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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—”

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips.

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly.

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest.

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips.

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both.

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall.

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses.

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair.

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence.

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door.

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening.

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara.

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy.

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose.

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue.

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that.

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y.

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small.

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself.

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer.

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him.

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission.

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye.

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours.

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought.

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist.

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips.

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place.

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind.

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow.

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear.

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing.

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision.

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this.

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable.

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back.

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression.

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth.

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone.

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt.

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway.

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.”

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally.

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb.

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords.

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms.

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him.

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day.

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold.

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness.

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you.

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters.

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten.

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you.

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you.

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin.

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way.

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot.

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts.

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach.

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again.

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself.

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over.

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe.

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second.

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words.

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles.

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him.

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is.

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up.

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow.

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you.

“Really?”

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic.

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology.

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering.

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off.

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you.

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?”

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately.

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark.

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation.

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have.

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot.

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again.

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast.

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his.

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise.

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear.

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore.

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit.

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance.

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt.

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed.

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking.

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried.

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles.

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one.

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks.

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body.

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself.

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh.

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else.

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm.

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?”

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly.

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked.

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off.

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination.

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk.

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass.

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush.

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked.

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are.

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers.

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft.

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence.

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands.

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly.

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso.

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten.

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense.

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up.

He’s still perfect.

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear.

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit.

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him.

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent.

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him.

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod.

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately.

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging.

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth.

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths.

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle.

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever.

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest.

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely.

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours.

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times.

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you.

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment.

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin.

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you.

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows.

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders.

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again.

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish.

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are.

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance.

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly.

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous.

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for.

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly.

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time.

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you.

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two.

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you.

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours.

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you.

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre.

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in.

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static.

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak.

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern.

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good.

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling.

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you.

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound.

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good.

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums.

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him.

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses.

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster.

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect.

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face.

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear.

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies.

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are.

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt.

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine.

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe.

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure.

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him.

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good.

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it.

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him.

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps.

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you.

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward.

But it’s too much all combined.

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers.

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained.

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob.

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach.

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you.

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly.

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes.

“Hi.”

He smiles.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back.

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage.

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs.

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe.

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile.

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek.

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms.

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be.

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you.

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face.

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies.

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems.

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself.

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin.

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile.

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty.

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now.

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color.

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks.

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too.

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves.

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves.

You want the same.

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.”

part eight

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic

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2tarbell · 3 months ago

Note

happy birthday!! could i get vanilla birthday cake with crybaby!reader and “she’s so pretty, she still looks like an angel while i’m doing the most depraved and ungodly things to her”

- 🕷️ (if it’s available)

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

“good girl, right there, yeah?”

the drooling sounds of crybaby’s cunt swallowing the length of her boyfriend filled her frilly room. the baby blue decor seemed to judge her — being ruined in a space that was so precious. she could feel the beady eyes of her stuffed animals watching them. it should’ve felt wrong, but nothing wrong could make her feel so good.

the sex was always great with rafe. she thought he was heaven sent, so good with that mouth and seemingly all knowing when it came to her body. he knew all the spots to drag out animalistic whines and pearly tears from her.

it was all nasty words and sobs that filled the space. rafe’s large hands guided her movements roughly, pushing her to ride him in a way he liked. the realization that she was being used for his pleasure made crybaby clench around him. he rewarded her with a buck of his hips.

she mewled at the feeling, the sensation of him nudging her cervix making the tears fall harder and faster. fingers scratched at his toned chest, searching for any kind of stability.

“daddy, i— i can’t—“

a sting to her tear-stained cheek caused a choked sob to fall from her kiss bitten lips. the slap wasn’t even that hard — rafe tutted and gripped her chin, pulling her face down to his. body pliable and melting into him, her head all muddy from the contact of his palm to her cheek.

“yeah? you done, baby? tell me to stop.” he whispered, almost a threat. like he was daring her to back out.

but he knew her too well; silence broken by her little sniffles was all the response he got. those wet eyes stared at him pleadingly and pitifully. she wouldn’t say it — even if she had a gun to her head. too cock drunk to even function.

a wicked smirk etched its way onto rafe’s handsome features, resuming dragging her back and forth on his cock with her jaw still tightly in his grasp. her lips parted in a silent whine, he kissed her open mouth hotly.

“s’what i thought. you need this shit, huh? don’t fuckin’ tell me you can’t—”

she was a mess above him. hips canting when his tip kissed that perfect little spot, beginning to black out as stars dotted her vision. or maybe that was just the tears and mascara coating her lashes.

the sight had rafe pulsing inside of her, eyes flickering over her whole face and trying to commit her expression of pure ecstasy to memory. so beautiful.

his breath was ragged, a gravel texture to his voice that gave crybaby goosebumps, “love you… like an angel while ‘m doing dirty shit t’you. fuckin’… depraved and ungodly shit.”

she was hiccuping and writhing, almost to the precipice of that little death. from the way his navel continuously bumped her puffy clit. the pressure just right, his gaze so intense, his hands so rough—

crybaby came with a sob, babbling dumbly through ‘thank you’s and ‘i love you’s. her body was shivering and trying to squirm away from the blond boy. rafe caught her, working her through the sensations patiently. he pushed her onto her back and settled back into her warmth, pussy eagerly accepting his hard length with a squelch.

“get your lamb, there you go, atta girl—“

a soft white stuffed lamb was thrusted into her arms, limbs like jelly but clinging to the familiar source of comfort. her tears soaked into the plush of the animal and she bit the ear to muffle the choked cries that involuntarily left her mouth.

her pathetic little head lolled to the side into his forearm, nose nuzzling the warm skin. listening to the muffled sounds of his grunts and praises. she could feel him in her stomach — hazy eyes floating down to where they’re connected. a creamy ring collecting around his base and creating even worse sounds.

but crybaby couldn’t find it in herself to care anymore. their gazes connected and she felt the pleasure build once more. one objective on her mind:

it can’t get more ungodly than letting him fill her to the brim.

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parfaitblogs · 3 months ago

Note

(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"

it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked). word count: 3.1k a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!

You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended.

Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.

Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore.

And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas.

You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets.

You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.

Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug.

"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin.

"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet.

"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?"

"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."

"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."

"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."

"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."

You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down.

Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.

"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.

"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."

"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."

"It's really gross."

"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."

"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."

"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks.

"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"

Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you.

Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom.

Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was.

You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done.

You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining.

"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling.

"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."

He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile.

"Hi," you chirped.

"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"

"A kiss?"

"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly.

You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"

His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"

"I could give you the best head of your life."

He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you.

"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils.

"What if I want to?"

"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.

"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.

"You could do anything but that."

"So a handjob?"

"Or that."

"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."

"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."

"But it's not."

He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."

"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."

"Why not?"

His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face.

"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.

"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."

"If you're insisting—"

"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.

It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't.

Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.

You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further.

"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon.

"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs.

"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."

"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face.

"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know.

"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."

"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."

"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed.

You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them.

You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him.

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints.

"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers.

"Yes."

"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.

"Okay?" he parroted.

"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."

As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin.

"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless.

You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good.

You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too).

Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back.

Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you.

You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it.

Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further.

In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.

But not this much, and certainly not this quickly.

"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."

You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.

You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head.

You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched.

"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know.

You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over.

"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit."

His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him.

"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.

Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.

"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning.

Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.

You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.

It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands.

The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything.

It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own.

Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him.

"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"By a mile," he replied.

"Just one mile?"

"Maybe two."

Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."

He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."

"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."

"I believe that."

"You should."

"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?"

If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident.

"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs.

"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"

"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"

"Yes."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fluff

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luveline · 3 months ago

Note

could you please write something with bombshell reader and spencer where there is a misunderstanding and she thinks he is cheating on her?? or anything angsty? love your work and just want to tell you how you are the best author in this fandom! besos <333

thanks so much, hope this is okay! fem, 1.2k

You bend forward and breathe.

Rough breathing. Audibly disjointed, and panicked, and drawing attention. You clasp at the side of the counter in the office kitchen and everyone standing around you goes silent.

Someone must tell someone who tells someone, because Anderson makes his way to your side soon after. “Y/N, do you need me to get someone?” he asks.

“Hotch?” you ask.

“Sure. Do you want to sit down?”

Your mouth isn’t calibrated to your mind. Your answer takes time. “I’m okay.”

You blink hard. Your lashes are sticky, mascara wet in the corners and pulling on each other as you force yourself to keep them open. When Hotch collects you, it is with an immense tenderness, and a poorly concealed confusion. “Hey, come on,” he says, guiding you toward the office doors, “let’s find somewhere quieter.”

You’re three steps down the hallway when you stop. You cover your face with both hands.

Your entire world just got rocked… you don’t even know how to say it. You can’t stop seeing it, his hand on her shoulder, his head tilted to one side like he always does with you, like he’s going to kiss her cheek. And she’d just let him do it.

“What happened?”

“They were kissing.”

Hotch looks down at you patiently. “Who?”

“Spencer and JJ.” You swallow down bile. Your voice sounds far away, “They were so close…”

“Are you sure?”

“No… Just, it looked like they were. She had her arms around him, he…”

You blink hard again, but the panic, the agony remains. You could see it, Spencer kissing her, and it just tore you to pieces right then and there. How could he do that to you? The stereotypical you’d always expected to be above races through your head. Weren’t you too much to lose?

“They were too close,” you say more firmly.

“Alright,” Hotch says softly. Then, because he’s your friend, even if you’ve thrust him into an awkward position. “I can work this out for you, if you want. I can kill him for you if necessary.”

“That’s not funny,” you say, because even if it were, it’s way too soon.

“I’m not joking. If Spencer ever did that to you, I’d… well, I wouldn’t hurt him, but he would lose my respect, and he would lose yours. Do you believe Spencer would put that at risk?”

“You think I’m overreacting.”

Hotch gives you a look. Full Hotchner. Understanding, patient, a little humorous. “I honestly can’t imagine a world where Spencer does something that would hurt you, that’s all. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset.”

You realise after a few deep breaths that he was trying to drive you from a panic attack, and he did it successfully. You swallow a nervous lump.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I can kill him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you want to?”

“Depends on what I saw,” you mutter, turning away from the glass office doors as they open.

“Well… perhaps you can–”

“Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” Spencer interrupts, breathless as he slides around Hotch and takes your arm in his hand. “Angel, I need your help, urgently. JJ’s earring got caught in my hair, I’m pretty sure I’m bald.”

You squint at him, still a little breathless yourself.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking between you and Hotch with regret. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

“What did JJ do?” you ask.

“Angel?”

He squints. When you fail to offer a reason, he tips his head down to show you the top of his head. “Am I bald? She dropped her pencil case and I tried to grab it, and she yanked back. I tried to stop her from ripping it out, but she said I had to stop being a big baby.”

He laughs. Hotch lets out an audible breath.

“I’m hideous,” Spencer surmises from your silence.

“I didn’t really look.”

Spencer looks at Hotch. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

You send Hotch a look that says please, don’t.

“I just felt a bit panicked,” you confess, a half truth to spare your dignity.

“I brought her out here for some quiet,” Hotch says.

Spencer frowns and holds your arm again with more softness. “You did? Are you feeling better now? You know, the sudden onset of panic is often caused by a process called overbreathing, have you felt that happen to you recently? It’s accidental hyperventilation. Low carbon dioxide in the blood.” His frown deepens. “Unless it’s not that. Are you worried about something?”

You watch as his hand glides further up, his thumb rubbing into the soft fat of your upper arm.

“Worried about your hairline,” you mumble.

Look, you’ll tell Spencer eventually, maybe. But for now your head hurts and you really had almost spun yourself into an anxiety attack, and you need the rest, and meeting his eyes isn’t easy.

If he were lying about the earring, you’d be able to tell. If he’d kissed JJ, the guilt would be pouring off of him.

“I can trust you to look after her?” Hotch asks.

“When can’t you?” Spencer asks sincerely.

Footsteps. A door opening.

You and Spencer alone, his voice warm with concern. “Are you okay? Really okay?”

“Can you hug me?”

“Sure I can.” He slips his arms through yours and pulls you in. “Do you need something? Listening to music can help, I have my headphones on my desk. Or we can just– walk.” His hand spread wide over your shoulder. “You’re shaking.”

“I am?”

“Just a little…”

You try your best to stand completely still.

“Oh,” he says softly, pulling you with more force toward his chest, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you weren’t feeling okay today. But it’ll be okay, I promise. I got you.”

It’s not often you feel like the smaller person in your relationship, and he doesn’t make you feel small, but the depth of his promise gives him this bigness that dulls the panic. Spencer… he really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You aren’t at fault for thinking they were too close, but there’s an explanation, and for now that’s enough to make you feel better.

“How much hair did she rip out, sweetheart?” you murmur, leaning back just far to see his face, not wanting to disturb the stable quiet. “Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Honestly I’m more worried about you than my hair.”

“Can I explain it to you later?”

“You’ll sleep over?” he asks, lips thinning into a smile.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says.

You close your eyes as he cups your face with both hands. Later, when you tell him, he isn’t offended, just sorry. Necessary or not, he apologises and holds you with so much tenderness you’re assured again that Spencer hurting you would only ever be an accident.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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smileysuh · 6 months ago

Text

truth serum

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. When you’d taken this job as a handler, it hadn’t been a babysitting gig. You’d signed on to work with Seungcheol because he was supposed to be one of the best agents… supposed to be. There’d been a time, three months ago, when he’d completed a job with flying colors. The two of you had celebrated at a hotel in Paris after the success, and after two bottles of champagne, you’d actually thought you were starting to get to know the guy. But whatever inklings of a gentleman you’d seen that night had disappeared soon after, and things have been up in the air ever since. His man whoring ways are at an all-time high, and his judgment has been questionable, to say the least. Now he’s gone and gotten himself captured, and you can’t help but fear the worst.

tw/cw. Seungcheol gets truth-serumed and a little beat up, unprotected sex, dirty talk, dominant Seungcheol, power dynamics, praise, one hint of degradation that’s quickly squashed, breast/nipple play, fingering, oral, foreplay in the kitchen, bdsm subthemes, spanking as a punishment, pain kink, multiple reader orgasms, creampie/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) angel eyes.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.6k

🍭 aus. Secret agent au, handler reader, coworker au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you for being patient with me this month on my svt posting for June! My birthday is on the 25th and your smiley has been busy- so grateful I could get this out, even without a teaser post :) I don't know anything about actual secret agents, but this was a fun fanfic idea I had and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did :)

“I’m just going to go talk to her.”

You hate how nonchalant Seungcheol sounds, hate how easily he can be swayed by pretty women, even while out on jobs. It’s your responsibility to keep him in check, the little angel on his shoulder, and in his ear. “Don’t do it,” you warn him.

“Her husband’s the target, from what I’ve seen, she’s harmless,” the agent counters.

“How easily swayed you are by pretty women, and need I remind you this isn’t the first time you’ve let a person of interest’s wife become your focus.”

“Careful, Honey, for a moment there it sounded like you were jealous.”

You’re watching Seungcheol through the casino’s live footage, a stream you’d easily hacked for the operation at hand. He’s leaning against the bar, all suave in dress pants and a white button-up that he’s left open just enough to show his prominent chest-

“That’s your third drink,” you note, changing the topic, “don’t let it cloud your judgment, Angel Eyes.”

“We both know I can hold my liquor,” Seungcheol insists, raising his glass and sending a wink toward the camera before he downs the Old Fashioned. “I’m just going to go talk to her, she could give good intel.”

You let out a deep sigh. Sometimes, being Seungcheol’s handler can be a pain in the ass. Does he ever listen to you? Not usually. Does he get the job done, though? Most of the time.

“Trust me,” Seungcheol says, voice lowering. “I’m not going to do what you think I’m going to do.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair while you scan the screens in front of you. “Seduce her James Bond style and compromise this entire thing?”

“Maybe only half of that.”

God, he’s such a womanizer, but with a face like his, and the perks that come with his job, he can afford to be.

“If this goes sideways, don’t expect me to bail you out of it.” you warn him.

“Honey, bailing me out is your job.”

You hate it when Seungcheol goes out of your visuals, and entering a hotel room with a target’s wife was not on the itinerary tonight. For the first ten minutes, you’d sat anxiously, listening in on his smooth-talking, when the woman had suggested they take things to the bedroom, part of you had wondered if you should call this whole thing off and let Seungcheol do what he always does: fuck the hot wife and sort things out later.

But when you hear a male voice, and a startled, “Who is this?” from Seungcheol, you’re glad you’d stayed anxiously glued to your computer.

A faint, “Friend of my husband,” said in a nonchalant female tone, sets you off immediately, and you’re grabbing your phone to get backup support before you can even think.

You try to take deep breaths while you listen to what sounds like a fight taking place on Seungcheol’s end, and suddenly, the wire goes dead. Now, there are no sounds, only the racing of your own heart and the blood rushing through you.

“What’s going on?” Your supervisor's voice makes you jump, and you turn to see Jeonghan standing there with Hansol, another handler.

“Cheol made a move on his target’s wife, went back to her room, but the wife brought friends. The wire is dead.”

“Fuck,” Jeonghan groans, “This is the third time this has happened to him.”

“I tried reminding him of that,” you say, your voice raising with anxiety.

Hansol offers you a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. He takes care of an agent named Seungkwan, and while Seungkwan gets into his own messes, he’s not the type to go after married women in the middle of a job.

Jeonghan’s leaning over your computer now, and he brings up the map tracker you have on Seungcheol. “I’m sending this location to another agent we have in the area,” he tells you, quickly taking the reigns of the fuck up that’s just happened.

“It’s Wonwoo, isn’t it?” you sigh. “It’s always Wonwoo cleaning up Seungcheol’s messes.”

“Yes, it’s Wonwoo,” Jeonghan admits. “We made sure he’d be in the wings tonight in case something like this happened.”

“God, this isn’t good-” you groan.

“No,” Jeonghan responds, “It’s not. After tonight I’ll have to have a serious talk with Seungcheol, and a serious talk with you about reassignment if we decide Seungcheol is a liability.”

Your heart lurches in your chest.

When you’d taken this job as a handler, it hadn’t been a babysitting gig. You’d signed on to work with Seungcheol because he was supposed to be one of the best agents… supposed to be. There’d been a time, three months ago, when he’d completed a job with flying colors. The two of you had celebrated at a hotel in Paris after the success, and after two bottles of champagne, you’d actually thought you were starting to get to know the guy. But whatever inklings of a gentleman you’d seen that night had disappeared soon after, and things have been up in the air ever since. His man whoring ways are at an all-time high, and his judgment has been questionable, to say the least. Now he’s gone and gotten himself captured, and you can’t help but fear the worst.

After a harrowing two hours, you find yourself in the med section of the agency compound. Wonwoo is stationed outside of Seungcheol’s room, and he stands straighter as you approach. “Hey, Honey,” he says, using your codename even though there’s really no reason for it right now.

“Wonwoo- how is he?” You anxiously look toward the door Wonwoo is guarding with his body.

Although you’d been connected to the whole ‘rescue Seungcheol operation,’ you’re still buzzing with anxiety. It’s unexplainable, and definitely bordering on unacceptable given the line of work you’re in, but damn it, you can’t help but care for the man you handle every day.

“Jeonghan’s with him right now,” Wonwoo responds smoothly.

Your heart thunders even louder in your ribcage. Jeonghan had mentioned Seungcheol being a liability- is he getting fired right now?

Part of you aches to be with him, to defend his stupid behaviour- but you know it’s not your place, besides, what would you even say? You’d told Seungcheol not to go after the target’s wife, and he’d done it anyway, which shows a lack of regard for handler instructions.

Seungcheol has become a liability, and you hate that things have come to this.

“What do you think is going to happen?” you ask.

Wonwoo shrugs. “That’s above my paygrade.”

He’s awfully stoic, even for a spy, and while it can be intriguing at times, right now, his deflections only frustrate you more.

You let out a sigh. “What if I asked you to guess what’s going to happen?”

Wonwoo looks at you for a moment. “I’d guess Seungcheol will be put on a break.”

“A break,” you repeat. “Like… a permanent one?”

The spy can only shrug again, a nonchalant motion that’s way too disinterested for your liking.

Jeonghan’s been trying to talk you into working as Wonwoo’s handler for a while now, and although you know Wonwoo would be much less of a hassle than Seungcheol, you can’t bare to tear yourself away from the spy whose messes you’ve been helping clean up for over a year.

Despite Seungcheol’s massive ego, and his magnetic attraction toward trouble, there’s something about him that makes you want to care for him. Sure, he never listens, especially when you give him advice about women, but Seungcheol has a certain something about him- something that you won’t give up easily.

Before you can talk further with Wonwoo, the med room door opens and Jeonghan steps out. He lets out a deep sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

You hold your breath, waiting for your boss to give you instructions.

“This is a shit show,” Jeonghan says finally.

Neither you nor Wonwoo verbally agree with him, but brief eyecontact between the two of you makes it known what you’re both thinking.

Jeonghan addresses you next. “I’m guessing you want to go in there and talk to him.”

You can only nod.

“Look, it might not be the best idea, but fuck it.” Jeonghan uncrosses his arms, looking at you with a steady expression. “They gave Seungcheol some kind of truth serum. I don’t know how long it will be in effect, but I do know he’s vulnerable right now. I probably shouldn’t let you in there- but… I’m just going to walk down the hall to get a coffee, and if you happen to slip through the door then so be it. I didn’t see anything, and since Wonwoo is coming with me, he didn’t either.”

You stare in shock for a moment, unsure what to say. There’s nothing to be said, and when Jeonghan dispurses, Wonwoo is quick to follow.

You turn to the door, and after a deep breath, you slip inside the med room.

Seungcheol is lying in a hospital bed. His lip is battered and there’s a blossoming purple bruise around his left brow, but other than that, he looks remarkably well.

“Honey?” He sits up when you enter, eyes widening in shock.

“Cheol-” Your voice cracks as you take the seat next to the bed, and while part of you wants to reach for his hand, you hold yourself back.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, and those are two words you’ve never heard from him before. “You were right… about the wife.”

“That’s not important right now,” you sigh.

“It is. You’re my handler, and I didn’t listen to you, and that was wrong. If I had listened, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.”

You study him. You know he’s vulnerable, Jeonghan said as much, and with a truth serum impeding his ability to lie or evade questions, you want to be careful- but you also want answers, answers that you can only truly get right now.

“Why’d you do it?” you ask finally. “This time, and all the other times. You always go after the women, and I thought it was because you found it easy- seduction is what you’re good at, but- I don’t understand how you don’t see how dangerous it is.”

“Honey-”

“They’re thinking about reassigning me to Wonwoo, and before that happens, I just need to know why, Cheol. When you have the potential to be the best agent in this company, why are you always so ready to jump ship and fuck any rich married woman even though you know it will fuck everything up?”

“They can’t reassign you to Wonwoo!” Seungcheol sits up abruptly, and the heart rate monitor next to him beeps a sign of warning at his increasing pulse.

“They can do whatever they want, you should be worried about your own job. You don’t even listen to me as your handler half the time, maybe you should be with someone you actually respect.”

“I respect you,” Seungcheol blurts out.

“It doesn’t feel like you do.”

“I do,” he insists. “I-” Seungcheol’s voice cracks. “I get with women to distract myself.”

“Distractions in this line of work can be fatal.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he snaps, making you go silent. “Maybe I have a death wish.”

“Cheol-”

“Stop calling me Cheol.”

“Stop calling me Honey.”

“No.”

You glare at him, anger bubbling and inspiring you to dive deeper into your questioning, despite the fact that you know this isn’t a morally good idea. “Why do you need a distraction?”

“Because you’re a distraction. Your voice in my ear- it distracts me.”

“Maybe reassignment is a good idea.”

“You’re not being reassigned.” Seungcheol’s voice is practically a growl, and you’ve never seen this side of him.

“Why not?”

His expression breaks. “Because I need you.”

“You clearly don’t.”

“I do,” he insists. “I know I’m not good at showing it- but I do, I need you.”

“Cheol-”

“Honey.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because-” Seungcheol lets out a sigh, and he punches at the hospital bed. “Look, I’m scared, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Scared of what?”

“Of falling for you.”

“Huh?” Now you’re confused. You’re staring at this lady killer agent, the sexiest man you’ve ever met, and you can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “But- all the women you go after-”

“Distractions from you, from the voice in my head.” Seungcheol swallows thickly. “That night in Paris…”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you hold your breath for the next words about to leave him.

“That night- fuck, I’ve never met someone like you before. I’ve never felt-” he bites at his lip, and you wince, knowing it must hurt to put pressure on the wound there. “I got with those other women to try to convince myself that I didn’t need you. I didn’t need your guidance, I didn’t need your care, I didn’t need you- but… I do need you.” Seungcheol meets your gaze. “I’ve needed you more than I’ve ever needed anyone, and it scares me.”

Aside from the heart rate monitor beeping through the room, you swear you could hear a pin drop as you stare at Seungcheol, trying to register everything he’s just said.

“I-”

“It’s my turn to ask a question now,” Seungcheol says. “How do you feel about me?”

“I think…” You swallow thickly. “I never understood why I stayed working with you after everything, but… maybe I understand now. Maybe I need you too.”

“Maybe?” Seungcheol flashes you a sexy smirk, and it makes you look away, hating how he makes you feel, hating how inappropriate this whole thing is.

“I’m definitely going to have to be reassigned now,” you tell him.

“What? Why?”

“You know why. This,” you point between the two of you, “this has been the liability the whole time. We’re the liability, Cheol.”

He sits and thinks about it for a moment. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You let out a laugh.

“Just… don’t work with Wonwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You can’t help but laugh at the request.

“Because I think he’s into you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first,” you tease, standing up so you can sit on the bed, wanting to be closer to Seungcheol. “Besides,” you pinch at his chin, inspecting the wounds on his face, “Wonwoo might actually listen to me.”

“Honey,” Seungcheol slaps your hand away, instead grabbing at the back of your neck to bring your lips dangerously close to his, “don’t test me right now.”

“Or what?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his gaze dipping down to your lips. “Jeonghan’s putting me on a two-week mental health break or some shit, this isn’t even a question of ‘or what’ anymore. While I’m on leave, I’m going to fuck you stupid. I’m going to make it so you can’t even leave the fucking bed. I’m going to show you that I’m not the kind of man who receives instructions, I give them. Think you can handle it?”

God, your core is throbbing from his words alone, and you can’t muster up any for yourself. You can only nod, staring at the beautiful, bruised, stubborn man in front of you.

“You should get out of here before I bend you over this fucking bed and get us both fired.” Seungcheol releases you, leaning back to put distance between your lips.

