#it’s like slowly consuming my life again and I LOVE IT

[noonew1lleverask]

Love and Loathing

Y’all, I’m posting again. TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW! I don’t know what’s taken over my body, but I’m loving this rush of inspiration, and I hope you guys are, too. This one is more concise because I locked in this time.

Description

You didn’t expect this when you joined the BAU. A young man by the name of Spencer Reid had captured your heart, with no intention of giving it back. You were obsessed at first, simply adoring his mind and aching to know every wrinkle and fold. Then, it deepened into… what? Yearning? Love? You weren’t sure, and you hated it. You were meant to be smarter than this, yet here you were: deep in a pit of self-loathing, all because of this… boy wonder. How will you cope?

Spencer Reid x gn!reader, second-person pov, fluff? angst? No smut🫶

Word count: 1700

Character count:9476

Emotions of wild proportion typically sat snugly beside each other, nestled in arms strong and steady, and under this veil of affection, daggers were pointed at their backs. Under constant threat, love could turn to hatred so easily.

Falling is an unstoppable action. Gravity is cruel as it pulls on your body, demanding the ground to meet you in a forced hug of one-sidedness.

You crashed to the ground when you met Spencer Reid. He was something entirely novel to you, this man. He stood tall at 6’1, with a steady set to his shoulders you frequently found hunched over books. He smelled of something light and sharp, a slip of pine into your every day life, like slowly introducing a new tea into your mornings, adding goals to the end of the week. Unsure how, but utterly grateful, Spencer Reid had become something important to you; pivotal to your mental and physical state. The dependency you felt towards him was unhealthy, and you knew this, but you couldn’t… stop.

The praise he’d deliver to you filled your veins like heroin. It was addictive. The smiles slipped to you across the round-table were consumed greedily, savored like a decadent truffle on your tongue. Everything about the man enamored you. You could have said it was love, but that was jumping the gun by then. You simply found him… incredible, to put it lightly. A genius in the FBI; his mind was a labyrinth you were foaming at the mouth to understand.

Over a brunch with an old friend, your newfound passion for the man was addressed.

“You talk about him like he’s a god or something,” she commented, angling her fork to sink into the corner of the syrup drenched toast on her plate, covered with glistening fruits sitting on a pillowy bed of whipped cream. She scooped up a dollop of whip cream onto her fork alongside the triangle of french toast, and shoved it into her mouth.

“I mean.” You hated when she spoke with her mouth full, but kept your lips glued. “How special can this guy be?”

You wanted to tell her exactly that. Your teeth chattered with restraint as you held back from jumping onto the table and shouting your praises over this man.

God, what had you become?

.

.

.

Late evenings in the bullpen had become a creature comfort to you. You weren’t even sure why. Actually, you were. You were very sure, you just didn’t want to admit how cold your apartment had become, how deep the wound of loneliness had uncomfortably grown. The bullpen carried a lingering warmth from the camaraderie of the day, and you relished in it when you could. Which was a lot.

Most nights were spent alone with the soft yellow of your desk lamp, but some nights a few agents lingered like you. It made you wonder— hope, even— if they were as lonely as you. Maybe they would come up to you, ask you questions about your life out of the blue. You would hate that, you knew you would, but you wanted it anyways.

How the hell did you explain that?

Tonight was one of those nights, and this time, you didn’t wonder if this agent was lonesome. He was. His lashes shadowed his sharp cheekbones, dancing across his skin as they fluttered with each turn of the book laid flat on his desk. It was leather-bound and old, something that looked like it would crumble under the slightest pressure, which explained why Spencer handled it with grace and tenderness. Would he touch someone he loved like that?

You didn’t realize you were staring until he caught your eyes, blinking those dazzling eyes of his owlishly. You didn’t look away— you didn’t know if you could. “Good evening,” he said. Polite and casual, as he always was.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart was in your throat. Swallowing, you steeled your nerves and replied, “Good evening.”

Spencer looked between you and his book, debating, before he finally closed his novel, lowering the cover with trembling fingertips. “You stay late a lot.”

Astute observation, Einstein.

“I do,” you confirmed.

As expected, he asked, “Why?”

Why? Because I cannot go home to a dark apartment. I cannot see the couples dancing on the streets, their laughter echoing up to reach my balcony like a taunt. Because I’m a lonely fool who’s hopefully in love with you, when I don’t even love myself.

“My heating’s broke,” came your answer. You were a good liar. You’d honed the skill after years of family gatherings, of friends who looked past the glassy shine of your eyes. “It should be fixed soon, though.”

“Your heating’s been broken for… two weeks, and you’re just now getting it fixed?” He sounded skeptical, his fingers tracing the binding of his book.

Refusing to answer, you instead questioned him. “Why stay after just to read a book?” You shrugged your shoulders casually. “You can do that at home, can’t you?”

The smile that grew on his lips was deadly to you. It was teasing and playful, something boyish that gave you the inane urge to shrivel up and die. “My heating happens to be broken, too,” he answered.

If you were a more hopeful person, with just an edge more delusion, you’d believe he was flirting.

Returning his smile, yours was more tentative and practiced. “Guess we’re both in bad shape, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are.” His gaze was scrutinizing, and you wanted to crawl under your desk to hide from it, regressing to a childlike state to shy away from the millions of questions dancing in his eyes. Was this meant to be an interrogation, or casual conversation?

You didn’t say anything more after that. He went back to his novel, reading at an abnormal speed as per usual, and you back to your work. You always had work to do; files upon files because you all but begged Hotch for them. Cold cases were excellent distractions. Field reports were less interesting, but your writing was consistently formal enough to persuade Hotch to deliver you more work.

The night seemed to stretch on, the ticking of the clock overwhelming as it echoed in your ears. Your eyes grew tired, which was the tell-tale sign that it was time for you to go back home to your apartment. You sighed, rubbing your eyes, and the action Drew Spencer’s attention.

“Going home?” He stood from his desk, taking up his coat and sliding it over his long arms.

