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honeyhotteoks · 4 months ago

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under his eye (lnds; sylus)

summary: sylus puts you under his thrall and takes exactly what he wants from you and your body.

note: this is my first love and deepspace fic, and definitely one of my more intense fics thematically for my regular readers who may dip into this one too. i have a few lnds ideas knocking around, so i may post more at some point. ♡

warnings: actual vampire!sylus, fem!reader, mc!reader, this is entirely smut but please mind the warnings here: heavy dubcon (there is enthusiastic consent explicit in the fic just not at first), cnc, use of thrall/mind-control, dollification, fingering, oral (f receiving), actual somno, rough sex, allusions to primal play, blood play, actual vampire behavior, orgasm denial/orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected sex (he's a vampire tho get real), creampie, praise and shame in equal measure, a LOT of dirty talk from sylus, heavy use of pet names like good girl, sweet girl, kitten, sweetheart, darling, etc., some implied size kink with the use of 'little' but it's meant more mean teasing from him than anything, tenderness, consent talks, check-ins, aftercare, sylus literally loves her in this dw

pairings: vampire!sylus x hunter!reader

genre: smut, porn with very little plot

word count: 5.6k

for my fellow sylus fans, you can probably tell this was fully inspired by his secret times audio 'midnight warmth' - i basically hit level 35 and then went fully insane when i first heard it..... so a few lines of dialogue are borrowed from that.

It’s hard to imagine what it feels like to be in a vampire’s thrall unless you’ve experienced it before. You don’t think you’d ever be able to find the words, not properly. You’ve heard it described, in training, in books, in your own personal research, but it all pales in comparison to what it’s actually like. The slow, hypnotic build up into the haze and the sudden descent into a deeper, darker place where your mind resonates at a lower frequency, fixed on one singular sound. One voice.

Sylus.

His rich, honeyed tone had pushed you under before you could even process it.

You try to remember where you were before this moment, who you were, but there are only flickers. The hotel room around you is large and unfamiliar, outfitted decadently in the dark jewel tones he favors so much. The black silk sheets under your back is the only sensation you have other than the slow pulse of your own heartbeat in your ears. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember a joke, something you quipped over your shoulder about how there must be laws in place in the N109 zone, how ‘vampire’s lair’ must be the only legal style of decor in this sector of space.

He had laughed, a real, genuine laugh from deep in his chest before he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your hair.

You don’t like being in a vampire’s lair, kitten?

You can still hear his words, swimming around your foggy brain, his voice so low and warm in his chest.

I thought you liked being my pretty paramour.

Sylus’s hands had wandered, playing with the buckles of your hunter’s leathers and letting his fingertips ghost over your collarbones, up your throat, and pass gently over your lips before stepping back and away from you entirely. You felt strange from that moment on, disquieted.

You made excuses in your own mind for how you were feeling, weeks of investigations and sleepless nights, that’s why your body felt like it was dragging itself through butter just trying to eat dinner.

You apologized, you wouldn’t have called him if you had realized just how tired you were.

But he just smiled at you, appraising you with his sharp red eyes in that way he often does, nodding along to your staggered attempts at conversation.

You realized what he was doing in the last split second before your mind became his.

His gaze turned darker, searing into you, and with one word you felt the world drop out from underneath you.

Sleep.

You don’t remember how you ended up on the bed.

Now your head is swimming as you try harder and harder to focus your mind and recall the little details.

“Stop resisting, darling,” Sylus murmurs, and you feel the mattress dip.

You can’t respond, you can’t even really move, and a nervous panic starts to work its way up your spine.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to you now that you can see him in your vacant line of vision, and he nods, “Just relax,”

Your muscles soften.

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Sylus leans closer, his fingers tugging at the buckles and straps of your clothes.

You watch as he meticulously undresses you, peeling away layers of your uniform, a satisfied groan whispered from his lips as he parts open your blouse, another when he does away with your tight leather pants. All the while, you’re boneless, trapped by his last command and fully at his mercy. The Hunter’s Academy never prepared you for this.

“You really are a pretty thing,” Sylus hums, his cool hand drifting up and down your body from the base of your bra to the top of your underwear, “so soft,”

Nerves pulse through you again, your body twitching under his hands.

“Shh,” He soothes, “it’s only me, relax,”

Your muscles melt further, any lingering tension bleeding out of your body at his words, your head rocking softly to one side, your cheek against the silk pillowcase.

“That’s a good girl,”

You sigh, a sudden needy tug deep in your belly at his words.

“Mm,” His hand drifts higher, dancing over your chest and passing over your breasts, the rough drag of your cloth bra against your nipple pulling a tiny whine from your lips.

He chuckles softly, repeating his motions and you whine again.

“How lovely and responsive you are,” Sylus says, pulling the fabric of your bra down until it catches under the swell of your breasts, “what other little noises can I pull out of you, kitten?”

He rolls a thumb over your nipple, drawing it up to a tight, almost painful peak, and you whimper at the flood of sensation through your chest and down your abdomen.

“And this?” He pinches, a tug that leaves you involuntarily jerking.

“And here?” You can’t see him with the way your head is turned, but you feel his fingers ghost over the hem of your panties and you suck in a sharp breath.

He adjusts one of your legs, opening it up at the knee to widen his access, and then he presses two fingers a little more firmly at the top of your cunt, expertly locating your clit through your panties and applying steady pressure.

You moan softly and you hear him release a tight exhale.

“My,” He lets his fingers slip down, pushing lightly against your slit, “are you wet already?”

You know you are, your body responding naturally to his voice, to his tender touch.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” Sylus leans over you, his breath against your cheek, “when I ask you a question, I’d like a response.”

Your heart is fluttering, a thunderously fast pounding in your chest.

His fingers hook under your chin and draw your gaze up, and gently he pushes the hair away from your face as he regards you, his dark eyes full of mirth and a little half smile on his lips. He nods at you, pleased as if you had turned your own head, “Now,” he says, “I asked if you’re wet already?”

Your knotted up tongue loosens instantly at the question, “Yes,”

“Good girl,” He coos, leaning over you to press his cool lips to yours.

You can’t kiss him back, he hasn't told you if you’re allowed to move, but he peppers you with kisses until you feel his fingers slide under the hem of your panties.

You gasp under him, heat pooling in your belly.

Sylus dips his fingers into the dripping slickness of your cunt and groans into your ear, “You like this,” he nips at your earlobe, “you’re a mess between your thighs for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” The word slips out, your voice breathy and taut.

“My pretty little hunter,” He slides his fingers up to your swelling clit and circles his fingers, “does that feel good?”

You moan a little, his fingers pressing more firmly as he circles, “Yes, Sylus,”

“Spread out for me,” He presses his head against your temple and turns so he can watch your body twitching as he works his fingers over you, “Wet for me,”

A hot rush spreads up through your body.

You shouldn’t like this. You shouldn’t want this. But you asked for this, a confession of your fantasies whispered between the sheets at his apartment, and he peeled them apart one by one, teasing you with questions and collecting his information, strumming you to orgasm after orgasm all the while.

You just didn’t know it would be today, weeks and weeks went by without so much as an innuendo. The sudden onset of his thrall and his control over your body shouldn’t be this alluring, but it is. You can’t move, you can’t speak unless he allows you, but every touch of his skin on yours has you ready to throw every instinct out the window because you’re pretty sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been.

His fingers speed up and your hips buck just a little into the sensation.

“Dirty girl,” He hums, “you like the way this feels, you like that you can’t move,”

He twists your dark desires back around on you, a flutter of shame in your chest at the truth of it.

He explores your cunt with his fingers, toying with you and gathering more wetness to torture your clit with, “You like being helpless, completely in my hands,” he goads you as he works your body up to release, “unable to stop me, or tell me no,”

Your core throbs, every inch of your body a live wire, shame twisting into a tight knot of need in your belly.

“Don’t you?”

You gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, “Yes, yes!”

”Are you close, kitten?” He purrs in your ear, thrusting his fingers hard and fast, his knuckles rhythmically connecting with your clit.

“Yes,” You whine, your body trembling.

“That’s too bad,” He pulls his hand free and lets your underwear snap back into place.

If you could move you’d be a whining mess, throwing yourself at him and begging for him to finish the job, but you can’t. He’s stolen your orgasm right out from under you and you can’t even ask him to finish the job.

“Hmm,” He stands, and you hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor, “does it hurt?”

“Yes,” You manage.

“Poor baby,” He teases, mocking your little sob, and his thumbs hook under the sides of your panties to yank them roughly off your body, “should I kiss it and make it better?”

“Please,”

He drops back down to the bed, this time sliding in between your thighs, and when he speaks again you feel his cool breath whisper across your throbbing center, “Ask nicely,”

Your voice is shaky when you finally find the words, “Please, Sylus will you touch me?”

“Touch you where?”

You whimper, the slightest involuntary jerk of your hips pulling a chuckle from his lips.

“I said,” He reminds you, “touch you where?”

“M-my clit,” You beg, “my pussy, please,”

“Was that so hard?” You can practically see him smiling.

You open your mouth, ready to respond, but his mouth closes over your clit and all thought and reason you had left disappear. He’s going to ruin you for any other man, you know it.

Sylus hums, pushing your limp legs painfully wide and laps at your center. There’s no teasing left in him, no gentle licks and featherlight brushes of fingertips, there’s just him, needing to feel you come just as badly as you do.

The knot in your gut is back with a vengeance, and every impulse in your body is to squirm away from his mouth and let him drag you back down, but you can’t. Sylus takes and takes and you have no choice but to let him.

When he lifts his mouth to take a quick breath he gives you another command, “Watch me,”

The tether between you draws your gaze down, and you gasp at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, his broad hands holding open your trembling thighs, and he eats at you like you’re a meal. Your breath comes quicker, blush lighting up your chest.

“You taste so sweet here,” He groans, barely lifting his mouth, his tongue carving a line up from your entrance to your sensitive bud and you choke out a breathy moan.

He knows you’re about to come before you do, and you see him smile into your wet heat before he shifts focus, lips closing over your clit and sucking hard, his hand sliding to push two fingers back inside and crook them just right. Within a few sharp pumps of his wrist and a steady flick of his tongue you’re moaning sharply, your release snapping in your belly so hard you see stars.