“Do you think you’ll be released tonight?” you ask, voice quiet.

“Are you that eager to see what I’m made of, honey?” Seungcheol lets out a laugh.

“Maybe.”

“Yes, I think I’ll be out of here soon, after this stupid serum wears off. You know, this whole interrogating me while I’m vulnerable thing isn’t going to go unpunished.”

“I hope you do your worst,” you challenge him.

The agent scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”

“Hypocrite,” you grin, standing and heading to the door. “Call me when you’re out, then you can take me home.”

You’re waiting by Seungcheol’s car in the parking garage when he comes out of the elevator. He’s dressed in black dress pants and the same white button-up he’d been wearing hours earlier. The collar is speckled with blood, the buttons undone to reveal his broad chest- his suit jacket is held in a fist, and he’s never looked sexier.

He doesn’t say anything as he approaches, closing the distance between the two of you. His hand finds your cheek, and his eyes stare into your own, your lips only inches apart. Then, he’s kissing you for the first time, a desperate, needy kiss that sets your entire body on fire.

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your chest flush to his own. Your mouth opens instinctively, accepting the tongue that strokes by your teeth.

Seungcheol’s hand moves down to your ass, and he squeezes you roughly, pushing you back against the black jeep wrangler he’s been driving recently. The motion has you moaning against his lips, and Seungcheol breaks the kiss with a grin. His forehead rests against your own, and you both struggle to catch your breath.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he tells you.

“Me too,” you admit, swallowing thickly. “So… your place?”

“My place,” he confirms, reaching behind you to open the door to his car. He grabs your hand to help you up into the tanked-out jeep, then gently shuts the door behind you.

Your heart is racing. You can’t believe you’re actually doing this.

A couple of hours ago, you’d feared the worst, and now, you desperately need good, dirty, wet sex with Seungcheol to take your mind off the anxiety that’s still coursing through you.

“So,” you clear your throat as he pulls out of the parking garage, “did you talk to Jeonghan?”

Seungcheol laughs, reaching to hold your hand while he drives. “Yes, I talked to Jeonghan.”

“Did you mention me?”

“I mentioned you a lot. Mentioned you the first time he came in to talk. He asked the same kinds of questions you did, turns out you’re the only one who was completely oblivious to the way I felt about you.”

“Well… I mean… you’re the agent, not me. Figuring out secrets is your job, I just do handler stuff.” Your skin heats at the idea that others saw his affection for you, but you’d been so blind.

“He agrees that this thing between us, whatever it is, it’s the liability, not either of us alone. He’s putting me on rest, like I said, and when you’re up for it, he’d like to reassign you to some new hire, this wizz kid named Dino or something.”

Although you know reassignment is the best thing in this situation, it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Can you really trust someone else to be Seungcheol’s handler? God, you’re feeling downright territorial of this man already-

“Yeah, I’m not too happy about it either,” Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his thumb along your hand. “Some new kid getting you in his ear- he better not fall in love with you.”

“Did you fall in love with me?” you ask.

“Truth serum has worn off, honey,” Seungcheol grins, grinning and bringing your hand to his lips. “But yes, as cliche and stupid as it sounds, I did. And don’t worry, you don’t have to say it back, I know you were all hot and bothered by me too.”

You scoff loudly.

“What was it you said earlier? I ‘find seduction easy’? Don’t pretend we’re not in the same boat here, honey.”

“God, I hate you.” You try to tear your hand away from him but he’s unrelenting.

“Liar. You love me. Love me so much you’re going to let me rearrange your guts.”

“Don’t be so vulgar,” you chastise him.

Seungcheol casts you a sideways glance. “You’re not my handler anymore, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Your pussy throbs at his words. The dynamic between the two of you has always been a push-pull. You were supposed to be the one giving orders, but it never felt… correct. You’d bet your life that soon, when Seungcheol has you pressed to his bed, whispering all sorts of dirty commands in your ear- well, you have no doubts that will feel more natural.

“As dominant as you like to pretend you are as a handler, I think we both know you’d rather be the submissive,” Seungcheol points out. “I can’t wait to see how good you’ll be for me.”

“Cheol-”

“Look at you, honey, a little dirty talk and you’re already a blabbering mess. Can’t find the words, can you?”

“Fuck.”

“You’re adorable,” he grins, shaking his head a little. “You’ll be good for me, I know you will be.”

You’re kissing Cheol the moment you get into his penthouse- or… is he kissing you? It’s hard to tell who moved first, all you know is that one thing leads to another and suddenly he’s hoisting you onto a kitchen counter, his hands already unbuttoning your pants.

You break your heated kiss to take a breath, looking up at the ceiling while he quickly attaches his lips to your neck. “Cheol- this is going a bit fast.”

“Is it?” He tugs your pants down, grinning against your throat. “Do you want me to slow down?”

His thumb finds your clit through your panties and you let out a whimper, clinging onto his strong shoulders.

You can’t even think right now, especially not when he begins to draw small circles against your sensitive bud, pulling away from you so he can watch your face. You open your eyes to look at him, loving the intensity in his expression.

“Tell me to slow down,” he says.

You take a breath, trying to process his words. They’d sounded like a command, so, begrudgingly, you whisper, “Slow down.”

“Too bad, I don’t listen to what you tell me to do, remember?”

He’s such a shit-

A shit that gets onto his knees to immediately burry his face between your thighs, tugging your panties to the side roughly so his tongue can make direct contact with your already throbbing pussy.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper loudly, threading your fingers through his silky dark hair, your legs already shaking around his head.

“Been thinking about what you’d taste like,” Seungcheol muses, pressing a sloppy kiss to your inner thigh. “Knew your pussy would be perfect for me.”

God, his words are getting to you, your mind completely blank of a comeback as Seungcheol dives back into his task, his lips wrapping harshly around your clit.

All you can do is gasp and whine for him, writhing on his kitchen counter while he works you closer and closer to an orgasm with his tongue alone.

When he pulls away to drag two fingers up your slit, your body tenses in anticipation.

“Relax,” Seungcheol chuckles, looking up at you with that handsome grin of his, “It’s only me, honey. You’re comfortable with me…” he pushes his digits into your core, cocking a brow, “right?”

“Yes, fuck-”

“Yes, what?” He crooks his fingers, hitting your gspot and making you cry out.

“Yes, I’m comfortable with you!” you belt out, falling back onto the table so you don’t have to hold yourself up anymore. You want to feel everything he’s giving you- want him to have your full focus.

“Good girl. I think you deserve a reward for admitting that, don’t you?”

You can feel Seungcheol’s breath on your clit while he pumps his fingers, abusing the sweet spot that already has you close to the edge.

“Yeah, yes- I deserve a reward-”

Seungcheol pulls away abruptly, landing a slap to your pussy that has you squealing, your thighs closing around his hand. Your eyes snap open and you stare at him in shock.

“That sounded like a command, honey,” Seungcheol says, prying your legs apart. “Thought we agreed I’d be in charge tonight, and you know I hate being told what to do.”

“I-” you swallow thickly. “Please? Please let me cum?”

“Let you cum?” he taunts, thumb finding your clit but not applying nearly enough pressure.

“Please… make me cum?” you suggest, wanting - more than anything - to say the right thing for him.

“Because you asked so nicely.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink, and then his fingers are slipping into your wet core again, picking up where he left off. His lips return to your clit, which is practically buzzing from the slap, and before you even know it, he has you at the edge.

“Please make me cum,” you whimper desperately. “Fuck, I’m so close- please make me cum, I’ve tried to be a good girl for you- please-”

He hums a sound of confirmation, and the buzzing vibration on your clit is enough to get you there. Your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers, your back arching as waves of pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl against his broad shoulders, sounds leaving you uncensored as you fill his apartment with cries of relief.

You’re throbbing, your pussy practically dripping at this point, but Seungcheol doesn’t let up. Even when you tug on his hair to try to pull him away, he refuses to move. He finger fucks you and sucks on your clit, ignoring the way your thighs close around him, working you through your high all the way until the end.

Seungcheol finally relents when your pussy stops contracting around him, and you let out a massive sigh when he pulls away. You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet, not when you’re still feeling the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.

You feel him begin to unbutton your shirt and his lips find the swell of your breasts as soon as it’s open. He’s soft in his kisses, gentle, tender even. “Have you come back down to earth yet, honey?” he asks, nuzzling up to your throat.

“Yeah- that was just, really good,” you let out a small laugh, threading your fingers through his hair to keep him tucked to your chest.

“That was just the appetizer, you still haven’t had the main course.”

“God, you’re so-”

“So what?” he teases. “Handsome? Charming? Lovable?”

“Sure of yourself,” you breathe.

“Let me show you something,” he prompts, reaching for your hand. He pulls away from your chest to stand up straight again, guiding your fingers to the front of his pants. His cock is straining against the fabric, and you open your eyes to see Seungcheol grinning when you gasp at how large he is. “When a man has a cock like mine, he can afford to be sure of himself.”

You shiver at his words, and it makes Seungcheol laugh. “Come on, let me take you to bed.”

He hauls you up before throwing you over his shoulder, landing a gentle spank on your ass.

“Remember when I told you I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t even be able to leave the bed?” Seungcheol prompts as he tosses you onto the mattress. “You better get comfy, honey.”

“I think…” you feel your daring side beginning to surface, eyes dipping to watch Seungcheol’s skilled fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt, “I think I also remember something about you telling me my truth serum interrogation wouldn’t go unpunished.”

The agent pauses, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You’re cute, honey.”

“Yeah?” You reach behind your body, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slip to the wayside. “How so?”

Seungcheol’s pupils dilate, his eyes becoming dark, lustful pools.

He doesn’t bother to answer your question, shrugging his shirt off before leaning over you, his hands pressing into the bed to box you in while his lips find yours. It’s a needy kiss, his tongue gliding out to meet your own, but you don’t mind at all.

You cup his face, moaning against him, fingers teasing over his strong shoulders.

Seungcheol is built, even for an agent. Certain men who work with you have leaner physiques, and Seungcheol is not one of them. He’s all big and broad, with lines of muscle that you could trace for hours if given the chance.

His lips begin to trail down to your throat, and you let out a whimper of anticipation when his breath fans across your pebbled nipples.

However, when he gets to your breasts, Seungcheol avoids sucking on the most sensitive spots. He looks up at you, grinning. “I think it’s time for that punishment now.”

“Yeah?” You can’t help the excitement that bubbles through you.

“I want you on your knees, ass up, and take off your panties while you’re at it.”

You know what’s coming when you follow through with the command. The cool air in the room feels nice on your newly exposed, hot core, and you make a show of everything, arching your back.

You can hear Seungcheol let out a deep breath, his hands ghosting over your ass.

“If this hurts too much, let me know.”

“Do your worst,” you counter, wiggling your hips and resting your face against the bed sheets, exhaling deeply in preparation.

You expect a harsh smack, but instead, Seungcheol presses a soft kiss to your right cheek. “I’m punishing you because you took advantage, you know that, right?”

“Uh huh, part of me knew I was being bad interrogating you while you were truth-serumed, but part of me needed to know what your answers would be.”

“Between us, I’m glad you asked the questions you did, or you might not be in my bed right now.”

“I’m glad too,” you confess. “Now, come on Angel Eyes, punish me.”

“I love a woman who takes what she deserves with grace.”

“After this, I deserve your cock.”

“Do you now?” Seungcheol lets out an amused chuckle, grabbing your ass with both hands and squeezing.

“Maybe you deserve my pussy,” you muse thoughtfully.

“Now that’s something I can definitely get behind,” he agrees. “Count these out for me, honey, I’ll give you ten.”

The first smack makes you recoil in surprise, the sound flooding your senses before the sharp pain that blossoms across your skin.

“One,” you announce, balling your hands into the bed sheets.

“How did that feel?” he asks, gently smoothing his palm across the still-burning flesh.

“Good.”

The next hit is a little harder and it makes you whimper, but you do your best to stay steady, unmoving, ready to take what you deserve. “Two.”

Three and four come on your other cheek, and you’re thankful for the reprieve, but smack number five returns to the first side he’d battered, and it stings even more now. However, it’s a pleasantly hot sensation, and your core throbs knowing you’re halfway through your punishment, all the more close to your reward.

“You look like you’re enjoying this too much,” Seungcheol muses, groping your ass again, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

“Maybe I am,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder at the agent.

He grins down at you, lifting a hand- your body flinches involuntarily, and Seungcheol’s smile widens. “Getting sensitive already, huh?”

“Yes,” you admit.

The next slap lands on your pussy, something you hadn’t been expecting, and a squeal of delight erupts out of you at the sensation on your clit.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh,” you nod, clenching the bed sheets even tighter.

“How's your clit feeling after one orgasm?” he prompts, thumb finding the sensitive bud and rubbing it in small circles.

“Feels so good,” you whimper.

“You’re practically dripping, honey, didn’t take you for a pain slut.”

“Be nice,” you chastise him.

“Oh?”

Another smack lands on your ass and you dutifully call out “Six.”

“You don’t like being called a little pain slut?” he asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “Please call me nice things.”

“Okay, honey, I can do that,” he concedes, and the next spank isn’t as hard as the last. “You’re being so good for me. We’re almost done.”

“Can’t wait for you to fuck me, I’ve been waiting so long-”

“We’ll get there,” Seungcheol promises, leaning down to press a kiss to your lower back. When he pulls away, number “Eight” comes quickly thereafter.

Your skin is buzzing with anticipation now, and you’re nearly writhing against the bed, but you do your best to be as still as possible while Seungcheol completes this punishment focused foreplay.

After smack number nine, you hear Seungcheol undo his belt, and it takes everything inside of you not to turn around and get a good look at his cock.

He smacks his length gently against your ass, and you let out a small, “Ten?”

He laughs. “No, honey, this is ten.”

The sound of the slap echoes through his room, the hardest of them all so far, and you release a strangled cry, your ass on fire from where he’d hit you.

“That was the pain, now here’s the pleasure.” He rubs his cock through your wet folds, and slips the tip inside, stretching you out wonderfully. The sensation distracts from your sore bum, and your whimper becomes a moan as he drives deeper and deeper into you. “Tell me you like it.”

“I love it,” you blurt, already pushing back toward him in an effort to feel everything.

You’re not sure how big he is, only that he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, but after the tension of your punishment, and the orgasm before that, your pussy greedily swallows up everything he has to give until he’s flush to your still stinging ass.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol cusses, gently grabbing at your hips. “How’s that feel?”

“I feel so full,” you tell him, pussy fluttering around his cock.

“I’ll make you feel fuller,” he promises.

“Yeah?”

“You’re on birth control?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then I’ll definitely fill you up, mark this pussy as all mine, are you okay with that?”

“More than okay with it,” you moan.

“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol praises you, beginning to thrust.

“Fuck-” you whimper, loving the feeling of his cock dragging along your inner walls.

Your eyes are closed, your focus entirely on Seungcheol as he starts to fuck you, rougher and rougher until his balls are slapping against your clit with each motion.

“Your pussy feels so good,” he tells you, grip tightening on your hips. “It’s like you were made for me, honey.”

The idea causes a visceral reaction, your entire body thrumming with pleasure. You can only moan in response, beginning to move back so you can meet each one of his thrusts.

“And this ass-” One of Seungcheol’s hands moves to cup your sensitive flesh, making you groan even louder. “Fucking perfect. Rub your clit for me, want you to cum again.”

Your hand is shaky as you bring it between your legs, finding your sensitive clit. Your core clenches desperately around Seungcheol and he lets out a deep moan of appreciation.

“That’s my good girl, being so good for me. So good at taking orders.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh. It’s as if things were always meant to be this way, you were meant to let him be in control, not the other way around. This feels so much more natural than you telling him what to do ever did.

“Don’t laugh,” Seungcheol chastises you, fucking you even harder. “I’m trying to be nice to you, like you wanted.”

“I just-” you groan when his cock slams into your gspot. “It was never supposed to be me telling you what to do.”

“I’m glad we agree on something,” Seungcheol muses, his motions slowing ever so slightly. “Fuck this, I want to see you.”

He pulls out of your pussy, flipping you onto your back. The contact of the bed against your ass makes you groan, but the sight of Seungcheol’s perfect body looming over you has you distracted less than a moment later.

His cock is big… cut, curving slightly to the left, with a prominent vein that you want to trace with your tongue-

He presses the head of his length to your pussy, easing himself into you while he positions you in missionary. When he’s fully inside of you again, he meets your gaze, then he looks down at your lips.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers before pressing his mouth to yours.

You grab at his strong shoulders, getting lost in the kiss as he begins to fuck you again, the whole bed shaking with the power of his thrusts.

You’ve never made sounds like this in bed before. You’re moaning like a whore, but Seungcheol eats up every whimper, his tongue gliding against your own.

Your fingers thread through his hair, keeping him close as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

The agent pulls away, breathing heavily. “I can feel you clenching, honey, gonna cum again?”

“Gonna cum on your big cock,” you tell him.

“Yeah?”

One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers applying pressure to your clit.

You whimper loudly, back arching off the bed. Seungcheol takes the opportunity to finally draw your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing over the sensitive bud.

You gasp, body on fire from all the wonderful sensations. “I’m so close-” you tell him.

“Then cum for me,” he murmurs, rubbing your clit even harder. “Cum on my cock.”

It only takes a few more seconds for you to follow through with his command, the cord snapping in your stomach as your release takes over. Your pussy clamps down on Seungcheol, and when he lets out a groan, you know your body is milking him for every drop of cum that he has.

His thrusts have become sloppier, more erratic, deeper- and each one has him kissing your cervix, which is a delightful feeling.

You hold him to your breast through your high, and he diligently sucks on your nipple, fucking you until he can’t fuck you anymore.

Finally, Seungcheol slumps down against you, applying some of his weight over you like a weighted blanket.

He’s panting hard against your breasts, cheek pressed to the center of your chest.

“Your heart is going wild, honey,” he muses after a moment.

All you can do is laugh, unable to find the words just yet after the power of your release.

Instead, you stroke his hair, and Seungcheol lets out a murmured moan, nuzzling closer to you. “I do love you, you know.”

“I know.”

He chuckles. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Take me on a date first,” you tease.

“Tomorrow, if you can still walk, I’ll take you out.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He presses a kiss to your sternum. “If you can’t walk, I’ll bring the date to you.”

“How romantic,” you say sarcastically.

“Don’t start with me, honey,” he warns.

“I’m not starting anything,” you defend yourself with a giggle.

He looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “Sure you’re not.”

You lean down to kiss him gently, loving how domestic this whole thing has turned. But of course, ever the sex fiend, Seungcheol quickly ruins it. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again.”

You can’t help but shake your head. “You promise?”

“If you’re going to talk back like this, make it five.”

He’s such a fuck, but you kind of love him.

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I know recently I've been doing a lot of short and sweet fics, hoping for a longer one next month :)

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🔮 preview. “We tried letting you be in control,” he responds, pushing your legs together as he straddles you from behind. “It wasn’t as fun as me being in control though."

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, dom/sub themes, powerplays, Seungcheol tries to be a little submissive, he’s not great at following directions, dirty talk, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, blow job, mention of deep throating, nipple play/nipple pinching, creamipie, cumming together, etc… I petnames. (hers) honey

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 175

🌙 starring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

bonus

“Hey, big guy,” you grin as you enter the apartment, eyes finding Seungcheol sitting on the living room couch. “How was your day?”

He pauses his show to look at you, flashing a tired smile. “It was okay.”

“Yikes,” you immediately go to join him on the couch, cuddling up to his side. “The new handler still being a bit of a dick?”

“Joshua was hand-picked by Jeonghan, it’s not like I can do anything about it,” Seungcheol sighs. “How about you, still enjoying the wizz kid?”

“Dino’s a good one,” you insist. “He follows instruction very well.”

Seungcheol scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You still jealous that I’m in his ear and not yours?” you tease, poking your boyfriend’s chest.

“Don’t go there, honey,” he warns.

“Come on- it could be fun. I think having someone who listens well has built my confidence… you know, we could try it out a little, if you want.”

“You want me to be submissive?” Seungcheol’s brows raise in a sort of shocked amusement. “Not a chance in hell.”

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rafesangelita · 4 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ kook!sweetheart!reader walks her first runway for her own lingerie brand, and of course rafe has to have a front row seat.

warnings: rafe being a supportive bf, suggestive ending

a/n: trying a new fic layout, i hope you all like it as much as i do <3 lol i had the hardest time trying to decide on the song i wanted to use for this fic

you couldn’t believe the day was finally here. ever since you started your lingerie line, you wanted to have a runway show to showcase the beautiful pieces, and all thanks to rafe, he was able to make that possible. while your boyfriend insisted on being backstage with you, you told him to wait until you walked out for the finale, wanting to surprise him in full glam and a set you have yet to release. to say you were excited would be an understatement— you were literally having your very own victoria secret show.

with fashion bloggers, magazine editors, and most importantly; rafe, the man who believed in you more than yourself, being in attendance, you just wanted everything to take place smoothly. “oh my god, you look amazing!” you glanced up from the small vanity mirror, meeting kelce’s girlfriend’s gaze. “me?!” your eyes widened as you shot up from your seat. “look at you! kelce is going to lose his mind.” you laughed, admiring the way her makeup sparkled under the studio lights.

“you think so?” she smiled, both of you swallowing nervously when you heard a ‘okay, we’re on in five!’ over one of the staff’s walkie talkie’s. “oh, god, just what i needed to hear.” you joked. she hugged you before joining the rest of the girls in line. outside in the crowd, rafe was already taking pictures like a proud facebook mom, shushing kelce and topper once the lights dimmed and the music started. the intro to britney spear’s ‘gimme more’ began playing, the crowd letting out a series of ‘oooh��s’ and ‘ahhh’s’ when the first model walked out.

rafe was only recording for your sake, his eyes strictly set on his hands as he patiently waited for your entrance. everything that the models were wearing was something he had already seen on you behind closed doors. rafe couldn’t help but feel his chest bloom with pride as he looked around the beautiful venue. despite him paying for everything, you were the one who worked with the planner and coordinator to bring your vision to life.

and what a vision it was.

you had spotlights lining the runway, glitter littering the glossy flooring. various props were also placed on the sidelines. “look, here comes y/n!” rafe arched a brow at his friend, kelce clearing his throat awkwardly. “don’t get too excited, now..” rafe grumbled, eyes locked on your silhouette. the music reached it’s final bridge, your lingerie clad body illuminating the stage. rafe had no words. you were wearing wings like the angel you truly were, the rhinestones and embellishments on your set reflecting under the now multicolored lighting.

“you’re beautiful, babygirl!” rafe shouted, his eyes widening as you got closer. you looked ethereal. not one hair was out of place, your makeup done flawlessly to enhance your natural features. you caught sight of him, sending a wink his way before blowing him a kiss. “she’s getting it tonight.” he held a hand over his heart, watching the way your hips swayed as cameras flashed from every direction. rafe stayed standing up until you disappeared behind the stage, his smile reaching from ear to ear.

“now that’s a show..” he adjusted himself in his pants, posting you on his instagram with the caption; ‘she’s perfect.’

eventually, the event came to a star strucking end, your boyfriend meeting you soon after with a huge bouquet of pink roses. you couldn’t help the sudden wave of emotions from washing over you at the sight of him. “oh, rafe!” you threw yourself into his arms, being careful not to ruin your makeup. “you were so amazing out there, baby.” he rubbed your back. “yeah?” you pulled away, pecking his lips. “fuck yeah.” his voice dropped a few octaves, his hand finding the curve of your ass. “can you take those angel wings home?” he whispered.

“yes.. why?” you smiled mischievously. “cause i need you to walk for me again. naked this time.”

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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Lovely — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

"She looks just like you." You whisper softly, gaze full of love as you admire the baby between both of you. He doesn't respond for a long while, completely enamored by the little girl who is holding his finger with her entire tiny hand, looking in awe at the life you both created.

"She's so tiny." He whispers back, secretly afraid he'll startle the baby with his deep voice despite knowing she has fallen asleep to his voice and hums more than once. A small chuckle from you is all it takes for her face to turn towards you, her free hand grabbing a strand of your hair and trying to take it to her mouth before Simon gently intervenes, taking it back and giving her another finger to hold.

"Thank you." His gaze focuses on you as he cups your cheek, thumb tracing random patterns on your skin as the corners of his mouth tilt up in a small, tender smile.

"What for?" You ask as if you didn't know exactly what he was talking about, as if he hadn't thanked you hundreds of times for carrying his child ever since he found out you were pregnant.

"For creating her." His tone is as gentle and tender, and if it didn't show just how much he loves you, the look in his eyes totally did. He's looking at you like you're a goddess in the flesh— and you are. You give him a warm smile, leaning closer to plant a small kiss on his cheek, which he returns.

"I like our baby." He murmurs, his hand coming down to caress her cheek gently with one finger. He treats her like she's made of glass, and in his mind, she is. She's so tiny compared to his behemoth frame, and it took a while until he felt comfortable enough to hold her. He plants a soft kiss on her forehead, gaze drifting between his angels before he lets out a small sigh of content.

"She likes you too." You tease, playfully poking his side as the memories of how much of a daddy's girl your daughter is already despite being only three months old. It's lovely, really, to see the man everyone knows as "the big boy with the skull mask" become absolute putty under the tiny hands of his daughter.

He bends backwards for her, holding her late at night and talking to her, telling her all sort of stories about his life despite knowing she can't understand yet. His heart melts whenever his daughter simply looks up at him and babbles, hand reaching out to him and pulling on anything she can reach with surprising strength.

"Mum would have loved her." Your heart breaks at his hushed words, hand immediately reaching out to caress his cheek as he refuses to hold your gaze, simply looking down at your daughter with sadness hidden deep inside his loving stare.

"Look at me, big guy." It takes a few seconds for him to look up, and when he does, you can feel everything. The regret, the longing, the sadness, the pain. You bring him closer for a soft kiss, both of your lips turning up into a smile as your daughter interrupts you by babbling and holding onto Simon.

"You carry her love with you. In your eyes, your smile, your hair... her love didn't go with her when she passed." He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek softly before nodding his head, carefully holding onto your daughter before laying her down on his chest, one of his hands supporting her neck while the other one holds her body close to his.

"Never saw it that way." His voice sounds distant now, yet it's never devoid of affection and love for you. You know him well enough to know he's visiting a graveyard of memories. You lay down next to him, head resting on his shoulder, planting a kiss on his soft jawline.

"She was the best nan. Always spoiling Joseph and buying him anything she thought he'd like... at some point Tommy and Beth were running out of space because he had so many bloody toys." A small chuckle escapes his lips, smiling fondly at the memories of his family before they were taken from him. He felt comfortable enough with you to be able to speak about his family— you were always so patient, waiting years for this.

