories as yours, like an alternative universe that turned different at the end.

“Where did you go?” Spencer asks. The thought of you in the apartment alone after that breaks his heart.

“Emily took me to her place because I couldn't put a foot here. I stayed with her for a couple of days. She helped me a lot to get through this,” you recognize. And for that, you will always be grateful to her.

You also tell Spencer about how the whole team helped you to make it through the days. Some kind of relief washes over him knowing you didn't face it alone.

He can’t fathom how difficult it was for you, also knowing you were pregnant. And about that...

“When did you find out?” He asks, eyes darting to your belly. You follow his gaze trajectory and a little smile creps on your face.

“Almost a month later. I was feeling sick all the time. Emily pushed me to get checked. They took blood tests and stuff. When they told me I couldn't believe it. For me, it was a twisted joke,” you admit, hanging your head low.

Spencer dreads asking the next question but you already know what is, so you keep talking.

“Yes. I had thought about it. I didn't feel in a good place to be a mom, Spencer. I barely could make it through the days. And having a baby? Fuck, just thinking about it was too much.”

You tell him about how you cried your eyes out. How lost you felt for days. The doubts about the future, but above everything, the protectiveness that aroused in you once the idea settled. Yeah, you couldn’t keep Spencer safe, but you were determined to save the part of him growing in you.

“And seven months later, here I am. About to give birth to our baby,” you conclude, lovingly rubbing your belly.

“It’s weird, you know?” Spencer begins. “The last time I saw you and now. It feels like I lost time. And I know I lost it. It’s just - I never expected to see things so changed. I don’t know how I fit here. What I’m saying doesn’t make any sense right now-” he trails off, darting his gaze to the fidgeting hands on his lap.

He’s been holding back. You notice. Since you both crossed the threshold he has been afraid of invading your personal space, of touching you. Now it makes sense.

“That's why you have been keeping your distance from me?” you ask. Spencer’s eyes quickly flash to you. Guilt is written on his face.

“What?”

Your gaze soften seeing him so stressed by being caught. It's true the past months have been tough for you, but they have been tough for him too. And to see a before and an after so different probably has him reeling.

“Since we put a foot in this apartment you have kept a safe distance. I’m not judging you, I really don’t. I just want to know what’s on your mind right now,” you explain, shifting on the couch to change your position. With an eight-month belly is difficult to be comfy in any position.

Spencer sighs. There are so many things revolving inside his brain that it’s not easy to put them in words.

“When I woke up in a hospital bed in Bethesda, the first thing I looked for was if you were there. But I was alone. A strange feeling squeezed my chest. For a moment I thought -” he pauses to take a breath. “I thought everything had gone wrong and the unsub had hurt you or the team, or both. I was about to freak out when a marshal came and explained to me what happened.”

Spencer recounts how the agent told him about his new destination and how this assignment was for an undetermined time.

“Since then, not a single day passed without the urge to take a plane and come back. To you. But what if I messed up putting you at risk doing so? It was insane to know I was dead for you and I couldn't do anything to fix it.”

“That's why you wrote the letters?” Spencer nodded. In a notepad, he wrote a letter to you every single day since he landed in Paris. He handed you the notepad at the BAU this afternoon before you stormed out, completely shaken and confused.

“I needed to put in words each day without you. I needed to tell you I was there, even if you never could read it.”

His shaky breath forces him to take some seconds to compose himself. You took that as your cue. Shifting again, you scoot a bit closer to him and reach tentatively for his hand, and he clings to it as if his life depended on it.

“And I’m here right now. And so do you,” you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’m as scared as you are, but we need to do something to get through this. If it is something you want to do,” you add. Spencer's glassy eyes find yours.

“It's all I want. Maybe it's hard for me to understand I can’t fix something like this, but I want a chance to make us work again. I know I can’t get back time, but if you let me I want to gain back the place I lost the day I gone.”

Spencer’s free hand flies to your cheek to wipe with his thumb the tears you haven’t noticed are falling.

“We can start with something,” you prompt, reaching for a folder resting at the coffee table. After opening it, you produce a bunch of ultrasound pictures and hand them to him. From the first appointment you had, to the last one from a week ago.

Spencer’s eyes sparkle with excitement, seeing every detail and the way the baby has grown in the past months.

Tears fall freely and there is pure emotion that fills his heart.

So many nights you both spent talking about what it would be like to have a baby. How wonderful it would be to see them grow. About what traits they would inherit from each of you.

You smile at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. It feels so good to see in him the same excitement you have. You both wanted this. And until today you thought only you would get the chance to experience it.

After inspecting and committing to memory each detail from each pic, Spencer’s eyes find yours again.

“Do you know the baby’s-” he trails off. He’s unsure, maybe you didn't want to know or want him to know.

You have known the baby’s gender for a while now but have not told to anyone. From the same folder, you extract an envelope you offer to him. With trembling hands, Spencer takes it and gets the paper from inside. Scanning the words he realizes it is the information of your baby’s gender.

“It's - it's a girl,” he reads aloud with a cracking voice and more tears in his eyes. You nod, your own tears clouding your vision.

“Yes. Do you remember when we talked about having a baby and you told me you wanted a girl? When I found out the gender, I thought about how happy you would have been,” you sniffle, and Spencer reaches for you, now wrapping you in a loving embrace.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he repeats over and over, kissing your temple. You close your eyes, losing yourself in his chest, inhaling his scent.

You stay like this for a moment. Contently in each other arms. Spencer still can’t believe he got the chance to hold you again, and you are still assimilating the day’s events. It's unbelievable how everything changed in less than twenty-four hours.

“I love you,” he mumbles in your hair, a hand moving to rub your belly. “And I love you,” he says now, talking to your baby.

“We love you too, Spencer,” you respond, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped, and we will never stop.”

Parting from your embrace, you get lost in each other's eyes. Communicating without words what this moment means to both of you. Cupping your face, Spencer leans to find your lips with his in a loving kiss. You kiss him back, pouring all your feelings.

It's a new promise of love.

After breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Will we be okay?” he asks, almost in a whisper.

“From now on, we will be,” you assure him. It feels like you are telling this to yourself too. Maybe you do. Everything still looks messy right now, but life is giving you a second chance, and neither Spencer nor you is willing to let it go.

-----

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

[nabooberrie]

Close enough, welcome back supernatural

[kingsoowolves]

biteable | jsc

pairing: boyfriend!sungchan x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: fun little idea that came up to me while I was talking with @melobin about biting Sungchan in this ask. I’m very normal about his arms, I promise! (no, I’m not 😫)

contents: established relationship. smut and fluff. dom!sungchan & sub!reader. biting and marking. thoughts and talks about possessiveness/jealousy.

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you'd like

You love to munch on your boyfriend every chance you get. At this point, it’s no secret at all.

His kind acts, pretty face and adorable attitudes activate your cuteness aggression every other day, so you’re often squeezing his face, making his lips pucker to drop a kiss on them or biting his cheeks. You just can’t help but think he’s the cutest creature in the world and particularly charming when he’s doting on you and making you feel special. Although the way he’s adoring you right now it’s quite far from cute.

Currently, he has his dick stuffed deep inside your pussy, making you scream and crush his hands in pleasure rather than in infatuation for him. You’re laying in your bed with your legs spread open, the side of them brushing the sheets, while he’s up with his knees slightly pressing on the mattress, perpendicular to you while he drives his hips forward and backwards again and again in a slow pace that’s sure to drive you insane any minute now. His hands that are holding your hips are covered by yours, your fingers trying – and failing – to fill the space in between his fingers to loosen his strong grip on you so you’d be able to meet his thrusts in a faster rhythm.

But of course, Sungchan knows you. He knows he can’t give you any power when you are as desperate as you are now, because then you’d both be cumming a lot faster than intended and that’s not what he wants..

What he wants is to continue his leisure and sweet slides of his cock inside of you, savoring the way your pussy keeps swallowing him whole. And he makes sure you know it.

“That’s it, baby, sucking me in so good,” he groans, his voice low and shaky. “Love fucking this pussy so much.”

“Jinsu, please,” you reply in between broken moans. “Please go faster.”

“So adorable when you beg, baby. But not yet,” he tsks at you, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” you state.

“And you’re desperate,” he says, crouching down so he’s hovering above you, his chest squeezing your boobs in between your bodies, but still keeping his hands steady on your hips. “You always ask for faster, but you love it when I go slow.”

You hate that he’s right. No matter how long you beg for him to fasten his tempo, you end up loving his lazy strokes, especially when they make his cock rub sweetly on your g-spot like it’s doing now. But still, you want more. You need more.

“I love it when you’re inside of me, baby. No matter how,” you say matter-of-factly. Because it is true. And also because you hope that it will soften his heart and make him just as desperate as you.

Sungchan eyes you suspiciously and then moves his lips to the shell of your ear. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” he mutters, punctuating each word with a hard slide of his cock, making you babble incoherently. He snickers at your reaction, pulling his head back to look into your eyes and coo at you. “Are you fucked dumb already? I barely even started.”

“Fuck you,” you spit at his beautiful face.

“You are doing it right now, baby,” he says and you roll your eyes again.

After long minutes of keeping the same rhythm, he finally gives in a little, sliding his hands under you to hoist you further onto the bed and finally laying on it, pressing his body full on yours and then relocating his hands to your waist. Of course, the weight of him pressing down on you still prevents you from moving just the way you want, but now you have a little more room to discreetly wiggle your hips back and forth.

“You’re really testing my patience today,” he says when he notices what you’re doing, flames shining behind his eyes with slight anger.

“I’m testing your patience? You’re the one who doesn’t want to fuck me right!” You cry out in outrage, the intense feeling coursing through you.

At your words, he halts all movements, stopping midway through sliding out of you and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. You know you fucked up at the very moment the phrase was out of your mouth, but pride and irritation make you purse your lips together instead of apologizing.

“Well, if I’m fucking you wrong,” he says, opening his eyes again to pierce them at you, annoyance dripping from his words, “then maybe I should just stop fucking you at all.”

Your response is immediate, your eyes widening and legs and arms tightening around Sungchan before he has the chance to pull out of you.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whisper pleadingly, your hands holding his face to yours so he cannot look away. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” You drop three kisses on his lips, but he doesn’t kiss you back. You’re heartbroken at the lack of reaction from him. “I’m just so needy today,” you continue, your voice faltering as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “I missed you. It’s been so long we’ve been together like this.” It’s true. Work and other responsibilities have been keeping you away from each other for weeks. Now the both of you have finally caught a break for a few days and you just missed him so much. “And I needed to— I’m so sorry. I’m a brat. You can punish me however you want, but please don’t— Please, Jinsu, I’m—”

Sungchan shushes your babbling when his hands come to your face. You lean into his touch like a cat as he caresses your cheeks and you purr from just the small hint of affection. “Shhhh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” he assures you, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I get it. I missed you too. And I’m gonna do it how you want it, okay?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t deserve it. I’ve been bad—”

“You’ve been my sweet, beautiful, good girl whom I missed so much. And you deserve to be fucked the way you want to,” he says in the sweetest voice ever and drops a kiss to your lips. You follow his mouth when he retreats, trying to coax him into kissing you more, but he resists. “I’m going to give it to you now, okay? And we can go for round two later if you want.”

You’ve never seen Sungchan melt on you so fast before, never seen him change from hard to soft dom in such short notice. You’re taken aback at his sudden change in demeanor, but you can feel the sincerity dripping from his voice and the emotion translated on the shiny tears that gathers at his eyes. “Really?” You ask still, waiting for a confirmation, a stray tear falling from your right eye.

He nods and grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles as he glides fully inside of you again. “Of course, baby.” Then he moves his lips to the trail of the last tear in your face, kissing it until it disappears completely. He places more kisses on you, his lips covering you in his love and his spit as he sucks on your skin repeatedly.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you. I love you so much,” you whisper, gripping his shoulders and raking your nails there.

“I love you too, baby,” he mutters back, ghosting his mouth over yours and kissing you one more time. “Ready?”

You nod. “Ready.”

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. He slams inside you hard, fast and effortlessly in an unrelenting pace. It’s so powerful you grit your teeth and he has to grip you again so you don’t slip away from him. You think there’ll probably be bruises on your hips in the morning, but you don’t care because your sweet caring boyfriend finally took in consideration your request in bed. And his cock is hitting your cervix in the most delicious way, too.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you scream, moans freely flying out of your mouth. “You’re the best, Jinsu. The most perfect boyfriend. Thank you.”

He chuckles and nips on your clavicle. “If I knew that’s what I‘d get from giving you what you want, I would have done it sooner, baby.”

“Well, I did ask for it more than once before,” you snicker, earning another bite from him, this time a harder one.

“Careful now,” he adverts and you quiet your bratty remarks. There’s no need to make him angry again when he’s being so good to you.

“Sorry,” you whisper and he laughs, moving his arms to rest on the bed, bracketing them on both sides of your head.

That’s when you see it. The veins popping up on his forearms, how they beautifully decorate his skin, from his elbow to the back of his hands. You lick your lips and move your head to the side on instinct, guided solely by the purpose of getting your mouth on him. You kiss his flesh tenderly, laving at it with your tongue and sucking on what you can, tracing the veins with your lips. While you do it, your eyes focus on his biceps, on how they bulge every time he plunges inside of you and relax every time he slides out. Again, you lick your lips and stretch your neck further to reach it. You’re able to kiss the taut muscle just above his right elbow and you smile happily to yourself as you start nibbling on it. Sungchan is so distracted keeping the pace he set and looking down at where your bodies connect that he doesn’t notice it. So you indulge yourself in the moment, delivering bite after bite after, lingering on the next one longer than the last, and kissing and licking in between to calm the blemish that rises on his flesh.

You start to see the indents of your teeth on his skin and, damn, they look so freaking good adorning him. And then you remember the last time you went to the gym with him, how so many pairs of eyes focused on his arms while he did dumbbell curls and bench dips.

Something comes over you. A deep need to mark and assert your territory bubbles up deep down on your belly, flows up through your brain cells and takes over your actions. And just like that, you’re biting his skin harder than before, setting your jaw firm to stamp him with your canines. For a moment, Sungchan still remains oblivious to your actions and everything stays still. But then he’s yelping in surprise and shaking his arm away from you, kneeling up to get it out of your reach.

“Shit, baby. What was that?” He asks, hand going around his elbow and eyes looking at his bicep to inspect this damage. “You almost bit my arm off.”

You finally come to your senses, noticing what you’ve just done, and slip into your docile self again. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know what came over me. You were looking so good and I—”

“Well, you didn’t have to actually eat me,” he says with a light tilt to his voice, his thumb tracing the imprint of your teeth on his flesh and showing it to you. “Look, it left a mark.”

You focus on his skin and how the unmistakable dent from your front teeth is formed there. You think it looks beautiful.

“Oh my god, you wanted to do it! This turned you on!” He accuses after gauging your reaction and seeing only satisfaction and possessiveness in your eyes.

You’re caught red handed. But at least you cast down your eyes and bite your underlip in remorse. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You just looked so biteable,” you say sincerely.

He chuckles and lays his body back down on yours, still laughing as he presses a kiss to your lips. “It’s okay, baby. But there will be payback!” You grin at his clear promise of doing the same to you and he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re turned on by that too, right?”

You nod your head. There’s no reason to lie. He’d see right through you anyway. “Yes, please do it.”

“Naughty girl,” he whispers, shaking his head again and kissing your jaw. He’s back to slowly grind his hips against yours now, but you don’t mind. You love the playful atmosphere that your mishap just set down on you both.

“Com’on, you’re not going to tell me you're turned on by it, too?” You say and he stays silent, moving his lips to your neck now. “I felt your dick twitching when you said it, Sungchan!”

“Okay, okay, I admit it,” he replies with laugh in his voice. “But the real question is: where should I do it?”

You shrug. “You choose. Any place.” You are his anyway, there’s no use hiding it. This will just show it to everyone else.

Sungchan lifts an eyebrow up at you. “Any place?” You nod and his mouth opens in a sly smile. “Okay. How about your ass?”

“I’m okay with that.”

“No, no. I think the back of your thighs will be better,” he says, already slipping out of you and flipping you over so your stomach is pressed on the bed. “Those dickheads at the gym keep looking at them when you’re doing squats. They need to know you’re taken.”

You full on laugh, your shoulders shaking with the force of it as you feel him crouch down, first pressing kisses on your ass cheeks to then move his mouth to your left thigh to pinch the flesh with his teeth.

Despite it hurting a little bit, you smile through it all. He’s a goner for you just as much as you are for him. You’re meant for each other and that’s what matters. Even if it comes with some little bites.

If you liked this work, consider sharing your thoughts with me on the comments or my ask box. thanks for reading! 🧡

[ladypups]

Slasher’s reaction to their S/O being Goth🦇 || Slashers x fem! reader

꒰ ୨୧ Slashers include: Charles Lee Ray/Chucky, Tiffany Valentine, Freddy Krueger, Amanda Young

꒰ ୨୧ Warnings: hints of nsfw, no smut

—

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky: He absolutely loves you being goth, I mean adores it. He loves your style and the way you dress, he just doesn’t fully admit it. He hints at it, but never fully says it. He loves how mysterious you are, but also how gentle you are. When you guys first started dating, he would stay at your apartment a lot to hide from the cops. When he saw your apartment for the first time, he was intrigued. You being goth resulted in more affection and persuasion. If you have piercings (especially on your face/lips) he loves to feel them when you two make out. If you have long nails, he loves when they claw into his skin.

Tiffany Valentine: Very similar to Chucky, she just admits that she likes you being goth. You two love to share clothes and she loves seeing you in her outfits. She loves when you wear chokers, especially ones with spikes. If you have an interest in dolls, she is attracted to you even more. She loves to put makeup on you, and she’s let you pierce her a couple times. When you two first started going on dates, instead of her picking you up, or the other way around, she’d love to prep you and do your hair. She shows her love to you through actions. She loves you so much I can’t even explain it.

Freddy Krueger: You were walking through the halls of the boiler room when you first met. He appeared behind you and took a liking to your appearance. He liked your messy hair in that ponytail, he liked your piercings, your smeared makeup you forgot to take off the night prior, he immediately found a liking to you. He couldn’t kill you. One of his knives played with the bottom hem of your crop top.(imagine you’re wearing a crop top with a skull on it, and skull pajama pants) When you two officially started dating, he would get you little things he know you liked. He would either put them in the room he made for the two of you, or let you take them to the real world.

Amanda Young: You might’ve fell first, but she fell 10x HARDER. She loves to make things for you, it’s her love language. She’s made traps named after you, she’s made gifts for you. When she first made the pig mask, she let you put makeup and piercings on it. Actually for the robe she used some of your old clothes and sewed them together to make the robe. She’s just so adorable. She loves feeling your piercings when you kiss/touch her. She’s just a little hopeless romantic.

—————

tysm for reading! This is my first real Drabble and I think it turned out really well! If anyone wants to suggest anything feel free too!

[aiiviiloo]

Two Truths One Lie

Smosh: Shayne Topp x Reader

WC: 1.8K

Warnings: A little bit of suggestive(looks n feelings), use of she/her pronouns, Y/N is one of the ogs in smosh, slight fluff if u squint, Y/N is kinda famous

It was a warm day in California when the team chose to make Y/n and Shayne film the video, which they both silently thanked them for. Getting sprayed with ice cold water wouldn't be as harmful with the weather.

"Are you ready to get sprayed to death?" Shayne joked while bumping his shoulder into Y/n who turned to smirk at him.

Y/n only ignored his comment and walked into the studio where Courtney, Amanda and Angela hung out in their stools beside the "game" table.

It was a little intimidating, the guns leaning against the table while a crew member filled them both up with water.

Shayne followed after Y/n into the studio and walked with her to the sound manager who mic'ed them up, connecting their microphone while the two of them clipped the small black electronics onto their clothes.

As they finished with that, the studio manager once again called everyone to their places, checking so that everyone were feeling alright.

Y/n sat down across Shayne, Courtney to her left as she looked down at the cards in front of her.

Before any filming session, Y/n always felt a shock of adrenaline pulse through her veins, as if she felt like any second, her body would explode - which it never did of course.

