#I can and will rant to the moon and back | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlazergazer · 11 months ago

Text

Separated

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: You could do a story where the reader and Anakin had something, but the order tried everything to separate them, and so Anakin wasn't there when she ended up dying. That will be the trigger for him to start doubting the order, and hating them, but it turns out that a reader from another universe, who is exactly the same as his, just shows up.

Warning: Angst! Almost character death, lots of swearing tbh my bad

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Changed the request just a bit hope that’s okay but obsessed with the overall premise! I’m thinking she needs a part 2 but let me know what y’all think!

There was something uniquely terrifying about a silent Anakin Skywalker.

Everyone knew the jedi had a temper, it wasn’t something he was necessarily subtle about, there were few who had been at one time or another on the other end of it, you included.

But Anakin’s temper always exposed itself in the same way. Yelling, pacing, ranting. There were a number of times you had sat down before him waiting for him to get his lecture out of the way, letting him explode like a volcano before being able to actually have a constructive conversation with him.

You honestly couldn’t think of the last time you had seen him as he was now. Quiet, still, contemplative.

Admittedly there was a part of you that wanted to poke the bear, to say something that you knew would make him explode, force him back into charted territory so you knew how to deal with the fallout.

“I just don’t see the big deal”

Still nothing, a harsh glare boring down on you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched so harshly you could see the muscle through his skin, not a word.

“You do stuff like that all the time”

Just the steady rise and fall of his chest as he took measured, deep breaths.

You were returning home a hero, the entire hanger had cheered for you the moment you touched down, a hoard of people circling you with congratulatory hugs the second your foot touched solid ground, and still somehow Anakin had the power to make you feel like you’d failed.

This was supposed to be your moment and still somehow Anakin controlled the temperature in the room.

“I told you to turn back”

You’d stopped expecting him to speak, so thrown off by the sudden change you physically jumped at the sound of his voice, at how unexpectedly quiet it was.

“That was the wrong call and you know it”

Anakin took a deep breath at your response, his gaze cutting suddenly to the left, a moment passing as he collected himself before responding, that act alone almost making you faulter.

“If it was the wrong call I wouldn’t have made it. I told you to turn back”

“And you aren’t my reporting officer”

“This isn’t a game Y/N!”

The sudden explosion from the man would have surprised you if you hadn’t been unconsciously waiting for it, coiled like a spring waiting for Anakin to snap, waiting for him to yell, a weird weight lifting off your chest as you returned to normalcy.

“I know this isn’t a game do you?” You shot back quickly, just as loudly “He had coordinates, locations of nearly every battalion in the galaxy, information like that isn’t simply a pawn you can choose to trade away”

“Neither are you”

The response came too quickly, too quietly, too seriously for you to fully comprehend the words as he said them, your body physically recoiling at the sudden drop in temperature.

“I was fine”

“You were within firing range” he argued back, his hands coming down to rest on his hips as he glared at you “an entire separatist fleet was on the other side of that moon waiting for him to drag whatever republic ships he could towards them so they could shoot it down and you fell right into that trap”

“I didn’t have a choice”

“You had multiple” he shut you down without ever raising his voice, a single glare enough to silence you “listening to me for one of them”

“And if you had been in my shoes” you prompted “if you had been close enough to chase him would you have simply let him get away?”

“I would have-“ you scoffed before he could get the words out, seeing exactly where he was going before he got there.

“don’t lie to me Anakin Skywalker you treat risking your life as if it were a paying job”

You watched his jaw tick at your response, his words dying on his lips before he changed routs “I told you to turn back”

You let a humorless laugh bubble out of you, a frustrated hand raking across your face as you shook your head “I can’t believe you’re being so blatantly hypocritical right now”

“It’s different” his words came out so quick he seemed almost surprised to hear them himself.

“How?” you demanded more than asked, silently daring him to give you a legitimate answer you weren’t sure he could supply.

“I can’t-“ he cut himself off before he could finish, a huff escaping before he took a deep breath and continued “I need you to listen to me. When I tell you what to do I need you to listen to me”

“Even if-“

“yes” he cut you off before you could get your question off “whatever context, whatever quantifiers I don’t care. Out there I need you to listen to me”

Again his tone was throwing you for a loop. Gone was the anger, the frustration, the ire. Now he seemed to be almost begging, pleading with you to listen to him, to agree, to promise something like today wouldn’t happen again.

But you had made the right call. That was what was sticking with you. You know what you did was risky, hell you could get behind even calling it a little reckless, but objectively it was the right call. You were talking about locations of every troop of clones in the republic in the hands of the separatist’s how could he not see that this was worth anything, that taking down this spy was worth everything.

“Ani what-“

“There you two are” a new voice interrupted you, the sudden appearance of Obi-wan pulling you back to the present moment, reminding you that you and Anakin were in the jedi temple, that you had just come back from a mission, that you still had duties to uphold.

“Master Kenobi” you quickly greeted the man with a small bow, watching the man you had practically grown up under break out into a proud grin as he clapped you on the shoulder.

“That was a great shot Y/N” he praised you shaking you softly “you saved the Republic today I hope you know that”

And though you could feel your chest warm with the praise you couldn’t help but feel a small twinge because of it, not missing Anakin’s small scoff at Obi-wan’s words.

Anakin was your best friend, a man you grew up beside as a padawan, a man you had been practice dueling since you could hold a saber, and you had just pulled off a major victory for the Republic. Was it really too much to ask that your friend take just a second to be proud of you.

“Thank you master” you responded warmly nonetheless nodding at him “believe me when I say it wasn’t easy”

The older man laughed warmly at your words, dropping his hand from your shoulder as he did “that I don’t doubt but believe me when I say we are all glad your maneuver paid off, what you pulled was risky”

You shot a guilty glance at Anakin only to see the man casting his gaze at the floor, arms snaked back around his chest physically distancing himself from the two of you in this moment.

“Anyways what I came here to say is that the council is looking for the two of you” Obi-wan continued on, either choosing to ignore or missing the tension hanging in the air between you and Anakin “you need to debrief before you’re free for the evening.”

“Of course master” you answered for the two of you “we will be right there”

Obi-wan gave you an appreciative nod before taking his leave, casting a questioning glance at his former padawan before exiting the room, casting you and Anakin in a thick silence you were tentative to break.

“Ani-“ you tried but he cut you off.

“Look we’ll talk later” he muttered over his shoulder, already making his way out of the room “we shouldn’t keep them waiting”

You could never feel comfortable in the jedi council room, something you were sure was done by design as you and Anakin were forced into the middle of the room, made the literal center of attention.

Even as you knew you were here to receive praise for your actions you couldn’t help but shrink beneath Mace Windu’s gaze.

“-you exemplified what it means to be a jedi knight perfectly today jedi Y/L/N” Master Windu droned on, his voice thankfully lacking the usual edge it had when addressing you with Anakin in the room “we thank you for your actions today”

“I was just doing my job” you responded humbly as you were expected to with a respectful nod “but I am glad to have been of help”

“Of great help you were” Master Kloon chimed in pulling your attention to him as he spoke “the republic owes you a great debt today”

You smiled politely at Mater Kloon, gaze again being drawn across the room as Master Fisto picked up where Kloon left off, a part of you wondering if they did this on purpose to disorient you “we do however have one question regarding this situation. Jedi Skywalker you tried to order Jedi Y/L/N back”

“I did” Anakin’s response was quick with an edge to his voice that had you mentally sighing, you weren’t eager to witness Anakin go up against the council today. “The spy’s ship had reached firing range of the rest of the battalion anyone who followed him was likely to be shot before they could reach”

“Called her back before she reached firing range you did” Master Yoda spoke this time, eyes planted solely on Anakin as he spoke

“She was far back from the spy’s ship, by the time she reached him they would both be within firing range” Anakin countered through gritted teeth, you watched him ball his fists at his sides from the corner of your eye.

“That ultimately however proved not to be the case as she was able to take down the spy without any harm coming to her own fighter” Mace Windu spoke carefully, clearly organizing a path down which he planned to steer this conversation.

A tense silence passed for a moment, a staring contest passing between the Jedi master and the general before Anakin spoke “a miscalculation on my part then”

“It’s a good thing she ignored your miscalculation then” Master Windu offered dryly “we do however have access to the flight com logs. Would you like to explain jedi Skywalker why you ordered jedi Y/L/N not once but five times to turn back”

“Her pursuing as she did was a risk I wasn’t willing to make at the time master”

“Even when aware of the information that ship contained” Master Windu prompted with a raised brow “every troop location of the Republics army. Are you saying you weren’t wiling to risk the life of one jedi for the fate of this war Jedi Skywalker?”

“I don’t trade in lives Master” Anakin challenged back quickly.

“One life versus the lives of billions across the galaxy the math should be easy Jedi”

“we’re here to be Jedi knights not martyrs”

“And it is your duty as jedi knights to do whatever it takes to protect the republic as Jedi Y/L/N did”

“And if she had failed? If the inevitable had happened and she was fired upon the second she came within distance? What good would a dead Jedi knight have done anyone” Anakin was seething at this point, the familiar white hot anger you had expected to be directed at you earlier finally making its appearance.

“We can stop pretending this is about just any Jedi Knight” Mace Windu’s words had Anakin physically recoiling, effectively throwing him off course having the two of you furrowing your brows “there is a reason the jedi code forbids attachments”

“Master we haven’t formed an attachment” you took this as your chance to chime in, keeping your voice light trying to dispel any lingering tension in the air.

Master Windu’s eyes took a second too long to break from Anakin’s to meet yours, a knowing silence permeating the air as if he meant to let your comment hang in it “what happened today, any possibility of letting that spy go, cannot happen again”

You furrowed your brow at his vague response, eyes snapping back to master Yoda as he spoke up.

“not a punishment this is” he chimed in softly, looking directly at you as he did so “remember that you must”

Your eyes snapped back to Master Windu “master what are you saying?”

Mace Windu’s eyes bounced back and forth between you and Anakin for a moment before landing on the latter, another small silence stretching before he spoke “Jedi Skywalker and Y/L/N going forward are forbidden from going on missions together”

A stunned silence fell over you and Anakin, your eyes casting immediately to him only to see his disbelieving gaze locked on Mace Windu “Master you can’t-“ gone was all edge in Anakin’s tone, an almost pleading one taking its place as he tried to talk.

“The council’s decision on this is final” Master Windu cut Anakin off with a single raised hand.

“but-“

“You are dismissed jedi” The doors to the council room opened behind you before Anakin could get out any more than a word. Master Windu leaving no room for either of you to plead your case.

Numbly you left the room with Anakin in tow, your brain still struggling to wrap itself around what had just occurred as you entered the hallway and stopped against the wall, Anakin not missing a beat as he started to pace back and forth in front of you.

“You have to tell me where you’re going next I’ll see if I can at least be close” he was already talking a mile a minute, almost mumbling as if talking to himself rather than you.

“I can’t even remember the last mission I did without you” you mused quietly.

“Under no circumstances can you go alone either take Obi-wan or I’ll give you Rex”

“I can’t believe the council thinks we need to be separated”

“And call me every day even if it’s just to check in”

“Ani you know I can handle myself right” Your sudden direct address of him brought Anakin’s attention back to you, his pacing halting as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“After today?” He laughed bitterly in response.

“I came back today” you countered defensively, at this point beyond tired of this same argument “not a scratch on my ship I am alive and well”

“And you almost weren’t” finally Anakin exploded on you, vein popping in his neck as he yelled, a frustrated hand tangling itself in his hair as his pacing picked up once again “you got lucky. That’s it. What you did was dangerous, it was stupid, it was risky, and it only paid off because you got lucky and I feel like I’m going insane because how can no one see that? You are only here right now because you got lucky and there is no guarantee on that a second time”

“Or I’m a good pilot” you shot back angrily “I’m a good pilot and a good jedi who trusted her instincts and accomplished the goal. Is it really that hard for you to trust in my ability?”

Anakin physically deflated at your words, the full meaning of his own hitting him for the first time as he crumpled slightly “Y/N I didn’t mean-”

“No that’s just what you said” you cut him off “I get it you think I can’t handle myself and shouldn’t be trusted. I’m not sure why you’d want to be sent out on missions with me anyways”

“Y/N please” Anakin begged softly but you had had enough, cutting him off with a shake of your head and a sigh.

