#the way you see his expression change as they circle him

[joocomics]

ಬ be quiet (or not)

pairing: non-idol!ten x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 953

contains: university au, sub!reader, usage of toys (vibrator), exhibitionism kink, dirty talk, light humiliation kink

[ wayv masterlist | general masterlist ]

“I will move my hand now,” Ten warns you, but his low voice with an evident sneering tone makes it sound more like a command than anything else; a command he knows you’d suck at following.

It sounds like I want to see you try and fail.

His bold eyes peer into yours in attempt to read your answer in the way they are glazed over with arousal. It’s a small plaything that’s working between your legs, but with a strong impact on your whole body, causing your gaze to be constantly refocusing on the view in front of you, more specifically on him from different angles as you’re locked inside the bathroom.

“You probably know how to keep quiet since you brought this little thing with you.” Ten’s hand retrieves and he cannot help but grin when he catches you desperately tucking your lip between your teeth to avoid making a sound the second he uncovers your mouth. “C’mon, tell me… Why do you have this in your bag anyway?”

The same warmth that overflowed your body when you ran into him on the stairs earlier spreads beneath your skin once again. How come you forget to zip up your bag once and out of all things you keep inside your vibrator is what falls out of it? And out of all people in this building he’s the one to witness it?

However, the feeling of indignity you suffered from in that particular situation which led to this present moment lingers differently now… and you’re enjoying it rather than wanting to escape from it.

“It’s just…” you speak up quietly, “I’ve been feeling stressed out lately.”

“So you hide and touch yourself in public?” His eyes widen with a sparkling glow, the same way they did when he picked up your toy to observe it up close. It’s a discreet size, but there was no way he could ignore it while helping you gather your stuff.

“I—“ you gulp after an unsuccessful attempt to respond. The effects of the vibrations are causing moans to rise into your throat. “I’ve never done it h-here. Just in my car.”

You look at Ten with more concentration after his finger lifts your chin higher. He’s attractive, he really is. Especially when he’s smirking at you condescendingly like that and you can’t do anything except anticipate his next move or his next teasing question.

The son of the dean of this university… If you could turn back time to tell your past self that one day you’re going to find yourself hidden in the campus bathroom with him while everyone else is in class you wouldn’t believe yourself.

“No, I get it, baby,” Ten nods as a gesture of rapport. “It’s exam season, that’s always stressful, isn’t it?” The artificial concern drips from his voice, erotic and tempting in a way you cannot describe.

The small space of the cubicle is making you both feel hotter and you can sense sweat growing on your neck as the buzzing sensation starts to burn in your core.

You move the vibrating head in a slow circle, doubling the pressure on your clit by pressing harder.

“I’m close—“ You whisper the same moment Ten leans in with a hand against the wall behind you where your figure is quivering from the approaching high.

His gaze lowers all the way down to your panties stretched from your ankles. They have a dark spot, a result from the few minutes you spent making out before he turned on your personal toy.

“I think I’m gonna keep those.” He says as you pant into his face; his expression changes into something completely new once your free hand grasps on his hoodie. He swallows the reckless urge forming inside him at the same pace as his erection throbs - stimulated even further from the pretty way you’re breaking down for his eyes only. “I want to make sure that you’re really gonna come over at my place tonight.”

A high pitched sound echoes throughout the tiled walls, but there was no time to prevent it as Ten’s fingers slip inside you without a warning, eager to speed up the process of reaching your climax, but also unable to stop wondering how you feel down there.

“Fuck—“ he mutters in one breath, guiding his lips against yours, but without actually touching them, “you’re perfect for my cock, pretty.”

“I will—“ you mewl in a delayed response while quickening the circles on your sensitive point. Your eyes are squeezed shut as your tummy tightens from the gliding movements that excite your walls with each rub.

“Good.” Ten chuckles amused by your reactions, by your neediness, before his voice turns firm again. “I’m gonna teach you how to actually keep quiet. A perverted girl like you needs a lesson or two.”

You’re unsure if it was just a coincidence or if his words were what pushed you over the edge, but seconds later, you cum around his curled fingers, making him snicker again; this time with your efforts to endure the sensation as calmly as possible which were quite pathetic.

“Tsk, almost got us caught.” He grabs your face with a quick domineering grip almost as if he wants to look at you carefully one more time so he can make sure he has all its details memorised.

Fortunately, the rush washed over you just in time for him to go.

In eight minutes lectures will start coming to an end, and as the son of the dean, he wants to save himself the trouble of being seen leaving the women’s bathroom with a boner and a pair of panties in the back pocket of his jeans.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[uniquexusposts]

Driver of the day | C. Leclerc

Summary: Charles is asked to pick up the little sister of his best friend at the airport.

Charles Leclerc drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his sunglasses shielding him from the Riviera's afternoon sun. Theo, one of his best friends, sat beside him, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression, occasionally glancing up at the chaos of Nice Airport’s Kiss and Ride.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Theo asked, flicking through his notifications. “There are better things to do than standing here unnecessarily long.”

“Because her brother asked,” Charles replied without looking over.

Theo snorted. “Right, and when he asks, you jump. Got it.”

Charles didn’t bother responding, his attention shifting to the waiting crowd. “He said she would be standing near the main pickup area.”

Theo squinted through the windshield, his eyes scanning the line of travellers, some were leaving, others arrived. “What does she even look like now? It’s been, what, four years?”

Charles shrugged. “Same as before, I guess. Short, shy, always in oversized dresses or black clothing...”

“And braces,” Theo added with a grin. “Don’t forget the braces.”

They both laughed, their shared image of Y/n frozen in the awkward teenage years when they teased her relentlessly. But then Theo straightened, leaning closer to the window. “Wait... oh, shit, is that her?”

Charles frowned, following Theo’s gaze. His grip on the wheel loosened as his eyes landed on a woman standing by a suitcase. She was polished, confident, elegant, and nothing like the Y/n they remembered. “Holy shit, indeed,” he muttered.

Theo leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief. “No way. That’s not her. That’s... someone else. Has to be.”

“She’s standing exactly where your brother said she would be,” Charles said, his voice quieter now.

Theo grinned, recovering quickly. “Well, if it’s not her, at least we are about to make a stranger’s day.” He rolled down the window and leaned out, his smirk wide. “Need a taxi to Monaco?”

The woman turned toward them, and her expression shifted from confusion to surprise to annoyance as recognition flickered across her face.

“Yep, that’s her,” Charles said under his breath, pulling the car into park and stepping out.

Y/n’s voice carried as she looked at them. “What are you two doing here? Where’s my brother?”

Charles grinned, slipping his sunglasses up onto his head. “Something came up. He sent us instead.”

Theo was already out of the car, circling to grab her suitcase. “And lucky for us, too. Although... we almost didn’t recognise you.”

Charles nodded, his grin turning a touch softer as he studied her. “We were expecting the old Y/n.”

“The braces. The dresses,” Theo chimed in, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“Not... this,” Charles finished, gesturing toward her with a vague wave of his hand.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp. “This?”

Theo smirked. “You know, the whole ‘looking like you just walked off a runway’ thing.”

Charles chuckled as he opened the back door for her. “Ignore him. He’s not used to surprises.”

Y/n sighed, brushing past them to climb into the car. “And I see you two haven’t changed at all.”

Theo hoisted her suitcase into the trunk, laughing. “Still bossy. Yep, it’s definitely her.”

As they returned to the car and Charles merged into traffic, Theo twisted in his seat, looking back at her. “So, what’s Madrid been like? Because, clearly, it did something to you.”

Charles shook his head, his grin lingering as he watched Y/n through the rearview mirror. “Careful, Theo. You might not survive the ride to Monaco if you keep that up.”

Theo and Y/n gasped when Charles braked hard. Y/n’s hand reached for the door for a grip, and her eyes grew round.

“Why is he driving?” She asked.

A grin formed on Theo’s lips. “You know, he needs to practice his normal driving skills in a normal car on a normal road every once in a while.”

“Theo, what the fuck,” Charles replied with an annoyed sigh.

For the first time, a smile formed on Y/n’s lips. “Glad you force him to because I can’t tell this is an F1 driver for Ferrari.”

Laughter from Theo filled the car, even to the point he started to cough and gasp for air. Y/n couldn’t help, but laugh as well, but she silently laughed. It was silent at the driver's side, as Charles didn’t know how to react. However, he could smile at her comment as it made her laugh.

★

The car pulled into the Maison's driveway, the sound of the engine echoing softly through the otherwise peaceful area. As Charles slowed down, Y/n glanced out the window, smiling at the familiar surroundings.

As Charles steered the car to the front door, Theo leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "Well, this is it.”

Y/n looked at the front door, then around the car and finally at Charles. “You’re really gonna park it like this?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Theo chuckled. "Don’t worry, he’s got normal parking skills." He shot Charles a teasing grin.

Charles muttered something under his breath, his hands tight on the steering wheel as he guided the car into place, clearly trying to ignore the jabs.

Once the car came to a stop, Y/n pushed open the door and stepped out. She grabbed her suitcase from the trunk, still feeling the faint adrenaline buzz from their chaotic drive. “You know,” she said, her smile playful, “you might want to stick to F1 tracks, Charles. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

Theo’s laughter erupted again, echoing around the driveway. “You should’ve seen her face when he hit the brakes,” he said, his voice nearly cracking with amusement.

Charles rolled his eyes as he exited the car, closing the door behind him. “Very funny,” he muttered.

Y/n turned to face him, a grin still tugging at her lips. “Honestly, I’m just glad I survived that ride. Can’t say the same for my heart, though.”

Charles gave her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not the first person to say that.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood to be your next record,” she replied, still smiling.

“Next time, I’ll make sure you’re in the front seat,” Theo said, his tone mock-serious as he stepped up next to her. “First-row experience.”

“Let’s just get inside,” Charles grumbled, the playful banter finally wearing thin. “I’ll deal with you two later.”

“Ooooooo,” Theo hummed, throwing his hands up.

As they entered the Maison, soft words filled the air. They all walked to the living room, where the words came from. Laurent, Y/n’s brother, was calling. His suit was slightly wrinkled, and his tie was loosened, the telltale signs of a long day at work. He was still in the process of kicking off his shoes when he saw his little sister. A massive smile appeared, and his jaw dropped in excitement. He pointed at his phone and held up his hand, letting them know it would take five minutes. He walked over to Y/n and gave her a hug and a kiss on her hair.

Y/n smiled. Her brother had always been this way: always multitasking and making sure things were in order. It was one of the reasons she admired him so much. She sat down on the couch and looked around. Not much had changed, apart from a few photos and different cushions.

Theo dropped down into one of the armchairs with a sigh. “So, what’s the plan, huh? What do you two want to do first? Tour the place? Hit the beach?”

Charles, who had been quiet while her brother handled the call, shifted his gaze to Y/n. The room felt oddly still for a moment, their shared gaze lingering longer than either of them expected.

Y/n, feeling the weight of the quiet, broke eye contact first and turned to glance at her brother. “Let him finish first, I guess. We’ve got time,” she said lightly, her voice carrying an undertone that belied how restless she felt beneath the surface.

Her brother spoke up, his voice clear despite the distance. “Alright, I’ll be done in a minute. Just trying to sort out a few things. You three get comfortable, help yourselves to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

Charles stood still for a second, the quiet of the moment pressing down on him, and for the first time since they had arrived, he felt the subtle tension that had built between him and Y/n. It was odd, this unspoken thing between them, as if the space in the room was filled with something more than just casual conversation.

He cleared his throat, trying to break the silence. “I’ll grab us a drink. You good with something, Y/n?”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, startled by his question. “Uh, yeah, sure. Water’s fine.”

“Water it is,” he replied, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

“I will take a coke, thank you,” Theo ordered and put up his thumb.

Charles sighed and made his way to the kitchen.

As he walked away, Y/n couldn’t help but glance at him again, watching how he moved so effortlessly. It was a quiet observation, nothing too obvious, but enough to make her heart race just a little. He had become more handsome than she remembered.

“So…” Laurent entered the living room again. He fell beside his little sister on the couch and looked at her. “Welcome back, Y/n/n.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and hugged her briefly. “It has been empty here without you.”

Y/n smiled, the familiar warmth of her brother’s presence comforting her. “It’s still home,” she said softly, glancing around the room. Her brother bought this place just before she left for Madrid. She helped him move, but that was all.

“Gonna make sure you’re spoiled during your stay. Got all your favourites lined up, too.”

“Love that.”

“I'm sorry I couldn’t pick you up, but there was a massive accident in Menton. I just arrived back home,” he apologised, feeling bad he couldn’t keep up his promise to pick her up.

“No worries,” she smiled. “It was an… interesting pick-up party.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Interesting how?”

Y/n chuckled, her eyes glancing over to where Charles and Theo had settled in the room. “Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting to be picked up by an F1 driver and a…,” she paused, looking at Theo with a teasing grin, “...professional passenger.”

Theo let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “I am not a professional passenger!” He threw his hands up dramatically. “I just prefer to let Charles take the wheel. It’s not my fault he’s too quick to get in and out of trouble.”

Charles, who had been quietly listening, snorted with laughter. “You’re one to talk. You’re just mad because I beat you in the car to Menton the other week.”

Y/n shot them both a playful look. “I’m just glad I’m still alive to tell the tale.”

Charles flashed her a grin. “See? No harm done.”

“Yeah, you say that now.” Y/n crossed her arms, smirking. “You almost gave me a heart attack. I was about to turn into an honorary member of the FIA with that kind of ride.”

Laurent, who was listening to the banter, snickered. “Things haven’t changed, I see. Still bickering like an old married couple.”

“Pff.”

“Shut up.”

“Old married couple,” Theo agreed and sipped from this drink.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “We’re not bickering. I’m just saying Charles could practice more with regular cars. Don’t think Monaco’s tight corners should be his only driving experience.”

Theo burst into laughter, slapping his knee. “Oh, she’s calling you out, Charles. You’ve been called out.”

Charles, trying to keep a straight face, replied, “Okay, okay, maybe I’ll take some tips from the passenger seat next time, just to ensure no one else gets traumatised.”

Y/n gave him a playful side-eye. “Good plan. We’ll be safer that way. I can teach you the tips and tricks.”