"And.. Action!" Emily, the director, shouted. The studio turned quiet before Shayne turned to the camera with a dramatic sigh escaping his mouth.

"Welcome, everyone, to another round of Two Truths One Lie. In this game, me and an opponent tell three statements, where two of those statements are truths and the other one a lie." Shayne explained, still in his dramatic voice.

"If my opponent, who is Y/n today, say hi Y/n." He continued

"Hello." Y/n answered shortly, smiling into the camera.

"As I said, if my opponent fails to find my lie, I get to spray her with water, but if she succesfully finds my lie, I get sprayed by her with water."

"I think I put on the wrong clothes for this." Y/n stated, looking down at her outfit, which was a knitted sweater with some grey baggy jeans.

"Atleast you look cute!" Courtney added, making Y/n and Shayne chuckle.

Amanda coughed, glaring at the pair in front of her.

"Oh, right! This is our three watchers. Courtney, Amanda and Angela." Shayne introduced the three women, making them mutter things with annoyance.

"I'm so happy to have gathered boygenius with us today." Y/n joked, making the whole studio laugh at her joke.

"Anyway, would you like to go first?" Shayne asked Y/n who nodded, clearing her throat dramatically.

"Here are my statements. First one. I have been in a relationship with Jeanette McCurdy for an event." Y/n began, making Amanda chuckle a short laugh at the first statement.

"I have kissed Tom Cruise, on the mouth." Shayne's eyes widened at this, not at all ready for this.

"I was in a marching band in Japan when I was fifteen." Y/n said her last statement with a small smile while Shayne stared at Y/n mysteriously, trying to figure out which one is the truth.

"Okay, first statement. When and where was it?" Shayne asked as Y/n put her card down.

"It was at an event, some Nickelodeon event. I don't remember the year but I remember we were talking and I asked if for a joke we should fake a relationship for the whole event and she agreed. Really nice person she is!" Y/n explained while keeping a straight face.

Shayne nodded.

"And the next one? That seems like such a lie but if it's not I'm so jealous of you." He joked, making the trio beside him chuckle.

"Okay, so I got booked into an actual move not too long ago, no clue who was my love interest or anything, but when I arrived to the "love" scenes, there Tom Cruise was. I think it was about seven years ago or so."

The studio was quiet, everyone actually intrigued to hear the whole story, even the trio sat quietly.

"Wow, and do you remember the kiss?" Shayne sarcastically asked, but he actually wanted to know.

"I do, it was a great kiss. I was a nervous wreck but he was so calm and collected and just a nice co-worker to work with." Y/n answered with a soft smile on her face.

"And the third one?"

"As many of you know, I've lived in Japan with my family for a part of my life. And some of you know I also play the clarinet, well played, and I wanted to play it in a marching band so I joined one." Y/n explained, quite easily.

"I think I know the lie." Shayne said quickly with a smirk while Y/n only sat with a soft smile on her face.

"It's the second one, the Tom Cruise one." He continued and Y/n sighed, looking down at the table.

But she quickly grabbed the water gun and sprayed Shayne in the chest with the ice cold water.

"WHAT!?!?!?" Angela shouted while Shayne sat in shock.

"You've actually kissed Tom Cruise?" He asked, eyes wide as he laughed in just pure shock.

"I have! It was some movie, I don't remember but I was the love-interest." Y/n chuckled while putting her gun down, letting it lean against the table.

"Wait so which one was the lie?" Shayne asked, making Y/n smile.

"The marching band one. I moved to Japan when I was fifteen but joined the marching band when I was eightteen because they had an age restriction." Y/n told the group who all made 'aah' noises as an understanding.

"Alright, so my turn. I have eaten a whole tarantula on camera. I have eaten a bull penis on camera. I have eaten surströmming on camera." Shayne said quickly.

"Okay, I know one of these 100%. You did eat a tarantula. It was on Mythical Kitchen. I was there with you but I chickened out and never ate the spider but you did." Y/n thought outloud, looking directly into Shayne's eyes.

Shayne chuckled and smiled, knowing that Y/n was right with that, they both were there.

"Ah, shit. I wasn't on the filming day of the surströmming. I remember it was you and Noah and his two brothers. Shit." Y/n muttered and sighed.

"I think the bull penis one is the lie. You must've eaten some piece of surströmming that day, your fingers smelt like shit after that I remember that." She claimed, making Shayne laugh.

"Are you sure?" Shayne checked with her and she nodded.

"I'm sorry Y/n, but you are very wrong-"

"Shit! No- No please, spare me!" Y/n began shouting as she watched Shayne pull the gun up from his side.

"LET ME TAKE OFF MY SWEATER FIRST PLEASE!" She continued yelling as everyone else laughed their asses off at her reaction.

Shayne let her take her sweater off and so she did.

Y/n unclipped her mic and pulled her sweater off, her t-shirt slightly following with but with the help of Courtney who held the shirt down, she threw the sweater away to the side.

While all of this was happening, Shayne felt his ears turn slightly pink at the sight of Y/n's stomach and a small part of her ribcage.

What was going on with him? He thought, blinking his quiet suggestive thoughts away.

"Okay, I'm ready." Y/n said, now only in a tanktop.

Shayne chuckled and slowly pumped the water gun, making Y/n nervous.

"Shayne! Just do i-" Y/n got interrupted by Shayne shooting water against her stomach, making Y/n jerk in shock.

The studio began laughing in the scene that just happened.

"OW! MY SIX-PACK!" Y/n joked, making the studio continue laughing, even Shayne laughed, his eyes closed as he did.

The studio calmed down and Y/n and Shayne continued the game, Shayne absolutely failing the game, getting completely drenched in water.

After a shot of water was shot against Shayne, Angela began joking about something, distracting the studio and audience of what happened anywhere else.

Y/n took the chance to look at Shayne who focused on Angela.

He had a big part of his t-shirt completely soaked, and Y/n kinda thanked herself for that, because now she could see Shayne's chest.

Her eyes drifted down a little before looking back up, but now on Angela who was still talking about who know's what.

Now it was Shayne's turn to look at Y/n, her tanktop had only gotten a little soaked, only showing some parts of her bra underneath.

Shayne had to control his breathing, his hands tightly knitted together underneath the tablecloth as he felt his ears turn pink again. He had felt Y/n's stare, he wasn't gullible, and damn did it make him feel good.

They continued the game after Angela's rant and finally it ended, ending with Y/n winning quite naturally.

The cameras turned off and the pair of them walked up to the sound manager who they handed their microphones to before walking out from the studio.

"That was fun, really." Y/n began, smiling softly at Shayne who chuckled, looking down at himself.

"Yeah, sure, maybe for you." He sighed dramatically, making Y/n grin while pushing Shayne's shoulder jokingly.

"Oh, shit, I forgot my sweater. Let me go get it." Y/n remembered, running back into the studio and getting the sweater.

As she picked up her sweater, Courtney walked up to her with a small smile.

"I saw you looking at him." She blurted out, making Y/n look up at her with slight wide eyes.

"I-"

"And he was looking at you too, y'know." Courtney said while smirking as she watched Y/n's cheeks turn slightly pink.

"Okay, fine. I was looking at him, he looked hot okay." Y/n sighed, confessing to Courtney who chuckled.

"Don't tell me that, tell it to him." She said while nodding to someone behind Y/n, who turned around to see Shayne stand there with slightly tinted ears.

"Oh-" Y/n said before trying to stutter something about how she did think like that and that it was okay if he didn't feel the same.

"Y/n, would you like to go out with me?" Shayne interrupted her rambling, making her stop in her tracks.

"What?" She asked, flabbergasted.

"Would you like to go out with me?" Shayne asked again, now with a smile on his face.

"Ye-Yeah, that'd be nice." Y/n said, now also with a grin on her face as she watched Shayne nod and walk away.

"Finally! I've waited for that since you both started working here." Courtney groaned, walking away from Y/n who stood there, excitement filling her entire body.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Horror characters with a s/o who does ballet

I did ballet when I was like 4 before I was diagnosed with ADHD and I did enjoy it but I didn't keep doing it. I've just been thinking about ballet lately and I decided to write about it.

Includes: Hannibal Lecter, Asa Emory, Michael Myers, Vincent Sinclair, and Amanda Young

Warnings: GN reader mostly but one bullet on each section mentions a male reader, internalized homophobia?, regular homophobia, mentions of murder, mentions of saw traps in Amanda's section, mentions of torture, vague cannibalism in Hannibal's section

Hannibal Lecter

When you tell him you do ballet he's immediately interested. Hannibal enjoys the finer things in life and ballet is something he's happy to indulge in.

He's rich so he's happy to help pay for whatever you need. Ballet shoes can be very expensive but he's willing to help you pay for them.

Ballet is physically demanding and he's happy to help you sooth the aches and pains on your body. Will help you with ice baths or rubbing your aching muscles.

Will go to all of your shows, even if you're barely in it. He doesn't care he's going to be there to watch you dance, and will bring you flowers after every performance.

If you practice at home he's there to help you, giving his advice as someone who's been to many opera and ballet shows.

He probably has a lot of hair products for his hair because he's kind of a diva. So if you need hair gel or hairspray for your costume he's got your back.

If you're a man and someone makes fun of you for doing ballet they're getting eaten. I think he'd do something clever like a tongue dish or he poses the body in some kind of ballet pose.

Asa Emory

Like Hannibal Asa loves the finer things in life. He's pretty rich considering he has all these torture devices and a hotel. So you having a more expensive job/hobby is not a big deal to him.

He will try to sneak in bug related things into things you can customize. If you're doing a dance related to bugs in any way he's asking you all about it and will honestly want to make things as accurate as possible.

Will want to watch you practice because he just likes seeing you in dance and shift into different positions. He's always interested in human limits both physical and mental so seeing you stretch your body while dancing is interesting to him.

Like I said, Asa is rich and he doesn't have a problem buying you things for your job/hobby. If you're allowed to customize parts of your practice clothes or shoes he'll try to get it bug related in some kind of way.

He might take inspiration from your dancing and will pose victims or put them in traps that are ballet related.

He loves classical music so listening to you practicing with music over and over again isn't a problem to him. He's put himself through worse so listening to his partners dance music over and over again isn't that bad.

Just like Hannibal, if you're a man and someone makes fun of you for doing ballet he's going to put them through a lot of torture, like more than normal. He was a little unsure about you being a man and doing ballet but he got over it quickly.

Michael Myers

He's heard of ballet but the extent of his knowledge on it is just that it's 'fancy dancing'. Once he sees you dancing, because when he's not killing he's watching you, he's pretty interested in it. As interested as Michael can be in something.

He likes how graceful you look while dancing. He could watch you for hours, just sitting still and watching you dancing. He'll probably touch and feel your ballet shoes when you're not using them.

If you ask him to help you break in your shoes and explain to him you just hit them on the floor he's very willing to help you. You'll have to watch him to make sure he doesn't genuinely ruin them.

He's confused about how you're getting bruises and hurt feet when you're "just dancing" but his concern isn't really noticeable aside from him leaving out ice packs for you.

If you're doing a dance where you're being more 'physical' with your dancing partner he's going to be jealous about it. You'll have to make it up to him with lots of candy and avoiding other men.

If you're a man and you do ballet he doesn't see why that's something weird. He's been locked up inside a mental hospital for 16 years so he doesn't really understand gender roles.

But if someone makes you feel back for doing ballet as a man and Michael hears about it, he's killing them for you.

Vincent Sinclair

He is so interested in you doing ballet. He wants to hear all about the type of ballet you do and how long you've been doing it. If you memorized any dances he wants you to do them for him.

I have a feeling that Vincent can sew to some degree. Like he can take old clothes and customize them. He'll probably make/find you clothes you can practice in and maybe even costumes.

He listens to classical/opera music already so if you want to practice or perform for him it's really no problem at all to him.

Finding you actual ballet shoes might be an issue. He'd suggest making you some but quickly realize he can't. He'll bribe/guilt Bo into going out and getting you ballet shoes.

Will probably make some figures into ballet dancers because you're one. His art is going to include a lot more ballet themes in it. Will love to sketch you in different outfits and poses.

Anything remotely ballet themed from a victim is going to you. If Vincent sees some clothes or an item you'd like or could use in your dancing he'll tell Bo to be careful with that item when he kills them, or he'll kill the victim himself.

If you're a guy and a victim makes fun of you for doing ballet they're getting turned into a figure alive like Wayne was. If his brothers make fun of you cough cough Bo he'll defend you and probably bring up something about them. "You do ballet Y/N? Didn't take you for a pansy." (Vincent signing) "Remember your emo phase when you wore eyeliner every day?"

Amanda Young

She wanted to do ballet as a kid but she probably wasn't very good at it and her parents took her out. So when she hears you do ballet she wants to hear all about it and will ask if you can teach her some.

Loves any kind of ballet outfits, especially if it's in darker colors and adores seeing you in practice clothes or costumes for shows.

Will brag to Hoffman about how talented her partner is at ballet and how shes so lucky to have you as a partner.

She'll probably take inspiration from the dance you're currently practicing or the process of breaking in your shoes when she's making a new trap for someone.

Loves watching you practice too. She finds the movements so satisfying and the music to be calming. If you practice at home she'll probably stretch with you.

Will love to help you do your hair and or makeup for a performance. She likes participating in your interests and helping you get ready is something she's happy to do.

If you're a man and someone makes fun of you for doing ballet she's finding a reason to put them in a trap. Hoffman will probably make fun of you doing ballet if you're a man so she'll get back at him in another way.

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Forever and Always

So first I owe an apology to @autumntheblogger who requested a sequel to Our Family. It has taken me a while to write this and be happy with it. But it is finally here and I really hope it was worth the wait.

I recommend reading Our Family first, which is linked below but you don't have to.

Warnings: None. Just good old fluff.

Masterlist

Prompt List

Our Family

You smiled softly as Rafael whined low in his throat as you slowly moved out from under his arm that was wrapped tightly around your waist. You wiggled out of bed looking back at him as you sat up, his forehead was wrinkled as he reached out to you in his sleep. You huffed out a laugh putting your pillow in his reach before leaning over and pressing a kiss to the furrow in his eyebrows. It was a similar event every time you got up before him, it was rather adorable, although a little bit amusing at the same time.

You swapped your shirt for the one of his that was sitting at the end of the bed as always before you padded down the hallway, checking in on Noah before continuing to the kitchen. Rafael had had a long night, a difficulty in a case causing him to stay later than he normally did these days, so you wanted to cook him a nice breakfast before he had to head into the office.

You were half way through cooking waffles and some egg and bacon when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and lips on the back on your neck before Rafael buried his head in the crook of your neck.

“You could have slept a little longer babe,” you whispered.

“Hmm, I could have, but you weren’t there,” Rafael whispered pressing kisses up and down your neck. “There is no point sleeping in if you aren’t with you.”

“Sook,” you teased.

“You are so mean to me, Carino,” Rafael whined, you could feel him pouting. “Don’t make me tell Liv on you.”

“Ooh, bringing out the big guns huh?” you asked lightly running your fingers along his forearm. “You know she would be on my side right?”

“Fine, I’ll tell Finn,”

“Also on my side,” you turned your head enough to kiss him on the temple before you pulled out of his arms to plate up the rest of the food. “Could you get our son?”

“I can go get our son,” Rafael grinned sneaking in one last kiss before going to get Noah. It didn’t matter how much time had passed since you had told him that Noah was his son as much as he was yours, he would always get so happy to refer to Noah as “his” or “our” son. You shook your head a little as you brought the plates to the table, being sure to grab Noah’s sippy cup with his juice and Rafael’s cup of coffee. You could hear him coming back down the hall, humming softly to Noah.

“So, what is the plan today?” he asked, getting Noah settled.

“Hm, gotta drop Noah off at day care, then I have a meeting with a client that’s probably going to take all day,” you sighed, already feeling the headache that this day will induce.

“Wait, is this that guy that keeps changing his mind?” Rafael asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, after we agree, he calls and then says he doesn’t want it that way anymore, it is doing my head in,”

“Next time he tries, tell him your boyfriend is a lawyer,” Rafael grinned. “A verbal agreement is a legally binding contract.”

“Mhm, my boss will love it if I subtly imply that I will sue one of our top paying clients,” you roll your eyes.

“Well, the option is there,” he placed a kiss on your forehead as he stood up. “Thanks for breakfast I gotta get into the office.”

“Have a good day!” you were too focused on helping Noah eat to see the look on Rafael’s face. His hand went into the pocket of his pants and stayed there as he headed out the door, looking back once to the scene at the kitchen table before closing the door.

---

Rafael stood outside the station one hand in his pocket fiddling with the box that he had been carrying around for months, since you had told him that he was Noah’s father. He had been standing there for a lot longer than he ever wanted to admit.

“Counsellor?” Rafael jumped at the sound of Nick’s voice behind him. “Are you going in?”

“Yes, need to speak with Liv about the new case you lot have dumped on me,” Rafael cleared his throat attempting to cover up how nervous he was.

“We haven’t given you a new case,” Nick raised his eyebrow as he followed Rafael inside. “And you’re jumpier than normal, it’s too early for you to have had enough caffeine to make you like this considering your tolerance.”

“I hate detectives,” Rafael muttered.

“You’re nervous,” it was not a question as Nick’s eyes traced the movement of Rafael’s in his pocket. “Congrats.”

“Not a word…I haven’t even told Liv yet,” Rafael pointed his finger at Nick. “And I want to ask for Liv’s blessing…and Finns.”

“My lips are sealed,” Nick promised as they entered the bull pin.

“Why is one of my detectives telling you that his lips are sealed?” Liv questioned, her eyes narrowing as she catalogued every movement Rafael made before her eyes zeroed in on his hand still in his pocket. “My office. Finn, join us.” Her tone left no room for argument.  

“Good luck,” Amanda winked as both men followed Olivia into her office. Rafael felt his heart pick up speed, he knew Liv would notice straight away, but he had not considered her tone to be that specific one, it was her Lieutenant voice. And the way Finn walked ahead of him was the same way he walked into the interrogation room.

Olivia closed the door behind the two of them before she walked around her desk, Finn taking his spot right beside her as they both stared Rafael down. It was rare for him to be on the receiving end of those looks, at the same time. He now knew how a suspect felt when Liv and Finn would team up. Rafael felt sweat start to build on his forehead as he took a deep breath.

“I am aware that the both of you already know what I want to ask,”

“Well, you aren’t very subtle Counsellor,” Finn mused. “You’re more wired than I have ever seen you.”

“Have I mentioned lately how I hate detectives?” Rafael asked trying to buy himself some more time. He had originally had it all planned out but he found himself struggling to remember everything he had practiced.

“Quit stalling Rafa,” Liv teased, which helped Rafael relax a little. “I wanna hear what you have to say.”

“I wanted to ask for your blessing to ask y/n to marry me,” Rafael forced out. “I love her with my entire heart and soul. I could not imagine my life without her. Or without Noah, the two of them have changed my life for the better. I mean I have a life now, before I wasn’t really living but y/n and Noah brought light and love to my life. They helped me to live again.”

Olivia’s lips twitched as she struggled to keep her face neutral, she didn’t want to break too early but her eyes gave away everything. They brightened with happiness with every new word that left Rafael’s mouth. She knew the two of them would be a forever thing from the moment they started seeing each other but to hear how much her sister had impacted Rafael’s life was another thing entirely, especially when she already knew how much he had impacted her life as well. Finn on the other hand had no issue with holding strong. He needed to rib the ADA a little.

“Not our permission?” Finn raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that normally what people ask for? Not blessing?”

“My carino is her own person and I don’t believe she would appreciate if I asked for someone else’s permission to marry her as if she was property,” Rafael pointed out. “But to have the blessing of her sister, who raised her and your blessing Finn, who has been such an important person in her life. That would mean a lot to me, to know that the two of you trust her heart to me.”

“Well,” Liv said her voice a little heavy and if Rafael peered a little closer he could have sworn that he saw some tears forming.

“I got questions,” Finn demanded, still not giving in but his demeanour had softened. Rafael fought so hard to not roll his eyes but Olivia did not.