The swift eagerness of his actions startled you for a moment, and you stuttered, “Uh, y-yeah, I am. I can’t really blink without my eyes burning anymore, so…”

His brows drew together in concern. “Your eyes are probably dry. The air conditioning in here is… aggressive.”

You hummed in reply, slowly pulling your body from your chair. It was like picking up a cat, but your own body. You felt the pull of exhaustion in the backs of your calves, threatening to pull you down to the floor. You refused to let it win, because you’d rather be shot by a psychotic UNSUB before falling apart in front of Spencer.

Suddenly, he was behind you as you threw your coat over your blouse, which caused you to jump. He sheepishly grimaced, cheeks flushing. “Sorry.” His satchel was tossed over his shoulder, sagging into a curve with the weight of the items inside. Books you assumed.

“I’ll walk you out.”

You quickly turned him down. “Oh, no, Reid. I’m fine, really. I can—“

“I’ll walk you out. It’s no problem.” His tone was final, and it made something in your stomach twist with an unpleasant pleasantry you hated yourself for relishing in.

Your answer was meek. “Okay.”

He held the door open for you on your way out to the bullpen, allowing the glass door to fall shut behind him as he sped up to match your pace. He pressed the button for the elevator, the down arrow flashing orange.

He stood beside you, his hands in his pockets, as you waited. You stood beside him, hands twisting together in front of you, eyes on the metal doors, watching your blurrier reflections, as you waited.

“I lied about my heating.”

You didn’t look over at him, but you were sure he heard your heavy exhale.

“And I’m sure you lied about yours too.” Partly true. It didn’t surprise you that he saw through your lie like glass. Right now, you felt like you were being pressed against glass, watching the scene through an out-of-body experience.

His feet scuffed the floor next to you, nervously shifting. “I know why you stay late, and I�� relate. I understand what it feels like to enter your home but feel like a stranger to it.”

You dared to turn your head, and he was already looking at you, his chin tilted slightly to fully meet your gaze. And, God, you were hooked. There it was, that rush of adrenaline again, a high you would surely crash from the minute your door locked behind you.

Something was intense there in his gaze, heady. You could get drunk off of it alone, and you were sure you were. Your legs turned to jelly, and your fingertips numbed as you clenched your hands together.

“I know your apartment’s heating is fine, more than fine, considering your income and the area you live, but…” A shy smile pulled at his lips. “Let’s pretend you’re freezing, so… you can come over to mine? And I can offer you some midnight take out to warm you up?”

Your heart raced in your chest, threatening to burst free from your body. That wouldn’t be pleasant. It’d be disgusting, and would drive Spencer further away from you than a father from his family.

Feeling escaped your limbs, but you knew if you did collapse out of sheer… disbelief, he’d catch you. His arms were lean and steady, like tree branches, and you wondered how they’d feel wrapped around your body.

Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe immediately after your reply, you’d know.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

(Part 2 of Spencer’s POV?)

Thank you so much for reading! Have a wonderful night, day, afternoon— and know you are so incredibly loved by me, God, and so many more people you have yet to meet! THANK YOUUU!

[thyras]

→ of the purest heart

PAIRING → halbrand | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 4k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → more angst, arguments, and sacrifices

SUMMARY → you continue to struggle with your emotions over your husband, but in one final act you make your choice.

AUTHORS NOTE → so i originally was not going to go past twelve parts, but in normal sam fashion that looks like it will not be enough. i am for real taking a break after this, i need to watch s2 again so i can map out that part of the story, i have things in the works but i need to refresh my mind on stuff. hope y'all enjoy 💕

PARTS → one // two // three // four // five // six // seven // nine

The heaviness in your chest pressed down on you as you stared blankly at the ceiling of your chambers. The weight of your emotions was nearly suffocating, yet the crisp morning air filling your lungs brought a fleeting clarity. But even the coldness in the air carried a presence—one so distinct that it made your skin prickle.

You rolled over, expecting to find something, someone, yet all that greeted you were the soft rays of sunlight streaming through the slits in your balcony doors. The quiet stillness of the room should have been reassuring, but instead, it unsettled you.

Then, something caught your eye.

A flicker—a silver glint in the light. It drew your attention so sharply that you sat up, your breath catching in your throat. Across the room, on your dressing table, sat an object you thought long lost to time and memory.

It was unmistakable.

A piece of your old life, placed so carefully that it seemed almost like an offering of peace. Yet, as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, you hesitated. The mere sight of it made your heart race, both in recognition and in dread.

It was not the same as you remembered.

The object almost radiated with a shadowy presence, its aura heavy and dark despite the faint trace of light that still clung to it, reminiscent of the night you were wed. The silver’s once pure gleam was now marred, the diamond-like gems that once adorned it replaced with shimmering sapphires that mirrored the one on your chain. The delicate etching and petals in the silver twining were new, masterfully crafted, but there was an unease in its beauty.

A tear slipped down your cheek, unbidden, as though your soul mourned its transformation. The craftsmanship was breathtaking, yet it carried an undeniable malice, a darkness woven into its very ore.

You dared not touch it.

Its beauty was a lie—a shroud masking the malice and hate you knew it held within. To touch it would be to invite its shadow into your heart, and you could not bear to carry its weight.

So you sat there, staring at the object that had once symbolized love and light, now twisted into something unrecognizable. It was a reflection of him, a reminder of how far he had fallen—and of the distance that now lay between you both.  

But that part of you that still craved him—coveted him, even—seemed to pull you toward the hairpiece. It called out to you in the same way the mark on your arm did on certain nights, an irresistible pull that you could neither fight nor understand. Slowly, you rose from your bed, your bare feet silent against the cool floor as you crossed the room.

Your hand hovered over the piece, suspended in indecision. You braced yourself for the familiar burning, the searing pain from the mark that would drag you into the darkness threatening to consume you. But there was nothing—no pain, no fire.

Tentatively, your index finger traced the silvery metal, its surface cold beneath your touch. The sensation was chilling, but it was not the temperature that sent shivers through you. It was the shadow, the unmistakable weight of his presence, like an embrace both tender and suffocating.

