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Behind Closed Doors Pt. 2

Summary: Reader and Spencer get caught having sex in the storage closet, in possibly the most embarrassing way possible.

A/N: This is a requested Part 2 to my other fic by the same name, "Behind Closed Doors" . For the full experience, read them back to back!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, drinking/drinking games, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, semi-public sex, tipsy sex (if you squint), exhibitionism (kind of)

Word Count: 2.9k

The storage closet at the BAU had become somewhat of an unlikely sanctuary for Spencer and I. 

I didn’t realize how much I’d end liking it, especially since my boyfriend and I had always managed just fine with no PDA at work for long periods of time, but once I got a taste of it- I was fucking addicted. 

Maybe it was the thrill of knowing we could be caught at any moment, or the idea of someone hearing my moans through the thin door of the small space, begging Spencer for more and more until I was practically sobbing. 

Or maybe it was that Spencer seemed to lose all control when we were in the closet, any and all previous inhibitions and protests leaving him as soon as we closed the door, his hands immediately sneaking under my shirt, cupping my bra and removing it, touching me in any way fathomable.  His lips would make their way down my neck, teasing me until I was needy and desperate, and then he’d let loose, fucking me like we’d never get the chance to do this again. 

All in all, the closet was definitely a wonderful addition to the places we’d had sex in.

When Spencer and I had arrived at the bar for drinks after our most recent case, we weren’t really expecting too much from the night. It was meant to be celebratory, to commence a job well done from the entire team and while nights like this could get rowdy, Spencer and I had already planned to leave earlier into the night than usual to spend some time with just each other. (And to just have loads of sex, truthfully). 

Spencer had his hand in mine as we entered, spotting our team in the back in a little booth, already seeming to have gotten started on their drinks for that night. They smiled and waved us over and we approached them. Spencer let me slide in first, while he scooted in next to me, our thighs touching due to the small and intimate setting of the booth. It didn’t bother him, and he let his hand let go of mine before placing it on my thigh. It was comforting, as if a way to subtly tether us to each other even while we were in front of the team. 

We all exchanged hellos and pleasantries before Derek pushed two shots towards us. 

“Drink up.” He said, with a smirk. “For being late.” He added. 

I rolled my eyes playfully, before grabbing the drink and tipping my head back and taking it. The familiar burn of tequila hit the back of my throat, and I made a face. 

“Eugh. Tequila? Seriously, Derek?” I said, scrunching up my face and placing the shot glass down, watching as Spencer mimicked my actions, having a similar reaction, albeit less pronounced than mine. 

“Come on, pretty girl.” Derek said, winking. “Live a little. Plus, we all did them before you were here, so it’s only fair.” 

I laughed a little, already feeling a little tipsy and nodded. “Fine. Fine.” I said. “I’m not leaving here without at least one Cosmo in me though.” 

After a trip to the bar and a few drinks, conversation became lively, and jokes were exchanged freely. Everyone had loosened up quite a considerable amount, including Hotch, who was known for a much more stoic appearance at these things. 

It was JJ who eventually suggested we all take part in a drinking game, a habit from her teenage years emerging, when the options for entertainment in her small town were limited between drinking or visiting a local grocery store. If there was anyone skilled at turning a seemingly mundane situation into a lively one, it was her.

“Ooh!” Penelope said, clearly enticed by the idea. “What do you propose we do?” She said, clasping her hands excitedly together and laughing. 

“How about Never Have I Ever?” JJ suggests, smirking. I internally groaned. Never Have I Ever was fun, but when it turned sexual it was always a bit awkward for Spencer and I specifically. Whereas the married members of our team had the luxury of not having their partners there when risque questions were asked,  Spencer and I would awkwardly put down both our fingers at the same time, watching as our team put two and two together and realize we’d actually done that thing together. It was all in good fun and it didn’t bother me or him that much. We were a couple. Of course we had sex- but still. Having everyone at the table know that the man who was the cause for all my put-down fingers and empty shot glasses was actually right next to me always proved to make some interesting situations for the two of us. 

Still, we agreed good naturedly and smiled, as noises of approval spread among the table, everyone seemingly on board with the idea.

JJ looked happy, opting to ask the first question, since it was her suggestion in the first place.

“Okay, okay.” JJ says, excitedly. “Never have I ever.. slept with a coworker.” She flashed a mischievous smile, her eyes seemingly drifting towards our side of the table.

Spencer and I immediately groaned and the table erupted in laughter. 

“Sorry, sorry.” JJ said, putting her hands up in playful defense. “You know I had to. It’s practically tradition at this point when we play."

Spencer and I clinked our respective drinks with a small smile exchanged between the two of us, letting the bitter and burning liquid plague our throats. Penelope took a shot as well, since she had been with Kevin. We all argued for a bit that technically JJ’s relationship hinged on the fact that she’d met her husband working on a case. It was eventually decided that since Will never worked at the BAU specifically, JJ was void from putting a finger down. Even then, JJ wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to drink and took a shot anyway, and grinned. “Onto the next person.” She said, raising her shot glass to the person on her right. 

Derek beamed brightly, being the next person in succession to ask a question. “Alright, my turn.” Derek pauses. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” He says, confidently.

Emily smiled, sipping from her glass. “That’s me.” She said, tipping her head back and seemingly having no reaction. 

“Really Prentiss?” Derek said, smirking a bit. “How was he?” 

“Who said there was a ‘he’ at all?” Prentiss fired back, with a smirk and Derek nodded, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “Damn.” 

“Damn indeed.” Prentiss said, laughing a bit. “My turn. Erm. Never have I ever had sex in public.” 

Spencer and I glanced at each other, hesitated, before lifting up our drinks to our lips simultaneously. The entire team’s eyes widened, watching us. 

“Hold on- what?” Penelope said, leaning over. “No way! You two are so.. proper!” She exclaimed, in disbelief. “Where would you even..?” She says, trailing off, trying to figure out how she could reason this in her mind. 

“Hey, I don’t kiss and tell.” I say with a smirk. Spencer let his hand snake around my waist, away from the eyes of our incredulous coworkers. 

Derek laughs a little. “Well, at least we can be sure you two aren't the closet couple.” Derek remarks, and the team laughs. "That isn't something you'd ever do."

“Closet couple?” Spencer says, and even if he’s trying to hide it, I could sense the edge in his voice. 

“You know!" Penelope said, excitedly. “Nobody knows who they are- but there’s this couple who keeps sneaking into the storage closet off the hallways to have sex.” 

Prentiss interrupts. “I’m telling you, it’s that guy and girl downstairs in Records.” She says, nodding with absolute certainty. “All alone in that basement all day? I’d want sex that makes me scream like that too.” 

I heard the words and could feel my cheeks immediately heat up. Jesus, they were talking about me. Spencer and I were fully aware of the fact that we could be caught, especially since we weren’t exactly the best at staying quiet, but hearing our team discuss us- our sex, right in front of us without even realizing it was a mortifying experience nonetheless. 

“I just wanna know what he’s doing to her in there.” JJ muses, and everyone nodded in agreement. “Like, are you having sex or absolutely murdering the girl in there?” 

Spencer blushed at that, and now both of us were avoiding eye contact with the team, but they seemed totally unfazed, considering they were continuing their conversation about the aforementioned couple. 

“I swear, somedays I want to stand outside that closet just to see who comes out, but they spend such an ungodly amount of time in there and there’s only so long you can listen to two people having sex before it gets weird.” Emily remarked, and JJ laughed. 

“We’d have to take shifts, trying to catch them in the act.” and everyone agreed, nodding. “He must last long if they can spend that much time there..” JJ noted, offhandedly. 

“As fun as it is to speculate on who’s having sex in a closet.” Hotch starts, “It’s getting late. I’m going to finish us off with an easy one.” Hotch says, looking at the team. 

“Never have I ever had sex in a storage closet.”  Hotch says, clearly expecting none of us to take the last few remaining shot glasses on the table. 

Spencer bit his lip, hesitantly reaching over the table to take two shots for himself and me, and we both downed it. As we set our glasses down, we were met with the shocked faces of our coworkers. Derek's mouth was slightly agape, and Penelope pointed between the two of us, trying to connect the dots.

“You know what?” I say, loudly, before any of them can say anything. “I think that’s our cue to leave.” I comment, starting to push Spencer out of the booth, and he immediately understands my urgency. He grabs my hand and nods. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late.” He says, hurriedly getting out of the booth. “We’ll see you all on Monday!” He let his strong grip nearly drag me out of the booth, and we had our backs to the team in a split second.

“Hold on! You can’t just-” Penelope called out, but we’d already made it halfway across the bar before our coworkers could question us about what had just happened. As we left the bar in a panicked rush and felt the cold wind nipping at us, we took one look at each other and burst into laughter. 

“Is it safe to assume they know?” Spencer said, through laughs. 

My own chuckles came out a little embarrassed. “Incredibly safe to assume, actually.” I said, smirking at him nonetheless. “Now we know that all our coworkers think you’re murdering me during sex.” I say, playfully nudging his shoulder. 