“Of course you do, one would forget that I was the one who raised her,” Liv muttered.

“Alright, Finn,” Rafael sighed before squaring his shoulders. “What questions?”

“When are you planning to pop the question?”

“This Saturday, it’s the anniversary of when we met,”

“I am trying very hard to restrain myself right now,” Olivia muttered as she stood up and walked around to stand in-front of Rafael, she pulled him into a tight hug which he returned in kind. “I whole heartedly give you my blessing to marry my sister. I know you will continue to make her happy and that you will continue to be an amazing father to Noah.”

Finn kept his arms crossed as he moved to stand in-front of Rafael, his eyes narrowed. He stared Rafael down but Rafael did not waver as he held the detective’s stare. He had never wavered before and he definitely wasn’t about to start now. But the stare down didn’t last long before Finn’s tough shell broke, his lips pulling back into a smile as he threw his arms out wide.

“Well, that’s all I wanted to know,” Finn grinned. “Was just pulling your leg, there was no way I wasn’t giving you my blessing to marry Little Benson, she would have throttled me.”

“Good to know that is the main reason,” Rafael muttered shaking his head.

“I mean of course I think you’re good for her as well,” Finn shrugged. “But she’s a Benson.”

“Little unsure if I should feel complimented or insulted by what that implies,” Olivia narrowed her eyes at Finn before deciding it wasn’t worth it. “I want all the details. Now.”

“Of course you do,” Rafael had resigned himself to this the moment he bought the ring.  

--

“I was thinking, this Saturday I could take little Noah for an aunty/nephew sleep over, it’s been a while,” Liv stated as the two of you were getting your nails done. It was a little earlier than normal but Liv had insisted on changing your appointments to Friday instead of the Saturday two weeks from now. And Liv had insisted on choosing your nails, and for you to choose hers. You narrowed her eyes at your sister, tilting her head to the side before you looked at the calendar on the wall and saw the date.

“He’s proposing,” you didn’t even ask, you just stated.

“…damnnit,” Liv cursed. “I really thought I could have gotten this past you.”

“You might be the detective but I was raised by you,” you shrugged. “Plus, these nails are like fancy nails. Not to mention you and Amanda taking me shopping yesterday and insisting that I try on really pretty dresses and to get the one that is almost the exact shade of Rafael’s eyes. And tomorrow is the anniversary of when we first met.”

“I now understand why Rafael always says he hates detectives,” Olivia laughed shaking her head. “I didn’t realise you had picked so much up from me.”

“Yeah well,” you just shrugged again. “You were always my hero Liv, of course I wanted to be able to do what you do. Plus you did drill into me to be observant and then Finn even started teaching me recon shit.”

“Part of me wants to offer you a job but the other part of me definitely wants you to stay as far away from police work as possible,”

“As if I would take it anyway,” you rolled your eyes. “No offense but I like my job too much and I get paid really well. Plus I don’t get shot at so.”

“Yeah, yeah alright,” Liv grinned. “So, I get Noah on Saturday, and Sunday until lunch, then his dad gets him while, you and I go out for dinner and you tell me everything.”

“Liv, I don’t think you’re going to want to know everything,” you giggled, your heart fluttering in excitement. You may have been nonchalant when you stated what this was all about but truthfully you were nervous. Even knowing what Rafael had planned you had no idea how he was going to do it.

“You are a terror,” Liv rolled her eyes.

“Little sister’s prerogative,” you shrugged. “But yes, I agree, you can have Noah up until Sunday lunch, which we will all have together, and then you and I will have a dinner in? I doubt I will be up for going out.”

The two amazing women who always did yours and Liv’s nails both giggled at that.

“I remember when my husband proposed to me,” the one doing Liv’s nails sighed. “We didn’t leave our room for days.”

“Liv showed me the dress you will be wearing,” your technician grinned. “These nails will go beautifully with it.”

Liv had chosen a golden base for your nails, that simmered gently, with a pale green swirling pattern overlaying it. The pale green was almost a perfect match for your dress and Rafael’s eyes. You smiled softly holding your left hand up in-front of you, imagining the ring that will be sitting on your ring finger tomorrow night.

“Have you seen the ring?” you asked.

“I have,” Liv nodded. “It’s gorgeous and very you. Rafael did a good job choosing it. And that is all you get from me.”

You pouted a little but knew you would rather have that as a surprise. Since you technically ruined the surprise that he was proposing to you in the first place.  

---

“Come on! We want to see,” Amanda sang as she held Noah on her hip, with Oliva beside her.

You stood in-front of the mirror in Olivia’s bedroom, brushing down the front of your dress. Amanda had volunteered to help do your make-up when Liv mentioned that you had worked out what was happening tonight, and she had done an amazing job. It was a beautiful subtle look that managed to empathise your cheekbones and bring focus to your eyes. Olivia had curled your hair and pinned the sides up, so nothing obscured your face.

“Alright, alright! I swear you are more excited than I am,” you laughed walking into the lounge room, blushing at the looks on the two women’s faces. “Is it too much? Will he know that I know?”

“You look beautiful,” Liv whispered her eyes tearing up a little.

“I don’t think he will care,” Amanda smiled. “Not when he sees you. What do you think little man?”

Noah cooed clapping his hands and reaching out for you. You allowed him to latch onto one of your fingers as your stepped forward to place a soft kiss against his chubby little cheek.

“I hope you have fun with your aunties tonight,” you smiled.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Liv wrapped an arm around your waist holding you to her side. “Manda, Noah and I will have lot’s of fun tonight.”

“Though not as much fun as you,” Amanda wiggled her eyebrows. “He’ll be here any minute.”

You giggled, holding in the small squeal that wanted to escape when a knock sounded on the door.

“Make that any second,” Liv squeezed you before going to let the man of the hour in.

“Breathe,” Amanda whispered kissing you on the cheek as Rafael walked into view and you felt your air in your lungs leave you in a rush. He was wearing your favourite suit, which thankfully complimented your dress perfectly.

“Carino,” Rafael breathed. “You take my breathe from me.”

“Well, you two need to get going,” Liv started pushing the two of you towards the door when you failed to say anything in response. You couldn’t, you found for once you had no words. This was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with and tonight was the start of the next chapter of it.

---

“Rafael, this place is beautiful,” you whispered as the hostess led you to your table. Which was in a quiet corner, lit candles decorated it, and a bottle of expansive red wine was breathing next to a vase filled with peonies and lilac. Your favourite flowers.

“Tonight is a special night,” Rafael pressed a kiss to your temple as he helped you into your chair.

“The anniversary of our first date?” you asked tilting your head to the side as he poured glasses of wine.

“Exactly,” Rafael grinned, you could see the nerves that he hid behind that smile. You reached across the table and grabbed his hand squeezing it once, as a gentle smile pulled at your lips.

“You always spoil me Rafi,” you pulled your hand away to focus on the menu in-front of you. “You look especially handsome tonight. Amanda had to remind me to breathe.”

“Turn about is fair play,” Rafael teased. “Everyday I must remind myself to breathe, when I wake up with you in my arms, when you smile at me I feel the world stop.”

You felt your heart squeeze as your stomach fluttered before it stopped, contentment settling over your body as Rafael pulled a box out of his pocket.

“I was going to wait until dessert but I found I can’t,” Rafael chuckled, as he slid the box to the middle of the table. “Carino, everyday that we have been together has made my life better, happier and brighter. The day you told me you loved me I knew that I would know no better happiness, until you told me I was Noah’s father. You have given me a home, a family. I know that your love has made me a better man and I promise you that everyday I will be sure to be deserving of your love, of your heart and of our son. You are my heart, my soul and the very breathe in my lungs. I wish to wake with you in my arms every day. Carino, my love, will you marry me?”

Rafael opened the box as you tried to stop the tears that fell down your cheeks. Nestled in blue fabric was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. It was also far from a traditional engagement ring but it showed that Rafael knew you. For you never wanted a traditional ring. It was a black band twisted around itself, with lines of silver and gold entwined along it. Three gems sat in the band, the middle one held above the others by the twisting of the band, wrapping securely by the gold and silver. It took you a moment to realise what the gems represented, and when you did your heart ached with love. They were your birthstones, Noah’s, Rafael’s and yours.

“Rafi,” you breathed holding out your left hand for Rafael, he lifted the ring from the box holding it just over your ring finger before he slowly slid it down. “Yes, always.”

[softanddarkk]

I see a lot of smut around Amanda being the dominant figure in the bedroom - but hear me out

You’re gonna tell me THIS woman is ALWAYS ON TOP?!

And look, I agree that she probably takes the controlling role with her into the bedroom with her partner - but I feel like Mandy in love is just something entirely detached from this ideal.

That need for control over a situation comes from her being contantly abused by the figures in her life, whether that be physically or emotionally.

If Mandy finds herself with someone she truly trusts - home girls just working overtime trying to impress.

Cannonly Amanda loves praise; you tell her you like something one time and she will be putting the hours in to make you feel that way again.

Maybe it’s going to take a little while to wear away at all those walls she’s no doubt put up since her experience with John and just her life in general; but once Amanda is comfortable she’s consistent, maybe even obsessive.

Yer okay so maybe she’s on top; but it’s because you are telling her how good she makes you feel.

She’s getting off on your getting off, she’s there to serve.

Only once you’ve came a sufficient amount of times will she let you touch her, because although she LOVES you touching her, she wants to make sure you’re absolutely satisfied first.

Don’t get me wrong though, the way you touch her is something she’s dreamed about her whole life and never will feel worthy of.

Mandy has done a lot of bad things, she’s self aware to the point of self deprication.

She is fully aware that being with you, romantically or sexually, is the closest she will ever get to heaven.

She sure has a hard time accepting any compliment you give her because, quite frankly, she doesn’t feel like she has earned it.

But to be loved in such a way is something so obscure and beautiful to Amanda that she will stare at you sometimes with such raw admiration it makes your heart stop.

[violentdelightsproductions]

Amanda Harper - I can show you what you truly fear

Fear Manipulation: User can sense and manipulate the dread, fear, horror and terror, of themselves, people, animals and other creatures, whether by increasing, decreasing, causing or otherwise channeling fear, even manifesting the emotional energy to physical level. They can cause others to fear even the most harmless of things to the point of becoming catatonic.

"Fear is Control. Control is fear. Once you have someone's deepest fears at your fingertips, they are mere puppets on a string, ready to dance on the master's whim at any cost."

Everybody is afraid of someting.....

Find our new Halloween videos and edits here! Our Halloween edits throughout the years!

[lambiewrites]

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Camping w/ Saw Characters

Characters included: John Kramer, Amanda Young, Mark Hoffman, Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight. Plus, me and Y/N (because I said so)

Warnings: none, except mentions of smoking, getting hurt?? Idk

Notes: Reader is gender neutral and everything is platonic. Even our relationships with each character (unless otherwise stated in other fics I may write)

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John Kramer: I personally feel like John really enjoys the outdoors and seeing as though we see him chilling on a park bench, sketching his traps 24/7, I feel like he’d really enjoy it. Loves the peacefulness except when everyone (Amanda and Mark) are fighting. Definitely fishing at 7am. Struggling because he may or may not have to sleep on the ground. We definitely bought peepaw as many blankets and sleeping bags as possible. He gets cold so easily, bless his heart. Wants to enjoy the hiking trails but, can’t because he’s either in his wheelchair at this point or it’s just a struggle for him in general. (Mad at me because I complained about my knee the entire time even though I’m perfectly fine.) definitely giving Y/N a lesson on the outdoors.

Lawerence Gordon: Didn’t really want to come but he was sorta forced to. Definitely the group’s medic. Lecturing everyone on where they should and shouldn’t step. Pissed because Adam keeps smoking even in the non smoking areas like the woods where there’s been really bad wildfires. Adam does not care though. Dr.Gordon helped pitch everyone’s tent and tried to tell me and Y/N how we could easily pitch our tents but we didn’t listen. He actively carries the first aid kit literally everywhere. This man also had to pull me out of the fishing creek because I slipped on some rocks and nearly fell in. (He and Adam are sharing a tent shhhh ❤️)

Amanda Young: A little less than thrilled to be here. It’s cold and wet. Plus she had better things to do. Constantly at John’s side making sure he’s not too cold and that he’s enjoying himself. Pitched her own tent and probably is sleeping in it by herself unless Y/N wants to share it. Stays up all night worrying about peepaw and maybe other campers (or bears) Definitely one to tell the darkest, scariest, goriest story at the campfire. Is she fighting with Mark the entire time? Oh yeah probably. Is she yelling at me the entire time? Yes. Is Y/N telling her about their nature knowledge (if that’s your hyperfixations) Yes. Amanda definitely wants to go home but she’s sticking it out for peepaw.

Mark Hoffman: (My favorite camping headcannon to write lmao) Complaining about pitching the tents because no one else can apparently. Honestly would rather die than be out here but, he’s making the most of it. Yes, we do have his ass grilling, why wouldn’t we? It’s his job now. Did we make him make the fire? We did actually. Watched me fall off the rocks and into the creek and did not care. Thought it was funny, wished I had drown. Y/N is the only one who he isn’t mad at (congratulations!). Yet. Secretly enjoys the camping but won’t say anything about it. Probably sleeping in a tent by himself. (Maybe Y/N is sharing it with him?) I have decided that this man physically cannot stand me and that’s okay.

Adam Stanheight: This man has been chain smoking since we got here. Obviously taking as many pictures as he physically can. OF EVERYTHING!!! Tried to help Lawerence set up the tent but got bored. Almost started a forest fire but felt instantly bad. Definitely got a lecture from it. Sits at the fire and makes s’mores. Watched me burn myself trying to roast marshmallows and laughed at me (I deserved it, trust me). Loves the outdoors actually and he’s thrilled to be there. Like a little squirrel running around with his camera ❤️😭✌🏻 Y/N is forcing him to take cute little selfies of them with trees and mountains. We’re hanging up the Polaroids all over the place. We’re gonna look so aesthetic, trust me xoxo

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Notes: This was quickly made and probably shitty but, just bare with me lol this is my first one and I love it. I think it’s funny. A lot of this was pulled from my actual camping trip at the beginning of the month. I hope y’all enjoyed and feel free to request stuff! I love you guys!

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[wandaslittlelove]

Take me Home

Prompt: Threesome (Kinktober day 13) Pairing: Angela giarratana x Amanda lehan-canto x Reader Warnings: SMUT

This is unfinished.

This was definitely not what you were expecting by going clubbing but you couldn’t say you were complaining. You were on the dance floor with two girls both Brunette one taller and one shorter. The taller of the two who you learned was Amanda stood behind you gripping your hips as she pulled you into her while the shorter one Angela stood in front of you effectively trapping you between them.

You aren’t exactly sure when you left with them but eventually you all found yourselves in front of an elevator.

The second you three stepped into the elevator their hands were on you. Amanda was pressing you up against the elevator wall while Angela was titling your head to kiss you. Just as hands began roaming the elevatored dinged and the doors opened. Angela grabbed your hand and dragged you down the hallway to their apartment.

Inside the apartment you were quickly brought to a bed with Angela hovering over you as she left small but harsh kisses and bites on your neck.

“Angela share” Amanda said as she tried pushing the shorter girl off of you.

“You’ve had her all night ‘manda” Angela whines as Amanda pulls her off. Amanda only smiles at her and pulls her into a kiss. When the two pull away they are both breathing heavily. Then they turn to look at you.

“Its okay. Because she’s ours now.”

[aperrywilliams]

If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?

This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.

Part 2

-----

Spencer's POV

-----

There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them. 

It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.

And this time, it's Hotch's fault.

Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.

"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."

No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.

But me? I wasn't excited at all.

Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.

Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.

Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.

But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.

"Boy genius! Over here!"

Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.

"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.

"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.

"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.

"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"

Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.

I wince, remembering the incident in question.

Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.

"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.

I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-

"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.

That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.

Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.

Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.

But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.

"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.

"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.

"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.

"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.

"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.

"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"

I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.

"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"

I'm screwed.

I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.

As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.

"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."

How the fuck can he do that?!

The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?

That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.

"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.

"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.

And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.

He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.

"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.

Why is she looking at me from head to toe?

Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.

"I'm Spencer," I wave.

Short and precise.

"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.

As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.

"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.

Oh, Lord. Help me.

I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.

"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.

"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.

Ashley's smile suggests it does.

"It is. Are you having fun?"

No.

"Yes! A lot! Are you?"

"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.

Is she flirting with me?

I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.

A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.

"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.

My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.

"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

Okay. That sounds very straightforward.

I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.

Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.

I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.

"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"

Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.

As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.

Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.

Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.

When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.

As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.

"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."

Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.

"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."

I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.

Fuck. She is choking.

I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.

At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.

Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.

Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.

A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.

Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.

"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"

Ironically, I'm speechless now.

What is wrong with talking about oysters?

"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.

The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.

"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-" 

She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"

"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.

"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.

I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this? 

Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.

I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"

The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.

I don't even know how I should feel.

I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.

With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.

"Don't say it," I cut him off.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.

Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.

"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.

"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."

I look at him in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"

"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"

I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.

"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."

It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.

"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.

"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.

Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around. 

If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.

My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.

I know her. I've seen her before.

Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.

My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.

Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking. 

After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.

With that in mind, I approach her.

She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.

She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.

It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago. 

And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.

Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.

My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.

"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.

"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."

She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.

"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."

Now, it's my turn to frown.

"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"

Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.

"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"

Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.

"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"

She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.

"It's just the right thing to do."

She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.

"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."

Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.

"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "

It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.

"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.

"Spencer," I supply. She hums.

"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.

I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.

Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.

"Uh, well. Thank you again..."

I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.

"(Y/N)," she says.

"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."

Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.

"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."

I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.

"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.

"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."

A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers." 

I chuckle at her choice of words.

Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.

"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.

"Uh, are you from Quantico?"

"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."

I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"

"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.

"Wow. The one and only BAU."

"You know us?"

"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."

She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.

"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."

(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.

"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.

"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."

"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."

She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.

"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.

Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.

"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here tonight?"

My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?

"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.

"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."

If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now. 

She assumes my awe as discomfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."

"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.

"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"

An amused laugh leaves her lips.

"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing. 

I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question."

I didn't, although the answer is simple.

"My boss made me."

(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.

"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"

Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.

"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."

I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.

She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.

"That's why are you here tonight, too?"

My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.

"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"

(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.

"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.

"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.

"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."

I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.

"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."

I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.

"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.

"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.

"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.

"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."

"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.

"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.

"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."

Spencer Reid. Is that you? 

I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.

"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.

"I won't. I promise."

-

Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.

The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.

She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.

Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.

It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.

We sit on a bench facing each other.

A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.

"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.

"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."

I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.

"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"

Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.

"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"

I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.

"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"

She chuckles, nodding.

"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.

(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could. 

That's how she met her boyfriend.

"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."

I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.

"What happened?"

"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."

A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.

"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."

(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.

"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."

(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.

"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.

"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.

"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."

Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.

"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.

"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."

"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.

"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."

Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.

She bitterly chuckles.

"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."

Spencer, do something.

"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."

And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.

"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.

"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.

"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.

I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.

"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.

"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.

"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."

I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.

Thank you, BAU.

"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.

"Non yet," I grin.

Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.

The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.

I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.

When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.

"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.

"Of course. It's the less I could do."

And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.

"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.

I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.

"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.

"You are welcome."

I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.

"See you around?"

(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.

"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.

"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.

I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.

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Next -> Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

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A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity

[lemondytart]

Inboxes can wait! I give these five fandom options!

As you can see, I'm really pushing y/n out here buuuuut it's fun (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

*I should mention I'm still doing everything else but in order

[kingsoowolves]

what comes after | jsc

pairing: college fwb!sungchan x fem!reader word count: 21.4k

author’s note: soooo, I’m back to writing after a long break. this is my first riize fic and Sungchan practically hauled this monster out of my insides until it became 21k. I wrote most of this while listening to sabrina carpenter’s new album and i think sharpest tool, juno and lie to girls fit really well with the theme of this work. english is not my first language, so please be kind if you're going to point out any mistakes. I hope you guys like this.

contents: smut. some fluff. angst, angst & angst (specially towards the end). switch!reader and switch!sungchan. sex with a condom, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving). pet names. ass man!sungchan. reader has thoughts on family trauma and self-hatred. random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. sungchan is pretty much an asshole in the end. no HEA.