You can’t move on your own, but your body crackles apart in rhapsodic shakes and he carries you through the crest of your orgasm with lazy licks.

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, and you feel the sharp pin prick of pain at your inner thigh. He licks you there too, taking just a little taste from the vein, and then sighs pleasantly and squeezes your thigh.

He kisses you here once, and then pulls himself up, arranging your legs back down before sliding next to you in the sheets and tugging you close to his chest.

You rock into him, your body spent and boneless, unable to move to wrap your arms around him or press kisses to his chest. Instead you just are, and he pulls your body up until you’re in the perfect spot in his arms. He tucks his cheek against yours and palms your backside.

“When you wake,” Sylus whispers low, “it will be on my cock.”

You shiver, your core pulsing again.

“And you’ll stay nice and soft and wet for me,” He kisses the hollow of your ear, “my sweet doll,”

Your eyes start to grow heavy, your head lolling into his shoulder.

“You’ll let me have my wicked way with your sweet cunt,” His hands flex tightly on your skin, like he’s restraining himself from taking you now, “and when you’re close, right on the edge of coming, you’ll tell me, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Your words sound lazy, malformed in your cotton mouth but you answer him nonetheless.

“Good,” He murmurs, “and when you come, your hot pussy squeezing my cock, my thrall will end.”

A hazy question forms in your mind, but you’re so foggy now.

“But until then,” he sighs, his hands relaxing and his voice softening, “you’ll rest,”

Your eyes drift shut, a relaxed sigh on your lips, your body indistinguishable in your mind from the sheets wrapped around you.

Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your hair and strokes your back, “Sleep, little crow,” he says softly, “you’re safe with me,”

Just like before, the world falls away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, not when Sylus wakes you the way he does. You come into consciousness incredibly slowly, as if you were out of your body and watching the scene in slow motion. The first thing you register through the muffled world of dreamless sleep is his voice. It doesn’t matter how deeply under you are, still encased in darkness, you hear his voice reach out to you and tug on the invisible tether tying your consciousness to his.

Needy girl.

Hands on your thighs, cool air on your cunt.

Rutting yourself on my thigh.

Were you?

Don’t you know I’m the only one allowed to make you come?

A soft moan. Yours, you think distantly.

Sylus chuckles and hums, no doubt appraising you once again with his hungry eyes. You still feel under the deep water of sleep, your body disconnected and pliant in his hands, his influence so impacting that you remain his plaything even now.

Fingers dance across your skin, skating lines of ice over your flesh. Sylus studies your body with his touch, a brush against your collarbones, the curve of your shoulders, down your arms into the ditch of your elbows. A brush of lips against your palm, a reverent kiss to your chest, his mouth nuzzling against your belly as he searches more of you with his precious touch.

Your skin turns sensitive, prickling goose flesh, and he sighs pleasantly into your skin, “So beautiful,”

His voice feels clearer now, and somewhere in your brain through the membrane of your closed eyelids you register the cool blue of early morning light.

“My darling,” He hums, another kiss, the shifting of the sheets as he moves, “my sweet girl,”

You feel the weight of him above you, his legs between yours and his torso radiating a chill as he holds himself above you. Sylus slips one hand into your hair, cradling your head for a moment before he tightens his hold and uses his grip on your scalp to draw your head back, neck stretched long and exposed.

He drops lower, body ghosting yours, and he buries his face in your throat, pushing his nose into your pulse point. A panicked thrill lances through you, your heartbeat fluttering faster.

“Shh, shh,” He whispers against your throat, “don’t be frightened,”

A sharp exhale leaves your lips.

Sylus kisses your throat, letting his lips linger, “You wanted to play with a vampire, sweetheart, this is what you get,”

Even in this false sleep, you feel your core flutter, heat pooling again.

His tongue darts out, tracing a line from your thumping pulse up your vein to your ear and he groans pleasantly, a flutter of breath across your skin, “Next time,” he shudders, “maybe I’ll make you play my favorite game,”

Your breath quickens.

“Vampire,” He nips at your throat, his fangs still sheathed, “and vampire hunter,”

The ache between your thighs melts into a throb, a pulse in time with your heart.

Sylus moves lower, lavishing open mouthed, messy kisses on your skin as he talks. His voice still a whisper, his fantasies muttered out from himself more than for you as he loses himself in your touch.

”You’ll come to me,” He teases, “ready to kill the big, bad, vampire,” he punctuates every word with a sharp lick to your breasts.

A whimper passes through your slack lips.

“Only I’ve played this game before,” His hand slides out of your hair and he settles his body weight over you, “and I never lose,”

You shiver, his words, his cold touch, it hardly matters.

“And you’ll run from me,” His hands drag over your skin, cupping your breasts, “and I’ll chase the frightened kitten into the woods,”

Your breath hitches.

He smiles against your skin, lips closing over a stiff nipple and flicking until you shudder beneath him. He hums, kissing across your chest, “Red and ripe as strawberries,” he observes, latching onto your other nipple and sucking, “I can feel how much you’re aching for me even in your sleep,”

You’re dripping, you can feel it, making a mess of the silk sheets underneath you.

He shifts, maneuvering your body to tilt your hips up and open, legs spread wide, and then you feel him. Sylus slides his impossibly hard length over your slit, rocking himself back and forth against your wetness, his velvet head nudging at your swollen bud.

Your body is trembling, fluttering under his hands.

“When I catch you,” He returns to his garish fantasy, “I’ll strip you bare,”

You feel your stomach clench at the thought.

“I’ll pin you right down to the ground,” He says it like a promise, rolling his hips harder, “and fuck your hot little cunt until you’re so cockdrunk you beg for more,”

A pained whine bubbles from your mouth, hips arching involuntarily at his words.

“Mm,” His hand drags down your chest, skimming over your body, “have I denied you too long, love?”

You want to beg, to plead, to shift your hips into the exact right position so that his next thrust pushes his cock inside.

“You’ve been so good,” He adjusts, finally nudging at your wet entrance, his hands finding yours in the sheets and drawing them above your head, fingers twined together, “just a little more,”

He inhales sharply and then with a forceful thrust he sheaths himself inside you, his hips connecting hard with yours.

You moan sharply, your pussy clenching around the thick intrusion of him.

He chokes a groan, “O-open your eyes, sweetheart,”

Your eyes snap open, and the sight of him naked above you, inside you, is enough to send your mind spiraling out of control.

“Your body was made for me,” He snaps his hips, setting a brutal pace as he ruts into you, “divined by gods for my cock,”

Pleasure rolls up through your belly and your body tightens.

“You’re mine,” His hands tightens on yours, his eyes boring into you.

Tears gather in your eyes, a hot sensation through every inch of your body at the way his thick length spears you open with every draw of his hips. The knot inside you pulls again, a taut cord threatening at any moment to snap.

“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his voice faltering into a moan.

Your mouth opens, straining against the sure drop of your orgasm but you nod, “I’m yours, S-Sylus, I’m all yours,”

“Good girl,” He pants, “there she is,”

The praise on his lips sends you higher, and you suck in a sharp breath, “I’m… Sylus, I’m close!”

He descends, moving in a flash of nearly inhuman speed, and suddenly your head is pulled to the side again and you’re cradled tight as he rolls his hips into you.

“Come,” He directs, one more command on his lips before you fall to pieces beneath him, and his sharp fangs descend into your throat.

“Sylus!” You jerk, true consciousness and feeling rushing back as the thread between his mind and yours severs, but you don’t have a moment to parse how it feels to be out of thrall when your orgasm rushes into you full force and the hot pain of his teeth melts into delicious pleasure.

He groans, shuddering above you and stopping his thrusts as he feels your walls spasm and flutter around him, the taste of your blood on his tongue grinding the world to a halt at his feet. Nothing exists but you and him and your blood on his teeth and his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand threading into his hair, “Sylus,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silver locks, “all yours,”

Euphoria doesn’t begin to describe it, your orgasm feels never ending. Every suck at your tender throat spurns another wave through you, and you rock yourself against him, grinding up against his pelvic bone to draw out every ounce of your pleasure.

When he pulls away, he does so with care, gentle with the skin of your neck to ensure he doesn’t hurt you anymore that he has to. Pushing up on the mattress he finds your face and you roll right into another aftershock. His eyes are brighter, wide in desperate awe of you and somehow an even darker shade of red, and that with the smear of your blood across his lips has you keening, arching and gripping against him as you babble out his name between moans.

“That’s it,” He softens, gathering you close to press his forehead to yours, ��come for me again, that’s my girl,”

“Sylus,” You’re a whimpering mess, your body a pool of ecstatic pleasure, and all you can do is repeat his name and hold onto him through the wave of endorphins and emotions.

“Shh, shh,” He hushes you softly as you ride through the last flush of pleasure, “I’ve got you,”

Your skin is slick with sweat, and your legs are shaking, breath coming in shallow pants as you finally come back down.

Sylus holds you, bracing you to his chest and he makes short work of rolling you both without disconnecting your bodies. When he settles he’s on his back with you perched on his hips, his fingers carving a line up and down your spine to settle you.

Flush and trembling, you find his eyes again.

His brows draw together, a knit line of tender concern, and he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Don’t bite your lip,”

Your mouth relaxes, you hadn’t even known you were doing it, and your eyes flick away. He says something, words you can hardly hear through the dizzy rush of your brain trying to catch up with the past few hours.

“Sweetheart,” he smooths his thumb over your cheek, “look me in the eyes, answer me,”

Your head snaps back up.

“Was I too rough?” He asks softly.

You don’t have words yet, you can’t reach them and string them together, but you shake your head.

”Are you sure?” His hands draw up and down your body slowly like he’s checking you for something, his broad hands finally coming to rest over yours where you brace yourself on his chest.

You nod to his answer his question, “I’m sure,”

He relaxes under you, pressing your hands into his chest over his heart, and it would turn you to romantic putty if he wasn’t still seated fully inside you and if your blood wasn’t staining his mouth. Your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth, crimson across his plush bottom lip, smears on his chin, a drip that made it to the edge and slipped down his neck.