“No Ani I’m done with whatever is happening right now. It’s been a long day and I’m just-“ You cut yourself off with a deep sigh, taking a second to take a deep breath before turning on your heel leaving Anakin behind as you made your way back to your room, calling softly over your shoulder “I’m done”

You knew who was behind your door before he had even knocked. Could feel him lurking behind it. Afterall who else would be at your room this late at night.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, Anakin just showing up at your room. Sometimes it was to apologize, sometimes it was because he had a nightmare, sometimes it was because he could sense yours. It didn’t matter really because he knew no matter what he was always welcome here, you made sure of that.

It was why he wasn’t surprised when you opened the door before he could officially make himself known. The two of you looking silently at one another before Anakin wordlessly engulfed you in a hug.

You went willingly, melting into him as he wrapped his arms around you, not even bothering to exit the doorway as the two of you stood there and took a second to appreciate the feeling of being supported by the other person.

“You scared me today” the words were mumbled into your hair.

“It was a risk I had to take” you responded softly into his chest, his arms tightening around you at your words.

“I can’t-“ he cut himself off, readjusting slightly to tuck your head under his chin before he spoke again “I don’t like it when you do that”

“And you think I like it when you do” you responded with a laugh, pulling back slightly to look up at him, Anakin reluctantly letting his grasp of you go as you did so.

“I know I just-“ he sighed “I’m sorry Y/N”

“I know Ani”

Finally a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, a moment passing where neither of you said a thing simply enjoying the moment in each others presence before Anakin broke it “I mean it when I say I trust you just please, promise me you’ll be careful”

You smiled softly up at your friend, extending a pinky out to him “I promise Ani”

He smiled and hooked his pinky with yours, neither of you able in this moment to recognizing your lie for what it was.

He almost hadn’t answered.

That was the thought that ruminated in his head for weeks after.

You had called, it wasn’t your normal time to talk, and Anakin had almost ignored it, almost told himself he would call you back later.

Thank the maker he was never good at ignoring you.

Your face came up immediately on his hollow display, picture posed strategically to only show your shoulders and above. And even though a smile graced your lips the second he picked up Anakin could still feel it the moment he saw you. Like a punch to the gut, it suddenly hit him that something was wrong. Something was catastrophically wrong. How had he not sensed it earlier?

“Where are you?”

You had just chuckled weakly in response and any other time Anakin lived for that sound but not now, right now he needed you to answer “there’s nothing getting past you is there Ani”

“You were sent to the outer rim right” Anakin steam rolled ahead, grabbing his cloak already intending to hijack the next available ship. He didn’t care if Mace Windu himself was scheduled to be on it.

“That was two missions ago”

Your words halted him in place, Anakin freezing on the spot as he glared back at you, “Y/N”

“Anakin” Maker how could you tease him like this now? You were always stubborn and he loved that about you but right now was not the time to play with his emotions, not with all this at stake.

“I’ll go ask Obi-wan” he was talking more to himself than you at this point, mind whirling with every possible path forward.

He heard you sigh from the communicator but didn’t pay it too much mind, you could yell at him for it later, he would give anything to hear you yell at him later.

“It’s a direct shot to my abdomen” You sucked in a deep breath, gaze dropping to your torso with a grimace, looking at something Anakin couldn’t see “losing blood like this there’s no way you make it in time”

“You don’t know that” he was arguing back before he could properly process your words, his brain refusing to even allow for that possibility.

“I do Ani” you shot him a sad smile, bleeding out, in who knows where and still you were comforting him.

“No there’s got to be someone nearby, another jedi, a local, someone who can help” He was shaking his head, brain desperately clinging to any solution it could.

“I didn’t call you so you could try and solve my problems”

“So why did you call me then?” He knew he wasn’t mad at you, he knew you would know that to, but still he cringed at the way it slipped out, at the way you shoulders slumped slightly at his words.

“Do I ever need a reason to talk to you?”

And he realized then this was you asking for the only help he could give. He was planets away with no ability to reach you and you were asking not to be alone at the end. And even though it killed him he could never say no to you.

“Of course you don’t Y/N”

You smiled at that. A real smile, no undercurrent of pain or pity. Anakin found himself trying desperately to commit to the sight to memory.

“Remember when the council separated us because they thought we had formed an attachment?” You asked softly, head resting back against the wall behind you, your entire body rising and falling with each labored breath.

“Right now it’s hard to forget” he bit down the resentment, it wasn’t what you deserved.

Still you chuckled at him, wincing slightly as you did so “I think right now I have to admit they were onto something”

“I thought that was obvious when I tried to put the entire republic army at risk so that you would be safe”

A teasing roll of your eyes, a fond chuckle “shut up stupid I’m trying to have a moment here”

“I’m sorry please go ahead with your moment” a part of him resented how easy the banter came now, how easy it always came with you, it wasn’t fair.

“You’re my person Anakin” you practically whispered the words, Anakin’s heart swelling painfully in his chest at them “At the end of the day I will always choose you and for the first time I’m not going to condemn myself for thinking it”

“You picked a hell of a time for that revelation sweetheart” the pet name came naturally, he nearly choked on it as it fell from his lips.

You laughed in response, shifting positions with a grunt “Master Kloon did always tell me I needed to work on my timing”

Anakin chimed in before a silence could fully settle over the two of you, “Though I’m sure it’s obvious I will always choose you too Y/N” he took a small amount of pride in the soft smile that grew on your lips at his words.

“So what do you say after the war we leave the order?” You propositioned with a cheesy grin “You and me Skywalker”

It hurt how easily the answer came to him “where would we go?”

“I’ve always liked Naboo” How quickly your answer came made him wonder if like him this wasn’t the first time you had considered this exact scenario.

“I could get a job working on speeders” He proposed with a sad smile.

“I think I’d work at a cantina” you mused back “always thought it would be fun to get to meet people from all over the galaxy”

“It would be a good life” he could feel the truth of those words in his very bones.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, both lost in thoughts of what if, before you broke it “Thank you Ani”

“Don’t thank me” he protested weakly “not for this”

“Then for everything else”

Another short silence, a quiet plea slipping unbidden from Anakin “please don’t” he knew where you were going next.

“I have to” you answered softly, solemnly “I think it’s time to say goodbye”

“You don’t have to hang up” he protested “not yet”

“I don’t want you to see me like that” And again he was never one to refuse you anything, a final request he couldn’t say no to. “I love you Ani”

Maker how could hearing those words somehow hurt worse than not hearing them ever did.

“I love you Y/N”

A single tear slipped down your cheek and then you were gone. The newfound silence of the room suffocating him as the emptiness in his chest leached out to fill the space in the room around him.

The republic has fallen.

The jedi are no more.

The empire reigns in its place.

Anakin Skywalker is dead.

There was a lot you were told upon waking up from your medically induced coma that was hard to believe. A lot of news that was broken to you that was difficult to swallow. The fact that your entire life fell apart in the mere two weeks you were in a bacta tank was something you weren’t sure you were ever going to be able to come to terms with.

Being with the rebellion helped, to know that despite everything there was still a group of people out there who were willing to put everything on the line for what was right. To a certain extent it felt like being home. It helped you learn to come to terms with those four impossible facts.

So now how were you supposed to deal with learning that one of those facts was actually a lie.

You had seen the trepidation on their faces when you walked into the room, the way the entire groups focus was on you the second you stepped in, it almost felt like being back before the council, you would’ve laughed if they hadn’t seemed so somber.

Now you understand why.

As soon as the words left Mon Mothma’s mouth you felt the ground buckle beneath your feet, felt the world around you start to drown out, felt your legs threaten to give out from beneath you.

You would’ve given anything to hear those words just weeks ago, would’ve wept at the thought of being where you were now, but to hear them so shortly after you had tried to heal the wound was nothing but another devastating blow.

“You told me he was dead”

The group shared nervous looks and your every doubt about the rebellion came rushing to the surface. They were no different than the council at it’s worst, wiling to do anything to separate the two of you, willing to lie to make sure you stayed under their thumb, willing to keep things from you because they believed they knew better. Why did it always feel like you were working for the wrong side?

“We believed he was”

“Bullshit” the word slipped from your lips before your gaze could even meet the speaker’s, anger flaring from your chest at the words “a fact like that, as large of that, there had to be rumors, you had to have guessed”

“We didn’t want to get your hopes up”

A bitter laugh rose to the surface, hands coming to your hair in exasperation “I was told the very republic I gave my life for had fallen, that the very group I was fighting against are now in control, and everyone I had ever known dead at the very hands of the people I had sworn to lead and you didn’t think I could’ve used a little hope?”

“We thought-“

“That wasn’t your decision to make” you countered before they could finish, eyes daring the group to say something “maker how can you not see that it was this very hubris that led to the fall of the jedi? Of the republic? Just because you think you know better-“

“He goes by Darth Vader” a new voice jumped in, your eyes snapping to the holo-projection of Bail Organa, the senator’s eyes giving nothing away but pity.

“no-“ the protest fizzled on your lips, barely enough breath behind it to properly get it out.

“The source is solid” it was Mon Mothma again, eyes practically begging you to listen. “Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader”

And for a second your brain couldn’t comprehend it, wouldn’t comprehend it. How were you supposed to reconcile these two opposite people as one? “No that doesn’t make any sense”

“I’m sorry Y/N”

“No” you protested loudly, as if yelling could get it to not be true, could get them to admit they were lying, this this was all some sick joke “Someone is wrong, someone is lying to you-“

“The information is good” another voice interrupted but you were too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even identify who it was.

“No the Anakin Skywalker I knew wouldn’t-“

“The Anakin Skywalker you knew died the day that you did” Senator Organa cut through all the noise in your head, his voice loud but not unkind as he drew your attention, the entire world seeming to fall deathly silent after those words.

“What does that mean” your voice was quiet, broken, you didn’t have it in you to care.

“It was an open secret” he explained softly, the senator façade breaking just slightly “the day you were reported to have died Anakin fought with the Jedi council, fought with Obi-wan, no one could get him to calm down, to think rationally. Eventually he made his way to Palpatine’s office, he hasn’t been seen since”

“We all knew of his distaste for the council before this” Mon Mothma chimed in “he blamed them for your death, drove him right into the arms of the current emperor”

Your mind had slowed, had calmed noticeably but still you found yourself dancing around the issue rather than actually dealing with it, your thoughts instead deciding suddenly to stick to something else.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You watched them all carefully, noticing the nervous glances they sent towards one another rather than answer “I wasn’t lying when I said you were just like the former council, preferring to sit on information until it could properly serve your purpose so what’s the purpose this time?”

Again Mon Mothma took the lead, hesitantly speaking up “he’s formed a group with the sole purpose of hunting down and killing any remaining jedi. It’s quite frankly only a matter of time before he finds you”

You furrowed your brow at this “so you’re warning me? Telling me I need to leave the base?” you shook your head slightly, not liking how either of those answers fit before it finally clicked “you want me to stop him”

“We want you to talk to him” Senator Organa corrected you “if there’s anyone who can get through to that man it’s you”

You eyed each of them skeptically, knowing as you were sure they did as well, that this question only truly had one answer “I’ve been told twice in this conversation alone that Anakin Skwalker is dead.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself on the back of a chair “for all of our sakes I hope that’s not true”

Realistically you knew it was true the minute your ship touched down. Even if you weren’t conscious of it at the time you could feel that all too familiar force signature coming from the planet, seeping into your very bones.

To know it logically was an entirely different story.

You stayed hidden, following from alleyways and rooftops, you couldn’t make out the man beneath the costume but everything about him was just wrong. His gait was wrong, the way he held himself was wrong, the red saber at his hip was wrong, there was no possible way the man beneath the mask was that familiar jedi. And yet…

You couldn’t face him. You knew that. Even if it was Anakin under there you weren’t ready to find out, weren’t sure which answer would be more devastating to you.

So even though it meant failure you put your hood on and slunk away, leaving behind Darth Vader whoever he was, ready to tell the rebellion they would have to come up with another way.