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you'd like

You feel pathetic. With a raincoat covered in water splatters and standing on your favorite white sneakers – now mud covered and wet – in front of your situationship’s apartment after ringing the doorbell, you truly feel like an idiot.

It’s been over two weeks since he last texted you and here you are, waiting for him to open his door after calling him on a whim, asking for permission to come and see him. But it was a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester and when you finished your last exam of the day and the rain started pouring down while you were on the bus on your way home, your heart made a last-minute decision to ring him up.

So now here you are, feeling pathetic.

Surprisingly, despite the radio silence for the last fortnight, the door opens quickly to reveal a worried Sungchan with a fresh and fluffy towel in his hands as he urges you inside, hand clasping over yours to pull you away from the cold and into the warmth of his home.

He closes the door with his free hand and his eyes instantly fall onto your body to inspect the damage caused by the storm, the dirt and the finals. You can’t help but feel heat under his gaze, your limbs already growing hot after being in his presence for two seconds. It’s your body's natural response to him since the day you met.

“Why didn’t you call me after you finished your exam?” are his first words to you as his hands take your bag and your raincoat off of your arms, both items falling on the floor around your ankles. “I would’ve picked you up.”

The way he says it almost makes you want to apologize for not doing it, but, in all honesty, you don’t quite believe he would’ve picked you up. Two weeks of not talking is a considerable amount of time, after all. So you bite your tongue and reply with the second thing that comes on your head instead.

“Didn’t even think about it. The rain started after I took the bus,” you say, feeling him wrap you in the towel he brought, hands pressing on your arms to make it absorb the rainwater covering you.

He stays silent as he dries you up, expertly and swiftly moving the towel over the areas of your body that were most affected by the downpour, his furrowed eyebrows showing his concentration. You have to actively stop yourself from reaching up to smooth them over, your hands itching to touch him. But in just fifteen seconds your upper half is dried and he squats down to inspect your legs.

He stops with his right hand on your left calf, looking up at you once he sees the mud covering your jeans.

“Shit, you’re a mess,” he sighs, a small chuckle coming out of his throat, too. “You’re gonna have to take a shower.”

“Oh,” you say, mind still understanding his request while your eyes focus on his. After a beat, you realize that you feel kind of insecure of showering in his place when you don’t know where you both stand on your relationship, so you shake your head. “I can go home to shower and come back later, if it’s okay with you.”

He shakes his head back at you. “No, it’s not. That’d be dumb,” he says, standing up in his full height and making you change your gaze from looking down to looking up at him. You feel a pang in your chest at the rejection, thinking he’s saying it would be stupid to come back to him after, but he smooths one hand over your shoulder and clarifies. “Why would you do that when there’s a perfectly good bathroom here you can use?”

You blink at him, your head again very slow in keeping up with his words. Maybe it’s because it’s been a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester. Maybe it’s because your last brain cell was burned while taking your international law exam. Maybe it’s being close with him again after some time, seeing his deep brown eyes, smelling his cologne and standing in his apartment that makes you so dull. Maybe it’s every one of those reasons. At this moment, you think you’re more pathetic than ever.

And you’re pretty sure Sungchan thinks you are, too, because his features crease again as he looks at you, taking a step back and tugging on your hand to come with him. “Come on. I’ll put your clothes in the washer while you shower.”

You quickly step on the heels of your shoes to take them off and follow him down the hallway to the small bathroom by the end of it. Sungchan fetches you a sealed bar of soap from the cabinet under the sink and a new fluffy towel from his dresser. Then, he waits outside of the bathroom for you to strip off your clothes and hand him every piece – hoodie, shirt, pants, undergarments and socks – through the half open door. He smiles at you for only a second before turning on his heels to take the clothes to the washer, saying you can take your time.

You leave the door leaning on its threshold, not quite closed, because, first of all, Sungchan has seen you naked multiple times and there’s no reason to be shy now, and second of all, you half expect him to come join you. So, you step in the shower, the white tiles cold against your toes as you turn the tap to burning hot just how you like it.

It’s relaxing having the heated water hitting your naked skin after being out in the cold with wet clothes for minutes that felt like years. You indulge yourself in it, sighing and letting your limbs loose, facing down and resting the top of your head against the tiles under the head of the shower, moving your body to fully stand under the water to feel it hit your shoulders as your mind travels back to Sungchan. It’s hard to over analyze his every move, touch and word when he’s just a few steps from you. But you’re an expert on doing that in every possible scenario by now. So, you recall every second of your five-minute interaction with him since you stepped inside his place, trying to look for signs of anything. You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. Although you’ve seen him being comfortable and goofy around friends, he often keeps to himself and can even be described as a shy person most of the days. Even though his playful side comes up occasionally when he’s with you, most of the time you are met with silence that makes you conjecture a million theories that are never proven.

Plus, you’re achingly jumbled today and the truth is you always feel foolish around him. Like your strong attraction to him makes you dim-witted, tongue-tied and incoherent. Just like the first time you ever saw him.

The first time you ever saw him was in your freshman year in the second semester at college, in your Ethics class. He’s a STEM major, which obviously meant he was taking it for an extra credit, but you didn’t know that yet when you walked into the east building expecting to see a class filled with law students and came across the tall and hot math nerd.

One moment, you are hurriedly walking up the steps to your seat as the lecture hall fills with scholars and your professor takes his place in front of the board. In the next one, you’re bumping into a desk and sending a collection of papers and one very pricey scientific calculator to fall on the ground with loud bangs and blasts. You’re desperate as you squat down and rest your books on the following step to search for the batteries and the hood of the calculator that flew around during your mishap. And as your hand finds the last battery missing, another hand clasps over it to retrieve the item and you glance up to meet Sungchan’s eyes. You both stand up at the same time, in which you notice how tall he is, your senses taking in his soft hair, strong grip and big eyes surrounded by his glasses’ frame. And then you flinch, taking your hand back from his and muttering a small hushed apology before walking the last steps to your desk and avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the lesson.

When class is dismissed, despite feeling extremely embarrassed, you gather up your courage and walk down to his desk to apologize profusely, saying how deeply bad you’re feeling and asking if his calculator is still working or if you have to work out a plan to pay for a new one for him.

“Don’t worry. It’s working fine,” he says, the sound of his voice sending a crazy shiver up your spine you never felt before. The first one of many to come. “But if you’re feeling deeply bad about it, you can take me out for dinner.”

You blink at him. The first one of many dim-witted moments to come in his presence. And he chuckles, fingers brushing over your elbow as he steps back from his desk and maneuvers you fully in front of him. You feel your organs internally jolting, like you’ve been struck by an electric shock or like you were numb and dead until now and have suddenly been relieved by a crazy scientist. And it’s all because of his small touch.

“I’m kidding,” he announces after you fail to reply, removing his hand from you, his eyes looking down and the tips of his ears tinting red as he says it. “We’re fine. There’s no need to apologize anymore.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” you reply, finally getting out of your head and finding your voice again after being revived by his fingertips. “Really. Most people wouldn’t be this chill.”

He walks around you with one hand on the strap of his backpack and steps down two levels of the stairs, becoming almost eye-level with you when he raises an eyebrow up and says, “Guess I’m not like most people.”

And then he turns his back on you, finishing the final steps of the lecture hall and getting out as you stupidly blink at his back.

It’s ridiculous how much you become obsessed with him after that.

Even though you consider yourself smart enough to not develop a crush on your first year of college, you walk head first into that booby trap. Very quickly and happily, too. 

It takes you a few days after your first meeting to learn that he’s actually a sophomore majoring in biological engineering, which didn’t help at all, because your social sciences brain couldn’t understand a thing about STEM. You also learn that he’s originally from another state and that, yes, he is in your Ethics class for an extra credit. From observing him in your shared class, you figure out he actually keeps to himself and likes to doodle on his textbook while the professor is talking. From a couple of shared acquaintances, you’re told that he’s shy, has never been seen with a partner before and doesn’t really attend parties. He’s a quiet one, they say. So much so that when you tell the person that he jokingly asked you out when you bumped into him, they don’t quite believe you.

As the weeks go by with no new interaction between you two except for the few stolen glances you throw his way during lessons, you start to think you imagined the whole thing. The electric buzz in your inner system when he touched you, the blush on his cheeks and ears, the way his eyes scanned you up and down and how his hand lingered a little too long on your arm… It could all just be a fleeting moment. Or only a natural response of your body from seeing and being close to such an attractive person. It certainly couldn’t mean anything special. You convince yourself that it meant nothing.

And then, the next day, you see him at a café close to campus. He’s there with a few close friends, chatting up and joking with each other, and you’re intrigued by how his smiles are easier to appear and how loud he can laugh in a candid and carefree moment. Also, you feel that same attraction again. That gut-punching-needing-to-be-closer magnetic pull between you two. It makes your nerves stand on end, goosebumps raise all over your body and your focus zero on him. It makes your skin prickle, like every atom of your body is buzzing in excitement and craving to be touched by him. And by the way Sungchan’s breath catches when his eyes meet yours and his posture changes, secretly eyeing you up and down every chance he gets, you can tell he feels it, too.

But it takes so long for you to be close to him. Being from strikingly different majors, you are almost never in the same parts of campus. Apart from the class you two met in and the programming class you took in your sophomore year – which you swore to your friends it was just because you were curious about it and not because of the student body attending to it – you mostly live different lives and stand out of each other's ways.

However, slowly and surely, your life becomes intertwined with his, like someone is playing puzzles with the pieces of you both. First, you become a TA to your environmental law Professor and end up tutoring one-on-one with his cousin Sungho. One day, while you are reviewing the paper he wrote for his class, Sungho tells you how Sungchan said “she’s super hot” when he told him you were his TA. You have to hide your smile behind the paper sheets in your hands to not give away that you’re attracted to him and scold Sungho for distracting you. That’s the first time you have actual evidence of Sungchan’s interest in you and it makes you smile for days.

Then, one of your friends starts hooking up with one of his friends and soon enough you are hanging out together in the same group. It helps you discover new things about him to obsess about. Like how he has the cutest mole on the corner of his upper lip you just need to drop a kiss on. And how his closest friends often call him Jinsu and how he always smiles when he hears it. You learn he’s a gym rat. And that he’s always down to help his peers whenever they have a problem and need a hand. It’s so freaking adorable.

And then, you both join in an extracurricular philosophy workshop you could’ve sworn you heard him ask Haneul, your friend, when was the final date of submission to in one of your hangouts. All these new opportunities to meet him frequently allow you to actually talk to him a few times, and soon enough you're sharing stories about your lives, joking and flirting with each other.

And that’s how, finally, in your junior year of college, your and Sungchan’s paths are unmistakably crossed and you become actual friends. So, when you surprisingly see him at a frat party, it’s natural for you to greet him while he plays Super Mario Bros with his friend Sohee. You strike a conversation about how you thought he didn’t like parties and Sungchan confirms it’s true and tells you how Sohee is a member of the fraternity and actually dragged him there. You laugh at his antics and then he jokes about something else so you smile again.

You want to sit next to him to keep your conversation going, but there’s a bunch of people littered across the room in various stages of drunkenness and practically no space left on the couch he’s on. Sungchan notices your eyes searching for a spot and makes as much room as he can, pulling you to sit on the arm of the sofa next to him. Then, he slings one arm around your body, keeping you steady and close to him, and rests his hand on your lap, his other hand joining from your opposite side with the video game controller. While he fixes his grip on the controller to keep playing, his knuckles graze your jeans clad thighs and you realize that you’re trapped around his arms for the time being.

It makes you instantly go rigid, his sudden closeness already making you dizzy and short of breath. And then, like it’s an afterthought of his, Sungchan leans on your side and looks up at you, his eyes carefully watching your reaction as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You purse your lips together and nod even though the thumping of your heart is so loud in your ears you’re not sure you heard him correctly. “Yeah.”

He nods back at you, a close-lipped smile appearing on his lips as he focuses back on the game playing on the TV. You have to concentrate on keeping your breaths steady as the side of his face brushes your arms, his hair soft and his stubble rough on your skin. You have to bite on your lower lip to keep yourself from sighing when his hands press on your thighs or on your lower stomach, controller lying in your lap as he waits for the game to load. Only after a while you feel comfortable enough to sit back against the cushions and let your hand wander to his shoulders, trembling fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt because your hormones are in a frenzy inside of you.

“You having fun?” He asks after they finish off a match on the game, hot breath falling over your arm and sending an electrical current on your body.

“Yeah. Until now, at least,” you reply, dangling your feet under you to give you something to focus on that it’s not him.

“Wanna have more fun?” He asks, and there’s an unmistakable glint in his eye that sends butterflies flying around in your stomach.

“Like what?” You reply, purposely leaning into the obvious sinful intentions laced in his words.

“We can get out of here,” he says then, fingers twitching the hem of your shirt and brushing on your skin, eyes scanning over your features and looking for any signs that you’re uncomfortable by his actions or words. He licks his lips when he notices how your eyes drop to his mouth and moves his hand to play with a strand of your hair before finishing off his proposition. “Have a drink somewhere more private… If you want.”

You know that the drink is an excuse for something else and that somewhere more private is actually his house. But you’ve been wanting this for so long that you have no desire to play it cool or pretend you don’t want this.

“Sure,” is all you reply, accepting whatever fate has in store for you now.

When Sungchan gets up from the couch and says goodbyes to his friends, he grabs your hand for you two to leave together, checking your eyes one last time to be sure you’re willing to do this just as much as him. You smile at him and that seems to be enough to placate his worries, because he smiles back and pushes you to follow through. You know you’ll kiss him as you make your way down the stairs of the frat house, one hand still gripping Sungchan’s and the other texting your friends to let them know you’re leaving with him. You know you’ll at least make out when he shields your side, protecting you from any unsteady drunk that may trip over you as you try to reach the door out of the house. And you’re pretty sure you’ll fuck as you both wait on the sidewalk for the Uber he asked for, his hand intertwined with yours as he hums along with the music from the party.

Still, you pretend like you’re naïve and clueless just for the mystery still hanging in the air.

Once the car pulls up on the curb, Sungchan leads you inside and enters after. He still holds your hand, resting it against his thigh as you take the left seat of the car and he sits back on the right one. The middle seat between you both is vacant and none of you make a move to sit closer to one another. You can cut the tension with a knife as soon as the car moves and the music from the party fades away. Slowly, he starts to play with your hand, rubbing and grabbing at your knuckles and you hold your breath. A moment later, your palm is up on his lap as he spreads your fingers open, his nails softly grazing the length of each and every one of them. He chuckles when the action makes you shiver and you hide your face with your free hand from embarrassment, turning away to look out the window. But then he changes places, splaying his fingers so you can rub your nails on the length of them now, and the same shudder that ran through you takes over Sungchan’s body, a cute blush appearing on his cheeks. Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. But in that moment, using just the palm of your hands, he chose to become vulnerable to you. His attitude says this is real and I feel it too. And you can’t be more grateful for him finally dropping the mysterious act and becoming transparent for once. At that, you smile and he intertwines his fingers with yours, clutching your hand fully.

You both stop watching your hands to finally look at one another. He sighs contentedly under your gaze and his free hand, the one that isn’t already attached to yours, finds its way on your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. His eyes slip to your lips and back to your eyes, searching for something. And only after you nod at him, he dives in, capturing your mouth on his and successfully filling the space in between your seats, leaning his body on yours.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, with so much energy you feel renewed. But you try not to think too much about it and instead feel it as you reciprocate the kiss, your lips and hands restless to show him just how much you felt for him for the past two years.

Sungchan keeps kissing you as the car stops its journey and the driver has to announce you arrived. He keeps kissing you while you walk up the steps of his building to find his apartment. He keeps kissing you whilst he punches the code on his door to get it open. He is still kissing you as you take off your shoes and coats by the hall and he’s leading you inside, whispering a breathless “this is my place” that drives you both into a fit of giggles. He kisses you inside his room, on his bed, as he takes off your clothes. He kisses you even when he puts on the condom and you jerk him off before he slides inside you. He keeps kissing you whilst you adjust to his size and ask him to move faster. When he’s fucking you, he kisses every part of you his lips can reach – your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose, your eyebrows, your neck, your ears, your shoulders, your clavicle and your boobs. You think his mouth never leaves your body, never fully at least, when he kisses your lips again whilst you tell him you’re so close. And as you cum, walls spasming and squeezing his cock to milk him dry from his own orgasm, he kisses you one more time.

After, when you’re lying in bed spent and he spoons you, he tells you how much he wanted to do this the first time you met. How you short-circuited his system and made him ask you out on that first moment and how serious he actually was about that. How he didn’t know what to do with himself when you didn’t reply. You chuckle at his confession and let the night wash away his words as you’re lulled to sleep by his warm skin on yours and his groggy soft voice. Before the slumber overtakes you, you swallow the words of your own confession that are burning on your tongue, thinking you’ll have the time to tell him later.

And that’s how you end up here, in a seven-month situationship with him, never quite speaking those words.

By now, it’s nuts the kind of power Sungchan holds over you. And you’re not sure he even knows it. Your relationship – if it even can be called that – is, for the most part, purely skin-on-skin raw sexual desire. Every time you are near Sungchan, you are energetic, your hormones kicking into high gear. For some time, you thought that after a few times sleeping together, you’d be able to get over it and get him out of your system. You hoped that your attraction to him would pass or that it would at least dim. That hooking up would get so common it’d turn boring, that you wouldn’t get the jitters around him anymore or that you’d run out of things to experience and new kinks to try out.

But every time you do it – every time, without fail – you finish it wanting more. You keep coming back to his arms and he keeps letting you in. The chemistry is still off the charts.

You love the way his calloused hands touch you and his soft lips kiss you. You’re crazy about how he has memorized all of your body parts and all of your ticks to make you scream with pleasure in bed. You’re obsessed with how he’s had your skin marked up with his fingers, teeth and scent. You’re captivated by his filthy words on your ear and his gentle hard thrusts against your hips. You’re fixated by how his dick fits perfectly inside you and how he knows how to make you cum in minutes. And you’re haunted by the fact that all of that combined might mean that you are in love with him.

Because sometimes, when you’re not fucking or going about all the stops that would lead you to fuck, you feel genuine deep attachment with him.

In a rare moment he laughs when you tell him how you argued with your crazy conservative forensics’ Professor in front of the Dean in a criminology symposium because he dared to assume asexual women are frigid. Or he lets you lay your head on his chest as he tells you how he and his roommate Shotaro became friends. Or he places a piece of your hair over your ear while you eat dinner together at the pizza place near your place. Or you belt out early 2000’s music together on his beat-up Kia Sephia 1993 while you drive around town. Or you tell him about wanting to change your major to Literature, that you never planned to take Law in the first place, and he encourages you to do what you really want. Or you both stay up late sharing your fears and uncertainties about life after college. Or he pulls you into his arms, holding you closer and tightly against him because your body drifted away from him while sleeping. Or he tells you how he loves your caresses as you pet his hair to lull him back to sleep while the rising sun infiltrates through his room curtains. Or he says he remembered you during the day because he saw your favorite flower blossoming near the building to his calculus class. Or he not so casually asks who was the guy you were talking too close with the last time he saw you on campus, jealousy shining in his eyes. Or he reads the latest philosophy book you recommended and gives you an in-depth review of all the points he found important. Or he buys you a cupcake when you meet up a day after your birthday and acts nonchalant, tips of his ear becoming red, as you ask him what it is for. Or he sends you a Spotify playlist of an artist he thinks you’d really like the sound. Or he asks how your grandmother is doing a few days after you came back from a quick trip home because she was sick.

In those rare moments, you hold yourself together to not bawl your eyes out because of his kind gestures. It’s hard not feeling sentimental being treated with the minimal tenderness when you grew up in a house with strict rules and no space for feelings. Of course, there were the frequent occasions where your parents would scream their lungs out at each other saying the nastiest stuff you ever heard, but, other than that, feelings were bottled up and could only come out in screeches if you were an adult. Your parents turned their maximum effort to make sure food was on the table and you and your siblings were upstanding citizens, and as much as you’re grateful for that, sometimes you resent them for never truly making you feel seen and appreciated.