”Hmm,” His lips turn up into a smile and you sheepishly look back up, “are you still hungry, love?”

Your stomach clenches, his voice turning husky again the moment he spies your renewed arousal.

This time though, you’re awake. The heavy fog of his control and your barrage of orgasms has started to lift, and you need something more.

You let your body melt, relaxing against him and letting his cock shift inside you, “Are you?”

He almost laughs at your expression, one brow raised to challenge him as you push up to straddle him. His eyes rake over you and you feel his cock twitch, “You’d think I would have had my fill of you,” he says, hands moving to your hips, “but I find you make me insatiable, the more I taste you, the more I fuck you, the more I want,”

“A vampire who’s never satisfied?” You tease him, “how original,”

He exhales softly through his nose, smiling, “You’re the one still grinding on my cock, kitten,”

You blush, but make no effort to stop unconsciously rocking your hips against him.

“I was wrong, you’re the insatiable one,” He says appreciatively, and he smoothly slides his hands up your back to brace you so that when he sits up you stay with him.

“If I was I’d never admit it,”

He smacks your ass lightly with his palm and you wrap your legs around him, the position change sinking you back down onto his length and you sigh.

”After what you just let me do to you?” Sylus shakes his head, his voice dropping the teasing tone when he presses his lips to your chest, “That’s admission enough,”

He takes both hands to grip your backside, pressing into your soft flesh, and drags you forwards to coax you into motion.

Holding onto his shoulders you follow his lead, working your hips back and forth, letting the press of his hands guide your speed. The feeling is dizzying, his cock feeling thicker and more filling in this position, and you can’t help the stammered moans and pants that bubble out of you with every downstroke connecting your hips to his.

Sylus mutters a curse into your skin, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and then you feel his tongue.

“Fuck,” You whine, “Sylus,”

He pulls at your hips harder and you pick up the pace, grinding your heels into the mattress for the right leverage, losing yourself to the steady wet sound of him inside you and the heat building back up in your belly.

You shiver at the sensation of his tongue traveling, dragging a line up your chest from the swell of your breast to your collarbone, and when he groans and huffs a needy breath at your throat, you realize what has him so flustered.

“T-take more,” Your hand in his hair again to direct his head, pushing him towards your throat.

“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head and drops the flat of his tongue over the bleeding teeth marks at your throat.

You hiss sharply, a familiar roll of pleasure through you and you grip his hair, “Please, baby, please,”

“Not tonight,” He laps at you again, “just cleaning you up,”

“God,” You moan, your pace faltering for a moment until the pressure of his hands pushes you back into action.

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, pulling away from your throat and using one hand to tug you close by the back of the neck, “you feel…”

You have to hold on, you need him to come after all the work he’s put into pleasuring you, and you can’t let yourself fall apart until he does. You lock eyes with him and his expression, almost pained, his mouth open in silent pleasure and still painted red, pushes you through the ache in your hips and the burning in your thighs. He’s so close. Nearly, nearly there.

”Sylus,” Your voice breathy, “kiss me,”

There’s a flicker of a smile across his mouth but he surges up, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His tongue catches against yours, and you taste the iron of your own blood, you feel the sharpness of his fangs, but all it does is drive you closer and closer to delicious release.

“My sinful little thing,” He pants against your mouth, “you never stop surprising me,”

Your eyes flutter shut, your nails tight against his shoulders, “Please, I need it,”

“What do you need?” He croons, hungrily at your lips once more.

You moan against his mouth, tugging his hair sharply, “Come,” you pant, nearly out of breath, “I need your cum,”

He shudders, groaning.

“Sylus!” You whine again, “Inside, please, please,”

His hand slips from your hair, and the equilibrium changes things back to Sylus in total control. With both hands secured on your ass he takes over, dragging you fast and hard on his cock and meeting every thrust with a hard jut of his hips. He’s fucking into you with reckless need, the head of his cock connecting over and over again with your cervix, and you arch and cry out in his arms.

“No,” He pants, pulling you back to him, “eyes on me,”

“Please,” You beg again, your cunt spasming and fluttering, “I-I’ll come if you just,”

He loses himself immediately, pulling you down hard and choking out a moan, spilling his release deep and grinding you down to prolong his own pleasure, but you’re falling apart right behind him in a breath. A final, dizzying orgasm taking your body like a soft wave, languid and warm, and Sylus nods as you ride it out, coaxing you through every last moment.

When you settle, you feel how much your body is trembling, and he releases his tight grip on your hips to gently massage your skin, soothing touches as he softens inside you.

“Oh my god,” You laugh softly, your forehead pressed to his, “that was,”

“Good?” He asks, a soft, quick kiss to your lips.

“Perfect,” You sigh, “you were perfect.”

He nods, drinking you in for a moment more before he exhales and relaxes, leaning back and meeting your eyes.

“I must look a mess,” You press your cool knuckles to the warmth of your flushed cheeks.

“A beautiful mess,” He counters gently.

You smile lazily at him, feeling boneless and sated and delicious.

Sylus takes the pad of his thumb to the very tip of his razor sharp fangs and pierces his skin, a bead of his own dark blood rising up from the puncture on his pale skin.

His fangs retract and he reaches for you, smoothing his bleeding thumb over the bite mark at your throat. You hiss sharply at the sensation and grip his shoulder, the burn of your skin knitting itself back together something you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to.

“I was too rough with you,” He comments, like he’s filing away that information for himself for next time.

You shake your head though, resting your hand on his wrist, “You weren’t, I wanted every bit of it,”

His thumb sweeps a final line over your skin and he kisses you again, “I’ll keep that in mind,”

You smile against his lips, and then Sylus gives you one final, quick peck.

“I think a shower,” He says, sliding you both smoothly off the bed and keeping you tucked in his arms, “and a nap,”

“I think that’s a perfect idea,”

“And I’m hardly hungry anymore,” He teases as he carries you into the bathroom, “but we’ll order something up for you,”

You nod, relaxing into his care.

“Perhaps a movie,” He suggests, sliding you onto the counter so he can start the shower, “or I could always read to you?”

“Or you could tell me more about next time,” You say slyly, “what was it? Chasing me down in the woods?”

He shakes his head, testing the warmth of the water on his fingertips.

“Having your way with me?” You stretch out your leg to reach him, dragging your foot down his thigh, “Should I struggle? Beg you to stop?”

His hand snaps up, closing around your ankle and he turns towards you, “Be careful, sweetheart,”

“I’m simply curious,” You tease.

“Mhm,” He scoops you back up and walks you straight into the shower until your back is against the chilly tile wall, “Curious?”

You feel him hardening again against your belly and you nod.

“Kitten,” He smirks, “you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?”

“I think I need a little reminder,” You sigh, holding onto his shoulders again.

He kisses you again, pressing you into the shower wall, a smile on his mouth as he nips at your lip, “I’ll bet you do,”

#love and deepspace #lnds #love and deepspace fic #lnds ff #lnds fic #lnds smut #sylus #sylus x you #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus qin #sylus ff #sylus smut #sylus fic #honeyhotteoks fic

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artanissnow · 1 year ago

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Style over 35 monochromatic holiday style

Holiday style doesn’t always have to be the traditional red and green. There Are so many other options in fashion (like this pink one)to achieve a holly jolly outfit. So, for today’s style over 35, monochromatic holiday style is on display! The dress here is a simple cute sweater dress from Shein and shoes too. The bag is an old Kate Spade and I realized I was not wearing ANY jewelry. Weird I…

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#casual outfits #comfy outfits #dopamine dressing #dress #holiday style #holidays outfits #monochrome outfits #outfit of the day #princess core #shein #style #style over 30 #style over 35

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sunshine-tattoo · 8 months ago

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ok let's make something very clear: Taylor Swift is not a baddie.

she a spoiled white woman who grew up very wealthy and who's individual carbon footprint is larger than the entirety of some small nations.

you know who is a southern baddie? Dolly Parton.

grew up in absolute poverty in a shack with dirt floors

(TS has a rich family and spent every Xmas in NYC)

modeled her style after the town trollop, who she thought was the most beautiful woman in the world, and embraced her sexuality.

(TS retains the image of the young innocent virgin white girl despite being 35 years old and every one of her songs is about a man)

wrote a song about the stupidity of the American work system

(TS is a billionaire with two private jets)

has supported the queer community for decades even through some of its darkest times like the AIDS crisis

(TS uses the queer community like a prop)

started a scientific organization to help cure viruses like AIDS and that even helped develop the Covid vaccine

(TS made the last superbowl all about her becauses she was dating one of the players)

has run a charity since 1995 that sends millions of books to children in poverty, particularly the rural south where she grew up

(TS has done nothing for the south and its problems despite her southern belle persona)

"But she told off Trump! Thats something!"

Honey thats the absolute bare minimum.

That's telling someone 'bless you' after they sneeze.

That's holding the door open for someone in a wheelchair.

Thats waving back to a little kid when they wave at you.

It takes 0 risk and 0 effort and should not be a point of praise.

"Well her southern fans and sponsors didn't like it."

So? Woman is a billionaire with connections all over the world. She literally doesn't need them.

Bottom line: Taylor Swift remains an egotistical bourgeoisie white cunt who should be known for her pollution levels instead of her mid music.

While Dolly remains the bad bitch she's been since the 1970s.

#anti taylor swift #dolly parton #socialist #social justice #lgbt

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nickynclark · 1 month ago

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The Psychology of Love and Loathing

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Enemies to lovers!

Word count: 7,584

Warnings: SMUT (18+) no use of y/n, reader goes by 'bunny', discussion of a case (nothing too far from usual Criminal Minds gore), reader has three PhD's (bet you didn't know that), briefly mentions readers mother committing su!cide, mentions of toxic parents, alcohol consumption, jealous! Reader, jealous! Reid, pet names (good girl, silly girl, baby, sweetheart, sweet thing), degradation, oral f! Receiving, like one line of oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v (pls wrap it before you tap it), no mention of reader being on birth control, anal play, overstimulation, after care. If i missed anything let me know!