The moment was light and familiar—like old times when teasing each other was second nature. Still, as the laughter faded, Y/n couldn’t help but feel something shift in the room. It was subtle, but there was an undeniable weight to the space between her and Charles. Her smile softened as her eyes flicked briefly to him, and she noticed the way his gaze lingered on her before he quickly looked away, his expression unreadable.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313@blodwyn4u@sltwins@heart-trees

[guiltyidealist]

autistic kid gets to autistic bestie's house, is promptly insulted and beat up by several neurotypical teens, bestie's antagonistic brothers. Gets saved when their mom orders them away, then goes home as instructed by bestie's one (1) well-adjusted brother

that.. really hurt... Inside. Now. thanks 😊😁😄 you shouldn't let them pick on you like that! ... w..we were only playing...

[jinwoosbabyboo]

In My Little Black Dress

The LADS Men have seen you in your long flowing dresses, but there was something about the way you looked in this particular dress that hugged your curves ; showing off those legs that they dream about being in-between. Artist @/osk_purinnumee on twitter

‼️MDNI MDNI MDNI‼️

Zayne ♡

Storyline: He couldn't help himself after seeing you in that dress.

"Can you zip me up?" Such an innocent question.

Zayne sat frozen starring at you; his expression giving away nothing. His intense stare caused you to start second guessing whether or not you should wear this dress. "I can change"

"No!" He cleared his throat after his sudden outburst. "No you look beautiful" He stood from his seat on the bed raking his gaze over your body continuously as he circled around behind you. "Just ... perfect" His breath ghosted over your neck as he planted a soft kiss while his hands slowly zipped your dress up.

He spun you around, taking your hand and stepping back to admire you. "I love this dress on you" His voice as soft as silk. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies. "Thank you" you whispered back looking away to avoid his piercing gaze.

Before you knew it Zayne was leaning down placing the softest kiss on your lips. His kiss quickly grew hungry as he moved lower, grazing his teeth along your jaw and planting wet kisses down your neck.

"Zayne..." your voice nothing more than a breathy moan. "Hmm?"

"We ... we have to go the award ceremony starts in thirty minutes" He continued his assault on your neck littering kisses as his hands roamed your body. "I need you now" He couldn't help himself seeing the way that dress perfectly hugged your curves while propping his girls up just right.

He backed you against the wall before dropping to his knees and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You shot a hand out pushing his head back. "Zayne we can't we have to go"

His breath was ragged as he rubbed his nose against your already wet panties before looking up at you through his lashes. "Please" He begged; his breath ghosting over your pussy sending shivers up your spine.

You couldn't help but give in giving a subtle nod and soon after he pulled your panties to the side and took his time with a long languid lick before devouring you like a man starved.

Rafayel ♡

Storyline: No self-control when it comes to you. He has to have you now in the middle of his Art Exhibit.

Rafayel swore you were teasing him with the dress you decided to wear tonight for his latest Art Exhibit. He couldn't take his eyes off you; watching your hips sway and the way you pulled the hem down when it rose almost giving him a nice view of your ass.

He refused to let you leave his side. He was either holding your hand or wrapping his arms around you from behind. "You look so beautiful baby" He whispered in your ear as he slid his hands up and down the front of your dress. "We should get out of here, go somewhere less noisy"

"This is for you Rafayel we can't just leave" He pouted at your answer as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. "I don't like that answer" A quiet gasp left you as you felt him grind his hardening length against your ass.

"Rafayel!" You whisper-shouted whipping around to glare at him. As soon as your eyes met his you were shocked at how red his cheeks and ears were. You rolled your eyes and exhaled hard; looking around to make sure there were no prying eyes you turned back to Rafayel as a smile stretched across your face. "There's a private room-"

"I know ... I'll be quick .... I don't want to be, but I will be" He cut you off and swiftly tugged you out of the packed venue making his way to the back stairs. Rafayel yanked the private door open pulling you in slamming it behind the two of you and claiming your lips in a heated kiss.

His kiss was breathtaking; you gasped as you felt his hands bunch up your dress and quickly slip into your panties. Rafayel was incredibly skilled with his fingers. He dipped two fingers into you making you tremble as he massaged that spot. "Right there" you moaned between kisses; he moved to you neck as you threw your head back against the door in bliss. It didn't take him long to coax an orgasm out of you.

He smiled against your neck as he pulled his fingers out making you whine. He fumbled with his belt and zipper quickly pulling out his dick that stood hard & red. You were always shocked at how big Raf was it almost seemed like it wouldn't fit.

Not giving you time to catch your breath he slides his hand down your thigh lifting it up and hooking your leg over his hip as he sunk into you with an audible whimper. He lifted your other leg as well; you instinctively locked your legs around his waist as he pounded into you at a ferocious pace.

"Raf- ah!" He slaps his hand over your mouth. "Shhh you have to keep quiet beloved"

Xavier ♡

Storyline: Made it all the way to the Annual Hunters Ball (Yes I made it up get off me) never even made it out of the car.

Xavier had top tier self-control unless it came to you. The minute he saw you in that tailored gown with a slit to show a little leg he was a goner.

"One more just one more" Xavier whimpered against your soaked cunt. He was currently buried between your legs in the backseat of his car. Thank goodness his windows were tinted otherwise everyone would see you splayed out for him with tears running down your face.

"Xav I can't" You whimpered trying to push his head which only caused him to hold your thighs tighter and flick his tongue faster on your overstimulated clit. "You can do it cum on my face"

Such a dirty mouth for someone with such an innocent looking face. Those deep blue eyes gazing up at you watching your every reaction to his tongue had him so hard he could cut diamonds. You arched into his mouth feeling another orgasm crest letting out the sluttiest moan that didn't even sound like something that would come from you.

Xavier continued to lick and suck catching every drop as you came down from your high. Flattening his tongue so you could grind out the last bit of your orgasm before slumping against the door.

Xavier sat up freeing his painful hard-on from his freshly pressed slacks that were now ruined with his pre-cum. "You can't go in with stained pants"

"That Hunters Ball is the last thing on my mind right now" He said as he lined himself up running his tip through your slick before sinking into you slowly. He shivered as he sheathed himself in you inch by inch "Fuck you have heaven between your thighs babe"

Sylus ♡

Storyline: He has to keep one hand on you or .... maybe two fingers in you.

Sylus was doing great. He held his composure from the house all the way to the auction. Which wasn't easy watching your hips sway, ass bounce, and tits jiggle as you ran around putting on your last touches of makeup, jewelry, and redoing your hair twice because you didn't like how your edges looked with the first style.

The dress you had on left just barely enough for the imagination while simultaneously being classy. Sylus couldn't help but at least keep one hand on you.

Long tablecloths were draped over every table giving Sylus the perfect idea. You two sat at a table towards the back of the venue and as soon as the lights dimmed to begin the auction you felt Sylus hand slide up your left thigh. "I'm right handed Sylus my knife is on the other side" You whispered to him.

"I wasn't looking for your weapon Princess" He whispered as his hand inched towards the apex of your thighs. You took a sharp inhale as his fingers brushed against the lining of your panties. "You're already wet sweetie ... in a place like this? How scandalous" Your breathing became ragged as he slid your panties to the side and dipped two fingers into you. He stroked your G spot causing you to cover your mouth with your fist to keep from making noise.

"Sy-Sylus" You moaned as you leaned forward pretending to be interested in what the auctioneer was saying. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop"

He flattened his palm giving your clit more stimulation. "Then go ahead ... cum on my hand" He leaned over making it look as though he was just whispering in your ear when in reality he gave your ear lobe a soft nip before sucking it between his lips. That sent you right over the edge. Soft whimpers fell from your lips as you dripped all over his hand.

Sylus pulled his fingers out giving you a cheeky smirk before stirring his glass of whiskey with his fingers that you just came all over. "Now that's a one of a kind drink"

[sushiyuzu]

my turn

warning: fluff + comfort — it is finally your turn to return your devoted love and affection to soft!sylus 🤍

a/n: hi anon! many thanks for ur sweet words and request, i hope you enjoy <3

anon’s request / link: click here

hmm.

you’ve never seen sylus this quiet before.

you’ve always known sylus to be the confident one—the serious, bold, intimidating man who always seems to have everything under control. he’s the one who teases you with his smooth, elegant words, who pulls you close with a charming smile that makes your heart race. but today, you decide it’s your turn to change things up.

he’s sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book with that focused expression he gets when he’s deep into something. you take a moment to watch him, admiring his handsome face and the way his silver hair falls over his forehead. you’ve never seen him look so calm, so peaceful. a playful idea forms in your mind, and before you can second-guess it, you move closer.

you slip into his lap without warning, wrapping your arms around his neck. his eyes widen, his crimson gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“what are you doing?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, the usual edge of authority still there. you smile and lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“nothing,” you say softly, your lips brushing his skin. “just loving you.”

before he can respond, you kiss him again—this time on the other cheek, then on his jaw, your fingers threading through his silver hair. you can feel his body tense beneath you, his posture rigid like he’s not sure how to handle your sudden affection.

“you’re being... very forward,” he murmurs, his deep voice wavering slightly. clearly, he’s trying to keep his composure, but you can see the blush creeping up his cheeks, the way his eyes are flickering with uncertainty. it’s just so unlike him that it makes you giggle.

“i can’t help it,” you say, tightening your arms around him, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. “you’re just so handsome.” your voice is soft and sincere, and you watch as his confident mask slips just a little.

he swallows, his crimson eyes wide as he stares at you, clearly not used to you being this bold.

you decide to push him further, to see just how flustered you can make him. “i love you,” you whisper against his ear, your voice sweet and affectionate. you press a kiss to his temple, then his nose, then his lips. he freezes, his breath hitching, and you can feel the way his heartbeat racing against your chest.

“what has gotten into you?” sylus asks, his usual smooth tone cracking just a bit. he looks genuinely taken aback, his elegant words faltering as you continue to pepper his face with soft kisses. you giggle again, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his neck.

“just loving you,” you say again, more firmly this time.

“you always take care of me, so now it’s my turn to show you how much you mean to me.” you smile, your eyes shining with warmth, and he blinks at you like he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.

and that almost makes you burst out laughing.

keyword: almost.

“you’re... ridiculous,” he mutters, his voice low and unsteady, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—only a soft, shaky vulnerability. his hands settle on your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear. “you’re supposed to be the shy one, not me.”

you smile wider, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “maybe i’m tired of being shy,” you tease gently. “maybe i want you to be the one who blushes for once.”

his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s about to say something clever, but the words seem to catch in his throat. instead, he just stares at you, his crimson gaze searching your face, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep his usual composure. you feel a surge of affection for him—this strong, confident man who’s so easily undone by your love.

so you kiss him again, long and slow, your hands framing his face, your thumbs brushing over his high cheekbones. this time, he doesn’t resist. he melts into the kiss, his hands tightening on your waist, squeezing your flesh gently and you feel him shudder against you. when you finally pull back, his face is flushed, his breathing uneven, and he looks... shy. truly shy, like he’s never been before.

“you’re... unbelievable,” he says softly, his voice a little hoarse, his eyes half-lidded and warm. you can see the struggle in him—wanting to regain control, to be the calm and composed sylus that you know, but your gentle touches are making it impossible for him to act like his usual self.

and it drives him nervously crazy.

“so are you,” you reply, kissing his forehead. you can see him fighting the blush that’s spreading across his cheeks, his eyes glancing away like he’s embarrassed, and it makes your heart swell with warmth. you cup his face, guiding his gaze back to yours, and you can see the way he’s holding back a smile.

“you really are beautiful, you know that?” you say, your voice gentle and sincere. “i don’t tell you that enough.” you lean closer, pressing your lips to his ear. “you mean the world to me, sylus. i love you so much.”

you feel him tremble beneath you, his grip on your waist tightening, and you pull back just enough to see his expression—completely soft, completely open. he’s not trying to hide anymore, and there’s something incredibly sweet about seeing him this vulnerable, this undone by your love.

“you’re going to make me go insane,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, and there’s a rough, raw honesty in his tone that takes your breath away. he’s not used to being the one overwhelmed, but he’s not pushing you away, either. instead, he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a shaky breath.

“then let’s go insane together,” you say softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. he makes a soft sound, almost a whimper, and kisses you back—slow and deep and so full of emotion that it makes your heart skip a beat.

you pull away just enough to see his face—his eyes half-lidded, his cheeks a warm shade of pink, and his expression so soft it makes your chest ache.

“you don’t have to be perfect with me,” you whisper, brushing a strand of silver hair away from his forehead. “i love you just as you are.”

he’s quiet for a long moment, his gaze locked on yours, and then he smiles—a real, gentle smile that makes his ruby eyes shine. “i love you most, sweetie.” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, and you hug him tight, burying your face in his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you can feel the way he’s finally letting go of that careful, controlled exterior. he’s just sylus now—your sylus, the one who loves you with all his heart, who isn’t afraid to show you his softer side.

oh, he’s so in love.

only with you.

just you, forever.

while you’re lost in the warmth of his hug, you suddenly feel his lips touch your shoulder. there’s a small, teasing pause, and then he gently nibbles at your skin—a light bite that makes you shiver. you gasp quietly, your heart fluttering with surprise, but before you can even react, he follows it with a soft, gentle kiss, pressing his lips where he cutely bit you. the touch is warm and comforting, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“sylus,” you whisper his name, a little surprised but mostly filled with affection, and he laughs quietly, the sound low and sweet. he’s still holding you close, his breath warm against your neck, and you can feel that he’s smiling—like he’s happy to share this new, tender closeness with you.

and deep down, that makes you giddy.

“i couldn’t resist,” he says in a soft whisper, his voice gentle and playful in your ear. his tone still carries a hint of his usual confidence, but it’s softer now. his arms pull you even closer, and you can feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart as you lean against his chest.

“you’re just too tempting,” he adds, his lips brushing your shoulder again. you can’t help but laugh softly, holding him tighter, your arms wrapped around his neck. you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, feeling warmth spread through you—a feeling of love that fills every corner of your heart.