Maybe that’s the reason why when Sungchan shows you care and desire, you mistake it for love. Because, in those sacred moments in the dead of the night when he shares a part of him with you, something he never told or showed before, you want to crawl out of your skin and into his to become a part of him. That’s when you think – you feel – like you love him. And you feel like maybe he loves you, too.

The fact that he speaks in a gentle and low tone as opposed to the wails you used to listen to as a child is just an added bonus.

After fifteen minutes, you finally close the water tap and the stream of your daydream about Sungchan to step out of the shower. As you dab your body up with a towel, you find out Sungchan has left a change of his clothes for you on the sink while your mind was far away. You quickly dry yourself off and put on the clothes, a pair of his boxers and a set of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt that retains the heat from the hot water on your body and makes you feel like a human again and not a dirty wet popsicle. Then you wipe a hand on the mirror over the sink to get rid of the steam on it and start brushing your hair back with your fingers to redo your ponytail. Once you’re satisfied, you put the towel up to dry and leave the bathroom, walking the small path to Sungchan’s room. You can’t help but notice that Shotaro’s room, that is right beside Sungchan’s, has its door open and lights out, with no signs of Shotaro inside, which means you and Sungchan have the house alone to yourselves. A wicked smile makes its way to your face as you think of all the noise you can make without a care in the world. But you soon tamper your wild thoughts and breath in before knocking on Sungchan’s closed door, only opening it after you hear his permission to come inside.

His bedroom is small and you’ve been in here so many times you already know it by heart. A twin bed by the window, some basic white curtains, a nightstand, a small desk with a chair by the foot of the bed, a dresser just in front of it and that’s it. It’s a tiny room in a tiny apartment, not much different than yours, and you suppose there’s not much else a college student can afford in a building off-campus.

When you come inside, Sungchan is sitting on his chair, laptop open as he types away. And as you close the door again, he turns on his seat to welcome you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, eyeing you up and down. “Did the clothes fit okay?”

You look down at the attire that so clearly belongs to him but fits you well enough because even though he’s taller than you, you’re more full-figured than him. “Yeah. Thanks for lending me them. And for letting me shower.”

“No problem. I already turned on the dryer for your clothes, they should be done in a minute. I also wiped down your raincoat, sneakers and your bag. Shoes are still in the hall. Raincoat and backpack are right there,” he tells you, pointing at a spot behind you where your belongings are gathered, right near his dresser.

Your eyes follow his direction to recognize where your things are and then you look back to him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as you lean back on the wall with hands bound behind your back. Even though you wanted to meet him, you feel misplaced now that you’re here. Like the time apart has made you become strangers to one another. You don’t know what to expect anymore. Sungchan has been nothing but welcoming until now, but you keep fearfully anticipating his every move and word, waiting to be rejected, sure that your presence is annoying him and he’ll ask you to leave at any minute.

Contrarily to all of your fears, Sungchan puts you out of your misery as he extends a hand and beckons you to come closer. When you step in his general direction, he takes your hand in his and draws you in so you’re standing in between his legs. With him still seated in his chair, you’re taller than him, and you like the leverage of looking down on him that it gives you. But instead of meeting his eyes with confidence, you focus your gaze on a spot behind his head as you feel his hands wrapping around your waist and you place your own on his shoulders.

It's only when Sungchan moves one hand to your face and tips your chin back that you really look at him. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that match yours and a white t-shirt that hugs his form and shows his biceps, his fringe styled in a way that leaves a heart-shaped spot on his forehead that you want to drop a kiss on. His reading glasses frame his eyes, the lenses lightly scratched. It’s completely unfair how absolutely ravishing he looks in simple clothing and so little styling.

“Hi there,” he whispers when your eyes stop wandering over his features and finally focus on his face, the smile on his lips making you feel warm all over.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers picking at the fabric of his shirt over his chest for lack of something better to do. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best.”

“Of course, princess,” he says, hand moving to the nape of your neck to pull your face closer. He pecks your lips two times before pulling back. You instantly melt against him, containing the urge to follow his mouth with yours. “I wouldn’t be okay with you standing in those wet cold clothes. Plus, you look cute wearing mine, too.”

You smile shyly at him, your cheeks burning because of the compliment and he nuzzles his nose against yours, muttering a “So damn cute,” before pressing his lips on yours again.

You sigh against him, mouth parting to immediately receive his tongue. It’s slow and sweet, you both getting acquainted with each other again, one of his hands around your waist to press you against his front, and the other one rubbing circles on your nape. Your own hands wrap around his neck and pull at the strands of his hair, earning a soft groan from him. He tastes like mint toothpaste and heaven, and you’re embarrassed by how much you missed this. His closeness, his smell, his touch, his kiss. All of it. All of him. You want him all the time.

“Finals week has been treating you badly, doll?” He asks when you both pull back for air and you groan at his question, hanging your head low and resting your forehead on his right shoulder. He chuckles at you.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” you whimper, the press of his lips on your neck making your voice airy.

He nods and softly pushes your head back so he can look at you again. “Fine, let’s not talk about it. But I still have an essay due tomorrow that I’m trying to finish today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to spend much time with you right now.”

“Oh, okay,” you reply. “You want me to go?”

He shakes his head and looks at you pointedly, muzzling another one of your attempts to flee. “Please stay. I’ll order some food if you’re hungry and you can eat while I work.”

You scrunch your nose at the offer with a hand over your stomach. “I actually feel nauseous after that exam.”

He laughs at you and starts humming, making the most adorable thinking face while he tries to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you leaving.

“I can charge my phone and watch TikTok videos on your bed while you work? If the sound doesn’t bother you. I’ll make sure the volume is really low.” You suggest. “And after, I don’t know…” You trail off, feeling warm all over again because you actually know exactly what comes after. What comes after is you getting impaled by his dick and writhing in pleasure. And you hope that what comes after is you both finally confessing your feelings for each other, too. But that’s just a hope.

And also, it’s not even the time to think about that, so you shake your head to scare those thoughts away and give him another option, “I can go back home after a while. I actually need to sleep early because I have another exam in the third period tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” he replies, nodding his head and pulling you in for another long and sweet kiss.

That is interrupted by the familiar pinging sound of a message coming through his laptop iMessage app and your eyes instinctively follow it to check what it is. But Sungchan is quicker than you, scrambling up and turning his torso to reach for the mouse and close the notification before you have the chance to see it. It’s a small moment that doesn’t quite alarm you because you know Sungchan is a private person and there’s no way he’d let you look through his texts. Still, as he turns back to drop a last kiss on your lips and you walk away to search for your phone in your bag, something about it nags at the back of your head.

With your phone and charger in hand and the TikTok app open, you make yourself comfortable on his bed. As your brain forgets all about international laws and politics and gets a serotonin boost from puppies and kittens’ videos, Sungchan pulls your feet from the bed to lay them on his lap as he remains seated on his chair. When he’s clicking away on the mouse or scrolling through his screen to read something, he rests his free hand on your ankles and starts massaging the soles of your feet. The domesticity of it all tugs on your heart and you can’t help but smile as you watch his back. Soon enough, the warmth of his room, his kneading on your feet and the comfy feeling get to you and you start to feel sleepy.

So, you connect your charger plug on the outlet behind Sungchan’s bedside table and hook it up on your phone, letting the device rest on the table as you promise Sungchan you’re just going to close your eyes for a few minutes. Then, you end up falling asleep in just a few seconds.

You feel the warmth first. A source of heat enveloping you in a strong and sturdy body. Then, you feel the gentleness, the soft touch on your hair, the slide of a thumb under your ear that pulls you from your slumber and into the arms of reality.

As you blink your eyes open, you’re met with Sungchan’s deep light brown eyes, illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table. The atmosphere is comfortable. You’re warm and cozy laying on Sungchan’s twin bed with his arms surrounding you. The rain is still falling outside, although now it has turned into a light drizzle. There’s flimsy wind coming in through the small opening of the window that cools the air and prevents everything from becoming too hot. But you like the heat and think you could be easily lured back to sleep because of it.

“Hi there,” Sungchan mutters before you have the chance to close your eyes again, his head resting on the same pillow as yours.

“Hi, Jinsu” you say groggily, rubbing a hand over your sleepy face. You notice how he smiles and his eyes glint at your use of his favorite nickname, and an emotion stirs deep inside you for seeing him so happy with something so simple. 

You get awkward for a moment thinking you must have mucus on your eyes and a bloated face right now, but Sungchan just keeps smiling at you and it’s enough to take your mind away from the embarrassment. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the nape of your neck as you adjust yourself over the sheets. “Sorry for waking you up. I was just getting comfortable to sleep,” he says. 

“S’okay.” You smile back at him, reaching over to caress his hair, your fingers threading through its strands. “For how long did I nap?”

“Two hours or so,” he says, sliding his hand down to your waist. “You snored, too.”

You give him a scoff, followed by a yawn that starts small and turns big. It makes you stretch your whole body, extending all of your limbs from your arms to your toes, cracking your knuckles and everything, and Sungchan gives you space to do so. When you’re finished, you turn on your back, getting comfortable again and closing your eyes briefly with a quiet hum.

“I should probably go, then,” you say with eyes still closed. It was about 7:30 p.m. when you settled in his bed, which means now it’s close to ten. If you want a quality sleep and to wake up on time tomorrow, you actually should get going. But Sungchan’s bed feels too comfy right now. Being in his arms is not bad either. 

You don’t see, but you can feel him scooting over to you, sheets rustling as he gets closer, his nose nuzzling yours and his hand fiddling with the bottom hem of your sweatshirt, your senses heightened by your drowsy mind and the lack of vision.

“You can stay a little while longer,” he replies with a playful tilt in his words, his fingers skimming over your belly button making you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to see the left side of his mouth popping up as he shamelessly presses his body on the side of yours. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you don’t?” you mumble, suddenly feeling the need to lower your voice with his lips so close to yours, eyes narrowing at his obvious naughty intentions. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Uh-huh, that’s me,” he finally leans in to give you a peck on the lips. “I’m sooo nice,” it’s the last thing he says before kissing you fully.

This kiss is heavy and intimate. His hand around your neck keeps you in place as he savors you, tongue entering your mouth. He strokes the back of your teeth, the roof of your mouth, the inside of your cheeks and your own tongue, groaning at whatever he finds there. His other hand grazes the skin of your waist tenderly in a way that may have made you think he’d treat you delicately if he wasn’t kissing you with so much fervor and energy. He takes whatever he wants from you until you pull away, already out of breath.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you tease, lips ghosting over his, and he smirks at you.

He moves his lips to your ear and whispers, “Yeah, but I’m all woken up now,” as his hand moves up and down your stomach, faintly caressing your skin in a way that makes your insides burn. He presses his pelvis on the side of your thigh and you feel his dick hardening while still being constrained inside his pants. “Can’t you feel it?”

You reply a faint yeah before he’s all over you again, mouth desperate on yours as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and bites, hands gripping your waist and body crowding you against the sheets. He’s consuming you whole and he wants more. And you give it to him. All of you. Honestly, at this point you’d give him whatever he asked.

“You don’t have exams tomorrow?” You ask in between kisses, breathless and shaky, the still sane part of your mind trying to estimate how much time you have together and what you’d be able to do with it.

Sungchan shakes his head slightly and kisses the corner of your mouth, putting a strand of your hair that’s fallen free from your ponytail behind your ear. “I’m finished with exams,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, then moves his lips to your earlobe, kissing there, too. “I have all the time in the world for you right now, princess.”

You want to kiss him again, but his head moves up, his nose sinking into your hair and deeply inhaling before pressing his lips on your hairline. “I missed the smell of your shampoo so much,” he says, eyes focusing back on your face as he slides his lips to your temple.

You sigh against him, his words making your heart flutter. Still, you can’t help but tease him when his eyes meet yours again. “Well, if you contacted me earlier, you wouldn’t have missed it,” you say, pouting at him, your hand bawling at his shirt as you finally show how upset the two weeks of radio silence made you feel.

Sungchan laughs at you and cradles his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone as he holds you close. “Oh, did you get mad I didn’t text you, princess?” He mutters, his eyes glinting while yours are sad. “You should’ve texted me, then.”

You keep pouting, making a dissatisfied noise with his reply. Then, you cast your eyes down to the collar of his shirt as you say, “I wanted you to talk to me first.”

Sungchan chuckles and closes his palm on your chin, tilting your head up so you have nowhere to look but into his eyes. “But you ended up calling me up either way, didn’t you?” He teases in a low gruff voice with dark eyes. His fingers press against the sides of your cheeks to pucker your lips for him and he drops four consecutives pecks on your mouth that have you sighing. “Sounded so cute on the phone, too, saying you needed to see me,” he finishes.

The mockery of his words falls hard on you, making you feel ashamed as he reminisces your exact words, directly pointing out the truth: that you were the one who pursued him and not the other way around. You whimper in discontent, your face contorting as you try to get away from his grip, but his hold on your chin tightens when you move. So you press your nails on his shoulders over his shirt, hoping the fabric gives away and your force is enough to draw blood, and look at him with hard eyes and anger on your face. “Sungchan, I don’t like-”

“Why don’t you just tell me you missed me, huh?” He asks, interrupting you and making you roll your eyes at him, a snappy reply on your tongue. “Because I missed you, princess. I really did.”

And just like that the anger fizzles out and the irritable words are gone from your brain. His confession makes you melt back against him, breath hitching and eyes going wide. You notice he’s still smirking, probably because he knows he got you right where he wanted. Teasing you nonstop for half a minute and then confessing he missed you just so he can get a reaction out of you. And you give it to him, falling on the trap just like he wanted. You always do.

“Did you really?” You ask, big eyes focusing on his lips and neck pushing forward, needing to hear his confirmation. If you were a pet, your ears would be up and alert, patiently waiting for your owner to assert his authority over you.

“I did,” he says, nodding his head and smoothing his hands over your features now, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “And did you miss me, princess?”

You nod before he’s even finished speaking. Knowing he missed you just how much you missed him fills you with urgency and you’re sure you have eager and wanton eyes as you grip on the back of his head and pull his face closer, focusing your gaze back on his as you sheepishly confess back, “I missed you, Jinsu.”

Sungchan’s smile slowly spreads across his lips as he hears and sees your words coming out of your lips. He pats on the top of your head briefly, like you really are his pet, and coos at you. “There you go, pretty girl.”

And then he’s pulling you in for a kiss again, his mouth devouring you whole as he creeps one hand under your head to support it and slides his other one to grasp at your hip.

He shifts on the bed, leaning over you with a leg in between yours, his grip tightening as your tongues meet. In no time you’re both breathing heavily, lips red, swollen and covered in spit as your hands weave through his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking and biting everywhere, and drives his hands up your stomach under your shirt, feeling the skin just under your boobs before his fingers enclose over one of them.

You sigh and crane your neck to the side as he keeps peppering kisses on your collar, his thumb now pressing against your nipple as it hardens over his ministrations, another moan flying free from your mouth. You try to match his pace, descending one hand to his stomach to pull up his t-shirt, your fingers grazing his abs.

He pulls away then, kneeling on the bed to remove his shirt and throw it on some corner of his room. You spend approximately two seconds kissing his lower stomach before he’s pulling your sweatshirt – his sweatshirt – over your head, too, and pouncing on you a minute later, his other knee also coming in between your legs as he latches his mouth around one boob, laying you back down.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you groan, your hands clamping on his hair again because he’s sucking on your nipple at just the perfect angle whilst his thigh presses on your crotch with just the ideal amount of friction to make you dizzy. You’re sure you're wet already and it’s not even been over ten minutes since you woke up.

“Missed these tits so much too, princess,” he says over your damp nipple, eyes focusing on yours and raising goosebumps all over you. It’s an incredibly lewd image. His glossy and pretty lips, coated on your saliva, telling you over your areola how much he missed your boobs. Yeah, you’ll probably be thinking about it for a long time, keeping this memory to your mind to use it specifically when you masturbate in the near future. Or you’ll be putting a video representation of it as the cause of your death on your grave when you’re buried. One of these two options, for sure.

He presses kisses all over the valley of your chest before sucking around the skin of your other boob. His tongue peeks out of his mouth to kitten lick at your nipple at the same time his blunt nails graze against the skin just under your belly button on your right side, and you fidget under him. It’s a weak spot he had memorized as soon as you started sleeping together and he tortures you with it every damn time you two fuck just to see you squirm.

“Desperate already?” He says as he rubs the same place over and over, his eyes watching your stomach contract with each caress.

“You’re such a douchebag,” you tell him.

“Why?” he kisses your nipple and focuses his eyes back on yours, stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Am I not making you feel good?”

“You fucking know why,” you respond, moving your hand to his wrist to stop his abuse of your weak spot and sliding his hand down to cup the place in between your thighs over your clothes. “And this is where your hand has to be to make me feel good.”

Sungchan laughs at that, pressing his hand harder on you and sucking on your boob one more time. His eyes and lips are glistening as he says, “So bossy. You’re lucky I like it.”

And then his mouth is claiming yours again while he sits up and his hands make quick work of yanking down your sweatpants and underwear – once again, his clothes – and throwing them away from you, making you lay back and bend your legs. Once he’s done, you move down the bed, sitting to grasp your fingers over the drawstring of his sweatpants, trying to loosen it so he can get just as naked as you are, but he moves his hips out of your reach just before you can finish it.

“I want to feel you, too,” you whine as he hovers over you, one hand pushing on your shoulder to reposition you the way he wants it, your back stretching against the covers again.

He smiles and drops a small peck on the corner of your mouth before moving his body down the bed, hands spreading open your thighs and lips pressing kisses on your belly and going down, down, down.

“In a minute, doll,” he says over your right knee, his hands now moving to the inside of your thighs, so close to where you most want him. “Have to make you feel good first, just like you asked.”

His mouth moves up now, lips sucking and bruising your thighs, tongue lavishing over your soft skin, one hand crossed on your waist to hold your body down and another pinching the supple flesh of your butt and thigh, pushing and pulling as he pleases and extending your torture so much more. You love it just as much as you hate it. It’s amazing how much he knows your body, how much he remembers all of your ticks just to use them against you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s him. He makes you feel this way. Always has. Probably always will.

You are about to beg for something more, the first letter of a please making its way out of your now dry lips. And then he’s parting your folds and kissing up your crotch, becoming face to face with your glistening cunt. He buries his nose just on the outer part of it and breathes in deeply for a moment, quite literally inhaling your scent, and you think he just has to be mad. There’s no way in hell he’s a sane person.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, his eyes meeting your wide ones when you press your elbows on the bedspread to support your upper body and watch what he’s doing. “Missed this sweet little pussy, too.” He slides his forefinger up your slit and rubs at your clit, making you shiver. “And she missed me, right, doll? Fucking dripping already. And all for me.”

“Holy shit, you’re crazy,” you moan, brushing his hair back as he keeps rubbing your clit, your hips wiggling with every complete circle he finishes, eyes never leaving his.

“And you love it,” he states and you can’t argue with that. And then he’s licking a wide strip up your pussy, his middle finger reaching down to find your entrance at the same time.

It would be ridiculous to get close to cumming just from that alone, but it’s been so long and you’ve been so pent up you already feel the characteristic churning deep in your stomach. Still, like always, Sungchan takes his time with you, massaging your entrance with his fingers, tongue finding that spot just under your clit that makes you see stars.

The seven months you’ve been doing this have been so full of sexual experiments that now he knows you prefer indirect stimulation rather than the direct on-the-nose approach. He knows you like to be eased into it, to slowly lose yourself to pleasure over getting quickly to your orgasm.

So, he keeps rubbing over your hole before putting his finger in, stroking your walls lazily as you moan softly, his tongue licking over the same spot over and over, oftentimes catching just the underside of your clit and making you swivel your hips trying to follow his lips.

“That’s it, doll. Doing so good for me,” he says as he speeds up his movements, joining another finger inside of your pussy and focusing on the image of your eyes closed, chest heaving and lips bitten. “Feels good?”