You got little more than a flutter of a cape in warning before he descended upon you.

The black figure whipped around the corner faster than your brain could comprehend, having time to do little more than simply freeze in place before you were lifted off the ground by a force you were all too familiar with, invisible fingers tightening around your neck as you were lifted.

“You’ve been following-“ you got little of the figures voice through the mask before he suddenly cut himself off, the pressure on your neck easing just enough to allow you to gasp for breath, the world stilling around you as you looked out from under your hood at what was supposedly Anakin Skywalker.

The world stood at a standstill for a moment, you hovering inches above the ground, toes desperately seeking purchase, Darth Vader silently staring at you, hand held before him almost trembling. You were working yourself up to croaking out a question when his other hand raised suddenly and with a flick of his wrist your hood went flying back.

The second the light hit your eyes the force on your neck disappeared and you crumbled to the ground below in a heap.

Precious few seconds were given for you to gulp down breath before you were hauled back up by your neck again, this time an actual hand secured firmly around it as you were all but thrown against the wall, your head smacking against the brick painfully.

“who are you” even through the voice modulation you could hear the way he seethed beneath the helmet, ire barely contained by the black material.

“Y/N” you croaked weakly, clawing half-heartedly at the hand around your neck that held you in place.

His fingers tightened in response before he pulled you back and slammed your head once again against the wall, a soft groan escaping you at the impact “now is not the time for games now who are you”

“I’m telling the truth” you practically begged, unable to feel any shame in it as the edges of your vision started to black from lack of air.

“That’s impossible-“ you couldn’t really bring yourself to listen to the rest of the sentence, the only thing running through your mind was a grim acceptance that this was how you would die. Supposedly at the hands of the man you had once loved.

“Ani please”

And you hadn’t meant for the plea to escape you, barely even registered that the nickname passed through your lips. All you could focus on was the fact that after they came out into the open you had finally been released.

Again you crashed to the ground, hands splayed out to catch yourself before you could faceplant, lungs burning as you greedily gulped down air.

“Why would you-“ The words died in his throat and a strange, bitter part of you wanted to laugh.

Once you finally had better control of your breathing you sat back on your heels and looked up at the man clad in black before you, squinting slightly at the sun over his shoulder. “It’s true then”

He didn’t respond, simply looked down at you.

“take off your helmet”

“who do you think you are-“ again the urge to laugh surfaced, the way he reached for anger so readily was so similar to the man you once knew, how could you not have seen it earlier.

“Take off the helmet” He physically recoiled at the command. You softened your voice in response, practically pleading with him "I need to see your face"

Again the man before you went rigid, a tense few seconds passing in silence before he hesitantly reached up and pulled off the helmet.

The man standing before you looked somehow older than you remembered but unmistakably him, and every thought about your mission flew out the window the second his eyes made contact with your own. Your brain rejected the similarities outright, because despite being told Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker were one in the same you still couldn’t handle this physical evidence linking the two.

You reacted without thinking, taking a single step forward and planting your hands on his chest, roughly shoving him backwards, Anakin allowing himself to be moved without a second thought “Maker Ani what the fuck were you thinking”

His helmet slipped from his grasp absentmindedly, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest where your hands had just been as he just stared at you, eyes swirling with too many emotions for you to pin down at the moment.

“Palpetine are you serious?” You demanded more than asked, hurling the implication at him with reckless abandon “I always told you I didn’t trust him and still you-“

“You weren’t there” he cut you off and his voice was so soft, so broken it startled you into silence, your body physically recoiling back a step as he spoke “You weren’t there, and he was all I had”

“You had Obi-wan, you had Rex, you had people who cared about you Ani”

“They weren’t you” his answer back came steadfast and resolutely, leaving no room for argument, followed by a much quieter, more broken statement “they took you from me”

“No one but that weapons dealer took me from you.”

“They did” neither of you felt the need to define the ‘they’ to which you both referred “If they hadn’t kept me from going with you I could’ve-“

“You don’t know that” you cut him off, this argument feeling much to familiar “Even if you had been there we don’t know-“

“If I had been there then you wouldn’t have-“ and he didn’t need to finish his sentence, the natural end to it evidence that this was an argument he has already had with himself too many times before.

“I didn’t” you begged him to listen to you, “I’m okay. Ani I’m right here”

Your words seemed to shock him out of his own personal bubble, his eyes darting frantically around him before he seized you by the wrist suddenly, surprising you, as he started to pull you further down the alley “you need to go Y/N”

“What” the question left you on an exhale, his sudden change in attitude giving you whiplash as he tried to pull you behind him.

“You can’t be here you need to-“ he whispered quickly, frantically, almost as if the words weren’t for you.

You pulled back on your arm forcing him to stop “Ani I’m not leaving you”

He furrowed his brow at your declaration, a hand on your shoulder trying to nudge you forward still “Y/N do you know what the empire will do to you if-“

“I don’t care” you declared back, halting his movements once again, using his grip on your arm to pull his attention back down to you “I already lost you once, don’t make me do it again”

His eyes bounced desperately back and forth between yours as he set his jaw, you could practically see a million different arguments running through his head.

“Halt” a new voice broke through the tense silence, Anakin’s gaze flickering to its source above your head. You barely had time to gaze over your shoulder at the trio of clone troopers that had approached, guns drawn, before Anakin had sent the lead one flying rapidly into the wall with a flick of his wrist.

You tried desperately to hide your flinch at the noise of his armer hitting the building.

The other two froze on the spot, blasters still pointed at you, but Anakin ignored them both, hand still held aloft as he stared down at you debating his next steps for a precious few moments before he spoke.

You could see him physically morph as he addressed the clone troopers, could see him become that other man, that Darth, in the way he squared his shoulders and straightened his back, the way his voice dropped an octave, the way his grip on your wrist grew almost painful as his gaze bore down into yours

“this one is force sensitive, she comes with me”

#anakin x reader #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #star wars x you #anakin fic #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x y/n #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars x y/n #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x female reader

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juleswritesstuff · 3 months ago

Text

Sugar (and it tastes so sweet)

It started with an ice cream and a smirk. Now, Theo is on the verge of autocombustion. Who knew dessert would come with a side of thirst ?

theo nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Ice cream is cold.

He knows it is. Everyone knows it.

It’s a fact. A universal knowledge. An undeniable truth.

It’s fucking science, or whatever.

He doesn’t care. He can’t think straight right now. Can’t form a singular thought that would make sense.

Because the way you’re eating that sweet, freezing, and addictive treat, sure does the opposite of cooling him down.

It burns him alive.

Theo sits across from you, one arm draped over the back of the booth, a lazy picture of nonchalance.

But he is anything but relaxed.

His fingers flex against the worn leather of the seat, nails pressing crescent moons into the fabric.

He is supposed to be listening to Mattheo, nodding along to whatever inane thing he is ranting about, but Theo can barely hear him.

He can hardly think past the way your tongue flicks against the ice cream cone in your hand, slow and unhurried, gathering the melting sweetness with a deliberate sort of attention that makes his breath catch.

“Mate, are you even listening ?” Mattheo waves a hand in front of his face, scowling.

Theo blinks, tearing his gaze away from your lips for half a second.

“Yeah” he lies, voice rough “Something about… a bet ?”

Mattheo snorts. “Right. You’re useless”

Lorenzo, sitting beside him, chuckles under his breath.

“More like distracted” his gaze flickers between Theo and you, suspicion glinting in his eyes “What’s got you so out of it, Nott ?”

Theo clenches his jaw. “Nothing”

But it’s not nothing.

It’s you.

You, who take another lick of your ice cream, lips wrapping around the tip of the cone with obscene slowness.

It’s purposeful now.

He knows it is.

Because your eyes flick to his through the dark fringe of your lashes, gleaming with something wicked.

Your tongue darts out again, a teasing little flick, and then you hum. Just a soft sound, barely a murmur of pleasure, but it makes heat slam into his gut like a punch.

Theo grips his knee so tightly he might bruise himself.

His cock twitches in his jeans, stiffening as filthy thoughts barrel into his mind.

He tries –Merlin, he really fucking tries– to focus on something else. Anything else. The chatter around him, the clinking of glasses, the buzz of conversation.

But all he can think about is your mouth. That pretty, sinful mouth and all the things it could be doing to him instead.

“Something wrong, Theo ?” your lips curl, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

Of course you do.

You’re a menace. A goddamn siren sent to drive him mad.

He grits his teeth. “No”

You tilt your head, eyes sparkling.

“You sure ?” another slow lick, the tip of your tongue flicking against the melting ice cream “You seem… distracted”

Enzo raises a brow. “That’s what I said”

Theo exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m fine” he mutters, his voice tight, strained.

But you aren’t done yet.

No, because now you’re letting the ice cream melt, a single drop slipping past your lips, trailing down your wrist.

You sigh as you lick it up, slow and languid, the pink of your tongue gliding against your skin in a way that is absolutely fucking indecent.

Theo swears under his breath. His jaw clenches so hard it aches.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Not here. Not in public. Not when he’s surrounded by your friends, his friends, who are all oblivious to the absolute torment he is in.

He wants to grab you. Drag you out of this booth, press you up against the nearest wall, and shove his fingers into that sinful mouth of yours just to see how far you’ll take this little game. Just to see if you’ll still have that smug look when he’s ruining you.

Your eyes sparkle, like you can read his mind. Like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

And then –oh, you absolute devil– you moan.

Softly. Barely more than a whisper.

But it’s enough. Enough to make his cock throb against his zipper. Enough to have his hands curling into fists, digging his nails into his palms as he fights for control.

Mattheo and Lorenzo keep talking, oblivious, something about Pansy and Blaise owing them ten Galleons over a Quidditch match. But Theo doesn’t hear a word of it.

He grits his teeth, trying to school his features into something remotely neutral, but it’s useless.

When he dares look back at you, you’re still at it, your lips now wrapped around the tip of the cone, tongue flicking out to lap at the edges.

Your cheeks hollow ever so slightly as you suck, and Theo’s vision goes white for a second.

He is going to fucking die.

You pull away, just a little, tongue running along your bottom lip, tasting the sweetness there.

Your gaze flicks to his, and you tilt your head, all wide-eyed innocence.

“Are you sure you're ok ?” you press, eyes locked onto his “Because you seem a little hot”

Lorenzo snickers. “Yeah, mate. You’re flushed”

Theo clenches his jaw, reaching for his drink just to have something to do with his hands. He takes a long sip, the cold liquid doing nothing to quell the heat burning through him. “It’s warm in here. That's all”

You hum, unconvinced. “Right”

Then you take another long, languid lick of the ice cream, and fuck, he’s going to lose his mind.

Mattheo rolls his eyes. “I swear, you two are weird”

He turns back to Lorenzo, shaking his head.

Theo exhales slowly, trying to compose himself. But you don’t let him.

Of course you don’t.

You lean in just a fraction, lowering your voice. “You look like you’re about to break”

Theo gives you a sharp, warning look.

“Keep pushing” he murmurs, voice low, dark “See what happens”

Your lips curl. “Is that a promise ?”

Oh, you little–

He swallows hard, dragging a hand over his mouth.

He is going to ruin you.

But not here. Not now. Not when he’s one breath away from losing all self-restraint in front of his friends.

You take one final, exaggerated lick of your ice cream before giving him a look so sweet, so utterly full of feigned innocence, that it takes everything in him not to wipe that smirk off your face in the most sinful way possible right then and there.

Instead, he just smiles –sharp, dangerous, a silent promise.

You want to play, little vixen ? Fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t planned on teasing him.

Really, you hadn’t.

At first, you were just enjoying your ice cream, sitting comfortably in your seat, not thinking much of anything if not the heavenly sweetness coating your tastebuds.

But then you felt it. It was impossible not to.

That look.

The one that scorches, that lingers, that says a million filthy things without a single word being spoken. The one that makes your skin tingle, your stomach twist, your breath hitch ever so slightly.

Theo’s always looked at you like that –like he’s starving– but tonight ? Tonight, there’s something different about it.

Something darker.

Hungrier.

And maybe that’s what does it.