Author’s note: i’m so sorry im ovulating. This is porn w a shit ton of plot. We’re talkin WORLD BUILDING

MDNI BELOW THE CUT

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

You blink at the papers in front of you, checking once, twice, double checking three times to make sure what you're seeing is correct.

You were on a case in Texas, called in by local police after four bodies, two wealthy couples, were found shot execution-style and posed on different park benches throughout Amarillo. While at first, it seemed as though it was your average serial killer, the autopsy report showed that the gunshot wound was done post-mortem- all four victims were murdered by being forced to drink household bleach.

You looked down at the papers one more time, noticing that one man, Adam Gilman, cleaned houses of the wealthy, and he purchased a lot of bleach. Way more than needed to clean a few bathrooms.

You quickly dial Garcia, and she answers within the first ring.

"Ask and you shall receive."

"Garcia, what can you find out about Adam Gilman?"

You hear typing from the other end of the line before spewing information, "35-year-old white male, he grew up super rich until his dad pulled his college funding his senior year when his sister went to school to be a doctor. He started paying for her," She suddenly sucked in a breath, "It looks like he had to drop out. He was at Harvard Law. Spiraled downhill from there, sending you the files and address now."

"Thanks, Garcia!"

You rush into the room where the rest of the team is and run up to Hotch.

"Look at this! He fits the profile to a t!"

Hotch looks down at his tablet, and you feel eyes glance over to you, about to speak, but Spencer Reid bursts through the doors.

"Guys our unsub is Adam Gilman! He lives five minutes from here, and his job is on the way."

Hotch nods at you, acknowledging that you have the same information but Reid said it louder, "Let's go."

Since you joined the Bureau last year, Spencer Reid has been competing with you. Whereas he was thirty-three with three PhDs, you were twenty-five with the same amount. Of course, he got his when he was much younger, but he still seemed to overcompensate.

He was intimidated by you.

This wasn't the first time a situation like this had happened. It's almost like he had a radar for when you made a big break, and he wanted to steal the spotlight.

And not to mention he hates you for some reason.

Ever since your first week in the BAU, Dr. Reid has acted indifferent to you. You understand that change can be uncomfortable, but you have done nothing to deserve this cold shoulder.

On your first day, you strutted into the office dressed in a pair of black slacks, a black, v-neck blouse, and some hot pink pumps; being honest, you looked like you owned the place.

When Aaron introduced you to the team, you shook everyone's hand except Reid's.

"The number of pathogens passed through a handshake is staggering," he stated mater-of-factly while staring at your hand, "it's actually safer to kiss."

You laugh and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, "Although I appreciate the concern, a handshake is actually a sign of peaceful intentions. Soldiers would cover their swords on their left side and shake their right hand to show they mean no harm," you shrug, "but I understand the mysophobia."

He nodded at you, a glare suddenly hardening his features, "interesting."

He has refused to hold conversation with you, maintain eye contact with you, or be in the same room with you for an extended amount of time ever since.

He hates it the most when you're right.

After arresting Adam, the team desperately needed to interrogate him. He was denying all claims despite all the evidence against him. In fact, all he has said has been denials. Besides that, he didn't speak. He hadn't asked for a lawyer, hadn't shown any recognition to the couples, and hadn't said anything besides I've never seen those people before.

"We need to make him uncomfortable," Morgan says, "he's running this whole show. We gotta flip the tide."

Emily looks up from her Chinese takeout, laughing, "Let's throw Bun and Reid in there."

Your eyes widen, and you are suddenly incredibly red. Your face is on fire, and you start looking around panicked.

The team started referring to you as 'Bun' over the summer when you all went to a bar together. You accidentally had one too many drinks, and Derek said you were bouncing up and down the whole time.

"She's like a Bunny."

"Don't call me a Bunny!" You slur, "I'm mean. And vicious."

Penelope laughs at you, throwing an arm around your shoulder, "Alright, Bun. Let's go dance!"

Ever since that night, the nickname 'bun' stuck.

Although Emily suggested you and Reid distracting Adam as a joke, Rossi's lips pull into a smile, "That just might work."

Emily sets her food down, suddenly aware that she presented the first good idea so far, "we could dress them up some, make them look like a wealthy couple, and have them ask Adam some questions. It might make him mad enough to break."

Aaron looks at you and you gulp subtly, then he looks to Reid, "It's up to you."

You look at your feet, frowning, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get this guy in jail."

Reid simply nods.

"Okay," Aaron says, "we'll go get the stuff."

You and Spencer remain in the small room while the others rush out to get the things you require for your transformation.

"Hi." Your voice comes out quiet.

"Hello." He responds blandly.

You suddenly realize this is the first time you and Reid have been in a room alone together, so you take the opportunity.

"What have I done to you?"

Reid's eyebrows shoot up at the confrontation "Huh?"

You roll your eyes, "ever since my first day you've avoided me. What did I do?"

He scoffs, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." You sigh and run a hand through your hair, "I'm the only person on the team you practically refuse to talk to."

"I'm talking to you right now," he says as if that's a counterargument, "I talk to you all the time."

"Yeah, when you're forced to!" You say exasperatedly, "You know everyone on the team's birthdays, all except mine. You know their family situation because you've asked."

He shrugs, "I know plenty about you."

"How old am I?"

He looks into your eyes calmly, "You're twenty-eight."

"I'm twenty-five."

Emily suddenly bursts into the room, "There isn't anything for you guys in lost and found. You have to go on a shopping trip. Strauss said a 300 dollar limit."

You nod, "I assume that's just for clothes?"

"Yes," She answers, "Reid is going to wear Rossi's watch and a wedding band JJ's going to pick up. Both of you will wear a ring." She then looks to you, "We have a lot of jewelry for you to pick through."

You nod, standing and Reid rises next to you.

Emily tosses you some keys, "be back in an hour."

***

The ride to the mall was quiet. You didn't bother talking to Spencer as you drove, and he didn't bother speaking to you.

He also kept turning down the radio when you tried to turn it up. It was painfully awkward.

Once at the mall, you and Reid split up incredibly fast.

He ran to some men's warehouse, and you rushed to the women's section of a department store.

You quickly pick up a pair of black pinstriped slacks that hug your curves and a tight, white blouse. You finally grab a black, pinstriped blazer, and you head to check out.

On your way, though, a pair of stunning, emerald heels grabs your attention.

You walk closer to study them, and god do they look lavish.

If you weren't here for work, you would grab them in a heartbeat, but you were, and you had already met your price cap.

"Buy them."

You hear Spencer's voice from behind you, and you jump, grabbing your chest in fright.

"What?"

"Get them," he shrugs, "it's obvious you want to."

You laugh shyly, and he stuffs his hands into his jean pockets, his bag of clothes hanging around his wrist.

"I've already met my limit."

"Okay?"

You frown, studying him. He looks calm and relaxed. You tilt your head slightly, and he matches your movement.

No, that can't be right.

You cross your arms in a silent stare down, and he does, too.

"You're mimicking me."

He scoffs, "God, Bun, not everything I do is to spite you!"

Your eyes widen and you suddenly point at him, "You!"

"What?"

"You just called me Bun!"

His eyes barely widen, but he catches himself, staring straight ahead.

His foot stops tapping, "you're hearing things."

"And that's your tell!" You point at his foot, "You just mimicked me, called me 'Bun', and then lied about it!"

He rolls his eyes, "what size are you?"

"You're avoiding the question!"

"You didn't ask a question." He gestures to the heels, "What size?"

"Why?"

"Answer the question, Bunny."

His tone is stern, and you freeze under his stare.

"Nine."

He nods and grabs a box in that size.

"No!" You protest, "Don't!"

"I still had a hundred bucks left over, it's on the company's card."

You blink twice, confused as to why he's being so nice to you.

"Okay. I need to pay and I'm done."

He nods to you, and you both check out. He hands you the heels and you let out a quiet thanks while headed to the car.

***

When you got back to the station, the turnaround was dizzying.

You were shoved into a room to change, as was Reid.

After you changed, JJ came in and whistled.

"Sheesh, Bun, you look good!"

You laugh and straighten out your jacket, slipping on the heels Spencer bought you today.

"Are those new?"

You nod, "yeah, Spencer said he had some left in his budget."

She shook her head, "Reid must've bought those with his own money."

Your eyes widen, and she laughs, "C'mon, Bun. You need to look at jewelry."

You picked out a pair of dainty, diamond earrings, a matching necklace, and several expensive bracelets that had to be physically screwed onto your wrists.

Once standing in front of Hotch, Emily gave you the wedding bands JJ had picked up.

Yours was a gorgeous gold band with an emerald-cut diamond on top. It was simple, but, God, was it stunning.

You slipped it onto your finger and Reid slipped the simple golden band over his, his hands looking all that much better with the ring on it. It makes your mouth water just thinking about his fingers.

You quickly shake your head. No. You hate Spencer Reid. Nothing will change that.

Hotch gives you and Reid strict instructions on how to talk to Adam, and then he's sending you in.

"Sell it," Aaron says, "this might be our only shot."

You give him a curt nod, linking your arm with Reid and smiling as you walk into the interrogation room.

Spencer looks down at you with a look of passion you've never seen before. One that you aren't convinced could be fake.

As soon as you looked at Adam, you could tell there was something off. He was picking at the skin around his nails and chewing on the skin of his lips where they looked raw and painful.

As you sat down in front of him, Spencer was the first to speak.

"Who is this guy again, babe?"

You held back the shock in your face at the pet name as he put a hand on your thigh. You made a point to twist the wedding ring on your finger before opening the files in front of you.

"Adam?" You look up at the man in front of you, "are you Adam?" He nods, and you hum, "Who are you, exactly?"

Reid smiles and looks to you, "Play nice." He slides the files over to him, "Harvard law, that's impressive. Did you apply or did your father buy your way in?"

Adam's eyes narrowed, "I applied and got accepted. I was a prodigy."

You smile subtly, knowing you and Reid have already gotten him to show more of himself than he had to anyone else.

You look at your fake husband and laugh, "I don't think you can decide that you're a prodigy." You look Adam up and down, "my husband, here," you place your hand on Spencer's shoulder, looking at him as if he hung the moon and stars, "he is a prodigy. How old were you when you got your first PhD?"