Spencer wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into a soft, yet passionate kiss. It takes me by surprise but I immediately melt into it, wrapping my arms around him. I can feel his lips moving against mine, and when he slips his tongue in, I can feel the taste of liquor transferring from his mouth to mine. He pulls back and grins, boyishly. 

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Spencer said, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke.

I bit my lip. He looked so fucking sexy right now, the adrenaline from the game and the drinks making his complexion look rosy and hot. His hair was messy from our kiss, and his lips slightly swollen. Despite what felt like embarrassment in the bar, I realized it didn’t corrode the fact that I desperately wanted the man.

“Spencer.” I say, tugging on his shirt. “I need you.” I breathe out. 

"I need you too, baby." He responds, rubbing small circles into my waist.

"No, I need you. Please." I say, hoping he caught onto what I was asking for, without me explicitly saying so.

He knits his brows, understanding, and he let his hands linger on my waist. “Okay, baby.” He says, hesitantly. “Let’s get back home-” 

My desire, only heightened by the alcohol I’d consumed, caused me to shake my head. “No.” I interrupted. “Please, I need you now.” I say, using a voice that would go straight to his cock, full of broken desperation and need for him, just for him. 

It worked. He took one look at my blown out pupils and my parted lips and looked around. “I don’t wanna go back to the bar since the team could see us.” He groans. 

“Then here.” I say, frantically. 

“(Y/N).” He says, rubbing my shoulders. “I love sex just as much as you do but the front of a bar is not-” 

“Not here.” I say rolling my eyes. “The back. That one alleyway?” I say, praying to every God that my boyfriend would just say yes. And thankfully, he did. His face broke out in a smug expression, realizing we could actually have sex now, nearly dragging me as much as I’d allow him. I could feel the exhilaration and lust permeating from both of us, and as soon as we got to the alleyway, he got to work, kissing up columns up and down my neck. He didn’t even bother to check if someone was out there, turning his entire focus to me, to us, and how badly he wanted this. 

With every kiss and bite at my neck, my whimpers grew louder, and he cruelly put a mouth over my mouth, muffling my sounds. 

“Stay quiet.” He growled, and I looked at him, my eyes begging him to just fuck me already. 

“I think enough people know how much of a needy slut you are already, mm?" He says, beginning to undo my jeans and flipping me around, so his broad chest was up against my back.  "Or are you that much of a whore that you want the people at the bar to know too?”

He let the hand encompassing my mouth drop, and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Make one noise, and I stop.” I then realized that I could feel the head of his arousal rubbing against my folds, and my knees nearly went weak from the sensation. I hadn’t even realized we’d moved this fast, and suddenly, he entered me with a rough thrust, nearly pushing me into the wall. 

It took everything in me not to let out a yelp of surprise, and the bite I had on my tongue in this moment was sure to draw blood, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was every rough thrust that Spencer fucked into me, holding my hips with a bruising force, jutting into me like a man possessed. 

“You like that, mm?” Spencer whispered, leaning over to let his ears brush over the shell of my ear. “You like the idea of being caught? Of everyone knowing how fucking well I treat you?” 

I nod, wildly. “Yes.” I whisper. “Spencer, please-” 

But my words are cut off by another pass of his cock in me, leaving my jaw dropped but no sound coming out. 

“Come on, baby.” He grunts, cruelly. “Gave you one rule, didn’t I?” He says. He notices how weak my knees have gotten in the midst of our rendezvous, and he quickly grips onto my hair, pulling me up against him. “Can’t be a good girl for me?” He teases, a ruthless lilt in his tone. 

I whimper, nodding. “I can. I can” I mumble incoherently. I start to fuck back on him, matching the movement of his hips into mine, feeling myself rapidly approach my orgasm. “Please. I need- I need-” and without thinking of the consequences, I come, feeling the tension leave my body in pleasure inducing waves that cause my entire body to convulse. This only spurs him on to go faster, feeling the clench of my cunt around his cock. 

“Fuck- you feel so good. So fucking good around me.” He praises, and in an instant, his head is thrown back and I can feel him emptying himself inside me with a shudder, still gripping my hair with a desperate, primal need. He's panting, and breathless, and he pulls out as he finishes, tucking himself back into his pants quickly. He lovingly turned his attention to me, fixing me up as well. I whimpered softly as he took care of me, brushing my hair back and pressing small kisses to the back of my neck.

He turns me back to face him once he managed to get my underwear and jeans back up, and caressed my face, planting a tender kiss on my lips, then my forehead, and then bringing me close for a hug. I can feel the scent of sex, liquor and his cologne swarming my senses, and it only causes me to retreat into him deeper. I sense him breathing in my scent, and it makes me smile, knowing we both derived the comfort we needed from each other in that moment.

Finally, he mumbles against the top of my head. 

“Let’s get a cab and go home. Let me run you a bath. You’re so good to me.” He murmurs, still holding me in his arms like I was the last precious thing on Earth. 

I giggled against him, nodding. “Yeah. Yes, please.” I say, still a bit breathless, retreating from his embrace. “I’m surprised I managed to convince you to do that.” I remark, smirking a little, despite myself. “I can’t imagine how many germs are in an alleyway.” 

My boyfriend, of course, cringes. “Don’t remind me.” He says, squeezing my hand. beginning to lead me to the main road to find a cab. He then looks at me, a little smugly. “But I’d say it was worth it, right?” 

“Absolutely.” I respond, squeezing his hand back, a smile gracing my face. He smiles back, and I feel my heart jump.

I don't think I'll ever stop feeling like I’d won the lottery when it came to him. 

ahh! only got it out 1 day late. so that's good. hi! hope you enjoyed. nearly 4 people requested a part 2, so i hope you guys liked my take on the team "catching" them. any likes, reblogs, comments are so appreciated. thank you for reading. i am eternally grateful. ty!!! cannot say it enough

oh

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this is how you know the fic is MPUAH! anyway so excited for the next parttttt

Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow Part 2

A love unraveled and yet incomparable. Where are two people to go from here?

(a/n: Here is part 2! I am so glad everyone is enjoying this so far, I've had a lot of fun writing it and getting to be creative! I’ll see everyone next Monday for installment 3 - can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts!)

Alexia wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected when she barged into her Mami's house the morning after seeing you at the event, dragging Alba behind her.  

But it definitely wasn’t this. 

She had explained everything to the two of them, with a carefully constructed amount of excitement. The footballer didn’t want to seem overeager, but she also found elation building within herself the more she thought about what had occurred. 

She had never expected to see you again, but there you were. Not only that, you weren’t with anyone. You still had the capacity to love her. There was a chance that Alexia hadn’t lost you, and she held onto that hope like a fire lit deep within her chest. She was almost delirious with relief at the realization that maybe the last nine years hadn’t been a total waste, that maybe she had just been waiting for you to return. It threatened to consume her, and she felt as though nothing could break the jouissance that filled her. 

At least, that was what she thought, until Eli and Alba brought her back to reality with their contradicting opinions. 

“She’s here you guys, she’s here in Barcelona. After all these years, Flori is still here and she wants to see me,” Alexia told her family, a brightness in her eyes that hadn’t been present in years. Despite this, Eli and Alba both had a frown on their face as they glanced at each other with skepticism. There was an awkward pause before Alba finally turned toward her sister with a charged look. 

“Ale,” Alba started lightly, trying not to sound too negative. “It has been nine years. Is it possible that Flori has moved on? She was the one who stayed behind, after all.” 

Her younger sister's words were pointed if not entirely incorrect. 

“Do you even know what happened? You never got an answer from her, and now she has shown up at this event with absolutely no warning,” Eli continued, a point that Alba quickly found herself agreeing with. 

When they had all left Madrid, Eli and Alba never expected to lose you so suddenly. 

Where Alexia was upset, they were angry. Angry that you had hurt Alexia for no logical reason, angry that you had done it when Alexia was at her most vulnerable, angry that you were no longer there. They had trusted you with Alexia’s heart, and you had betrayed them. Forgiveness was not possible in their eyes, not after what had occurred. 

Eli missed your mother, who had grown to become a dear friend. Alba had lost your younger brothers, Adan and Leo, who she had been close with. The breakup had been a clean break in the literal sense, but emotionally it had been so much more complex than that. There was nothing but frustrating feelings and a wretched sense of loss for all of them. Where Alexia had softened over time, becoming more sympathetic, the rest of her family had hardened in their negative feelings toward you. 

It was valiant if not feeble that the footballer tried to argue on your behalf. 

“She is here now, and time has passed. Why would I not at least give her the chance to atone or explain herself?” Alexia argued as she furrowed her brows. She looked between her sister and Mami, feeling disheartened by their reaction. 

“She gave up that right years ago Ale, when she let you leave in the midst of Papi dying and you moving to go to your dream club. She let you go, she never reached out, she never explained herself. Does that not bother you?” Alba pressed, unyielding in her temperament. 

“It has been a decade practically, and she never tried. She let you go, ripped up your heart into pieces, and walked out of that door with no remorse. We were all hurt by it, but you should be the most betrayed! She was supposed to love you, and she left you instead. Don’t tell me that hasn’t been the thing that stuck out to you the most in the past nine years?” Alba continued as her words lashed out like a whip, threatening to send Alexia’s sense of stability and hope crashing to the ground. 