Maybe that’s why, when you catch him watching you, his fingers flexing like he’s physically restraining himself, you decide –on a whim, really– to be a menace.

You can tell he’s suffering.

It’s in the way his jaw keeps clenching, the way his fingers twitch against his thigh like he’s refraining from doing something reckless.

Like grabbing you.

Like dragging you away from the table and pressing you up against the nearest wall.

Like claiming you right here, right now, in front of everyone.

And honestly ? The thought is thrilling.

Because Theo isn’t patient. Not really.

Oh, he can pretend to be. Can put on that mask of cool, effortless indifference like it’s second nature.

But beneath it ? Beneath all that carefully controlled composure ? He’s pure fire.

And right now, that fire is smoldering.

You can see it in his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded as they track every move you make. In the way he watches the slow, deliberate drag of your tongue over the ice cream, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. In the way his hands clench into fists every time you shift just a little closer, teasing the space between you, making it smaller and smaller.

God, he’s trying. He really is.

But you can tell.

You can feel it.

He’s going to break.

The ice cream is almost gone now, but you’re still teasing him, still testing the limits of his patience.

Theo drums his fingers against his leg, watching you with the kind of intensity that should set you on fire.

Maybe it does. Maybe that’s why your smirk has turned into something softer, something more dangerous.

You’re playing a game.

But you don’t realize that Theo never plays to lose.

“Alright, that’s it” he mutters under his breath, voice just low enough for only you to hear.

You raise a brow. “What’s it ?”

His tongue flicks over his bottom lip as he leans in slightly, close enough that his breath fans against your cheek. “You keep this up, and I’m going to have to do something about it, bambolina”

Your stomach flips.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about”

Theo chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “Oh, you’re such a liar”

Mattheo, who has been watching the two of you with barely concealed amusement and a slight hint of disgust, suddenly claps a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Alright, mate, I can’t take it anymore. Either you stop, or get up and leave so you can finally, royally fuck each other's brains out, ok ? Or I swear to Merlin, I’m going to throw something at you”

Theo glares at him. “Fuck off”

Lorenzo frowns, glancing between the two of you. “Wait, what’s going on ?”

Mattheo smirks. “You didn't notice ? Our boy here has been eye-fucking Y/n for the past ten minutes and doing a shit job at pretending otherwise”

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip as Theo scowls and hisses a “Shut the fuck up, Riddle”

Enzo blinks, then groans loudly. “For fuck’s sake, just shag already. The tension is suffocating”

You grin, swirling the last remnants of your ice cream with your tongue before pressing your lips together thoughtfully. “That’s a tempting suggestion”

Theo clenches his jaw.

He is two seconds away from losing his mind.

Lorenzo emits another dramatic sigh. “Merlin, just put him out of his misery”

You glance at Theo, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Should I ?”

His fingers flex. His patience is gone, shattered by your relentless teasing and the way his friends are making it worse.

His lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk.

Your breath catches, your thighs clenching together unconsciously, as if proving to him that you were indeed in a misery of your own.

“No,” he murmurs “I think I should put you out of yours”

His gaze trails on your figure, slow, burning with its intensity, until it stops at your crossed legs.

Mattheo groans, shoving his drink away. “Okay, I’m leaving. I refuse to witness whatever the fuck is about to happen”

Lorenzo just laughs, shaking his head as he follows Mattheo toward the bar. “Try not to get arrested, yeah ?”

Theo waits until they’re gone before leaning in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think you’re cute, don’t you ?”

You grin. A little mischievous, a little wicked. “I know I am”

His hand slides under the table, brushing against your thigh. It’s barely a touch, but it sends a shiver up your spine.

“You’ve been playing all night,” his fingers dance on your denim clad skin, light, almost innocent “time to find out if you can handle losing”

Your pulse spikes, heat curling in your stomach. “Seems to me, I’m winning instead”

Theo’s smirk deepens, his fingers squeezing your thigh just enough to send a rivulet of heat down your spine. “We’ll see about that”

You exhale sharply, and he leans in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Let’s go”

It’s not a request.

Your breath hitches.

Theo’s fingers are still on your thigh, warm and firm, a silent promise of everything that’s coming.

You should make him work for it. You should smirk, tease him just a little more.

But the look in his eyes ? Dark, hungry, impatient ?

It makes you want to follow him without a second thought.

“Where ?” you murmur, voice softer now.

His thumb strokes your leg, slow, deliberate. “Somewhere I can shut you up properly, and make good use of that teasing little mouth of yours”

Heat pools in your stomach. Your tongue flicks over your bottom lip, and Theo’s gaze drops to your mouth, his pupils blown wide.

“Tempting” you hum, letting the word drip from your lips like honey.

His jaw tightens. “Get up, sweetheart”

Oh. That was definitely not a request.

You’re about to stand when–

“You cannot be serious”

Mattheo’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

Theo exhales sharply, turning to face him with a glare. “What ? Didn’t you say you were leaving ?”

Mattheo throws his hands up. “I left for five minutes to go pay for your horny ass, you wanker. And you’re already about to drag her off to Merlin knows where ? Fucking hell, are you an animal or a man ?”

Lorenzo, standing beside him with a drink in hand, smirks. “Told you he wouldn’t last”

You fight the urge to laugh, but Theo is not amused. His hand leaves your thigh, and you instantly miss the warmth.

“Are you done ?” he deadpans.

Mattheo scoffs.

“No, actually. Because this-” he gestures between the two of you, his expression a grimace that makes it almost impossible for you to hold the laugh threatening to slip out “-is disgusting to witness. And I would really like to keep my appetite”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re the one interrupting us”

Lorenzo takes a sip from his glass, his mouth curling against the rim as he watches the exchange like it’s the best entertainment he’s had in weeks. “She’s got a point”

Mattheo groans. “Fine, whatever. Go. Be gross. Anything but witnessing live porn”

Theo doesn’t even acknowledge him. His hand is already back on your leg, his fingers gripping just a little tighter.

You let that tension stretch between you, let it build, let him wait–

Then, without a word, you stand.

Theo follows immediately, his hand finding the small of your back as he steers you away from the booth, away from your smirking friends, away from everything that isn’t him.

You hear a distinct “Worse that fucking rabbits, man. I swear” coming from Mattheo, and the heartfelt laugh Enzo lets out right after.

But you don’t focus on it. You can’t.

Your heart is pounding. The air between you is thick with anticipation.

The second you step outside, Theo is on you.

His hand grips your waist, pulling you flush against him, his other hand tilting your chin up as his lips crash into yours.

It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s desperate, full of all the tension that’s been brewing all night.

You moan against his mouth, and that’s all it takes for him to lose the last shred of restraint he had left.

He presses you back against the nearest wall, his body a solid, burning heat against yours.

His lips move against yours like he’s been starving for this, like he’s making up for every second he had to sit there and watch you tease him.

You tug at his hair, and he groans, the sound vibrating through you. His hands are everywhere –your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt just to feel your skin.

“Theo” you gasp between kisses.

His lips trail down your jaw, his teeth grazing your neck.

“This is your fault” he murmurs, his voice rough.

You shiver. “Oh ?”

He nips at your pulse point, soothing the sting with his tongue. “You started this. Now you’re going to deal with the consequences”

Your breath stutters. “And what are these consequences ?”

Theo pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous.

“You’ll find out,” he whispers “when we get back to my place”

Your stomach flips. Your hands grip his shirt, your pulse hammering in anticipation.

“Then what are we waiting for ?”

Theo grins –sharp, wicked, possessive.

“Good girl”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night air is cool against your skin, but it does nothing to calm the heat curling low in your stomach. Not when Theo’s hand is gripping yours, his pace unrelenting as he guides you through the dimly lit streets.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to.

His grip is firm, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you might disappear. Like he’s afraid he might wake up and realize this was all just another torturous fantasy.

You squeeze his hand, just to remind him that you’re real. That this is real.

By the time you reach his place, he barely gets the door open before he’s on you again.

You both may treat it like a game, a reckless race at who will fold first. But you know better than to think it meaningless.

You and Theo might be stubborn, but you aren't stupid.

This is more than what it seems.

Theo’s pace quickens. The fire in his eyes grows.

The second you step inside, your back is against the door, his mouth slanting over yours in a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs.

You whimper as his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans, can feel the heat of him pressing against you, and it sends a wave of arousal through you.

“You think it’s funny ?” Theo mutters against your lips, his hands sliding up your waist, pushing under your shirt “Teasing me all night like that ?”

Your head spins. “A little”

His fingers tighten, digging into your skin.

“Well, in that case” his voice is pure sin, his teeth grazing at your bottom lip “You’re going to regret it”

You shiver as a small, mischievous grin blooming on your lips. “I think I'll enjoy it, actually”

Theo’s eyes flash with something hot. Something scorching. Then he’s lifting you –effortlessly, like you weigh nothing– and you barely have time to gasp before your back hits the wall.

Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, and fuck- the feeling of him pressed between your thighs has your head falling back with a moan.

Theo takes full advantage, his lips trailing down your throat, teeth scraping, biting, soothing with his tongue. His hands slide up, kneading the plump flesh of your ass, elicitng a quiet hiss that gets promptly swallowed by his mouth on yours.

“You drive me fucking insane” he murmurs, his voice rough with need “You know that ?”

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. “Really ? I hadn't noticed”

Theo growls. Actually growls.

And then he’s moving, carrying you through the darkened apartment with ease, his grip never faltering. You barely register when he kicks open a door before you’re being thrown onto his bed.

You have little time to catch your breath before he’s on you again, hovering over you, his body a mess of heat and tension and barely restrained control.

But not for long.

Not anymore.

He presses a knee between your legs, pushing them apart, and damn, the exquisite and very much needed pressure makes you gasp.

Theo smirks. “Look at you”

Your breath comes in short, ragged pants. “What about me ?”

His fingers trace up your thigh, featherlight, teasing.

“You’re shaking” his lips brush against your ear, his voice barely above a whisper “What happened to all that confidence, sweetheart ?”

You swallow hard. “There's still too much fucking fabric between us, Nott”

Theo chuckles, dark and low. “Not for long”

And then he kisses you again. Deeper, hungrier, filled with every ounce of frustration, every bit of restraint he’s about to shatter.

Maybe that’s why it’s always felt like this –like every lingering glance, every near-touch, every sharp-tongued argument was leading to something neither of you could name, something dangerous and undeniable. Like that unspoken something between you two had never been a coincidence but a carefully woven thread binding you together, tightening with every stolen moment, every unspoken want.

Because it was.

It would explain the years of –poorly covered– tension.

The way his eyes had always lingered a second too long. The way his voice had always dipped when he said your name. The way he’d pressed too close in crowded hallways, in dimly lit rooms, in the spaces where no one was watching, his fingers brushing over the small of your back when he passed by, fleeting and deliberate.

And you ?

You had played with fire just as much as he had.

The way you’d nursed a drink at a party and let your tongue dart out just so to catch a stray drop, knowing damn well his eyes were on your mouth. The way you’d stretch in front of him, arms overhead, back arching just enough to draw his attention, just enough to make his jaw go tight. The way you’d let your fingers ghost over his wrist when handing him something, pretending not to notice the way his breath hitched.

It had always been obvious to anyone around you. This unnamed thing between you and Theo.

It wasn’t just stolen glances or accidental touches –it was blatant, undeniable, loud. It was the kind of tension that filled entire rooms, made people shift uncomfortably or roll their eyes because they knew. They all knew. And you didn’t care.

Because this wasn’t for them. It was never for them.

It was for him.

It was for you.

People commented. Of course, they did.

But you never cared. Not even a little.

Because it was never about making them see. It was about making him see. About testing him, pushing him, seeing how far you could take it –how much he could take– before he finally snapped.

You weren’t playing for an audience.

You were playing for him.

And Theo had played right back.

Your hands drag over the muscles of his back, tracing the shape of him, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. Your nails dig in just enough to make him feel you, to make him know that you are just as much a part of this as he is.

Your mouth finds the column of his throat, lips trailing lower, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin, to mark the path down, down, down.

Theo groans, low and wrecked, his head tipping back, his grip tightening around your waist.