"Seventeen," he laughed humbly, looking at you, "you flatter me."

You smile softly as Reid squeezes your thigh, something Adam could not see and, therefore, was unnecessary. You look at Spencer, but he refuses to meet your eyes.

You turn back to Adam, pulling out the photos of the four bodies and showing them to him, "have you met these people before?"

He shakes his head, "I've never seen those people before."

"Really?" You ask calmly, "You've never, ever, seen Andrea Haskins?"

Adam shakes his head.

"Never, not once, seen her husband, Kent Haskins, either?"

He shakes his head again.

Reid sits up straighter, linking his hands together on the table in front of him, "you received a pretty generous amount of money from him every month since... August?"

You mentally thank Garcia for that information, and mentally thank Reid for remembering it.

Adam sits up straight, too, but falling shorter than Reid, "I clean their house for them, don't mean I've ever met 'em."

You hum, "I wouldn't let a stranger into our home, would you?"

Reid shakes his head, and Adam gets visibly upset at your interactions. His hands clench to the table ledge, knees bouncing, eyes narrowed.

"Say, Adam," you perk up, "how much bleach do you use per house you clean, about?"

Adam's eyes trained on me, "you're a smart girl," he then looked to Reid, "with an even smarter husband." He spits the words as if they are poison on his tongue, "You do the math."

You stand, smiling softly, "So, not 10 gallons per week?"

Adam shrugs, "If that's your calculation."

You walk closer to the man, sitting on the table next to him and leaning down to him, "And I assume you also have never met the Coleman's?"

He shakes his head.

"Never met anyone in the Coleman family?"

"No. God, you people suck at your job."

"That's actually interesting considering we have video footage of your picking up Lacey Coleman from school last Monday. A family doesn't let a stranger house cleaner pick up their child from school."

Adam's eyes widen, and you know you have him cornered.

"How long had your sister been friends with the Colemans?" Reid interjects.

"Don't you dare talk about her."

"Why not?" Reid asks simply, "Does she bother you?"

"I was going to be a Lawyer, I was going to be successful and make my dad proud of me. Until she ruined it all with her perfect schooling and perfect husband," Adam spits.

"Halley is a pretty successful neurosurgeon, huh? She gets all of daddy's special attention, doesn't she?" You say.

"Get your wife on a leash," Adam says to Reid.

"All you wanted was to feel loved, to hear your dad say he's proud of you," you keep talking, "and you were going to kill him because he wouldn't say it."

"Shut the hell up, bitch!"

"You were getting ready to kill your mom and dad because, hey, why not go straight to the source? Why not kill who made you like this?"

"What if your family pulled your funds for a sibling, huh?" He yells to you and Reid, "How would you feel?"

The room goes silent and Reid allows you to keep talking, keep getting on his nerves.

"His daddy left him when his mom got sick, and my mommy killed herself when I was seven. We worked for our degrees, and we worked even harder for the scholarships that paid for our three PhDs." You hiss, "I would've worked harder to get what I want instead of just expecting it."

"You're a bitch," Adam spit in my face.

"I could be worse. I could take away a little girl's family. I could kill four innocent people out of my frustration and failure."

Reid finally stepped in, grabbing your hand softly and pulling you back to your side of the table.

"I didn't kill those people."

"That's not what your body is telling us, Adam." Reid states simply, "You are hurt and still are hurting, I understand that. But now so is Lacey. That's on you."

Adam's lip quivers, "I didn't hurt Lacey! Lacey was at her friend's house!"

Reid rises, grabs your hand gently, and walks to the door, and you follow.

"Hey!" Adam screams, "where are you going? Get back here!"

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you let go of Reid's hand. He turns to you and watches your expression shift.

"Good work, Bun."

You nod, and he looks like he's about to say something else, mouth opening, but then Hotchner walks in.

"Great work.”

You smile at Aaron, and Reid stares at you with something dark behind his eyes. He looks nervous, and hungry, and concerned, and certain.

"We'll be heading back in 30. Wrap up. Great job, Doctors."

***

On the plane, you and Reid are still in your "Rich Couple" personas, not having enough time to change out.

You sit near the back of the plane, headphones in, and reading Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience by William Blake.

"Little Lamb who made thee, Dost though know who made thee?"

You hear the words of "The Lamb" spoken, causing you to take out your headphones and look to the source: Spencer Reid.

He sits across from you as you ask, "You read Blake?"

"Blake to Poe to Plath, I don't mind."

You narrow your eyes at him, "what do you want?"

"Really?" He asks, "We can't just have a nice moment?"

You raise your eyebrows at him, "Not you and me. We don't have nice moments."

His facial features soften, and he sighs, "I'm sorry for acting so harsh toward you. You didn't deserve that."

You're shocked by his statement, "Pardon me?"

He runs a hand through his hair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, "I was scared, Bun. I was the smart one. I convinced myself that was all I could be," his breath hitches and his eyes connect with mine, "I thought if there was someone smarter, more sociable, and nicer than me, they wouldn't need me anymore."

"Spence..." you start, and you realize it's the first time you've called him his nickname.

He notices it, too, eyes shifting from one of concern to one of understanding, "You're incredibly smart. You're kind, and you're fun to be around. I'm sorry it took me so long to notice that."

You nodded, "thank you."

He nods and goes to stand.

"Wait." You quickly speak up and he freezes, "What's... um..." you stutter, "what's your favorite Poe?"

Reid smiles, sitting back down, "Annabel Lee."

You smile, "Gold-Bug."

He laughs, "Really?"

And you nod.

****

"Let's go get drinks!" Garcia announces as you and the team wrap up your paperwork, and you laugh.

"I don't think so," you smile, "not tonight."

"C'mon, Bun," Garcia whines "It'll be fun!"

Reid suddenly looked at you, eyes darker, eyes that held you tight in a grip, "Yeah, c'mon, Bun." He says the name with a sensuality you had never heard before. It sent a shiver down your spine, "it'll be fun."

You look at him, taking in a shaky breath, "I.. uh, don't have a ride."

"I'll drive you," Reid says simply, and the rest of the team just stares at the interaction.

Things have changed since the interrogation room, you know that, but did you want to be alone with him already?

You look at him, his messy hair, his stubble, and chocolate brown eyes, and your pussy clenches around nothing.

You find yourself nodding, mouth too dry to speak.

"Good," he smiles, "follow me."

Your team watches with uncertainty as you walk off with Spencer, and it's almost like they've seen the change, too.

No, they're profilers. They know Reid had you wrapped around his finger while reciting Blake.

They also knew Spencer had been pining after you since you wore those hot pink heels on the first day of work. But they didn't need to tell you that.

Reid guides you to the elevator, and you comply silently. Once the door closes and it's just you two, you turn to Spencer.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" He responds simply.

You turn to face him, "why are you being so nice to me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Bun."

You roll your eyes, "yeah right."

The elevator doors open, and he walks you to his car, opening the door for you.

"Thank you," you smile cautiously, and he nods.

He sits down in the driver's seat and pulls out of his parking spot. One of his hands rests on the wheel, the other placed on the gearshift. His eyes focus on the road, but they occasionally slide over to you. The silence- although comfortable- practically kills you.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

He glances over at you, and he smirks, "I want to."

You look at him, "why?"

He shrugs, "spent too long not doing it."

You nod and glance out the window, just as Spencer puts the car in park.

As you step out of the car, you hear Derek and Emily from behind you, making a show of letting you know they are also here.

You walked over to Morgan and hugged him.

"Hey, Bunny," he smiles and kisses your forehead, "first rounds on me tonight, sweetheart."

You laugh, "thank god! Need a handsome man to buy me some drinks!"

Reid scoffs from behind you, but you shrug it off, assuming it was about something Emily had said.

It wasn't.

As you walk into the bar with Derek's arm around your shoulder, you quickly make your way to the table with Garcia and Rossi.

"What are you drinking?" You ask Garcia, gesturing to her hot pink drink in front of her, garnished with cotton candy, strawberries on sticks, and a big, twisty straw.

Gracia's eyes widen, "oh my gosh! You've never been here before??" You shake your head, and she squeals with excitement, "Okay, so, it's called the Cotton Candy Chameleon. It's basically strawberry vodka and coconut rum with strawberry soda! Look!" She picks up the cotton candy and places it into the liquid, watching as it rapidly dissolves, "did you see that?!"

"That's why it's called a Chameleon," Derek laughs, arm still around you, "want me to get you one?"

You nod happily, "and a shot of Titos? I'll pay you back!"

Morgan winks at you, "It's on me, Bun."

As he walks toward the bar, you and Garcia continue to chat about anything and everything, her childhood cat, where you grew up, and how Garcia got put on the team.

"You were so good at being bad," you laugh, swirling your third Cotton Candy Chameleon that Morgan brought over to you, "that the FBI gave you a job instead of jail time?"

She nodded, giggling, "Pretty much. Are you going to take that shot?" She points to the round Rossi had bought for the table.

You laugh, quickly picking it up and downing it, "god!"

"Woah!" Morgan laughs, hands catching your hips to keep you steady, "careful, Bunny."

You feel eyes glaring into you, and you trace them to Reid sitting at the bar. He has his elbow on the bar, leaning into his hand as he watches you with a look of unhappiness.

You roll your eyes, finishing the final chug of your drink, and placing a hand on Morgan's chest.

"You're warm," you say with a goofy smile, and Derek laughs.

"Oh, really, sweetheart?"

You nod, leaning further into him as his hands rest on your hips.

You make eye contact with him before you smirk and push away, "I'm going to get another drink."

"Hey, Bun!" You turn around to Rossi, his empty glass raised to you, "Get me another old fashioned."

You nod, smiling at the older man, and waltzing to the bar, right next to Reid.

"You having fun, Bunny?" He asks, voice low.

"Yes, sir." You smile, waiting for the bartender to walk over.

He sucks in a breath at the title, "You sure are touchy with Morgan," he grits out, staring at you, not quite your eyes, but something a little bit lower.

You scoff, "What's it to you?"

"Nothing." He spits, eyes connecting with yours, pupils taking over the brown of his eyes.