The sharp fingers of his darkness seemed to clench around your heart, pulling at the very core of your fëa. How could you not love him? It was a question that gnawed at you, sharp and relentless. He was intertwined into your very being, woven so deeply that no force in Arda could unravel it.

But then, how could you also hate him so profoundly?

Your body and heart betrayed your mind as your fingers continued to caress the ridges and delicate flows of the metalwork. The intricate design spoke of his brilliance, his mastery, his unrelenting pursuit of perfection. It was undeniably Mairon. It would always be him—no matter what shape he took, no matter what form or mindset he inhabited, it was always him.

The void that was Sauron, the shadow he had become, could never erase the memory of the light that was Mairon. And despite everything, despite the grief, the rage, and the pain, a part of you would always reach for him. Always.

Your fingers closed around the hairpiece, gripping it tightly as if to crush the weight of its presence. The tightening in your chest returned, sharp and unrelenting, a familiar ache that you refused to succumb to. You squeezed the delicate metalwork, the cold silver biting into your palm as you reached for your robe with trembling hands.

How dare he, you thought, your anger flaring to life and burning away the sorrow, if only for a moment.

You stormed out the door, your steps quick and determined. The corridors blurred as you moved, each stride fueled by the fiery indignation coursing through your veins. You would confront him. You would demand to know how he dared to think that this one relic of the past, however beautiful, however meaningful, could sway you.

And yet, as the thought settled, you faltered.

Because, for a fleeting moment, it had swayed you.

The memory of his touch, his voice, his presence wrapped around you like a phantom, and you hated how much you wished to fall into the void with him. To forgive him for everything—for the destruction, for the betrayal, for the pain he had wrought upon your lives and your love.

The thought shamed you, but it was there, undeniable. That fragile piece of your heart that still yearned for him, that whispered of a life where the darkness had not taken him, where the light of Mairon had shone brightly beside you, untainted by shadow.

But you couldn’t let it consume you. Not now.

You tightened your grip on the hairpiece, the cool metal grounding you as you pushed forward. The confrontation would come, and when it did, you would remind him—and yourself—of the strength that still burned within you. A strength forged in the love he had destroyed and the resolve you had built in its place.

As you followed the invisible tendrils that bound you to him, they led you to the courtyard, where the sight before you stopped you in your tracks. He stood with Galadriel, their heads inclined toward one another, their conversation low and intimate. You lingered by one of the ivy-covered pillars, your elven ears catching fragments of their words. Though the content was veiled, the tone was not.

The heat rushed to your face, anger and jealousy blooming as you watched him lean in to whisper something into her ear.

She stepped back, her expression unreadable, and his lips curved into a soft smile before he turned away from her. Your heart pounded, your grip tightening on the hairpiece in your hand as he began to walk, his long stride quickly closing the distance between you.

His dark emerald eyes met yours, and you knew instantly that he had seen everything—your fury, your pain, the jealousy that you couldn’t fully conceal. He lingered before you, his gaze intent, a hint of amusement dancing in those cursed eyes.

“Something wrong, my lady?” he asked, his silvery voice smooth and teasing, the knowing smile that played on his lips only adding fuel to the fire raging in your chest.

He knew. He always knew. He was playing you, twisting the strings of your emotions with precision, as though it were a game only he could win.

“No,” you hissed, barely restraining the venom in your voice. But before the word fully escaped your lips, you forced yourself to collect your composure.

He inclined his head slightly, the motion laced with mock courtesy, and stepped away, moving toward the forge with a grace that only deepened your frustration.

You stood rooted to the spot, your hand trembling with the effort to keep from reacting. As his figure disappeared from view, the fire in your chest only burned brighter. You hadn’t noticed Galadriel approaching until her soft voice broke through the haze of your fury.

“Thilwen?” she asked gently.

Your gaze snapped to hers, and you quickly softened your expression, letting go of some of the tension in your features.

“What can I do for you, my lady?” you asked politely, tilting your head slightly as you observed her curious expression.

“Is Lord Halbrand spending all his time with Lord Celebrimbor?” she asked.

The question was not unusual, given your position as Celebrimbor’s most trusted confidant. You nodded slightly, masking your unease.

“It would seem so. Is something the matter I should know?”

Galadriel smiled warmly, but her sharp blue eyes betrayed the hidden suspicion beneath her outward kindness.

“No, I wish not to worry you,” she said, though her gaze dropped pointedly to your hands. Her eyes lingered on your fingers, still tightly gripping the hairpiece. “That piece— is it yours?”

You glanced down at the hairpiece in your hands and then back up at her, nodding with measured calm.

“It is,” you replied, carefully choosing your words. “A gift from someone very close to me. I wore it when I was wed.”

You dared not say more, aware of the quiet scrutiny in her gaze. Galadriel’s curiosity was often masked in diplomacy, but you knew better than to underestimate her perceptiveness.

“May I?” she asked, holding out her hand.

You hesitated for a moment, your grip tightening instinctively around the piece. But after a pause, you placed it in her outstretched hand, watching her carefully as she examined it.

She turned it over gently, her fingers tracing the delicate silver etching. For a moment, you half-expected her to recoil from the shadowy aura that clung to it, but she showed no such reaction. Instead, her expression remained serene, almost thoughtful.

Something inside you stirred uneasily. She had touched your husband’s darkness before—you could feel it. And unlike most, she seemed unbothered by its sweet, insidious allure.

Galadriel handed the hairpiece back to you, her movements smooth and deliberate. You accepted it wordlessly, your mind racing.

“It looks like something I wore at my own, though this one is far more exquisite. Thank you for letting me see it.” she said softly, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned to leave.

As she walked away, you clutched the hairpiece tighter, your heart pounding. Her quiet interest left you with an unsettling sense that she understood far more than she let on.