His hands are everywhere –trailing up your sides, slipping under your shirt, mapping the curves of your body like he’s trying to memorize them.

He’s not rushing. No, he’s taking his time, savoring every second, making sure you feel everything.

Your breath stutters as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath it, palms warm and firm against your bare, heated skin. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers up your spine.

“You’re so soft” he murmurs almost reverent, dragging his lips down your jaw, across the column of your throat.

You arch into him, your body betraying you, begging for more.

His lips curl against your skin. “So needy already ?”

You glare at him, but it’s useless when you’re gasping under his touch, when you’re gripping his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You’re talking too much” you manage to breathe out.

Theo chuckles, his teeth scraping over your pulse point before he bites.

You gasp, your nails digging into his arms. “Theo-”

His tongue flicks over the mark, soothing the light sting before he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark, pupils so blown wide with hunger the blue of irises succumbs to the blackness.

“I’ll stop talking” he murmurs, smirking “But only if you beg me”

Your lips curl into a defiant half-smirk, yet your stomach flips. “You wish”

His fingers trail lower, teasing the waistband of your jeans, but never dipping beneath. His touch is maddening, just light enough to leave you desperate.

Theo tilts his head, watching you with a knowing, taunting smirk. “I can do this all night, sweetheart”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to give in. But he sees it. He knows he’s winning.

His fingers dip just slightly beneath the fabric, and your hips buck on instinct.

Theo groans.

“Fuck-” his voice is ragged now, the teasing edge slipping “-look at you”

You try to glare again, unsurprisingly failing.

“Admit it-” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours “-you love this little game, don’t you ?”

Your pride wars with your need. But then his fingers slip just a little lower, and all rational thought disappears.

You grip his shirt, pulling him closer, your lips barely brushing his.

“Please” you whisper.

Theo stills.

Then, ever so slowly, he grins.

“There’s my good girl”

No words should have that kind of power.

And yet, somehow, when they come from him –from that smug, devastating mouth– they do. They slip under your skin, wrap around your ribs, settle low and insistent in your stomach like they belong there. Like he belongs there.

Which is mildly annoying.

Because you’d like to think you have a little more self-control than this. That you’re not the type to get all breathless over two little words and a wicked smirk. That a simple ‘good girl’ shouldn’t make your spine melt like sugar in tea.

And yet, here you are.

Theo’s lips crash back onto yours, and this time, there’s no teasing. No control. Just raw, desperate need.

His hands move with purpose, tugging your shirt off, discarding it carelessly onto the floor, revealing your bare skin to him.

He doesn’t waste a second, his lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, his tongue flicking against your sensitive skin, making you gasp and arch into him.

You’re already on fire, every inch of your body begging for more, your hands roaming to his chest, tugging at his shirt, wanting him as much as he wants you.

Theo watches you with a dark gleam in his eyes as you pull his shirt over his head, throwing it aside and letting your fingers run over his chest.

His skin is warm under your touch, muscles tense as you feel him quiver just slightly under your hands.

“You have no idea how much I want you” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

He chuckles huskily, his lips brushing against your neck as his hands slide to your jeans, swiftly unbuttoning them before pulling them down your legs. You lift your hips to help him, but the moment the fabric is gone, he pauses, his gaze locking onto your body with such intensity that it makes you dizzy.

You shiver. “I think I have a pretty good idea”

And you really do. Because you want him just as much.

Your breath catches, your body craving more, but you know he’s savoring this. Every single second of it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he breathes, raugh and low —like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

His eyes dragged over you slowly, taking everything in like he was trying to memorize it, burn it into his mind so he’d never forget.

He looked at you like you were art. Real, breathing art.

His gaze followed the slope of your collarbone, the way your chest rose and fell with every shaky breath. And when it dropped lower, he didn’t even try to hide it.

He stared—shameless and hungry—at the way your nipples hardened under his gaze, the way goosebumps rippled over your skin like his eyes alone had touched you.

His fingers traced the outline of your bare thigh, just teasing the edges of your skin before moving closer.

“I’m not the only one” you exhale, your hand slipping down to unbuckle his belt. His body shudders as you slide it free, then undo his pants and pull them down along with his underwear with practiced ease.

Theo groans as you finally free him, his breath catching in his throat as you wrap your hand around him. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if your touch alone is too much. “Fuck- just like that”

You lean up and kiss him deeply, your hand still moving slowly, torturously, up and down his length. He’s throbbing in your grip, hot and hard, his hips jerking slightly as you tease him with just enough pressure to make him desperate.

Theo’s hands grip your hips, pulling you toward him until there’s barely any space between you.

“Making me lose my damn mind” he groans.

You smile, a little wicked, and stop.

He opens his eyes, his gaze burning. “Don’t you dare-”

You lean in and whisper against his lips, “Or ?”

He groans in frustration, grabbing you by the wrists and pinning them above your head, his body pressing harder against yours as the soft matress kisses your back once again.

“This kind of attitude will get you in trouble, you know ?” he warns, his voice hoarse, his breath warm against your cheeks.

“Oh my, I’m shivering” you reply, defiant and eager for what comes next.

Without warning, he shifts. Your heart races as he moves over you, straddling your hips with his knees. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly, deliberately, pulls down your panties, exposing you completely.

You’re aching for him. For the feel of him, of his body against yours, filling you.

He leans down, his lips brushing yours in a slow, teasing kiss before they move lower, trailing across your jaw, down your neck, over your collarbone.

His breath is warm, his touch even warmer as he moves lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your breasts before his mouth closes around one nipple, his tongue flicking teasingly.

You moan, your back arching involuntarily, chasing his mouth, and Theo groans in approval, his hand moving to your other breast, massaging it gently as his mouth graces you with the sweetest of suctions.

You tug at his hair, urging him to keep going, but he pulls back, his lips just inches from yours.

“Want me to make you feel good, baby ?” he breathes, his voice rough with need.

You nod, your heart pounding in anticipation. “Yes. Please”

Theo’s grin is dark and satisfied, and without another word, he moves lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, his hands parting your thighs.

“All mine” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive “Sei tutta per me” (You're all mine)

Your body shudders with the intensity of his words, the promise of what’s to come making your chest tighten with desire.

Theo doesn’t waste any more time. His tongue flicks out, teasing you with the slightest brush against your skin. Your hands dig into the sheets as he dips lower, his movements calculated and slow.

He’s dragging this out –making you feel every second of it.

You can barely catch your breath as he continues, every touch, every kiss, driving you further into madness.

You’ve never been more desperate for someone in your life.

Theo’s touch is slow, deliberate. Every movement, every brush of his lips against your skin is meant to drive you mad, to pull you deeper into the haze he’s weaving around you.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he continues his slow descent, his mouth following the path of his fingers.

Your breath stutters when his lips press to the sensitive skin just above your hip bone, lingering there, teasing. He’s savoring this –savoring you– as if he has all the time in the world, as if he isn’t already unraveling you with every passing second.

“You’re so beautiful like this” he whispers, his voice hushed, reverent “Falling apart for me”

His fingers tighten, a silent reminder of just how much control he has, just how much he’s enjoying this. And you–

You can barely think.

Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging, trying to pull him closer, urging him on.

He groans softly, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending another shiver down your spine.

“You’re impatient” he muses, lips curving into a smirk, brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh “Too bad I like taking my time”

You whimper, the fire inside you growing unbearable, and he knows. He can see it, feel it. How wet you are, how you are literally dripping with need.

And yet, he doesn’t rush.

Instead, he presses another lingering kiss to your thigh, his hands flexing against your skin, his tongue flicking out in a slow, lazy stroke that makes you shudder. He’s taking you apart methodically, savoring every reaction, every tiny gasp and twitch of your body.

Then, finally, his lips move lower.

Without hesitation, without another second of restraint– he leans in.

You barely have time to react before his mouth is on you.

Hot. Wet. Heavenly.

A sharp gasp is snatched from your lips as Theo groans against your skin, the sound low, wrecked, vibrating through you like a live wire. It sends a slow shiver rolling through your entire body, stealing the breath from your lungs.

But he doesn't rush.

No, as he said, Theo takes his sweet fucking time.

His tongue flicks out, teasing, tasting, barely there –just enough to make you ache, to make you squirm. His breath ghosts over your skin, hot and heavy, sending goosebumps skittering up your spine.

Your hands clench in the sheets, fingers grasping at nothing as he presses a slow, lingering kiss on your most sensitive spot.

Soft. Gentle. Torturous.

Your hips jerk instinctively, desperate for more, but Theo just chuckles against you, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

“What's the rush, bambolina ?” he whispers, his voice a deep, velvety tease “Relax. Let me enjoy you” (babydoll)

A frustrated whimper leaves your throat, your head tipping back against the pillows.

Then, with a calculated slowness, he moves. His hands slide down your thighs, caressing the soft flesh, warm and steady before he effortlessly lifts your legs, draping them over his broad shoulders.

The movement is seamless, effortless, like this is second nature to him, like you fit here, in his hands, against his mouth, around him. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty –only the quiet confidence of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly where he wants you.

The shift in position steals the air from your lungs, a soft gasp slipping from your parted lips as the new angle makes you feel open, vulnerable, his.

Theo settles between your thighs like it’s the only place he’s ever meant to be, like there is nowhere else in the world he wants to be. And the way he looks at you –like he’s on his knees before something divine, like he’s about to worship you in ways you’ve never known– sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as his hands tighten, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you steady. The heat in his gaze burns into you, heavy and full of intent.

You think he’s going to dive in right away. You need him to do something, anything, right away.

But he doesn’t.

He chuckles against your skin, low and knowing.

Instead, he leans in slowly, torturously, his breath skimming over your skin, teasing without ever touching. And when his lips finally brush against the inside of your thigh –just the lightest kiss, barely there– it’s enough to make your entire body jolt with anticipation.

He kisses his way up, each one hotter, more deliberate than the last, and you swear each soft press of his lips brands you, leaving his mark on your skin.

He likes this. Loves it.

Loves the way you react to him, loves the way your breath catches and your fingers twitch like you don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

He presses another kiss, lingering this time, warm and deliberate. Then another. And another. Higher.

“Comfortable ?” he hums on your skin, his voice a dark velvety tease.

The question is laced with something dangerous, something that sends a shiver up your spine. Because you know him. You know that smirk, that low, taunting lilt to his voice. You know he’s enjoying this –enjoying the way your breath stutters, the way your body responds to him.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

You don’t even have time to think of a reply, because he leans in, giving you the barest, laziest drag of his tongue, lapping at your folds languidly.

And, just like that, your brain loses all its proper functions.

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers flying to his hair, grasping at the thick strands, tugging slightly.

Theo groans at the feeling, his hands tightening on your thighs, holding you in place as he does it again –slow, warm, excruciatingly unhurried.

He isn’t giving you what you want.

He is giving you what he wants.

And, apparently, what he wants is to savour you like you are the last meal he’ll ever have the pleasure to taste.

His tongue moves with maddening patience, stroking, tasting.

He isn’t in a hurry. No, he is languid, thorough, tracing every inch of you like he has all the time in the world.

Like he wants to memorize you.

The sounds falling from your lips only seem to encourage him. He hums in satisfaction, the vibration sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through your body.

Your muscles tense around his shoulders, your breath hitching as he closes his lips around you and gives you a gentle suck.

A strangled moan rips from your throat.

Theo groans, low and satisfied, his grip tightening like he can feel the way you're falling apart under him. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers pressing in just enough to ground you, to hold you right where he wants you as he worships you with his tongue, his whole mouth.

You choke on his name, unable to stop the sounds that slip from your lips, to stop the way your body trembles beneath his touch.

“That’s it” he pants, his voice thick with desire, muffled against your drenched heat “Let me hear you”

A wrecked sound tears from your throat as he licks into you, deeper, slower, his tongue moving with excruciating precision—circling, stroking, dipping into you, dragging arousal from your body like a secret he’s coaxing out one breathless moan at a time.

Your hips jolt against him, seeking the friction, the pleasure, but he holds you down with ease, his fingers flexing against your skin in a silent warning.