“and you,” you say softly, your voice full of love, “are absolutely perfect.”

he makes a quiet, happy sound, gently nuzzling his face into your neck. you can feel him smile against your skin, his warmth so close and comforting. his fingers start to trace gentle patterns on your back, moving slowly, and you can tell he’s calm and relaxed. his breathing slows, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and you feel safe and happy in his arms.

you stay like that, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, for a long time. the room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing, and it feels like the rest of the world has disappeared. his strong, big arms keep you close, and you can feel every bit of him—the warmth of his chest, the softness of his breath, the way he holds you like he never wants to let go.

you lift your head slightly, just enough to look into his sweet eyes. there’s something more softer in them now, something that’s just for you.

only for you.

you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips, slow and warm, and he kisses you back, his hand moving up to cradle your cheek. you feel his thumb gently brush your skin, and he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes half-closed and his face relaxed. he looks softer, more open than ever before, and it makes your heart ache with love.

you give him one more quick kiss on the tip of his nose, making him chuckle softly. he tightens his arms around you, holding you so close that you can feel the warmth of his body all around you.

“i love you,” you whisper, and you say it again, over and over, softly against his skin—each “i love you” gentle and full of emotion. he closes his eyes, listening, and you feel the way he relaxes even more, like each word you say fills him with warmth.

he lets out a quiet sigh, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, and you can feel him melt into your touch. his strong, protective exterior has softened, and you can see a slight blush on his cheeks, a sign that he’s a little overwhelmed by all the affection you’re giving him. but he doesn’t move away. he just stays right there, holding you tightly, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, soaking up every bit of your love.

you don’t let go either. instead, you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his warm breath fanning your skin while his fingers continue to gently stroke your back.

you’re both wrapped up in a safe, warm bubble where nothing else matters except the two of you, and you know that this—being with sylus, being this close—is all you’ll ever need. and you know, in that moment, that this is exactly where you belong—right here in his arms, loving him with all the warmth and affection he truly deserves.

[juleswritesstuff]

Pieces

Just Theo losing his mind over a tiny, little dress

theo nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut (this one's filthy, y'all)

The music blasting through the Slytherin common room was not only filling your ears, but your whole body too. It was running through your veins, every muscle and nerve consumed by the slow rhythm of the bass.

You were moving to the beat without a care in the world, lost in the flow, surrounded by warm bodies moving along the same melody.

Until a pair of hands found place on your hips, a presence making itself known behind you as your back collided with his chest.

You would've recognized that scent everywhere. A smirk grew on your lips.

Bingo.

“Are you trying to kill me, bambolina ?” his smooth voice reached your ears through the loud banging of some song you didn't quite recognize. (babydoll)

His hands were scorching hot on your hips, feeling them through the flimsy fabric of your dress. The way they wanted to touch, to feel, to own.

The grin on your lips widened.

Oh, he was so easy to tease.

You turned around, meeting his eyes. Their usual sky blue had become deeper, a storm in full swing. They were dark, hungry, and yet you could still find that glint of cockiness that never left his gaze.

Theodore Nott was as beautiful as he was devilish.

Good thing you knew how to take him. Metaphorically and physically speaking.

“Don't know what you're talking about” you said, swaying your hips to the sultry rhythm and morphing your expression to one of fake cluelessness.

“Really ? I'm pretty sure you do” the grin on his face was teasing but you could see the light clench of his jaw.

Trying to keep it cool, to keep control.

Unfortunately for him his eyes scanning every inch of your body betrayed him and his illusion of a collected behavior.

“You don't like my dress ?” you asked, getting closer and circling his neck with your arms.

His hands were on your back, traveling up and down, tracing your skin through the fabric, memorizing every nook and curve of your body.

A shiver ran down your spine as he pulled you closer to him, chest to chest.

“You have the nerve to ask me that ?” he uttered, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.

A chuckle left your lips.

“You sound so affronted, Nott” your hand slipped through his hair, combing them lightly while your bodies kept swaying to the music.

He closed his eyes in bliss, feeling your gentle fingers brush through his brown locks.

And then you pulled. A bit harsher, a bit rougher. Exactly how he liked it.

Theo groaned, his eyes snapping open as the grip on your hips became tighter. 

His forehead touched yours as he leaned closer and closer.

“Oh, you want to play with fire I see” he breathed mere inches away from your lips.

“Maybe I do” you grinned, your tone challenging.

“And what happened to ‘I wouldn't touch you even if you were the last man on earth’, dolcezza ?” he asked teasingly, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. (sweety)

Your cheeks warmed up the slightest bit.

Yes, you and Theo hadn’t started off in the best of ways.

But things changed.

Especially after the most completely unexpected and undoubtedly best fuck of your life, courtesy of a very heated arguement between the two of you that ended with him buried deep inside of you while you basically chanted his name like a prayer.

You wished you could say it was a one time thing, a mistake.

But it wasn’t.

Because soon you found out that no one made you feel better than him.

Your body craved his touch, you couldn't help it.

“Well, I didn't know the wonders that your mouth and your cock were capable of at the time, can you really blame me ?” you asked back, lifting an eyebrow.

“So that's why you chose the tiniest, sexiest dress you own ? Cause you wanted to get your guts rearranged ?” he teased with a shit-eating smirk.

“Who knows” you shrugged your shoulders as a smug smile grew on your lips.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You'll be the death of me, bambolina” he mouthed right on your lips before leaning in. (babydoll)

And, fuck, that felt both like heaven and hell.

His mouth was soft and rough at the same time. Hungry, needy, pure fire that was consuming you. The taste of nicotine and alcohol mixed with a sweetness that you couldn't quite pinpoint, but it was there. And it was addicting.

You wanted more. You always wanted more when Theo was involved.

His tongue teased yours, playing his dirty little games.

Your mind went blank.

“Your room or mine ?” you asked, millimeters away from his lips.

“Whichever is the closest, I don't care” he said hurriedly “Non vedo l'ora di strapparti questo cazzo di vestito di dosso” (I can't wait to rip this fucking dress off of you)

You didn't understand a single thing of the Italian coming out of his mouth as he was busy leaving a trail of eager kisses down your neck, going so slow that your brain started to melt.

You had no idea of how you managed to arrive at your dorm, too engrossed in the feeling of having him so close to you.

But now there you were.

The door closed with a click, and after a second you felt him everywhere.

His hands in your hair, on your face, your neck, hips, thighs. Fucking everywhere.

Your back collided with the wall as he kissed you like he needed air and you were pure oxygen filling his lungs.

“You’re a vixen, you know that ?” he whispered “making me lose my fucking mind moving your hips like that” 

His lips were still on yours, his hands kneading the plush skin of your ass, making you hiss in pleasure.

“Didn’t know I only needed a dress to make you go ballistic, Nott” you muttered with a chuckle as he decorated your throat with slow, wet kisses. 

“I couldn’t give less than a shit about the dress, Y/n. You are the one making me go fucking feral, not this stupid piece of fabric” he groaned against your skin.

“Then rip it the fuck off of me, why don’t you ?” you said, whimpers leaving your mouth as Theo found the most sensitive spot on your neck, starting to tease it with his tongue, his teeth and that sinful mouth of his.

You felt his smirk right on your skin.

“As you wish, bambolina”

 In a heartbeat you heard cloth being torn, shredded to pieces.

The air suddenly hitting your skin made goosebumps appear all over your body.

Your eyes snapped to his. The fire in them almost burned you, matching your own.

Lust and hunger filled every cell of your being, seeing the poor dress resting in pieces on the floor.

Because Theo had literally ripped it off.

You didn’t think this man could get any hotter. Guessed you were fucking wrong.

“Cazzo, sei una visione Y/n'' he whispered breathlessly. (Fuck, you're a vision Y/n)

His eyes ran all over your figure, taking in every curve, every inch of your body, imprinting it in his memory forever.

Then he began his journey of torture.

He started with his lips on yours, nibbling and sucking slowly, seductively, proceeding along your jaw, traveling down and reaching your neck, kissing the skin that was already turning a dark red from his previous attentions.

He stopped briefly at your shoulder, delicately removing your bra as the pads of his fingers brushed your skin tenderly.

He left his marks all over you.

On your shoulder, your collarbones, on your breasts teasing your sensitive nipples with his tongue before sucking gently, grazing them with his teeth and sending bolts of electricity throughout your entire body.

His lips were soft, but they left a burning path everywhere they touched.

Moans and whimpers left your mouth with each and every caress of his skin on yours.

He kept giving attention to every single centimeter of your figure, going down and down until he sank on his knees.

The sight of him kneeling in front of you with that deep, dark look in his eyes turned you on like nothing ever did before.

“This might be my favorite angle of you, you know ?” you confessed, your fingers combing through his brown waves.

You felt him grin against your hip bone, kissing it right after.

“Is it ?” his tone was teasing, playful, as he traced your skin with his lips “when I’m on my knees ?” another kiss lingered on your hip “right at your mercy ?” 

“Shit- yeah” you choked out a whimper as his mouth got closer and closer to your core.

The grip on his hair tightened and he let out a deep moan.

“Well, that’s good to know, princess” he said simply “cause this is my favorite place to be. Right between your thighs” and then he left a soft kiss directly on your clothed heat before sliding your panties down your legs.

A needy moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You're perfect. You're so fucking perfect” he whispered in awe, completely drunk on the sight of your naked body.

“Theo…” you whined.

“Yes, baby ?” 

Fuck, that word made your stomach churn in the best way possible.

“Just fucking get to it” you said urgently.

A cocky smile appeared on his face as he started to slowly get up, placing kisses here and there, making his journey back to your lips.

You whined, missing the feeling of his mouth lingering on your most sensitive spot.

“You’re needy” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

“You’re torturing me” you bit back, breathless and impertinent.

“Oh, so you can tease me in front of our whole House, but I can’t have my little fun when it’s just us ? Seems a bit unfair, tesoro” he mocked you lightheartedly with the most irritatingly hot smirk. (darling)

“Wipe that smug little smile off your face Nott, I can't stand it” you said, the annoyance in your tone as clear as the lust in it, too.

“Can’t stand it ?” he asked sensually, his breath tickling your ear before looking you in the eyes with that sinful grin that made you go feral “then why don’t you sit on it, bambolina” 

His gaze was dark, the blue of his eyes completely swallowed up by blackness.

The breath got knocked out of your lungs. Hot liquid desire filled your veins.

Your entire body was consumed by him, every single cell screaming his name.

And who were you not to listen ?

“Lay down then” you said with a devilish grin, pushing him backwards until his knees hit the bed frame, forcing him to sit down.

You wasted no time and straddled his hips, your naked body flashed aginst his still clothed one.

“Fucking hell” he mumbled on your mouth as you dived in to kiss him hungrily, tongue brushing his in a filthy dance.

His hands gripped your lower back so tightly you were sure there would’ve been bruises in the shape of his handprints the following day.

And you couldn’t wait to fucking see them.

 “Something wrong, pretty boy ?” you taunted, coating his neck with kisses, swiping your tongue over the skin and making him groan in pleasure.

“I have you naked on my lap, Y/n, nothing could be more right” he said, looking at you directly in the eyes with a smile and his usual cocky attitude.

“Why don’t you take off some clothes too, mh ?” you muttered, breaths away from his lips "Preferably all of them"

“Get rid of them, then” he answered you with a challenging glint in his deep blue eyes, and a sardonic smile.

You smirked, fisting both sides of his shirt and pulling harshly.

Buttons flew everywhere as you ripped the shirt open, finally exposing his perfectly chiseled chest to your eyes. Your hands ran all over his torso, tracing every hard and soft surface with fleeting touches.

God, Quidditch practice really had its benefits.

“Now we’re even” you said, kissing his lips again, referring to the dress he had shredded to pieces not too long ago.

Then your fingers traveled down, reaching the hem of his pants and brushing his half hard cock playfully through the fabric.

He hissed in pleasure, but as soon as you tried to unbutton them he stopped you.

“That can wait, baby. I need to taste you first” he purred in your ear before laying down completely, his back colliding with the soft mattress of your bed.

“Impatient, are we ?” you mocked him lightheartedly, but as soon as you felt his hands on lower back, massaging the soft skin, urging you to crawl on his body and come closer until your core was right in front of him, glistening with desire, the smile on your face was replaced by a moan.

“When it comes to you ? Always” he smiled, leaving a trail of steamy, open mouthed kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs.

A pathetic sob left your throat.

He was going so achingly slow you were starting to lose your goddamn mind.

“Seems to me that you’re taking your sweet fucking time, instead” you snapped impetuously.

He was teasing you mercilessly, and you couldn’t stand it.

“I’ll take all the time I need if it means that I get to see you being a needy mess before my tongue even touches you” he sneered against your skin, mouth getting closer and closer to where you needed it the most, but never close enough.

“Theo, please” you cried as your hands swiped through his brown locks, spread on the pillow like a halo, eliciting him to do something, anything to give you at least some sweet relief.

“Sei così bella, cazzo” he whispered as his eyes shined with an earnestness that you had never seen in them “e sei tutta per me”. (You're so beautiful, fuck)(and you're all mine)

And then finally, finally he stuck his tongue out dragging it over your folds to get a long awaited taste.

The groan that came out of his mouth sent delicious vibrations to your clit, making your whole body squirm.

“Oh fuck” you moaned as he started to devour you messily.

He ate you out like he had been starving for weeks and you were his first meal, like he was born for it and his place was right there, between your legs. He licked and kissed and sucked all over your sensitive core, pleasuring you like no one else ever could, making you feel everything.

You writhed above him. 

Loud, shaky whines left your lips as he made out with your cunt shamelessly and sloppy, coating his face with your essence and feasting hungrily.

When his lips wrapped around your clit you whailed.

The whole castle probably heared you even through the music of the party that was taking place downstairs, but you couldn’t care less.

Because Theo was beneath you, eating you out so perfectly and filthily that all you could think about was his mouth on you.

“So sweet. You taste so sweet, Y/n” he said right against your throbbing core, making you shiver. Your hands on his hair tightened their grip, using it as leverage to move your hips back and forth faster, desperately.

“Theo- shit, baby-” you couldn’t even talk.

You were close. You were so close that you felt the familiar tension building up, ready to explode.

And apparently he did too, because his mouth started to work faster, licking and lapping at an unforgiving pace.

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess on my face” he wrapped his lips around your clit one more time and he sucked, sending you over the edge.

The coil in your tummy snapped, your vision turning white as waves of pleasure washed all over you, making your ears ring and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

The moans coming out of your mouth were dirty, raw.

The movement of your hips slowed down as Theo kept dragging his tongue over your folds slowly, carefully, licking you clean and paying attention not to overstimulate you, but not letting even one single drop of your sweet essence go to waste.