You slammed the hairpiece down onto the workbench, the sharp sound echoing through the empty forge. Halbrand, standing opposite you, removed his gloves with deliberate slowness, laying them carefully on the other side of the bench. His brow lifted slightly as his gaze lingered on you, watching your seething anger with an expression that bordered on amusement—satisfaction, even, as though he was reveling in the effect he had on you.

The forge was quiet at mid-afternoon, but you knew better than to assume you were entirely alone. Elven ears were keen, and whispers traveled quickly, so you fought to keep your voice low, controlled.

“What is this?” you asked, your voice sharp but composed, though you could feel the fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

A sickly smile spread across his face as he leaned in, the distance between you shrinking until there were only inches left. His emerald eyes glimmered with that same insufferable arrogance, yet they drew you in despite yourself.

“It’s a gift,” he breathed, his voice smooth and laced with something dangerous. His breath was warm and spiced, washing over your face, making your heart hammer uncontrollably in your chest. “To complete your set, as I always meant to all those years ago.”

Your index finger jabbed at his chest, your glare unwavering even as his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The touch sent a jolt through you, electric and impossible to ignore, just like the brief contact you’d had the night before.

“If you think this—” you began, your voice trembling slightly, but he cut you off.

“Will do what, Mori?” he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating as he leaned even closer. Your noses were nearly touching, and your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as the heat of his presence enveloped you.

You braced for the searing pain you always felt when he was near, but it didn’t come. There was only a dull ache in your wrist, a strange reprieve that left you off-balance. Your finger faltered, dropping from his chest as confusion mingled with the fury roiling inside you.

“You claim to not want to forgive me,” he continued, his voice soft but cutting, “but all I can taste on your fëa is the urge to forgive.”

His fingers traced up your wrist, slipping beneath the sleeve of your robe. The warmth of his touch against your bare skin sent a shiver down your spine, one that blossomed outward and left you trembling. It was a sensation you hadn’t felt in an Age, awakening something you had long buried, and it frightened you how easily he was unraveling your defenses.

“Your thoughts betray you,” he whispered, his lips so close you could feel the faintest brush of his breath.

Every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull away, but the pull of his presence, his words, was impossible to resist. He was plucking the strings of your harp, and the melody was one you both knew far too well. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, the faintest contact sending ripples of heat through your very core. “Come to me,” he breathed, his voice a low, magnetic pull that wrapped around your mind. “Fall back into my arms, and let’s be who we were always meant to be.”

Your breath caught, your chest tightening as your eyes slammed shut, shutting out everything but the sound of his voice and the warmth of his touch.

You wanted to. You wanted to more than anything. The desire burned within you, an ache that refused to be extinguished, no matter how much you fought against it. His hands gripped your forearms softly, almost reverently, and the darkness he carried wrapped around you like a sweet, intoxicating fog. Its scent was alluring, tempting you to surrender.

But then, with a sharp intake of breath, you opened your eyes and yanked yourself back from his embrace.

“Get out of my head,” you snarled, your voice sharp and unwavering.

His eyes darkened instantly, the brilliant emerald of his gaze bleeding into a rich, consuming black as he stared down at you. The shift would have terrified most, but not you. It never had.

You were not frightened of him—not of his darkness, not of his power. You were frightened of the part of yourself that still longed for him, that ached to fall into his arms despite everything he had become.

But you would not yield. Not to his silvery words, his gentle touches, or the manipulations that dripped from his every word.

Like he had with you.

You had pledged to love him, no matter what—but that pledge had not included this. The schemes, the grand desires, the manipulations, the lies. You had promised to love the being he truly was, the Mairon you had once known, not the manipulator he had become.

You stood taller, meeting the dark abyss of his gaze with defiance. “I loved the light in you,” you said, your voice low but steady. “Not the shadow that consumes you now.”

For a moment, his expression flickered—just a moment—but you held firm. You would not be swayed. Eru had given you that power—the strength to resist, even when the very song that created both of you cried out for you to lose yourself in him, to let the harmony bind you once more.

“Keep it, deceiver,” you said forcefully, your voice sharp with finality. You spun around to leave, but his fingers caught your wrist with startling speed, blunt nails digging into your skin just enough to make you wince.

Your eyes snapped to his, meeting those abyssal depths that seemed to pull at your very soul. They were dark, unrelenting, and they watched you with a fierce intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I have never once deceived you, Mornelótë,” he said, his voice low and edged with darkness.

You swallowed hard, the use of your name a dagger to your resolve, but you steadied yourself.

“Then what were those centuries when you hid who you really were?” you retorted, your voice trembling with anger. “Stop deceiving yourself in these attempts to rationalize what you’ve done, Sauron.”

The name cut him, just as you knew it would. He snarled, his grip tightening as he yanked you closer. Pain surged through your wrist as his blunt nails seemed to sharpen with the force of his fury. His abyssal gaze bore into you, and you could feel the weight of his hatred for that name.

“Do not call me that,” he growled, his voice thick with barely restrained rage.

“That is who you are, is it not?” you countered, your brow arching with mock sincerity. “Or have you taken on another I should know about?”

He said nothing, his silence stretching between you like a taut string ready to snap. His gaze never wavered, unblinking as he studied you, but the minutes dragged by, and still he did not speak.

Finally, you yanked your wrist free with a sharp motion, shaking his grip off violently. “You know what?” you said, your voice cold as you reached for the hairpiece on the workbench.

With a mock smile, you let out a chilling giggle, the sound reverberating in the quiet forge. “I think I’ll keep it. I could get a pretty penny for these jewels and ores, you know. Since they’re the work of a master smith of Aulë himself.”

You gave him a mocking bow, your sarcasm biting, and turned on your heel to leave. Without looking back, you strode into the corridor, your steps quick and purposeful as you disappeared from sight.

The moment you were out of his presence, you let out a shaky breath, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. Relief washed over you—not only from being free of his dark gaze, but from the knowledge that you had stood so close to him, felt his power pressing down on you, and still had not given in.

For now, you were still yourself.