“Easy, baby” he murmurs, lips dragging against you, his voice dark and dripping with amusement “I’m not going anywhere”

And then –God– he moans.

Low, deep, ruined.

Like he is the one unraveling. Like the taste of you is doing things to him, making him lose himself.

His fingers hold you tighter, his mouth pressing into you deeper, his tongue slow and sinful as he licks into you, savoring the taste, the heat, the way you tremble under him, around him.

“So sweet-” he rasps, the words slurred, heavy with hunger “-so fucking perfect”

Your breath hitches, your fingers tightening in his brown locks as he gives you another slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue.

Your body arches, your thighs trembling, but Theo doesn’t let up. If anything, he goes slower, letting you sink into the unbearable, maddening pleasure of it.

Your vision blurs, the coil in your stomach twisting, winding tighter, and tighter–

And Theo knows.

He can feel it, hear it in the way your breath turns ragged, in the way your body starts to tense.

“Come on, bambolina” he whispers against your soaked heat, tongue flicking once—twice—right where you need it, his voice nothing but smoke and heat “Give it to me”

He groans again, this one deep and satisfied, his fingers tightening, his tongue moving just a little firmer, a little more focused.

Until you shatter.

The pleasure crashes over you in slow, rolling waves, your body shaking, your breath stolen, your fingers fisting in his hair as your thighs clamp around his head.

Theo moans, low and approving, holding you through it, letting you ride it out as he licks you through every aftershock, every little shiver that rocks through you, soothing you with slow, lazy kisses against your skin, his hands tracing gentle patterns over your trembling thighs.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze meets yours, dark and full of pride. His lips are swollen, slick with the essence of your arousal, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

“Fuck- Y/n” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your cheek, his expression softening “You’re breathtaking”

You barely have time to catch your breath before he shifts, hovering over you once more, his body pressing into yours.

His tongue flicks out slowly, deliberately, dragging across his bottom lip like he is savoring your taste.

You can taste yourself on him, and the thought alone sends another wave of heat through you.

Theo doesn’t give you a chance to recover. His lips are on yours before you can even steady your breathing, stealing what little composure you have left.

His kiss is slow, deep, possessive –like he wants to remind you exactly who just unraveled you, who’s about to do it again.

He must notice the way your breath hitches, because he smirks against your mouth.

“You like that, don’t you ?” his voice is low, teasing, dripping with satisfaction.

You glare at him –what little glare you can manage while still gasping for breath. “Cocky”

He chuckles, dragging his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Confident” he corrects, nipping at your skin “And I have every reason to be”

You hate that he’s right.

Your fingers trail down his back, nails scratching lightly as you press your body against his. He’s so warm, his skin hot beneath your touch, his muscles flexing under your fingertips.

Theo groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as you shift beneath him, pressing right where he’s aching for you most. His hands grip your hips, steadying you, holding you in place.

“Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish” he warns, his breath uneven.

You tilt your head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Who says I’m not ready ?”

His gaze darkens, but before he can make a move, you act first. With a swift motion, you push against his chest, catching him off guard as you flip him onto his back, pinning him beneath you as you straddle him.

Theo blinks, surprised for half a second, before his lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. His hands instinctively find your waist, gripping you tightly as you settle over him, your weight pressing into him in a way that makes his breath hitch.

“Careful, tesoro” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement, his hold tightening on your hips “You’re playing a dangerous game”

Your lips curve. “Maybe I like danger”

Theo exhales sharply, his grip flexing as he looks up at you, his blue eyes burning with something dark and unrestrained.

Then you kiss him. Hard.

Not hesitation, not teasing. This kiss is desperate, hungry, relentless. Your hands tangle in his hair, nails dragging along his scalp as you move against him, pressing closer, feeling the sharp inhale he takes beneath you.

Theo groans, his fingers digging into your skin, grounding himself as you take control, as you match his intensity, touch for touch, breath for breath.

“You’re going to be the death of me” he mutters against your lips, his voice rough, strained.

"So dramatic" you grin, brushing your mouth over his again, teasing him "Don't worry, pretty boy. I'm not letting you die”

He huffs a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, you really think you’re in charge now ?”

His hands slide up your thighs, deliberate and possessive, a silent challenge in his touch. But you don’t back down.

Instead, you lean in, lips ghosting over his ear as you whisper “I know I am”

Theo swears under his breath, his head falling back against the pillow.

But you can feel the battle of control crackling between you like a live wire, a push and pull that neither of you wants to lose. Theo watches you from beneath heavy lashes, his smirk lazy, but his hands gripping you tightly betray just how much you’re affecting him.

His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths as your fingertips trail down his torso, slow, teasing, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. His muscles flex under your hands, inches and inches of sculpted perfection, every sharp inhale making it clear that you’re driving him absolutely mad.

But the best part ? He’s letting you.

“You look good like this” you murmur, tilting your head as you study him beneath you, his dark curls splayed against the pillow, his lips kiss-bruised and swollen “At my mercy”

Theo lets out a sharp breath, a half-chuckle of sorts.

“Y/n” he warns, voice rough, strained but still carrying his own personal brand of dark amusement “you really shouldn’t push me”

You grin, leaning down, lips ghosting over his jaw. “And if I do ?”

His breath hitches. Then, without warning, his hands shift. One gripping your hip, the other pressing into the small of your back as he suddenly rocks up into you, his cock –hard and aching, and waiting– sliding against your sensitive heat.

A startled gasp escapes you as fire coils deep in your stomach, the pressure of his body against yours sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, his weeping tip brushing your hyper-sensitive clit almost making you hiss as the line between pain and pleasure starts to blurry dangerously.

Theo grins. “Then I remind you who you’re playing with”

Your hands brace against his chest, your pulse pounding, but you refuse to let him win that easily.

You shift your weight with intention, a subtle, sinuous motion that starts at your core and ripples through your hips, drawing slow, deliberate circles. Every roll is unhurried, indulgent --crafted to tease. You move over him with featherlight contact, letting your slick heat trace the full length of his shaft, your folds parting with a silken glide that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Each pass sends a subtle shiver through your body, your breath catching as the friction builds in tantalizing waves. The smooth ridge of him slides perfectly between your lips, slick and hot, your body cradling him without yet taking him in —just enough to promise everything, while still holding back.

You linger there, gliding with aching slowness, letting him feel every pulse, every subtle flex of your hips. His head catches slightly at your entrance with each pass, coaxing a flutter deep inside you, making you ache to sink down —but you hold back, savoring the build-up. Your thighs tighten around him, your breath coming a little faster now as the friction grows. You shift just enough to press closer, your body hugging his, dragging over him in a slick, tempting glide that leaves no doubt about what you’re ready for—still, you stay just out of reach, keeping him right on the edge.

His fingers flex, his jaw clenching as he swears under his breath.

“Looks like I’m winning” you murmur, brushing your lips over his again –just barely. Not enough to satisfy. Just enough to torment. Teasing. Taunting.

Slowly, calculatedly, you drag your lips down his jaw, your breath warm against his skin. He hums, the sound low and approving, like he’s enjoying this far too much. His Adam’s apple bobs when you press an open-mouthed kiss just below his ear, lingering there for a moment before moving lower.

Theo’s grip on your thighs is firm but relaxed, like he’s settled in, completely content to let you play your little game. His smirk lingers, lazy and confident, but there’s a flicker at the corner of his mouth, like he’s fighting the urge to bite down on it. His stormy blue eyes flickering with amusement rather than frustration.

But the fire in them ? It could burn the world to ashes.

His chest rises with a slow, deep breath when your lips brush along the column of his throat, your tongue flicking out just slightly, barely a touch. You hum, pleased at the way his body reacts instantly.

"Impatient ?” you smirk against his skin, echoing his words from earlier, feeling the way his body responds to your touch, how he twitches in interest against you.

Theo chuckles, low and knowing, his fingers stroking idly along your thighs.

“Take all the time you want, baby” he purrs, voice smooth, teasing “I’m enjoying the show”

Your mouth continues its descent, down the center of his chest, over the ridges of muscle that flex under your touch. Your fingers follow the path of your mouth, trailing featherlight touches, and instead of tensing, he relaxes into it, exhaling a slow, satisfied breath.

Your lips part, your tongue flicking out in a deliberate stroke against his skin, tracing the sculpted lines of his torso, of his defined abs.

“Mmh” he lets out a pleased hum, voice thick with satisfaction as his fingers tighten ever so slightly on your legs “Teasing, huh ?”

You do it again. Slower. Lazier. Letting your tongue trace over his stomach before your lips follow, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses that leave heat blooming across his skin.

Theo groans softly, watching you through hooded eyes.

His hand slides up your arm, fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder before trailing down your spine. “That’s cute”

You pause, lips just above his hip, glaring up at him. His smirk deepens, his fingers threading into your hair –not to push, not to guide, just to touch.

You press another lingering kiss to his skin, your tongue flicking out just enough to make him exhale a sharp breath through his nose.

“Still feeling cocky ?” you murmur, lips ghosting over his skin.

Theo laughs. Slow, and rich.

“Oh, absolutely” he says, letting out a pleased sound. His thumb strokes over your cheek, his voice dropping lower, warmer “You look so pretty like this, baby. All eager. All mine”

Your stomach tightens at the way he says it –possessive, pleased.

“Go on” he murmurs, his other hand cradling your face, fingers dancing on your cheeks, your jaw, until they land on the plump and kissed-bruised flesh of your lips, the pad of his thumb caressing it reverently “Show me how good you are”

His body is relaxed, completely at ease beneath you, but his eyes. His eyes burn with satisfaction, dark and full of promise.

Your fingers trace slow, lazy patterns over his skin, your lips pressing teasing kisses along the sharp lines of his hip bones. Theo watches you, his head tilted back against the pillow in a picture of utter relaxation.

He hums, breath a little ragged, a slow smirk tugging at his lips “Taking your sweet time too, huh ?”

You don’t answer. You just glance up at him through your lashes, smirking, as your tongue darts out to taste the warmth of his skin, leaving a wet trail on one side of the sinful V his muscles form, the one that makes your head spin every time you get a slight glimpse of it.

His grin widens, content, pleased.

You bite back a smile of your own, choosing instead to press a slower, wetter kiss lower, your mouth lingering. The muscles beneath your hands tense slightly –just for a second– but Theo’s expression barely shifts. If anything, he looks pleased.

Until your hand wraps around him, fingers working slowly, teasing, torturing on his length, warm and rock-hard in your palm.

The groan he lets out comes straight from his chest, reverberating in the room, low and almost primal.

Your lips drift lower, tiny, barely-there kisses build a path of fire as you get closer and closer to where he is visibly aching, thick and full, a bead of pre-cum making his head glistening under the moonlight as you brush at the base of his cock.

Your mouth waters, eager. So fucking eager to feel him. To taste him.

Your breath ghosts over him, warm and teasing, and you hear the sharp inhale he takes, see the way his fingers tighten in the sheets. But his eyes stay locked on you, hooded and molten, a smirk tugging at his lips even through the tension in his jaw.

Your grip tightens slightly around him, just enough to feel the weight, the heat of him around your fingers. You give him a slow, deliberate stroke, your thumb dragging over the slickness at his tip, spreading it with a teasing press.

Theo’s breath shudders. “Fuck-”

You glance up through your lashes, your lips curving just slightly. “Good ?”

His laugh is low, wrecked. “Asking like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing, you little vixen”

You smile in satisfaction, pressing your lips just above where he wants them, letting him feel the heat of your breath, the anticipation, the unbearable tease.

Then you give in, your mouth parting as your tongue flicks out, barely tasting him.

Theo’s groan is instant, his head tilting back against the pillow. His fingers twitch like he wants to grip your hair tighter, firmer, pushing you down so he can fill your teasing mouth to the brim, but he doesn’t. Not yet. Instead, he exhales through his nose, controlled, measured, watching you with dark, hungry eyes.

“Come on, baby” he coaxes, voice velvety and rough “I wanna feel you properly”

You don’t make him wait any longer.

Your lips wrap around him, soft, warm, taking him in at an unhurried pace, your tongue pressing just enough to make his abs tighten beneath your hands. His thighs tense, his breath catching in his throat, but it’s the deep, satisfied groan that makes heat bloom through you.