“I have a chance to be happy, and you want me to give it away! Does that not bother you?” Alexia spat back as her defensiveness mounted. She stared her sister down with an intensity that usually was only found when she was playing football, not speaking to a member of her family. 

“No, what you have is a chance to be hurt again, and based on past events, that is exactly what is going to happen Alexia. Don’t be stupid,” Alba shot back, and Eli quickly placed a hand on her younger daughter's arm to stop her. 

The room came to a hard stop, but the brunette’s heart beat too fast in her chest to notice. 

Had she made a mistake in trying to be forgiving toward you? 

What if her family had a point? 

“Alba is critical but what she says is in your best interest Alexia. Regardless of how you felt about your relationship, Flori hurt you irreparably. Are you sure you want to let her in again? Is that a risk you want to take?” Eli inquired gently, her voice much softer than the loud argument of her daughters. Alexia took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm outwardly even if she felt anything but on the inside. 

You had hurt her a lot. And they said it was irreparable, but the brunette was beginning to wonder if only you could be the one to soothe the ache. It had been nine years, and she had never once come close to feeling the same way about anyone else as you. 

But you had hurt her. 

Her mother and sister were not wrong in their basis of judgment. Alexia was beginning to wonder if she had been too naive, too focused on not looking a gift horse in the mouth to see the points her family had laid out. 

The Catalan wondered if you would explain yourself fully to her if asked. She hoped dearly that the answer would be yes, but maybe she didn’t know you as well as she thought she did. 

Maybe it was stupid to trust you after all these years. As much as Alexia had wanted to be mad about everything, she could never bring herself to fault you for what happened when you were both eighteen years old. She had always just assumed that the reason had to be big for you to make the choice you had. 

But maybe it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe she had just been too trusting, too loving.

“I…I’ve spent the last nine years thinking about her, loving her, whether I wanted to or not. I know you aren’t as trusting as I am, and maybe I shouldn’t be so hopeful. But I at least want to know what happened to us that led to her making the decision she did. I need that, at the very least,” Alexia decided as her mother and sister nodded wearily. 

Alexia had always taken the blame for what had happened, even if it had been a subconscious realization. She had simply assumed that whatever it was had been her fault. The brunette must have done something for you to make such a drastic choice not to be with her after so long together. 

Eli and Alba’s arguments rang in her head, creating a commotion in her mind of conflicting information. Perhaps it wasn’t her fault, but rather something on your end. 

She wasn’t sure now. 

All that the footballer knew was that by the time she left her Mami’s house, she felt a lot more lost than she had last night. Lost, confused, and drained of any excitement that had been present just an hour previously. 

—

You had woken up the morning after the event in a trance, unable to place your own feelings. 

Had last night really happened? 

Your dress was still on the hanger, just as you had placed it last night. The ghosting of mascara under your eyes left proof of your makeup, proof of the tears you had shed on the walk home. 

All of these years later, and there she was. Somehow just as perfect and illustrious as you had remembered her to be. Nine years on and she remained unchanged, unyielding despite her newfound fame. 

You had changed a lot in those nine years. And truth be told, you thought often of the footballer, though you tried impossibly hard not to. After all, it had been you who had left. It had been your own choice to sever everything the two of you had. 

You had your reasons, sure, but it had still been you. The choice for you to make decisions in your relationship with Alexia had been revoked in that instance, and you forced yourself to try and forget all that you had lost. 

To try and forget the feeling of being held in her arms. To forget the way she curled around you as you slept, or crawled into your lap to take a nap after a long day of training. To forget how much you two laughed together, how exceedingly happy she had made you. 

You had lost all of that, and there was nothing that changed that fact. 

It was ostensibly clear why you had moved to Barcelona five years ago, even if you vehemently denied that the move was because of the Catalan you once called home. But her dream had been yours as well, and even if you were later, you still had to come. 

You found yourself in the stands of her games often, tucked in the back with a hat pulled over your head, avoiding her gaze and that of her family as well. You probably shouldn’t have been there, but you had turned into quite the masochist in the wake of losing her. 

She looked free on the field, exactly as you remembered her. Focused, ardent, driven, mirthful, intelligent, protective. 

Everything you had loved and lost. 

It’s not that there hadn’t been opportunities to see her again, especially when you had first moved and you both were young. But you never took them, knowing that it wasn’t your right. Alexia was happy, and you would never interrupt her peace for your own yearning. 

After last night though…you weren’t sure if the word you would describe her as was peaceful. It was possible you were reading too much into things, but there was an air of longing present in the brunette that confused you more than you expected. 

You wondered if she would call you, but you had no way of knowing. 

It needed to be that way. This needed to be her choice, her decision. You had been the one to take it away, and you gave it back to her almost a decade later. 

There was hope in your body, a nascent festering that took root no matter how hard you attempted to stop it in its tracks. But at the end of the day, you would gladly give back to her the right to choose in favor of everything you dreamed and desired. 

You would make peace with whatever decision that was, no matter the cost to your own happiness. 

—

“You–I’m sorry, you what?” Jenni blurted out as she glimpsed over at Mariona, who found herself just as confused and taken aback by what the brunette had just described. 

Alexia leaned back in her chair as she let out a forced breath. Her participation in this lunch was more compulsory than anything else after an entire practice of her “acting weird,” according to the striker. 

Mariona had been dragged along for a second opinion, though the midfielder had found herself growing more and more curious as Jenni’s pestering turned into real answers from the brunette. The raven-haired woman, while annoying at times, had been friends with Alexia for long enough to know when she needed a bit of a push to talk. 

For Alexia to admit that the reason she was bothered was because she had a long lost childhood lover was not exactly what Jenni was expecting. But the striker was nothing if not able to work with what she was given. 

“Let me get this straight,” the older woman began as she leaned forward against the table. “You met when you guys were like five, grew up together, started dating when you were teenagers, then were supposed to move here together, but she broke things off suddenly right before you left and you haven’t seen her since?” 

“That is correct,” Alexia conceded warily, well aware of how slightly ridiculous it seemed as a story. 

“And all of these years, you haven’t stopped thinking about her? A decade later and you’re still hung up on her?” Jenni asked incredulously, her voice nearly an octave higher than it usually was. She seemed to be out of her mind at the thought, and the brunette slunk down further into her chair, feeling overly barren. 

“You hook up with women like there is a prize for who gets the highest body count,” Alexia shot back, trying to come off as more annoyed than exposed. 

Mariona looked miffed at the vulgarity of the statement while Jenni shrugged, acquiescence in her expression. 

“Low blow Alexia,” the midfielder noted briefly, but the striker waved her off easily. 

“The woman isn’t entirely wrong, but more importantly she’s deflecting. Okay, so you’re still in love with the woman. And it just so happens that she’s randomly at the Spotify event they sent you to, and she’s still in love with you as well?” 

“Well not quite but…” Alexia started to disagree before she trailed off, her friends eyeing her with unconvinced expressions. 

“Yes, fine, sure,” she amended crossly. 

“She just happened to be at the same event? What does she do for work?” Mariona raised her eyebrow, suspicious of a coincidence that large. Alexia paused for a moment as she struggled to think of an answer. All she was drawing was a big blank, and the realization that maybe she should have been more suspicious about this whole thing. 

“I…I have no idea. I didn’t ask! She was just right in front of me, and I panicked, I didn’t know what to do!” Alexia said restlessly, the amount of fidgeting in her seat a clear indication of her nervousness. 

“Wow…she made the great Alexia Putellas panic? I’ve seen you send away more girls than a persnickety Playboy photographer.” 

“Jennifer!”

“Sorry, sorry! Anywho, you panicked, and then what happened?” Jenni amended, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. The raven-haired woman was absolutely devouring this, fighting valiantly not to smile like the cheshire cat. 

“And then we went on a walk and talked for a few minutes, she gave me her number and told me to call her, and she left,” Alexia finished lamely, sinking back into her seat. She surveyed her two friends, who only looked at her with interested expressions. 

“Okay…and what are you going to do?” Mariona inquired once she realized that Alexia wasn’t going to say anything more. 

“I don’t know what to do! My family thinks that I shouldn’t call her, that she has hurt me too much. That maybe she doesn’t deserve to be in my life anymore. What do you guys think I should do?” Alexia. 

“Listen, it seems to be a weird coincidence to me personally. All of the sudden you start to get famous and she just happens to pop up? That is a little weird to me. It sounds like this person hurt you deeply Ale, and it has stuck with you. Are you sure you want to rehash everything?” Mariona pressed, her words strict and condemning.

“I’m not sure if I do. I’ve spent the last decade thinking of her, and then suddenly she was there and I just…I didn’t know what to do with myself. I never imagined her being in my life again, and there she was! I spent my whole childhood loving her. I never saw myself with anyone else,” Alexia admitted quietly as she wrung her hands together for a moment before setting them down in her lap, unable to make her own mind up. 