He did not invade your mind, nor did he speak to you during the moments when you checked on Celebrimbor’s progress. Yet, you always felt the weight of his gaze, dark and heavy, lingering on you like a shadow. He was waiting, hoping to provoke you—a word, a reaction, anything—but you gave him nothing.

So when he didn’t appear, and Galadriel stormed in, soaked to the skin with Elrond close behind her, your stomach twisted in unease. Her fear was palpable, reflected in her wide eyes, and the look she gave you—somewhere between understanding and resolve—confirmed what you feared most.

He told her. And he was gone.

You thought grimly, though you didn’t dare voice it.

“None of us are to treat with him again,” Galadriel declared, her voice steely and final.

The words sent chills down your spine, and you struggled to keep your emotions in check as Elrond pressed her for more. Their voices blurred together, becoming background noise as your mind raced, your heart pounding in your ears. He would return. You were certain of that. Celebrimbor was what he needed, and you—you—were what he wanted.

He would not abandon either.

“So, do we proceed?” Celebrimbor asked, rubbing his temple as though the weight of the moment was bearing down on him.

“No,” Galadriel said firmly. “We must make three.”

“Three?” you asked, hesitant to even speak, unsure if you could fully trust your voice.

“One will always corrupt. Two will divide,” she explained, her tone decisive, and you silently cursed yourself for not having thought of it sooner.

“But with three, there is balance,” you finished, the realization dawning as you met her gaze.

She nodded softly, her sharp eyes sweeping across the room, resting on each of you in turn. “What we forge here today must be for the elves, and the elves alone.”

The tension in the room grew, each word she spoke carrying a weight that settled over all of you like a heavy cloak.

“Galadriel, I have determined that the purity of the lesser ores in the alloy is crucial,” Celebrimbor said, nodding toward her brother’s dagger still clutched tightly in her hands.

You saw where his thoughts were leading and placed a steadying hand on his arm.

“Lady Galadriel has already sacrificed enough,” you said softly, your voice resolute. “Let me.”

You turned to the workbench where the hairpiece rested, its gleaming silver and sapphires catching the light. Taking a deep breath, you picked it up, its familiar weight in your hand grounding you for what came next.

“Use this,” you said, your voice firm, though your heart ached with the enormity of the gesture. You reached for the golden chain around your neck, unclasping it carefully. “And this.”

“My lady,” Celebrimbor said, his voice heavy with disbelief.

“They are the past, my lord,” you replied, meeting his gaze with quiet strength. “A past I have clung to for far too long.” You placed the chain into his hand alongside the hairpiece, gently closing his fingers around them. “True creation requires sacrifice,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“True creation requires sacrifice,” he repeated, his expression softening into a small, grateful smile.

You watched as he moved to the furnace, beginning to remove the jewels and prepare them for their transformation. Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over as the realization of what you were giving up settled over you.

That chain, that ruby, held Mairon’s light, the essence of the man you had loved—your husband, before he was swallowed by shadow. And the hairpiece, no matter how he had reforged it, held a piece of your soul. Together, they were the hearts of beings destined for each other, even through ages of pain and separation.

But no longer.

You had tried to heal him, to pull him from the darkness with your light, but it had not been enough. He was too far gone, and now you were finally letting go.

Galadriel stepped up beside you, placing a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder. Her grip was grounding, and her words carried a rare warmth. “The Valar will smile upon you this day, Thilwen, for your sacrifice. And you will see the golden shores for it.”

You turned to her, a faint, bleak smile on your lips. “Thank you, my lady,” you said softly, “but there is no place for me there. No ship could bear the weight of my fëa longing for its other half.”

“I know,” she whispered, taking your hand in hers as Celebrimbor placed the jewelry into the furnace.

The fire flared brightly, the glow lighting the room as if the pieces themselves mourned their destruction.

True creation requires sacrifice.

As the flames consumed what you had held so close for so long, you felt something shift within you. To heal the dark part of yourself, the part that had clung to what was, you had to let go completely.

You had been called to this moment, and with a pure heart, you had answered.

[tyrianlynch]

Anyways I’m going back into my queer horror brainrot

[thisismyworldyeah]

.

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[missarchive]

guys my age - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

who? professor spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: slow burn, forbidden love.

content warnings: NSFW MDNI! age gap! (spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s). dubious content. freakish obsessed reader, freakish obsessed spencer. dom!spencer, but reader is pretty controlling. borderline stalking. unprotected p in v. forbidden love. power dynamics. smut. spencer cums inside :]

word count: around 8k

a/n: hi all!! this is my first post, i used to write wayyy back in the day but after a long three years and finally finishing my degree, i now have all the time in the world to write again. feedback is greatly appreciated <3

The lecture hall was alive with murmurs, but you couldn’t hear them. All you could focus on was the moment that door would open, the instant he would walk in. Dr. Spencer Reid. His name consumed you, whispered endlessly in the back of your mind, an invocation that made your pulse quicken. You had done your research long before the semester began—his credentials, his publications, the infamous cases he’d worked. He wasn’t just brilliant. He was untouchable. But not to you.

You sat deliberately in the middle row, far enough back to observe him fully, close enough to feel like he was speaking directly to you. The moment he entered, time seemed to slow. His presence was overwhelming, his voice a melody that wrapped around you, dragging you under. Every movement he made—the way his fingers toyed with the edge of his lecture notes, the slight adjustment of his glasses—was a spectacle.

“Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Advanced Criminology. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” His voice was smooth and confident, with an underlying warmth that immediately put you at ease.

For the next hour, you sat transfixed as he delved into the complexities of criminal behavior, weaving together case studies and theories with an ease that only someone with his expertise could manage. He had a way of making even the most intricate concepts accessible, his passion for the subject evident in every word. By the end of the lecture, you were utterly captivated—not just by the material, but by the man who delivered it.

Perfectly ironed white shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms. The same black suit pants you’d seen countless times when you closed your eyes. Unruly curls lay in a perfect mess, somehow each strand just fit. His eyes held knowledge, they commanded attention. They looked at you with such an intensity, you wondered if he could see right through you. Sure, he wasn’t blind. Dr. Spencer Reid was a genius, after all. But, as he walks around his classic oak desk, fingers grazing against the wood as he leans up against it, you wonder if he knows the effect he has on you… On everyone.