His fingers finally sink into your hair, firm but not forceful, guiding just a little.

“That’s it” he praises, voice strained but steady “Just like that. So good for me”

Your body hums at the praise, and you sink deeper, slow and controlled, letting him feel every second of it.

Theo hisses, his head pushing further in the pillow, but his eyes snap back to you almost immediately. He’s watching you, his gaze heavy, hooded, completely captivated.

“There you go” he coos, voice gravelly, his fingers stroking over your jaw, slow, reverent “That’s my girl”

Your stomach tightens at the heat in his tone, at the way he’s utterly mesmerized by you.

He wants you to enjoy this. Wants to watch you take your time, revel in the effect you have on him.

You hollow your cheeks slightly, taking him just a little deeper, your fingers gripping his thighs as you feel him tense beneath you.

Theo’s groan is deep, guttural, his restraint slipping. His hand in your hair tightens. Not guiding, not pushing, just holding. As if he needs something to keep himself grounded.

“Shit- Y/n” he rasps, his free hand running down his face before settling back into the sheets. His hips twitch, just barely, and you feel the weight of his control pressing down on you “You have no idea what you’re doing to me”

Oh, but you do.

You can feel it right against your tongue.

You can feel it in the way he throbs surrounded by the wet heat of your mouth.

In the way his head brushes the back of your throat deliciously with every bob of your head.

In the way his hips thrust up just the slightest bit, chasing that exquisit friction you’re providing him.

“Jesus-” he groans, breath shuddering “Just like that. Nice and deep”

You hum in content, the vibration making him curse under his breath, and when you do it again –slowly, calculatedly– his abs clench, his entire body taut beneath you.

His fingers stroke through your hair again, his grip tightening just a fraction.

“Eyes on me, baby” he pants through broken breaths, voice soft and a little wrecked, yet firm “Let me see that gorgeous face”

Your stomach clenches, heat licking up your spine at the way he says it, at the awe in his tone. You meet his gaze, holding it as you drag your tongue over him again, slow, savoring, tasting the little veins scattered on smooth skin.

His expression shifts, something darker flickering in his eyes, something that tells you his patience is wearing thin.

“You’re too good at this” he groans, his head pressing into the pillow for a second before he forces his gaze back on you. He smirks, tilting his head slightly “Been practicing for me ?”

You pull back just enough to grin, mischievous and a little twisted. “Wouldn’t you like to know ?”

Theo lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head.

“Brat” his fingers tighten in your hair just slightly, not in warning but in promise “I will get you back for that”

But, for now, he lets you keep going.

You swallow around him this time, slow and deliberate, your throat contracting around the thick weight of him, molding to him, memorizing his shape, his taste, the way he fills you –hot and heavy on your tongue, stretching you perfectly, and drawing a choked sound from his throat and yours.

“Holy fuck-” he grits out, his voice wrecked, raw with need.

His abs clench beneath your hands, his thighs tense, his entire body taut, wired, locked down with restraint –but his grip in your hair tells you just how close he is to losing it.

You do it again.

Your lashes flutter, your vision blurring slightly, the sheer size of him making your throat burn, making your eyes water –but you don’t stop. You take it, every inch, letting him push just a little deeper, letting him feel just how perfectly you can handle him.

His breath shudders, his jaw tight, clenched like he’s barely holding on, like he's fighting that little voice in his head telling him to let go, and fuck your mouth the way he needs it.

Likes the way your lips stretch around him, how soft they are when they slide down over him again, slow and wet and sinful, like your mouth was made for this—for him, how you take him deep like you crave the weight of him on your tongue. Likes the wet, obscene sounds filling the space between you, proof of just how messy and unbothered you are about it. Likes the way your eyes flick up to meet his, all heat and mischief, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

But he doesn't. Because he likes this. He likes this way too much to make it end so soon.

Likes the way you're worshipping his cock, the way your tongue swirls around him like he's the best thing you've ever tasted.

He likes the way your fingers curl around the base of him, working in sync with your mouth, slow and steady. Likes the way your tongue flattens, then flicks, then swirls, like you’re trying to pull every sound out of him one by one. Likes the way you hum when he throbs on your tongue, like you’re pleased with yourself, with him, with this.

He likes the control you have —how he’s letting you take the lead, letting you draw it out, even when his whole body is coiled tight with the need to move. Likes the way you worship him without a single word, like you're showing him exactly how much you want him without ever saying a thing.

And fuck, he likes how hard it is not to come already.

“Christ, fuck-” he groans, his hand flexing in your hair before his other palm drags down his face, like he can’t believe how fucking good you feel.

You moan around him in response, and the vibration rips another harsh curse from his throat. His hips twitch –just barely– but it’s enough to make your breath stutter, enough to send a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach.

Then, just to tease him, just to watch that last shred of composure fray even further, you slow down.

You flick your tongue over him in deliberate, teasing strokes, savoring, dragging it along his length before circling back, letting your lips follow the path, sucking just slightly before pulling off with a soft, wet pop.

Theo lets out a rough, unsteady breath. His head tilts up just enough for his dark, stormy eyes to lock onto yours, the smirk on his lips unmistakable despite the wrecked look in his gaze.

“Oh, you little tease” his voice is thick, strained, but dripping with amusement “You think I don’t see what you’re doing ?”

You hum, your tongue flicking out again, tracing a lazy, torturous path over him before you take him back in, slow, savoring.

Because you know he knows. The way you flick your tongue, the way you lick and lap at his shaft. You're working him the same way you had that ice cream earlier –slow, messy, indulgent, like you have all the time in the world.

“Shit- look at you” his voice is low, reverent, almost in awe. His thumb strokes along your cheek, slow and possessive, his scalding gaze locked on yours, unwavering “So pretty- so fucking pretty taking my cock so well”

Your insides flip at the way he says it, at the wrecked pleasure in his voice, the pure satisfaction in the way he watches you, entranced, completely absorbed in the way you take him.

His control is slipping, you can feel it in the way his breathing turns shallow, in the way his thighs tense beneath you.

And then –just to test him– you moan again, slow, dragging your tongue over him as you take him all the way in, hollowing your cheeks, tightening your grip on his thighs as you hold him there for just a second before pulling back, slow, so slow, until your lips just barely brush over him again.

Theo shudders.

His hand flies to his face, covering his eyes for a moment before dragging down his jaw, exhaling hard.

“You’re killing me” he mutters, voice strained, hoarse.

You smirk against his skin, pleased, humming a shattered “And you love it” before diving in once again.

Theo huffs a breathless laugh, his hand moving back into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

“Can't argue with that” he murmurs, his fingers stroking over your scalp before tightening just slightly.

And then, as if testing you, as if daring you–

Theo presses in just a little deeper.

A slow, measured push, not rough, not forceful, just enough to make your throat stretch, to make your lashes flutter as another tear slips free, your eyes burning with the effort to take all of him.

Your hands claw his thighs, nails digging in, and he feels it. He feels every reaction, every little tremor, every way your body is responding to him.

His jaw clenches, his breath uneven.

“That’s it, baby” his voice is pure sin, husky, dripping with approval as his hips keep giving small, measured thrusts “Take it. Just like that”

Your chest heaves, your lungs burning, your entire body flushed with warmth, with heat, with the satisfaction of knowing just how much you’re undoing him.

Theo exhales hard, another groan tearing from his throat. His hand in your hair shifts, fingers stroking over your scalp in quiet praise.

“So fucking perfect for me” he murmurs, his voice low, wrecked, filled with something almost possessive. His thumb moves gently over your cheek, cantching the wet trail of a tear and brushing it away, his breath shuddering “Look at you. Goddamn masterpiece”

Your stomach tightens, something deep and molten curling through you, your own arousal thrumming through your veins at the raw desire in his tone, the way he watches you with a gaze so intense it makes your head spin.

And when you swallow again, just a little deeper–

Theo swears, his head tipping back, his hand fisting the sheets as his control starts to crack.

And you love it.

You love every second of watching him unravel.

He is close. You can feel it.

And you wait for it.

You work your mouth around him, lips stretching, tongue teasing, hollowing your cheeks as you take him deeper, eager for the moment when his control finally shatters. You can already imagine it –the way he’ll curse, how his hips will thrust almost involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of your throat as you take everything he gives you, how he’ll give in completely, no longer able to hold back.

You want it. Want his pleasure to take over you, to invade your senses, to coat your throat and replace the lingering sweet tinge the ice-cream left on your tongue.

But it doesn’t arrive.

Instead, his fingers twitch against your skin, a sharp, shuddering breath tearing from his throat.

Then, his touch shifts, trailing up, brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that is completely at odds with the way his body trembles.

And before you can even react –before you can take what you know is right there– his grip tightens just enough to lift your head, to slip from your mouth with a soft, wet pop.

Your lips part in protest, in frustration, your eyes flashing up to meet his.

Theo’s chest rises and falls unevenly, his jaw tight, his pupils blown wide with lust. But there’s something else there, too. Something almost wicked curling at the edges of his smirk as he rasps, voice wrecked yet teasing,

“Come on, baby” a breath, a pause, his thumb dragging over your swollen lips “I think you’ve had your fun”

Before your brain can catch up, Theo moves.

And suddenly, you’re the one beneath him once again.

His weight pins you to the mattress, his body pressing against yours, scorching heat sinking into your skin.

He’s still grinning –smug, knowing, as if he has all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece. And in this moment, in this drak room filled with soft breaths and pleading moans, you feel like he does.

You swallow hard, still catching your breath, but the way he’s looking at you makes something sharp and defiant flicker through the haze of pleasure.

Your lips curve, just a little, just enough.

“What’s the matter ?” your voice is hoarse, but you make sure there’s a teasing lilt to it “Needed a break ?”

Theo stills. Then he laughs.

Low, quiet, dangerous.

His fingers skim down your waist, a slow drag that makes your stomach tighten.

“A break ?” he echoes, voice thick with amusement. His hand lingers at your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make you aware of every point of contact “No, baby. It just wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly of me to fuck your mouth like a savage and choke you with my cock as I painted that pretty tight throat of yours all white, would it ?”

Bloody fucking hell.

That mouth of his is your very personal damnation –or the unholiest of blessings.

Heat slams into you, white-hot and unforgiving, your entire body tensing like it’s just been set on fire from the inside out. Your breath catches, thighs clenching uselessly, because fuck, Theo–

Theo just says these things, just drops them into the space between you like they’re nothing. Like he doesn’t even have to try to unravel you.

And the worst part ?

He knows.

He sees the way you freeze, the way your lashes flutter as your mind blanks, as your body reacts before you can even process what the hell he just said.

His grip on your hip tightens –just a little, just enough to remind you he’s right there, pressed against you, soaking up every tiny movement, every twitch, every shaky breath.

“Oh” His smirk is slow, lazy. Devastating “Oh. You’d like that, wouldn’t you ?”

Your pride claws at you, telling you to deny, to roll your eyes, to say something, but the words die in your throat. Because you’re stuck there, lingering in the wreckage of his voice, in the filthy, perfect picture he just painted in your head.

A soft, satisfied chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“Yeah” Theo murmurs, dragging the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, eyes dark and knowing “You definitely would”

The ache between your thighs sharpens, unbearable, and you hate him for it. Hate him for knowing exactly what he’s doing. Hate that he’s right.

So, you do the only thing you can do.

You bite.

Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shock him, enough to wipe that smug little smirk off his face as your teeth graze his thumb, as your lips close around the tip in a teasing, deliberate motion.

Theo swears under his breath. His fingers flex against your skin, and his composure –so damn steady, so infuriatingly controlled– fractures just a little.

Good.

You pull back just enough to grind up at him, eyes gleaming with something sharp, something defiant.

“What’s wrong ?” you purr, voice syrupy-sweet, pretending like your pulse isn’t going haywire, like the fire in your veins isn’t threatening to consume you “You look a little-” your tongue drats out to wet your lips, brushing the pad of his thumb once again with a featherlight touch “-shaken”

His gaze darkens instantly.

Theo stills.