The vast majority of Alexia’s teammates had never heard of you at all. Jenni was a little too old, Mariona a little too young. Those who had known of you had forgotten, easily deterred by Alexia telling them you had broken up, unrealizing of how much it meant for the midfielder to lose you. 

Mariona had begun to speak again, but the striker had tuned the two of them out, thinking quietly to herself for once. 

As much as she teased, Jenni watched her friend with a keen, knowing eye. There had to be a damn good reason for Alexia to turn away all of those girls. It wasn’t just their looks, some of them were lovely and intelligent and hilarious, and still the star midfielder had absolutely no interest in them whatsoever. 

Almost as if she was waiting for something else. 

Someone else. 

All these years there had been something missing in her, as though she looked for someone who never came through the door. Jenni had never known what was wrong enough to ask, but now she was beginning to piece together the importance of you to Alexia. Where everyone else saw reasons to criticize and judge, the striker was stuck on Alexia’s words. 

How the desire and longing seemed unable to be contained and reasoned with, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. 

“What do you want?” Jenni cut both of them off suddenly, eliciting a frustrated noise from Mariona and a surprised look from the brunette. 

“I don’t know what I want!” Alexia huffed out with frustration, but the raven-haired didn’t accept that quite so easily. There were too many hands in the pot here. Alexia had always known what she wanted to do, she was simply being deterred. 

“No, you do. You’re convoluted with everyone else’s opinions, but I think you know exactly what you want. What is it that you want Alexia?” Jenni’s eyes never wavered from Alexias, as if daring her to look away. 

She knew that the Catalan wouldn’t, and she was right. 

Alexia stared right at her friend, knowing exactly what choice she needed to make for herself. Not for anyone else, but for herself. 

At the very least, she needed to know what had happened to lose you the first time.

—

Alexia told herself she would call you in a few days, giving herself some time to cool off and think things through. 

She couldn’t even make it through a few hours before she was digging up the card you had given her and typing the number into her phone. The phone rang once, twice, three times before you picked up, and despite herself the Catalan let out a sigh of relief that you had picked up at all. 

“Hello?” You said dutifully as you held your ear to the phone, unaware of who was on the end of the line. There was silence for a long moment, long enough that you questioned if anyone was even there, before sound finally came through.

“Hi,” Alexia choked out, failing to keep her voice as calm and unbothered as she had told herself she would be. 

“Hi Alexia,” you replied, fighting to seem as unphased as possible. You were shocked she had called you, and your heart beat so rapidly in your chest it felt as though it was fluttering. 

“I know it’s sudden…but can you talk tonight?” The footballer blurted out after a few seconds. Your heart constricted with panic, but you swallowed it down and forced yourself to remain agreeable and steady. 

“Absolutely. What time and where should I meet you?” You questioned as you took a deep, bracing breath. You listened as Alexia rattled off an address and the two of you agreed to meet in an hour before she hung up. 

This might be your last chance to tell her the truth. Would it be worth it though? Was the possibility of creating an ache in her chest worth revealing what had really occurred? 

You knew her, and you knew that her guilt would be immense even if the situation was completely out of her control. You made the choice for her, knowing that it was the right one. But you were unsure if she would see it that way. Perhaps she would only see the hurt you had caused her unnecessarily, and that would be the end of it. Maybe that should just be the end of it, allowing her some answers while allowing her to move forward with her life. 

It had been nearly a decade. You had been without her nearly as long as you had been with her, and a piece of you knew that the ache would never disappear. You would always yearn for her, even if she decided to move on. 

But that was a right she had earned, and you had lost. 

It had been your own fault after all, that turned you two into this unsure, bumbling mess of emotions and challenges and strife. You would have done anything to change that if you could have. 

It was your fault but not your doing, at the end of the day. 

You arrived at the beach where Alexia told you to meet her a little early, which allowed you to sit down at a bench and look out at the ocean waves that poured in and out. You granted yourself that small moment of grace on the nearly empty beach as you slipped your sandals off and felt the lingering warmth of the sand under your feet as the sun slid behind the ocean. 

You didn’t notice Alexia’s approach until she was in front of you, and though you offered her the seat next to you silently, she didn’t take it. 

It should have been this that informed you that it would go downhill from there, but you clung to the hope that maybe this would be a productive conversation. You still didn’t know what to say exactly, but you knew you were not going to be dishonest. 

Alexia’s eyes examined you critically, as if she didn’t believe that it was really you. 

“How did you end up at the event the other day in the first place?” She inquired after a moment, and you can’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, lost as to why this was the first question she asked. Lost as to where all of this hostility came from, when you had yet to say a single thing. 

You had expected her to become angered as the conversation went on, but she already seemed cross and you had yet to say a word. 

“I work for Morgan Stanley doing investment consulting and management specifically with Spotify. I’ve become close with the people at the company as I work with them most days, and they invited me to the event. There were investors and important stakeholders that I was able to meet in person. I’ve come to the same event every year for the last three years,” you disclosed to the brunette, but the skepticism and hostility in her eyes never wavered despite your clarity. 

“Did you see me before we ran into each other?” She interrogated, and you settled into your seat uneasily. This felt less like a conversation and more like she was drilling you, waiting for you to slip up and say the wrong thing. 

“At the event, or in general?” You replied, wanting nothing but honesty in your responses. You could give her that, even if the air between you two was charged with more tension than you expected. 

“Both.” Alexia crossed her arms, everything in her posture defensive and frustrated. 

“At the event, no. I didn’t know until I was standing right in front of you,” you clarified, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to avoid fidgeting nervously. “In general, yes I had seen you. Only from afar though, at your games over the years. I never would have approached you.” 

I never would have approached you. 

Alexia felt every defense in her mind light up at that statement. When had you decided you were so utterly done with having her in your life? All the Catalan could think of was her mother and sister warning her that this was going to be a mistake. All she could think of was Mariona who talked about how strange the coincidence was that the two of you had run into her, as though it was so suspicious. 

You had left and hurt her. 

It had been your fault, that is what all the evidence seemed to tell her. 

Something pulled at the brunette’s mind though, something that begged her not to be so bellicose. Something that screamed at her that there was more to the story, and that handling everything this way was a horrible idea. 

Fear seemed to rule her though, rearing an ugly head that the midfielder was not proud of. 

“How many years,” she beseeched, fighting the wave of tears she could feel stinging at the back of her eyes. Her voice was low, wavering in a way that betrayed her emotions more than she cared to admit. You had let out a low sigh as you hung your head. 

“Five years. I’ve been in Barcelona for five years, and I’ve been coming to your games on and off for five years” you finally confessed as you shook your head. You looked up at the Catalan, who seemed caught between devastation and outrage. 

“You moved here five years ago and didn’t even think to come and talk to me? You never thought to check on me, to try and reach out?” Alexia seethed, burying her hurt behind a mask of fury. More than anything, the footballer felt like her whole chest had caved in. 

“No I didn’t. I had broken up with you Alexia, that was the choice I made. I wasn’t going to come barging back in four years later and demand that you take me back,” You tried gallantly to remain calm, even in the face of Alexia’s vexation. The brunette hated your answer, throwing her hands up in acute frustration. 

“You never even bothered to ask! You might have taken away my choice once, but you’ve spent five more years taking that choice away. You are a coward,” Alexia accused, pointing a finger at you even as everything in her screamed not to. She would regret what she said in the light of day, but all she felt right now was wounded. There was an intense urge to protect what little pride still remained inside her, and apparently in order to accomplish that she needed to lash out. 

You met her toe for toe though, not giving her the anger she wanted exactly but rather a sense of indignation. 

“I am a coward Alexia, you’re right. I wanted you to live your life, to move on, and I made the choice I thought was best for everyone at the time, including you. Don’t stand here and act like I made the choice without consideration for your feelings, because I have,” you fought, because even if you were at fault, you had tried so hard not to be selfish. If the Catalan got a single thing out of this conversation, you wanted it to be that. 

“No you haven’t, you’ve been selfish for the last decade! I lost my father, my community, and then you all in the span of one month. You disappeared, just like that. You were like a ghost, and I was on my own, and right when I needed you, you weren’t there!” She practically yelled, and it looked almost like her entire body vibrated with resentment. 

The footballer took a deep breath as she both tried and failed to remain calm. But every time she had more than a second to think, anger and vitriol seemed to flow out of her. 

“I hate myself for how much I needed you all these years, how much I longed for you. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was going on right in front of me. And now you’re back here…for what? A celebrity status? To be a WAG? I don’t have time for that, and I don’t want you anymore if you see me as such a transactional person. I don’t even recognize you anymore,” Alexia explained with an air of indignance. 

Though you had tried to remain calm, something finally snapped inside of you at that. You simply couldn’t allow for the brunette to say such things about you, and finally you allowed yourself the candor you’d held in all these years. 

“Oh for God's sake Alexia, really? I haven’t come here to be your WAG, or for your fucking money! I’m in investment banking for Christ's sake, I am fine financially! I don’t like football, but I spent my childhood going to games because you loved it and I loved you! You think it didn’t kill me to let you leave like that?” 