“Feels so good, Jinsu,” you reply, opening your glassy eyes to meet his, grabbing at his forearm that’s crossed over the front of your body. Sungchan is so focused on bringing you pleasure that the veins on his arms are popped up, so pretty you wish to run your tongue over each one. All of it just adds to the raw sexual tension lingering in the air.

“I love it when you call me that. You know just the way to drive me crazy, princess,” he groans, eyes never leaving yours as he moves his mouth to your clit again, now sucking harshly on it as his two fingers scissor you open.

Another thing you love about Sungchan is his dirty talk. You still don’t understand how he stays so silent and bashful most of the time and turns into another person in bed, becoming bold and forward. It’s not uncommon for him to be completely calm and collected when you’re in a friendly gather and then say the most obscene things while fucking you half an hour later, the shy persona thrown out the window. Sometimes he starts teasing you with texts, dirty looks or small touches even while you are out with friends. And the knowledge that he gets to be a completely different person just for you got you off one too many times.

You move your free hand to the back of his neck and push him more into your cunt. He gets the message and pulls your legs further apart, one hand going under your bum to support your lower half as you start bucking your hips into his face, sliding your elbows under you to arch your back while you’re searching for pleasure. He’s fucking you with his tongue so good right now you feel your sanity slipping away. The breeze coming from the window gives you goosebumps because of the contrast with the heat of your body, and your nipples stand hard as you whimper, hand pulling on the strands on Sungchan’s nape.

He groans against you, the vibration going straight to your heat and enveloping your whole body. When he pulls aways slightly, he keeps rubbing at your clit with his fingers.

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” He asks while resting his chin on your thigh and you moan, nodding desperately as you lift your head to look up into his glazed eyes. Words would fail you right now, so you do your best to convey your feelings through your actions, the hand on his forearm gripping him so hard he gives you his hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Do it, baby. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Over Sungchan’s eyes, you catch the way he’s rutting his hips on the bed, obviously looking for some kind of friction. The image shows that he’s just as turned on as you while eating you out and it makes you crazier. His shoulder blades and his back are tensed and you rest one foot over his shoulder just to feel the muscles moving under it, so fucking attractive. And when you focus back to his face, he’s panting, gaze never leaving yours as he dips his head again to suck hard on your clit, and that’s when you cum.

Your orgasm takes over your whole body and you shudder as Sungchan doesn’t stop, three of his fingers finding your hole again and pistoning inside you whilst you fall apart, his left cheek resting against your thigh and his eyes never leaving your pussy. You convulse around his hand and under his body, body going haywire while the intense pleasure overwhelms your senses.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. If you should keep your hands pressing against his nape and your hips lifting off in the air or if you should stop and take a breather. It all feels too fucking good it almost smothers you, but you don’t feel like stopping. Sungchan makes the decision for you then, choosing to keep his tongue out to taste you and his fingers curling on the spongy spot inside you that makes you writhe.

But suddenly it’s too much and you sit up to try to push him away with a hand on his forehead and clasp your other one over his wrist that is bended as he still guides his digits furiously inside you. Your legs try to close over his head, but he presses a hand firmly on the inside of your left thigh to keep them apart, his eyes determined as he meets yours again and pulls away slightly from your clit.

“Wait, I’m–“ You try to speak, but the word sensitive doesn’t come out as you feel your thighs trembling.

“I know, doll, I know,” he coos at you with pouty lips, still overstimulating you and enjoying every second of it, his eyes relaying fake empathy. “But you can give me one more, right?” You shake your head no with pleading eyes. Sungchan doesn’t budge. “Yes, you can. I believe in you. Gonna feel so good, too.”

You realize there’s no escaping this. You could use your safe word, but you don’t want to. Not when Sungchan is assertive and so good to you that it makes you feel obedient, keen to do everything in your power to make him feel good as well. So you bite your lip and nod your head at the same time you feel something change deep inside you. Your thighs that were trembling now spread open again and your pelvis starts chasing the feeling of his hand instead of avoiding it. Sungchan makes note of every new reaction, a sly smile appearing on his lips, and his eyes zero in on your cunt again. You relax your back enough to have your elbows hitting the sheets again, head falling back. Your hands weaken their grip on Sungchan’s wrist and head as he doubles down his efforts, fingers unwavering working to bring you to the edge. Soon enough, you feel the tightness in your belly, how it’s so steadfast you can’t help but let yourself fall into it. 

When you sob his name and curl your toes on his back, he looks at you with fierce eyes and one command on his moist lips.

“Cum,” he whispers, soft and yet harsh.

Just like that, the band snaps again and your walls spasm, gushing over Sungchan’s fingers. You arch your back off the bed, hips shooting up to feel everything he has left to give you, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

Like before, Sungchan keeps going, working you through it again and the lewd slippery sounds your cunt makes on his hand have you whimpering, nails scratching his wrist and eyes screwing shut to feel it all until it becomes too much again.

This time, when you weakly push at his forehead, Sungchan pulls back. His forearms support his body up as he hovers over you, lips trailing up your whole body as he kisses and sucks every part of you he can reach. “Such a good damn pussy,” he whispers just over the apex between your thighs. “And such a fucking pretty princess,” he says above your belly button. “Made you cum so good, right?” He questions after he sucks one of your nipples on his mouth again, and you paw at his head. “I could do this all night, doll,” he states before licking your other nipple. “And you’d let me, right?” He says before biting a mark on your clavicle.

When his lips come in contact with your own, you pant inside his mouth, trying to match his kisses even though you’re still gasping for air and with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You just loop your arms around his neck and let him kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue and feeling the heat creeping on your cheeks because of the vulgarity of it all.

He bites your bottom lip when you don’t give him an immediate answer and withdraws with it still between his teeth, digging harshly on your plush and hypersensitive skin until you hiss in pain. Only then he releases it. “Right?” He demands.

Your mind is still hazy and you’re still out of breath post two mind blowing orgasms, but you know better than to deny Sungchan when he’s feeling dominating. “Right,” you mutter in your most docile tone.

He smiles and swipes your cheek with his knuckles, thumb stroking on your abused lip before he presses another kiss on it. “Good girl.”

The praise goes straight to your system and you buzz in excitement, like you’re reawakening because of his words. Suddenly, you feel the urge to show him just how good of a girl you can be, how you can make him feel so good he might even forget his name.

You kiss him again and slip your hands down his body to feel his pecs, then his abs, until finally your fingers wrap around the imprint of his dick on his sweatpants. Sungchan hisses, head resting on the crook of your neck and shoulder, hips thrusting down on your hand.

“I need to suck you off,” you say, pushing him with a hand on his chest to make him sit up as you keep working his erection through his pants with your other hand.

Sungchan follows your directions, pulling your upper half up with him but keeping his arms tight around you, constricting you from moving any further. “If you do that right now, I’m gonna cum,” his whispers with eyes boring into yours, a silent plea in them.

You drop a peck on his lips and look at him with the same intensity as you reply. “Great. Then cum in my mouth.”

Just like that he weakens his hold of you and you’re able to slip from his arms to kneel on the floor, pulling on his waist for him to be in the position you want. Sungchan becomes compliant to your whims, just following your moves. Even though you never assigned each other fixed roles in bed, you are usually the one being pliable and manhandled, so it is a nice change to get him to obey your orders. He drops his legs over the side of the bed where you’re located and gives you enough space to shimmy your body in between them. This time he lets you pull at the string of his sweatpants to slacken it and lifts his hips when you pull down on the waistband of it, your hands removing his briefs, too. Both pieces of fabric pool around his ankles as you hold your head up and pull his face down for another kiss. He lets you kiss him while he gets rid of the clothes surrounding his calves, becoming hyper aware of your hands roaming over his body as his dick remains untouched.

Only when you pull back you get a good look at his cock, red, angry and leaking with precum. You lick your lips and keep rubbing your hands at Sungchan’s skin, and his eyes follow the way your right hand tweaks his nipples and your lips close around the space over his left knee.

“Please don’t tease right now, doll,” he says, voice whiny and eyes urgent as your hands start going down his stomach, your nails slightly scratching his skin. 

“Oh yeah? But I thought you liked teasing,” you say with a smirk before kissing his thigh. He opens his legs some more, opening up more space, and shuffles his pelvis closer to the side of the bed, leaning back on one arm. “Or are you that desperate already?”

He sneers at you repeating his earlier words back to him, but when you finally wrap your hand around the base of his dick, the smile is gone and he opens his mouth in a silent groan, brows furrowing together. Sungchan is so thick and heavy in your hand the tips of your fingers don’t touch your thumb as you grip him. Although his size never fails to impress you, you’re used to it by now, and you’re particularly fond of how much pleasure it brings you.

You just find it unfair how even his dick is pretty. Long and thick, mushroom tip with the same pink tinge of his lips and nipples, standing up with a slight curve that always digs so good on that spongy place inside of you. You move your hand up and down his shaft to smear his slick all over him. Your mouth waters at the sight and soon enough you’re pressing a kiss to his tip and watching him purr, thrusting his hips up to follow the feel of your lips when you move back.

“Stay still,” you command and he purses his lips together and nods. His forehead is already beaded with sweat and you love the image of it. You smile softly at him before you kitten-lick his tip, watching his mouth open to deliver quiets aahs and oohs while you tongue at his slit and the underside of his head.

After a while, you finally take him inside your mouth. His tip prods on your cheek as you suck his dick forcefully and that’s enough to make Sungchan groan, head lolling back. You back away again and he whines, lifting his face to look in your eyes again.

“I know, baby boy. So sensitive, right?” You blow air over his head and he fidgets, wiggling his hips slightly. God, he looks gorgeous surrendering himself for you like this. You’ll have to do this more in the near future.

You smile and run your tongue all around his head, teasing him one last time before enveloping your lips around him again, tongue stroking the underside of his cock. Sungchan grips a hand on your hair, threading the strands of your now lopsided and messy ponytail in between his fingers. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down for him, hand stroking the rest of his dick where you’re not able to cover with your mouth. He moans at you and you put another hand on his thigh for balance, breathing in deep through your nose and preparing to take him deeper. A second later you’re relaxing your throat as his dick invades that space, too, concentrating on keeping your breath regulated while he thrusts his hips up.

“Just like that, princess,” he whimpers under you.

You hold out for the longest you can before you feel your gag reflex kicking in and then you retreat with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his dick, your eyes blurry from unshed tears as you make up for the loss of your mouth with your hand. Sungchan moves both of his hands to your cheeks, holding you tenderly as his thumbs press on your waterline to catch the tears clouding your vision.

When you blink, his face becomes clear to you again. His eyes are glassy and lust filled, his open mouth is panting and his chest, cheeks and neck are splotched. It fills you with pride that he’s gotten into such a fucked-up state just because of you.

“Feels good?” You ask in between deep breaths, trying to fill your lungs with air before preparing to take him in your mouth again whilst you keep pumping his cock.

“Yes. You’ve gotten so good at this, doll. Doing your best job yet,” he says and the pride swells in your chest, an instant ego boost cursing through your system.

Before you met Sungchan, you didn’t care enough about receiving or giving oral. You had a couple of boyfriends before, but you were still inexperienced and slightly disgusted of doing and experimenting certain things. And even though they had given you head before, and you’d tried your best to reciprocate, it was always a means to an end, never the primary goal of your sexual encounters.

But Sungchan was different. The first time he ate you out, he didn’t stop until you finished three times in sequence. It was so good it made you want to do the same for him. He made you feel seductive and bold enough to try new things. And he had the patience to teach you just the way he liked it. He didn’t become frustrated when your rhythm was shitty and you had to take long breaks to breathe before going back at it again. He didn’t push your head to take him all the way when you weren’t prepared. He waited for your affirmative response, leading and encouraging you, praising you whenever you achieved a new skill or did something different. He was good to you. And in turn, you became good for him.

“I like to pleasure you,” you say sincerely and trace your tongue on the vein that runs under his cock.

Sungchan jitters on the bed. “Yeah, and you trained so hard for that, right? Always sucking on my cock like you want to milk me dry, too.”

You nod, suckling and peppering small kisses all over his tip. “I do want to suck you dry.”

He smirks at that and moves his hand to the back of your neck again, tightening his grip. “Then why don’t you put it in your mouth again, baby?”

You smirk back at him and take your last big whiff of air before opening your lips to take him inside again. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down immediately, gripping at the base of his dick a hand and letting his moans, sighs and hums of approval guide your ministrations. You suction on the parts of his cock your mouth can reach and flatten your tongue on the underside of it, playing with his most sensitive parts while Sungchan keeps praising you.

“Shit. So good to me, doll. Keep doing that,” he grunts and you nod.

When his nails dig on your nape and his tip hits the back of your throat, you breathe through your nose and let him jerk his hips up until your forehead meets his stomach and your nose rubs on his pubic hair. You press both of your hands on his thighs and allow him to use your mouth until you can’t breathe and think straight anymore.

When you back out heaving, Sungchan moves his fingers to your face to catch the droll falling from your lips and clean the tears striking your cheeks. He waits for you to gather your surroundings again, still complimenting you and your work.

“Damn, you’re such a good girl,” he says tenderly, thumbs running over the apple of your cheeks. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

The praise, of course, gets to you again. So, you tighten your grip on the root of his cock, starting to pump him faster, and take your other hand away from his thigh, pressing your fingers together and shaping your palm in a conch-like way to rub it on the tip of his dick, your thumb going under the head to rub at the sensitive spot located there. Sungchan moans loudly at that and you lean over to lick on his balls at the best of your ability giving the position you’re both in, not giving up even if the carpeted floor is digging on your skin.

Sungchan scrunches his eyes closed and slides one of his hands to the back of your neck and moves the other to grasp over yours on the head of his cock, pulling it away to rest them together at his thigh. “I’m close, princess.”

You catch his warning and wrap your lips on his cock again, instantly taking him in your throat as he desperately yanks his hips up in your mouth, fingers pressing on your nape and moans growing heavy and breathless. Your free hand fiddles with his balls, your nose presses on his lower stomach again and you swear you can feel him in your windpipe. And that’s when he releases, painting the inside of your mouth white with thick ropes of cum that only seize after a minute. When his body becomes loose and his hand on your neck turns weak, you pull away with a pop, watching his dick twitch and slap against his stomach.

You breathe deep and press your hands on the mattress on both of his sides to get up slowly, back and knees complaining about being in the same position for long minutes. Despite looking limp and still dazed, Sungchan pulls you to him so quickly you almost lose your balance. He peppers kisses on your belly and boobs while your hands press on his shoulders. And when you groan and move a hand to rub your left knee, he pulls your leg up to place your foot on the bed and hunches to close his lips on your skin, his tongue lavishing against the redness there. It tickles and you chuckle at him, but that doesn’t stop him from giving your right leg the same attention. He places your left foot on the ground and bends your right leg to press your toes on the mattress, repeating the same process. You smile fondly at him and caress his hair while he drops kisses on your right knee. And when he’s done, he slides your leg down so you’re now pressing your knee on the bed on the side of his thigh.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispers as he pulls you in for another kiss.

You press your body closer to his and feel the way his dick is hardening again, rubbing on your thigh, precum wetting it. But as you shuffle to straddle him completely, Sungchan stops you with a hand on your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice hoarse from the blowjob. Sungchan doesn’t reply, scooting closer to his nightstand to open his drawer instead.

He pulls a foil packet from the already opened box of condoms and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. You guys have been doing it raw for three months now, ever since you told each other you were clean and not seeing anybody else and you started taking the pill. Sungchan loves finishing inside of you. So of course, you’re a little bit puzzled about why he’s choosing to wear a condom now, all of the sudden.

Well, maybe he’s afraid you met someone else during your time apart, but this possibility doesn’t even make sense. So you try to quash away his worries.

“I haven’t seen anyone else, Sungchan,” you tell him as he opens the foil packet and discards the trash on his night stand, right beside your cell phone.

“I know, doll,” he says back, eyes fleeting on yours for a moment before they focus on wrapping the condom around his dick. His voice sounds confident when he says it and it irks you how he’s so certain you won’t sleep with anyone else. “It’s just quicker to clean up this way.”

You tilt your head to the side and cross your arms. It doesn’t make sense. You can always shower after. That happened all the time. And it frequently led to you having round two in the bathroom, which you are not opposed to at all.

When Sungchan finishes securing the condom on his dick, he grabs your hand to drop a kiss on the back of it and pulls you closer. You budge just slightly and his eyes catch the way your stance is guarded and you’re not opening yourself up for him yet. He smiles, eyes crinkling with the motion. “Come on, princess. We have to be quick, right? Don’t you have to sleep early for that final on your third period tomorrow?”

His words are lovingly convincing and he’s technically right. But you still eye him suspiciously. Your finals are the last thing on your mind right now and you don’t believe Sungchan is worried about your sleep cycle after you just spent almost an hour pleasuring each other. It just doesn’t make sense, your mind screams at you.

You’re sure something is wrong, but when Sungchan starts kissing your clavicle and grabbing at the back of your thighs to pull you against his front, you fold, letting his lips and hands distract you from it. Then you straddle him, eager to have him inside you to pull away from the siren alarm ringing loud inside your head. He’s rock hard again and you take his cock in your hand, slapping it against your pussy lips to share your juices and the condom’s lubricant with each other. Sungchan rests his forehead against yours as you look down together at the scene.

When you move up enough for the head of his cock to catch on your hole, you both sigh, but it slips and hits your clit, so you scoot forward to get better leverage to put him inside you. Sungchan supports you with gripping hands on your back while you move your hips back up and finally his cock prods on your entrance. You’re both sighing together again when he enters you, and when Sungchan meets resistance half his way inside, he pulls you up slightly and rubs your hips, muttering about how good you’re taking him until you release more wetness, your walls fluttering and stretching to accommodate all of him.

Soon enough his thick cock is deep inside you and Sungchan bottoms out with a huff, watching as your pussy envelopes him whole. His mouth is slightly open and his two front teeth show behind his upper lip just like a bunny’s, sweat glistening on his forehead, that heart-shaped spot his hairline makes taunting you again. Your heart swells at the sight of it all, and you hate how cute he is whilst his cock is splitting you open. You place a kiss on the spot on his forehead just like you wanted before and then drop another one on the mole on the corner of his upper lip. Sungchan pulls your lips to his as you experimentally move up and down on him.

“You feel so good, princess,” he moans, breaking the kiss.

“Big,” you whimper out, scratching at his shoulders. “Feels so full, Jinsu.”

He chuckles and kisses on your temple. “I know, princess. But you like it, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing at his chest and gazing at his eyes again. “I like it so much.”

And you do. You like it so much that you start riding him with full energy, needing to show him how much you like him inside you, how much you like him. You try to convey with your body the words you haven’t been able to reveal, trying to show him and yourself how much this is right because of how good it feels. Because maybe if you bounce on his dick just right, suck on his pulse point the way he likes it and give him high pitched moans that compliment his performance he’ll start to like you back.

“You’re so perfect,” he says over your ear, his fringe tickling your cheek. “So fucking perfect.”

You want to scream at him that he’s right, that you are perfect, perfect for him. But instead, you purse your lips together and focus on rolling your hips against his until your thighs burn. Sungchan’s hands are splayed on your butt cheeks and he aids you, helping you by moving you up and down in a steady rhythm. He looks at your face as you scrunch up your nose and close your eyes to focus on keep riding him. You try to pick up your movements, needing a faster place to bounce back on him in a way that doesn’t tire you out as much. But Sungchan keeps slowing you down, distracting you by kissing on your pulse point, fondling your boobs, sucking on your nipples or pulling your face to kiss you. While he showers you with affection with his lips, his hand presses deeply and firmly on your back so you ride him languidly, almost stopping at times when the movements pull hoarse moans out of you both.

After a while, you start slacking because you’re actually becoming tired, trembling and losing your flow completely. Sungchan increases his efforts, trying to move you on him with only his hands, but you already surpassed the time you are usually able to ride him and your body is spent. You press your lips on his clavicle and slump against him, giving up completely.

You feel Sungchan lips on the nape of your neck and then his light chuckle. “Want me to take over?” He asks in a gentle tone.

“Yes please,” you breathe against his sternum.