Once you got down from your high and your brain started to regain its ability to form coherent words you shifted your gaze downwards, finding Theo looking at you while his hands caressed your legs tenderly.

“There you are. I thought I broke you for a second” he smiled, teasing lightheartedly.

You huffed a sneer as you crawled backwards with shaky legs, going back to straddle his hips rather than his face.

“Don't get too confident, Nott. It's not a good look” you bit back with a smile that matched his.

A chuckle left his lips as he lifted his torso to sit up, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

He kissed you softly, delicately, making your stomach flip.

“Everything ok ?” he asked on your lips while he tucked a rogue strand of hair behind your ear, stroking your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

And there it was, the thing that made you so confused about Theodore Nott.

It was in moments like these when you forgot that the guy in front of you, who gave you the best head of your life and was an actual fucking excellent lover was the same guy you used to have daily insulting sessions with.

Muggles had a saying, you heard.

‘There's a thin line between hate and love’

And you were sure that that line had been all kinds of blurry since Theo had put his lips on you for the first time.

Or, maybe, even before. You didn't want to think about it. 

The possibilities of that revelation being true made your stomach knot up.

So you put them to the side, and focused back on him.

“Yes” you answered, your fingers buried in the hair at the base of his neck, massaging reassuringly “I’m ok. More than ok, even” 

“How about your legs ?” he asked, placing soft kisses on your shoulder.

“Is this some new way to ask me if I still have some remaining strength to ride you ?” you teased, narrowing your eyes mischievously.

“Would you believe me if I said it isn't ?” he questioned playfully, lifting an eyebrow and tightening his embrace on you.

“Not really, no” you said unconvinced, your face opened up in a smile.

“Guessed so” he shook his head in amusement, his eyes glinting in the dim light of your room.

“Unfortunately for you my legs are sore, so no riding” you admitted, your smile turning smug “but that doesn't mean that you can't fuck me in any other position know to man”

His hands on your hips tightened their grip.

“Is that so ?” he taunted, his eyes turning hungry again, the fire in them reaching the deepest parts of your soul “then tell me bambolina, how would you like me to take you apart tonight ?” 

“However you want” you smirked, leaning in to kiss him again, swiping your tongue on his lower lip before biting the plump skin provocatively “go ahead pretty boy, make me cry on your cock”

His eyes got impossibly darker, hungrier. Ravenous.

“Then get on all fours for me, princess” he rumbled lowly, looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

You wasted no time as you kept your mouth glued to his, getting off his lap and flipping your positions. You crawled backwards a little, Theo following you as he chased your lips until you were completely laying down with him above you.

His hands caressed your hips, moving down to trace the skin of your thigh, making goosebumps appear all over your body.

Your fingers traveled everywhere, feeling the heated skin against your pads. They caressed his chest, his shoulders, his back, until they reached the hem of his pants, unbuttoning them with a swift move.

“Impatient, are we ?” he teased you, using your own words against you.

His lips latched to your neck, one hand on the mattress holding his weight and the other sliding his trousers down together with his underwear.

“Less talking and more undressing, Nott” you urged as your hands went to his hair, massaging his scalp, making him groan.

He pulled away from you just enough to take away his pants completely, leaving him naked.

Your eyes took in his perfectly sculpted lean body, and you clenched your legs unconsciously at the sight of his hard cock.

He didn't say anything to you eyeing him up like you wanted to swallow him whole, he just smirked. But the look in his eyes told you that he knew every naughty little thought you were having in that moment.

Your cheeks heated up, and you turned around facing the mattress propped up on your elbows, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you that flustered.

You had seen him naked countless times, and yet his body still had that maddening effect on you.

The bed dipped with every move he made, getting closer to you again, until you felt his breath on your ear, chuckling.

“Going shy on me now, tesoro ?” he asked playfully, leaving a kiss on that sensitive spot that made you squirm. (darling)

“Shut up” you said weakly, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth leaving a path of steamy kisses along your back, causing your whole body to shiver in pleasure.

He stopped right over the little dimples on your lower back, kissing them tenderly.

“Ready ?” he asked to make sure.

You didn't answer him, you just lifted your ass up, bending your knees and arching your back in the most sinful way you could master.

“Ready” you confirmed with a smug smile, hearing him groan in pleasure.

You turned your head a little, enough to see him stroking his cock at the sight of your exposed cunt, right at his mercy.

“You and your perfect body will be the death of me” you hear him whisper before feeling his hands on your ass.

His tip teasing your entrance made you moan pathetically.

He went slow, so achingly slow that you wanted to cry, feeling him burying himself deeper and deeper inside of you, inch by inch. Until he bottomed out completely, head to base, filling you up so good that you wanted to scream.

“Fuck-” you moaned “fuck, fuck, fuck” broken sobs left your lips as you felt him throbbing inside of you.

“Shit- baby, you're tight” he said through gritted teeth, feeling your warmth around him and trying so hard not to cum on the spot, hearing all the filthy sounds you were making.

“Move” you practically begged “Theo, please. Just move” 

As soon as the words left your mouth his hips started to thrust, setting a slow and steady pace, making you adjust to his size without hurting you.

The head of his cock brushed your cervix with every prod, sending bolts of electricity to every nerve of your body.

But it wasn't enough.

You wanted more. You needed more.

“Harder” you blurted, half begging and half demanding “I'm not gonna break, Theo. Fuck me. Harder” 

Not a word left his mouth, but suddenly you saw stars. His hips snapped ruthlessly inside of you, knocking the air out of your lungs, making you scream his name.

You buried your face in the pillows, trying to muffle the sound of your wails. But then you felt Theo’s chest colliding with your back and his arms around your torso, pulling your upper body up with him while he still fucked into you mercilessly.

“Voglio sentirti” he whispered in your ear, breath rugged and broken by the intensity of his hips plunging inside of you “voglio che l'intero cazzo di castello sappia chi è che ti scopa così bene” (I want to hear you)(I want the whole castle to know who's fucking you this good)

You didn't understand a single word coming out of his mouth, but you knew it had nothing to do with the language he was using and everything to do with his cock splitting you in half.

Your body was on fire, every muscle and nerve consumed by pleasure, corroded by lust.

You were close again.

Your arm reached behind you, pulling Theo’s head closer.

The position was awkward, making the kiss even more filthy, a mess of tongues and teeth.

“God- Theo, I'm close” you moaned against his mouth.

One hand holding your body flashed against his, the other going to tease your clit with slender fingers.

You were right there, his fingers drawing circles on that little bundle of nerves faster and faster.

“Cum for me, bambolina” was what he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your skin as your orgasm hit you.

The world stopped, every single thing ceased to exist except for the exploding pleasure in your veins and the feeling of Theo’s heated and sweaty skin on yours.

The clench of your cunt squeezing his cock sent him over the edge too, painting your walls white while a strangled moan escaped his lips.

Getting down from your high you collapsed on the bed.

With your breath labored and short, your body numb and your head in the clouds you placed your head on Theo's chest as his arm wrapped around you.

Was it weird to cuddle with the guy who used to get on your nerves more than anything else ? Most definitely.

Was it also weird to fuck said guy and wanting to sometime still punch his ridiculously handsome face at the same time ? Absolutely.

Did you care ? Not one bit.

“You owe me a shirt” he blurted out after his breath turned back to normal again, stroking your hair absent-mindedly.

“You owe me a dress” you retorted back, feeling his heartbeat slowing down right under your ear.

“Shopping at Hogsmeade next weekend ?” he asked nonchalantly, like he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.

Your eyes widened beyond measure.

“Pardon ?” your voice went several tones higher than usual, in complete disbelief from the words that had just reached your ears.

“Calm down, bambolina. No need to get all flustered” he chuckled, but rather than mocking it seemed endeared “you'll buy me a new shirt and I'll buy you a new dress. Deal ?” 

You had no idea what to answer.

But in the end you accepted.

“Deal” 

It wouldn't be weird...right ?

He lives in my mind rent free, I can't help it.

Hope you enjoyed 💗

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - request angst 3/3 (4?)

"Where is she?"

"She took Orion home so they could both get some rest. They'll be back in the morning." He stares at the wall, picks a small spot, lines it up like he's looking through a scope. He doesn't look at Price, can't acknowledge whatever he'll find there. Pity, concern, worry. "It was an accident, Simon. She knows that, we all do."

"I want to be alone."

"Simon-"

"Captain. We're in a civilian hospital, and I want to be alone." It's meant as a reminder. They're not at work. They're not in the field. There's no rank in this room right now, only friends, and he doesn't want to be around friends right now. He doesn't want to be around anyone except for you, and his son, but you're not here because of something he did. He did this. This is his fault. Again.

Nothing makes sense. He can't even remember it, he's not sure he wants to. The look on your face when he woke up and you were plastered to the wall across the room told him everything. He hurt you. He frightened you. His wife. His everything. Terrorized by a monster, a circle unbroken.

The snake truly does eat itself.

The idea of hurting you boils the acid in his stomach, bringing it up his throat and into his mouth, before it rushes out violently onto the blankets covering his lap.

He doesn't call for a nurse to clean it up. He just sits there, head tipped back against the bed, medicine pulling him under again.

"There's your dad, huh? Is that your dad?" Kyle bounces Orion before placing him in Simon's outstretched arms.

"Hey, little man," he looks him over, cataloguing all the changes, the growth, the way his eyes track Simon's movements, his smile. "You're so big now." His voice cracks. Kyle gives him a nod, and then steps out.

Orion babbles, grunts and coos stringing together as he pushes himself up and down on Simon's chest. It hurts, but he swallows it down in favor of holding his son. "Where's your mama? Is she here?" Why didn't you come? Why didn't you bring him? Even though he knows the answers, the questions still linger.

He wants his family. His whole family. The only thing he's clung to for months and months, his moon and star. The only light in the dark.

His heart aches.

The next time his door opens, it's dark. The nurse slips out, light turned down in his room, and he's startled from his sleep, catching the outline of someone curled up in the recliner to the left of the bed, closer to the window.

It's you. You're asleep, legs kicked over the side, blanket twisted in your lap. You're knocked into the side of the chair, cheek flush with the fabric. You're bone weary, lips parted, hair free.

You're here. You came.

Selfishly, he wants to wake you. Wants to crawl out of this bed to sit at your feet, on his knees, his head in your lap, begging for forgiveness.

He stares at you. Soaking in every quiet second, every expression painted onto your sleeping face, every twitch, every quiver. Hours pass, and his eyes almost close-

when yours open.

He whispers your name.

"Hey." You tuck your knees close. Defensive posture. The thought strikes a burst of pain through him.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes hoarsely, and you nod.

“I know. It’s not… you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I still did it.”

“Simon…” your sigh is heavy, sad, and he gulps for air, fear freezing through him.

“Will you… can you sit over here?” He nods to chair directly at his bedside, the smaller one, and you swallow. “Please. I can’t see you that well. I want to see you.” He’s so fucking weak for you, it’s almost unbelievable, holding his breath until you’re settled beside him, close enough he can see the tears in your eyes. “I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks. “You don’t know how sorry I am, I’d never, never hurt you. I’d die for you, mama. Without a second thought.”

“I know.” Your voice trembles, and tears roll down your cheeks. He wants to reach for you, pull you into his arms, but he doesn’t know if you’d want him to. If you’ll ever want him to again.

“I love you.” You nod, thumb rolling over the sapphire on your finger.

You don’t say it back, eyes dropping to the floor. “Your doctor says you can come home at the end of the week.” Come home.

“Do you want…” your head snaps up, alarmed.

“Of course I want you to come home. I… I just…” you rub your chest. He wants to melt into this mattress and disappear inside it.

“Are you hurt? Sore?” You shake your head.

“No I just… can’t stop seeing it.” Your head droops, hiding your face, and he holds his breath as your shoulders start to shake. “I’m sorry, I should’ve known better… I k-know well enough when you’re having a nightmare, I messed up, I-.”

“No, honey. You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were there for me, an’ I hurt you. I messed up, not you. Do you understand?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice is tear stained, soaked.

It’s a risk, but he reaches for you. A hand hovering in the air, waiting. Hoping.

You wipe your cheeks, and then fold his fingers into his.

He gives you a squeeze. “It’s not your fault, okay?”

“Okay.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Misunderstandings pt. 2 || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sofia knew what she was doing when mentioning Rafe to you, and she also knew what she was doing when she told you that he never mentioned you, his girlfriend.

Warnings: smoking, swearing, reader is sorta petty buts it’s whtvr

Word count: 1,486

A/n: I’m so glad everyone liked misunderstandings!!!!! PART 1 IS HERE

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

“Don’t have to act like you didn’t see us, bitch,” you mumble under your breath, the rim of your champagne glass grazing your lips before you take a sip.

“Play nice, babe,” you hear Rafe mumble against the side of your head, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. You shoot him a sideways glance, a silent “really?” written all over your expression.

Rafe chuckles softly, his hand tightening slightly around your waist as he leans in closer. “Just don’t want you all worked up over some girl that I couldn’t care less about” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, a stark contrast to the tension brewing in the air.

As you turn your attention back to Sofia, you can’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at her blatant disregard. You’ve been discreetly observing Sofia working behind the bar, and you’re certain she caught sight of you and Rafe lounging on one of the many couches around the island club.

“Has she spoken to you at all after what happened?” Jada raises an eyebrow at you, her gaze flickering towards Sofia behind the bar.

You glance at Sofia, noting her deliberate avoidance of your gaze, her eyes fixed on her task with a determined focus. “No,” you reply, frustration seeping into your voice. “She’s been avoiding me, but not Rafe.”

Rafe’s thumb rubs comforting circles on your clothed hip, a silent reassurance amidst the tension. You let out a scoff, feeling a surge of indignation at Sofia’s audacity.

“The nerve,” Jada says, shaking her head in disbelief before swiftly changing the topic, a subtle cue to steer the conversation away from the brewing conflict.

After about 20 minutes, Rafe pulls you in close, his arm snug around your waist, his breath warm against your ear. “Just gonna have a smoke with the guys, yeah? We’ll be out on the porch,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

You nod, feeling a mix of contentment and a slight reluctance to let him go. “Okay, don’t be too long,” you say, giving him a soft smile.

As Rafe stands and makes his way towards the porch, your eyes inadvertently drift to Sofia. She’s watching him, her gaze following his every move with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. Her expression is a mix of longing and bitterness.