"They sound lovely." Another kiss to his jawline as you look at your daughter absent-mindedly run her fingers over his tattoo sleeve. It's ironic, to see such an innocent person tracing something meant to be representing of destruction and loss, yet that's what his life is, two sides of the coin that is Simon Riley's past and present. "I'm sure they're watching over you, proud that you have this life."

He gives you a soft grin, planting a kiss on your forehead as he looks out of the window, fingers absent-mindedly caressing your daughter's back while he looks up at the sky. I made it, mum.

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prettiestlovergirl · 10 months ago

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PRETTY GIRL

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; demeter!reader; light bondage; corruption kink; bathroom mirror sex; bareback; fingering; light edging; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it)

a/n: loosely inspired by this booktok post i saw about the fmc wearing ribbons in her hair & the mmc using one to tie her hands behind her back and fuck her, sooooo. this was kinda shit but shhhhh. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

whenever people had to describe you, they'd always mention the pretty ribbons you wore in your hair.

it was like your signature look, you always had some matching ribbon tied up into your hair some way with every outfit.

luke castellan was especially fond of the ribbons, they just accentuated how sweet and innocent you were. you were probably the purest thing he'd ever laid eyes on and he wanted nothing more than to be the one to ruin you.

he felt dirty, evil, for wanting to corrupt someone so sweet, almost angelic, like you, but when you showed up late to your regularly scheduled training session out of breath, with flushed cheeks, a basket of strawberries, and a pretty green ribbon tying up your hair... he couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

you'd been just so apologetic, explaining that you and a couple of your siblings decided to go strawberry picking and lost track of time, but all luke could focus on was your plump, pouty lips and imagining what they would look like around his cock. his cock twitched at the thought.

of course, he reassured you that it was okay, that you didn't need to stress. "relax, pretty girl. i get it." he'd cooed, reaching out end tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear.

you'd been instantly relieved, thankful, that he was being so sweet about your slip up. when he offered to let you use the hermes cabin bathroom to clean the dirt off your face, you obviously told him yes.

luke was always so helpful when it came to you. your knight in shining armor, you once called him. he just always seemed to be there in your moments of distress, knowing just want to say every single time.

all of this led to right now, your body pressed against the bathroom counter, your eyes on luke's in the mirror as he lifted your orange camp tee off your figure and dropped it on the floor.

"fuck..." he groaned instantly, your pretty green bra matching the ribbon still holding your hair up in place. "so fucking gorgeous." he cooed in your ear, making you shiver as he pressed his lips to your neck.

"y-you're sure this is okay?" you asked, glancing over at the door nervously as he kissed down to your collarbone. he sunk his teeth into the skin, making you gasp and moan out.

he marked you as his, creating the first impure mark on your body that only he and the gods would ever know was there.

"i promise, pretty girl. 'm just helping you relax. you were so stressed earlier." luke hummed, squeezing your hip gently to reassure you that everything was okay, that this was all for you.

you nodded, relaxing into his grip as he brought his lips back down to your shoulder. his free hand snaked up your front, pulling your bra down and instantly wrapping his hand around your boob, squeezing.

you moaned out louder, your back arching into him as you leaned your head against his chest. your eyes squeezed shut while he watched your face in the mirror contorting with pleasure.

this went on and on until he was absolutely satisfied with the amount of hickeys on your shoulder and you were a moaning mess against him, your pussy practically dripping through your shorts.

"you're doing so good, pretty girl." he murmured as he brought both of his hands down to take care of your jeans, letting them drop along with your panties and moaning at the view.

your inner thighs were soaked in your own arousal and luke's cock twitched at the sight. he wanted to just fuck you right now, but once again he needed to be patient. if he moved too fast n hurt you, you'd never want to do this again, and that was something he couldn't risk.

he spread your legs out a bit wider, encouraging you to hold onto the counter. "no one's ever touched you here, yeah?" he asked, his voice a bit breathy as he looked at how your pretty pussy looked in the mirror.

"uh-huh." you nodded, your own voice breathy as his fingers reach down and spread your pussy open. "no one but you" you reassured, moaning out as he gently slid a finger inside, your walls instantly clenching around it as you watched in the mirror.

fuck, you were so tight around just one of his fingers, luke couldn't wait to feel how you'd clench around his cock. just the thought made his dick get even harder, if that was even possible.

you gripped onto the counter even tighter with one arm while the other latched onto him. the intrusion was a brand-new feeling to you, but one you certainly enjoyed.

"o-oh, gods!" you moaned, unintentionally grinding down against his hand as he began to pump it inside of you. you whimpered and moaned out, nails digging into his arm and making him hiss in pleasure at the sting. look at you, marking him back.

it wasn't long until you were sagging back against him, forcing your eyes to stay open and watch through your lashes as his finger moved in and out of your pussy.

you became a moaning mess, grinding against him as you started to feel a knot tightening in your core. "mm, luke, i f-feel something!" you gasped, bucking your hips against him. he pulled his finger out, making you whine instantly as your cunt clenched around nothing.

"luke!" you whined, biting the inside of your cheek as you suddenly felt so empty without his finger inside of you. "relax, pretty girl. 'm gonna take good care of you." he cooed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as you pouted but nodded.

he reached his hand up to your hair, tugging the green fabric holding it up and pulling until the knot came undone, your hair falling down over your shoulders.

"what are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowed sweetly as he held the ribbon his hand. "just trust me, baby. you do trust me, right?" he asked, giving you his own mocking pout.

"'course..." you nodded, still so confused until he grabbed your hands and started to tie them behind your back. you wanted to ask more questions, but you didn't want him to think you didn't trust him! so you obediently let him tie a knot.

"that's my good girl." he praised, hiding his smirk at how much you really did trust him. "now, this is gonna hurt a bit, pretty girl, but i promise after a minute it's gonna feel so good." he murmured while he fisted his cock.

"o-okay..." you nodded, nervous butterflies fluttering around your stomach as you felt his tip slowly start to probe your entrance. "fuck!" you cried, your eyes screwing shut and your face contorting in pain as he slowly started filling you up.

"fuck, l-luke, you're too.. fuck, you're too big!" you whined, tears welling up in your eyes as you tugged against the fabric binding your hands together.

luke had instantly groaned upon entering your warm, wet pussy. he'd barely got a quarter of his cock in, your pussy far too tight and squeezing him. he wanted nothing more than to push in and start thrusting, but he had to be good, for your sake. at least, this time.

"just gotta breathe, pretty girl. need you to relax." he grunted, straining with the effort to stay still. you whined more, but once his hand connected with your swollen clit, you started to relax.

he pushed in more and more until finally, he was all the way in and your cunt stretched to fit him. "oh, fuck, fuck!" you moaned out, eyes fluttering shut as he finally started to thrust in and out of you.

you were still clenching around him, your puffy walls clinging to his cock like a vice while he held you hands behind your back. he moaned as he got rougher, finally just unable to help himself. you were too wet, too tight, too fucking good to keep moving so slow.

"tell me you're mine." he commanded as his thrusts got a bit harsher, his grip on your hips tightening as you whined out. "fuck, fuck, 'm all yours! all yours!"

he thrusted quick and rough, his eyes firmly glued to the mirror so he could watch the way your wet pussy created a creamy white ring around his cock when he thrusted into you.

this went on and on until you started to feel that same knot building up again, your hips bucking against his as he thrusted. "f-fuck, luke, it's h-happening again!" you moaned, his thrusts getting faster and faster until finally, you came on his cock, soaking him in your juices.

he continued to thrust faster and rougher, now chasing his own high as you whined over the sensitivity. "fuck, baby, fuck, pussy's just so fucking good!" he moaned, until finally he pulled out and covered your back and arms in ropes of his cum.

you all but collapsed against him, panting heavily as you turned to bury your face into his neck. he held you just like this until you caught your breath and came down from your high.

eventually, you both got cleaned up and redressed, your legs already sore as you walked out hand and hand.

you hadn't noticed at the time, but your pretty green ribbon never made it back into your hair. instead, it was tied neatly around luke's free wrist, making sure everybody knew exactly who you belonged to.

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you #luke pjo #pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #pjo luke #percy series #charlie bushnell

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mariasont · 7 months ago

Note

not sure if you’re planning to write this, but smut with spencer & bimbo!receptionist!reader would probably fix my problems 😔 i feel like spencer would be praising her nonstop, while also being condescending & i fucking live for that‼️

Undo You - S.R

a/n: i love ur mind anon 😚 i hope this lives up to what you want 🫶🏼🫶🏼✨ thank you for requesting xoxo

anyway i kinda think this is bad bc i didn’t proofread but whatever ill prob go back and edit laters!

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: bimbo reader and spencer doing the nasty

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering, degrading? (not really), spencer being slightly condescending, p in v, unprotected sex (BE BETTER!), creampie (STOP I HATE IT TOO BUT WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL IT?!?!?! TWINKIE?!?!)

wc: 1.3k

Mustering the courage to ask you out was a feat in itself but getting you into his bed was a whole other ballgame. But here you were, fingers roaming through his hair and tracing the contours of his back. You were perfect, and you were in his bed.

The wasn't the first, nor would it be the last if he had anything to do with it. It's hard to fathom his good luck--to have you, breathtaking in every sense, under him, your fingertips gently grazing his waist band as you inch towards his cock.

Your makeup was almost artfully messy, with mascara delicately pooled beneath your lashes, rendering you devastatingly tempting. You had glittering eyeshadow on, and it was getting everywhere. Spencer felt the urge to undo you--to disrupt the pristine image you presented to the world, to make you uniquely his. Selfish? Without a doubt. But that didn't diminish the idea.

Your hands, with their perfect manicure, were now wrapped around his cock, tugging and pulling as if your palms were sculpted precisely for this purpose.

You were saying something, your lips a mesmerizing motion as he grasped the sheets beside you, each fistful a concerted effort to remain control.

"What, angel?" He was trying to be patient with you.

You talked a lot in general, but in bed, it only seemed to amplify. This was not a bad thing, not in his eyes, no, it was almost too much of a good thing. Each time your mouth opened and closed with another airy comment he found himself that much closer to spilling his load all over you.

"Your face is really red," you breathed out, nostrils flaring slightly, your eyes averted, engrossed in the sight of his length enclosed between your hands.

He stifled a laugh, resisting the urge to shove his cock into that pretty mouth of yours.

"Well, you see," Spencer starts, pausing as your hand presses to the tip of his length, "when someone is excited...or aroused, blood flow increases to the f-face, causing...vasodilation. It's... it's a sympathetic nervous system response."

"Oh, like when you get all red after running?" You tilt your head in that curious way of yours, your actions uninterrupted as words flowed from you.

"Yes, exactly like that."

He grabbed your hand, pulling you off of him and pressing that same hand to the mattress below him.

"And just like my face gets red, your pupils dilate when you're excited," Spencer explains, his hand poised just above your collarbone, sketching paths on your skin, "It's due to the release of norepinephrine, which is part of your body's fight of flight response."

Your lips were parted, pressing your body into him like you couldn't help yourself, hips squirming under his.

"So, what's the verdict, sweet girl?" Spencer asks, watching your gaze met his, lips parting as he dragged a hand over your clothed heat. "What's your body telling you? Fight of flight?"

You kissed him, gasping into his mouth as he pushed a finger into you. You were drenched. "Is submit an option?"

"That's my girl," he said, feeling his cock tighten even more, as if that were possible, almost moaning at the sight of your dimple being drawn out.

You whined, arching your back against the navy-blue sheets as your hands locked around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. He could smell everything about you from here—your coconut shampoo, your vanilla perfume, your lavender lotion. He wanted to inhale it, to inhale you.

He didn't even bother with your skirt, simply pulling your panties out from under it and lining himself up with your entrance. He watched, enthralled, as your chest rose and fell, holding your breath as you braced for his cock. You were so good for him, too good for him.

One hand clasped against your hip as the other guided his length into you, hissing as you tightened around him. It was a feeling that could never get old, like he was being reborn, like the world was ending and you and him were the only two people left. He would be fine with that.

Your face twisted up in pleasure as you began to rock against him, not giving yourself that chance to adjust. You did this often and it caused him to push down on your hips, stopping your movements. He could come if you kept doing that. He would.

"Patience," he hissed, but you were never one that was good with following orders.

You moved again, tits bouncing up and down your chest as you did. He stifled a groan, meeting your movements with thrusts of his own.

He imagined this is what Buddhists meant when they referred to finding the garden of Nirvana. This was it for him. The ultimate state of liberation and profound peace.

You were a blubbering mess, fingertips clawing down his back, surely to leave marks, but he couldn’t care less.

“Look at you,” he cooed, rutting his cock in and out of you. “You’re awfully quiet. Got something on your mind, baby?”

“N-No,” you stammered, legs wrapping around his waist as your arms went around his neck, clinging to him like a koala, your moans now pressed up against his ear.

“I figured as much.”

Your tits were flush against his chest, his breath stalling as he reached in the limited space between you, thumb circling your clit. Your whines intensified, just as his thrusts did.

“Spencer, please, yes, oh fuck—,” you paused, a gasp releasing from your lips as he felt you unravel on his cock, your wet cunt clenching around him in a way that made his legs shake.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that.” His movements were more desperate now, sloppily slamming into you without mercy. “You’re so fucking good, baby.”

He barely recognized your lips against his ear. “Will you come inside me please?”

That was all it took, those simple words, brushing against his skin and rushing all the way down to his cock. His thrusts slowing as he pumped himself inside you, the sound completely obscene, but it just made him enjoy it that much more.

You were limp against the bed, and Spencer was quick to follow, face finding the crook of his neck as he tried his best not to crush you with his weight.

He could feel your pulse against his lips, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses into your honey induced skin as he waited for you to return back to planet Earth.

He was well aware of the drill, pressing one last kiss to your sweaty forehead before prying himself out of your hands and making a beeline for the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and a glass of water before coming back to the bed, nearly fainting at your tired smile shining at him, at him.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

“I really love when you call me that,” you said, almost dreamily as you pushed your tousled hair into the pillow.

He laughed, placing the water on the table and moving your legs so he was between them.

“Gorgeous,” he repeated as he dabbed the towel to your sex, cleaning the mess he made on you. “Do I not call you that enough? Because I can certainly make it a more regular occurrence.”

“Well, I mean, it couldn’t hurt,” you said, giggling as you flinched away from the pressure on your clit.

He pushed your leg down, preventing you from squirming. “Let me clean you up.”

You pouted, and he had the sudden urge to bite your bottom lip. You gave him a salute, giggling before you could even get the words out. “Aye, aye captain.”

He tossed the towel to the side, climbing up your legs as he kissed you, soft and slow, murmuring into your lips, “come here, smart ass.”

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x bimbo!reader #spencer reid x bimbo reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #Reid #criminal minds smut

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baocean · 1 month ago

Text

flirt - rafe cameron

nice!rafe x reader college au warnings - smut, swearing, drinking summary - when rafe cameron finally takes an interest in you, you think its just another one of his one night stands

get comfy, grab a snack, because baby its longgger. i spent all day on this :) (hahaha ha ha h a) anyways, i wanted a nice, possibly even goofy rafe instead of him being batshit crazy all the time. so please forgive the personality change, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programs soon.

━

when rafe cameron entered the room, everyone swooned. the football star of unc chapel hill, the hottest guy on campus, the flirt. everyone would gladly drop to their knees for him, except you.

it was like something was wrong with you. because you absolutely did not understand what everyone was always going on about over him.

sure, he was tall and handsome. he was good at football. but he seemed like a complete jerk.

you were a sophomore at unc, rafe was a junior. you’d become very familiar with the horror stories of being around and getting with rafe cameron.

he fucks girls then leaves them on read, picks fights for no reason, drinks way too much, and has a god awful ego.

you just did not get it.

at the party, in some worn out, dirty frat, you stood with your friends in a corner, people watching and giggling.

it had been a fun night so far, meeting new people and having a few too many shots.

but when rafe cameron and his friends walked into the room, everyone’s attention was on him.

you saw him, and wanted to scream ‘boooo’. rolling your eyes, you walked away from your enchanted friends towards the makeshift bar.

a drunk frat brother poured you another drink as your phone dinged. you went to check it, and when you looked back up, there he was, in all his materialistic glory.

“hey angel.” rafe lifted the corner of his lip, handing you the cup the brother just filled.

“thank you.” you smiled for only a second, hopefully fast enough he didn’t even see it, then started to walk away.

“hey, wait!” rafe called behind you, useless. you took a guess that tonight, it was your turn to be the special girl in rafe cameron’s life. you didn’t want that title.

your friends stared in bewilderment as rafe cameron stalks behind you, and pulls on your arm ever so gently to get you to turn around.

“what’s your name?” he asks, his face blank of any little smirk he had before.

“depends on who’s asking.” you shrug, taking a small sip of the juice from your cup. it was strong.

“me.” he clarified, a look on his face telling you should have already known that.

“oh. then, no.” you give him a sweet smile. he scoffs, shaking his head.

“and if it’s for my homeboy over there?” his long finger sticks out and points towards one of his friends, one you’d seen on campus before, but couldn’t put a name to his face.

“oh, if it’s for him, get him to come over here and i’ll tell him myself.”

“what’s your problem with me?” rafe’s face scrunched up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“i don’t have a problem, im just not interested.” you give him one last sickly sweet smile, before returning to the group of friends, patiently waiting to interrogate you.

it had only been a few days since your’s and rafe’s interaction. you hadn’t thought about it much, after getting home to your apartment and debriefing your friends, it had slipped out of your mind completely.

that was, until, you saw him walk into the coffee shop you were studying at.

immediately, you ducked your head, hoping not to get spotted.

he went up to the counter and ordered, fiddling with a straw in his hands, back turned to you.

you thought maybe he had missed you, so with a sigh of relief, you went back to your schoolwork.

“hi, angel.” you cringed at the voice. looking up, there he was.

he was wearing a bandana, tied around his head, some old carhart jacket. he had good style, you’ll give him that.

“oh, hey.” you tried your best to not sound so sincere.

“how’ve you been?” he asked, inviting himself to take a seat across from you.

“great. how about you?” his smile lit up his face, thinking he was finally getting somewhere with you.

he went to answer, when you cut him off, “i’m so sorry, i don’t know your name?” it came out more of a question, a dare.

his smile faltered for a second, and you took that as a win, before he stuck his hand out in between you two.

“i’m rafe cameron.” despite protests, you took his hand in yours to shake it, ignoring how much of a difference in size there was.

he raised his eyebrows, “your turn.”

“still not interested. lovely to see you, though.” you let go of his hand, putting your focus back into your schoolwork.

he scoffed, stood over you for a second, appearing to be looking at something on the table in front of you.

he chuckled, low, then bent down a bit. “i’ll see you later, yn.”

he picked up his coffee and walked out the door without a second glance. alarm bells were going off in your head. how could he possibly know your name?

you grabbed your cup to take a sip, and realization hit you like a brick. on the side of the plastic, your name was written in simple black sharpie.

recently, practice hadn’t been fun. especially since rafe realized the football team practices right next to the women’s soccer team. and also, since rafe found out you were on the women’s soccer team.

he’d made every effort to get your attention, calling your name and throwing footballs towards the soccer pitch, more or less annoying you. your teammates would squeal and giggle, and you groaned.

coach called practice, and as you were packing up your gear and getting ready to make the trek back to your locker rooms, you heard the distinctive voice from behind you.

“angel, how was practice?” you turned, seeing rafe, sweaty and red.

you probably looked the same at him. you’d been running on and off for two and a half hours today, you probably did not look your best. rafe would have disagreed.

“fine, thanks.” you wiped your face with a towel, taking your cleats off and finding your shoes.

“you know, when your face is all red like that, it makes me wonder what you look like when you’re getting f-” you hit rafe on the chest with the back of your hand.

“you’re appalling. does that line ever work on anyone?” you were completely disgusted by him right now, even if the thought did draw a little curiosity from you.

“sometimes. let me take you out on a date.” un phased, rafe cameron persists.

“why would i ever say yes after the comment you just made?” you laugh in his face, earning a shit eating grin from him.

“give me one chance. i don’t know what you think about me, but give me a chance to prove im not whatever it is.”

“no.”

“please, angel.” the way his voice upped an octave erupted thoughts, lot and lots of thoughts.

so, you’d finally give him a little bait to chew on for a while. “i'll think about it.”

with that, you left him standing by the benches. you rolled your eyes at the boy, but couldn’t help but smile.

three hours later you had a follow and dm from rafe cameron.

rafecam: have you thought about our date yet?

yourusername: no, not really

rafecam: come on angel

rafecam: one date is all i’m asking

yourusername: that’s all it’ll be since you’ll ghost me afterwards! it’s perfect!

rafecam: ohhh so that’s what you think

yourusername: the answer is no

rafecam: i’m not taking that for an answer

rafecam: it’s yes or yes

rafecam: i’ll be the perfect gentleman

rafecam: im the man of your dreams come onnnn

yourusername: you’re funny

rafecam: so does tuesday night sound good?

read

yourusername started following you!

deciding on something nice, but not too nice, you took your hair out of the rollers and sighed.

it’s your date with rafe tonight. you were feeling a lot of emotions.

you’d gone through rafe’s instagram the night he dmed you, had followed him back. there was even some 'get to know you' conversations somewhere in between.

pictures of his parents and sisters, his friends, pictures of them on a beach, all smiling. no pictures of him out at a party, or arms slung around girls. there was an image to maintain, though. the quarterback at unc, with forty thousand followers, of course he wasn’t going to post that.

you rolled your eyes and jumped up to show your roommate the black silk dress you were wearing for the dinner date at the fancy restaurant in town. anna was funny, bowing down in front of you like you were some god.

the doorbell to the apartment rang and your eyebrows furrowed. you thought, ‘no way he’d find a way to get up here, no way he’d find your apartment, no way he’d willingly come up here and ring my doorbell’.

but there he was, on the other side of the door, holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. your jaw almost dropped.

he was dressed nicely, a smile painted on his tanned features.

“how did you know where i live. and how do you know about the flowers?” you invited him in, giving him a undoubtedly suspicious look.

“don’t worry, angel. i have my ways,” he smirked, looking at your roommate. “hey anna.”

“oh, okay. got it. got it, thanks anna.” you shake your head, grinning as you put your head in your hands.

“we’ll put these in water then head out, yea?” rafe grabbed the scissors while you grabbed a vase to fill up with water, moving in perfect harmony.

the dinner went well, surprising you. he was a gentleman, like he had promised.

and as much as you hated yourself for it, you swooned, just like that.

his smile, and his jokes, and the lack of inappropriate ones. you thought maybe the bar was on the floor, right now you didn’t care. you could only thing about maybe, you could have been wrong about him.

he’d walked you back up to your apartment on the second floor, carrying his jacket and your heels over his shoulder as you walked together.

when you got to your door, it was unlocked, thank goodness, because you forgot your keys.

“these are yours. angel, i had a really good time. promise you’ll text me in the morning?” rafe asked as he held out your heels, a true, genuine look in his eye signaling he meant it.

you shrugged, love drunk, and pulled his arm so he fell inside with you. “we’ll see.”

he dropped the jacket and heels on one hump on the floor, grabbing around your waist and pulling you in.

the kiss was so desperate and rushed, but still gentle. one of his arms wrapped around your waist as you clung to his neck.

pulling apart, you grabbed his chin and lifted it upwards, placing light kisses on his neck, then sucking. his hands grabbed at your hips.

“you look so good. holy fuck, angel.” he returned the favor, kissing down your neck and shoulder, playing with the strap of your dress with his teeth.

you pulled him towards your room, and at first, he didn’t hesitate.

he faltered once you got to your door, pulling back from you.

“angel, i’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment i saw you, but i want to do this right.”

you were taken aback, not believing the words that were coming out of rafe cameron's mouth. you almost thought he was kidding, letting out a anxious chuckle, met with a confused stare.

"did you just say no to sex?" you questioned. he nodded, looking just as surprised by himself as you were.

he doesn't fucking like me, you thought. how could you be so stupid? of course, of course rafe cameron doesn't want you the same way you want him. do it right? what does that even mean?

and there it was, surprising you again, because since when did you want rafe? have feelings for rafe?

"okay, um well, goodnight, then." you tried, tucking your hair behind your ears and grabbing your heels from the ground.

"okay. goodnight, angel." he took a step forward to try and kiss you, but you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head.

he faltered, heart shooting out of his chest. the one time he tries to treat a girl right, and he's fucked that up, too. he grabbed his jacket, stood up straight, gave you one last look and closed the door behind him.

rafe: good morning

rafe: do u maybe want to get coffee with me

rafe: or i could get it and bring it to u

read

rafe: helllllloooooo

read

rafe: angel what's goin on

rafe: text me back yn

read

it had been three days since you spoke to rafe. it'd been three weeks since you met him, officially. your emotions had been twisted, confusing. he’d been gone for an away football game. he stopped texting you after that.

you watched the game with your roommate anna, rafe throwing pick after pick, completely off his game. you sighed, hoping that the small flame inside trying to convince you you're the reason he keeps messing up is wrong.

the game ended, they won by one point. the team cheered on the field as number forty six walked off the field, helmet in hand and head hung low.

rafe: can you please talk to me

rafe: i would take you telling me you hate me over this

you: can you come over?

rafe: be there in ten

he was there in seven minutes, actually. looks of hesitation painting his features when you opened the door for him.

"you've been okay? you didn't text me back on wednesday."

"yea, we should talk about that." you nodded. his face slumped, he looked defeated.

"what? what is it, angel?" he took a step towards you.

"listen, i really only said yes to that date so you'd leave me alone," rafe felt a little bit liked he'd been punched. "but that entire date i felt so good, and i was honestly just fine with having one night with you and never speaking to you again. but then you said you didn't want to and whatever you meant by that, i'm not sure, but it, like, threw me off." you rambled, arms crossed over your chest in defense.

"i wasn't gonna have sex with you if it meant i never talked to you again." his blue eyes hidden under thick lashes, unable for you to get a good read on them.

"but rafe, thats like all you're known f-" your hands went up in defeat as you tried to finish your statement.

"was, it was. i wish you'd just talk to me instead, angel. but this-" he waves a finger between you two- "is different. i don't know if its because you give me shit every time i try to flirt with you or that you're just unlike anyone i've ever met, i don't fucking know. but id rather give this an actual try than pretend i could treat you like you didn't mean something more."

speechless, thats what you were. taking two steps forward and pulling him in. he tasted like mint gum, smelled like wood and vanilla. his lips parted, letting you familiarize yourself with his mouth.

he pulled back, "go on another date with me?" you laughed, then nodded, then pulled him back into you.

he pulled back again, "be my girlfriend?"

"you're pushing it, rafe." giving him a peck on the lips.

"well, just using my logic, here. if you're my girlfriend, then that means were giving it a try and we can fuck all we want." he shrugged, a hand finding its way under your t-shirt and onto your hip.