Your old professor had resigned, much to your dismay. However, that was quickly resolved once you learnt of the new, much younger professor who was assigned to take his place. Spencer Reid, a name that seemed like a curse every time it was spoken. You’d just have to settle for admiring from afar, for now. 

He was perfect. No, he was more than that. He was yours.

In those first weeks, it became routine to linger after class, pretending to ask questions about criminological theories when all you wanted was his attention. You started tracking his habits: the exact time he arrived on campus, where he grabbed his coffee, the path he took to his office. It wasn’t enough to listen to him during lectures. You needed to know him. Needed to understand every nuance of his life.

Your notebooks filled slowly. Not just with his words, but with sketches of his hands, his profile, even the way the light hit his hair during evening lectures. You memorized his mannerisms and read every book he recommended—not just to excel but to mirror his thoughts, to create a bond he couldn’t ignore.

Each interaction became a drug, a fleeting high that left you craving more. The way his eyes lingered on yours during class wasn’t a coincidence. You were sure of it. The moments his voice softened when addressing you were evidence of something deeper. He felt it too—he had to.

Dr. Reid, for his part, seemed to enjoy your curiosity. He would patiently answer your questions, occasionally sharing anecdotes from his time in the field. There was a depth to him that intrigued you, a sense of vulnerability hidden beneath his intellect. You couldn’t help but feel a growing admiration for him—one that you knew was dangerous to entertain.

It happened on a rainy Friday afternoon. You had stayed behind after class to discuss a particularly challenging case study, and the conversation had spilled into his office. The rain pattered against the window as you sat across from him, your notes spread out on the desk between you.

“I’m impressed with your analysis,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “You have a natural aptitude for this field.”

The compliment sent a flush of warmth through you, but you quickly pushed it aside. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. That means a lot coming from you.”

For a moment, the air between you shifted, the professional boundary wavering ever so slightly. He seemed to sense it too, clearing his throat and looking away. “Well, uh, keep up the good work. I’m looking forward to seeing your perspective on the next assignment.”

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something unspoken lingered between you. It was subtle, like the faintest trace of electricity in the air, but it was there. And it terrified you.

The weeks turned into months, and the connection between you and Dr. Reid continued to deepen. It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You simply couldn’t help the way your conversations seemed to flow effortlessly or the way his insights resonated with you on a level that felt personal.

There were moments when you caught him watching you during lectures, his gaze lingering a fraction longer than necessary. And then there were the times when his praise felt almost... intimate, as if he saw something in you that went beyond your academic abilities.

You knew it was wrong. He was your professor, and the power dynamic alone made any kind of relationship inappropriate. But the more you tried to suppress your feelings, the stronger they seemed to grow. You found yourself yearning for his company, for the way his mind worked, for the rare glimpses of vulnerability he shared.

And you weren’t entirely sure he was immune to it, either.

It was during a late-night office visit that everything came to a head. You had been working on your final paper and were struggling with a particular section. Dr. Reid had offered to review it, and you had jumped at the chance, grateful for his guidance.

As you sat across from him, discussing your ideas, the tension that had been building between you finally reached its breaking point. There was a moment of silence as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching yours.

“You’re incredibly talented,” he said softly. “I hope you know that.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, and before you could stop yourself, you replied, “It’s easy to feel that way when someone like you believes in me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He looked at you, his expression a mixture of conflict and longing. “This...” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “This can’t happen. I won’t elaborate further, but you’re a smart girl… I know you know what I'm talking about.”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I know.”

But even as you said it, neither of you moved to leave. All you received was a curt nod. The pull between you was undeniable, and in that moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

The night of the gala was your chance. You spent hours perfecting your appearance, knowing he would notice you in a way he never had before. And when he did, when his eyes locked onto you with that unreadable expression, it was like the entire world fell away.

When he led you to the corner of the room, your heart pounded, not with fear, but with anticipation. His frustration, his struggle to maintain control, only proved how deeply you had affected him.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, his voice low and sharp.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Reid.”

His jaw clenched, his composure slipping. “You know exactly what I mean. You’ve been crossing lines all semester.”

You stepped closer, the scent of his cologne intoxicating. “And what if I have?”

His gaze burned into yours, his control fraying with each passing second. “This has to stop.” He said, though his tone lacked conviction.

But you knew better. You had studied him, unraveled him piece by piece. He wasn’t as strong as he pretended to be. And neither were you.

“Maybe I don’t want it to.” You whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and desire.

For a moment, his eyes softened, as if seeing the truth of your obsession for the first time. “Obsession is a dangerous game.” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You would burn the whole world down if it meant keeping him close.

The world outside of Dr. Reid’s orbit ceased to matter. Friends became an afterthought. Classes, even the ones you’d once excelled in, were nothing more than obligations. Every moment not spent in his presence felt wasted. His words were etched into your memory, his voice a constant echo in your mind.

You found excuses to linger near his office, pretending to read in the hallway or jotting down notes on topics that had long ceased to matter. Sometimes you’d see him through the small window of his door, head bowed over papers, fingers absently running through his tousled hair. Those moments were sacred.

And then there were the nights.

Your dreams became a battleground, the lines between fantasy and reality blurring. You would see him, hear him, feel the phantom weight of his gaze. Waking up was a cruel joke, pulling you from a world where he was already yours. More than once, you had the fleeting urge to knock on his door late at night, under the pretense of needing help.

But you stopped yourself. Barely.

For now.

When he praised you in class, it felt personal, intimate. You lived for those moments. The way he would say your name, how his eyes would flicker with something unreadable—those seconds were your lifeline. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You needed more.

You started keeping track of the little details. The brand of pens he used. The scuff on his leather satchel. The faint hint of lavender in his cologne. You’d bought the same scent, spraying it on your pillow just to feel closer to him at night.