But you push the unease aside, knowing that you trust Rafe completely. After the lies Sofia spread, he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. You turn back to Jada, who’s still chatting about the new shop downtown, and try to focus on the conversation.

Outside, you catch a glimpse of Rafe through the window, laughing with his friends, the smoke from his cigarette curling into the night air. He glances back at you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment. He gives you a reassuring smile as you return it.

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Jada gets up, as you turn back to her and hum in response, nodding. “Sure, let’s go.” You and Jada take a few minutes to touch up your makeup, sharing a laugh over the ridiculousness of some of the party guests.

As you finish applying your lipgloss, you give yourself one last glance in the mirror. “Ready?” you ask, turning to Jada. “Yeah,” she replies with a grin.

You both exit the bathroom, the noise and energy of the party hitting you once again. As you step back into the main room, your eyes instinctively drift towards the porch where you last saw Rafe, only to find it empty. A flicker of unease tugs at your gut, but you quickly push it aside. Rafe is probably just inside, chatting with someone or grabbing another drink.

“Where’s Rafe?” Jada asks, following your gaze to the now-empty porch. “I’m not sure,” you reply, scanning the room. “He was out there with the guys a few minutes ago. Jada shrugs, not too concerned. “He’s probably just inside somewhere. This place is huge.”

You nod, trying to shake off the slight worry that’s creeping in. You make your way through the crowd, Jada by your side, searching for any sign of Rafe. As you navigate the sea of faces, you catch snippets of conversations, the music thumping in the background.

Finally, you spot him near the bar, engaged in a conversation with Topper and a few other friends. Relief washes over you as you see him laughing and looking relaxed. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice Sofia lingering nearby, her eyes fixed on Rafe.

“You’re joking,” you say, lightly gripping Jada’s forearm to get her attention. She glances at you, then follows your gaze. “Does she not get the hint?” Jada’s jaw drops as the two of you watch from afar.

Sofia is leaning in closer than necessary, her laugh overly animated as she attempts to draw Rafe’s attention. Your grip tightens slightly on Jada’s arm, irritation bubbling up inside you. Jada shakes her head in disbelief. “Some people just don’t know when to give up.”

Okay, well she doesn’t seem to be walking to him—” Jada starts, but as if on cue, Sofia begins making her way toward Rafe. “—I spoke too soon—”

Without letting Jada finish, you push through the crowd to get to the bar. “Y/N—wait!” you hear Jada call out, but her voice fades into the background as you focus on reaching Rafe before Sofia does.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you weave through the throng of partygoers, the pulsating music and laughter blurring into a distant hum. Your eyes remain fixed on Rafe, who’s seated at the bar, oblivious to Sofia’s determined approach.

Just as Sofia reaches him, you slip in between them, placing yourself firmly on Rafe’s lap. “Hey, babe,” you say, wrapping an arm around his neck and leaning in close. “Missed you.” You lock lips with him, making sure to make direct eye contact with Sofia.

Rafe responds immediately, his arms encircling you and pulling you closer. The kiss is more than just a greeting; it’s a clear message. When you finally pull back, you keep your eyes locked on Sofia, her face contorted in embarrassment and disbelief.

“Oh, hi y/n. Didn’t see you there,” Sofia says, her voice dripping with insincere sweetness. “Clearly,” you reply, a steely edge in your voice. You glance at Rafe, who is looking at you with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Rafe litters a trail of kisses along your jaw, each one sending a warm shiver down your spine. His touch is reassuring and possessive, grounding you in the moment. As you continue to stare at Sofia with a smile, you feel a surge of confidence.

“How’s work, Sof?” you ask, your tone sweet but laced with unmistakable sarcasm. “Are you familiarising yourself around here? Y’know, getting in between relationships, that sort of thing.” You rest your chin on your knuckle, maintaining your smile as you watch her shift uncomfortably under your gaze

Sofia’s eyes dart nervously between you and Rafe, her forced smile faltering. “I… I’ve been busy,” she stammers, clearly caught off guard by your directness. “Just trying to get to know everyone.”

Rafe’s kisses travel from your jaw to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Sounds like she’s been getting to know people a little too well,” he murmurs against your ear, his voice low and protective. The sensation sends a thrill through you, and you can’t help but smile wider at Sofia’s discomfort

“Well, maybe focus on making friends with people who aren’t clearly happy in their relationship,” you suggest, your smile never wavering. Rafe’s hand tightens around your waist, and he looks at Sofia with a mixture of amusement and warning. “Yeah, we’re good here,” he says, his voice firm.

You slide off Rafe’s lap, feeling his hands gently readjusting the top of your dress as you smile at him gratefully. “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Sofia. See you around the country club, yeah?” You wave at her, your tone polite but tinged with a hint of superiority.

Sofia watches you leave, her expression unreadable, before offering a strained smile in return. “Yeah, see you around,” she replies, her voice tight.

With Rafe’s hand resting on the small of your back, you lead him away from Sofia, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the way you handled the situation. As you walk back to the others, Rafe’s arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Everything okay?” he murmurs, his voice filled with concern. You nod, leaning into his touch. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night.”

[charliemwrites]

Hiiiii! So I’m not super thrilled with this but I’ve been having a time of it at work so I worked on this when I could 🙃

Not sure if there will be a second part yet tbh we’ll see!

Edit: almost forgot to add that the gorgeous divider below is by @gildui they have some absolutely beautiful cod themed dividers.

Carrion

Reader comes back Wrong

Content: implied/referenced torture, injury, suicide reference/implicated “pact” (by background character), lack of wound care

The breakup was bad.

Not in the top 3 of Simon’s worst nightmare-inducing memories - but likely top 5. He certainly wakes up chest aching and eyes burning often enough for it to be a solid contender. He’s haunted by tears that dripped like acid and the cracks in your voice deafening him.

On bad days, he thinks he can still see you shuffling down the halls, eyes sunken and red-rimmed, dark circles and chapped lips. Anger giving way to resignation giving way to pain and sadness. The rest of the team tight-lipped and wincing, no sides taken, shoulders and ears offered equally in commiseration.

Your misery wanted no company, though.

You didn’t tell Simon that you were leaving. Gaz let slip over a subdued but obligatory game of cards, you’d be gone for a long time - loaned out to Laswell.

Simon didn’t go to see you off. Didn’t ask why you were leaving or accuse you of being too immature to be on a team with him. He didn’t wish you good luck, stay safe with the rest of the team on the tarmac at 0-dark when you took off.

He should have.

Price says you’ll be gone for six months. Just six. It’s better this way, he reminds them when Johnny balks. His eyes are on Simon, though, when he adds that you need to get your head on straight, and you weren’t able to do it with them.

So. Six months.

Simon stops expecting you on his left. Stops smelling your shampoo lingering on bits of clothes he pretended not to notice you steal. He still dreams about you begging him not to push you away.

183 days come and go.

On day 184, Laswell sends word - your temporary team likes you quite a bit. They want you to stay on for one more month… one more mission… one more…

Six months turns to ten.

312 days since you left; since you were home.

The team hasn’t stopped leaving a space for you at their tables, right between Gaz and Price. You miss your own birthday. Laswell says she’ll pass along well wishes.

The situation changes. A target resurfaces. All hands on deck, including yours.

374 days. Twelve months and some change.

They don’t spend the holidays with you, but there’s a stack of presents waiting in Price’s office. Your mugs have collected dust in the back of the rec room cabinet.

Laswell says you’re still deployed on one last mission, return TBD. Soon, though.

487 days. Still TBD. Soon. Really. Just some loose ends to tie up.

561 days. There was some trouble during exfil but you’re alright. Just a bit of recovery.

You’re coming home.

590 days. You’ll land at 0700 tomorrow.

It’s been 591 days since Simon last saw you. Since any of them last saw you.

Laswell has come to deliver you personally, a kind of apology for keeping you away so long. She’s the first off the transport and you’re right behind her.

Your hair is shorter. Much, much shorter. There’s a new patch on your jacket - memento from your temporary team, Simon figures.

Apart from that, you look… almost exactly how you did when you left. Dark circles under your eyes, mouth drawn and tight. There’s invisible weight compressing your shoulders, urging them in and down. But you’re there again. Just the way he remembers.

(Why are you the way he remembers?)

“Long time, no see,” Gaz calls, reaching for you.

There’s half a beat, you blink. Hesitate.

Then you grin and reach back.

“Missed my pretty face, did you?” you reply.

Johnny laughs and brings you in for a hug. You twitch hug him back, patting his shoulder as you pull away.

“Good to have you back, Sergeant,” Price says, shaking your hand.

You turn to Simon, nod in greeting, expression pleasant. “Ghost.”

So that’s how it’ll be? Alright.

“Sergeant.”

That night, you go out for drinks with the team and Laswell. Simon goes along to show there are no hard feelings.

(Not that you seem to need reassurance. It’s not even that you’re not looking at him. You are. Whenever he speaks, the rare times he does, or if he shifts in his seat. Your gaze doesn’t linger or jerk away, you treat him like you do Johnny and Gaz and Price.)

When Johnny mixes up your usual for Price’s, you don’t even seem to notice. But Simon does.

“When did you start drinking whiskey?” he wonders.

You used to swear you’d never like it, claiming it tasted like boot polish and the “Boys Club” wasn’t worth the indigestion it gave you.

“Someone from my other team,” you say by way of explanation.

You don’t ask for another whiskey. Laswell gets the rest of your drinks for that night.

Simon turns into the rec room two days later and finds you already there. There’s only the light above the sink on, and you’re staring at the steady drip, drip, drip from the faucet. A cup of black coffee cools in your hand. You’re already wearing gloves.

“Sugar’s in the left now,” he calls.

Your head twitches, something pops in your neck.

“Oh, thanks,” you chirp, turning for the cabinet. “Sleep okay, LT?”

“‘Bout as well as I ever do,” he replies gruffly, sidling up next to you for the kettle.

You hum. There’s a yellow packet in your hand. (Didn’t you used to like the blue one?)

“I get that,” you sympathize.

He snorts. Since when?

“Do you?”

When he glances down, you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re trying (and failing) to get the sink to stop dripping.

“You know that’s been broken for ages,” he says.

At least as long as the 141 has been around. You tried to fix it once when you first joined up, too, with no luck.

“Right,” you say. A little too quickly, a little too agreeably. “Well, anyway, enjoy your tea, Lieutenant.”

You leave the packet of sugar behind. Unopened.

You’re back and it’s like it used to be - not just before you left, but before the breakup. Before there was ever anything to break up.

Your time away seems to have given you whatever space from Simon you were hoping for, because you act like there was never anything at all.

He’s half expecting, dreading, that you’ll pull him aside at some point. Ask for a word after dinner, or swing by his room before bed. Talk about the break up now that cooler heads prevail and 19 months have sanded down the rough feelings. Seek closure, maybe.

But you don’t. The weeks pass until a month has gone and you never exchange more than easy pleasantries with Simon. You give him space, give him privacy. Things you never used to give him much of before, for better or worse.

You fool around with Gaz and Johnny, trade quips with Price, and follow Simon’s orders. Train recruits. Write reports.

You’re back, better than ever.

So why does it feel like Simon’s still waiting for you to return?

You’re always dressed now, head to toe. Day or night, rain or shine. From the neck down you’re in full sleeves, long pants, boots and gloves.

It doesn’t occur to anyone until you’re sweating through your compression shirt in the gym. Wipe your shiny forehead for the dozenth time before Johnny says, “why not just take it off?”

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh, waving him off.

When you lie down to bench press, Simon notes the bottom of your shirt tucked tight into your waistband. He exchanges a glance with Johnny - he’s seen it too.

You used to dress in shorts and sports bras during exercise, a towel over your shoulder. In the common room, you’d mill in tank-tops and boxers. Even used to trot down the hall swaddled in a towel or robe, mumbling that you forgot a razor or some other toiletry before showering.

“What, did ye get an embarrassing tattoo or somethin’?” Johnny asks finally.

You blink at him, expression bemused. “A tattoo? Why do you think I have a tattoo?”

“Yer covered up like a nun on Sunday. It cannae be comfortable.”

You snort. “Just because you’re allergic to clothes, MacTavish…”

“Allergic?! Wha’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?!”

Gaz barks a laugh. You grin and continue your workout.

Simon tries not to be disturbed by the name “MacTavish” coming off your tongue for the first time since you met.

It’s your first mission since you’ve been back. You have new gear, a new handgun. Something’s been carved into the side of the barrel in Cyrillic, Simon can’t read it. A new callsign.

(“What kind of a name is Carry-on?” Johnny teases, but he doesn’t quite hide the unease in his eyes.

You snort and lace your boots tighter. The edge of you sleeve inches up, revealing the curve of a glossy scar that wasn’t there before.

“You’re one to talk Mister Maybelline.”)

Someone painted an upside down cross on the temple of your helmet with their finger. You thumb it before stuffing it over your head.

“You ready for this?” Gaz asks, knocking his knee into yours. The two of you have been paired together for this mission. (Was it Simon’s imagination, or did you look annoyed that you would have a partner?)

“Always,” you reply.

Simon doesn’t hear what happens, but Gaz looks shellshocked when you haul him into the helicopter during exfil. You shake him a bit once everything is secure and the bird’s in the air.

“Garrick,” you shout, “c’mon, where did he get you?”

It takes him a second but he blinks, offers his arm for your inspection. You move with a speed even Simon is impressed by, tearing into the nearby med kit almost viciously. Gaz is patched up in record time and you sit back with blood on your hands, barely even seem to notice as you wipe them carelessly on your pants.

(You used to be more squeamish, weren’t you? You used to be the last one they asked for medical care because seeing your teammates in pain made you nauseous.)

“What about you?” Gaz asks after a small eternity.

You yawn. “What about me?”

“You got nicked too, didn’t you?”

Simon takes a second look at you and now that Gaz mentions it, you’re soaked in blood. Wet patches on your vest, your pants, dripping down your boots. It takes him a moment to notice the tear in your thigh, shredded flesh visible when you rock with the wind turbulence.

“Did I?” you wonder, glancing down like you only just noticed it.

Johnny curses, reaches for you - but you wave him off.

“It’s just a scratch,” you reply. “Barely even feel it, no worries.”

Then why is it still bleeding?