"you sound insane. ask me again later." you whispered into him, pulling him into your room, this time he didn't budge. rafe cameron, in your small, student housing bedroom, pulling your shirt off.

he kissed your neck, bit at the spots he'd sucked, picking you up and rolling onto the bed with you, earning a laugh from you.

you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, rafe helping you out. your hands found their way to his upper arms, he closed his eyes and flexed under your touch, almost unconsciously.

"you look so pretty, angel. always do." he whispered, leaned down to kiss you again. he pulled your thin, loungewear bra to the side, let out a quiet groan, and kissed.

and he would have done anything to hear that small moan from you for the first time again. your hand reaches up to grab his hair as one nipple is in his mouth, the other being rubbed between his fingertips.

"angel, you want this as bad as i do?" he looked up at you, watched you nod, and smiled, kissing down to your naval.

lifting your lips, he slid the shorts off you, then his sweatpants next.

he lined himself up, pushing into you slowly, memorizing the sound of your gasps and moans. surely, this is what heaven felt like. sounded like. "holy fuck."

two strong arms landed on each side of your head as he slid in and out of you.

his words came out all incoherent, with a lot of 'please', 'angel', and 'pretty''s thrown in there.

this wasn't the kind of sex you'd have with rafe, you thought it would be more rough, not sweet and caring.

your eyes closed, his hand flying to your face, gripping your chin. "open your eyes, pretty girl. i wanna see you. wanna see whats mine." you let out a moan, clenching around him, too deep in pleasure to care that rafe knew you liked that.

"say it." rafe moaned, his pace fastening, a steady hand still on your face.

"im yours, rafe." he pulled you up as you gasped for the millionth time. now, riding him, your face was an inch above his, his features looked perfect under the sunlight.

"are you mine?" you got out, in between moans.

"since the first time i ever laid eyes on you. all yours, angel."

828 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 2 months ago

Text

stolen entries (m)

airing: fem!Reader x stalker!joshua

Genre: thriller, smut, stalking au

Word count: 10k

tags: PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T FOLLOW IN THE READERS FOOTSTEPS AND STAY SAFE. rated R for life RUINING, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND READ WARNINGS TO AVOID ANY TRIGGERING SUBJECTS, stalking, wrong just very morally black!joshua, dark imagery including but not limited to: implied and mentions of murder/threat, mentions of manipulation, mentions of blood, window sex and implied fear of falling out, possessive!joshua, pet names (angel, darling, ect), hair pulling, spanking, blowjobs/cunnilingus with consumption, face fucking, degradation, praise kink

Summary: Diary entries of a man in love. Joshua knew he loved you the moment he laid his eyes on you and had to have you, even if it meant enduring the echoes of every intimate detail of every sexual encounter you’d had before him. But he knew you were worth the wait. He was worth the wait.

author note: thank you @diamonddaze01 @wongyuseokie @tomodachiii @miabebe for betareading! mental health is great thank you for asking, im really excited to have been working on this and everyone involved in betaing have been so incredibly helpful. i hope yall enjoy and thank you again for your patience. <3

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys @idubiluranghae

Entry #3 - November 30th: White suits you.

You look so perfect the way you do. Perfect in white. Perfect in lace. Perfect. Perfect. Forgive me, darling, for being redundant. But that’s all you look to me. Perfect.

What wasn’t perfect was who you had in your room.

How perfectly imperfect.

But what was perfect was those sounds. So lewd. So perfect. Decadent. Enchanting you are, my dear. I wish I had been the reason for those sounds, but for now, I can only live vicariously through November 30th. He will only be known as November 30th. He doesn't deserve a name.

But, in a way, I should thank him. He’s satiating you now. He’s getting you ready for me as I’m getting ready for you.

Be patient, my sweet.

Entry #15 - December 15th: You like how it hurts.

I don’t like this one. He’s rude. Doesn’t even open the door for you. Doesn’t say thank you or please when he asks for something. Just dumps you into bed like you’re a ragdoll.

For some reason, you like that. You like that it hurts. You like it so much you scream his name. I’m forced to learn it.

Seokmin.

Seokmin. Seokmin. Seokmin.

Awful name. Awful on the tongue. I’d be better on the tongue.

But instead, he’s striking you. And I see red. In more ways than one. And you should be in agony, and I’d rescue you. But you’re laughing. You’re begging for more. You’re not fighting him to stop. You enjoy it too much.

So I’m watching again. But I’m not gonna like it. I don't like him.

But you like it. That’s what matters. I despise December 15th—what he does to you, how much you like it, and how much I could do so much better.

Entry #32 - January 1st: You like to teach.

Happy New Year, darling. You started off with someone young. Someone talkative. An amateur. You’re drunk, however, so I'm sure you’ll regret it in the morning.

But for now, you’re enjoying yourself yet again, and by god is it messy. He’s very messy. He touches you like he’s never had experience before, and you let him. I should resent you, but in no way can. You’re precious. My experimental little darling. I’m addicted to you. I must have you, and neither this Chan, Seokmin, nor Jeonghan can stop me.

But for now, I'm grateful the boy cut it short. Like the late bloomer is. How incompetent. But you made it a teaching opportunity. You’re quite good at it. And you made the boy work to your advantage. That’s so sexy. So you. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re also clever. Just like I knew you’d be. January 1st is a good kid. But he should stay in his lane before I push him into one.

Entry #45 January 13th: Dirty talk is a must.

This one is rather peculiar. Overly confident. And rather…annoying. Like a puppy without a leash. Drunk on ego and hard liquor with names I don’t even bother to pronounce. He’s pretentious and it’s clear in the way he undresses himself for you.

He treats you like he’s the only man in the world, and you’re simply beneath him, but I know you’re so much more. Yet, you encourage it. You encourage his… delusion that he’s this outstanding work of art.

You love how he narrates, how he talks to you as if you’re incompetent—degrading even—and you egg him on. “Good girl” this, “bad slut” that. It’s contradictory, but you enjoy it nonetheless. You get off on such obscenity. You’re euphoric from it. Although I hate to do such a thing and call you rancid names, I’ll have to ponder more creative versions.

Nonetheless, you like a bit of chatter, don’t you? Well, January 13th will have nothing on me, my little Angel.

Entry #78 - February 15th: You can keep going until you’re in ruin.

You’ve had a lonely month, and I do apologize, my darling, especially since it’s partially my fault. It is not my time just yet to have you. I must discipline myself first. Condition myself to cater to your every whim. And you have a lot of them.

You’re greedy. This one was utterly restless, I almost felt bad. His stamina had nothing on yours, darling, and I see that you can bite more than you can chew. You’re insatiable. I lost track of the hours that night. My knees, scraped raw and red against the rough concrete floor, as I stayed hidden in the shadows, waiting for you to finish, which you did. Again. Again. Again. Again.

I was starting to abhor this February 15th. What country did he save in his past life that earned him such devoted attention? Was he just that amazing? Did he make you 1000% satisfied? Would I have to kill him for that kind of love? Skin him and string him up like Christmas lights? It would be nice to prepare for the holidays early, wouldn’t it?

I’ll refrain for now. For your sake. But to keep up with you, my condition needs to multiply tenfold. I need to be able to be ready. Do what I need to to make indubitably and utterly mine.

M I N E.

Entry # 124 - April 1st: Toys are for adults too.

The joke was on me thinking you’ve changed your ways. Making love, or should I say primal sex, seemed to be something in the back of your head, but that wasn’t the case.

Instead, you fucked someone. A comedian nonetheless, and after he had finished his stand-up. You sat your pretty ass on the stool beside him, twirling your pretty strands of hair, batting your pretty lashes on that pretty face of yours. Just because it was April Fool's day doesn't mean you had to be the fool, my love. That was reckless.

But I suppose I learned something about you. Something you like in bed that you haven’t exhibited in others is that although you love a good laugh, it wasn’t fit for the bedroom. Sometimes, toys aren’t just a trickster's accessory but a vixen’s too. They are just simply different. Distinctly different.

Though a comedian’s job is to speak, you had him—well—gagged. Ball-gagged, no less. That was... intriguing. Enticing, to say the least, and you turned the whole performance into something far more captivating. There’s always something new I’m learning about you, love. And I can’t wait to show you what I’m capable of when I finally get my hands on you—and your toys.

Entry # 200 - June 14th: You could do it anywhere.

Keeping up with your summer antics wasn’t easy. Considering every precaution I’ve taken and every obstacle I’ve faced, I did everything from double-checking flight numbers to calculating the perfect distance to stay hidden. If only you could appreciate my efforts, love. I had to make sure my hiding place remained undetected—always just far enough to stay out of sight, but close enough to ensure your safety.

And while I thought a vacation with your family was the last place you’d do looking, you wound up somehow in your brother’s best friend’s bed. Seungcheol, was it? You really have no fear, do you? All while your family was all downstairs, you were getting your desserts while everyone was preparing for dinner, wondering where you were.

Or when it was time to go down by the beach and you had a little adventure in the dressing room of ‘Martha’s Swimsuit Boutique.’ The employees blamed the sounds on the old building fixtures or whatever was happening next door, but I knew what was happening in there. Hell, every person with working ears knew what was happening in there.

Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to forget you, to stop loving you, to forget you and how much you’ve hurt me. But I can't. No matter how much I want to or how many times I try, you're in my blood now. You're in my head, under my skin, and I can't rip you out. I don’t even want to.

You’re a part of me I can’t remove, like a vital organ. I just want you. I need you. I breathe you. If you want to do so much, I would take you right there on the dining table and wouldn’t care who watched, just to please you. Feel, taste, pound every part of you, from the red in your veins to cum that would flood in between my gums.

I D O N T K N O W H O W M U C H L O N G E R I C A N W A I T.

Entry # 237 - July 20th: At the end of the day, you want love too.

There’s no need to cry. He was never meant to have you is all. I must commend your brother. He beat that boy harder than I expected him to, but then again I would do a lot worse.

He didn’t deserve to have your heart. He was an idiot. I would never be like him. And you’ll realize that soon enough.

I would show you so much more. I can be so much more. I am so much more. My darling, I would travel to the next galaxy to have you, give you all that you desire, and make it so that the only tears you shed are the ones in bed when I prove to you how much you’re mine as much as I am yours.

Entry # 242 - July 25th: Today is the day.

Preemptively, I decided to go with a scent you’re familiar with. You've held out for weeks, even months, since your miraculous escape on July 20th. You’re stronger now, more confident, self-assured. very mindful, very demure. I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist saying it—just like you’ve repeated since locking yourself away. It’s cute, really. This whole ‘recovery’ thing, it suits you.

It’s like you were made to pique my interest and appetite. Even right now, as you’re outside the window of this restaurant, unsure if you want to enter because this was the one you’d frequent so often with him. Your favorite place to be since you were a little one.

I still can’t believe you decided to move back home. As if he hadn’t hurt you enough, you breathe the air he does? Watching him engage with the pretty blonde on his arm will not heal you, my sweet Angel. It is wrecking you. You should’ve left when you had planned to then.

I picked up my life and ran after you because I worried so much. I worried what would happen if I weren’t around to be with you. To make sure you’re okay. But I won’t have to anymore.

Today, I pretended to pick up a book you dropped to make eye contact with you, slipping a secret message I left on a Post-it inside. I hope you read it. I hope you reciprocate. And if you don’t, it had been all for nothing.

I’d be nothing.

Entry # 243 - July 26th: I love you.

You answered back, just like I thought you would.

“Hi :)” you said, with that cute emoji thing you do. How adorable.

For a moment I was worried, you wouldn’t but only a moment I promise. I would never doubt you. I have entire faith in you, you’d realize what this is. The fire I have burning for you.

I’m glad you’re giving us the chance to realize what we’re meant to be. I can’t wait for our first date. I’m so excited, I don’t even know what to write for today. I just want to live in the bliss of knowing that you finally see me. See me.

Entry # 244 - July 27th: You couldn't wait, and I almost gave in.

You tried kissing me. Put your hand on my thigh. Brushing against my–

I can’t be impatient. This journey can’t be rushed. No matter how much I want to push your head into the mattress and split you in half as you’re calling out my name.

The sooner I give in, the easier it is to make me a rebound. And I am no rebound.

I am meant to be your eternal. Your other half. Your perfect opposite.

Sleeping with you as soon as tonight would’ve tainted our beginning. You mean so much more to me than that.

Just know I want you so bad. I want to get to know you. I want to see you. For our future to start, we need to start this off right. You’ve signed up for a slow burn, my darling.

We are worth the wait.

Entry # 255 - August 7th: I love you more than I realize.

We are so good together. Even if the bag boy decides to flirt with you in front of me, and even if you entertain it a little, thinking I wouldn’t see.

You’re trying to punish me for being disciplined. It’s funny. The things I could do to punish you for testing my patience. Don’t pretend to be all innocent when you bend your ass towards me, leaning up against the conveyer belt to show off both your…assets. Give a show to me and that loud vest-wearing scum.

You think you’re so clever. So sneaky. And maybe you are. You’ve made quite the effort to conceal the truth about your previous relations. I like to think you’re doing it for me. For my sake. Because you’re so considerate. But I know the truth my darling. I know all I need to know about you. But I appreciate your efforts.

You really do love me. And somehow, I love you even more.

Entry # 297 - September 18th: You miss him.

You saw him today, and although you hid it, I could see it in your eyes. You miss him still. Like he was a scar etched into you, or a blood stain that was impossible to get out.

Did I have to kill him to rid you of thoughts of him? End your suffering by ending his life. It would be easy. So so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so easy.

I just can’t stand the way you look at him. A mere boy when a man like me is beside you.

Making you wait feels almost impossible now. Who the hell am I kidding? I’m the one who's waiting.

I just had to do one last thing before. Just one more thing. By then it would be final. And it would just be us. Forever.

You had been seeing Joshua for just a few months, but he was different from the guys you’ve met before. A genuinely good guy. Gentlemanly, even. You found it cute and maybe hot–absolutely hot. Nothing more attractive than knowing a man can keep his hands to himself.

But now, you found yourself wondering if he had not initiated because of something else. Since you’ve met, he’s always been the perfect gentleman, polite and thoughtful in a refreshing and frustrating way. It’s rare to meet a man who doesn’t leap at the chance to get you into bed, and while you found his restraint enticing and irresistible, it also left you questioning whether he’s just being courteous—or if he’s doing it on purpose to ward you off.

You’ve given Joshua every hint imaginable. The thong peeking out from your jeans when you bent over, the casual unbuttoning of your top whenever his eyes drifted your way—each move deliberate, strategic. You even threw in your signature look, those smoldering eyes that always did the trick, scanning his body as if you could ravage him whole, and you would. It had a flawless track record. Until Joshua, that is.

It made you want him more. Like he was making you wait, beg for his attention. Made you forget for a moment you were crying over Seungcheol some time ago. As if your heart didn’t shatter into a million pieces shortly before meeting Joshua.

Even when you saw Seungcheol briefly–so briefly–a part of you still missed your ex, but you craved being in Joshua’s arms more. Like medicine. Joshua was your medicine.

God, you needed him so fucking viscerally.

That’s when you decided. No more beating around the bush this time. It’s been four months too long. You had to have this man.

You decided to make a surprise appearance at his place–the address you just happened to "discover" on his driver’s license when he wasn’t paying attention. And, of course, you showed up wearing something kind of insane.

You know those movie scenes where the sexy love interest throws on an oversized trench coat with barely anything underneath, or sometimes nothing at all? Yeah, well... you decided to try that. And now you’re waiting outside of his apartment building in the autumn weather–freezing your literal ass off–waiting for him to get home to give him the surprise of his life.

It had been over an hour, and with each exhale, your breath hung in the air, a visible reminder of the cold. You hugged your coat tighter around your body, clutching it like it was the only barrier between you and freezing to death. And honestly, it might as well have been. Standing outside his building in practically nothing had your heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

Here you were trying to be all cutesy, sexy, and fun, and this damn man wasn’t even home. Were you out of your mind?

The anxiety was creeping in. The biting autumn air had found every exposed inch of your skin, and your confidence was sinking fast. Just when you were ready to leave this cringe-fest waiting to happen, and retreat to the warmth of your own home, you heard footsteps approaching from down the street. Your pulse quickened as you glanced up, and there he was, walking towards you in a long dark coat and sweater.

Joshua’s eyes met yours, his expression shifting from confusion to slow realization as registered you from his distance, watching you stand there bundled in your trench coat with something obviously beneath it. His lips parted slightly, his brow furrowed, but there was no judgment—just surprise, and more so curiosity.

You instinctively tightened your grip on the coat, pulling it closer around your nearly bare body as you leaned against the wooden front door that had been stubbornly keeping you outside. “Hey,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling slightly in the cold, watching your breath materialize in the air as a delicate cloud of frost.

“Hi?” His tone was cautious but amused as if he was trying to piece together exactly what was waiting at his doorstep. He shoved his leather-gloved hands into the pockets of his own coat, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “This is...unexpected. What are you doing here?”

You let out a shaky laugh, nerves bubbling up as you shifted on your feet, your bare thighs scraping against one another as they clenched. “Yeah, so... there’s a really good explanation for all of this, but, um...” You glanced down at yourself, then back up at him, feeling more exposed than ever. “Can I come in first?”

His place was disturbingly neat—psychopathically neat. It was the kind of spotless where everything seemed too perfect, like someone with more than a few screws loose needed complete control over their space. Every surface gleamed, not a speck of dust or a misplaced item in sight.

“Want something warm? Tea, maybe?” He politely offered with a warm smile.

You found yourself mirroring his smile, a giddy excitement bubbling inside you like a teenager with a crush. With a light skip, you made your way back toward him, the trench coat swaying around you like an oversized brown paper bag—so tempting to just shed it. “That sounds really nice. Anything would be good.”

“Okay. I’ll put on some Earl Grey for you.” His lingering smilewas the last thing you see before he disappeared in the kitchen, giving you the opportunity to learn more about the owner of the home.

Nothing was out of place. The walls were a sterile beige, devoid of any warmth or personality, while the furniture radiated with an unsettling shine that suggested it had never truly been used. Not a single wrapper marred the coffee table, nor was there a crumb in sight—everything was meticulously arranged as if he harbored an unyielding aversion to disorder. It felt more like a stage set than a home, the kind of place that made you wonder if anyone actually lived here, especially given the spontaneity of your intrusion.

Your blood ran cold. The longer you scanned the room, the more strange it felt to be standing there. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as unease settled in. You suddenly found yourself questioning why he was taking so long with the tea.

Your toes curled in discomfort as you glanced over to where Joshua had disappeared, and just then, he emerged from the kitchen, two mugs of steaming hot tea in either hand. He set them down on the coffee table with a practiced ease and settled onto the pristine couch behind him. “Have a seat. We can wait while the tea steeps.”

You nodded, a tight look on your face, and lowered yourself onto the couch beside him, accepting a cup and sipping on its deeply rich content. “Thank you.”

“Now, what brought you over here? I’m surprised you managed to find out where I lived...considering I never told you,” he said, his expression blank as he nursed his cup in his hands.

“Well,” you began, swallowing hard as the heat from the tea scalded your tongue and burned its way down your throat. “I’m not quite sure how to explain this, but…I found your driver’s license when it fell out of your wallet on one of our dates, and I kind of memorized your address? I thought I’d surprise you.” You paused, a nervous laugh escaping. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

He set his tea at the corner of the coffee table, and clasped his hands together, a teasing glint in his eyes hearing your confession. “Well... I commend you for not only your bravery in the doing and admitting fault, but it’s not that weird, actually. It’s kind of flattering.”

“Really? But I invaded your privacy. That’s invasive—almost illegal, isn’t it?”

For a fleeting moment, you swore you saw his fists clench, but then one of his hands slid over yours, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckle, quickening your heart rate. “But if I say it’s okay, then it’s okay. Right?”

Also, setting your tea aside, your other hand instinctively fell on top of his, the earlier discomfort and worry fading into the background. “I guess so.”

He shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. “You look cold. Would you like a hug to warm you up?”

“S-sure,” you managed to stutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you accepted his invitation.

As his arms enveloped you, you felt the raw strength he kept hidden beneath the layers of clothing. The warmth radiated from his body, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he tightened his embrace around you, holding you protectively–possessively even. You breathed in his scent, registering his cologne you were all too familiar with and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. For a moment, every trace of anxiety disappeared. Joshua had a way of making you feel secure again, of restoring that sense of safety you hadn't realized was what you were in search of.

You leaned into it, your breath fanning over the skin of his neck as your hand roamed up his back, eager to peel off his physical and mental layers keeping you from devouring him with reckless abandon. You wanted to pull him closer, to feel the reassuring weight of his body against yours, like your own personal shield. The conflicting urge to consume him entirely, to the point of exhaustion, while simultaneously cherishing every part of him was a dilemma you never anticipated facing—especially so soon after a breakup. Joshua stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t even begin to explain, no matter how hard you tried.

When he let you go, the absence of his warmth was immediate, but the kind smile on his face remained as if reassuring you that everything was fine. “Better?”

“Yeah. That was nice,” you whispered, still holding his hands, both large and perfect.

“Good. Now. What was this surprise that couldn’t wait for a text or phone call?”

Now, a wave of nerves washed over you once more.

Your hands fiddled with the straps keeping your attire in place, and you hesitated before standing before him, mustering up the final bit of courage you had left in place of your dignity. “Well, I wasn’t quite sure if you were just being the polite gentleman who could ‘do no wrong’ or if you’d been completely oblivious to the hints I’ve been throwing your way since our first date. But I’m here making it as clear as possible for you, Joshua Hong.”

With a determined tug, you loosened the tie that held your closure in place, letting it slip from its knot and revealing the reason you felt goosebumps up your legs. Your breasts bulged out of the lacy fabric, leaving almost nothing to the imagination and hugging parts of your body the man before you had only seen in passing through a window. The pillowy flesh spilling from your decorated underwear left him with a sensation that wrapped around Joshua’s throat and clenched.

He couldn’t feel himself breathing, drinking in your exposed skin, admiring the bright white of the lingerie complimenting your skin as it clung on to you seamlessly, while the trench coat finally found itself where it belonged on the ground. He sank the couch behind him as you came closer, wordlessly tracing every curve, dotting every mole, noting every mark or scar as you loomed over him in feigned innocence. The only air he could draw was his ragged breath, his hands aching to touch you.

“I would love nothing more than to have your hands all over me,” You said with a sultry edge, dripping with obvious intent.

Your knee dug into the couch's cushion, the other following and taking residence in Joshua’s lap as he simply watched. His eyes softly blinked back up at you as you settled into him, having him melt under every word you spoke.

“Is that so?” He asked calmly, physically refraining himself, and ignoring the dark thoughts clouding his logic.

You threw your arms around his neck, gazing down at him as you shifted in his lap. “I do. It’s all I can ever think about anymore. Ever since these last four months.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, like steam escaping from a kettle.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“...Am I supposed to say something more?”

“How about–I don’t know. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to say that the whole time,’ or ‘I feel the exact same way, tongue wrestle me until we pass out.’ Give me something,” You begged.

He shrugged, playing up his ignorance. “Doesn’t sound like me? Does it?”

“Is this really all you can talk about? A girl in her best lacy underwear–in white mind you–sitting in your lap like she’s accepting ones in a night club, and you’re fixated on your characterization?”

He shrugged again as if taunting you, the smile on his face growing sinister at your agitation. “I have poor depth perception.”

You groaned, your body feeling heavy as you slumped against him, ready to slide off his lap in defeat. “I give up.”

But just as you were about to peel away from him, you felt a firm pair of hands steady you, anchoring you in place. Joshua’s eyes sharpened as his grip tightened, fitting your body in the curves of his palms. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You blinked back at him, confused yet oddly at home in his touch, despite the rapid beat of your heart suggesting otherwise. “I thought–I kinda thought you wanted nothing to do with me,” you reluctantly answered.

His cool palm slid against your flushed skin, trailing up your body and igniting a path of fire that battled the waves of chills following up your spine. Instinctively, you fell forward, involuntarily pressing your lace-clad chest against the cashmere of his sweater and finding purchase back around his broad shoulders, which looked bigger than usual. A soft squeak passed your lips as he tugged you towards, fitting your bodies together like pieces of a puzzle.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” His hands grasped the sides of your thighs as he tucked them around his torso, not once breaking eye contact.

You felt a cold sweat trickle down your skin, your body stiffening as you focused solely on the soothing tenor of Joshua’s voice. “I always see how you look at me, Angel.” His fingers carded through your hair, pushing it to one side and delicately grazing over the fullness of your breast. “And I love how you look at me.”

“Josh,” Your voice emerged softer than you expected, almost tinged with a plea as you drew closer.

“And believe me when I say this, darling, I’ll always want something to do with you. I want everything to do with you…if you let me.”

You felt his hand somewhere you’ve only ever imagined: at the hook of your bra before he slowly started to unlatch it, the straps falling off your shoulders as your support came undone. You were grateful to be pressed so close to him. Otherwise, your entire upper body would be entirely nude. Entirely exposed. You tucked your arm over your chest, gaze dropping at the perceived proximity until Joshua gently moved you by the chin to meet his eyes.

“Don’t.” He quietly demanded, purposefully moving away, and the undergarment fell from your body, your nipples christened by the chill air conditioning. “So perfect.”

His hand hovered over their shape, only ghosting over them but not nearly touching, yet either bud tensed at their mere presence. You exhaled shakily, your breath uneven and impatient, as your eyes suddenly drifted away, overwhelmed by an unexpected rush from his uncharacteristic attention.

“You don’t want to know how much I imagined putting you in my mouth.” His pursed lips landed on your collarbone in an open mouth kiss, gently pulling you between his lips.

You softly moaned, unfurling your digits before they slid up his neck. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t do anything but—you felt his mouth latch onto you, teeth burying into your flesh. You parted your lip in another moan, instinctively reacting to the familiar concoction of pain and pleasure exhibited by previous partners, but this was Joshua. Gentlemanly Joshua.

He bared his hand flat against your back, dipping your body towards the coffee table and pressing urgent kisses to the hollow of your neck, lingering against the pulse of your throat and digging his hips into your pelvis. Your hand roamed over his body, cradling his head and pressing him closer against you as your knee hooked around his waist.

Joshua swung his hand behind you, knocking over the mugs with a loud crash, sending tea spilling everywhere on the ground as the flat surface of the coffee table urgently met your exposed back. It stung how cold it initially was until the weight of his body stunned you, leaving you impervious to everything else. He grabbed your side, wrestling with the skin of your clavicle as his hand ran harshly over your erect buds, grinding them under his palm.

In between your legs, you felt warmth—the kind that makes a show when you could only think of being rammed at 100 miles an hour—and you felt it soak in the fabric of the lace, flossed between your folds when you were desperate for friction. “Joshua, please…” you cried.

He shoved away the useless bra now just hanging off your body before his lips curled around the curve of your breasts, kissing their underside as his thumbs fiddled with their sensitivity. Your knees bent towards you, your hips pulsating against his thigh as his tongue taunted you, flicking over the texture of your nipples and nipping at the tips as he pulled with his teeth. You whimpered, body falling limp on the table as he nursed you between his lips, his eyes piercing back at you lewdly as an occasional moan would leave his lips.