It’s a split second –just the barest flicker of tension in his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes– but you see it. Feel it. The shift in the air, the way something sharp and dangerous curls around the edges of his composure, threatening to snap.

And fuck, it thrills you.

For all his smug little comments, for all his teasing and slow, deliberate torment, you got to him. You cracked that perfect, infuriating control of his, even if just for a moment.

But then–

Then he moves.

It’s sudden, seamless. One second you’re grinning up at him, victorious, the next your wrists are pinned above your head, his grip unyielding as he presses you further into the mattress. His body slots against yours, heat sinking into every inch of your skin, his thigh sliding between yours, pressing –fuck.

Your breath shudders, your smirk faltering for just a moment. Just long enough for his lips to brush against your ear, for his breath to ghost over the sensitive skin.

"Shaken ?” he murmurs, voice a low, dark rasp “Sweetheart, I’m ruined for you”

A shiver bolts through you, a full-body tremor that you know he feels.

He laughs, soft and knowing, pleased in a way that has heat licking up your spine like a slow, devastating burn.

“But don’t get ahead of yourself” he continues, his mouth trailing down, lips grazing your jaw, then lower, lower “Because you just made a mistake”

Your pulse stutters. “Did I ?”

Theo hums, his grip tightening around your wrists, his knee pressing just a fraction harder between your thighs.

“Oh yeah” his teeth catch the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, sharp enough to make your breath hitch “You bit me”

You suck in a sharp breath.

His tongue flicks over the spot he just nipped, a slow, deliberate tease before he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes heavy with intent.

His mouth crashes against yours, no pretense, no warning. Just raw, dizzying intensity. A slow, deep claim that steals the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping against him, body arching instinctively as heat floods through you.

His hands –God, his hands– are everywhere. One stays firm around your wrists, keeping you exactly where he wants you, while the other ghosts down your side, over your waist, fingers dragging in a way that makes your skin burn.

You whimper against his lips –fuck, you hate that you do, that he can pull sounds from you so effortlessly– but Theo just grins on your mouth.

His breath is ragged as he looks down at you, the smugness from before replaced by something deeper. Something darker. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling a little too fast. He looks wrecked, ruined, like he’s barely holding himself together.

And you did that.

Something about it sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your skin prickling under the intensity of his stare.

“You good, bambolina ?” His voice is rough, edged with something thick and heavy.

You could nod. Could murmur something soft, something sweet.

Instead, you arch up, just enough for your lips to graze his. “Shut up and fuck me, Theo”

The sound he makes –somewhere between a moan and a groan– sends a full-body shiver down your spine.

His lips ghost over your ear, his voice dropping into something dark and utterly devastating.

“You want me to fuck you, baby ?” his tone is slow, deliberate, dark “Want me to stretch this pretty little cunt out until you can't even fucking think ?”

A sharp, burning heat surges through you, your body betraying you with the way you arch up against him, the way your thighs clench instinctively around his waist.

Theo chuckles, low and pleased.

“God, you’re so damn cute” he murmurs, dragging his lips down your throat, nipping just hard enough to make you shudder “Just a few filthy words in your ear and you’re already soaking for me, aren’t you ?”

You hate how true it is. Hate how your body reacts instantly, how every word that leaves his mouth turns you into a fucking mess beneath him.

But Theo knows.

He feels it.

His fingers trail down, slow and teasing, his touch just light enough to drive you crazy.

“Bet if I slipped my fingers inside you right now, you’d be dripping all over them” his teeth graze your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin “Bet I wouldn’t even have to work for it. You’d just let me ruin you, wouldn’t you, bambolina ?”

Your breath stutters, a whimper catching in your throat.

Theo groans.

“Fuck, you love this, don’t you ?” he murmurs, his tone filled with dark amusement “Love being talked to like this. Love knowing how desperate you are for my cock”

You want to fight it. Want to argue. But the way he’s talking, the slow, teasing rock of his hips against yours –it’s too much.

Your body is screaming for it, every nerve on fire, every muscle tightening as you ache for him.

Theo leans in, lips barely brushing against yours, his voice a low, dangerous rasp.

“Tell me how bad you want it”

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers twitching against the hold he still has on your wrists.

“Fuck you” you manage, though it’s breathless, wrecked, your body betraying the bite behind your words, the defiance you liked to put on just for show.

Theo laughs.

“Oh, baby. I will, trust me” his hand slides lower, fingertips ghosting over your inner thigh, so close, but still refusing to give you what you need “But you’re gonna have to beg better than that”

You swallow hard, pulse pounding in your throat. You hate how much you want it. Hate how easily he has you right where he wants you.

But right now, pride is a distant thing compared to the heat pooling low in your stomach, compared to the ache that’s turning sharp, unbearable.

So, you break.

“Please” you whisper, voice shaky, breathless.

Theo hums, pleased, but he doesn’t give in yet. He waits.

“Come on, sweetheart” he murmurs, his fingers finally, finally dragging through your slick folds, just enough to make you jerk beneath him “Use your words”

A frustrated, wrecked little noise leaves your throat. “Please, Theo- I need you”

“Need me to what ?”

“Fuck me-” you practically plead, your head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut as he teases you with just the tip, pressing against you but not giving it to you yet “Fuck me, Theo, please-”

That’s all it takes.

Theo snaps.

His grip tightens, his restraint shatters, and then–

He drives into you.

All at once. All the way. Burying himself inside of you to the hilt.

He swears, low and guttural, his forehead dropping against yours. His breath is hot, uneven, and fucking hell, you love it. Love the way he sounds when he loses control, the way his body trembles just slightly as he forces himself to stay still for a second, to let you adjust.

A strangled, desperate moan rips from your throat, your body arching up into his as the air punches out of your lungs.

The world fades around you, outside this room.

It’s just you.

Just him. Hot and solid and everywhere, his body pressing into yours, his weight pinning you down in a way that leaves no room for anything but this. But the sharp, searing pleasure that rips through you the second he finally gives in, the way every thought leaves your body as he stretches you open, as he sinks into you deep.

You whimper, clawing at his back, nails digging over his skin, desperate to anchor yourself against the sheer force of it. Of him.

Theo groans, gravelly and filthy as he finally starts moving, thrusting.

“Fuck-” his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you still as he presses even deeper “You feel so fucking good, baby- so tight for me, so wet”

And Theo knows.

He feels every reaction, hears every little sound you make, and he loves it. Loves how wrecked you already are, how your body takes him so perfectly, how you’re completely at his mercy.

“'This what you wanted ?” his voice is hoarse, dark, his hips thrusting relentlessly, unforgiving “'This what you’ve been aching for all night ?”

You nod frantically, barely able to breathe. “Yes- fuck, yes-”

Theo moans, his rhythm quickening, every snap of his hips sending a new shockwave of pleasure through you.

“Look at you” he rasps, his hand holding your jaw gently, tilting your chin up enough to meet his gaze “So fucking pretty like this. All spread out for me, taking my cock like you were made for it-”

A shudder wracks through you.

Theo’s grip tightens. “Bet you’re close already”

You are.

It’s too much, his words, the way he’s fucking into you like he owns you, like you belong to him.

“I can feel it” Theo growls, his lips brushing against yours “This tight little cunt squeezing me, fuck- you wanna come for me, baby ?”

“Yes” you gasp, nails raking down his back, digging in his skin, leaving your mark just like he's leaving his.

Theo hisses, a sound that turns into a sinful moan as your walls flutter around him.

“Then do it-” his hand drops between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing, pressing just right while lodging into yourself so impossibly deep you feel his head kiss your cervix “-come for me, bambolina”

The world shatters.

Pleasure slams into you, overwhelming and all-consuming, pulling you under so violently that you scream his name.

Theo groans as you clench around him, his rhythm stuttering, his body tensing.

He follows right after, burying himself deep as he breaks, swearing under his breath as he spills into you, his grip on you bruising, desperate.

For a long moment, neither of you move, your chests heaving, your bodies tangled together, sweat-slick and spent.

Then–

Theo lets out a slow, breathless laugh, his chest still rising and falling with the force of his release. It’s hoarse, wrecked, full of something darkly satisfied, and it sends another weak shiver through your spent body.

“Jesus Christ” he exhales, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He sounds absolutely fucking ruined, and the knowledge that you did that to him sends a lazy ripple of pleasure through you.

You groan softly, head lolling to the side, still floating, still lost in the lingering aftershocks. Your limbs feel boneless, your body pliant and wrecked, every nerve ending still humming with the echoes of what he just did to you.

Theo watches you, something warm flickering in his heavy-lidded gaze, something almost dangerous in the way his lips curl into that slow, satisfied smirk.

“Told you I’d get you back, you feisty brat” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement.

You barely manage a breathless huff of laughter before his lips find your jaw, pressing a slow, lazy kiss there –then another, softer this time, a contrast to the utter destruction he just left in his wake.

And fuck, you hate how much you love it.

Hate the way your chest flutters when his nose brushes against your skin, when his fingers trace light, absentminded patterns along your thigh as if he can’t help himself.

The thing is, you don’t hate it at all.

Theo shifts onto his back, exhaling deeply, his body still loose from the intensity of his reliese. But the second his back fully meets the mattress–

“Shit”

He hisses, his muscles tensing, and for a second, his face scrunches up in surprise. Then, just as quickly, it smooths into something else. Something amused, something fond. His head turns toward you, and when he grins, it’s that lazy, post-bliss kind of grin that makes your stomach flutter.

“Damn” he murmurs, voice still thick with satisfaction “A biter and a scratcher ?”

You stretch beside him, completely unapologetic, lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Not my fault you deserved it”

Theo laughs, the sound warm and real, shaking his head as he shifts again, testing the soreness along his back. “Yeah ? That good, huh ?”

You roll onto your side, propping your head up on your hand, fully enjoying the sight of him –flushed, still catching his breath, the marks you left on him making his skin look even more golden in the dim light.

“You knew exactly what you were doing” you point out, arching a brow “I just reacted accordingly”

Theo hums, twisting slightly to glance over his shoulder, and when he catches sight of the angry red lines, his grin widens. He drags a hand over them, wincing playfully, though the pleased glint in his eyes betrays him.

“Holy shit” he mutters, clearly impressed “You really did a number on me”

You shrug, barely restraining your grin. “Maybe if you hadn't rammed into me with the force of a bloody tank, I wouldn’t have to hold on for dear life”

Theo huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, then shifts onto his side to face you. There’s something softer in his gaze now, something warm and unbearably fond. His fingers trail lazily along your arm, his touch light, absentminded, like he needs to be touching you.

“You okay ?” he murmurs after a beat, his voice lower, gentler.

And just like that –your teasing bravado falters just a little.

Because fuck, the way he’s looking at you now –the warmth in his voice, the careful touch against your skin– it melts you.

Your smirk softens, your fingers brushing against his chest as you sigh. “Yeah. More than okay”

Theo’s lips twitch, eyes flickering over your face, searching, reading you like he always does. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because his smirk turns into something even softer, something that makes your heart ache.

Still, you huff dramatically, your fingers trailing over his shoulder before tapping lightly against his chest.

“Alright, fine” you concede, rolling your eyes “Sorry for the scratches”

Theo grins. “Liar”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Half-sorry, then”

His fingers find your chin, tilting your face up just enough so your eyes meet his.

“I liked it” he murmurs, voice quieter, his thumb brushing over your jaw “I like everything you do to me”

And fuck, you’re a goner.

Your throat tightens, your fingers gripping at his skin on instinct. But before you can say anything –before you can find a way to respond without completely melting, and tell him that you love everything he does to you, too–

Theo’s smirk returns, a teasing lilt creeping back into his tone. “But you will be making it up to me”

You snort, rolling your eyes again, but your stomach flips when he leans in, lips brushing over yours, teasing, promising.

“Mmh. And how will you have me do that ?” you murmur against his mouth.

His grin widens. “I might have some…sweet suggestions”

Well.

Holy shit.

Hello beautiful people 💕

This was for all my Theo enthusiasts whom I have been left starving for months (I'm sorry, please forgive me 🙏🏻). I hope it quenched your thirst, and I hope you liked it 😚.

Thank you for reading, and I'll catch you in the next one <3

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