When the team lands, you hop off the heli without so much as a wince. Droplets of blood lead all the way back to your room.

(When Simon asks Nikolai about the hand-etching on your gun, he says the word means “promise.”)

In the after-action report, your callsign isn’t “Carry-On.” It’s Carrion.

Laswell takes you off the mission two months later, a joint assignment with KorTac. They send three operators to work with TF141 - Stiletto, Konig, and Nikto.

On the transport to infil, Simon notices the Russian inspecting his handgun in a seat separated from the rest of the squad. He recognizes the Cyrillic carved into the barrel this time: Promise.

It’s an eerie, creeping suspicion. An anxious fog rolling in.

It’s not one single thing that trips an alarm in Simon’s head, but a steady collation of oddities over months. A single arhythmic beat, a note off key. Just once or twice, but over and over until he can’t notice anything else.

You act just like yourself except for all the minute ways you don’t.

You smile big and wide, sunshine bright, when they make a good joke. Your laugh is still the same, bubbling up in your throat, head thrown back. You smell the same when you pass Simon in the hall, shampoo and soap that’s haunted him for a year and a half.

It’s insidiously subtle; he can’t pinpoint what it is for the longest time. Your mannerisms are almost too practiced, the cadence of your voice too measured. A missing turn of phrase you often used, replaced by something unfamiliar.

Simon dismisses it as guilt-laden paranoia. The two of you ended on bad terms with a year and half worth of space between. He’s hardly one to gauge what’s normal for you anymore.

And besides, the few times someone else has noticed at those tiny yet all-too-obvious inconsistencies, you shrug it off as something you picked up while away.

But he catches Johnny’s brows furrow one afternoon as you light up a cig (after swearing for years that you’d never pick up the habit) and Simon knows he’s beginning to see it too.

“You ever notice,” Gaz begins slowly. You’re the only one missing from the rec room this evening, retired with a drawn-out yawn. “That Carrion always mentions being away, but never talks about it?”

Simon stills. Johnny’s eyes fly to Price, who’s grimly tapping at his crossword puzzle.

“The file’s redacted,” he says. He’s seen it too then, tried to investigate for himself.

“That’s normal for a mission like that,” Simon reasons carefully.

“I don’t mean the mission,” Price says. “I mean Carrion’s file.”

“This is a good movie,” you mumble from the armchair you’ve stolen from Price. “What’s it called?”

Simon exchanges glances with the rest of the team. No one points out that this is (used to be?) your favorite.

Price looks into the team you were loaned out to. All were KIA or remain MIA. All but one. His file has been scrubbed too, the only documents readable are discharge orders and a PMC contract, both associated with the callsign “Nikto.”

They’re running out of time.

Less than 36 hours on the clock with only one lead, and it’s a zealot with a suicide pact. Price and Laswell both took a crack at him with nothing to show for it. Even Ghost has gotten hardly anything and he’s running out of nails. With time, he might get something useful, but they don’t have much of that left.

In the anteroom looking into interrogation, you’ve been observing through the one-way glass with your hands in your pockets, head tilted, expression serene.

Price and Laswell are discussing strategy, contingencies. Gaz and Johnny are throwing in their two cents, but Simon… Simon is watching you.

Like medical, torture used to be your Achilles. You were trained like the rest of the team, but there was never any need for you to step into the room yourself. Hell, you were a last resort even for observation or emergency resuscitation. No one blamed you for having a weak stomach for information extraction.

But today, you glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Laswell.

“I’ll handle it,” you say with an air of finality.

The room goes silent. Price opens his mouth, but it’s Laswell that speaks, voice hard with resignation.

“Do it.”

You don’t blink. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walk out the door without a backwards glance, shoulders loose but each step steady and purposeful.

“What the hell is going on, Kate?” Price demands.

Kate sighs, looks away as you enter the interrogation room.

“Let’s do this outside. It won’t take long to get that intel.”

The only thing she’s able to share is that you and your team were captured. For a long time. And then you’re already stepping out of the interrogation room, wiping your bloodied hands off on an old rag.

There’s an unusual glint in your eye, an unnatural stillness in your expression.

“Got what we need,” you announce cheerfully.

[parkerpeter24]

quiet temptations

pairing ➳ tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

word count ➳ 2.3k

warnings ➳ SMUT. characters are 18+ and MINORS DNI. this contains depictions of fingering, oral (m recieving). fluff, peter being sweet but also horny-

summary ➳ you’re awfully quiet but peter can’t seem to take that.

“is everything alright?” peter mumbled as he laid beside you. your back was to him, his arm wrapped around you, “you’re not talking.”

the bed you were laying on was warm, a thin blanket over the sheets because you got extra cold during the winters and a quilt that covered you and peter both. your fingers danced against the wall adjacent to the bed, feeling the cold plaster contrasting peter’s own fingertips that danced on your waist, under your sweatshirt.

“you gonna talk?” he placed a kiss on your hair that was loosely tucked behind your ear, making it fall over your eyes. chuckling when he heard you groan and push the lock of hair back in its original place, “so.. no?”

you sighed softly.

“that’s alright.” peter responded, feeling as if he was just talking to himself now, “we don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

the sound of your hum was accompanied by peter’s hand gliding under your sweatshirt and caressing your stomach. he was careful, as if you were made up of glass, watching out for any signs of refusal on your face but your features looked solemn, unchanging.

he sighed, not being able to hold in his concern, “alright, just nod if everything is okay…”

he waited for you and surely you did nod after a few seconds, making peter’s worries dissipate.

“what’s gotten you so quiet?” he tried to get you to talk, his fingers taking a detour from trailing upwards, making contact with the elastic hem of your sweatpants– which originally belonged to him, “‘cause one way or another, i’m gonna hear that pretty voice.”

you felt your face heat up but peter still didn’t notice any change in your expression. if he couldn’t see the blinking of your eyes and sense changing breathing pattern, he’d have assumed you were asleep.

“at least tell me you want this.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing his lips against your exposed skin.

“yeah.” you mumbled and peter wasted no time in sliding his hand under the fabric of your lower, arm holding your body against him. you let out a soft breath as his fingers travelled lower. his middle finger slid your panties to the side before making contact with the skin. he pressed soft kisses to your neck before his nimble finger delved into your folds.

a leg pressed between both of yours, parting your thighs as he nestled a warm hand against your sex.

you let out a soft sound, clutching onto the quilt. his finger sank deeper until he found the earliest bit of your arousal and pulled it out, wanting to spread the wetness everywhere.

his finger travelled up to your clit, circling around it and you bit your lip when he fucked it back into you, knuckle deep. he groaned softly, loving the way your muscles almost clenched his finger.

he repeated his actions a few more times until you couldn’t hold back the soft needy moans that he beyond waited to hear. you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your neck before he sucked that spot, soothing the sting from the bite.

you moaned when he curled his finger, trying to search for a spot that would make your sounds louder. his finger dipped into you inch by inch every time, showing he was in no hurry.

peter’s arm was strongly keeping you pressed against himself as you started to arch your back. he could tell you were getting needy but he wished to hear something from you– even though he was loving the musical moans you were letting out.

he pressed his ring finger into the mix, adding it when he pumped them into you the next time. his face pressed further into your hair when you tried to get away. he could tell you needed more– you were writhing, trying to grind your hips into his already hard cock– but he kept going at the slowest pace he could. one brush of his fingers against your most intimate spot and your lips parted in a loud gasp.

you tried to arch your back which only led to peter’s arm pressing harder against your abdomen. his lips were pressed together, letting out soft hums which accompanied each one of your moans as if encouraging you.

he pulled out both his fingers, fucking in again and then back out and in again until it became a faster rhythm. squelching sounds filled the mostly silent room as his leg parted yours even further.

peter rolled his fingers into you continuously, the heel of his palm nudging against your clit which had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “pete-” you gasped, “m-more.”

the desperation in your voice made peter grind into your ass. his fingers fucked you faster, holding your legs apart, curling them into you just right until you were jutting your hips, chasing your high.

“good girl.” peter mumbled, “keep it up, baby.”

his fingers moved continuously in and out of you. he could tell you were close with the way you clenched his fingers, however before the coil in your abdomen burst, his fingers pulled out of you, a soft wet sound following it– completely opposite to the loud whine that left your mouth.

“oh my god- why’d you stop?!”

“now you wanna talk?” he mumbled into your hair.

you felt your cheeks heating up further than they were. you hid your face into the pillow, but peter wasn’t letting that happen. he tugged at your chin with his free hand, “oh, baby. trust me, i want you to cum.”

you whined, biting your lip softly at his dirty words. you wondered if peter came prepared for this because no other day would you have expected such filthy words escaping his lips. he’d never done so before in all the times you two were intimate.

he turned you around gently, slowly pressing his forehead against yours as he brought up his fingers to his own lips, sucking them clean. he moaned at the taste as his tongue swirled around the digits, sending a wave of shivers up your spine and arousal to your core.

the second his fingers were released from between his soft, warm lips, your own pair replaced them, tasting remnants of yourself on his lips. you moaned softly, pressing your chest up against his.

“want you.” you breathed out heavily.

peter only shook his head, “not until you tell me what’s with the silence.”

“huh-” your brows pulled together in confusion, “you’re really not gonna-”

“first you tell me what happened.” he pecked your lips once, twice, and a few more times.

you sighed, pursing your lips as you tried to formulate what to say to him– or rather how.

when peter saw you struggle, opening your mouth and then closing it, he brushed a thumb against your cheek, “it’s okay, you should take your time.”

you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand transfer to your cheek as your eyes met. his chocolate brown eyes swam with what you could identify as pure adoration.

“until then…” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you.

soft at first, it escalated when he brushed his tongue past your lips, quickly finding yours in a slow yet passionate dance. peter pressed you against the mattress, handling the covers to stay over your bodies.

he wasted no time in moving his lips to your neck, hands going to hold your thighs apart as his thumb now brushed against your clothed thigh, kneading gently as his teeth nipped at your collarbone.

you gasped softly, letting him do as he pleased with you. as you held the back of his head with one hand, the soft, brunette sea of hair engulfed your fingers.

peter moved his hands to the hem of your sweatshirt, wasting no time in sliding it up past your chest, careful enough that you weren’t exposed to the coldness of the room. he dived under the quilt, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, the other being knead in the palm of his fingers.

you gasped as peter’s tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, your stomach flush against his torso.

you could feel his lips curl into a smirk before he switched, rolling your sensitive left nipple between his slender fingers as he licked and pulled the right one in his mouth.

you were getting fidgety, squirming under peter as he felt your grip tighten on his locks, not enough to hurt. he moaned against your skin, placing a few kisses right under your breast, moving lower, now seeming in a hurry.

“pete-” you almost pleaded, finding your voice breathy.

his hands travelled under the pair of sweatpants, making quick work of sliding them down as he traced your thighs, down to your knees before you felt the material slide off you.

you lifted the quilt slightly, just wanting to get a glimpse of peter. the few rays of light that touched him weren’t fast enough to warn you as his lips pressed to the wet patch over your panties. you gasped and threw your head back.

you felt peter’s hot breath and the muffled sound of his moan from under the blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, diving deeper as his nose pressed against your clit, the fabric thick enough to make you grit your teeth, wanting his lips and tongue on you.

maybe peter heard the clenching of your teeth or the way that your hand found home in the tufts of his hair again but he was eagerly pushing down the material past your legs throwing it down to the floor.

you felt peter’s forearms lift your thighs as he shuffled closer to your core, licking up a bold stripe across your folds. your back arched but peter’s grip was keeping you against him.

for a moment you heard him groan as he retracted, “what’s wrong?” you breathed out, supporting yourself up on your elbows.

you almost laughed when his hand creeped out from under the quilt, holding his fogged up glasses out for you to take. with a chuckle, you held the frame between your fingers, quickly placing them to the bedside table.

as you laid your back against the bed, peter was quick to wrap his lips around your clit. you let out a moan as he licked and sucked on the bundle of nerves.

he held onto your thighs, keeping you firm against his lips as he explored the very intimate part of you. his tongue darted out, poking at your entrance, but not giving you enough time to notice that as he slid the muscle deeper against your walls.

you moaned, pressing a hand over your mouth to muffle the lewdest sound you’ve ever made. the bridge of his nose poked against your clit and peter only pressed deeper as his tongue delved in and out of you. it seemed as if he would see no tomorrow if he stopped making out with your dripping hole.

you arched your back, “pete- oh god-”

you felt him hum against you, sending your jaw drop open as you finally felt the pleasure crash all over your body. your toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. you could swear this was the hardest you’d ever come before as goosebumps covered your arms.

you let out a sigh as peter helped you ride out your high, keeping up his ministrations. finally stopping, he placed a soft kiss over your clit, sending your body flinching at the action.

when peter climbed out from under the blanket, surely he looked like he needed to clean up. his chin dripping with your arousal and forehead all sweaty from being so long under the warm quilt.

“you need to wash your face.” you chuckled, brushing back a few locks of hair that were sticking to his forehead.

“and you need to tell me what’s wrong.” he mumbled and you sat up, adjusting your sweatshirt back down.

“it’s nothing-”

“and don’t you dare say it’s nothing.” he sat up as well, beside you, wiping mouth with the sleeve of his shirt– that thing was going in the washing machine the second this conversation was over.

“it’s… just… exams and stuff. you know how anxious i get.” you sighed.

“i know… but you don’t have to! there’s still a week left before-”

“okay, that may seem like a long time but trust me, it’s not.” you looked up at him, meeting the brown eyes that held concern, “i’m sorry, i… i was just overwhelmed. didn’t feel like talking.” you almost pouted, making peter pull you against his chest as he hugged you. you in turn wrapped your arms around his waist.

“trust me, i know how stressful exams can be. but it’s nothing you haven’t been through before.” he placed a soft kiss against your hair, making you hug him even tighter, “you got this, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. easy for you to say.”

he chuckled, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’re like, i don’t know, the smartest guy of our whole generation.” you mumbled against his shoulder.

peter shrugged at that comment, “hey, even i watch youtube videos for help sometimes.”

“yeah, but you grasp every concept so quickly, like you don’t even have to try.” you looked up at him, blinking when you realised how that must have sounded, “...that was supposed to be a compliment.”