“Tell me how you like it. Teach me.” He spoke with a quiet, commanding authority.

“Y-you seem to be doing a good job so far.”

He smiled, running his hand through your hair before it gripped between his knuckles, sending a rush of ache from your scalp. Your eyes shot up to meet his, a blend of fear and arousal flashing through them, but you were quickly soothed by the gaze he held, sultry and unshakable. “Should I be mean then?” He offered.

You let out a brief yelp after his hand swatted over your plush thigh, your flesh spilling between his fingers as he squeezed. The bridge of your nose touched your speechless expression, lips tracing over your face with a deep exhale. “Give you the kind of things you want? What I learned about you?”

“What have y-you learned?” you hesitated to ask.

His eyes glazed over you, seeing you melt at a simple glance before tenderly pressing his lips to yours, only sampling. You mewled in the depths of your throat, lips falling open as you kissed him for the first time, succumbing to the pillowy texture of his lips. His eyes partially open, he fixed his eyes on your features, how they contorted with his touch, reacting involuntarily to the rocking of his body against you. He was obsessed with the mere image of you.

“What I’ve learned, hmm,” he quietly pondered.

Giving him time to think, your hand cupped over his attached to your thigh, guiding it under you and around your ass, letting his digits outline the curve of your body. He chuckled and brought the other hand parallel, following his carnal urge to clutch you tightly in his grip. A smile melted on your face briefly, enjoying the sensation of his hands before he roughly pulled down your underwear before you could even gasp, leaving you truly naked.

“I’ve learned that when you want something, you take it.” His hands come down to the bottom of his sweater and pull it along with what’s underneath off of him.

His glistening tan reflected back at you, beads of perspiration coating his skin—likely a result of months of tension finally unfolding. As you took him in for the first time, the way the light and shadows sculpted his form accentuated his physique, leaving you stunned and curious about what else he might’ve been hiding from you.

“So take what you want from me, Angel.”

God, you really could swallow him whole in a single gulp.

You repositioned yourself, planted your knees on the table, and tugged him by his belt. Your once pleading eyes became determined as you fixated on tearing off his pants, starting by unbuckling his belt at the waist. Your eyes fluttered, seeing the bulge through his briefs, twitching in your presence while you fit a finger at the top hem. A sigh escaped you; glance briefly up at Joshua’s expression–full of patient anticipation–before wrapping your hands around his aroused girth.

“...You’ve been waiting for me,” you began to realize, seeing the cock firm up in your grasp.

He let out an amused hum, stroking the side of your head. “I wanted to make sure you wanted me.”

“Of course, I wanted you.” Your hand ran along his shaft, veins pulsing on the ball of your palm, and you pressed the head to your lips. “I just wanted you to show me you wanted me.”

Joshua’s groans barely escaped as your lips curved around the tip and more than gently kissed. His hand clasped around your head, moving it so your eyes could face his, seeing him come apart in front of you. From just your teasing. “Darling, if I did that…I’d never know when to stop.”

“Joshua. I’d never ask you to stop.”

His hand cupped your face, and you melted into his palm–absolutely reveling in the blind infatuation on your face before he made you face his arousal, cock grazing your chin before he pressed it past your lips. Your lips stretched around him like a rubber band, expanding to conquer his size but not with ease. Your hand covered his base and enveloping his length as much as you could.

“Angel,” he grunted.

He claimed the back of your head, leading your pace as you took him. Your hands clasped around his hips, fastening yourself to him. You could already feel your drool drip alongside your chin, becoming sloppy as you were fixated on his complexion: blissed with parted lips, looking at you like he’d been touched for the first time.

Your moans vibrated around him as he thrusted into you, momentarily breaching the air of his pelvis before he pulled you back, flicking his hips into your mouth and overcome with ecstasy. “My good little Angel,” he groans, breath hitching in his throat. “Taking my cock like you were made for me.”

He tugged your hair tighter as you felt the hilt hit the back of your throat, and you thought to yourself how much It would’ve hurt if you weren’t otherwise drunk with bliss. You buried him deep inside you, holding him with both hands, sobbing on him with such anguish that people would assume you hadn’t been fed for days.

Joshua’s pretty lips got caught in his pretty teeth, and the darkness in his eyes deepened to a richer, more intense black as a sense of reckless abandon enveloped him. “God…look at you…good little slut like you likes taking cock like mine, doesn’t she?”

The sensation of your mouth massaged him heavenly, having you taste the heady tang of his skin on your tongue while your nose tickled against his groin. He clutched your head, your whimpers and cries pulsating around his girth, fucking your mouth until you hit the base. You looked up, pliant and willing, as tears swelled in your eyes, cheeks hot to the touch, and a thick sheen of slobber over your lips.

You’re precious. And his. All his.

He pried either of your hands off him and restrained them above your head, carrying the weight of his control in his hips, crushing your mouth against his lap. While one hand had stabilized your wrists, the other back fell back in your hair, fucking your pretty mouth until he couldn’t anymore.

Joshua felt his name muffled around his cock, staring back at you as you repeated his name, desperation echoing from your throat, but not to stop–oh no, he recognized this stare. He held you towards him, cutting your airways with hardly a second to breathe. Your eyes fluttered. Pupils began to roll to the back of your head as his cock slid down your throat, bottoming out inside you for the first time.

“You want my cum, don’t you? You’re so damn obvious you do,” he taunted in an unfamiliar tone, foreign to you but nonetheless welcome.

You hummed confirmation around the girth, practically whining with full cheeks.

“Angel, you know what it means when I do, right?” he loomed over you, as your mouth was still pressed against him in an abrupt halt, still tasting all of him. “Do you understand what you’re getting into? The second I cum inside you–mouth or cunt–you’re mine. Are you ready for that responsibility?”

You nodded, impatience singeing your tongue.

“Really?” The fingers threaded through your hair pulled you off, giving you the sharpest intake of oxygen before you fell right back where you belonged with a slam. The pain in your throat caused it to go hoarse, and the tears once swelling in your eyes streamed down your face. “You better mean it, darling. Words aren’t just a promise to me; they’re a vow.”

His final thrusts were steady but harsh, pressing his size inside of you until you gagged, and finally, when he was merciful, you felt his hot stream coat your throat. His hips found their falter, plunging in and out of you–the cum dribbling down your chin until he finally let you go, prying you off him and giving you a moment of rest sprawled on the coffee table.

But only a moment.

His hands wordlessly caressed you, body drained from release, but mind hungry for your essence. Every word he’s ever said in this exchange, he’s meant with every fiber of his being, down to his very core.

“Tired, darling? We’re only getting started.”

You softly chuckled, a tired smile reappearing for the first time in a while. “I’m in for a lot with you, aren’t I?” you asked, strain evident in your voice.

“You’re asking that question far too little too late, Angel.”

His lips puckered to met yours in a gentle kiss, then another, then another. You held him against you, not minding how disheveled you looked with your pulled hair and mascara streaks staining your cheeks, it was your turn.

Joshua found your body easily in your liplock, gliding his hands up and down your body in rushed motions as if memorizing you by touch. Your dips, your curves, your angles. There wasn’t one part of you he dared to miss. And you smiled, you chuckled, so lust blind to see the symptoms forming before your very eyes as if they weren’t already there. He swallowed your laughter, tasting victory on your tongue, and nuzzled in the crook of your lips. “Can I do the things I'm willing to do for you–what I’m willing to do to you?”

You cupped his face, an impish grin on your face. “Stop asking and fuck me like you love me, Joshua.”

Gladly.

He held either of your legs at his side, fingers aligning your folds and splitting in half. If they didn’t already look big, they most certainly felt big. A single digit only traced along your slit, and your hips buckled, fluttering at the sliver of taste.

“I’ve barely grazed you, and you’re like a flood down there,” he quietly teased, pushing in his index halfway.

You clenched around him, then around nothing, and he repeated, effortlessly stealing your breath with every move. You anchored yourself to the edge of the table. “You know exactly why, Josh.” You whimpered.

He then pushes in the full digit–reaching deeper than you expected–and you convulse around him. Your head snapped back, the phantom strings of Joshua’s nasty habits–already acquainted with your body–pulling you in without warning. “Oh my god.”

“You’re so easy to please. As if I know everything about your body without you telling me.” He thrusted his finger, cultivating a rhythm he knew would be perfect for his little darling.

“It’s as if…we’ve known each other forever.” You stated in your countless, staggered breaths.

“Forever…” he plunged another finger, feeling you flutter around him delightfully, “with you?”

His smile, that unsettling perfect smile, pressed a tender kiss against your lips. “I rather like that. Me and you. Forever.”

You quietly laughed before tugging him into a deeper liplock, gently slotting your finger through his hair, not worried about ruining its pristine as you pulled him closer. “I’ll take you and me forever.”

“Now, angel–” you took the hand he had inside you to guide him faster, deeper, your language becoming gasps and moans in a matter of seconds.

He didn’t bother finishing his thought, too enraptured by your demanding hunger, that he pressed on further, feeding you his digits as you swallowed each one by one. His thumb caressed your pulsating bud for extra good measure, taking pleasure at how often you shake when he does, and rammed his fingers deeper in you, finally hearing what his name sounds like in a state of bliss.

He’s overcome with pride–nay–overcome with triumph. The way you look at him with such an utterly lewd expression, your delicious scent a thick film on your body that he couldn’t help but want to lick and devour and engorge. He didn’t need to have another orgasm for another second if it meant seeing you come apart the way you were right now.

“Joshua!” you cried, body shaking as if you were glitching, having an out-of-body experience, and you undid yourself the way he did: utterly and perfectly euphoric.

You creamed his digits with nectar, milky and fair, and he didn’t wait a second for them to enter his mouth, knuckles deep. His eyes fell shut from elation, moaning around his hands, and he caught even the slightest drop down his wrists.

You were fucking–

“Magnificent.” He swallowed your lips once more, hungrily, arousal rushing down to his body again. “Perfect, my sweet little angel.”

“...forever. Me and you.” You repeated, not getting pass the conversation that was interrupted what felt like a millennia ago. “I’ll take you for forever. And that’s a vow for me, too.”

Joshua never expected this, such a scene of ease and pristine, seeing his future lie limp and happy and fucked. You had never looked so beautiful. After all the men you’ve met, all the bodies you’ve collided with, all the dicks you’ve sucked, you always had a glow. It’s why he tolerated such things, but to see that glow after him. It was the most radiating version of you. And to know you’ll have him. He was the happiest man alive.

“Oh, my darling.” He pulled you up from the table to sit you back in his lap, parting away your hair to clearly see your face smiling back at him even with the fatigue. “You are the most perfect thing.” he shook his head in disbelief, unsure how he got so lucky.

“Let me take you to bed, hmm?”

You quietly nodded, admiring him back all the same.

You wrapped your legs around him tightly, before lifting you both up from the ground and walked into his bedroom–just as unnervingly neat as his living room. Or should you say how neat it was. The bedroom presented its same beige aura, hardly a spec of dust in place, but the one extraordinary thing about it was the light casting from the window, beckoning over the entire city.

The second Joshua tossed your naked body on his bed, you immediately got back up, pressing your palms to the window to gaze down upon everyone through it. “You can actually see everything from up here! Wow.”

You heard Joshua chuckle behind you with his footsteps towards you to follow. “You like it, Angel?”

“It’s beautiful.” The glint in your eyes sparkled brighter than any star above you. “I’ve lived here almost my whole life and I’ve never seen it like this. I can even see my house from here! That's crazy.”

Joshua let out an indistinguishable scoff, immediately covering his mouth before coming behind you, his hand settling on your hips. “I got lucky with the lease. Best I’ve ever seen. I never thought to appreciate this view, but now I have a reason to.”

His kiss bloomed a familiar warmth across your face, and you leaned into his embrace, taking his arms around you as you shared the impeccable view. The city lights illuminated the streets, their people, their livelihood, and you never would’ve imagined seeing it if you hadn’t found Joshua’s address.

You belonged here somehow, as if it was meant for you. It truly did feel special. Joshua made it special.

You brushed your backside to his groin, feeling something already prod your side and you swore you felt yourself purr. Bodies still connected, you leaned into the glass, knee digging into the cushions of the window nook. Joshua followed after you knowingly, hand pawing your thigh as his lips drew to your ear, nipping at the tips.

Your moan, deliciously loud, was all the signal Joshua needed to keep going. He mouthed against your neck, one hand crawling over your chest and another reclaiming your sensitive heat. You doubled over slightly, palming and smearing your fingerprints into the flawlessly clear glass, its chill not disrupting the heat festering your body in the slightest.

Joshua had your body thrum in reaction to his fingers, hips wriggling to his touch, and he heightened the strokes on your already throbbing heat. “Josh, please.”

He groaned into the crook of your neck, the outline of his erect cock distinctly recognizable against your lower back. “I want to show whoever’s watching what you’ve done to me, Angel.” he slammed his fingers upright inside you before returning to his regulated pace. “Show what pretty little slut you become when you’re within reach of me.”

“Anything, Josh, anything. Anything for you to fuck me.”

He snickered, an empty darkness echoing inside the tone. “You asked for it.”

His body slammed up against you, hungrily biting along your skin as he nestled his cock between your slit as he entered. You sooner realized how fingers did his size no justice as they filled your cunt with strain. Your ass perked up behind him, not a moment longer before you were forced to adjust to his size with full thrust, holding you by your neck as his other arm cuffed you by your elbows.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, falling and bouncing back against him as his raw cock took you demandingly.

“This pussy,” he growled, his hand striking the full shape of your ass cheek where it still stung, “I’ve dreamt of this pussy.”

He buried himself in you, hitting the hilt deep with your core to the point your vision flickered back to your skull. Your legs parted wide, backing yourself against him until you were accepting every inch. “Fuck that feels so fucking good, don’t fucking stop.”

“Yeah? My slutty angel likes my cock pounding into her pretty pussy?”

“Yes, please, Josh, please give it to me. I love how you give it to me so good.”

“You beg like that,” he gritted his teeth. “I’ll have to properly deliver.”

You looked back at him and smiled, hair falling over your face and his thrusts made you a vision of lust, somehow gracefully breathtaking with his cock buried deep inside you. “You and me forever, right? Don’t stop now.”

Joshua was throbbing, practically beaming at your answer, and before you knew it, your chest was greeted with the frost-bitten window, now flattening against your breasts. Groaning upon impact, the tempered glass tensed your nipples, bringing them both to a hard point, now freezing and pebbling you from your arms to your legs.

Joshua’s body pinned you in place, and you felt his unnerving arousal slide up and down between your cheeks and pushing back up inside you. “I’ll show just how much you’re mine to the world.” His voice was still gentle yet demanding. “Only because you asked for it.”

His flat palm struck you again, pushing up your body and letting the echoes of your collision play in surround sound. Your body, already sore from earlier, knew no rest as you took him deeper, the cold intensifying the pleasure rushing through your body. Your hips swiveled, playing with his cock like a personal toy, and you braced the window in front of you willingly, blasting on an indefinite high.

“Thinking about how someone can see you up here?” He whispered. “Taking my cock like the precious little angel you are? Or letting me fuck you like the nasty fucking slut you are?”

You gingerly nodded, hugging the glass desperately to feel him deeper inside you.“Yes—fuck—I want someone to see us. The thought gets me so wet.”

“So vocal, angel,” he tugged the back of your head, devouring your lips. “My dirty little angel.”

He held your arms behind you, pressing your whole torso against the window, and every snap of his waist had you bending more and more to his will. Every inch of his body had you flushed against him, feeling him present you to the world below like a goddamn masterpiece.

His body slammed again, shaking the glass and flickering fear into your eyes briefly before he reassured you by catching your waist in his hands. “Scared?”

“A little,” you stammered.

“I’ve got you, angel. Just enjoy it.”

And you did, endlessly as his pace picked up again, and by the number of times he’s pushed you, flipped you, rammed you against the window, you were no longer scared of falling through. The fragility of the glass was no longer of concern. You had Joshua to distract you from the life-threatening circumstances with every inch of his being. You had Joshua to protect you from the infinite possibilities of something were to go wrong with the window in front of you shattering. You had Joshua to feel safe no matter how scared and unsure you were. You had Joshua.

Joshua. Joshua. Joshua.

“Joshua, you’re gonna make me cum,” you mewled in his lap. Your ass took its turn to be displayed as your flesh pressed against the thick glass, bouncing on his cock that stiffened up to no bounds inside you.

“Are you? Your pretty pussy is gonna come all over my cock?” His voice now rushed, heightened, signaling how ready he was to burst like fucking dam.

Your nod carried urgency, your hands clasping against his face in desperate pleas, admiring that face you’ve grown fond of, how you could see both light and darkness in them, filling you to the brim with an inexplicable euphoria that you craved with everybody you’ve ever encountered. “I want it. I want to come all over your cock and feel you come inside me too…Make me feel so good so full.”

“Yeah,” he moaned, hand threading through your hair tightly, you hummed in confirmation, bouncing harder as you dared take him by his full length. “This the best cock you ever had? The best one to put my hot cum inside you.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “No one else…no one else can fuck me like you like this. I want you to fill me with all your hot cum.”

“S-shit,” he cried, tugging your back by the wrists, and fucking up into you, the window behind you christened with your sweat and slick arousal.

He ached to cover all his bases, pounding you to malleable dough, he filled your walls with his oozing determination, and his screams of release followed when he shot his promise inside you. His hips faltered in deep, thorough pumps, claiming your body in his hands with intense anguish as he inhaled your skin in his tight, unwavering embrace.

You felt the warmth inside and out of you, like a rapid stream of water—only more viscous and rewarding as your hips bucked, twitching in Joshua’s locking hold, hardly breathing with the way he held you. You wrapped around him just as tight, letting go of him the last thing on your mind and savoring the trembling descent of your peaks.

There are then only sounds of your exchanged breathing, slowly coming down to Earth.

He lowered his forearms, bracing you from your lower back, and carefully lifted you from the nook to carefully lay you against his bed that felt like heaven enveloping your body. He crawled on top of you still, descending lingering kisses all along your body before his lips reached your tired heat, not even thinking of pleasuring you but doing it anyway as he lapped up the final remnants of tonight’s events.

His hums were pleasant vibration, wordlessly tasting every ounce of cum—yours or his, it didn’t matter—and swallowing it like a full meal, gently caressing your swollen clit. He couldn’t have enough of you, letting the brain fog control him until you started screaming in pleasure again.

You had to pull him by threads of his hair to stop, overstimulated by his unwavering hunger, and for a second that darkness was back in his eyes the deepest you had ever seen until they softened in concern, his grip loosening. “You okay?” he wafted in with concern.

“Yeah, it felt good, I just…you’re gonna kill me,” you lightly joked.

He softly laughed, leveraging him up and facing chest to chest with you, devouring your lips with that lingering tang of dominance still on his tongue. “Never…” he whispered with a smile, before he inhaled you for a moment longer, swallowing your moans, caressing your body.

He finally found his self-restraint and let you rest, offering to run a warm bath in the hallway bathroom. You turned to him, taking his hand in gratitude. “That would be really nice.”

“I’ll start one up for you.”

As he leaves, you sink into the bed, reveling in the sheets worn from your presence, and hear the water run in another room, smelling of the clean seat of soap, and nothing has ever felt so right.

“I’ll carry you,” he stated before picking you up from your neck and back to your knees into the bathroom that was another vision of perfection, lit candles marking your path.

You gushed in disbelief, your body finally dipping to the perfect temperature as you were surrounded with rose petals and bubbles. Almost as if he planned this. Like he knew what to do and how to exactly do it.

“How is it?” He asked, hospitality being of second nature. “Warm enough? Water deep enough?”

You gripped the edge of the tub to gaze back at him, bent down to meet your level with a soft, adoring smile as the water splashed against you soothed your aching body. “Who are you, Joshua Hong?”

He snickered, kissing the top of your head without answer. “I’m gonna let you be on your own for a moment, to really give your rest and after I clean up outside, maybe I’ll join you. Just…don’t go anywhere.”

You nodded, initiating a chaste kiss on his lips. “I won't.”

“Good girl.” His smile had never gotten so big, kissing you back with double the force before he got up to leave.

“Leave the door open,” you requested, “just in case you wanted…a nice image welcoming you back.”

“Alright,” he said, eyes lingering on your state before finally taking his leave.

Joshua had his fun in the sun, clinging to every second of this perfect night, but he needed to clean up one more thing before it could truly end perfectly. The kitchen, if you could see it, was clean and pristine as the rest of the house goddamn near was until you helped him wreck it, except one thing just of place.

He glanced at the hunting knife in the sink, carelessly rinsed after he didn’t think he had time to properly clean in your company. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, realizing how long the metal had soaked in the water. He reached into the cabinet for cleaning supplies, his mind racing.

Dousing a rag with isopropyl, he carefully wiped every surface, hoping no streaks were left on the metal, almost failing to notice the blood ironically staining the stainless steel of his sink, to which he scrubbed and scrubbed with conviction. He couldn’t help but be grateful for your lack of awareness, the thought of entering your kitchen not crossing your mind a moment this entire visit. It’s why he loved you. You didn’t ask unnecessary questions. You kept to yourself for the most part despite your rendevous. And you weren’t trouble. he couldn’t wait to return to you. His perfectly oblivious angel.

Meanwhile, you soaked in the water, smelling its essential oil and lathering up the bubbles on your body. In the corner of your eye, a door catches your attention, having not noticed it since entering the apartment. The only door with a keypadlock that seemed to require a code, protecting whatever’s inside or keeping whoever unwanted out. Your thoughts lingered for a moment, wondering what he wanted to keep hidden from plain sight. Hobbies? Priceless items? Murder weapons? Your mind spiraled through every possibility, leaving an itch you couldn’t quite reach to scratch.

But before another second passes, you’re reunited with the man who’s been consuming your thoughts, a smile of relief returning to your face.

“Hi, everything good down there?” You gazed back up at him.

“Yeah, sorry I took so long,” he sighed, the weight on his shoulders palpable until the tension eased away as he slid into the tub beside you.

You moved closer, collapsing into his chest and nuzzling against him, the warmth of his embrace far better than any hot bath. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

His hand gently stroked the back of your head, smoothing the damp tendrils on your shoulders as he glanced down at you, then at the mirror reflecting your intertwined bodies. The image before him was a vision of what the rest of his life would look like. As he correctly foretold. As he meticulously planned. Everything falling into place.

“Me too.”

Your eyes still flickered toward the door with the keypad, curiosity gnawing at you, but you pushed it aside. Whatever was hidden behind that door no longer mattered. Joshua was all that mattered now. You were irrevocably his, as he was irrevocably yours.

Whatever secrets he had, he could keep them.

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beomiracles · 1 month ago

Text

⌞ 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟔 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ “What?” He’s nearly shouting now. You know he doesn’t mean it, he never does, right? But it still hurts. You open your mouth to defend yourself, ready to tell him just how bad he hurt you. No words come out. — Beomgyu grows visibly frustrated, his hands balling up into fists by his sides. “Don’t fucking look at me like that!”

“Like what, Beomgyu?”

The use of his name makes him waver, you hadn’t said it, not once since he returned. And you can tell the gesture only angers him further. — “Like the whole fucking world owes you an apology! You left, you left without a word and you..” He hesitates, swallowing thickly as he regains his composure. “You took my son away from me.”

pairings — idol!beomgyu x fem!reader warnings — secret baby trope, miscommunication, lots of angst, verbal fighting, reader and beomgyu both hurt each other, morally grey characters?, infidelity except I'm super vague about if he did it or not (he didn't), cameo txt, oc (teddy), consumption of alcohol, reader gets intoxicated, heavy on the inner monologue. smut tags, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, implied creampie but nothing is described, marking, nipple stimulation, lots and lots of kissing and making out, emotional sex sorta? + confessions during the sex.

WC ➤ 19k

#serene adds ✎.. hi. aurora ah thank you for being so patient with me I know this has taken QUITE some time but I'm grateful for you sticking around nonetheless :3 — like I've stated, this isn't a trope I've ever written for, and I might've gotten certain aspects wrong, I'm only human, anyway heh enjoy :3

this is sort of (not very) proofread, but I am not responsible for any spelling mistakes and or grammatical errors, take that with my lawyer in court and not me. merry christmas

The bright light tickles your eyes, causing a subtle burn to settle across them. But you don’t turn your phone off, even though you probably should. In fact, you should’ve been asleep hours ago, it was late now. — For some reason you can’t let go of the small device in your hand, even as you feel sleep threatening to overtake your exhausted body. Instead you fight to stay awake. Forcing yourself to read the words written across the screen over and over until you knew them by heart. Your gaze returns to the headline:

“TOMORROW X TOGETHER, TOUR SETLIST”

Some song names are familiar, others aren’t. You tried to keep up with their newest albums, tried to learn the lyrics of their latest songs. But it was nearly impossible. For your stomach still turned whenever you heard his voice. It was so easily recognizable amongst the rest, and you curse him for having the voice of an angel. Part of you wants to listen to him forever, another part of you thinks you might go insane if you do.

Your thumb swipes across the screen, and you’re presented with pictures, pictures of them. They’re all older now, as are you. They look…mature? Like they’d grown into their features properly. Even him. He looked far from the man you’d fallen in love with back then, and perhaps he wasn’t, not anymore. — Your heart contracts at the sight of his boyish grin, it takes you right back. But it’s not enough to make you regret your decision.

“Mommy!”

Blinking away the tears that somehow had managed to accumulate in your eyes, you turn toward the door. The old wood is slightly ajar, and a small figure lingers by the threshold. Your hurt is immediately washed away, and you smile. “Yes, sweetheart?” — The shadow moves forward, and soon it creeps into the light casted by your phone. “Mommy, I had a nightmare..” He hiccups, tiny hands clutching the worn out shark plushie.

“Oh Teddy”, you sigh, flicking on the bedside lamp as you push yourself into a sitting position, discarding your phone on the bed. “Was it about the shadow monster again?” You wonder as you scoop your son into your arms. He nods as he clings to you, drawing in a small sniffle as you carry him back to his room. “I-It keeps coming back!” He wails as tears stream down his round face.

You frown, gently rocking back and forth as you glance around his room, eyes landing on the night light he always used, a blue mushroom. “How so?” — Teddy emits another sob before wiping his wet cheeks. “B-Because the l-light keeps turning o-off!” He says as he points to the very much working lamp by his bed. You hum as you set him down on the mattress, pulling the blue covers over his shark-pajama covered body.

“But this light is still turned on”, you counter as you turn to the blue mushroom lantern. Your son furiously shakes his head. “No! It wasn’t! And that’s why the shadow monster came!” His eyes darts across the small room, as if searching for the intruder. — Your hand on his cheek shifts his attention to you and you smile. “But you know what Teddy?” You ask to which your son quietly shakes his head. “You’ve got a shadow of your own”, you point to his shadow, portrayed on the wall and his eyes follow your movement.