One evening, you followed him. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He left the lecture hall as you lingered, and without thinking, you gathered your things and trailed behind him. He walked briskly, head down, weaving through the near-empty campus. You stayed far enough back to avoid suspicion but close enough to study him.

He stopped at the local bookstore, his long fingers running over the spines of books with a reverence that made your chest tighten. You hid behind a display, watching him as he browsed. When he left, you waited a few moments before approaching the same section. He had lingered near the true crime section, and you traced the path of his fingers, touching the same books he had touched.

It became a ritual after that. You discovered his favorite haunts: the coffee shop where he always ordered black coffee with two sugars, the quiet corner of the library where he would sometimes sit and read, the park where he walked on Sunday mornings. You were careful, meticulous, ensuring he never saw you. But you saw him.

Every time you caught a glimpse of him, it felt like a secret, a moment that belonged solely to you.

The gala had been your boldest move yet, and the way his gaze lingered on you that night had only fueled the fire. His warning echoed in your mind, but you dismissed it. He said you were crossing boundaries, but you knew better. He was simply scared. Scared of what this meant. Scared of what you meant.

You decided to leave him something. A token, something small enough to avoid suspicion but personal enough that he would know it was from you. A first edition of one of the books he had mentioned in class. You placed it on his desk after everyone had left, your heart racing as you imagined his reaction.

The next day, you waited, anticipation coiling in your stomach like a serpent. When he walked into class, the book was in his hand. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on you for a moment too long before he placed it in his bag without a word.

It was a victory.

But victories, you realized, were fleeting.

One evening, as you left the library, you spotted him walking toward his car. The parking lot was empty, save for the two of you, and for the first time, you didn’t bother to stay hidden. You followed him openly, your footsteps echoing against the pavement.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you.

“Why are you following me?” He asked, his voice sharp but not unkind. His eyes held a mixture of curiosity and something darker, something you couldn’t quite place.

Your breath caught, but you forced a smile. “I wasn’t following you, Dr. Reid. I just happened to be walking this way.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

The accusation hung in the air, and for a moment, you thought about denying it. But then, something inside you snapped.

“No.” You admitted, your voice trembling. “It’s not.”

His expression shifted—confusion, disbelief, and something else flickered across his face. “Why?”

The word was a whisper, barely audible, but it was enough to unravel you.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep—I can’t focus on anything but you. You’re brilliant, and kind, and perfect, and I—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “This isn’t healthy.”

You took a step closer, desperation clawing at your chest. “But it’s real. You know it is. I see the way you look at me. Don’t pretend you don’t feel it too.”

He took a step back, shaking his head. “This has to end…now. Do you understand me?”

But you didn’t believe him. Not really. Because you had seen the way his hands trembled when you were near, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. He was scared, yes, but not of you. He was scared of himself.

And that, you realized, was all the encouragement you needed.

Dr. Reid’s words echoed in your mind for days after the encounter in the parking lot. This has to end. But the way he said it, the way his voice wavered ever so slightly, betrayed him. It wasn’t conviction; it was fear. Fear of what you had awakened in him.

You were sure of it now. He wasn’t immune to you. Not entirely.

The proof came in small, fleeting moments—too subtle for anyone else to notice, but to you, they were glaring signs. The way his eyes lingered on you during lectures, his gaze softening before he quickly looked away. The way he adjusted his tie when you walked into the room, as if suddenly self-conscious. And then there were the compliments, so carefully worded that they might seem innocent to others, but to you, they felt personal. Intimate.

Still, he kept his distance. Even when you sought him out after class, he kept the conversations brief, his tone polite but clipped. It was maddening, the way he seemed to hold himself back.

But then, there were cracks.

One afternoon, you arrived at his office under the guise of needing help with a research topic. He hesitated before letting you in, his hand lingering on the doorknob as if debating whether this was a mistake.

Once inside, the air between you was charged. He sat across from you, his hands folded on the desk, but his gaze flickered to your lips more than once as you spoke.

When you handed him a stack of notes, your fingers brushed, and he pulled back quickly, too quickly.

“Sorry.” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, leaning forward just enough to close the space between you. “It’s okay.”

For a moment, his composure faltered. His eyes locked onto yours, and the tension was unbearable. You could see it in his face—the war he was waging within himself.

Then, just as quickly, he stood, turning his back to you as he busied himself with a stack of papers on the shelf. “Your analysis is impressive,” he said, his tone suddenly distant. “You’re clearly passionate about the subject.”

The shift was jarring, but it only solidified your resolve. He wasn’t rejecting you. He was protecting himself.

That evening, you stayed late in the library, poring over the materials he had assigned. As you packed up to leave, you noticed a familiar figure in the far corner. He was seated at a table, his long fingers flipping through a thick volume, his expression distant.

You froze, your heart pounding. He hadn’t noticed you yet. For a moment, you considered leaving, but the pull was too strong.

You approached slowly, the sound of your footsteps drawing his attention. When he looked up, his eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unguarded crossing his face before he composed himself.

“Staying late?” He asked, his voice calm, but his fingers tightened on the edge of the book.

You nodded, setting your bag down on the table. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I find the library... peaceful.”

“Me too.” You said softly, taking a seat across from him.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension that had been building for months. His eyes flicked to yours, then away, as if he couldn’t decide whether to meet your gaze or avoid it entirely.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “You should be careful, you know. Spending so much time in my office, lingering after class—it’s not... appropriate.”

Your heart twisted at the words, but his tone was anything but stern. It sounded like a warning, but it felt like a confession.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers flexing as if resisting the urge to reach for something—or someone.

“It’s not about what I want.” He said finally, his voice strained.

But it was. You could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He was just better at pretending otherwise.

The next day, during his lecture, you felt his eyes on you more than usual. He paced the room as he spoke, his hands gesturing animatedly, but every so often, his gaze would drift to you, his words faltering for the briefest moment before he recovered.

It was intoxicating, knowing you could unravel him like this.

After class, as the other students filtered out, you stayed behind, your heart racing as you approached his desk.