“You were my forever. We were young but you were the love of my life, and even now I can’t find myself ever connecting with anyone the way I did with you. I know I am older now, but I still have the same heart as I did when I was eighteen. You loved that person, and I’m not saying you need to love me anymore, but do not stand here and act like I have changed into someone unrecognizable when I have not!” You articulated, unwilling to allow yourself to be trodden over with disrespect. 

You were not the same person as you were at eighteen, but you were also not the person Alexia had made you out to be. 

The fight seemed to drain out of your body in an instance. Any hope that had been clung to was lost entirely as you decided just to be honest. You knew the brunette didn’t want anything to do with you, and in that moment you made peace with that. 

You would give her the truth, and nothing else but the truth. When you looked up at the Catalan, there were tears shining in your eyes. 

“I was sick, Alexia. I found out two days before I broke up with you that I had breast cancer, and I needed to stay in Madrid for treatment. You had just lost your father, you were moving to a whole new area of the country. You didn’t need to be worried about your sick girlfriend, trying to travel back and forth to Madrid, to have even more on your plate,” you revealed slowly as you aggressively wiped away the tears that flowed down your cheeks. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“So yes, I made a decision for you. In all honesty, it was a decision I would happily make again and again if it came down to it. I wanted to preserve what little peace and happiness you had left before the move. I ached for you afterward, but I knew that this was the right choice. I wanted you to live your dreams, with or without me. And by the time I finished treatment and came to Barcelona, I felt that it was too late. I had broken us, it was my fault entirely that we had broken up, and I didn’t feel like I had the right to come to you and explain.”

“So no, I haven't approached you for the last five years. I come to your games and I see you play with joy and happiness, and I see you with your family, and I want to leave you with that. So don’t look at me and call me a coward or a gold digger or whatever the hell you think I am, because at the end of the day I tried to make the best choices for you and me, and I can’t take them back anymore,” you released, and suddenly you felt much older than your twenty-seven years. You head hung, and you shrugged before you spoke again, your tone bitter and defeated. 

“If you’re so intent to see all of the reasons I fucked up, fine. If you need to tell yourself that I am a selfish whore to sleep at night, fine. But I sincerely hope that when you go to sleep at night you at least remember for a second that the decisions I made were for you, not because of you. Maybe it was the wrong choice to control that for you, but I can’t go back and change it now. So please, just leave me alone if this is all you want from me. I don’t have anything more to give you, not anymore,” You stated with exhaustion, spinning around to walk away. You disappeared into the night before the brunette even had a chance to say anything, left far too shell shocked to even begin to process your words. 

You were gone without a glance backward, and Alexia sunk down onto the bench you had once occupied as remorse purged every other feeling in her body.

💗

caught

❦ pairings: sirius black x fem!reader (romantic), james potter x fem!reader (platonic, ex couple)

❦ warnings: oral (f receiving), teasing, fingering, sirius calling reader 'slut', shower sex against the wall, swearing, mentions of cheating. . . i think that's all. DON'T READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE !

❦ summary: your relationship with sirius was secret. but one day, your ex boyfriend, james, catches you and sirius naked and in not so pleaseable position (for him) in the shower.

❦ a/n: not my gif.

❦ word count: 2,1k

your boyfriend on his knees was definitely a sight you could get use to.

you didn't know how all this happened. you and sirius only wanted to get a nice romantic shower and now you were begging for him to make you cum. you were sure you'll come out of the shower dirtier than when you came in.

sirius was teasing you – he always was a teaser. he had his eyes fixated on you, watching you whine and throwing your head back in frustation when his tongue made ubelieveably slow circles on your clit. you were desperate and horny.

james, peter, marlene and mary were spending their time in the common room meanwhile lily and remus had their prefect duties, meaning you and your boyfriend had finally time for yourselves.

"sirius, please," you begged for like a milionth time. you let out a mix of a sigh of relief and a moan when sirius finally stopped teasing and fastered his movements. he was aware of the fact that anyone could walk in on you two anytime so he better not waste time as he wanted some relief as well.

you couldn't help but to buck your hips at the sudden pleasure. the grind against his face was even more pleasureable and sirius knew that so he wrapped his mascular arms around your thighs tightly, trying to keep you in place, making you unable to move.

your boyfriend unexpectedly sucked your clit, causing a soft yelp to escape your lips. sirius smirked, proud of himself. he then let off your button and moved his tongue to your entrance. not waiting for anything, he slid his pink muscle into you. you leaned against the glass wall of the shower behind you as your legs were getting weaker. you pulled his black locks rather harshly. you were about to apologize when he groaned against your pussy, sending vibrations through your entire body.

you arched your back in the air, feeling slightly embarrassed of how quickly you could feel yourself approaching your orgasm. sirius already knew that – he always knew.

that's why he on purpose slowed his movements. he didn't want to deny your high, no, but he just really enjoyed watching you beg, being needy and desperate.

"no," you whimpered, trying to move before remembering his hands were keeping that ability from you, "please, don't stop."

the famous sirius black smirk appeared on his face. then, he put your left leg around his shoulder as his long finger found its way to your opening and slid them inside with ease.

you were thankful for the silencing charm you casted before things got heated because you didn't hold yourself back. a loud moan slipped out of your mouth, finding yourself in a desire for more.

"more, please."

sirius, to your surprise, obeyed immediately and added a second finger. perhaps he was no longer in a mood for teasing you, but you knew that was impossible.

you were getting closer and closer by every passing second. and it didn't help when sirius' magic fingers found your g spot and his tongue went to your clit again, sucking it and drawing circles, making your legs tremble.

"cum, you slut," said sirius through gritted teeth, "make a mess for me."

you didn't need to be told twice because his words and voice sent you over the edge. the next moment, you were falling apart on sirius' tongue. he still fingered you trough your orgasm as you screamed in pleasure. his name seemed to be like the only word you knew at the moment.

you were surprised of how long your high lasted after you finally calmed down, trying to catch your breath as you once more leaned against the shower wall.

sirius chuckled lowly and then stood up. he brought his fingers to your mouth. you sucked them, tasting yourself.

"jump," your boyfriend ordered and you did as you were told, you jumped as his strong hands found their way to your ass and gripped it. you wrapped your legs around his torso and that caused the gap between your bodies getting smaller. you now felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, making you bite your lower lip.

sirius smiled at your reaction and immediately pushed his length into your pussy. you threw your head back as he stretched your walls.

not letting you adjust, sirius quickly began to move in and out. pleasure soon replaced the burning feeling from your previous orgasm as sirius' head was placed in the crook of your neck, leaving sloppy kisses on it once in a while.

you yanked his hair again and he pulled away from your neck. you brought him into a kiss, which was full of lust and passion.

you arched your back, hoping you could get his cock deeper inside than was already possible. it worked, because the tip hit your g spot.

the bathroom was full of your and sirius' moans, often moaning each other's names as you both could feel yourselves approaching your high.

"fuck," surius groaned against your neck. he then left some marks and bites on it. your nails were digging into his back, you were sure he would have some moons and scratches on it tommorow.

you were about to cry out how close you were, but your attention was caught by a figure.

because of the foggy glass wall, you couldn't quite tell, who it was at first. couldn't be remus, he's taller and his hair was definitely lighter. it couldn't be peter either, his figure was much shorter. at that moment, you knew who it was.

you didn't cast 'colloportus'.

fuck.

you patted sirius' back quickly, hoping he gets the sign. unfortunately, he didn't.

"j-james," you said loudly. sadly, with a moan, making sirius to have confusion written all over his face.

"what?" he exclaimed, pulling away from you, stopping his movements. "james? really? hm let me guess, you are still in love with him and while i fuck you, you imagine your precious ex boyfriend."

"sirius, no!" you denied in desbelief, trying to ignore the feeling of knowing he doesn't trust you completely. you tilted your head at a place behind his shoulder. "james. . ."

your boyfriend turned around confusedly. at the sight of his best friend catching him and his ex girlfriend having sex, he pulled his cock out of your cunt and cursed under his breath as his face went even more pale.

"o-oh, hi, prongs," he stuttered, pursing his lips into a thin line.

you grabbed two towels, one for you and one for sirius. you handed it to him and you two immediately wrapped it around your bodies. after you and sirius stepped out of the shower, you were met with an angry james potter.

you gulped nervously, stepping closer to him. "james? you alright? you look a little bit. . . well. . . like you're ready to murder someone. . ."

"that's because i am!" he snapped at you angrily and then turning his gaze to sirius. "what the fuck you think you're doing, black?"

"well, what do you think?" sirius raised an eyebrow. "that's what couples do, i was just having a great sex with my girlfriend, before you interrupt us!"

potter's face was getting a color of red. "you little–" he stopped himself. "hold on. your girlfriend?! as in y/n, my ex girlfriend?"

"yes, that's her," sirius nodded, waiting to get punched. but instead of that, james turned to you. sirius was getting more worried at that move.

you, on the other hand, weren't scared. no matter how angry james was, he would never hurt you. that boy wouldn't hurt a fly.

"so you're dating him? my best friend?"