“See? Your shadow is always with you, and who’s better at fighting a shadow monster than another shadow?” — Teddy doesn’t look entirely convinced as he watches his shadow mimic him as he lifts an arm. “But what if it can’t?” He wonders with a squeaky voice, and as he turns to you with wide eyes and furrowed brows, your heart drops. He looked exactly like his dad. You know that it was far from his fault, but every time you looked at him, you thought of what you had lost, of what you had sacrificed.

But just as your heart sinks, does it begin to beat again. Teddy looks at you expectantly, like he’s waiting for you to tell him that everything is going to be alright. Because you’re his whole world. And he’s yours. — You don’t regret your decision, because Teddy is the best thing that ever happened to you.

“Your shadow will never abandon you, and neither will I. The shadow monster won’t get you as long as we’re both here.” You lean in to press a kiss on his forehead and your son smiles. Then he turns back to his shadow on the wall, and when he waves, it waves back. — “Do you want me to get your lamp some new batteries, just in case?” you wonder and Teddy nods, “Yes please.”

The small mushroom light had a surprisingly difficult hatch leading to its battery unit, and you struggled for a good five minutes with getting it open. And as you crouch by the side of his bed, your son continues to watch in amusement as his mom fights to get the new working batteries into his night light. — “Mommy”, he suddenly says, and you don’t look up as you answer with a soft hum. He’s quiet for a moment after that, and you think he might not have had anything to say in the first place. But then he speaks up, his voice is hushed, almost as if he was afraid of asking the question:

“Why don’t I have a daddy?”

Your fingers slip against the hatch that suddenly pops open and you swallow. You knew that the question was bound to come sooner or later. You suppose you’d hoped for it not to be this soon. Many times you’d thought about how to bring the topic up. When he was ready, you’d told yourself. But none of the scenarios fabricated in your mind had involved being confronted like this.

“Well.. You see Teddy, all families are different..” You begin as you occupy yourself with shoving the new batteries into the lamp. Your son hums, his small fingers twiddling with his shark plushie. “I know!” He then exclaims and you turn to him with raised brows. Teddy smiles, exposing his uneven set of milk teeth as he does. “Ellie has two daddy’s!” He then continues, though his expression quickly morphs into a confused one, “so why does she have two but I have zero?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shuffle closer, leaning onto his bed as your hand reaches for his. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but your son beats you to it. “If…If I had a daddy, he could help you with those things.” Teddy points to the mushroom light you had struggled with for the past minutes and you feel a melancholic smile tug at the corners of your lips. Your mind recalls the many instances in which Beomgyu had tried to “mend” things around your apartment, undoubtedly failing each and every time. You knew that he would hardly be of any help.

Still, you didn’t have the heart to tell your son that. So you nod, your hand around his giving a small squeeze. “You’re right, he would.” — Teddy grins, and despite the fact that he’s missing two of his front teeth, you’re still reminded of his father. “Your daddy would be able to scare the shadow monster away for good, I reckon”, you murmur as your hand brushes through his unkempt hair.

Your son nods to himself, clutching his plushie tightly as he yawns. “Did he scare your shadow monster away too?” He suddenly asks, and you’re taken aback, blinking as your fingers still in his hair. Your shadow monster? You don’t even know if you’d ever had one. Maybe..? — “I suppose he did”, you finally say.

Teddy’s silent after that, and you peer over at him to see if he’s fallen asleep. He hasn’t. Instead you find him quietly observing his shadow, blinking slowly as his body grows heavy. With a final yawn, he says:

“Then I think he’d be a good daddy to me.”

⸝⸝

“Beomgyu, I know what I saw.”

The air of your small apartment is thick and heavy with dread. You swallow as you try to calm your trembling hands, clenching them into fists by your sides. — Your boyfriend, Beomgyu, runs a hand through his long hair, the blonde highlights falling everywhere as he shakes his head, undoubtedly frustrated. He hasn’t even taken off his jacket nor his shoes. You’d confronted him the second he stepped foot inside.

He sighs, brows knitting together as his eyes meet yours. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about”, he argues to which you scoff. — “I know enough.” You fold your arms across your chest, throwing a pointed look toward the Tv. Beomgyu’s gaze follows yours and you catch the subtle twitch of his jaw as his attention falls on the picture of himself.

His band had finally headlined, but not for the right reasons. You should’ve expected it. It was a given, wasn’t it? Dating someone famous like him, someone young and attractive. Of course there would be rumors. But they’re not about you and him. This girl… Hell you didn’t even know her. — But she must’ve been pretty enough for him to fuck.

“It’s a rumor babe!” Beomgyu exclaims as he takes a step in your direction, but you stop him. Hands raised high above your head, you shout for him to stay back. “It’s not though.” — Your voice trembles as you inhale. Your boyfriend regards you with an expression best described as perplexed, his jaw, previously tense, now slacked as he tries to make sense of your words.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You didn’t mean for it to sound so cold, so distant, but it did. And you can practically see his resolve crumbling as he shakes his head. “I mean…” You slowly begin, choking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. “The late nights, the non-returned calls, all my ignored texts…Don’t you think I get it?” Wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, you sniffle.

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he bites the inside of his cheek. His silence was loud and clear. You wanted to cry. — The first time your call went to his voicemail you brushed it off, but when he didn’t call you back that night, or the one after that, you’d grown worried. You called around for him, meeting nothing but dead-ends as none of his friends could advocate for his whereabouts. You texted him, again and again. He didn’t even read them.

Then he would turn up on your doorstep, at the most ungodly hour, begging for your forgiveness, promising to do better. You thought he might’ve been going through a rough time, so you let him inside. You let him inside your heart. You comforted him when he cried and you told him that things were going to be alright, that things were going to change. But they never did. And he never treated you better.

When you called Taehyun to ask if he was at practice, like he said he would be, only to be perceived as an idiot when Taehyun told you that he never showed up. It was then you knew that something was really wrong. A part of you thinks you’ve known for a while. Another part thinks you were too scared to bring it up, too scared to let him go. That part of you fought for his innocence for as long as it could.

But then he makes the headlines, and it’s not with you, but another woman. It confirmed what you had dreaded for so long. And if you didn’t act now, you were scared that you might never do.

“Do you honestly believe this shit?” He suddenly says as he throws an aggravated hand toward the Tv. Did you believe it? No, you couldn’t say that you did. Beomgyu was many things, a cheater wasn't one of them. Still, the way he acted, so nonchalantly trying to brush even a problem like this under the rug… It told you everything you needed to know about what kind of a person he was.

So you can only stare back at him, your eyes now empty as you slowly nod. “What else do you want me to believe?” You say, and your voice sounds monotone, almost robotic. — Beomgyu huffs as he shakes his head, his hand dragging across the side of his face as his narrowed gaze seizes you. “Well I don’t know, maybe me? Your fucking boyfriend?”

“Then give me one good reason.” You say, suddenly sounding irritated again. “Give me one reason to trust that you weren't out screwing someone else while I waited for you like an idiot.” — You give him about ten seconds to defend himself, watching as he scrambles for words. But when he doesn’t speak, you grow even more agitated. “See, you can't!”

“I had something important to do, okay?” He almost cuts you off and your brows furrow at the unreliable excuse. — “Something important? Like what? What could be more important than me? Than us?” You practically spit the question out, expecting at least a half-assed answer, but you’re met with none.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Beomgyu bites his bottom lip, his eyes drifting to the floor and you feel your heart sink to the same level. A bitter feeling blooms in your chest and your throat suddenly feels dry. You realize then that there was nothing else to say. This was it. Five months of your life completely wasted on someone who couldn’t give less of a fuck about you or your feelings.

“Out.”

The single word slices through the tense air and Beomgyu’s head snaps up as his eyes widen. “What?” He breathes but you only shake your head. “I want you out, now.” — He tries to object, but you won’t hear him out, you’d already made that mistake one too many times. Instead you have him leave, slamming the door behind him as he goes.

Your apartment becomes eerily silent after that, and so did the rest of your life.

You didn’t linger. That would be painful. Instead you packed whatever you thought was worth bringing along before you returned to the only place you could think of. Home. Shielded from the rest of the world, in a small village by the seaside, a place where only one knew you.

Your grandmother provided the love you had so desperately been craving for the past months of your life. She allowed you to settle into her home for a while. And for the first time in what felt like forever, things finally started to look up. — Only for them to come crashing down again as the heavy realization that you were not alone dawned upon you.

⸝⸝

“Mommy! Mommy! Look! Sharks!” Teddy exclaims as he rushes toward the arts section, eyes glued on the shark stickers before him. He’s so eager that he almost trips over his own feet before making it to his desired destination. — With a subtle roll of your eyes, you give in. “Fine, put them in the cart”, you sigh. Though nothing beats seeing your son’s face light up into a wide grin as he scurries over with his finds.

You don’t regret Teddy.

Not in the slightest. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Even if it meant giving up a lot of your life in order to make room for him in it. You were young, dumb and naive. And had it not been for your grandmother, you don’t know how you would’ve made it. — You owed her big time.

Still, you found that you enjoyed a quiet life. There was something special about raising Teddy in the very same environment you’d grown up in. From walks on the beach, collecting seashells and building sand castles.. To harvesting fresh strawberries in your grandmother’s garden during summer. Or the small marketplace in the center of town, bustling with life year around. — A quiet life. Far away from your past, hidden from its watchful and judging eyes.

Except today, your past seemed to have found you.

You’re almost done for the day, the ingredient list, clutched in your hand, had been nearly ticked off. But as you turn down toward the breakfast section, you’re met with what could’ve possibly been one of the most cruel pranks the world could pull.

An icy feeling washes over your body, the wheels of your cart coming to a squeaking stop in the middle of the aisle. Your eyes glue to the figure not even 10ft from you, immediately recognizing his sharp features. Dark and perfectly styled hair and a variety of jewelry dangling from his ears. He has yet to notice you, seemingly occupied with scanning the shelves before him. — Teddy stops too, his attention turning to the colorful packages of cereal on his left. You’re far too shocked to notice him scurrying to grab a box. And only when the high pitch of his voice breaks the thick silence do you jolt to life.

“Look! It’s the ones with sharks on!” He exclaims, practically shoving the cereal packaging against you as he flaunts the two sharks on the cover. Your heart drops as your son’s voice manages to attract not only your attention, but his as well. — You can practically feel the surprise radiate off of him as he turns to you, and then your name slips from his lips, and you know he knows.

You try to smile, forcing yourself to push down the dreadful feeling rising in your chest as he approaches. “Oh my god, Yeonjun?” Your words come out a short, breathless laugh and Yeonjun returns it with a small chuckle. “In the flesh”, he grins, hands now stuffed into his pockets as he studies you for a moment. “Shit, how long has it been?” He muses, a small frown etching its way to his face.

“Five years”, you reply, almost too quickly, you hope he doesn't pick up on it. But Yeonjun merely nods, muttering a quiet “Jesus, you’re right”, under his breath. You glance around, praying that he was alone, it seemed like he was. — It was impossible to know how many details Beomgyu had given them, what he’d told them, how he’d made them perceive you. But as your eyes meet his, you find no resentment in his gaze. Yeonjun looks happy to see you.

“You’ve been here all along?” He asks, sounding almost astonished. You nod, “My grandma owns a small house not far from here, I thought it’d be nice to stay somewhere close by.” Yeonjun hums in agreement, his lips parting, as if to say something, but he falls silent as his attention drifts to Teddy, clutching onto your leg as he demands attention. You catch the subtle raise of his brows as his gaze flickers between Teddy and you.

Dumbfounded, you clear your throat, “O-Oh, right. This is Teddy”, you say as you hoist the five year old into your arms, huffing at how heavy he’d gotten. Teddy studies Yeonjun’s perplexed expression, a grin on his tiny face as his small hands clutch at your shirt. “Shit, you’ve got a kid?” He finally exhales. You bite the inside of your check, nodding as you motion for your son to say hi. “Come on Teddy, why don’t you say hi to Yeonjun?”

The young boy extends his hand and Yeonjun takes it, “Nice to meet you, Teddy”, he says, the surprise slowly wearing off as he blinks a couple of times. Teddy giggles at the grown-up aspect of shaking someone's hand, and Yeonjun has to fight for your son to release his grip on him. — “Why don’t you go pick out a snack?” You tell him as you set him down once more, eager to rid yourself of him for a few minutes to talk to Yeonjun in private.

Teddy wasn’t very hard to convince and as soon as his sneakers hit the ground he was off, darting down the aisle without as much as a care in the world. “Don’t eat it before we pay!” You call out after him, not receiving a reply. — The silence that settles over you after that is beyond stale, and you find yourself avoiding Yeonjun’s gaze as best as you could.

“So..” He begins, the frown on his face still prominent. “I’m guessing you’ve found someone. els…” — “Oh god no!” You interrupt him before he can finish, the defensive edge to your voice palpable as you shake your head. “I um, I’m raising him alone..” You quickly add, trying to brush over who the father in question actually was.

“Oh.”

The conflicted expression on Yeonjun’s face seems to immediately ease up at your response. Weird. Why did he care? Has someone told him to care? Did he still care? — Now visibly relaxed, he lets his hands return to his pockets, the same careless grin on his face once more. “How old is he anyway?”

“Four”, you say, though quickly adding, “he’s turning five in a couple of months but likes to say that he is already.” — Yeonjun chuckles, shaking his head like he’s experienced the exact same events himself. “Growing up takes a great deal of time”, he muses, throwing a glance over his shoulder toward Teddy who was rummaging through the shelves by the far end of the aisle, flimsy hands grabbing at whatever he could find as he left chaos in his wake.

“The others would love to see you”, he then says, “We’re in town for two weeks, a small vacation between schedules.” The statement makes your heart skip over a beat. They want to see you? They weren’t mad at you? They didn’t hate you for walking out on their friend? — Your jaw was likely scraping the floor by that point because Yeonjun cleared his throat awkwardly as he hastily continued.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I totally get if you’re busy.” He scratches the back of his head, a nervous habit of his, “We’re going out for dinner and drinks tonight, you’re free to join us whenever, we would all appreciate your company.”

You swallow, processing the weight of his words. You hadn’t seen them, any of them, for five whole years. Would it be weird to just show up like that? And would he… “Will he be there?” The question slips out before you can stop it. But judging by the apologetic look on Yeonjun’s face, you’d guess you were correct. “He is part of the group”, he murmurs, slightly sheepish as he fiddles with the silver hoop in his ear.

“It’s fine”, you shake your head, “it was a long time ago.” Yeonjun nods, his expression unreadable as he takes a small breath. “Does he… Does he know? He didn’t tell me about.. Well you know..” — You shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip as you push your hair back. “He doesn’t know, and I’d appreciate it if he didn’t either, at least not for now”, you practically plead, sending him a hopeful look.

He blinks but then slowly nods, uttering a quiet, “Yeah, no of course. It’d just be weird right?” You quickly nod, “Right. It would.” There’s an awkward and anticlimactic silence that follows, the two of you glancing around, not knowing where to avert your gaze. Your mind scrambles for something to help fill the agonizing gap of your conversation. But Yeonjun manages to beat you to it.

“He’s changed, you know. He’s not the same guy he was five years ago.” You glance up at him, meeting his hopeful eyes as Yeonjun tries to salvage the ruins of the relationship you and his friend once had. “I don’t know what happened between you two, Beomgyu refuses to tell me anything but I.. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

You can’t help but feel bad, feel bad for Yeonjun, and for the others, left confused as you took off all those years ago. Perhaps it was guilt that steered your decision. — Dinner and drinks, it couldn’t be all bad? It was harmless, and you did miss the others. So you nod, “I’d love to join you.”

⸝⸝

“Couple of drinks? With him?”

The air inside the small kitchen suddenly felt thick, the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies no longer lingered and the once familiar light pink walls were slowly closing in on you. With a heavy sigh you bring the porcelain cup to your lips, sipping on the warm home-brewed tea. Your grandma sits in front of you, the rounded table you’d had so many dinners by, now felt miles long, putting you and her on different sides of the world as she glares you down.

Despite the wrinkles lining her face, and the way her eyes had slowly sunken, her keen gaze was as sharp as ever. You felt yourself go rigid under it. “Well”, you set your cup down, “He was right in front of me, it wasn’t like I could just say no.” The meek excuse does little to ease the older lady’s already fragile nerves and your grandma shakes her head, her lips drawn into a thin line.

Hopelessly, you sigh. “Nana, it’s been five years. And besides, I’m going to see all of them, not just him.”

Call her sidekick, but your grandma had always had a thing for trusting her gut. Whether it had been blatantly ignoring medical advice given to her by doctors, insisting on drinking her own concoction of chamomile and honey. Or leaving the house without an umbrella even when the forecast promised rain, just because she “felt” that it was bound to be a sunny day. — So to change her mind on a matter like this, would be damn near impossible.

“You’re going to end up right back where you started”, she mutters, her old and wrinkly fingers gripping the edges of her own cup. “Oh come on nana, you don’t know that..” — “I do!” She insists, her voice rising three octaves as she slams the teacup down onto the wooden table. Holding your tongue, you glance toward the window, shielded by the checkered curtains as they flutter in the wind, you could make out the glimpse of your son as he played out in the garden.

Teddy had always made do with just himself, the absence of both a father and siblings had never seemed to bother him. Yet you couldn’t help but wish for something more for him. Something that you were unable to give. The feeling ate away at your heart, slowly but surely. — “Think you can have him, just for tonight? I’ll come pick him up in the morning”, you say, nail scraping against the handpainted flowers of your cup.

Your grandma sighs, the realization that you were about to go against her wishes dawning upon her. “I remember how you looked, that night you showed up on my doorsteps five years ago.” She begins, her voice a low drawl and you can already tell where this is going. “Nana…” But she only hushes you, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. “You were heartbroken, dear.” The statement hits you like a sharp slap in the face, leaving you speechless as you watch your grandmother fiddle with her nearly full teacup.

“I do not want you to make the same mistake again”, she sighs, and she doesn’t sound angry anymore, only sad, as if the news of your death had already been delivered. You reach out, hand grasping hers, she felt fragile in your palm, and you’re overcome with an intense need to reassure her.

“Then it’s my mistake to make.”

⸝⸝

The clacking of heels hitting the cold pavement fills the night air and you bring your arms around yourself, shivering in the cool breeze. Despite it being mid August, the biting cold seemed to know no bounds. With your heart hammering in your chest, you near the small bar, chatter echoing out onto the cobbled road.

You hadn’t known what to wear, and it wasn’t like you had anyone to ask. Your social life had severely decreased after moving out here and having Teddy. But you think the crimson dress was sophisticated enough, its simplicity toning the deep color down a tad. A coat, you should’ve brought a coat. Spoiled rotten by the warmth of July, the thought of bringing anything besides what you already wore.

It doesn’t matter now, you thought. Heaving a small sigh, you climb the three steps leading to the crowded pub. It’s warm here, thank god. Your eyes scan the rounded tables, all occupied by larger parties. Their conversations flow past you, buzzing in your ears, it’s loud, yet you can’t seem to make out a single word they’re saying.

It’s not until Yeonjun’s voice pierces through the air as he calls for you, that your searching gaze finally lands on a pair of familiar faces. Seated by one of the large windows, they all turn to you as you approach, all but one. — Kai is the first to get up, enveloping you in a tight hug before you even get a word out. You’re taken aback by the muscular feel of his arms, the tight grip he had on you represented little of the young boy you’d once known. But when he pulls back, the same boyish grin cracks across his lips.

“I’ve missed you!” He pouts, going in for yet another hug, this one just as tight as the first. You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering in a strange manner at the fact that your absence had actually meant something to them. “I’ve missed you too, Kai.”

From there, the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor fills the bar as they all get up to take turns hugging you. Taehyun had also grown quite a lot since you’d last seen him, and Soobin wore glasses now. Yeonjun settled for a handshake as the two of you had met previously that day, thanking you once more for coming. — But when he pulls back, you catch a glimpse of the man you’d been dreading to see.

Beomgyu sits on Yeonjun’s right, his gaze intently fixated on the beer in his hand, watching as the yellow liquid swirls in the glass. The blond hair on his head immediately caught your attention as it fell evenly in front of his eyes. He doesn’t make a move to stand up, or as much as acknowledge you, and an awkward and anticipating silence falls over your small group.

Taehyun is the first to act as he grabs a chair from a nearby table, making room for you between Yeonjun and himself. You thank him, taking a seat as you busy yourself with straightening out your dress. From the corner of your eye, you catch Yeonjun’s knee nudging against Beomgyu’s as the older signals for his bandmate to say hi. Only then does he look up. — You don’t have time to avert your gaze, and your eyes lock with his.

The once warm brown now looked stale, cold and distant. He looks a lot paler than last you’d seen him, though that was five years ago. Beomgyu gives you a small, almost unnoticeable nod, you do the same before quickly diverting your attention elsewhere.

It doesn’t take long for the others to warm up, your conversations ranging from light-hearted small talk to deep and almost philosophical questions. “Have you been here all along?” Kai wonders as he shoves a piece of meat into his mouth. You nod, explaining how your grandma lived close by, mentioning the beautiful scenery and the market downtown. You avoided the topic of Teddy, though you would send Yeonjun a small glance every now and again, thankful that he didn’t bring it up either.

You can’t remember how many drinks you’d had, perhaps a few too many. But you were willing to do anything to ease the tension Beomgyu’s mere presence caused. He didn’t say much, in fact you think he might’ve not said anything at all. The others tried their best to engage him in whatever topic was being discussed, but he never gave more than a short sentence for answer.

Part of you feels guilty. Should you not have come? Were you making things awkward? But Taehyun’s reassuring hand on top of yours immediately washes any worries away as he sends you a warm smile. “Let’s order another round!” He says, immediately calling the waiter over. — Though he’s barely managed to lift a finger when Beomgyu’s hand suddenly clasps around his wrists. “I think we’ve had enough”, he says, breaking his nearly eternal silence.

Taehyun looks surprised as he shrugs his friend’s hand off, watching as Beomgyu settles back into his seat, an indifferent expression on his face. “Come on now, don’t be such a buzzkill”, Kai argues as he, too, makes a move to call the waiter over. — “Do you want to get her drunk?” Beomgyu suddenly snaps, his once distant gaze becoming sharp. It was the first time he’d as much as addressed your presence that night, apart from your brief greeting.

With a perplexed expression you turn to him, only to find him already watching you. “What are you on about-” Soobin begins but is quickly cut short by his friend. “You’re a lightweight”, he comments, stating it as if it were written on your forehead. Part of you had forgotten just how much he knew about you, how much he still seemed to know about you. It made your chest twist uncomfortably as your face morphed into a frown.

“I think I’ll be fine”, you huff, ignoring the question glances you received from the others. Without waiting for him to object, you call the waiter over yourself, ordering all of you another round of shots. — Beomgyu’s heavy gaze remained on you the whole night after that, all of him radiating with a feeling you couldn’t quite place.

You would rather die than admit that he was right. But after your fifth shot, the room started moving. With great effort, you grip the edge of the table, leaning forward as you let your eyes fall shut. “Hey, are you okay?” Taehyun’s voice carries a resemblance of worry as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. Slowly nodding, you mutter out a quiet, “Yeah.. Just need some air.” — “I’ll help you out”, Yeonjun offers, but you politely decline him.

“It’s fine, stay, I’ll only be five minutes.” With the help of Taehyun you manage to stand up on wobbly knees. Yeonjun looks more than concerned as he reaches out for you. “Are you sure?” He asks, brows knitting together as he watches you. “Yes, thank you”, you huff, maneuvering past the crowded tables as you head for the door, eager to get away from their prying eyes.

The cool night air is comforting as it washes over your scorching hot body. Your disoriented eyes search for a place to slump down, eventually settling on the side of the pavement. The cobbled stone is ice cold against your bare legs, a stark contrast to the alcohol simmering beneath the surface of your skin. Inhaling, you tilt your head back, letting your eyes close as you drink in the fresh oxygen.

It takes you about a minute to realize that you’d forgotten your bag, containing your phone. There was no way for you to keep track of time now, much less contact anyone. But you can’t find it in you to care, the buzz of liquor far too strong for you to focus on much else.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the sounds of approaching footsteps intrude on your silence. Not bothering to acknowledge who it might be, you stay where you are, leaning back on your hands as you let the cool breeze caress your face. — Not until the stranger takes a seat next to you, does your brain register that something might be up.

Cracking an eye open, you nearly lose your balance as you’re met with Beomgyu’s indifferent expression. He’s clutching your bag in his hands, slowly reaching out as he hands it to you. “You forgot this”, he mutters, the words barely audible. — Embarrassed you thank him, trying your hardest to ignore the way your fingers brush against one another as you take it from him.

You busy yourself with checking its contents, trying your hardest not to think about the person sitting next to you. Beomgyu on the other hand, remains quiet as he gazes ahead, his arms resting atop his knees as he bites the inside of his cheek. You come to realize that this is the first time you’d actually gotten a proper look at him all night. And you take this moment to study the contour of his face, the sharp bridge of his nose, his high cheekbones, his jaw, much more defined now than it was five years ago.

Beomgyu looked different. He looked like a man.

He wasn’t the only one who’d changed of course. You had too, in more ways than you’d ever thought possible. So perhaps, just maybe, this wasn’t the Beomgyu you’d known back then. Would you ever get an answer to that question? It was hard to tell. — But even with light and blond hair, Beomgyu looked exactly like his son. They were too similar, almost a replica of one another. And the sight before you, made your chest churn.

“I should… Probably go home”, your words come out slightly slurred, your speech becoming lazy and slow. But all you could think about was him. Beomgyu hums, rolling his thumbs over one another as he keeps his eyes ahead. “You’re drunk”, he states and you almost want to scoff at the obvious remark. — “So are you”, you retort, not oblivious to the three beers he’d chugged as he avoided conversation.

He shakes his head, “I’m not.” — “Not nearly enough at least”, he then sighs. You wonder what he meant by that, but you never get the chance to ask. “I’ll get you a cab”, he mutters, already rising to his feet.

It happens before you can even register it, the way your hand reaches out.

And when your fingers wrap around his wrist, he freezes, his jaw clenching as he turns to look at you for what would’ve been the third time that evening. You don’t know why you stopped him, why you felt the need to prolong the already awkward moment between the two of you. But you couldn’t let him go, not yet, not when you’d just found him after five whole years. Because a small part of you, a part of you that held no resentment for him, a part of you that you kept hidden, a part of you that had missed him. It made you cling to him, as pathetic as it may look.

“Wait”, your short breath makes him tense even further, his brows pulling together as he slumps back against the pavement. “I…” You trail off, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to navigate your foggy mind. There was nothing you could say to make things better, nothing you could say to change the past. — But Beomgyu wasn’t mad at you, right? He wouldn’t have come out here if he was.