“you’re adorable.” peter chuckled, “how about we study together? i’ll make a time table; and don’t worry, it’s not going to be super chaotic, just a simple time table; and we can figure it out together. how’s that sound?”

you smiled at him, feeling your heart swell at the amount of his care, “sounds perfect.”

his smile mirrored yours, “thanks for telling me.”

you gave him a grin.

“now since i told you, can we fuc-”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

masterlist

[urlovebot]

cw: perv sunghoon, voyeurism (???), sunghoon watches you shower. cumming untouched (technically).

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

sunghoon lounges on the couch, waiting for you to get ready so he can walk you to class today. he hears the shower turn on and silently cheers in his brain. this might be his second favorite time of the day.

he jumps off the couch and takes a stroll to the bathroom. you never lock the door, silly girl. he quietly turns the knob and cracks the door open just enough to see your pretty body through the frosted glass.

you're so fucking pretty. just thinking about you makes him hard, so for him to be able to see you? it makes him want to cream his pants right then and there but he has some sort of self control. he knows your routine by now, having peeked at you every day for the past month or so.

the first time was an accident. he opened the door without knocking and accidentally walked in. he apologized and you said it was fine and you both moved on but sunghoon... sunghoon needed to see it again. so, as anyone would, he made it a habit. he'd open the door slowly and see if you had any reaction. once he confirms you didn't hear, he'd just watch.

sometimes he'll fist his cock while he watches you. it gets him so hard, makes him so fucking dizzy at the thought of you catching him. he wants you to. he wants you to step out of the shower and catch him fucking his hand while he stares at you. sometimes he'd even blow his load on your clothes in hopes you'll ask him about it, but you never do.

usually you start with your hair routine. while it conditions, you start washing your body. you run your washcloth down your arms, on your neck, make your way to your tits- this part sunghoon zeroes in on. god he'd kill to suck on them. he imagines them bouncing as he fucks into you or maybe while you ride him. then you make your way down your stomach, stick the washcloth between your legs, then you move down your legs and-

you've discarded your washcloth? you've set it to the side. what's different about this shower? its not wash day for you, you wouldve prepped for that before your shower. you shaved yesterday and wouldve done so before starting to wash so what-

sunghoons jaw drops and his brain short circuits as he watches you reach your hand between your legs instead. his knees buckle as he sees your hand move in small, slow circles. you've never done this in the shower before. in fact, he's yet to see or hear you touch yourself but here you are- in the shower, soaken wet, trying to get yourself off in front of him.

he wills himself not to get hard. he can't. he cannot be distracted. fuck- where is his phone? he scurries into the livingroom to grab the device and quickly gets back to the bathroom. his hand shakes as he presses record. he makes sure not to watch it through the camera, he needs to see this with his own eyes first.

you've moved from slow circles to quick ones. he's a little surprised at this. surely you would take your time? perhaps you were being quick about it because you'd be walking with him to class. you've always been so considerate.

his tongue pokes out of his lip when your hand changes positions. he knows youve put a finger inside of you he just knows it. he can't make out any facial expressions but he sees your body tense a little bit- must be the stretch.

your other hand moves up your body and stops at your chest. your hand squeezes your tits together and then focuses on one, pulling your nipple and sunghoon swears he hears a moan out of you. the hand in your cunt moves faster and the hand on your tits comes to the glass door of the shower to hold yourself up and sunghoon can barely fucking breath.

you'd clearly done this before as your hands move with familiarity and ease- why did you do it in the shower this time?

sunghoon hears another, much louder moan from you and his head spins. he wonders if he wouldve been able to hear it from outside of the door or if the shower wouldve drowned it out. whatever the outcome, he thanks god that he's watching you right now.

he feels silly for being so starstruck but never in a million years did he think he would hit the jackpot like this. he sees your chest rise and fall quicker. oh god, you're about to cum. he's about to watch you fucking cum all over yourself in the shower and his head spins and his eyes unfocus as he realizes hes been subconsciously humping the doorframe this whole time.

and when you let out a soft whine followed by a couple whimpers, sniffles even, sunghoon feels himself shoot his load in his pants. his free hand grabs the doorframe to steady himself as he stumbles. he himself whimpers a little, caught off guard by his own orgasm. he's not even a little embarrassed, just happy he was able to witness this. he stops recording and quietly shuts the door.

he doesn't need to watch you finish your shower anymore. instead, he'll watch the video once more and empty his balls once again before changing his outfit.

if you ask, he'll say he spilled milk on his pants which, metaphorically, is not a lie.

[aperrywilliams]

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

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The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

-

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

-

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

-

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

---------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 195 }

crimson comfort.

sylus x (non mc)fem.reader

warnings: blood mention; self indulgent bc i’m on my period right now and am in pain 😭

your breathing comes out as labored, uneven breaths, with you curling up in a fetal position as waves upon waves of pain was felt coursing through your very veins.

sylus was out on a business trip for who knows how long, and you were left suffering through the throes of your own womanhood, feeling the blood staining at the sheets below you, rendering you unable to even move. sweat was felt staining at your skin, and you bury yourself beneath your burgundy comforter while trying to even out your breathing.

you desperately wanted sylus by your side, to help with easing your pain as he held you oh so tightly within his embrace-

but you knew that such a wish may be impossible to come true. he was away at the moment, and you didn’t wish to trouble anyone. as you began to feel even lonelier at the thought, you tried to distract yourself and decided instead to look out the window-

only to let out a gasp when you saw two crows settled on the windowsill.

as your eyes gaze at the birds with an almost forlorn expression, you were dimly aware of a series caws coming from each of them. you frown at such a strange sound, as if they were communicating with something-

or rather, with someone.

your eyes go wide at the sudden realization.

as if sensing your agony, you felt a strange shift in the air as dark feathers surrounded your periphery, revealing your lover stepping out of what looked like a crimson vortex. he hums, anger painting his handsome features as he looks down at your weak form on the bed.

“my men should have taken care of your every need.” sylus lets out a low hiss, allowing his crows to disperse as he takes you out of bed and into his arms. you tremble, letting out a sigh of relief when he places the palm of his hand against your abdomen, rubbing comforting circles as you felt the pain ease just the tiniest bit.

“i thought you… had a meeting and would be gone for a while…?”

sylus grunts upon hearing your words, delving his fingers into your hair as he pulls back slightly to look at you. “and watch you suffer in silence? those bastards can wait. you are my sole priority.”

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling sylus fully embrace you as he gently crushes your body to his chest, all while grumbling at how ‘incompetent his men are’ and how he should ‘teach them a lesson that they’ll never forget.’

and truthfully, hearing his grumpy words would have placed a smile on your face had you not been in so much pain. a whimper was heard escaping from your parted lips, making sylus act fast as he lays you back down against the plush mattress. he brushes back your hair and remains hovering above you, frowning while witnessing every moment of your pain.

he lets out a gentle coo of your name, pressing a kiss against your forehead before laying down next to you. he takes you in his arms as words of protests come from you. “wait… i’m still bleeding pretty badly. i might mess up your suit.”

“fuck this suit. i’ve got a million others to replace it. keep still and let me help ease your pain, whining about it won’t change anything.”

your back was pressed against his broad chest, and you could feel the way sylus’s hand was pressed against your abdomen. his large palm felt massaging against your stomach eases the cramps, allowing you to relax while in his embrace as you let out soft moans in response.

the more he kept gently massaging you, (revealing an uncharacteristic gentleness he saves solely for you), the more you felt your pain being eased by his almost reverent touch. you hum and purposely move away from him, earning a grunt of protest from the powerful man as you managed to let out a soft giggle in response.

“relax, i just wish to see you.”

remaining true to your word, you turn around so that you were now fully facing sylus, catching sight of his scowling features as he immediately wraps a hand behind your back, bringing you achingly closer to him. not allowing you to move away from him again, sylus makes a point in not just keeping his arms around you, but his legs as well. the man purposefully traps you against his chest, your bodies becoming a tangle of limbs in the process.

you meet his gaze, finding comfort within the rufescent quality of his eyes. your lover continues to meet your gaze, expression appearing neutral-

yet you knew him well enough to notice the tiny curve at the corner of his lips, indicating that he was genuinely smiling at you. you could feel your own smile brighten when you tell him (in a bit of a cheeky manner), “i should moan and whine more often if it means you’ll come home sooner.”

sylus scoffs upon hearing your words. “don’t you dare be a brat about this; you and i both know that this is a one time deal.”

you had to bite back a giggle, knowing that this man was lying to you-

for this was never a one time deal. in fact, in the past when your period pains got so bad that it teetered on the edge of agonizing, sylus would always always always stop whatever he was doing and return back to your shared bedroom (like he was doing at this exact moment) to comfort you.

as if knowing your thoughts, sylus lets out one last huff of your name, appearing even grumpier when he places a hand behind your head and hides your face within his chest (so that you couldn’t see the light blush that dyes his cheek). “sleep, i’m not going anywhere anytime soon; i’ll stay by your side.”

with one last giggle, you lean closer to press a kiss against his chest, basking in the spicy scent of his cologne as you steadily slumped against him, falling into a peaceful slumber while knowing how sylus would forever protect you.

a.n. - lmaooo i guess i’m writing more sylus stories now (/ω＼)

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[heejake-hoon]

Enhypen Hyung line when you wear their shirt (suggestive)

Heeseung: Heeseung stops dead in his tracks when he walks into the bedroom and sees you lounging on the bed in nothing but his button-down shirt. His eyes darken as they rake over your form, taking in the way the fabric swamps your smaller frame, the hem riding high on your thighs. "Well well well," he drawls, voice pitched low. "What do we have here?" he teased voice playful You smile up at him coyly, stretching languidly in a way that makes the shirt ride up even further. "I missed you," you say simply. "Wanted to feel close to you while you were gone." Heeseung's expression softens for a moment before heat sparks in his gaze once more. He stalks towards the bed, already loosening his tie. "And you thought wearing my clothes was the best way to do that, hmm?" You bite your lip, peering up at him through your lashes. "Don't you like it?" He groans, knee hitting the mattress as he crawls over you predatorily. "Oh I like it alright," he rasps, palming your bare thigh possessively. "Like seeing you in my shirt, smelling like me, marked as mine. Fuck baby, you have no idea what you do to me." You grin, winding your arms around his neck and arching up into him. "Why don't you show me then?" you purr, nipping at his jaw.  Heeseung growls, low in his throat, before claiming your mouth in a filthy kiss. "Gladly," he mutters against your lips. "Hope you weren't planning on getting much sleep tonight. Cause you're not leaving this bed until I've thoroughly ruined you in this shirt." 

Jay:

Jay chokes on his coffee when you saunter into the kitchen wearing his flannel, the garment barely skimming the tops of your thighs. His eyes nearly bug out of his head as he takes in your bare legs, gaze zeroing in on the tantalizing glimpse of collarbone peeking out from where you've left the top few buttons undone. "Morning," you chirp brightly, reaching past him for a mug and giving him an eyeful of cleavage in the process.  Jay makes a strangled noise, hands flexing on the countertop. "Is that my shirt?" he asks, voice strained. You glance down at yourself as if just noticing, all faux innocence. "Oh this? Yeah, I hope you don't mind. I couldn't find mine this morning and yours was the closest." He clears his throat roughly, shifting in his seat as his pants suddenly feel a bit too tight. "Right. And uh, did your pants go missing too or...?" You shrug nonchalantly, leaning back against the counter and crossing your legs. The movement makes the hem of the shirt ride up dangerously high and Jay has to physically bite his tongue to keep from whimpering.  "They're in the wash," you say casually. "Why, is this bothering you? I can go change..." You make it as if to leave but Jay's hand shoots out, fingers circling your wrist. "Don't you fucking dare," he growls, already tugging you towards him.  You stumble forward with a gasp, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you fall into his lap. Jay's grip immediately goes to your hips, large hands palming your ass greedily.  "You little tease," he breathes, nosing along the column of your throat. "Parading around in my clothes, barely covered, fucking begging for it. You're in so much trouble." You moan as he bites down on your pulse point, marking you. "Promise?" Jay's answering grin is positively wicked. "Oh you have no idea, baby. I'm going to wreck you in this shirt. And then I'm going to wreck you out of it. Repeatedly."

Jake: Jake nearly swallows his tongue when he sees you curled up on the couch in his hoodie, the oversized garment making you look soft and adorably rumpled. There's just something about seeing you in his clothes, all wrapped up in his scent, that makes his chest feel too tight. "Comfy?" he asks, aiming for casual and missing by a mile if the way his voice cracks is any indication. You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, a small, secretive smile playing on your lips. "Very. You don't mind, do you?" Mind? Jake's pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven. He clears his throat, trying to get ahold of himself. "No, no of course not. What's mine is yours and all that." Your smile widens, turning distinctly mischievous. "Oh? Does that mean I can raid your closet more often then?" Jake's jaw goes slack, arousal slamming into him like a freight train at the thought of you wearing his clothes on the regular, staking your claim on him in the most primal way. "I- uh, I mean- yes?" he stammers, brain short-circuiting.  You giggle, rising languidly from the couch and sauntering over to him. Jake's eyes nearly fall out of his head when he realizes you're not wearing anything under his hoodie, miles of bare leg on display.  "Good to know," you murmur, draping your arms over his shoulders and pressing your body flush against his. "Cause I really like wearing your clothes. Makes me feel close to you. Owned by you. Like I'm yours." you whispered the last part. Jake inhales shakily, hands flexing on your hips as he struggles for control. "Fuck. You can't just say things like that unless you want me to-" "To what?" you interrupt, eyes sparkling with challenge. "Take me? Claim me? Make me scream your name until the whole block knows who I belong to?" He growls, walking you backwards until your legs hit the couch and you tumble down onto the cushions. "All of the above," Jake rasps, already working at the zipper of his hoodie and shoving the fabric aside impatiently. "Gonna mark you up, ruin you for anyone else, make sure the whole fucking world knows you're mine." You moan, arching up into his touch wantonly. "Yes, Jake, please. Want that, want you, only you." "Fuck," he grits out, before descending on you in a flurry of desperate hands and filthy kisses, intent on turning you inside out and remaking you as his, thoroughly debauched and utterly owned. Just the way you both like it.