"yes, so what?" you asked. "do i need to remind you that you broke up with me because you were in love with lily, also known as my best friend?"

"well, you didn't seem that down from our break up," james argued. "it's like you were sleeping with sirius while we were still dating."

"mate-"

"oh?" you cut sirius off. "so you wanted me to get depressed because of our break up?"

"no, that's not what i meant-"

"whatever," you huffed, crossing your arms in your chest. "anyway, why is suddenly everyone accusing me of cheating?" from the corner of your eye, you could see sirius', who was standing next to you, face of guilt as he remembered what he said earlier. "we broke up more than six months ago, james! and i wasn't down after our relationship ended because i figured out that my feelings for you were purely platonic! if i'm not wrong, which i'm not, i had plenty of time falling in love with sirius!" your boyfriend's face softened. he had never heard you were in love with him before.

"well, congrats that you moved on. that's great really." sarcasm could be heard in his voice. "sorry to dissapoint you, y/n, but he isn't in love with you."

"james, that's not true. i am in love with her." sirius glared.

"bullshit!" james spat, scoffing. "you never felt any romantic attention towards the girls you slept with. y/n is not an exception."

"you don't know what are you talking about! i once liked a girl i slept with!" you raised your eyebrow at him. "but i don't like her anymore, darling. i love you."

you looked at him like you never looked at anyone before as you interwined your fingers with his, your thumb rubbing his knuckles.

"i love you too," you confessed and sent him a loving smile, which he couldn't help but to mirror.

james only scoffed and said "i can't do this anymore," before walking out of the bathroom. you wanted to go after him, but sirius stopped you.

he bent over and picked up some clothes. "he's upset right now. give him few days. well, maybe a week or perhaps few weeks. . ." he threw you his short-sleeved shirt and your shorts.

"few weeks?" you exclaimed, putting on the shirt. "he possibly can't be mad at me for few weeks?! that immature, arrogant cockroach! but i know him for long enough to know you are right. . ."

both of you were surprised to see james sitting on sirius's bed by the window, watching out of it. when he heard the bathroom door open and then close, he turned his head to you two.

"sirius," he said coldly and patted his hand on the bed. "let's have a little chat, yeah?"

your boyfriend looked at you with pleading, gulping. "please, kitten, promise me you will come to my funeral. and bring those black roses. . . they're nice."

you rolled your eyes and pushed him forwards to his friend. "stop being dramatic, black."

"wait, y/n, you can stay. me and sirius don't mind your presence, do we?" james's voice stopped you from walking out of their dorm.

sirius shook his head, probably happy with the idea of you staying here while james was going to beat the living soul out of him. you nodded, sitting on perer's bed, which was placed close to the door.

james then coldly smiled and drew the red curtains around sirius's bed, making you unable to see what was going on. that made you quite nervous.

when you didn't hear any noises for a while, you knew that james used the muffliato spell.

MEANWHILE AT SIRIUS'S BED

"so. . ." your boyfriend laughed very nervously, trying to light up the mood.

it didn't work because james sent him a deadly glare. "we had a deal, sirius."

sirius groaned. "oh, come on, prongs, we were thirteen! at that time i never thought you could have a girlfriend!"

"oh, so you could and i could not?" james raised an eyebrow. "how come? we're almost the same!"

"well, i am devilishly handsome. no wonder y/n fell for me," sirius smirked. "quite literally. . "

"you have no idea how much i want to punch you right now."

quietness filled the air.

"i want to ask you something and i want the most honest answer you can give, alright?" james asked

"alright."

"do you love her?"

sirius smiled and nodded. "i do."

"how much?"

"as much. . ." your lover paused. "as much as you love evans."

james chuckled for the first time in a while, nodding approvingly. "wow. that must be a lot."

"look, james," began sirius, "i have never felt like that about anyone before. not mary, no one."

"i know," james sighed. "but let me tell you this. if you'll hurt her–"

"yeah, you murder me blah blah blah."

your ex boyfriend bit his lip. "that's not what i wanted to say. . . i was about to say that if you hurt her, you're gonna lose the ability of having children. 'cause your dick is gonna end up deep in your throat and i'm not gonna be the one putting it in there."

sirius laughed. "very funny, but y/n is not that violent."

"believe me, mate. i've dated her."

and from that day, sirius was afraid to piss you off.

I live for boyfriend sarah catherine🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

Awwwwwwwww hehdscydv

The Assistant (Leonora Lesso x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Lesso is certain her assistant is working to take her down. After all, you're too good to be true.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of smut, choking

You should be scared. That was the only thought going through Lesso’s mind as she loomed over you, staring down into your wide eyes and small smile. One hand had slammed into the wall beside your head and she was leaning in, teeth bared in a snarl. You weren’t cringing away from her, looking up at her expectantly, as if she was amusing you with her antics.

“Yes, Lady Lesso?” you asked, voice light and bright, the way it always was.

She growled, pushing away from the wall. She could feel the weight of your eyes on her, the way she always could. You watched her often, assessing her, trying to read her motives. It itched, the way your gaze seemed to burrow beneath her skin, seeking out her vulnerabilities. That had to be what you were doing, searching for ways to hurt her or bring her down, to manipulate her for your own gain.

Only you remained as you always were, sitting outside her office, following her orders like the obedient little thing you wanted her to believe you were, never influencing or questioning.

“You’ve been missing from your post for too long,” she said, needing an excuse for her anger towards you.

If you knew she was on to you, she’d lose the upper hand. She wouldn’t be able to ferret out your true intentions if you buried them further in the face of her suspicion.

“My apologies, Lady Lesso. Billious was holding me up in the kitchen,” you replied, voice soft, a note of guilt darkening your words.

You were a wonderful actor, she would give you that.

“No excuses,” she snapped.

She swept away from you, leaving you leaning against the wall beside your desk. You followed her into her office, the familiar scent of vanilla following you. It would linger, she knew from experience, far longer than your presence would, and she would be forced to inhale the putrid scent for the rest of the afternoon.

You were careful as you placed the cup of coffee you’d been sent to retrieve on her desk, avoiding the stacks of paperwork she’d been ignoring. Counting the seconds you’d been gone had taken up enough mental energy to keep her occupied.

“Will that be all, Lady Lesso?” you asked.

She lowered herself to her seat, considering you on the other side of her imposing desk. You stood with your hands clasped in front of you, in one of those infuriating dresses she found herself so distracted by. Dipping necklines and flashes of your knee when you walked had her mouth turning dry and her thoughts fleeing her like a scared fairy. A small smile was curling your pink lips and your eyes were looking at her from under long lashes, sparkling in the fire light.

“Remove yourself from my presence,” she ordered.

Your chin dipped in a small nod and she watched your back as you slipped from her office. She would find your secrets, the plans you were building on the back of her work, the betrayal you would be committing. It was a perfect ruse, innocence and sunshine, hiding a deeper insidiousness she would root out. She would expose it to the light and sneer at your snivelling body, grovelling for mercy under the weight of her might.

She settled back in her chair, leaning back as she considered the door. Of course she’d hunted through your desk, picking the singular lock to discover a drawer full of sweets and notes filed away in perfect order. Nothing suspicious which only piqued her interest further.

You were smart. Of course you were. She wouldn’t have tolerated your appointment as her assistant if you weren’t. You held your own and anticipated her needs before she could ever voice them. In all ways, you were the perfect assistant. And it grated on her.

You had grown to be the bane of her existence.

Straining her ears to hear your movements on the other side of the thick wooden door, she found herself leaning forward. A curl of steam rose from the cup of coffee before her, placed there by your sure fingers, not a single drop spilled. Raising it to her lips, she had to admit you made a wonderful cup of coffee. She would miss that once she’d crushed you beneath the heel of her boot.

Your voice was muffled when it finally reached her ears. Bright and airy, your tinkling laugh made her stomach clench. Joyous laughter was wrong in her school, an aberration she aimed to squash from her halls. All attempts had failed with you, indulgence lining your expression whenever she tried.

She rose from the desk, tiptoeing to the door to listen in. Stealth was of the upmost importance, not wanting to alert you to her presence. To stay one step ahead you must be kept in the dark. Pressing her ear to the cool wood, she listened, hoping to overhear something you wouldn’t want her knowing.

“I’m hardly going to show up at the crack of dawn,” you said and she could just imagine the bright smile on your face, “I’m more of a midnight stroll kind of gal.”

“But they only bloom in the early hours of the morning,” the person you were talking to was saying, a hint of a whine in his voice.

One of the new teachers. Young and enthusiastic, built in the style of Hort with his overeagerness to prove his villainy. Villainy was not provable, it simply was. Apparent in every action you took.

Which is how she knew you must be a spy, looking to ingratiate yourself into her trust only to strike her when she least expected it.

In every sense of the word you were the complete opposite of villainous. You were bright and happy, smiling at every turn. You laughed and you hummed, your singing voice sweet. When you walked it was like you were floating with the grace you exhibited.

And worst of all, you were kind. To everyone. Including her.

“And I’m sure they’re beautiful but I’m at my worst in the morning I’m afraid,” you said.