Your eyes flicker over to meet his, the same dark and alluring ones that had drawn you in all those years ago. Maybe, a small part of him had missed you too. — His gaze drops to your lips first, the way it had so many times before, tongue darting out to subconsciously wet his own.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your quiet whisper seems to echo down the empty street and you swallow. But the statement isn’t a lie. More than anything you craved the warmth of another body against your own, you’d craved it for five years.

Beomgyu expression morphs into one you couldn’t quite place, one you didn’t know how to read. His jaw relaxes, eyebrows returning to their normal position as he emits a soft sigh, his warm breath fanning across your already hot face. “You’re drunk”, he says, but he’s already got an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. The nostalgic scent of his cologne fills your senses, easily overpowering the buzz of the alcohol.

“So are you”, you mumble, the palm of your hand caressing his cheek. Beomgyu lets his eyes flutter closed, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his. And when he opens them again, they immediately find yours. — “Yeah”, he exhales, “I am.”

Five years you had gone without kissing him. But as he pressed his lips against yours, time seemed to cease. His arm around your body keeps you close, the other one finding its way to the back of your hair. You cradle his face between your hands, scared to let him go even when it gets hard to breathe. — Tasting the alcohol on his tongue as he slips it inside your mouth. It’s a bitter taste, reminding you of anger you’d wasted on him. The useless pain and the useless suffering.

“We shouldn’t do this”, Beomgyu exhales, separating only an inch from you as he rests his forehead against yours. You shake your head, ignoring the way your chest contracted at the simple statement. Instead you force your lips back on his, fingers twisting in his hair as you bring him impossibly close.

His hands slide down your body, tracing your figure with a sense of recognition, like he’d just stumbled across something he thought he’d forgotten. He settles on your hips, gently pushing you back as he breaks the longing kiss. — “You should go home..” He murmurs, his sharp nose sliding along the side of your neck as he trails kisses over your warm skin. Beomgyu’s words often contradicted his actions. You knew that. But it didn’t help your situation in the slightest.

“Come with me.”

It’s not a request but a demand, desperate as you cling to him, your eyes pleading with his. Pulling away from your neck, he bites the inside of his cheek. “I can’t”, he says, and the words hurt more than they should. You had expected him to deny you, why wouldn’t he? Five years without as much as a message. Five years of not knowing where you were, if you were okay. Five years of living in the dark.

Perhaps you deserved it.

But you weren’t the only one in the wrong. He hurt you. He hurt you so bad that you saw no other option than to run. Run as far as you could possibly get. Until your legs trembled and ached, until the pain in your body overpowered the pain in your heart. — You shouldn’t crave his presence, you don’t know why you did. But if you left him now, you knew that you would never be okay again.

Tears coat your lashes, threatening to spill at any moment. You can see the guilt in his eyes as you glance up. Silently you plead, drawing in a shaky breath only for it to come back out as a small sigh. — “Can you please just take me home then?”

⸝⸝

Beomgyu holds your hand during the whole cab ride home. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. It’s a heavy silence. You steal a few glances his way, the vehicle is dark but under the light of the bright moon, you can make out the details of his face. He looks lost in thought, weighed down by the reality of your situation. His thumb strokes the top of your hand absentmindedly. You stay perfectly still, not wanting him to stop.

But as the car pulls into the small and narrow street, and your quaint house comes into vision, your stomach drops. You don’t want the night to end. Not like this. Would he even want to see you again? Did you take it too far when you kissed? Was he upset? — The screeching sound of tires against concrete has you emitting a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

You glance over at Beomgyu, he’s watching you with an almost melancholy expression and you have to remind yourself why you walked out on him all those years ago. It was better this way, wasn’t it? — Your hand turns cold as soon as you let go of his. “Thank you for tonight”, it’s polite, too polite, too formal. But you say it nonetheless. He nods, his eyes never leaving you as you climb out of the car.

Only when the door slams shut do you feel a sense of relief. You don’t wait for it to drive off, that would just hurt even more. Instead you turn on your heel, walking up the scattered stone path that leads to your door. Your hand digs through your small bag in search of your keys. The metal glints under the moonlight, and the jiggling noise fills the quiet night air.

You’re glad Teddy was at your grandma’s, you don’t think you could bear facing him in this state, nor in the morning for that matter. It wasn’t his fault that he looked like him. Your son had done nothing to warrant this life. So why did it hurt so much to look at him? — Those thoughts… Sometimes it made you question if you really were a good mother. Because what kind of mother was unable to look her own child in the eyes, just because they represented something she’d lost.

Teddy was your whole world now. So why can’t you forget him?

You’re lost in a storm of self-pitying thoughts, fumbling with the charms on the keychain as you curse yourself for drinking so much. — Too caught up in unlocking your front door, you miss the rushed sets of footsteps behind you. Not until a familiar hand wraps around your wrist. His familiar cologne invades your already drunk senses, and you barely have time to turn around before Beomgyu’s lips crash against yours.

This time he kisses you without hesitating, like he knows the road ahead, and like he’s not afraid of it. You let him, because you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to deny him. And you don’t want to.

He blindly reaches for the keys, twisting the lock before pushing your door open. You stumble inside your dark hallway, shoes flying everywhere as you kick them off. The framed drawings, made by no less than your son, rattle against the walls when Beomgyu pushes you up against it. His hands waste no time roaming your body, now without stopping as they reach the hem of your crimson dress. He slides the material up your thighs, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as you pull him close.

Your soft moan echoes down the hall as he bites down on your bottom lip, his fingers digging into the skin over your hips as he presses you so far against the wall that you think you might make a dent in it. — It’s as if he's trying to communicate a thousand words with one single kiss. The sentences come out incoherent and messy, in no particular order and without making any sense. Still, you kiss him like it was your last. For all you know it might be.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He groans into your mouth. Your mind goes blank at the question, and you blink before quickly pointing down the dark hallway. “Last door on the right”, you say and Beomgyu doesn't need to hear anything else as he hoists you into his arms, moving through the quiet house with impatient steps. — When passing Teddy’s room you make sure to pull him in for yet another kiss, diverting his attention from anything that might get his mind elsewhere, places you didn’t need nor want it to be.

Your bedroom is sparsely decorated, all your efforts spent on making sure your son had everything he needed. But Beomgyu doesn’t seem to care in the slightest as he settles you against the mattress, quickly climbing on top of you. Your legs tangle in a mess of limbs as he places open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, moving down your neck and collarbone. His teeth nipping at your sensitive skin makes you forget about the seriousness of your situation, about the consequences and the day that would follow.

His hands yank at your dress, “Get this off”, he grunts, frustrated when it won’t budge. Your back arches off the bed, arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss along his jawline. “There’s a zipper on the back”, you murmur and Beomgyu’s fingers immediately slither behind your waist, reaching up only to tug the zip down. — It takes him about five seconds to pull your dress along your body, leaving you in the black lace set you’d picked out for the occasion. Back then, all those years ago, he would’ve made a sly comment about the suggestive underwear, but not now, not today.

Today he can only stare, in awe of the woman before him. His silence makes you squirm, even more so when he leans down to press a kiss to your still clothed nipple. “You’ve always been so gorgeous”, he murmurs, fingers sliding between your thighs as he pushes both middle and ring finger against your cunt, rubbing you through the dark lace. You whine, nails digging into his shoulders as you wordlessly beg for more.

Beomgyu groans against your chest when he feels your knee slide between his legs, your fingers fiddling with the buckle of his belt. “We shouldn’t”, he sighs, repeating the words as if they were a prayer. “You’re drunk and..” He kisses between your breasts, one of his hands reaching for the clasp behind your back. “And I’m…Fuck.” Beomgyu leans back as he rips your bra from your body, immediately caressing your perfect tits with his hand, leaning down to wrap his mouth around one of your hardened nipples.

“I don’t care”, you nearly sob, undoing his belt before pulling it through the loops and discarding it on the floor. “You should.” Beomgyu whispers against your flaming hot skin, the hand between your legs pushing your damp panties aside as he slides two fingers between your folds, letting your arousal pool onto his hand.

Your moans bounce off the bedroom walls, repeating themselves like a broken record when Beomgyu slides a finger inside your pleading cunt, his thumb pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. — “Tell me to stop”, he says, and it sounds almost like he’s begging. You shake your head, jaw slacking as your thighs quiver, hips threatening to buck up against the heel of his hand.

His kisses travel from your abused tits and up your neck once more. He’s so close that you feel every short exhale against the shell of your ear. Every small hitch of his breath and every groan he tries to conceal. You feel everything. The vibrations of his voice when he says: “Tell me to stop. I can’t stop unless you tell me to.”

With your hands either side of his face, you bring his lips to yours. His dark eyes are wide and filled to the brim with emotion, emotions so strong that no words could ever come close to describing them. “I don’t want you to stop.” You couldn’t bear it if he did, you would never forgive yourself if you let this moment slip between your fingers.

Beomgyu swallows, and your gaze follows the bob of his adams apple, trailing down his chest, landing on the shirt he wore, halfway unbuttoned. “Never stop”, you say, reaching for the buttons as you pop them open one by one. He lets you, watching with half lidded as you push the shirt from his shoulders, letting your hands wander across his naked skin. Beomgyu shudders, the fingers against your cunt completely losing sense of direction as he inhales sharply.

He sighs against your lips when you pull him down for another kiss, letting you slip your tongue inside his mouth without protest. “S’a bad idea”, he murmurs, his speech slurred. You ignore his half-assed warnings, pulling his zipper open as you push his jeans down. — “You’re not thinking straight and- fuck.” His sentence is cut short when your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, thumb pressing against his flushed tip with urgency.

It’s like a switch is flipped within him, his body jolting to life as he kisses you back with a need that is near overwhelming. You whimper when he adds a second finger inside your fluttering cunt, spreading your thighs as far as he can, his eyes steadily focused on the way your body so willingly accepted him in.

“Please”, your request slices through the hot air, “I can’t wait any longer.”

You really couldn’t. Five years you had waited for him. Five years your body had longed for his touch. Even five minutes could feel like an eternity when your future was uncertain. But this, this you were certain of. — And you’d be damned if you didn’t get your way.

Beomgyu quickly obliges, his fingers withdrawing from your core, though quickly replaced by the head of his cock as he pushes past your puffy folds. You whine as he jerks against your aching clit, thighs twitching in pleasure. You reach down between your bodies, firmly pressed together, trembling fingers wrapping around his thick shaft as you guide him inside of you.

The groan he lets out easily drowns out your whimper as his forehead comes to rest atop your own. You help him slide in slowly, making sure to memorize the way he stretched your pulsating cunt out, your clit nearly spasming when his thumb swipes across it. Once fully sheathed inside of you, Beomgyu sighs.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

His eyes linger on yours, and though you’d had sex with him more than once, this time somehow felt more intimate. Because this time it wasn’t just sex. It was an escape, an escape from the reality that awaited outside your bedroom walls, the reality that would rise just as the sun would the next morning. This short moment was all you had. You both knew that. The knowing somehow made it even more special. It connected you.

Quickly trying to shake the uncomfortable thoughts away, your hands reach for his hair, fingers tangling in the blonde mess of locks as you urged him to move, to do something, anything. — The bed squeaks as Beomgyu snaps his hips against yours, thick cock sliding in and out of your warm cunt, your bodies joined together in one, for the first time in five years.

And perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps you’d wake up filled with dread and regret. Perhaps you’d wake up to find him gone, vanished from your life, just like you had vanished from his. And perhaps this was a cruel thing to do, not only to him but to yourself. — Letting your desires win as you give in to the greed of longing, of wanting, wanting something you already know you won’t like in the end. But right now, this is everything you need. And for the first time in five years, you put yourself first.

Beomgyu was usually one to talk when you were intimate, whether it was insults or praise, he would always be sure to talk you through it. But not tonight. Tonight his mind is occupied with everything that is you. Far too busy with tracing your every curve, kissing as much of you as he could, lips moving down your chest, across your collarbone, over your arms. Almost like he’s scared to blink and find you gone. He needs to remember you exactly as you are. Because if anything you need to live on, at least in his mind.

You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to sink even deeper inside of you, pulling a strained groan from him as he shudders. His kisses are centered to your neck now, and he murmurs something incoherent against your skin. You want to ask him what he said, but you don’t have to, for he repeats himself, this time louder. — “I haven’t…” His lips slide down your neck, teeth scraping across its juncture and you squirm.

“Haven’t thought about anyone else.” — “Only you.”

His confession makes your breath hitch, your fingers in his hair going lax as you peer down at him. What did he mean by that? — Seemingly reading your thoughts, Beomgyu’s pace slows down, if just barely, his head lifting from your neck as his eyes lock onto yours. “I’ve tried”, he mumbles, hands trailing along your chest, stopping by your waist. “I can’t”, he inhales, “I only see you.”

Your lips part, at loss for words. Only you? Had he tried to move on but…failed? Your brows pull together, a perplexed frown. “For…For how long?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. — “Five years.” He says, holding your gaze as he lets out the breath he’d been holding. Five years. You’d expected him to have forgotten about you, to have written you off as a bad experience and moved on with his life. But he…couldn’t?

“Do you get it now?” He murmurs, lips hovering above your own. “Do you understand why we shouldn’t be doing this?” He sounds near desperate, yet his hips continue to rock against yours, his finger circling your throbbing clit as he elicits a soft moan from you. — You don’t reply, you wouldn’t even know what to say. Overcome by the desire of having him as close as possible, in every single way you could think of.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. He lets his eyes flutter closed, his long and soft lashes caressing your cheeks as your noses press together. Every slow and deliberate thrust of his makes you writhe in pleasure, wishing for the moment to last forever. — The five years of pain and the longing meant little when he was this close to you. And your orgasm washes over you when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit one final time.

Beomgyu groans when he feels you clench around his cock, the soft noises spilling from your lips were angelic in his ears as he kisses you through your climax. — Only when the aftershocks have simmered down and your body begins to feel heavy, do you open your eyes again. And this time you know what to say.

“I only see you too.”

And perhaps it was a mistake.

But right now, this is everything you need.

⸝⸝

It wasn’t long until the sun rose again, basking your bedroom in a warm light. The first intruding rays of sunshine hits your face, making your eyes press together as you try to close the day out. You don’t move, afraid that everything would become real if you did. Perhaps you could just lay here forever, frozen in time, unable to think and unable to speak. It was an almost pleasant thought.

But you soon sit up, pulling your tired body into a slumped position as you grab ahold of your pounding head. Fuck, just how much did you drink? — It’s with great effort that you crack an eye open, scanning your lonesome bedroom with hazy vision. Your gaze falls on him. Sprawled out across the mattress, blanket thrown over his hips, barely concealing his naked body from your view, Beomgyu sleeps soundly.

So it did actually happen. It hadn’t been just a slip of thought, a pleasant dream.

Taking the moment to study his sleeping form, your fingers itch to reach out and touch him. You find yourself envious of his peacefulness. Envious of his relaxed muscles, envious of his unbothered expression. You envy the soft breaths he emits as his mind remains shielded by the figments of his dreams. You wished you could dream too. — Anything, you would give anything to not be conscious right now, to not have to deal with the consequences of last night.

In the morning light, everything looked different. — You’re not so sure that’s a good thing.

Somewhere on the floor, amongst the mess of discarded clothes, your phone vibrates. The blaring sound slices your ears like knives, and with a small groan, you pull yourself from the bed. — The call runs out, but it’s not long before it starts again. Following its source, you rummage through the garments, finally grasping the device in your hand. But as your unfocused eyes finally settle on the screen, you suddenly turn stone cold sober.

11am.

Fuck. You were supposed to pick Teddy up an hour ago. Your grandma's name flashes across the screen, phone buzzing in your hand as you stare at the call, dumbfounded. — A quiet grunt behind you snaps your attention back to Beomgyu who was shifting on the mattress. He mumbles a string of incoherent nonsense, quickly making you power off your phone as you rush to his side.

“Fuck, shit- You need to wake up!”

His whole body writhes as you shake him by his shoulders, making his head fall back as he groans. “Wake up!” You practically yell, forcing the sleep from his system as you try and tug him into a sitting position. — Beomgyu huffs, propping himself up on his elbows as he squints up at you through tired eyes.

“What…What’s going on..?” He murmurs, running a disoriented hand through his blond hair, spreading it in all directions. Had it not been for the fact that you were late to pick up your son, and that the realization that last night had been a mistake, a grave one, you probably would’ve found the sight of him rather cute.

But you can’t fathom any other words beside, “You need to leave. Now.” Without waiting or a response you turn back to the floor, gathering his clothes before shoving them in his arms. Beomgyu, who's still half asleep, rubs his groggy eyes as he gingerly takes his jeans from you. — “Is somethin’ wrong?” He asks, his voice laced thick and raspy as he tugs the pants up his thighs, searching for his belt.

You nearly jump at his words, exhaling a short breath as you turn to look at him. “Everything is wrong”, you say, arms wrapping around your torso, hugging the old t-shirt you’d thrown on tight. — Beomgyu frowns, fastening his belt as he reaches for his shirt. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He wonders as he tugs the fabric over his head, “Thought we were good, no?”

Good?

Swallowing a scoff, you instead bite the inside of your cheek. “I…”, your nails dig into your upper arms, “It’s complicated..” Your words were empty, he knew that too. You know he did.

Beomgyu huffs, running a hand through his hair one final time as he glances you up and down. “I can see that”, he mutters, quickly averting his gaze, causing you to do the same. The floorboards in which your eyes landed seemed very interesting at that moment. You follow the soft trails of wood, the sharp corner where one plank met the other, the slight gradient in their ever so warm and brown tone. — It’s not long until you can feel his attention on you again.

“You should probably leave..”

You don’t want him to leave. Or maybe you did. — You wanted the regret to go away, you wanted the guilt to stop eating away at your chest, slowly taking over your body and your soul. It would never go away if he didn’t go away, at least so you thought. Your arms have started to hurt, and you would surely draw blood if you didn’t ease the grip in which your hands dug into your skin.

“You think it was a mistake.” It’s not a question but a statement, and he says it like it was written in the stars. Yes. This had all been a mistake and you should’ve never let him kiss you, you should’ve never taken him home and you should’ve never let him in your bed. — You should’ve never opened your heart for him again.

Your following silence weighs heavy. And mere moments later, he’s moving, dodging you, as if afraid that you’d explode if he came too close. He pushes the bedroom door open, and you’re quick to follow, quietly trailing behind. — With your head pounding and blood rushing beneath the surface of your skin, you pray he doesn’t see anything he’s not supposed to. Kicking away the shark plushie discarded in the hallway before he even notices it. And when he steps into his shoes, you make sure to stand before the wall containing all Teddy’s drawings.

Neither of you say anything. And you’re certain that he won’t. But when the sun hits his face as he steps outside, he suddenly stops, slowly turning around as he looks at you. Under the bright light of day, his eyes looked warm once more, not the cold and distant look they'd held back at the restaurant, nor the lustful one from last night. — Right now he only looked like Beomgyu.

His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, but he doesn’t move to kiss you. — “I didn’t think it was a mistake.” Is all he says, and he lets the words linger, even though it’s clear he isn’t expecting a response. And when the moment passes, he turns back as he walks down the stoney pathway leading out onto the street.

You can’t pull yourself from the doorway, watching helplessly as he disappears in the horizon. It was obvious now that he had missed you just as much as you had missed him. Perhaps even more. — The thought scared you.

⸝⸝

Two weeks.

They would be in town for two more weeks, then they would be gone. Two weeks. You could do that. All you had to do was not slip up, to not look his way, to not allow yourself the pleasure of feeling anything but hatred for him. You had to forget that anything ever happened between the two of you, and you had to obliterate the fact that you’d enjoyed it.

But it was hard. Nearly impossible even.

Yeonjun thought it’d be a good idea to spend time together. You didn’t think so. Because suddenly you’re forced to come face to face with the person you were longing to forget. Every single one of your mistakes, all stored in one man, and that was him. The mistakes you were running from and the mistakes you were ashamed of. Now they were being played on repeat before your very eyes.

Beomgyu seemed to be everywhere.

He holds the door for you, and your gaze locks with his. A fluttery feeling surges within your chest. You remind yourself that he forgot your 6 month anniversary.

He gives you the last strawberry on your picnic, ignoring the glances he receives from the others. You take it, your fingers brushing against one another, a jolt of electricity rushing between the two of you. You remind yourself that he always made you eat dinner alone.

He asks you how your day was. Trying his hardest to strike a conversation with you. You remind yourself that he forgot to reply for three days.

He compliments your hair. You remind yourself that you hate him.

But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many bad and hurtful memories you forced yourself to relive, it didn’t help. — Your heart still beats uncontrollably around him, your palms feel sweaty whenever he’s near and suddenly, you’re at a loss for words.

A week and a half passes. It draws by agonizingly slow, but at the same time, it all seems to go by too fast. You don’t know if you want it to end or not. Part of you is relieved to have him gone in a matter of three days, another part of you is near heartbroken. Did he feel the same? You wanted to ask him, you wanted to tell him what’s on your mind and you wanted him to understand. But Beomgyu had never been understanding.

Teddy had been spending the majority of his days with his great grandma. And while he had plenty of fun, you missed your son. — It was why you canceled on Yeonjun last minute when he asked if you were joining them by the beach. Instead you spent your afternoon with Teddy, out in your small yard as you lay in the grass, taking turns painting a great white shark, Teddy’s favorite.

“Don’t you think it needs a bigger fin?” You ask, pointing toward the half-painted shark. Your son purses his lips, gripping the brush between his small hands tightly. “He needs bigger teeth too”, he states, blatantly ignoring your request for a larger fin as he instead draws sharp fangs in its mouth.

It didn’t matter what you did, you lived for every second with Teddy. He eased your worries without even knowing it. — Brushing your fingers through his unkempt hair, you’re suddenly reminded of Beomgyu. They both had the same, thick and untame hair, standing in all directions when they woke up, and an easy target for the wind. Teddy also had dimples when he smiled, and his eyes were the same warm and brown shade as his dad’s.

Sometimes you feel guilty. Guilty for keeping someone as precious as his son from Beomgyu. And perhaps it made you a bad person, a selfish and an evil one. Someone who only thought about herself, fleeing when things got hard and refusing to acknowledge her own feelings. — Or maybe you were just scared. Heartbroken, alone and terrified. You often made excuses like that for yourself, justifying your own wrongdoings by pointing out the faults of others.

That was your biggest flaw.

Not only were you being unfair toward Beomgyu, but Teddy. Robbing him of a childhood spent in the presence of his father. Were you really going to put your own suffering above the needs of your child? It wasn’t what good mothers did, was it?

Your silence seems to have rubbed him the wrong way, because it’s only a moment later when Teddy turns his head to look at you. “What’s wrong mommy?” He asks, and the genuine concern vowed into his words makes your chest churn. — “Nothing baby, mommy’s just thinking.” You smile, ruffling the mess of hair atop his head as your attention returns to the painting. The shark had gotten both bigger and sharper teeth as well as the bigger fin you’d requested.

“You shouldn’t think too much”, he hums, swiping the brush absentmindedly across the canvas, “Ellie says that makes her head hurt.” — The simple statement causes you to huff, a grin tugging across your lips. “I think I’ll have to follow her advice then”, you drawl, picking up a brush of your own as you twirl it between your fingers.

Teddy nods, tapping the end of his brush thoughtfully against his chin as he studies the painting. “Something missing, Picasso?” You wonder as you follow his line of sight. Your son bites the inside of his cheek before exhaling a heavy breath. “It needs blood!” — Your eyes widen at the exclamation. “Blood? Why on earth would it need something so violent as blood?”

You’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s turning your way, a frown etched deep on to his forehead. “It’s not violent”, he counters, “all sharks get blood on their teeth after they eat, that doesn’t make them violent.” — Dumbfounded by the way he argued for his sake, you blink. “I…Sure, but is it really necessary? Why ruin such a perfect painting?” You try to steer him away from the possibility of splashing red paint all over, but once Teddy had made up his mind there was no returning, Beomgyu was similar in that way.

“I’m not ruining it”, he whines, flicking the brush feathers against his palm in a frustrated manner. Realizing that there was no way for you to win this, you prepared to give in when he suddenly spoke again. — “Blood isn’t a bad thing… People always think it is, but that’s because they don’t know any better. You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand.” Teddy lets the brush drop back onto the canvas, “And my teacher says blood is important for the body, so it can’t be violent right?”

Half the time you brushed his words off, dismissing them as nothing but a child's imaginative mind. But as you listen to your son speak, with such understanding for the world around him, you feel as though you don’t know him at all. — “No, your teacher’s right, and so are you my love.” Leaning in to kiss the top of his head, your eyes drift over to the shark he’d painted, lingering by the uneven lines and the slightly mismatched colors as they bleed into one another.

“Forgive your mom for not thinking before she speaks”, you murmur against his soft hair, letting the scent of vanilla shampoo cloud your senses. Teddy hums, his tiny fingers splayed across the canvas as he taps the sharp teeth of the shark. “It’s okay, but you really should look at the shark and not the blood”, he says as he gingerly rises to his feet, “But not yet, because I haven't added the blood!”

Without waiting for a response he dashes back inside in search of the red paint. You don’t bother hiding the giggle that surfaces as you watch him go. Your son never failed to surprise you, and sometimes you wondered if he knew how bright he was. — Letting your gaze drop back to the painting, you turn the brush between your fingers, letting its feathers glide against the canvas, all the while you grin to yourself.

Teddy’s words linger in your mind, and you find yourself lost in thoughts as you go over their meaning. His intentions had been nothing but pure, yet you find yourself envisioning something completely different than sharks. — You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand. No matter how hard you tried to shake the words off you just couldn’t. They played on loop in your head, each time louder and louder, and all you saw was…

“Somethin’ funny?”

Beomgyu.

His rough voice pulls you from the depths of your thoughts, making your head jerk up as you come face to face with the biggest mistake of your life. Beomgyu looms over you, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his gray jeans as he peers down at you through the bright sun. — You had been so caught up in your previous conversation with Teddy that you hadn’t even heard the squeaky fence gate opening, nor had you realized that you’d been grinning like a psychopath this whole time.

What the fuck was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here, couldn’t. Teddy was bound to come back any moment now. You open your mouth to say something, awkwardly rising to your feet as you brush the grass from your legs. “What are you..” — “You didn’t join us today”, he says, swiftly cutting you off as he takes a step closer. Instinctively taking one back, you glance around your backyard, searching for the others, but Beomgyu shakes his head, “I came alone. I’m the only one who knows where you live, remember?” He says, a faint smirk ghosting over his lips.