Sunghoon: Sunghoon freezes when he enters the bedroom to find you sprawled across the bed in his favorite silk shirt, the expensive fabric straining obscenely across your chest and riding high on your hips. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the expanse of skin on display, the way the dark cloth contrasts against your skin tone. "What's all this?" he asks, voice husky with desire. You stretch lazily, the movement causing the shirt to bunch and shift, revealing even more tantalizing glimpses of flesh. "Just thought I'd slip into something a bit more comfortable," you purr, eyeing him from beneath lowered lashes. Sunghoon swallows hard, arousal simmering slow and hot in his veins. He takes a measured step forward, then another, until he's standing at the foot of the bed, looming over you with a heated gaze. "And you thought my shirt was the best option?" His tone is low, dangerous, the kind of calm that comes before a storm. You bite your lip coyly, reaching up to fiddle with the buttons, popping one open and then another. Sunghoon tracks the movement hungrily, hands clenching into fists at his sides.  "Don't you like it?" you ask, all feigned innocence. "I thought you might appreciate seeing me in your clothes. Wrapped up in your scent, branded as yours..." He snarls, something possessive and primal unfurling in his chest at your words. In one swift movement, he's on the bed, caging you beneath him, hands pinning your wrists above your head. "You're playing a dangerous game, baby," Sunghoon warns, nipping sharply at your pulse point. "Teasing me like this, flaunting what's mine, practically begging to be taken..." You moan, arching up into him as best you can. "Maybe that was the point," you gasp. "Maybe I want you to take me, claim me, remind me who I belong to." Sunghoon groans, rocking his hips forward to grind his hardness against you pointedly. "Careful what you wish for, love," he grits out. "Keep this up and I won't be held responsible for my actions." You grin, a filthy, wicked thing, as you wrap your legs around his waist and use the leverage to flip your positions, straddling him and pinning his hands above his head in turn.  "Oh, I'm counting on it," you purr, rolling your hips sinuously. "I want you to lose control, Hoonie. I want you to fuck me like you own me. Because you do. I'm yours, utterly and completely. So prove it." Sunghoon's eyes flash, dark and hungry, and then he's surging up to claim your mouth in a brutal kiss, hands ripping at the fabric of the shirt urgently.  "Mine," he snarls against your lips, the word a vow and a prayer all at once. "My pretty baby, so fucking perfect for me, such a good little tease. Gonna ruin you, wreck you, make it so you never forget who you belong to."

[strangersteddierthings]

Eddie blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time for good measure. The scene before him doesn't change. Steve Harrington stands off to the side of the lunch table, behind Jeff and Frankie who have both gone still as statues like they think if they don't move, King Steve won't see them.

"Uh, what?" Eddie finds himself saying, against his own will. He heard Harrington the first time, doesn't need or want him to repeat himself, but his disbelief seems to have won out against his grudge for all jocks and his indifference to Steve Harrington in particular.

Harrington's face pinches, like he's three seconds away from rolling his eyes. He doesn't do that, though, which Eddie will give him one brownie point for. "I asked if you had a minute to talk." Eddie's taking away his brownie point because Steve 'asks' in a way that sounds more like a demand.

Hearing the question and or demand a second time doesn't lower Eddie's hackles, but it does pique his curiosity. He drums his fingers atop his lunchbox, thinking it over. He wishes he could say he's pretending to think about it before he tells Harrington to fuck off, but the truth is he actually is thinking about it.

What could Harrington possibly have to say to him? They very much do not run in the same circles. Eddie only talks business at the picnic table past the edge of the woods out back and everyone who buys from him knows that. They share several classes, since they're both seniors, but everyone knows Eddie's on a track to not graduate (again) so he can't possibly be coming to discuss Mrs. Click's homework assignment.

"Sure. Should we go elsewhere or...?" Eddie trails off, lifting a hand to wave in a circle in Steve's direction, questioning.

Steve looks over his shoulder, back towards the side of the cafeteria taken up by the 'popular' crowd. When Steve turns his face back, he looks- well, kind of sad for a moment before it's smoothed over with indifference.

Interesting.

"No. It's probably good that the rest of your friends hear it anyway," Steve answers.

Jeff's eyebrows rise to his hairline, and Frankie frowns as his eyebrows raise at the same time, showing an expression of interest. Eddie's got no idea what Gareth's face is doing because Eddie can't see him unless he wants to turn his face away, but he's certain it's probably a glare of some sort.

Eddie leans back in his chair, wiggling like he's getting extra comfortable before he says, "Well, alright Harrington. Shoot."

"I'm graduating this year, so I just wanted to give you a heads up for next year. I tried to curb the bullying, but I know it still happened. So, since I'm not going to be here to watch out for that, you're gonna wanna up your," Steve gestures to all of Eddie, "everything."

He knew Steve curbed the bullying a bit, heard the confirmation of that last year from Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan, when he'd stepped in to save Gareth. Or rather, Gareth had come flying in to save him and then Eddie had to save Gareth- well, the details don't matter really.

"My everything?" Eddie asks, more confused than angry. He thinks he should be angry. Harrington has all but outright said he doesn't think Eddie's going to graduate with him, after all. But no. The main emotion now is confusion.

"Yeah. Your, y'know, freakinesss or whatever. Be more of it."

"Be more of a freak?" It's fascinating, that Harrington just keeps talking like he thinks anyone at this table care for his opinion.

"Yeah!" Harrington says, cheery like he thinks that Eddie's agreed with him somehow, complete with a stupid snap of his fingers that turns into a finger gun pointed at Eddie. "You've already got this like unapproachable mad dog kind of look about you, most of the JV team is already scared of you. Just like, up that a bit more and they'll probably steer clear of you and your friends." Then Harrington frowns deep, looking around the table of nerds and dorks before looking down at the top of Gareth's head to add, "well. Except probably curly here. No offense, but you seem an easy target."

"Fuck off," Gareth growls, because of everyone at the table, Gareth does have the most bite. (Most bark goes to Eddie himself). Eddie's more prone to run from a problem than engage in it, unlike Gareth, who he's had to pull off of a few people this year.

"Or not," Harrington retracts his previous statement and Eddie will grant the man another brownie point, which brings the total up to one.

"Good to know my reputation precedes me," Eddie grins, wild and a bit manic.

Harrington is unphased. "Yeah! Do that more. I think it really freaks Jason out and he's most likely to take the captain slot next year, so if you get him afraid of you, the rest of the team'll fall in line and leave you alone too. I think he's super religious, so like, lean into the satanic panic thing people are up in arms about and next year will be a breeze. And-"

Eddie lifts a hand, a motion for Harrington to stop talking. It surprised him a little that Harrington does. Even more interesting. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, Harrington, but are you suggesting that I become the bully?"

Harrington's mouth opens and closes a few times before his face pinches again. Instead of looking like he's going to roll his eyes and be bitchy, Harrington looks confused and then like he's deep in thought. An uncomfortable amount of awkward silence falls over there table, but it's just when Eddie's about to break that silence that Harrington finally speaks. "No. I'm saying just like, be you but bigger. Like, you don't even gotta look in the team's direction. If you're just more of a freak than you usually are, they'll steer clear without the bullying."

"You sure know how to compliment a guy," Eddie deadpans. He's not even upset that Steve's called him a freak. He's spent the majority of his high school career cultivating that outlook. He wasn't just a freak, he was The Freak.

Now a look crosses Harrington's face. One Eddie's not sure he's interpreting correctly. If he had to take a guess, he'd say the look was calculating, knowing, in a way that Eddie doesn't think Harrington could actually achieve. Then it's gone, replaced with the bitchy, eye-rolling look Eddie's used to seeing, and Harrington says, "I haven't said anything untrue."

Hmm. The most interesting thing yet. Eddie might not be graduating (again) but he's not dumb. He didn't survive this far in his life, with a father like his, without learning to read people. He wasn't as good as he wanted to be at reading people last year, but he's definitely good enough know to think that, maybe, just maybe, Harrington also knows a thing or two about cultivating a public perception. Making sure people only see a certain side of you.

"Alright," is what Eddie answers, "I'll take what you've said under advisement."

"Uh. Okay," Harrington says before he just walks away. Conversation over.

"Well," Jeff says, "that was strange."

"Very," Eddie agrees as he watches Harrington walk away, tracking him until the cafeteria door slams shut behind him when he exits.

Eddie has always wanted to up the ante, so to speak. Jump on a cafeteria table and rant about capitalism and organized sports. He never has before but next year seems like a great time to try.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Girls Night Out

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut!!!

For the past three years, your weekends have mostly been spent following your fiance's races all over the world, and on his free weekends, you usually rest in front of the TV cuddled up to each other enjoying every moment of his free time you get to spend together.

But this Saturday night was yours and it meant only one thing - girls night out. Your best friend was celebrating her birthday, so you decided to go out to dinner and a few drinks with a close circle of friends. Girls only.

And you were really excited about that. It's not that you didn't like spending time with Lando, quite the opposite actually, lately you haven't really been interested in anything other than being in his arms, but every now and then a little change comes in handy.

As for tonight's outfit, since you just got your period, you opted for black wide-leg suit pants and a black corset top that accentuated and hugged your breasts beautifully. You looked hot, not in a vulgar way, but you were going to turn heads for sure.

"Lan, I'm about to head out" You said fixing your hair and entering the living room where your fiance was lying on the couch in front of the TV.

His gaze moved from the screen to you measuring you from head to toe with raised eyebrows.

"What?" You asked.

"That's a nice neckline you got there" He commented clearly displeased with your choice of outfit for a night out where he wouldn't be there.

"Thank you" You smiled rolling your eyes at him. "I like it too"

"You couldn't choose something else to wear? Like a turtleneck or something?" He asked making you laugh.

"And what's wrong with this? Please, do tell me"

"That cleavage of yours is begging for attention, that's what's wrong with it" He says, his expression serious and his eyes stuck on yours.

"Oh wow. I don't know what you would do if tonight I wore a dress like the one I wore for your birthday dinner" You said remembering the short cherry red dress that Lando tore off of you the second you got home from his birthday dinner celebration.

"You most certainly wouldn't leave the house wearing something like that without me let me tell you that" He says confidently making you roll your eyes at his comment once again although you secretly kinda liked that he was ever so jealous. You liked playing with his head a little from time to time.

"Where is your ring?" He asks about the big oval diamond ring he knelt before you with, even though he knows damn well you never take it off your finger.

"On my finger, of course, every day for a year now, where else would it be?"

"Let me see" You sigh moving closer to stand in front of him and hold your left hand out in front of him. He takes the opportunity to pull you by the hand and make you fall on top of him making you squeal as your chest hit his.

"Lando! Are you crazy?"

"I think you know answer to that question" He smirks grabbing your cheek and pressing his lips against yours.

"Yeah, I think I do. You're gonna ruin my makeup" You whine trying to pull away, but he ignores you pulling you in for another more heated kiss forcing his tongue inside your mouth.

"Lando.." You warn him trying to break the kiss. "Are you nervous that I'm going out without you?"

"No, I just don't want others to look at what's mine. Fuck, I don't want them even thinking about looking"

"Well, like you just said, I'm yours and yours only and you've known that for a long time now" You say pressing assuring kiss to his lips.

"Well.." His hand escapes between your thighs gently squeezing one of them. "Maybe I do need a little bit of reminding" His mouth find your neck leaving a trail of wet kisses all over it.

"Even if I wanted to, we can't, because I got my period this morning."

"I know you did. But you could use your pretty little mouth. That would convince me pretty well." His thumb traces over your bottom lip tugging it down.

"Lando..I have to leave soon"

"Baby, you can't leave me like this." He whines determined to get what he wants and you knew you wouldn't leave the house until he got it. "Touch it.. I got so hard just by looking at you." He takes your hand into his placing it over the tent in his pants. "I need you to take care of it" He whispers making you shiver and rub your palm against him.

"You better be quick" You say quietly before you drop off the couch onto the floor between his legs.

"Oh trust me, it'll take seconds" He sighs removing his pants along with his boxers and tossing them to the side. Leaning down he gives you a brief kiss before leaning back against the couch with his hands holding your cheeks.

You start by leaving sloppy slow kisses around his erected length holding your hands on his thighs. Your tongue runs lightly over his balls making him moan in response. You cup them in your hand gently massaging them while your tongue follows the line of the vein on his cock.

"Baby, put it in your mouth, please"

"Impatient, aren't we?" You tease wrapping your hand around him giving him a few strokes up and down. Your thumb crosses over his red swollen tip before attaching your lips to it and sucking on it.

He hisses at the sensation collecting your hair into a ponytail and tilts his head to the side to get a better look at you.

"Fuck baby, yes, yes, just like that -ahh" Praising you, you moan around him sending vibrations through his rock hard cock.

"You don't know what I would do to you right now if you weren't on your period"

"What, baby? Tell me." You ask taking your mouth off him and stroking him in your hand spreading the precum all over his tip.

"I'd fuck you until you begged me to stop" He moans and you squeeze your thighs together trying to get any kind of friction to reduce the ache between your legs.

"You're doing it so good. Sucking me off so good, fuck" You pick up the pace of bobbing your head up and down his cock opening your eyes for a second to look at his chest heavily rising and falling, his head thrown back and lips parted.

You loved the sight of him in front of you - he was so helpless, completely at your mercy, the sounds that he was making, moans of your name escaping from his lips were enough for you to know that he was fully under your control.

You loved the way his hand rested on the back of your head guiding it, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

"You love choking on me don't you? Yeah you do. Fuck I love watching the bulge in your throat when I fuck it." His hips bucked up as he started thrusting himself deep until his tip hit the back of your throat making you gag around him and reflexively pull back, teary-eyed, gasping for air.

"You're okay, baby, you're okay c'mon, take it" Gently caressing your cheek he tapped his tip against your lips before forcing himself back into your mouth. You continued working him up and down taking all of him in while your hand found his balls again making him a weak mess of a man.

"Fuck, baby I'm close." You felt him starting to tense under your touch as his hand replaced the work of your mouth. He took his cock in one hand and with the other he took your chin between his fingers.

"You gonna cum in my mouth, love?"

"Ahh, yes, fuck. You gonna swallow it?"

"Mhm, all of it" You nodded innocently sending him over the edge, his loud groaning broke through the room, the rhythm of his hand slowed down putting his cock back into your mouth as he reached his climax spilling his cum into your mouth.

He stayed like that in semi lying position trying to regain his strength back. You wiped your mouth with your fingers before he pulled you to him into a hug leaving a long kiss on your temple.

"Convinced?"

"I'd say so"