Lesso filed that fact away for later use.

“Well, perhaps we could take that midnight stroll,” he said, turning a touch cajoling.

She could understand his desperation to secure your undivided attention on a romantic stroll. She’d noticed the way people looked at you when walking the halls, in meetings, on arrival day. People were drawn to you, most likely due to your wide smile and the pretty fluttering of your eyelashes. A less cynical person would describe you as beautiful and engaging.

She never would.

“Unfortunately Lady Lesso keeps me working all hours of the night,” you said, presumably trying to let him down nicely. She rolled her eyes. The more prudent course of action would have been to give him a dressing down until he felt so low about himself he would never bother you again.

“Is she awful to work with? I’ve always assumed she is,” he said.

Lesso held her breath, wanting to hear your answer, refusing to miss a single syllable.

“Lady Lesso is a genius. There is no one in this school who could do what she does. It’s a privilege to work so closely with her, and I’m grateful to be able to serve her. Isn’t that what all of us want? To put more villainy out into the world? To triumph over good? If anyone is going to bring about our success it will be her. I really believe that. So if I have to work long hours then it’s all worth it. I love this job. Any sacrifices are worth it.”

Your entire speech held far more passion and emotion than any other answer you’d given him, the witless man that asked you to join him in the moonlight. Too much so? She couldn’t rule it out as a performance, assuming she might be listening in on your conversation.

She wasn’t sure what happened then. A soft mumbling, footsteps, the chatter of students sweeping past. She sighed, returning to her desk to find the stack of paperwork no smaller and her coffee cooled. Her nose wrinkled as she took a sip of the lukewarm liquid. She could demand you make her a new one, but then you would not be there to keep an eye on. You’d be loose in her school and who would be able to say what you were doing then. It was bad enough when she had to teach class, her mind constantly wandering back to what you were doing, what secrets you were uncovering, what devious plots you were concocting.

A soft knock sounded on her door. Your head poked through the door, a soft smile on your face, her heart thudding in her chest just at the sight of you.

“What?” she snapped, hoping to see some flicker of displeasure in you at her rudeness.

“Billious is here to see you,” you said, your voice almost a caress over his name.

“Tell him I’m busy,” she replied, nose wrinkling.

“Of course, Lady Lesso.”

Your head retracted for a moment for it returned, looking at her with an expectation that made her want to wrong your neck.

“Oh, and the books you asked for have finally arrived. Should I bring them through or would you prefer they’re brought to your chambers?”

“You figure it out,” she snapped.

That damned smile appeared again, knowing and intuitive. She felt a flicker of fear, wondering what you had discovered. The anxiety you inspired had to be stopped.

The door was silent as it closed, the creaks she’d spent so many years curating gone under your touch. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she cursed you over and over until you might be struck down by lightning outside that very door.

A loud knock on the door had her jumping in her seat. Manley shouting through the wood. A hushed conversation on the other side. What sounded like a boot kicking the door. An admonishment. Then silence.

In less than thirty seconds you had taken command of a situation that could have so easily spun out of control. She ground her teeth, frustration sparking through her veins. You were the perfect assistant, making yourself indispensable to her, ensuring you were so enshrined in her life she couldn’t fire you. You’d wormed your way in and made it impossible to get rid of you. All by being wonderful at your job.

No one else could see your genius, but it was plain to her. You’d figured out how to function so far under the radar that no one would ever suspect you were more than the vapid woman you made yourself out to be. No one but her. She knew. And it rankled her more than she cared to admit.

You lived under her skin, every day a taunt to expose you, as if you thought she wasn’t smart enough to. It was a dare, your continued presence. You were waiting for her to break and she refused to.

It was all some sick twisted game and the only kinds of those Lesso liked were when she was the game master, not the player.

She watched you at dinner that night, your table manners impeccable, as if you’d been schooled next door. Your smile was friendly, inviting, and all she could focus on was how she wanted to ruin you. To turn you into a mess. To make you…

Well, she thought begging for mercy would sound sweet on your tongue.

If she found herself following you from the shadows as you returned to your post, flitting through moonlight drenched halls, almost dancing from window to window, then it was to watch you in your unguarded moments. You turned your face towards every window, smile soft as you looked up at the night sky. She wondered what you saw up there, if you found pictures in the stars, if the moon made you dream, if you searched for a different life.

You paused at one window, facing towards the forest, staring out. Hands flat on the window sill, you lent towards the glass until your breath misted before you. Your eyes were turned upwards and inexplicably she felt the need to sneak up behind you and trace her fingers over your exposed neck. She wanted to find your pulse, feel it thrum under her thumb, feel it race the way she never could when she tried to menace you.

“You’re not chained to your desk.”

That witless man again.

A soft sigh passed over your parted lips and your mask slipped for a moment before you fixed your smile back on your face. The truth of it had her breath catching, both frustration and pity mingling together into something almost sickly. You turned towards his approaching footsteps, stepping out of the shadows just as Lesso could do. In contrast, she shrunk back, watching and waiting.

“I thought Lesso would have you kept like a pet outside her door,” he said. Something passed over his face, too quick to see, but ugly enough to make her curious.

“She’s not a monster, you know,” you said, your voice quiet, almost soft in your assessment of her, “I think you’ve mischaracterised her into the monster under the bed.”

“Isn’t she?” he asked.

“She’s far more subtle than that. Elegant. Wickedly intelligent. You won’t even know she’s five steps ahead of you until you’re already caught in her trap. It’s beautiful, the way her villainy unfolds,” you replied.

Bare shoulders shrugged and she found herself considering the line of your body. Relaxed and at ease. It must be some kind of facade. It had to be. No one was so relaxed in her school. Not even the teachers.

“You sound smitten with her,” he said, taking another step towards you.

“I’m not some pathetic Ever,” you laughed, “I know it’s what plenty of people here think but I’m not looking for True Love’s Kiss.”

“You can tell me if she’s forcing you to say these things about her. I won’t tell,” he said, giving what he must have thought was a conspiratorial wink.

Lesso felt her nose wrinkle, watching this scene play out in front of her. The insipid man trying to win your trust and you standing with a straightened spine and the smile dying on your lips. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen it so much as falter before.

“No on forces me to do anything I don’t want. Not even her,” you said, “especially not her.”

“What then? More pirvelleges? A place in her bed? Extra food at meal times?” he demanded.

Your smile was gone.

“Your loyalty may be so easily bought, Derrick, but I can assure you mine is not,” you said, the lightness in your voice vanishing the longer you talked. Steel was taking over. If you were anyone else she might be impressed.

“Loyalty?” he scoffed, “I think you just think you’re better than me because you’re Lesso’s little pet. You think I won’t risk my own ass by harming you. But you’re not better than me. You’re just a stuck up Ever.”

“You want to hurt me?” you asked, “go ahead. She won’t save me. And it certainly won’t make me go on that moonlit walk with you. I’m holding out for someone more impressive to ask.”

There was a glint off metal, a dagger in his hand that hadn’t previously been there, moonlight reflecting off the blade. Lesso found herself leaning forward, waiting to see what would happen. She’s never heard you speak so cruelly to another person and while she could sympathise, she didn’t realise you were capable of sneering at the unworthy. You usually met them with a smile and respect, two ideologies she refused to subscribe to.

The dagger flashed and a soft lavender glow lit the hallway. Dangling from one ankle, upside down and glowering, the witless man hung in front of you. He slashed the dagger towards you, a howl of anger coming from him. You simple stepped back, considering him for a moment, head tilted and lips curling up at the corners in an almost devilish smile. This was a side to you she’d yet to see, just another lie and secret to keep your true motives from her. The heart in her chest thundered with anger, the new knowledge burning through her.

“This is your one warning, Derrick. Try something like this again and I won’t be nearly so kind. See how easily I overpowered you? Just consider what I’ll do when I’m not holding back,” you said, voice turning silky smooth.

“You bitch,” he snarled.

“I’m sure one day you’ll be more imaginative too,” you said.

A wave of your lavender finger glow and the dagger was torn from his grip, floating into yours. You looked down at it, nose wrinkling in an uncomfortably fetching way. Tucking it away into your bodice, you looked down into his face, hovering somewhere around your navel.

“Trust me, Derrick. I am not someone you want to cross. Run along now,” you said.

With a lazy flick of the wrist, he fell to the stone floor in a crumpled heap. You watched him scrabble to his feet, trying to look composed in his rumpled clothes and mussed hair. Resentment. That was the expression that had flashed over his face when he’d begun the conversation. He resented you for everything he was not.

“You’ll regret this,” he said.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

You watched him flee down the hall with cool indifference before turning back to the window, your thoughts already slipping past him. Looking out on the night pressing in, you sighed, relaxing again as if the altercation had never happened. A small smile ticked your lips up, bright and joyful, head tipping back in the moonlight.

“You can stop lurking in the shadows,” you said.

She stepped out, cane clicking on the floor, a sign for those in the immediate area to begin panicking. You didn’t even turn in her direction, the only indication you were aware of her presence the flutter of your eyes opening. She stopped at your shoulder, looking out on the forest, wondering what creatures might be lurking out there.