He rubs the expanse of your legs and kisses your shoulder before pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and getting up with you on his lap. You think he’s going to lay you back on his sheets, but are surprised when he carries you over to his dresser, his hand knocking over and away some bottles of perfume and deodorant as he drops you on top of it. You jolt from how cold the wood feels on your heated skin and his cock slips out of you, making you both laugh a beat later.

“Why not the bed?” You ask breathless and still chuckling, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his middle as you shuffle to the edge of the dresser, watching Sungchan’s eyes turn into half-moons as he laughs with you.

“Just wanted to have you here, too,” he whispers, draping his arms tight around you and kissing you again.

He’s so playful and happy today, kissing you so much and complimenting you, slowing down and taking his time with you, his touches so careful and gentle you can’t help but start hoping. You hope that this, whatever this new side of him he’s showing you today, means something more. The feeling chews brutally on your heart, making you aware that you probably won’t come out of it alive.

Sungchan hooks one arm under your leg and pulls you to his body until half of your butt is hanging on the edge of the dresser, then grabs at his dick to guide it back to your hole, groaning when he’s fully inside of you again. You think he’s going to thrust his hips hard and fast, but he surprises you one more time by pulling back slowly, almost all the way out, before driving himself inside of you again just as gently. You sigh at the fullness and he does it again, his eyes fixated on where you two meet. This way you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock hitting all the right stops inside you, your toes curling and a moan boiling on your throat from how good it all feels. When he glides back one more time, you lift his head to look into his eyes, and he keeps your gaze as he leisurely fills you up one more time.

 “I love feeling every part of you like this,” he says when he’s bottomed out again, and you think you might die from heartache if he keeps treating you this way.

However, you don’t have the time – and you seriously don’t want to – dwell on it because in the next moment he’s thrusting inside you more forcefully and faster, making you pant and moan profusely again. You let your eyes roam over his form whilst he fucks you deep and hard. He’s so attractive it makes you a little crazy. Sturdy and toned body, a defined chest, six-pack glistening with sweat, biceps flexing as he keeps you in place, veins on his forearms bulging up, a muscular back and firm hips and long strong legs supporting all of it. So tall and strong. His face is ridiculously good-looking, too. Thick brows, wide eyes, a structured nose and pink full lips, his cupid’s bow so well designed you think it was handcrafted by God himself. You don’t know whether to thank him or Sungchan’s parents for putting him in the world. He’s perfect. And great at fucking. You kind of hate him.

Sungchan catches your wandering eyes over him and grins at you. “Like what you see?” He whispers, chest pressing on yours as he slows down his pace.

You roll your eyes. You also hate him for being so smug. “You’re handsome. What should I do? Look away?”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. “No. You can look all you want, doll. Memorize it even.”

You pinch his shoulders and graze your teeth on his cheek for that and he shakes with laughter. “Such a cocky boy,” you whisper.

He holds your face in both of his hands as his hips keep meeting yours, going back to the slow measured thrusts inside you. “You’re so beautiful, too,” he mutters and kisses you again, halting all of his movements as his tongue darts inside your lips, tasting every crevice of your mouth. But you’re burning inside and you don’t care for slow and sweet anymore. You want him to ruin you, so you buck your hips forward for him to fill you up all over again.

He exhales and bites on your lower lip as you try working him inside of you the same way he was doing, but you fail. Your rhythm is shit and you’re still exhausted from riding him earlier, so you whine and grip his shoulders. “Sungchan, take me back to the bed so you can fuck me right,” you mumble, wiggling your body and trying to hop down the dresser as he keeps pressed against you, peppering kisses over your neck. “Please, Jinsu.”

He draws back from your neck, then, and quickly hooks his arms over your legs, hands splaying on your butt, to carry you back to the bed, remaining connected with you. You like how he makes you feel so small, as if you weigh nothing even though you have fat on your belly and plump thighs and arms. He never comments on it, too, and you’re so grateful for him never making you feel anything but desirable as your back meets his sheets and he hovers over you again. He's big in more ways than one.

You arch your back so his cock keeps filling you up, searching for that place inside you he always hits so good. But Sungchan has other plans, and his hands come to your wrists to stop your movements, holding your hands over your head as he presses all of his body on yours, your boobs squishing against him. His eyes bore into yours as he leisurely presses his cock inside you again and you bear your nails down on his knuckles. You desperately want to feel him with your hands. And you badly want him to stop looking at you with that intense gaze that makes you think – makes you feel – he cares about you the same way you care about him.

When he kisses you again, you can’t take it anymore, huffing at being constrained by your hands and urging him to look at you. “Can you flip me over?” You ask and Sungchan’s eyes shine bright at your sentence. He can never resist having you in doggy and you smile mischievously when you’re already laying on your stomach a second later, Sungchan manhandling you the way he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he instructs and you fumble to obey his command, pushing yourself up and back on your knees and positioning your hands on the bed at the length of your shoulders to support your body.

Sungchan instantly corrects your form, one hand sneaking in between your thighs to spread them further apart and another pressing on your back for you to lean your upper body down, making you arch. You sigh from feeling his warm touch over your skin, wiggling your ass in the air for him. He chuckles at you and gives a soft slap at your right butt cheek and you laugh with him.

“You look so pretty in this position,” he says, now placing himself behind you and shimmying his knees in between your legs. “You know I love to fuck you like this, right?”

“Yes,” you whisper, anticipation building high as you feel him prepare to enter you again. “And I love when you fuck me like this.”

Sungchan hums at you, and you finally feel the warmth of his skin on yours as he slaps his dick over the curve of your ass, making you purr. “And I love this ass, too,” he mutters, resting his cock on your body as his hands grab at your ass. Then he gives it another hit, this time harder than the first one, his palm softly massaging the spot after. You stumble on the bed slightly from the shock, smothering a moan. “Love how it looks when I fuck you.”

You know by now that he’s enjoying his time teasing and playing with you, but you’re so desperate to feel him inside of you again that you don’t mind begging for it. “Jinsu, please. Can you please put it back in?”

He snickers at you and finally finishes rearranging himself, his knuckles brushing against the back of your thighs as he begins tugging on his dick again and guiding it inside you, the head of it pressing on your entrance. “Okay, doll, but just because I want it just as bad as you.”

He slides hard and fully inside you in one go, driving you forward on the mattress. You sigh contently, feeling full and complete. In this new angle, he feels even deeper. Sungchan groans as he feels your cunt spasming around him, one hand gripping your right hip and the other kneading your ass. He pulls back halfway and pushes in again, harder than before, and your eyes roll to the back of your head from how good it already feels.

“You good, princess?” He asks, stilling inside of you.

“Yeah. Feels so deep,” you whisper, leaning the side of your face on the sheets above you to try to look back to him. You only get a glimpse of his left ear and cheek and how his biceps look holding you down, the rest of your view being obstructed by your own body.

“Hmm, I know,” he muses, languidly moving in and out of you, now both of his hands landing on your ass cheeks to spread them apart. You’re pretty sure he’s indulging himself in feeling the plush of your skin spilling between his fingers and watching how your pussy swallows him whole from that angle. He’s addicted to the image and feel of you like this. “I always hit it so deep like this.”

“Uh-huh. And you can hit it harder and faster, too, right?” You tease, pushing yourself back on his cock to make him fuck you swiftly.

He laughs and moves one hand to your hip again, leaning further into you and pressing his hips against yours. “Sorry. Got distracted by your ass again”, he confesses and it’s your time to snicker at him. But soon he begins to drive his cock harder and faster inside you, just like you asked, and your laugh is replaced by moans. “Better now?”

“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling his dick hit all the right places inside of you. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, his hips kissing yours again and again, the sound of your skins smacking together echoing through the room.

He’s been driving you crazy the whole night with his slow and measured thrusts, his gentle and nice words and his overflowing affection, so it’s no wonder you’re already moaning loudly and fisting the sheets of his bed in very little time. Sungchan is no better than you, though. You can hear him grunting every time his hips kiss yours and feel his legs tensing beneath you. He probably planned to excessively and deliberately tease you until you were begging to cum, but he didn’t realize he’d also be overstimulating himself before getting to the finish line. It’s as annoying as it is adorable.

“Holy shit. You really look so good like this, princess,” he grunts, his eyes admiring how your ass jiggles against him with every forceful drive of his cock inside of you. “Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

Your chest expands at his admission, getting dizzy from the knowledge that he’s so transfixed by you that he says something like that in the heat of the moment. The feeling curls inside your chest and you smile. Maybe he does reciprocate your feelings for him. Who knows?

You open your mouth to say something teasing about his statement, but the words are long forgotten when he reaches his hand up your shoulder to wrap around it and tugs you back against him hard, moving you back to him as he continues driving himself forwards. Your loud moans of his name turn into broken whimpers of random words you don’t even remember thinking.

“So wet and warm for me, gripping me so tight,” he says above you and you wonder how he’s still capable of forming sentences when that ability is now so hard for you. “Fucking perfect.”

“Your dick is perfect,” you try to make out even though your brain is a mess. “You are perfect.”

He moans and grips you tighter, showing he understood you. “Thank you, doll. Now c'mere,” he says, moving his palm on your shoulder the other way around, hooking it under you. “Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

Again, he maneuvers you the way he wishes to. With his cock still inside you, he removes his legs from between yours to position them outside of you now, putting pressure so you have no choice but to drive your legs together. The movement makes your pussy snugger around his cock and he moans, halting for a beat to bask in the feeling of it. Then he pushes your upper half up, hauling you up with his grip on your shoulder, making you raise yourself again until your back meets his chest. You feel prickles on your arm at the close contact and sweat makes you both sticky, your skin gluing you to him as Sungchan now moves a hand to grab at one of your tits and the other one to cross over your whole waist, clinging your body to his.

You’re molded together. You won’t complain about it.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and grazes his thumbnail on your nipple, making you hiss. Then he starts moving again, his hips driving backwards and forwards with enough force to drive you away from him. Except his arms are still steady and firm around you, keeping you connected even through his hard thrusts inside of you, and you reach down to grip his thighs, your nails scratching him.

“That’s it, princess, taking me so well,” he rasps on your ear and you bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from being too loud.

“Shit, Jinsu, I think I’m-" You try to stutter out, your voice becoming high and airy as the head of his cock rubs deliciously on your g-spot.

“Fuck yeah, I can feel you clenching around me,” he says and after his words you feel your cunt contracting even more, trying to keep him inside of you forever. “You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

“Yesyesyes.” You turn your head slightly back so you can rest your forehead on his temple. He turns his face to yours, too, and you watch as droplets of sweat fall from his hair to his face. You move your hand to his face to keep him there and Sungchan does the same with the hand that was gripping your waist, moving it to the side of your face to stroke over your cheekbone with his fingers. “I’m so close, Jinsu,” you murmur, lips ghosting over his.

“Me too, princess,” he replies and drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Let’s do it together, okay?”

You nod just as he slides his hand from your boob to your clit, rubbing it in quick little circles. The added stimulation on your clitoris makes you light-headed and you try to grip at the last shreds of your sanity to stay in the moment with him. Sungchan’s eyes shine against yours and you overwhelm your senses trying to concentrate on feeling everything at once. His hands and hold all over you, his fingers coaxing your orgasm out of you, his legs hitting on the back of your thighs, his hair brushing against your forehead, the smell of him and of sex – the smell of both of you together – invading your nostrils, his strength driving his hips against yours, his perfect dick hitting inside of you so good, his voice whispering dirty sweet nothings to you. And his lips that attach to yours the moment you’re on the edge of breaking apart, finally making you cum.

Sungchan kisses you while your pussy convulses on his cock and he thrusts inside you one, two, three more times until he’s spilling inside the condom. You keep clenching around him, trying to milk him until the last drop, and he keeps stroking your clit and kissing your lips. Only when your body starts twitching from the overstimulation and you grab at his forearm, he removes his hand from your cunt and detaches his lips from yours to kiss your cheek next. You sigh lazily, trembling on his arms as he pecks the same spot over and over, still muttering compliments and thank you’s. You can’t make out what he’s saying exactly because your blood is still ringing in your ears, your heart is beating rapidly, your thighs are sore and your body is starting to feel the first signs of exhaustion. So, you caress his forearm and hope it’s enough to return the sentiment.

His grip on you loosens just a little and you try to shift ahead. Sungchan, of course, notices your movement, and in no time he’s delicately laying both of you back on the bed, your heated chest rubbing against the cool sheets becoming a luxury as he keeps his rib cage connected to your back, being careful not to drop his full weight on you. He closes his lips over your shoulder blades and you indulge yourself in the attention and tenderness he’s still giving you while you catch your breath.

After some time of exchanging lazy caresses and quick kisses, he finally disconnects his body from yours, pulling out of you and getting up to tie off the end of the condom. You instantly miss his warmth and wrap a hand around his wrist, turning on your side to look at him. He smiles at you and bends over to kiss your forehead quickly.

“I have to drop this in the trash and clean myself a little. I’ll be back in a minute,” he states and gives you another kiss, this time on the lips. Then he tugs his briefs back on, turns and walks out of the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.

You exhale deeply as you turn your head to the ceiling, watching the shadows casted on it by the small droplets of rain still falling randomly outside. Your mind starts to work right away, trying to recap everything you just lived with Sungchan to hunt for signs of his feelings for you. But you’re so tired you banish the thoughts to the back of your head, covering yourself with the bedding from your toes to your head in a feeble attempt to hide from your own mind.

Sungchan is back a minute later, laying on the bed and draping himself all over and around you. You pinch his ribs when he drops his full weight on your stomach and he laughs, pulling at the sheets to see your face and body again. Once your head is out, he threatens to tickle you in retaliation for the tweak in his chest and you lift your arms in surrender, laughing with him.

When you’re both done laughing, Sungchan takes your hands in his and pins them to the bed beside your head, then kisses you. You smile between the soft press of his lips, giddy in oxytocin and pleasure.

“You should probably use the bathroom, too,” he states when he pulls back and you know he’s right. You need to pee and freshen up. And find the courage to leave his house and go to yours. You still have an exam in the morning. “I’ll grab your clothes from the dryer while you’re at it.”

You sigh dramatically and pull yourself from the bed and Sungchan’s arms. He chuckles and hands you a sheet to cover your body before you make your way to the bathroom, murmuring about how “Shotaro could get home anytime”.

You nod and when you turn to walk away, he gives a pat at your bottom, making you yelp. You look over your shoulder to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, but the smile on your face lets him know it’s all in good fun.

Inside the restroom, you take your time peeing and stretching your limbs back to their places. You hope the soreness from being tense or in the same positions for too long will go away after a good night's sleep. Then you step into the shower to quickly rinse yourself of any bodily fluids and sweat, cleaning your hands methodically and letting some water fall into your messy hair. You wrap your body with the same towel you used earlier and move to stand in front of the mirror again to finger-comb your hair back in a ponytail. But the lilac polka dotted bow scrunchie you had on isn’t with you anymore, probably getting lost around Sungchan’s room in the midst of everything.

You come back from the bathroom and find Sungchan seated on his bed, waiting for you already dressed and with your dried clothes placed by his side, a pensive look in his face while he stares at the wall opposed to him.

“I think I lost my scrunchie,” you say to him, pouting both because your favorite hair accessory and because Sungchan is already clothed. You were hoping you’d ogle his body some more before going.

Sungchan’s head snaps up when you arrive, like you’ve caught him off guard while his mind was elsewhere, but he promptly shakes his reaction off with a smile. “We’ll search for it later.” He puts your clothes on his lap and invites you closer. “Here, I’ll help you dress.”

You saunter over to him and stand in between his legs, thinking he’s just going to hand you each piece of your clothing as you dress up. He surprises you when he picks up your panties, holding it with his two hands inside its waistband, and bends down, lowering the item so you can pass your legs through the openings.

You quirk an eyebrow up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies with a smirk, staying very still as you analyze him, gaze unwavering on yours. You shrug and do as he pleases, standing on one foot and then on the other as you pass your legs through the loops successfully one at a time. He tugs the underwear up until it’s placed correctly around your hips, then pinches gingerly on the place where your right thigh becomes your right butt cheek, as he proudly says, “Atta girl.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I think you’re kinda obsessed with my ass.”

He smiles and preens his neck up to kiss on your clavicle. You fight the urge to search the contact of his lips again when he retreats. “You’re right, I kinda am.” Then he picks up your bra next and signals his forefinger up and in a circular motion for you to turn around.

You turn on your heels and Sungchan’s fingertips start caressing both of your arms, moving softly along your biceps until your forearms and then to your wrists, bra still on his right hand between his pinky and ring fingers. Once he gets to your hands, he hooks the straps of the undergarment over your arms and pulls it up until each one is located on your shoulders. His hands go to your back to close the clasp, and you feel the teeth in the clip nipping slightly at your skin as he fastens it. He drops a kiss on your scapula and goosebumps raise all over your body. You wonder if he’s doing this on purpose, if his plan is to tease you and ruin you again and, at least, if this is as hot to him as it is to you. If he keeps this up, you might only get out of his place in the morning.

He grabs at your hips and turns back to him again, then holds your jeans, scrunching up the fabric of the legs so you can see the openings from the waistband until the bottom hems. That’s when you break your silence. “Is this some type of kink of yours?”

He chortles at you and holds the pants down for you to put on. You comply, passing your legs through the openings just like you did with the panties, and letting him yank it up. You pay attention to his eyes as he does it. His gaze sparkles as he watches your skin disappearing between his fingers and behind the fabric. You think it’s kind of cute and it reminds you of when you were little and did the same with your toys, changing their outfits nearly every minute. He’s playing with you as if you really are his doll, dressing you up for him. But behind the glow on his eyes, you also catch a hint of longing. Something indescribable, that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Sungchan drums his fingers around the waistband of your jeans until they go around all the way to find the button on its front. “Not a kink,” he says sincerely, pressing the button through its loop and then moving his digits down the fly to feel around for the zipper. “Just doing something nice for you.”

“Why?” You question, suspicious eyes falling over his face as he focuses on tugging the zipper up and securing your fastened pants.

He shrugs. “Because I want to.” Then, he hooks his fingers on the belt loops in front of your pants and pulls on them, therefore also pulling you to him. “Because you deserve it,” he says simply with a smile.

You blush at his words, smiling back at him and leaning down to press a kiss on his lips. You want to get lost in his mouth again. You want to get rid of your clothes once more and lay down with him in this bed for a week, finals and chores and college responsibilities be damned. But Sungchan, ever the responsible one, withdraws and puts some distance between your bodies before you get too eager.

“There’s still some clothes left to put on,” he says, snickering when you sigh in response.

You cave in to his will, collaborating with him to put your shirt over your head and then your hoodie. When you’re completely dressed and you straighten the clothes on your body, Sungchan finishes his little game of dress up by tying the strings of your sweater together with a bow. “Pretty girl,” he says.

“Pretty boy,” you say back, moving to sit on his lap, your legs perpendicular to his, one arm going around his shoulders and the other one resting over his, your fingers poking on the collar of his shirt, nails scratching the skin underneath. “I just think it’s a little unfair that I didn’t get to help you dress.”

He chuckles and moves his hand to close around yours, turning it to press his lips on your knuckles. “Maybe another time.”

You scrunch your nose up, obviously not satisfied with his reply. “Another time, then. I should probably get going anyway.”

Sungchan nods, but instead of letting you go, he pulls you close once more, wrapping his arms around your middle, his hands rubbing your back and his face hiding between your neck and shoulder. You hug him back just as tight, running your fingers through his hair while he breathes in your scent and presses kisses into every part his lips can reach. You stay like this for what feels like hours. Every time you think he’s done, he fixes his hold to hug you even tighter, almost binding you two together. When he finally slackens his grip a little, it’s only to move his hand to the back of your head and coax your lips in his. His tongue enters your mouth hungry and yearning, and you kiss him back with all the energy you can muster up. Just like all the kisses before, this one leaves you breathless and dazzled. Your mind is already fogged up and numb by the time he finally pulls back and, with moist lips and a piercing gaze, presses his mouth to yours one final time.

“You should probably get going,” he repeats back to you. You have to blink your eyes open two times to understand what he’s saying and command your wobbly legs to remember how to stand up again. “I’ll give you a ride.”