The bartender finally comes up to you, a cute girl in a black, low-cut tank top and some black, short shorts. She has short blonde hair, barely reaching her shoulders and it's curled up and pinned back so her hair is framing her face.

She was gorgeous, actually.

"What can I do for ya?" She asks, shaking a drink before breaking the seal and pouring it into a glass.

You tell her your order, and that it's on David Rossi's tab, and she nods.

Then she turns to Spencer, "What about you handsome?" She says it sultry like she's trying to seduce him, "Need another? I'd be happy to get you somethin' else."

Your eyes narrow on her, a deep, red-hot feeling forming in your gut. She doesn't see your stare though, completely focused on Spencer, leaning over the counter so her cleavage is on full display, biting her lip and twirling her hair.

You decided then and there that you hated her.

Reid tells her that he's okay, water if she insists, and when she comes back with his water, she hands him a napkin with ink scribbled on it, "I get off in 45 if you're interested."

"He's not."

The words come out of your lips faster than you could think, your brain taking longer to catch up with your mouth.

"Pardon?" She asks you, calm and calculating, "Didn't know you could decide that for him."

You laugh cockily, "Oh?" You act fast pulling yourself into Reid's lap before he can protest, but his hands wrap around you, trapping you where you sat, "I think I can."

Reid looked at the bartender, then his eyes trailed back to you, "Sorry, Brooklyn, I'm spoken for," his eyes darkened, a sly smile rising on his lips.

The bartender walks away to work on your drinks, and you turn all the way to face Reid.

"What are you doing, Bun?" He asks, voice low. You shift your hips and he hums, grabbing your waist to stop the movement, "Stop that. Talk to me."

You whimper, leaning into his chest, "You were really going to choose some bottle blonde over me?" Your words come out harsh, but it's also the first time you've said what's truly on your mind in front of Reid.

His eyes land back on Brooklyn, and he smirks, "She's pretty, I'll give her that," he looks down at you, right as the bartender places the drinks in front of you, "But you? You're on a whole different level, Bun."

You blush and shake your head, just as Brooklyn walks back over to hand you your drinks.

As she sets them down she says, "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you two were a thing."

You quickly shake your head, "Don't worry about it," you smile, "neither did he."

"In my defense," Spencer laughs, his lips close to your ear, "I didn't know you were an option. If I had, there wouldn't have been a competition."

You shiver when you feel his breath on your neck, "yeah, right. You've hated me since I joined the BAU."

His eyes widened, "Hated you?"

You nod softly, a little confused by the question.

"Hated isn't the word I would use," He laughed.

"What is?" You ask quietly.

He leans his head side to side, as if pondering the best way to answer, "obsessed? Intimidated?" He looked at you, a small smirk playing on his lips, "Lusted?"

Your eyes widened, "what?"

He shrugs, a hand falling to your thigh, thumb drawing circles, "The way you are entrances me. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you exist." He leans his head down so his eyes meet yours, "I knew I couldn't do anything about that, so I stayed away. I guess it came off as hatred."

The hand that wasn't on your leg reached up to pluck the cotton candy off of your drink, opening his mouth and letting the sugar melt on his tongue.

"Mmm," he hummed, eyes still locked with yours, "so sweet, Bun."

Your jaw dropped slightly, thighs clenching, and he grips your flesh, "Nuh, uh. What's wrong?" He chuckles as you whine against him, "Use your words."

You sit up, straightening and sliding off of his lap, "You're a sick freak, Spencer Reid."

He licked his lips, eyes trailing down your body, "I'll bring Rossi his drink, wait by the door."

You cross your arms over your chest, but your heart is pounding so loudly you can hear it in your ears, "what makes you think I listen to you?"

"Oh, Bunny," his finger lifts your chin, "I'm a profiler. Absolutely everything tells me that you'll listen to me."

You roll your eyes and scoff, "And if they ask where we're going?"

A devilish smirk flashes across his lips, and he leans toward your ear, and you can feel his breath on your skin, "you already told them you're tired," he pauses, "I'm going to fuck you to sleep, Doctor."

You suck in a shuddering breath, eyes glazing over as he chuckles, pulling away from you.

You take a step back, mumbling, "Hurry back."

He smiles widely, pupils practically taking over his chocolate eyes, "good girl."

You suck in a breath as he turns on his heel, walking over to the team as you wait by the door. Penelope frowns at you, waving, and Emily blows you a kiss.

Rossi looks at you calmly, and Derek raises a smooth eyebrow with a smirk.

Spencer walks back to you, grabbing your arm as you walk to the car.

Once you get back to his black Dodge Challenger, he presses you against the door, “How drunk are you right now?”

“From one to ten?” You ask, voice quiet, Reid looking at you like you’re a meal.

He nods, hands gripping your hips, “Goddamn it, Bun,” he hisses, “Yes, one to ten.”

“Four,” you answer, and his lips slam into yours in a frenzy.

It’s all tongue and teeth like he couldn’t wait a single second longer to taste you. Like it would kill him.

Your chest arches into his, hands going to his shoulders, holding on for life in the bruising kiss.

He pulls away, his eyes nearly black, eyes filled with an undeniable hunger, and it makes you shiver.

A smirk comes over his face as he steps away from you, opening your door, “get in.”

You don’t have to be told twice, stepping into the car, carefully so you don’t fall in the emerald heels he bought you.

With his own money.

“Spencer?”

He turns on the car and pulls out of the parking spot, “Yeah?”

You look at him, studying how you are both still dressed like a posh-rich couple, “You bought me these heels.”

He nods, chuckling and placing his hand on your thigh, “Excellent observation.”

You shudder at the contact, “with your own money.”

He smirks, “Who told you that?”

“JJ?”

“Ah,” he laughs, “Yeah, green’s your color.”

You raise an eyebrow, “How did you decide that?”

“A few weeks ago you wore this emerald green sweater,” he says, “It looked so goddamn good on you.”

You recall the memory, smiling softly, “Is that why you were avoiding me? You thought I looked pretty?”

His voice gets stern, face serious when he looks over at you, “Stop talking, Bun.”

A belly laugh escapes your mouth, head thrown back as you cackle, “I thought I pissed you off somehow!”

He gives your thigh a sharp squeeze, “I don’t think I’ve ever been genuinely angry with you.”

You sit dumbfounded, a quiet oh slipping past your closed lips.

He looks at you and parks the car, “I’ve been upset, frustrated, and God have I been irritated with you,” he turns to look at you, pulling his hand away from your leg, “But I have never been angry with you.”

He unbuckles quickly as you stare at him in surprise, and he gets out of the car, rushing around to open your door, “hurry up.”

You stumble out of the car, and he puts a hand on the small of your back, ushering you into his apartment.

You don’t get a chance to fully appreciate the chaotic charm of Spencer Reid’s place. As soon as you notice the books piled up everywhere, he spins you around, pressing your back against the door and capturing your lips in another kiss. This kiss is slower and more controlled, with his hands sliding up your sides to your back, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck. You ball his shirt into your hands, pulling him impossibly closer.

“God, Bun, your fucking intoxicating,” he sighs against your lips, hands slipping under your shirt to rest on your bare hips, and you sigh at the contact.

He smirks, trailing wet kisses down your neck, gently grazing his teeth over your pulse point, and you moan, “there she is,” he mumbles, “been wanting to hear you make those pretty little sounds for a while.”

You whimper, “Shut up.”

He laughs, tugging you away from the door, and guiding you into his bedroom.

You shed off your suit jacket, and he rips your shirt over your head before pushing you down on his mattress. You gasp as you fall, Spencer's hands quickly move to your slacks, unbuttoning them and looking up at you with eyes so fiery you feel your whole body set aflame.

“Yes,” you say, noticing the silent question Spencer is asking you, “please, yes.”

He smirks, kissing the skin just above the waistline of your pants before tugging them down, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off.

He throws the items into the corner of his room, sitting up and looking at you: dressed in nothing but a black bra and matching panties, his eyes darken. He slides his hands down your body, and he practically growls when he feels your sopping wet cunt.

“God dammit, you’re so wet Bunny,” he says, his finger sliding over the soaked fabric of your panties, “such a silly girl, thinking I could want anyone but you.”

You whimper at the comment, and he leans down to kiss your upper thigh, slowly spreading your legs apart with the palms of his hands. Your legs widen as he settles in, kissing slowly up and around them, licking, sucking, and biting until you’re littered with heart-shaped marks.

“Gonna show you how much I wanted you,” he hisses, his hot breath fanning over your covered pussy, “gotta let you know how dumb you are for thinking I was anyone’s but yours.”

You whimper shamelessly at the comment, your legs trying to close, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, Bunny?” he laughs, looking up at you from between your thighs, “You like it when I tell you just how stupid you are? How fuckin’ useless that little brain of yours is?”

You nod rapidly, and Spencer licks a thick stripe over your clothed core. You let out a loud gasp, your head lolling to the side at the much-appreciated attention. He pushes your underwear to the side, diving into your pussy like a man starved. Spencer kitten licks your clit before pulling it into his mouth and sucking harshly, and your back arches from the bed.

“Fuck, Spence,” you moan, hands shooting into his hair, “so fuckin good, feels so good.”

“Mmm, there you go, baby,” he says, his index finger circling your entrance, “let me know how good I’m doing,” and his finger slowly pushes into you as his mouth reconnects to your hot skin.

Spencer Reid was talented with his tongue, but, god, his fingers were a whole other story.

He curled his finger toward him, finding that sweet, gummy spot inside you almost immediately, abusing it before inserting another and scissoring his fingers.

“You’re so tight,” he mumbles against your cunt, and a loud moan slips from your lips, your hands tangling into his hair as you desperately try to grind against his tongue, but he puts a hand over your stomach, holding you down.

He continues his torment, fingers working you open and his tongue moving rapidly through your folds. His fingers drag down your front wall slowly, and you can’t help his name slipping off of your tongue.

He smirks, looking up at you, “Atta girl, Bunny. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

You moan loudly as he continues his torment. Your legs start to shake, his tongue swirling circles around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and one of your hands grabs your breast to ground you. Your breathing gets ragged, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming.