“Who are you?” she asked, voice harsh when compared to you.

“Your assistant. Nothing more, nothing less,” you replied.

“No one is that loyal to me,” she said, voice barely more than a rasp when it came from her lips.

You had to be a rival. You had to be. She couldn’t handle it if all her instincts were so wrong about you.

She raised her hand, not sure what she was going to do. You turned, finally, looking up into her eyes. That damned smile was still in place, softening when you looked at her. Fingers curled around your neck, her thumb rested against your pulse, just as she’d dreamed of doing. It thrummed under her touch despite your calm exterior.

She pushed you back until your back hit the glass of the window. You shivered, making her smirk grow. Your discomfort was her pleasure.

“No more lies.” She felt out of control, her perfect veneer slipping.

“I’ve never lied to you once, Lady Lesso,” you said, sounding so calm despite her hand wrapped around your neck.

“You want to destroy me,” she snarled, her face drawing closer.

“I want to serve you,” you replied on a sigh.

She pressed you more insistently against the glass, her fingers tightening. She could imagine the bruises blooming over your skin, the pretty canvas holding her art. And what a masterpiece you would make.

“You’re nothing,” she spat, “a pathetic spy who can’t even notice when you’re the one being watched.”

“I always know when you’re watching me,” you replied.

“You can’t,” she snarled.

“I can,” you said, not shying away from the rage on her face or the pressure of her fingers on your windpipe, “when it’s you, I always know.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, voice tight.

You were staring up at her with those wide eyes, sparkling. Teeth sunk into your bottom lip, keeping you from giving her one of your patent smiles and she was so aware of the knife hidden in your bodice. One of your hands reached up, gently curling around her wrist, skin to skin. Lightning flowed from the point of contact and she flinched.

“You must be my enemy,” she said, but her voice was losing its harsh edge, “you must be.”

“Why must I be?” you asked.

Your fingertips brushed the vulnerable skin of her inner wrist and she snatched it back, leaving your throat bare and her skin tingling, cane clattering to the ground from the other. You kept your back pressed to the window, watching her with an openness that made her skin itch.

“You pay close attention to me. What other reason if not to find my weaknesses?” she said, sounding less sure of herself with every passing word.

“Can you really think of no other reason I might be paying such close attention to you?” you asked and she could hear how amused you were.

“That’s the only reason you’d do that,” she said, her hand slamming into the window beside your head, rattling the glass in its frame. You didn’t flinch.

“It’s not why you’ve been paying such close attention to me,” you said, “it’s not why I scare you.”

“You don’t scare me,” she replied, almost on autopilot.

“No?”

Your hand reached up, finger wrapping itself in one of her fiery curls. Her heart thudded and she waited for the pull.

Eye fluttering shut, she felt your other hand came up, fingers ghosting over her lips. She was going to die. You were going to kill her and she wouldn’t be meeting Death with her eyes open. Her breath was dragged from her lungs and she thought she might collapse.

“I think you’re terrified,” you murmured, fingertip tracing the shape of her lips.

She couldn’t argue. Her pulse was racing, heart thumping, and all she could focus on was the path your finger was taking. She knew you’d be her downfall but she’d never expected it to feel so soft, as if she had permission to sink into your devastating touch.

Your finger disappeared and she didn’t have time to readjust before something soft ghosted over her lips. Her eyes shot open, finding you so close, your lips pressing more insistently. She felt herself coming apart at the seams. Her eyes fluttered shut again as your tongue traced the seam of her lips. You tasted of sugar and spice and everything nice. It made her blood boil.

Her hands grasped your hip, and she pushed your body back. She took control of the kiss, teeth sinking into your lip until copper burst on her tongue. You made a small whimpering noise and she felt drunk, under a spell, enchanted. Your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to make her feel her sanity slip away.

She drew away, your lips painted red with your own blood. They tugged up into a smile and she groaned, kissing you again. You sunk into it, the soft sigh too sweet for her. She pushed her leg between yours, feeling your heat through the layers of cloth. You moaned, fingers tightening in her curls with a sharp tug.

Maybe her feelings towards you were less about taking you down and more about going down on you.

She tore her mouth from yours, panting hard as her eyes darted wildly over your face. You were looking up into her face, lips kiss swollen and eyes glassy. She could see your chest heaving and she took a step back. If she didn’t, she wasn’t sure she could stop and if she didn’t stop she wasn’t sure she would be in control anymore. She could lose herself in you, and you were right, that terrified her.

“What have you done to me?” came out as a breathless whisper.

Your chuckle was too close to knowing and she wanted to stop it. Her fingers itched to curl around your throat again, wanting the sound to cut off. You took a step towards her, the chuckle dying, leaving behind a small smile and sparkling eyes.

“Don’t come near me,” she snapped.

You stilled, freezing in place like she was some kind of frightened animal prone to startling. Her teeth ground together and a frustrated sound came from her lips. You waited, giving her the space to calm down and it made her want to scream. You were too accommodating.

“Don’t do what I tell you,” she snapped but it was less controlled.

“So I should come near you?” you asked, your smile turning into a small smirk.

“No,” she shouted, “yes. Fuck. What have you done to me?”

“Nothing,” you replied, taking another step towards her and she wanted to raise her hands in defence and blast you through the window behind you, “I think you just like me.”

“I don’t like anyone,” she snapped as a reflex.

“Then why do you stare at me all day? Why did you kiss me like that?” you asked, advancing on her until her back hit the stone wall behind her in the shadows she’d emerged from, “why are you still thinking about kissing me?”

“Lust isn’t the same as like,” she replied but even then she knew you had the upper hand.

“Maybe not, but you definitely like me, Lady Lesso,” you said, placing one hand on her hip, keeping her pinned to the wall.

“Your delusions are not my concern,” she tried to snarl but it sounded like a wolf without teeth.

“Then leave,” you said, “if I’m wrong, it should be easy for you to leave me here heartbroken and rejected.”

She wanted to push past you, to shove you out of the way, but she found herself unable to do it. Her hands landed on your shoulders but that’s as far as she got. Your smile turned into something soft and understanding and she hated it.

“Stop that,” she said.

“Stop what?” you asked. You blinked and your eyelashes were so long they brushed your cheekbones like a stupid princess.

“Making me feel these things,” she said.

“No can do, Lady Lesso. That’s one request I can’t accomplish,” you said.

“What kind of assistant are you?” she demanded but there was no heat behind it.

“The kind that does this.”

You lent forward, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. She groaned into your mouth, fingers sliding into your hair, tangling and tugging until she heard you whimper and press your body against hers. You nipped at her lower lip and all she could think of was all the ways she wanted to defile you.

“Fine,” she mumbled against your lips, “but you’re not getting a pay raise.”

“I don’t need one,” you replied, before kissing her again.

Maybe you weren’t trying to destroy her, but you still made her feel weak in all the ways that mattered. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Not if you were going to continue kissing her like that.

What’s a MILF?

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: none

summary: Wanda gets called a MILF, which should be flattering, but does she know what it means?

word count: 1.6k

a/n: think of this story as a bday gift to both myself and to you guys!! hope you enjoy it :)) also this was inspired by this lovely swan queen fic! 

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i love the concept of past lovers!sirius x reader godmother! reader and the just reunited an fluff and all

Reunited - Sirius Black x Reader

Summary/(A/N): After 14 years, Harry’s Godmother is finally reunited with her husband. I made this sort of specific to whatever my own mind came up with; (Y/N) is Harry’s Godmother, and has of course known the Marauders since their school days. She’s known Harry since the events of POA, and she took him in. Harry and (Y/N) have lived together for the past two years, and although Harry has met and seen Sirius, the most that (Y/N) has received is letters. Finally, in OOTP, they’re reunited. 

Warnings: None really, maybe a lil’ kissing scene <3 

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Tongue tricks?

A/n: another idea popped in my head so of course I’m gonna write it.

Summary: You're very innocent for your own liking.

Taglist: @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx

It was another day of the team movie marathon, and despite the fact that none of you were weary enough or ready to sleep the night away, you opted to take your time and just talk about the stories you had shared with each other.

The bickering and teasing filled your ears while you sat on the floor in front of the center table, cross-legged. Natasha was sitting next to you, holding one tub of ice cream and two spoons, one for you and one for Nat.

You scooped a spoon full of ice cream and licked the side because it was dripping, causing Tony’s eyes to look at you with a teasing smirk. You ignored their constant chit-chat and happily hummed to the cookies and cream you were eating.

“I bet y/n is great with giving a head,” Tony said out of the blue, causing a red-headed woman to glare at him.

You furrowed your eyebrows, not really understanding what Tony meant. “Giving a head? Why would I give my head? "you snorted. You find it funny to cut your head off and give it to someone.

 "Tongue tricks?” Sam gave you a clue, hoping you’d understand what Tony meant. It earned another stern glare from the assassin.

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SPENCEEE

Lose Control

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

Y/n frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, Y/n started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" Y/n pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, Y/n felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. Y/n never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. Y/n splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. Y/n never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and Y/n was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, Y/n let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

.

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?