You nod at him and when you get up from his lap, Sungchan slides his hands down your shoulders to your upper arms, then to your forearms and wrists. He squeezes your hands two times before letting you go. You move to his nightstand to retrieve your cell phone, now charged and full of notifications you still leave unopened, and put it in your pocket. Then you bend down to plug the charger out of the switch.

“Uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about something before you go,” Sungchan says the moment you take the charger out and you hear the uncertainty in his words, the fear.

Your heart skips a beat, your mind already whirring with a thousand possibilities of whatever he has to say. But you try to keep your expression emotionless and your eagerness at bay while you stand upright again. “Sure. What is it?” You roll up the charger’s wire and nod to him, encouraging him to keep going before turning on your heels to put your things away in your bag.

You’re already with your back turned to him, crouching down to your backpack and opening the zipper of its front pocket when he speaks again. “You remember the girl I partnered up with for my organic chemistry project?”

You pause when you hear him. The zipper’s slide is still as ever beneath your fingertips, the sound of the teeth getting dragged away completely stopping as you remain unmoving. You can sense something is wrong. You feel it in your bones. Whatever his next words are going to be, you’ll not like it one bit.

If Sungchan notices your momentary stillness, he doesn’t make any comment about it. You feel suspended in the air, on the edge of an information that’ll make you jump over the cliff. You wish you could go back to two minutes ago, when you didn’t know he had something to tell you. But your curiosity and the red flags you so carefully stepped around before now come to the forefront of your mind. And you take the bait, dragging the teeth of the zipper back until its stop to mask up for any agitation in your voice when you reply. “The sophomore majoring in biology? Yeah, what about her?”

“We’ve been hanging out for a while now,” he replies quickly this time while you’re putting your charger inside the bag and closing the pocket back. “It’s been working out pretty well.”

You stand up, then, and Sungchan pauses. He’s probably inspecting your reaction before letting the full truth out. You know exactly what he’s going to say. He’s about to reject you, to choose her over you. You wish you couldn’t be able to hear right now. But you need to listen to him so you can move on from whatever this fucked-up thing between you two is. And you decide you need to see it, too, turning around to watch him and crossing your arms over your chest, waiting for the impact.

“I actually really like her,” he says, eyes fixed on the spot behind you on the wall, not quite looking at you. His tone is heavy on the really. He probably just likes you. But her? He really likes her.

And there it is. The whole truth. All those things you ignored before had been there for a reason. The two weeks with no contact. The text on his laptop that he scurried to hide from you. His insistence on wearing a condom. The many kisses, the slow fucking, the compliments. His intense gaze. Even his fucking words.

“I love it when you call me that.”

“I love feeling every part of you like this.”

“Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

“You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

All of those words weren’t because he’s in love with you. He didn’t really miss you, either. Maybe your body, sure. But not you, not really. Not at all.

He was not being gentle and kind and pampering you for you. He wasn’t gazing deeply into your eyes and showering you with kisses and beautiful words because he likes you. He was doing it to savor his last time fucking you before he turned another woman into his girlfriend. It was all because he’s discarding you.

He was saying goodbye. And you fell for it like a fool.

You have every right to be mad at Sungchan for taking advantage of your vulnerable self just to fuck you one last time. He likely planned to just keep ghosting you until you’d saw him around campus with his new bae and get the message, but then you called him and offered the perfect opportunity of a farewell shag on a silver platter. And he wasn’t going to reject it. He played his cards right, of course.

But you’re not mad at him. At least he gave you three earth-shattering orgasms before breaking your heart.

You’re really mad with yourself. Because you fucking knew it. The signs were everywhere. His silence about the status of your relationship wasn’t because he liked you too much to confess to you or because he was afraid you’d not like him back. It was a strategy. It was about keeping you on his side for as long as he wanted to have you. Good and easy pussy. He didn’t even have to make an effort to lie to you. You did it yourself, bending the truths so you could keep being with him, in whichever way he’d let you.

Plus, there’s no way a man like Sungchan would settle for someone like you. You just choose to push away all the hints he gave you just to feed on crumbs of his affection. A trauma response or some shit like that, no doubt. You’d have to ask your psychology student friend.

God, you really are pathetic.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Sungchan asks, and you notice you’ve been lost throwing a pity party on your own thoughts for a while.

To your merit, you shake it off like a champ, smiling at him and falling into your chill girl persona. “That’s great, Jinsu,” you say, smiling even though you’re dying inside. “I guess that means we should stop meeting up, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes widen. He obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction. You’ve probably shown your feelings for him a little too much and that made him real sure you’d have an outburst. But you’re a chill girl right now.

Chill girls don’t care about their flings liking someone else. Chill girls don’t want to know everything about it, too. They aren’t curious in the slightest about how long he’s been seeing her, how many times he’s fucked her, if he calls her princess and doll too and if she’s been on the same sheets they’ve just cummed all over in.

And chill girls particularly don’t mind when their friend with benefits for half a year is choosing someone he’s only known for two months over them.

He recovers quickly, looking sheepish while he nods, his cheeks blushing. “Yeah, would that be a problem? I’m actually planning to ask her to be my girlfriend this weekend.”

Shit, you didn’t need to know that. It hurts a little too much. Your smile falters for a beat, his words giving you whiplash. You feel dizzy and cold like you were dropped on icy water. If you kept walking outside in the rain, it wouldn’t feel as bitter as this.

Then you turn away from him, busying yourself with picking your backpack up to put it over your body. “No problem at all.”

But Sungchan plays with your feelings until the end, putting his hands on your shoulders to spin you back to face him. “Are you really okay with this?” He questions with his best puppy eyes.

He’s still cute while he does it. What a fucker. Now you hate him for real.

If he thinks you’re going to spill your heart out to him and ask him to choose you, pick you, love you in a rendition of Meredith Grey’s speech, he’s very wrong. You still have some pride left.

“Yes. I’m happy for you, Jinsu,” you reply through gritted teeth, the same frozen smile from earlier on your face. You can only be so chill about this and he’s pushing it.

“Oh!” He exclaims after your words, like a lightbulb went out in his head. He at least has the decency to stutter and seem embarrassed as he asks, “Uh… Would you mind going back to call me by my name, too?”

Of course. You just lost your privilege to his nickname. Jinsu is reserved for his close friends and his soon-to-be girlfriend. And, obviously, he can’t risk his new girl hearing another woman calling him such an intimate pet name. She’d have questions.

And you’re nothing for him anymore. You have to stick with his name now.

“Of course, Sungchan.”

“Thanks, princess,” he says, and you quirk an eyebrow up at him. If you can’t call him Jinsu, his nicknames for you are forbidden, too. He covers his mouth with a hand when he notices what he said. “Sorry. Y/N.”

After that, you both walk to the foyer to put on your sneakers so Sungchan can take you home. You don’t want to be in his presence anymore and you try to argue that you would be okay getting an Uber, but he blabbers on about how he insists about it and that’s the least he could do.

You agree just to get it over with. Sungchan picks his car key from the holder in the hall and opens the door for you. You get a last look at his place before stepping out. You feel weird once you’re out and the door closes behind you, realizing that you’ll never be inside his house again. The feeling churns in your heart and your eyes prickle, but you breathe deep and will it to go away.

You both are silent the whole two flights of stairs down his garage. And you stay like that while you get in his car and he turns the engine on, still not speaking a thing as he drives out of the small building complex and takes the path to your home. The only noise is the music coming out the radio and his old car sputtering up.

Luckily enough, your apartment is just a ten-minute drive from his. When he stops the car at your building’s curb, you gather your things from the carpet and say your goodbye. But Sungchan puts his hand over your, though, stopping you from opening the door.

“Can I have one last hug?” He has the audacity to ask.

That’s when you break your chill act.

You look over at him with raw and rough hatred. And he sees it, because he instantly retreats his fingers from you and flinches on his seat. “No, Sungchan,” you almost growl at him, venom dripping from your mouth. “I think your girlfriend wouldn’t like that.”

She probably will not like finding your favorite scrunchie inside the first drawer of his nightstand where you left it before getting out of his room, too. But that’s not your problem to deal with.

After your final words, you open the door and get out of his car, practically running inside your complex. You stay somber while you walk inside and wait for the elevator. You stay solemn while you ride the elevator, waiting for it to get to your floor. You even remain serious while you type your code in and finally get inside your house.

But when you take your shoes off and drop your bag on the floor, your entryway light flickers over your head for a few seconds until the bulb goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You stare into the dark and are also met with the silent empty space of your apartment.

You move your hand to the bow on your hoodie, the last snippet of your encounter with Sungchan you still have on. You pull on the strings and it disappears. Then you break down, curling over yourself until you’re on your knees, releasing loud sobs with chunks of tears coming out of your eyes.

What comes after is… being utterly alone. 

author’s note: phew! thank you for reading this little monster. please consider letting me know what you think about it in the comments or my ask box. feel free to scream at me all you want, i welcome it! <3

[veras1ne]

✮;༉“Slut Me Out.”

Hi doves! I hope you like my new theme <3 I’ve really been feeling the color purple lately but specifically a dullish purple! Swans are my everything though so they’re still here as always. Anyways, I have another Saw fic for you guys, the next fic I post will be Anakin Skywalker!

✰Pairing´ˎ˗📀: Amanda Young x Kramer!Male!Reader

✰ ‧₊˚ Summary 🦢: Amanda was having a very slow day, until you popped inside the workshop. It’s so distracting having such a beautiful enigma in front of you, but maybe a distraction is just what she needed to make her day go faster, her associates son.

✰ ;➛ WARNINGS🫧: THIS IS AN 18+ SMUT FANFIC WORK. I am NOT responsible for the media you read and consume! Your warnings are the following: Smut, Cunnilingus, Age Gap, PIV, Mild Degrading, Fucking On A Table,

Amanda was having a very slow day. John hadn’t given her any tasks, and yet she’d still been put on standby. With no current traps to build and not having to take care of John, she sat sketching out new ideas for future contraptions.

Every once in a while, she would tinker with some scrap pieces of junk that Hoffman had left out. It wasn’t unusual for her to experience one of these days, but what she wasn’t expecting was to see her associate's son, you, enter the workshop.

You weren’t too much younger than Amanda; you were in your twenties, and yet she still saw you as pure, untainted, and unknowing of the vile world. You were exceptionally talented in her eyes, possessing a natural talent for machinery and craftsmanship. The two of you had minimal interactions but were still friendly at that. In fact, you were the closest thing she had to a friend other than your father, John.

Your face held an open innocence and sincerity. You always treated her kindly, despite her less than flattering history with your father's work. If anything, Amanda liked your company, even if you were only around her to get your father a drink of water or his medication when he forgot to take it during the long mornings.

The more time you spent with each other, though, the more you seemed to gravitate towards her, asking John more questions about her and making up useless excuses to see her. You didn’t necessarily agree with your father's method of rehabilitation; in fact, you thought it was wildly distasteful and that his "apprentices" should never have had to become a part of his games, but nothing mattered when it came to Amanda.

It wasn’t like you’d never spoken to Mandy before, but something in your brain made it near impossible for you to even get full conversations out. You were so awkward and timid in every other way; your body language gave off the impression you wanted nothing to do with her, and your tendency to rant and babble made it even harder.Although if it were anyone else, she would have gotten frustrated, she kept a special place in her mind for you, reminding herself that she’s still human. Despite how hard it seemed to be, Amanda couldn’t bring herself to hate you for all the wrong reasons.

You were just too sweet for her to dislike you, and besides, you were a friend of hers and somebody she cherished.Your footsteps echoed as you walked into the cold, concrete room. The air around you was cold, but your body was warm, and your face was slightly flushed from the heat of the sun. You shivered as you crossed the floor. You had your hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket, looking at the ground in front of you as you passed through the room.

When you noticed Amanda sitting at a table with blueprints and metal, you stopped abruptly and gave a sheepish smile. “Hi Mandy.” Her head followed the sound first, her eyes still attentive to the sketches in front of her. She finally raised her head from the paper when you spoke again. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything." You rubbed the back of your neck as you apologized, looking away.

She sighed deeply before giving you a quick smile. “No, not at all. Take a seat if you’d like.” Her hair was up, her mid-length locks of brown hair being exchanged for a short, updo ponytail that was held up by a small clip. It hung loosely in front of her face, framing it perfectly. You sat down next to her, placing yourself directly across from her, your hands clasped together nervously in your lap, your eyes darting from side to side, trying to find something to focus on.

She placed her sketchbook and pencil on her lap. “What can I do for you, stranger?” Her lips curled in an awkward smile that quickly faded, huffing at her own humor. "I'm just trying to find something to do, really. I thought I’d come see my favorite girl.” You smiled, your gaze lingering on her face for a bit longer than necessary before you looked away. “That is so kind of you." She laughed lightly before continuing. “But really, I’m not doing much; John has Hoffman out finding some guy who stole medication from Homeward." Amanda picked up the piece of metal she had been working on and examined it closely before setting it back down on the table.

Your eyes lingered on her smile, a pink flush to your cheeks. “You know, it’s rude to stare at people.” Her voice was laced with lightheartedness, her tone teasing. A lump caught in your throat as you glanced back at her. “It’s just so hard not to stare when you’re so pretty, Amanda.” You leaned forward on your elbows, resting your chin in the palm of your hand.

Her cheeks turned a dark red, and her heart fluttered. Her mouth opened and closed silently. She shook her head softly and said, ‘no’, over and over until she broke the silence between the two of you. “I bet you think that I don’t see the way you stare at me or the way your eyes follow my movements; I see everything." She paused, her gaze locked on yours. “I know that you think of me at night, whenever you get lonely and need company.” She took a breath. “I can fix that." She leaned forward, her arms snaking up your shoulders and stripping you of your warm jacket. You didn’t protest, not even as her cold fingers slid over your skin. She pressed closer, letting her lips graze the shell of your ear. “Let me save you." She whispered against the skin of your ear before placing soft kisses along your jawline, trailing further down until she reached your neck. Your eyes drifted shut in pleasure as she pulled down the collar of your shirt and exposed the skin of your throat. Her lips traced circles around the sensitive spot as she kissed her way down your neck and chest. Amanda’s breathing quickened and her grip tightened as the woman continued to suck the tender flesh and leave marks along the sides of her neck. She gently bit your shoulder before running the tip of her tongue over it, causing you to let out a groan.

Amanda sucked harder, moving lower along the edge of your collarbone and then sucking gently into the hollow there. A whimper left you as she licked a circle around your clavicle, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Your hands clenched tightly into fists as you tried to hold back your moans. “I’ve wanted to make you mine since the day I met you. So pure and kind, what would John say if he saw his precious little boy being dumbed down to  nothing?" Her words made your breath hitch and your words slur. “Please, please. Please don’t stop; please make me feel good.” You begged in a whisper, biting your lip to keep from crying out.

The woman slowly moved upward, kissing along your cheek, down your jaw, across your neck, and finally settling down at your ear. “Anything for you, baby, but what can you do for me?” She took hold of your hands, dragging them slowly up her shirt, groping her boobs, and luring out a whine from her lips. Her chest was warm, making your hands hot and your face flush. Your hands moved down to her loose pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them to the floor. She began taking the rest of her clothes off, revealing her beautiful naked body, covered in goosebumps due to the sudden change in temperature. You grabbed hold of her bare ass, squeezing it softly, pulling it toward you, and rubbing her back, your nails scraping against her smooth skin.

She turned around, swiping everything off the table onto the floor with a large clatter and hopping onto the smooth, cold metal. Her legs wrapped around your waist, holding on tight. Your hands slid up and cupped her breasts, your thumbs massaging them. As you squeezed them slightly, you gasped. Her soft moans sent chills throughout your body. One of your hands traveled down to her thighs, spreading them and exposing her wet pussy.

Your thumb ran the length of her folds, stroking gently against her clit. She arched her back slightly, lifting her hips up and grinding into your touch as she dug her nails into the skin of your arms. Her moans were loud and desperate while your tongue made contact with her folds. She writhed against you, her back arching higher and higher into your touch as her breathing became more labored. “Oh god,” she panted, her fingers gripping your hair, pulling your head upwards, forcing your tongue deeper inside her, your hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her body closer to your mouth. Her fingernails raked your scalp as she squirmed beneath you, bucking her hips as hard as she could.

Her breath hitched and your name escaped her lips before she fell limp in your grasp, gasping harshly for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her body shaking violently. You continued to play with her, stroking the tip of her clit in circular motions, working her through her orgasm. She released a low moan as she came, her entire body shuddering as it worked its way down her body. As her eyes flickered open, they gazed at you with a mixture of lust, passion, and affection. "God, you’re so beautiful,” you breathed out to her as she straddled the table, reaching over and unbuckling your belt.

Her fingers pushed your trousers down, the fabric pooling at your ankles. With gentle fingers, she pushed your boxers down to your thighs, releasing your straining cock from the near-suffocating fabric. She lowered herself slowly over your dick, and you couldn’t help but gasp, your eyes closing involuntarily. “So tight,” you murmured breathlessly, pressing back against her, wanting more. She lifted herself up slightly, allowing you enough room.

She spread her lips wide as she let out a whimper. "God, your cock is so fucking big. I never knew you were such a disgusting little slut for me." Your eyes widened slightly, a small blush creeping across your cheeks as your face grew warmer. “I should’ve known you’d love to be degraded like this. You just love it, don’t you?” she smirked slyly, her husky voice dripping with lust as you ran your hand slowly up and down her stomach, caressing her soft breasts. She wrapped her legs around your waist, forcing your dick deeper inside of her, causing the both of you to let out a deep groan in sync, almost like two puzzle pieces that fit exactly together, your bodies merging and your souls becoming one. She let her head fall back against the metal, putting her arms behind her head as your thrusts quickened. Your teeth grazed her earlobe, nipping lightly as the coils in your stomach tightened. You tugged on her nipples, feeling the heat radiate between her thighs as you began slamming into her, giving her exactly what she desired.

You were in complete control of your body, and yet it felt as if she had taken over your mind, filling your thoughts with her and only her. You gripped her tighter, pumping faster and harder each time you slammed into her, leaving purple bruises as your hips snapped into her pelvic area, and sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. A moan slipped past your lips as Amanda’s grip on your dick tightened, her walls clenching around your cock.

You cried out her name loudly, burying your face into the crook of her neck, your lips trailing up towards her ear. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” She hummed, her voice muffled against your neck and collarbones while her hands found their way to your shoulders. "Mandy, please, I’m going to cum.” Your labored breathing made it hard to understand your words, and your stomach felt tight as your orgasm approached. “I want you to cum inside me; I want to be the one to claim you; taint your mind.” Her words pushed you to the edge, your warm cum spilling into her pussy, leaking out onto her inner thighs. Your body shook as you continued to pound into her, her own orgasm drawing close as you worked her to her second orgasm. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum. Such a good boy, doing all of this for me.” Her stomach snapped, her whines increasing in volume as her body shook uncontrollably, her cries mixing with your grunts.

Her nails dug into your back, her energy running out as she laid flat on the cool table, as opposed to the hot sweat on her body. Her breath was slow and steady as she came down from her high, her muscles relaxing as you finally stopped. You rested your forehead against hers, her hands resting on your shoulders, this time relaxed. “If I knew you could do that, I would’ve done this a lot sooner, kid.” She let out a huffed laugh. You smiled at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, placing a kiss on her forehead, and handing her your jacket to give her some form of protected modesty, even if you had just spent the last nearly thirty minutes pleasuring her. She slipped the jacket on and stood up, turning around to face you once again, leaning down, and kissing you deeply. “Let’s go get cleaned up; I don’t feel like staying sticky all day." You chuckled and nodded at her, slipping your hand into hers and lacing your fingers together as you headed to the door.

Your soft snores were all that were heard in your room as Mandy stroked her fingers through your hair. The sun filtered through the blinds and illuminated your sleeping figure. Large, heavy footsteps rang through the hallway as Amanda turned her head towards the sound of “Hi John.” She smiled and gave a little wave. “I welcome you into my home, give you refuge, and this is what I get in turn? This is a new low for you, Amanda.” John stated it blankly, looking away and walking away from the doorway. “New record, I guess.”