You swallow, fingers nervously cramping up by your sides as you resist the urge to clench your hands into fists. “I…Well something came up”, you lie, feigning oblivion as you avert your gaze. Beomgyu hums, his eyes scanning the small house you resided in, as if getting his first proper look. “I see”, he hums, clearly not convinced but choosing not to pry further. “I just..” He begins, though quickly falling silent as he holds his tongue.

He bites the inside of his cheek, running an anxious hand through his blonde hair as his gaze avoids yours. “It’s just, we’re leaving in three days, and um”, he clears his throat, “It would be nice to see you before that.”

Your stomach might as well just have dropped seven floors, plummeting against rock hard concrete. Your heart felt heavy and your mind scattered. Had you led him on? Given him the wrong idea? It had been a mistake, but he knew that, because he’d been very open about that a week and a half ago.

“I didn’t think it was a mistake.”

Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know the shit he put you through. He didn’t know anything. You had to tell him now, you had to make it clear that what happened a week ago was never happening again and that he was an idiot for believing otherwise. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find it in you to treat him like that, not again. You couldn’t bear the look on his face when you’d told him to get out last time, and you wouldn’t now either.

“Listen, this isn’t…” Your words are cut short by the sound of a third voice, a much more high pitched and whiny one, one belonging to a child.

“Mommy! I can’t find the red paint I’ve looked everywhere!” Teddy’s sob breaks the tension out in the backyard as he comes running toward you. Tears stream down his round face, his eyes screwing shut as he clings to your leg. You swallow, your heart hammering in your chest as you disregard Beomgyu and turn toward your son. — “Shh, I’m sure it’s there somewhere, I’ll help you look in a minute okay, love?”

Your soft spoken words are met by an even louder sob as Teddy shakes his head. “I want the paint now!” He hiccups, sniveling against your thigh as he latches on to you. — “Hey, hey, I know”, you say, prying him from your leg as you crouch down opposite him. “And I’ll find it for you. So why don’t you wipe your tears, and say hello to my friend okay?”

Teddy slowly nods as he lets you pat his cheeks dry. Only now does he seem to register Beomgyu’s presence as he turns to him teary eyes. — Dreading the look on his face, you slowly stand back up as you turn toward him once more. But Beomgyu looks…just like himself, the same playful grin he usually wore, stuck to his face, almost practiced. If it wasn’t for the way his jaw clenched, and the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, you would’ve thought nothing to be wrong.

But if he was upset, he didn’t express it. Instead he leans down, extending his hand for Teddy to shake, to which your son eagerly responds with a small squeal. “Hi Mr, my name is Teddy”, he says, flashing a smile that showcases his missing teeth. Beomgyu returns to gestures, introducing himself just like he would anyone else.

“Are you one of mommy’s friends?” Teddy then asks, completely disregarding your warning glare as he grins. Beomgyu’s eyes flicker between you and your son, a questioning glimmer behind his warm irises. — “I am”, he says before pressing his lips in a thin line, give Teddy a tight smile. Teddy himself, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to ask something else when you hurry to interrupt him.

“Why don’t you wait for me inside so that we can look for the red paint together?” You say, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. Given a few moments of consideration, Teddy finally nods. “Okay”, he hums, turning to Beomgyu one final time, “ Goodbye Mr. Beomgyu!” — You watch his retreating frame, hoping to make whatever conversation was about to happen next short.

Once Teddy is completely out of sight, you turn back toward Beomgyu, a sense of dread washing over you. He looks… Unlike anything you’d ever witnessed. There isn’t a single fragment of emotion on his face, not one. You wait for him to say something, to break the surrounding you. Part of you wants him to yell, to shout. Another part wishes for him to not even mention it at all.

A whole minute passes and you slowly realize that he isn’t going to say anything. You swallow, thinking of ways to dodge the subject at hand, to send him off without ever having to discuss the topic that so obviously laid between the two of you. — “It’s not…I mean I can explain it but..”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

His cold and sharp tone slices through the warm air. Like a dark and rainy cloud on a sunny day. And if anything, it only adds to the growing tension around you. “What?” You felt as though you were melting under the hot sun, sweat dripping down your forehead as your throat dried up. — “I mean, I get that you had shit going on, but this?” His voice grows agitated, and Beomgyu pushes his hair back, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features.

“I…I’m sorry I don’t understand what you’re talking ab-”

“My son. I’m talking about my fucking son”, he snaps, his gaze turning from cold to fury, “My son that I didn’t even know I had up until five minutes ago.” — Your mouth falls open, all air getting knocked from your lungs as you blink slowly.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that look”, Beomgyu jeers, “He looks exactly like me, how long did you plan on dragging this out? Were you going to let me go back to Seoul without as much as a word about him? When were you planning on telling me? When he graduates fucking college?” He’s shouting now, just like he had so many times before. You cringe at the uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

“I was going to tell you!” You cut him off, your eyes silently pleading for empathy as your hands balled up into fists. “I just…I needed time”, you say, biting the inside of your cheek as Beomgyu scoffs. He lets out a short, breathy laugh, even though there was little to be laughed about right now. “Time?” — “You needed…time? Fucking hell you’re hilarious.”

He continues to laugh through the irony of it all, pacing back and forth on the freshly cut grass as he runs his hands through his hair. “I mean, this whole time, I’ve been thinking, wondering, how you were doing”, he mutters as he shakes his head to himself. — “I’ve been worried”, he adds, throwing you a short glance before he resumes his pacing. “But it seems you’ve gotten on just fine with our kid.”

“It’s not what happened, if you please just hear me out I can-” “How old is he?” Beomgyu cuts you off once again, stopping mid-step as he turns to you with a small frown. “I…He’s turning 5 in November..” You awkwardly admit, your nails digging into the heel of your hand as you swallow. Beomgyu snorts, and for a second you think he’s about to yell at you again. “Five fucking years”, he mutters, silently counting the dates in his head. It only clarified what he already knew. That Teddy was his son.

“Well isn’t this wonderful? And you were about to make me miss his fifth birthday as well I presume.” It’s not a question, but you reply anyway. “I was going to tell you..” Your words have little effect, you knew that too. But it wasn’t like there was much else you could say. — You could bring up the fact that he hurt you, you could bring up the nights you spent alone, the canceled dates and the ignorant ways he treated you. They all seemed minimal compared to this. You knew that you were in the wrong, and there was nothing you could do to save yourself. You can only watch as you slowly burn, turning into nothing but ash and dust at the hands of fire.

You should’ve told him five years ago.

“I’m sorry.” The whisper barely makes it past your quivering lips, and had it not been for the ever thick silence laying between you, Beomgyu wouldn’t have caught it. But he does, his expression twisting into an annoyed grimace. — “Yeah, because sorry solves everything”, he bites, his continuous pacing coming to a sudden stop as he turns to face you completely. “But that’s the problem with you.” He points an accusing finger your way:

“You never think about anyone but yourself, and you never have.”

That’s a lie. You tell yourself that he’s lying, pushing back the tears building in your eyes and instead forcing yourself to become angry. Your shaky exhale feels shallow as you glance down at the green grass. “I think you should go”, you refuse to look at him, “my son’s waiting for me.”

He doesn't say anything, in fact you can barely make out his uneven and ragged breathing, nor the steps as he retreats. The only confirmation of his departure was the squeaky fence gate, and this time you heard it as it echoed through your garden.

⸝⸝

When the first pregnancy test showed positive, you went and bought another one. And when it turned up with the same results you bought a third. Then a fourth and a fifth. You never bought a sixth, you called your grandma instead. The phone nearly slipped from your sweaty fingers as you with a trembling hand brought it to your ear, the other one clutching the sink tightly.

“Nana?”

You nearly sobbed at the sound of her voice. The soft rasp of her tongue, still groggy from her sleep, confused as to why you’d woken her at such a later hour. — “I’m scared”, your whisper is barely picked up by the poor connection, but you can hear your grandma shuffling about, a light being turned on somewhere in the distance.

“Dear, you are being blessed with the gift of life, it’s not something to fear.” Her soft spoken words make your heart clench, and you wipe the tears from your eyes. “It doesn’t feel like a blessing..” It felt like a curse. A cruel and mean vengeance casted upon you to make you pay for leaving him like that, a reminder of what you’d lost and a reminder of what had hurt you the most.

Your grandmother sighs on the other line. “My love, this is your chance to make things right, it’s your chance to start anew.” — “Do not blame this miracle for the sorrows of your past, but treasure it for the joys of your future.” Her tone is slightly hushed, laced with sleep but still as powerful as you’d always remembered it.

With a final sob, you straighten your back, inhaling a deep breath before slowly letting it go. “But nana, what if I’m not good at it?” A rush of anxiety washes over you, the realization that you were actually about to do this, alone, becoming crystal clear. — Your grandmother huffs, and you could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Then you will learn”, she simply states, a sense of finalization in her voice, as if she was closing the discussion for further questions.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you regard your expression in the mirror. From your bloodshot eyes to your puffy cheeks, dried up tear streaks laying flat across them, your swollen and bitten lips and the mess that was your hair. You looked just like you had any other night when Beomgyu had stood you up. The thought makes you scoff, how pathetic of you to cry over such a matter, when situations like these existed.

“Okay nana”, you exhale, nodding to yourself, “I will.”

That night you vowed to never cry over Choi Beomgyu again.

⸝⸝

It took you five years to break that vow. But as you put Teddy to bed that night, finally alone in the comforts of your own bedroom, you allow yourself to break down. Muffling your loud sobs against the pillow, your wet tears staining the soft cotton. It almost hurts, the way your fingers dig into the fabric, so hard that your knuckles have since long turned white. You don’t care, all you could think about was the way Beomgyu had looked at you, with so much anger that you thought you might just dissolve before his very eyes.

“You never think about anyone but yourself.”

Was that really how he felt? Was that really who you were? A selfish and uncaring person who hurt whoever she could just to preserve her own tears? And maybe you deserved it. You had waited for his anger, you had waited for five years. But when he kissed you that night, out on the pavement. When he kissed you rather than lashing out, when he chose to forget the past and try his luck with you once more, you only ended up hurting him further. — So maybe you did deserve it.

Far too engrossed in your own self loathing thoughts, you fail to catch the soft squeak of your bedroom door as it glides open. The soft padding of feet against the wooden floorboards as a much smaller and lighter person approaches. — Only when the mattress dips, and tiny arms wrap around your chest, do you peer up from your pillow.

Teddy isn’t looking at you, his face buried against your side as he hugs you tightly. Quickly drawing in a sharp breath and wiping your tears, you turn around to face him. “Hi baby..” Your voice is hoarse, “Did you have another nightmare?” You ask, brushing his hair back. — Teddy looks up, his big brown eyes wide as he shakes his head. “I forgot Sharptooth in here”, he says as he points to the discarded shark plushie on your bed.

A quiet “oh” is all you can muster, swallowing thickly as you reach for the stuffed animal. “Here you go sweetie”, you give him a small smile, “Want me to tuck you in again?” — Your son shakes his head once more, gripping the shark tightly between his tiny hands. “Why are you crying mom?” He wonders with a small frown, lips stuck out into a pout.

You shrug, trying to brush the topic off just as quickly as it had surfaced. “Mommy’s just had a long day”, you explain, your hand coming to rest on top of his shoulder. “Was it that man from before?” Teddy asks, and you want to curse yourself for raising such a smart child. — “No honey, he didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…thinking I suppose.”

Teddy lets his head fall to the side, studying you closely, as if trying to detect any lies. When he doesn’t find any, he straightens back up. You’re slightly taken aback when he places his shark plushie in your arms, your son was not on to share his priced shark possessions, so the gesture could only mean he was trying his best to make you feel better. “I told you you shouldn’t think so much mommy”, he comments, an almost accusing edge to his voice.

“Thinking makes you sad, and it makes your head hurt”, he states as a matter-of-factly. You nod, hugging the stuffed animal against your chest as you mindlessly play with its fins. “You’re right, from now on I’ll only think about the good things.” — “Like you”, your arm snakes around his shoulders, pulling him to your side as you place a kiss to the top of his head. Teddy squeals but doesn’t attempt to pull away from you, instead snuggling closer as he lets out a content sigh.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” He asks after a brief moment of silence, peering up at you through hooded eyes. The smile that spreads across your lips makes him grin, “You can.” Teddy immediately reaches for the covers as he tugs them over the two of you, making sure to tuck his mom in well before plopping down beside you. “Good”, he exhales, “I don’t think you should sleep alone today.”

Your heart flutters at the subtle comment and you wonder what you could’ve done to deserve such a kind son. — Perhaps your nana had been right all those years ago. Teddy was indeed the joys of both your present and future.

⸝⸝

Three days pass. Three days without as much as a single word from him. And today, they would be leaving.

After dropping Teddy off at your grandma’s, you find yourself back at the restaurant you’d all gathered at nearly two weeks ago. In the bright light of the sun, it looked far different than it had that evening. Now you could clearly see the cracks in the wall, running down the sides of the building, slowly tearing it apart. The chipped paint on the windows, the dirty glass and the worn out tables on the patio.

You stop in front of it, your feet leading you to that very same spot on the pavement. The grime and the dirt is clear now, white spots of splattered gum stuck to the asphalt and the small strands of grass that slowly crept their way through the cracks where the road met the sidewalk. — You sigh, anxiously chipping away at the polish on your nails as you hopelessly glance around.

To a stranger, it might’ve looked as though you were waiting for someone. But that someone would never come, and you knew that. It was just past noon, and they were to leave by late afternoon. — Beomgyu was nowhere to be found. You couldn’t quite place the feeling bubbling in your stomach. But the mere thought of him made it painfully twist.

Yet you find yourself desperate. Desperate to reach out, to see him once more, even if you know it was going to hurt the both of you. You were selfish, impossibly so. And without a second thought, you fish your phone up from your pocket, swiftly unlocking it as you search for Yeonjun in your contacts. He’d given you his number that day in the grocery store, insisting that the two of you stayed in touch. You were thankful he did.

The wait seems eternal as you listen to the beeping tone, buzzing against your ear. Perhaps he was busy packing, or perhaps he was mad at you, maybe Beomgyu had told him everything. And perhaps this time, he hadn’t held back. — Just as you were about to give up and return home, the call goes through and Yeonjun’s voice echoes from the other line. “Hey, there you are, I've been trying to get a hold of you for days!” He exclaims, sounding worried.

Surprised, you blink, not realizing how distant you’d been these past three days. Your mind had been so clouded with the thought of Beomgyu that you hadn't allowed room for anyone else but Teddy. — “I…I’m sorry I haven’t…” You bite your tongue, unsure of how much you were willing to tell. You shake your head, swallowing a deep breath before starting over. “Can I… Can I ask you something?”

Yeonjun doesn’t hesitate, “Anything.” You smile, even though he can’t see it. Your eyes trace the cobbled road, following the lines between the stones as you spoke. “Have you… Talked to Beomgyu?” Nearly terrified of uttering his name in this situation, your question comes out a mere whisper.

It’s silent on the other line, and you can only listen to the soft breaths as you await his response. Finally, he answers, a short “No.”

The confirmation makes you feel… Indifferent? You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or to cry, and the confusion between those emotions left you feeling…nothing. “Oh… I see.” It’s hard to sound unbothered, and Yeonjun can tell by the way your voice trembles, you’re certain of that. — “He’s been out all day, I’m not sure where he is, did you want to see him before we left?” He wonders, and you can’t seem to pick up any kind of anger in his voice. Perhaps Beomgyu hadn’t told him after all.

Did you want to see him? Yes. More than anything.

“No, it’s fine… I just..” You hesitate, “It’s nothing.” If Beomgyu hadn’t told him anything, then you wouldn’t either. It would just complicate things, right? It would make things even worse. And the thought of losing not only Beomgyu, but the others as well, was unthinkable. — Yeonjun, on the other hand, doesn’t sound entirely convinced as he hums, taking his time before speaking once more. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks, not trying to mask the concern he radiates.

“I am.” You lied, because lying was the only semblance of power you still held.

⸝⸝

You preferred white wine over red. But as you sat on your porch that evening, the half empty bottle clutched tightly in one hand, red tinting your lips, it suddenly didn’t seem to matter anymore. — Thankful that you planned for Teddy to stay the night at your grandmas, you can take solace in the liquor as you watch the sun set over the horizon. You don’t even realize how late it’s gotten until the patio’s automatic light is flicked on, the warm yellow basking you in new light.

Perched on the very edge of your porch, your legs swing back and forth with little direction, your movements slow and slightly clumsy. You purse your lips, a small grimace flashing across your face as you peer down at the bottle in your hand, watching as the dark liquid swishes inside the glass under your guidance.

It was self pity that had brought you out here. It was self pity that had made you down half the cheap bottle of a wine you didn't even like. And it was tears of self pity that had dried down on your cheeks. But you had stopped crying now, and you’d stopped drinking too, now you merely existed, just another breathing living organism. Under the stars, you felt small, insignificant, like your problems were nothing against the big world outside and beyond. Perhaps they were.

You wonder how long it would take for you to get over him this time. — Would it be over in a day? Or would it hurt for years? Finally you understand how he felt when you just walked out on him that night all those years ago. When you yelled for him to leave, when you locked him out of your life and left. And fuck it hurt.

No, you needed another sip. Just one more, you tell yourself. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you suddenly halt. The squeaking sound of your fence gate makes you freeze. Had it been the wind? Hardly. That gate was both old, rusty and not to mention heavy. A sudden lump in your throat forms, and you’re unable to down a single drop of wine, so you set the bottle down. You don’t even dare look, afraid of what you might see, of who you might see.

But in the end, you do. The sounds of approaching footsteps fill the silent nightair, and you watch as a tall shadow makes its way up the stoned path to your house, with heavy and slow steps. Finally emerging from the shadows and into the faint glow of the patio lights, you see his face clearly.

Beomgyu looks like he hasn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes are prominent and his usually styled blonde hair is everywhere. He doesn’t say anything, hands stuffed into his pockets. His gaze is back to the same cold and indifferent one he’d held at the restaurant when you first met. His tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek before he says, “You shouldn’t be drinking.”

Following his gaze toward the wine bottle, you scoff. But Beomgyu is persistent. “You can’t hold your liquor, and I don’t want you around my kid drunk.” He puts emphasis on the words, dragging them out, shoving them in your face. Your brows pull together in an angered frown. “You’re here to poke and prod at me over that?” You say, your tone accusing as you get up on wobbly legs, your bare feet now touching the cold glass.

Beomgyu sneers, grabbing ahold of your shoulders as you take a clumsy step forward. “Of course I’m here to nag you about my fucking son, my son that you kept from me.” He spits the sentence out and it becomes clear that he had only come to pick a fight. — His grip on you tightens, fingers digging into your shoulder blades. “And I come here to see you drinking your problems away, running from them like you always fucking have!”

“Shut up..” Your attempt at telling him off comes out slurred, almost inaudible. And Beomgyu continues. “You’re a fucking coward”, he seethes. “Shut up”, your voice grows higher. “And do you know who has to pay for it?” He huffs out a short laugh, “Me. Me and everyone else around you.” — “Shut up”, you’re almost pleading with him now. Beomgyu hears none of it.

“I thought about it”, he says, the already harsh grip around your shoulders only increasing and you wince. “I’ve thought about it for three whole days..” He swallows, his dark eyes searching yours. “And I’ve realized that you’re nothing but a liar who uses people as she pleases-”

“Shut the fuck up!”

It takes all of your strength to push him back, to pry his hands from your body as you free yourself of his vice-like grip. You tumble backwards, the back of your knees hitting the porch as you almost fall over, luckily catching yourself just in time. — Beomgyu on the other hand, is watching you with an expression best described as disbelieving and outraged. His hands balling up into fists by his sides, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might hurt.

You don’t let him get another word out, your loud voice slicing through the air. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t lay awake each night, guilt eating away at every single fucking part of me!” The exhale you emit is shaky, your heart palpitating as you gather yourself before continuing. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? Do you have any idea of what it’s like to have a baby all on your own, with no one to help?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hold his cold gaze. “Have you ever had to book an ultrasound and go all on your own? Have you ever had to stay up until three in the morning, coddling a baby you never asked for, telling him that everything was going to be okay when I didn't know what okay even felt like!” — Quickly blinking away the fresh tears that threaten to spill down your already stained cheeks, you avert your gaze. “You don’t know anything. You weren’t there.”

Beomgyu remains silent when you finish. The only thing still confirming his presents was his jagged breathing. You don’t look at him, you don’t think you could, even if you wanted to.

“I don’t regret what I did.” Your voice is softer now, almost whispering. But you know he’s listening. “I was young, and I was scared.” You shake your head, “I’m not saying I did the right thing but I do not regret it and you cannot make me change my mind.

Your last statement makes him scoff, his jaw twitching as his eyebrows furrow. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” — “Fine, you wanted to run off, but why didn’t you tell me. Five fucking years why didn’t you tell me?” His voice grows in intensity with each word. You hold your tongue, looking him in the eyes though unable to form a response. “What?” He huffs, his gaze narrowing down on you. When you remain silent he takes a step forward.

“What?” He’s nearly shouting now. You know he doesn’t mean it, he never does, right? But it still hurts. You open your mouth to defend yourself, ready to tell him just how bad he hurt you. No words come out. — Beomgyu grows visibly frustrated, his hands balling up into fists by his sides. “Don’t fucking look at me like that!”

“Like what, Beomgyu?”

“I took your son away from you because you took my life away from me, and I was scared you were going to take his as well!” You’re crying now, unable to stop the tears from flowing down your eyes as you scream at him, hopelessly trying to overpower his sharp words.

Out of all the things you’d said to him, this was the one that finally seemed to go through as Beomgyu falters backward, his face dropping as his frown deepens. — “What?” This time the word comes out a quiet, uncertain whisper. He looks almost confused.

“You’re not the only one who got hurt.” Not thinking about how you worded yourself or what you were even saying, you continue, afraid that if you didn’t grasp this opportunity, it would never reappear again. — “You hurt people. And you don’t even realize it. You hurt me.” He opens his mouth as if to speak, you already know what he’s about to say, and you beat him to it.

“You can’t seriously believe I left you only because of that scandal? Seeing you with another woman on the news hurt sure, but it didn’t hurt as much as the missed calls, the unreplied text messages, the dates you canceled, the anniversaries you forgot and the days you could go without speaking to me.”

You inhale.

“You made me feel like a shadow in my own relationship. And I was terrified that you’d do the same to Teddy.”

You exhale.

Beomgyu looks as if he’s fighting an inner battle, his gaze flickering between yours and somewhere far off in the distance. “That’s the problem with you”, you say, letting your arms drop to your sides, “I run from my flaws, but you, you don’t even see them.” — “And nothing is ever your fault, is it Beomgyu?”

The silence that falls over the two of you after that weighed heavier than any you’d ever experienced before. The sky could come crashing down at any moment and it still wouldn’t be able to overpower the ringing sounds of nothing. Under the yellow gleam of the patio lights Beomgyu looks lifeless, his skin had turned a sickly pale and the dark bags under his eyes even more prominent.

He’s the first to break the quiet.

“I just..” He begins but quickly tails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his gaze drifts toward the grass. “I don’t want you to disappear again.” He looks up at you, his dark eyes suddenly gaining a new emotion, one you hadn’t seen on him ever, a pleading one. — When you don’t reply he lets out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “The thought of you disappearing again scares me”, he admits.

You feel your jaw slacking as your mouth falls open. “It…It does?” You ask, not believing his words. But Beomgyu nods as he takes a step forward, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. “Of course it fucking does”, he exhales, his fingers clenching into fists before unclenching again, as if holding himself back from reaching out. — “Why do you think I kissed you that night? Why the fuck do you think I got out of that cab and followed you to bed?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly, adam’s apple bobbing as he does. You catch the glossy layer of tears in his eyes just as he blinks them away. “It scares me so bad that I…” He hesitates, but only for a moment. “It scares me so bad that I would rather end up hurt in your arms than never seeing you again.”

“I thought I told you, that night, didn’t I?” He says, biting the inside of his cheek as he searches your face. “Haven’t thought about anyone else.” — “Only you.” You thought it was a drunken confession, something he said in the heat of the moment, you never expected him to… To fully mean it.

Try as you might but no words come out, no matter how hard you will yourself to say something, anything. Beomgyu doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he reaches for the discarded wine bottle, bringing it to his lips as he takes a large swig. You watch as he swallows, not hesitating for even a second as he downs another gulp, then another. Only when you pry the bottle from his hands does his attention revert back to you.

“Did you mean it?” You ask, clutching the bottle tightly in one hand as your eyes narrow on his. Beomgyu nods, licking the remaining liquor from his lips. “Every single word of it”, he says. — “Okay”, you sigh. Following his lead as you, too, bring the wine to your lips, letting the red liquid flow down your throat for a brief moment.

When lowering the bottle once more, you don’t wait before acting, not daring to think your next move through even once, terrified that you would back out if you did. Instead you take a final step forward, closing the small distance between you completely before flinging your arms around his neck, pulling his lips down on yours.

Beomgyu responds by immediately wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands settling on your hips as he pulls you flush against his chest. The bittersweet aftertaste of wine lingers on his tongue and you’re certain it does on your own. — No words are exchanged, they’re not needed, not when his body is so close to yours.

He sighs into the kiss, his breath warm in contrast to the cool night air. It doesn’t feel like that night, two weeks ago. There was no lust now, no desire, and no rush. Only the soft sounds of your hearts beating against one another, in tune and perfectly harmonized. It’s the kind of kiss that could go on forever without you even realizing it. The kind of kiss that would make your head spin and your lungs ache as you neglected the need for air.

You thought you knew everything there was to know about him. But right now, he feels like a completely different person, a person you could really love. Maybe he’d always been like that. Maybe you’d just refused to acknowledge the good, far too focused on the bad.

You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand

It was then it hit you. You didn’t understand Beomgyu at all, and neither did he understand you. The lack of communication is what has led you to where you are right now. All because you were so fixated on the idea of love that you completely forgot what it is actually all about. Understanding.

Your hand caresses his cheek when you pull back, the gesture is soft, a silent apology. Beomgyu turns his head, placing a gentle kiss on your palm, a silent apology. — “Help me understand”, you whisper as you glance up at him, relieved to find his eyes back to their warm brown. He looks confused, but lets you place your free hand on top of his chest, just above the steady beating of his heart. “In here”, you say, “Let me understand what goes on in here.”

He smiles, a genuine smile before leaning in to kiss you once more. One of his hands rests on top of yours, and you feel the slight flutter of his chest under the tips of your fingers when you return his kiss. — When he pulls back, he does the same, the hand not clutching yours, reaching up to rest above your heart. Beomgyu remains quiet for another moment, silently listening to the soft pattern of your heartbeat. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they find yours without hesitation.

“Only if you let me understand yours.” You nod, a timid smile splayed across your lips. — You stay like that for a while, listening to the sounds of each other's heart beats. Knowing that they both beat for the very same reason. The knowing somehow made it even more special.

It connected you.

READ THE EPILOGUE HERE

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