“You gonna cum for me, Bunny?” He asks, voice low, “Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

You nod, and he tsk’s.

“Without asking?” He says, a smirk on his perfect lips, slowing his fingers down and moving to kiss the insides of your thighs, “Not even going to ask after I’ve worked so hard for you?”

You throw your head back with a groan, “Please, Spencer!”

“Please what?”

You consider slapping him, telling him to stop treating you like some desperate slut, but in your current state? You might as well be.

“Please let me cum! I’ve been so good for you, Spence, I’ll be so good!”

“Yeah? You going to be my good girl?” he asks, eyes locking with yours, eyebrows raised, as he speeds up his fingers inside of your spasming pussy, “You promise?”

“Promise! Please, Spence, let me cum for you!”

He pauses for a second like he’s thinking, the smirk on his face growing, “cum for me, Bunny,” and he watches your face, jaw dropped as you orgasm around his fingers, your slick coating his palm and dripping onto the sheets below you as he works you through your bliss.

Once you come down, though, his fingers don't stop moving, his thumb moving to rub tight circles on your pulsing clit, “You’ve got another one in you,” he says as you bite your lip and your eyes water slightly, “C’mon, baby, you can give me another, right?”

You nod your head, your lip tugged between your teeth, your legs still shaking. He doesn’t give you time to breathe, just continues to suck and lick on your clit like it’s what he was made for, and, before you know it, your eyes clench shut as you rapidly approach another orgasm.

Little whimpers leave your lips, and Spencer chuckles slightly, “My poor girl, so desperate for me. I can tell you’re getting close again, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, and he speeds up his pace, your jaw dropping into a silent ‘o’.

He kisses your stomach, holding your shaking legs with his free hand, “Give it to me, Bun.”

And you release with reckless ambition, thighs flung open and a hand gripping the sheets for your life as a string of moans leaves your lips. Spencer removes his fingers and moves down to lick up your come, and you have no choice but to whimper. He smirks and pulls away from your cunt, placing his lips hot on your own, and you taste yourself.

“You’re so sweet, Bunny. Sweeter than candy,” he sighs, hands sliding down your chest.

You whimper, forcing your hands into his hair in another soul-crushing kiss, and he chuckles into it.

“Desperate for something?”

And you nod, one hand trailing down the front of his body, grabbing his dick covered by his pants and he groans.

“You want this cock, Baby?” He lifts off of you, sitting with his knees on either side of your body while he quickly undoes the top two buttons of his shirt before deeming it useless and pulling it over his head while your hands make quick work of his pants, pulling off his belt and tugging his pants and boxers down enough to free his aching cock.

You moan at the sight, immediately leaning forward to kiss his tip, before he pushes you back onto the bed.

“Another time, Bun,” he grumbles, “need to feel you around me.”

You moan, nodding and lining him up with your quivering pussy, and he pushes forward just slightly, enough for his tip to pop inside of you, and the groan that leaves his lips is pornographic.

“She’s so fuckin’ tight, baby, can feel her squeezing me.”

You whimper, “please! More!”

He chuckles darkly at your request, “yeah? You need something?”

You roll your hips forward, pushing him in a little further before he slaps the outside of your thigh harshly.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He emphasizes his words by pulling out slightly, and pushing back in, fucking you with just his tip, and a desperate gasp leaves your lips.

“Look at you,” he groans, continuing his torturous motions, “so desperate for my cock. Such a nasty little thing.”

And the thrusts harshly, abruptly sheathing his whole cock inside of you, and your head throws back.

He has the audacity to laugh at you, quickening his pace, each thrust hitting causing him to hit your cervix in a blissfully painful way, your eyes rolling back, begging for something. You're not quite sure what, though.

“So fucked out you can't think straight?” He coos, his pace never slowing, “if I knew this was all it took to shut you up I’d have done it a long time ago.”

And you whine at the thought.

He raises an eyebrow, “You like that idea, don't you, Bunny?” And you nod.

Suddenly, he pulls out completely, slapping your thigh again, “Roll over. Hands and knees.”

You quickly comply, supporting yourself on shaky arms and legs, and he trails a hand up your spine before pushing down, forcing your chest to the bed below you.

He groans as you arch your back, quickly pushing himself back inside your sopping cunt.,

“Such pretty holes you got here, baby,” he whispers, spitting onto your asshole as one of his thumbs spreads out the lubricant, causing your breath to hitch.

“Wanna fill both of them for you, can I do that?”

And you nod recklessly, your head bouncing against the pillows at the speed and power of his thrusts, and he takes your permission to push his thumb into your virgin ass, and the moan that rips through your throat is almost humiliating.

“You like being so full of me, don't you, Bunny?”

And you groan out, “yes! Fuck, I’m so close, Spencer!”

He laughs as your cunt starts quivering around his cock, his tip bullying that sweet spot inside of you.

“I know sweet thing, give it to me. Cum around my cock.”

With permission, you release around him, your pussy clenched around his dick and your ass squeezing his thumb, but he keeps fucking you through it.

His free hand laces through your hair, pulling your head back as you whimper in overstimulation.

“Take it,” he groans, mumbling more to himself as his cock twitches inside of you, “come on, take it like the dirty whore you are. Love having me fill both your nasty holes, fuck.”

His rhythm falters, and he thrusts one or two more times before spilling inside of you, fucking his seed deeper inside of you.

Once he calms down, he slowly removes his thumb before carefully pulling out of your pussy, and you whimper at the empty feeling.

“Stay here,” he whispers, kissing your hip before scrambling to the bathroom for a warm, damp washcloth.

He gently wipes you off, murmuring about how good you did for him, saying he’s proud of you before he helps you roll over onto your back.

He chuckles at the goofy smile on your lips, eyes tired and droopy, and he pushes the hair that had matted to your skin with sweat out of your face.

“You okay?” He asks, voice low, and you nod happily.

“‘M perfect.”

“Good,” he smiles, pulling the comforter over you and cuddling up to your spent body.

You lay in silence for a moment, happy and relaxed in his arms, before you speak up.

“So, you never hated me?”

“Jesus Christ, Bun,” he sighs exasperatedly, “go to sleep.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut

926 notes · View notes

23victoria · 6 months ago

Text

34 + 35

pairings: 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

warnings: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 (𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗉 𝗂𝗍), 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍

authors note: 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗁𝗆𝗆! 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇....𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁! 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽!! 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒!! 🤍

𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌?! CLICK HERE

1k celebration f1 masterlist

The sun peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom as you begin to stir. The smell of something delicious wafts through the air, pulling you from your slumber. You stretch, the soft sheets rustling around you, and that's when you see Charles standing in the doorway, a tray in his hands and a loving smile on his face.

"Good morning, baby," he says, his voice filled with affection.

You sit up, propping yourself on the pillows as he brings the tray to you. It's a delightful spread of fresh fruit, fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Charles, this looks amazing!" you exclaim, touched by the effort he's put into making your morning special.

He sets the tray on your lap and leans in to kiss your forehead. "Only the best for you," he says, his eyes sparkling with love. "I wanted to start our anniversary weekend off right."

As you take a bite of the pancakes, savoring the sweet syrup, he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a look of adoration. "You have until tonight to pack your essentials," he says casually.

You pause, fork halfway to your mouth. "Pack my essentials? What do you mean?"

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I already had your BFF buy you stuff and pack everything you might need. Your job is just to relax and get ready."

You're shocked, a mixture of excitement and curiosity bubbling up inside you. "Where are we going?" you ask, your voice filled with anticipation.

You stare at him, speechless. "Wait. Charles! My hair, my nails... nothing is done. Are you serious?"

"It's a surprise," he says with a wink. "But don't worry about a thing. I've scheduled a whole day of pampering for you. Your hair, nails, everything—it's all taken care of."

He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly. "That's what you're doing today. Just relax and enjoy yourself. I've got everything planned."

After breakfast, you get ready for your day of pampering. You’re still buzzing with excitement and curiosity about the surprise trip. Charles gives you one last kiss before you head out the door, his parting words making you smile. "Enjoy your day, baby. You deserve it."

Your first stop is a high-end salon downtown, where you're greeted by friendly staff who seem to know exactly who you are. "Welcome! We've been expecting you," the receptionist says with a warm smile.

You're ushered into a private room where your stylist awaits. She’s bubbly and professional, and she wastes no time in discussing what you’d like for your hair. After a brief consultation, you decide on a style that's elegant yet easy to manage, perfect for a surprise trip.

As she works, you relax, letting the tension melt away. The stylist is skilled, her hands working magic on your hair. She gives you a deep conditioning treatment, a trim, and styles your hair into soft, cascading waves that frame your face beautifully.

Next, you’re led to the nail section, where you choose a chic chrome white French tip with tiny jewels for a touch of glamour. The nail technician is meticulous, ensuring each nail is perfect. The process is soothing, and you find yourself chatting with her, the time passing quickly.

Once your nails are done, you move on to a luxurious facial. The esthetician is gentle, applying various creams and masks that rejuvenate your skin, leaving it glowing and refreshed. You close your eyes, letting the serene environment and soft music lull you into a state of complete relaxation.

By the time you’re finished, you feel like a new person. Your hair looks stunning, your nails are impeccable, and your skin feels silky smooth. As you step out of the salon, you can’t help but admire your reflection in the glass door. Charles is going to love this, you think to yourself with a smile.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Charles picks you up outside the salon, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. "Wow, you look incredible," he says, pulling you in for a kiss. "How was your day?"

"It was amazing," you reply, your heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you so much for everything. But I'm still dying to know where we're going."

He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that makes your heart flutter. "All in good time, baby."

He drives you to the airport, the anticipation building with each passing mile. When you arrive, he parks and leads you inside, his hand warm and reassuring in yours. As you walk through the bustling terminal, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves.

"Charles, seriously, where are we going?" you ask again, hoping he’ll give you a hint.

He just smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You'll see soon enough. Trust me."

You board a private plane, a luxury you hadn't expected. The interior is plush and comfortable, with soft leather seats and elegant décor. As you settle in, a stewardess offers you a drink, and you accept a glass of champagne, the bubbles tickling your nose as you take a sip.

Charles sits beside you, his hand resting on your thigh. "I arranged for dinner to be served once we're in the air," he says, his voice low and intimate. "I thought it would be nice to enjoy a meal together while we fly."

You look at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "You're so cute," you say, leaning in to kiss him. "I love you. I'm so excited but also a little nervous."

He smiles, his eyes filled with warmth. "I love you too. And there's no need to be nervous. Everything is going to be perfect."

The plane takes off smoothly, and soon you’re soaring above the clouds. The stewardess brings out dinner—a beautifully arranged spread of gourmet dishes. There's a succulent filet mignon, a delicate salmon fillet, roasted vegetables, and a variety of decadent desserts.

As you dine, you and Charles talk about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily between you. The food is delicious, each bite a new sensation of flavor and texture. You feel completely spoiled, each moment more perfect than the last.

"You're really pulling out all the stops," you say, taking a sip of your champagne. "This is like a dream."

He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. "You deserve nothing but the best," he says softly. "I wanted to make this anniversary unforgettable."

You smile, squeezing his hand. "It already is. But I can't help but wonder—where are we going?"

He chuckles, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your hand. "Patience, baby. You'll know soon enough."

After dinner, you both recline your seats, the plane dimming its lights for the evening. You snuggle close to Charles, his arm wrapped around you as you gaze out at the stars twinkling outside the window.

"I can't wait to see what you have planned," you whisper, your voice filled with excitement.

He kisses your forehead, his lips soft and warm against your skin. "It's going to be amazing," he promises. "I can't wait to share it with you."

As the plane continues its journey, you close your eyes, feeling completely content. The anticipation of the surprise destination fills you with a sense of adventure and wonder. With Charles by your side, you know that whatever awaits you will be perfect.

Several hours later, the plane begins its descent. You wake up, feeling refreshed and curious about where you are. Charles looks at you, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"We're almost there," he says, his voice filled with anticipation.

You look out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of your destination. The landscape below is beautiful, lush and green with hints of water sparkling in the distance. As the plane touches down, you feel a rush of excitement.

Once you’ve landed, Charles helps you gather your things, and you step off the plane into the warm, balmy air. The scenery is breathtaking—palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, the ocean stretching out to the horizon, and the sky painted with the colors of the setting sun.

“Charles, this is incredible,” you say, your eyes wide with wonder. “Where are we?”

He takes your hand, leading you towards a waiting car. “Welcome to Thailand,” he says with a grin. “Our home for the next week.”

You gasp, your heart racing with excitement. “Thailand? Are you serious?”

He nods, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I thought it would be the perfect place to celebrate our anniversary.”

You throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Charles. This is the best surprise ever.”

He kisses you, his lips warm and loving against yours. “Anything for you, baby. Now, let’s get settled in. We have an amazing week ahead of us.”

As you drive towards your hotel, the excitement and anticipation build within you. You can’t wait to see what other surprises Charles has in store. With him by your side, you know this trip will be nothing short of magical.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

As you make your way to the candle-lit dinner he meticulously planned, the soft glow of lanterns and the soothing sound of the waves set the perfect ambiance. The setting is picturesque—a secluded beach with a table adorned with flowers, candles flickering gently in the evening breeze, and the scent of the ocean filling the air.

Charles, ever the gentleman, pulls out your chair, his eyes never leaving yours. He looks dashing in a crisp white shirt that contrasts beautifully with his tanned skin, his hair slightly tousled by the wind. You can’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness he’s put into this evening.

As you sit down, a waiter appears with a bottle of your favorite wine. Charles pours it for you, the liquid shimmering in the candlelight. You clink glasses, and he raises his, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“To us,” he says, his voice deep and sincere. “To three amazing years and many more to come.”

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. “To us,” you echo, taking a sip of the wine.

The first course arrives—a delicate seafood platter with fresh oysters, shrimp, and lobster, all beautifully presented. You savor each bite, the flavors bursting on your tongue. Charles watches you, his eyes dark with a mix of love and desire.

“This is amazing,” you say, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. “You really outdid yourself.”

He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. “Only the best for you,” he replies, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

The conversation flows effortlessly as you enjoy the meal. You talk about your favorite memories from the past three years, laughing and reminiscing about the adventures you’ve shared. Charles is attentive, hanging on your every word, his gaze never wavering from your face.

The main course is a sumptuous Thai curry, rich and aromatic, with just the right amount of spice. You both savor the complex flavors, occasionally feeding each other bites. The intimacy of the moment is palpable, the connection between you deepening with each shared taste.

As the meal draws to a close, the waiter brings out a decadent dessert—mango sticky rice, perfectly sweet and fragrant. Charles takes a bite, then leans over to kiss you, his lips tasting of mango and coconut.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with emotion.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

After dinner, you and Charles walk back to your hotel, hand in hand. The night is warm, the air filled with the scent of jasmine and the distant sound of music from a nearby festival. When you reach your room, he opens the door with a flourish, revealing a scene straight out of a fairy tale. The room is dimly lit, with rose petals scattered across the bed and soft music playing in the background.

Charles pulls you close, his hands resting on your hips. “I have one more surprise for you,” he says, his breath warm against your ear.

You raise an eyebrow, curious and excited. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He smiles, a slow, sensual smile that sends shivers down your spine. “Why don’t you sit down and find out?”

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching as he moves to the small table in the corner. He lights a few more candles, their soft glow adding to the romantic atmosphere. Then he turns back to you, his eyes dark and smoldering.

He walks over to you, his movements graceful and deliberate. When he reaches you, he kneels down, his hands sliding up your legs to rest on your thighs. “You look beautiful tonight,” he says, his voice low and filled with desire.

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against your skin. He starts at your ankle, kissing his way up your leg, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. By the time he reaches your inner thigh, you’re already aching with need.

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with love and lust. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

You lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows as he continues his slow, sensual exploration. His hands are gentle but firm as they slide up your dress, pushing the fabric aside to reveal your bare skin. When his lips finally reach your core, you can’t help but moan, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

He takes his time, his tongue teasing and tasting you with a skill that leaves you breathless. Each flick and swirl sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, building higher and higher until you’re on the edge of ecstasy. You grip the sheets, your knuckles white as you hold on, the sensations overwhelming.

“Charles, I’m so close,” you gasp, your body trembling with need.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense. “Come for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you come.”

His words send you over the edge, your body arching as the orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, your vision going white with pleasure. Charles doesn’t stop, his tongue still moving against you, prolonging your release until you’re shaking with aftershocks.

When you finally come down, he looks up at you, his lips glistening. “You taste amazing,” he says, his voice husky.

You pull him up to you, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. “Your turn,” you whisper, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

You push Charles onto his back, your hands moving to unbutton his shirt. He watches you, his eyes filled with anticipation and desire. When you finally have his shirt off, you trail kisses down his chest, your tongue flicking out to taste his skin. He groans, his hands tangling in your hair as you make your way lower.

When you reach the waistband of his pants, you look up at him, your eyes dark with desire. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel,” you say, your voice low and sultry.

He swallows hard, his eyes never leaving yours. “You always do,” he replies, his voice rough with need.

You smile, your fingers deftly undoing his belt and sliding his pants down. When he’s finally bare before you, you take a moment to admire him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body.

Then you lean down, your lips wrapping around him, your tongue teasing the sensitive head. He groans, his hips bucking as you take him deeper, your mouth moving up and down his length with practiced ease. You can feel him trembling beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets as he tries to hold on.

“God, you’re so good at that,” he gasps, his voice strained.

You hum in response, the vibration sending shivers through his body. You take him deeper, your hand moving to stroke the base as your mouth works its magic. He’s close, you can feel it, his body tensing as he nears the edge.

Just as he’s about to come, you pull back, a wicked smile on your lips. He looks at you, his eyes filled with desperation and desire. “Please,” he begs, his voice rough. “I need you.”

You climb onto the bed, straddling his hips as you align yourself with him. “Not yet,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “I want to ride you first.”

You sink down onto him, both of you gasping at the sensation. You start to move, your hips rocking back and forth as you take him deep inside you. The pleasure is intense, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your body. Charles watches you, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping your hips as you ride him.

“You look so hot,” he groans, his voice filled with awe. “God, I love watching you like this.”

You smile, your movements quickening as you feel the pleasure building. “I love it too,” you gasp, your body trembling with need.

Just as you’re about to come, Charles flips you over, pinning you beneath him. He thrusts into you hard and fast, his hands gripping your thighs as he drives you both towards release. The pleasure is overwhelming, each thrust sending you higher and higher until you’re on the edge of ecstasy.

“You want me to get you pregnant?” he growls, his voice rough with desire.

“Yes,” you moan, your body arching beneath him. “Yes, Charles, I want it so much.”

He thrusts into you one final time, both of you crying out as you come together. The sensation is intense, your body shaking with the force of your release. When it finally subsides, you collapse against the bed, your body spent and satisfied.

Charles pulls out of you gently, his movements careful and tender. He reaches for a warm rag, cleaning you up with a soft touch. “You were amazing,” he murmurs, his voice filled with love and admiration.

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “So were you,” you reply, your voice soft.

He finishes cleaning you up, then scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. When you see the rose petals and warm water waiting, you can’t help but smile. “You really thought of everything,” you say, your voice filled with wonder.

Charles sets you down gently into the bath, the warm water enveloping your tired muscles and soothing your skin. The scent of the rose petals fills the air, adding to the romantic atmosphere. He slips in behind you, pulling you close so your back rests against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you securely.

You both sigh in contentment, the warm water and intimate setting creating a perfect moment of peace and relaxation. Charles nuzzles your neck, placing soft kisses along your shoulder.

“This was perfect,” you murmur, leaning back into him.

He tightens his hold on you slightly, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he whispers. “I wanted tonight to be special for you.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “It was more than special. It was unforgettable.”

He smiles, his eyes filled with love. “I love you,” he says softly.

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart swelling with emotion.

You rest in the bath together, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Charles’s hands gently caress your skin, his touch soothing and comforting. You close your eyes, letting yourself relax completely in his embrace.

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