“Dr. Reid,” you began, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Yes?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words, but before you could speak, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re relentless.” He said softly, almost to himself.

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

“I just want to understand you.” You said, stepping closer.

He shook his head, a faint, almost bitter smile playing on his lips. “You already understand too much.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he fought to maintain control, but you also saw the flicker of something darker, something he couldn’t quite suppress.

And in that moment, you knew: this wasn’t over.

It was only just beginning.

It started innocently enough—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The male student, a classmate you barely knew, had approached you after lecture to ask about the upcoming project. His name was Ethan, and while he was polite and charming, you couldn’t muster much interest in the conversation. Still, you smiled and nodded at his jokes, your polite laughter echoing in the near-empty hall.

Unbeknownst to you, Dr. Reid had lingered behind, tidying up his desk and organizing his papers. His sharp ears caught the sound of your laughter, a melody he had grown far too familiar with—and possessive of.

He looked up to see you standing near the doorway, your body language relaxed as Ethan leaned in slightly, his tone conspiratorial. Spencer’s grip on the edge of the desk tightened.

Ethan’s laugh was loud, too loud, as if he wanted to broadcast how much he enjoyed your company. Spencer’s jaw clenched. He knew this was ridiculous. He was your professor, and it wasn’t his place to interfere with your social life. But the sight of another man so close to you, taking liberties he couldn’t, made his blood boil.

When you glanced back into the classroom, likely to gather your things, your eyes met Spencer’s. For a fleeting moment, his mask slipped, and you saw something dark and raw flicker across his face. It was gone just as quickly, replaced by his usual calm demeanor, but the image stayed with you.

“Everything alright, Dr. Reid?” You asked, stepping inside and leaving Ethan to wait by the door.

Spencer straightened, clearing his throat. “Yes. Just... finishing up.”

Ethan peeked his head in. “Ready to go?” He asked, his tone casual but his presence invasive.

Spencer’s eyes darted to Ethan, then back to you. “You should be careful with your time,” he said, his voice quiet but pointed. “The project deadline isn’t as far off as it seems.”

You frowned, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. “I’ll make sure to stay on top of it.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if debating whether to say more. Instead, he turned his attention back to his desk, his movements stiff and deliberate.

The next few days were marked by a subtle shift in Spencer’s behavior. During lectures, his eyes seemed to find you more often, but they were no longer soft or conflicted. There was an intensity to his gaze now, a quiet possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

When Ethan approached you again after class, Spencer’s reaction was immediate.

“Miss L/N.” He called out, his voice carrying across the room.

You turned, surprised to see him still at his desk. “Yes, Dr. Reid?”

“Could you stay for a moment? I’d like to discuss your recent paper.”

Ethan hesitated, clearly waiting for you, but Spencer’s sharp gaze left no room for argument. “I won’t keep her long.” He said smoothly, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Ethan nodded reluctantly. “I’ll catch you later.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Spencer’s demeanor shifted. He stood, his tall frame looming as he approached you.

“Is he bothering you?” He asked, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

“Ethan? No, not at all. Why would you think that?”

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He seems... persistent. I just want to make sure you’re not feeling pressured.”

You couldn’t help but smile, amused by his sudden protectiveness. “I’m fine, Dr. Reid. Really.”

He nodded, but his expression didn’t soften. “Good. I’d hate to see someone distract you from your potential.”

The words were innocent enough, but the way he said them—the way his eyes lingered on yours—made your breath catch.

It wasn’t long before his jealousy became harder to hide.

During a group discussion, Ethan made a point of sitting next to you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned over to share his notes. Spencer’s gaze locked onto the interaction, his hand tightening around the marker in his grip until his knuckles turned white.

When Ethan made a joke and you laughed, Spencer interrupted sharply. “Let’s stay on topic, please. This isn’t a social hour.”

The class fell silent, startled by his uncharacteristic tone. You glanced at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. He avoided your gaze, turning back to the whiteboard with rigid movements.

After class, as students filtered out, he called your name again.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, his voice softer now. “I was... out of line earlier.”

“It’s okay.” You replied, though you couldn’t hide your confusion.

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. “You have to understand,” he began, his voice dropping lower, “that I only want what’s best for you. Not everyone has your best interests at heart.”

“Are you talking about Ethan?”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer directly. “Just... be careful who you trust.”

The weight of his words hung heavy between you, and for the first time, you wondered if his concern was more than professional.

Later that evening, you found yourself thinking about him again, replaying the moments when his composure slipped, when his obsession peeked through the cracks. You didn’t know whether to be scared or thrilled.

But one thing was certain: Spencer Reid was unraveling, and you were the one pulling the thread.

The days that followed were an intricate dance of tension, each interaction with Dr. Reid pulling you closer to a dangerous edge. His jealousy, once simmering beneath the surface, began to bleed into every corner of your academic life, coloring the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, the way he made his presence impossible to ignore.

It started small.

Ethan asked you to partner up for a case study project, and though you agreed, the arrangement didn’t go unnoticed. During the next lecture, Spencer called on you repeatedly, his questions increasingly challenging, as if testing your limits. The rest of the class shifted uncomfortably, sensing the deliberate scrutiny, but you met his gaze head-on, refusing to falter.

Afterward, he lingered at the podium, watching as Ethan hovered near your seat, leaning down to talk to you. The sight made his stomach churn. He didn’t like how Ethan’s hand rested casually on the back of your chair, how his laughter seemed designed to draw your attention.

“Miss L/N, a word?” Spencer’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

“What’s this about?” You asked, crossing your arms.

He tilted his head, his gaze piercing. “I noticed you and Ethan are working together.”

“We are,” you said carefully. “Is there a problem?”

His jaw clenched. “No... as long as you’re confident he’ll contribute equally. He strikes me as the type to let others carry the weight of the work.”

You frowned. “That’s not fair. He’s been helpful so far.”

Spencer leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “Helpful isn’t always the same as trustworthy. Just keep that in mind.”

You stared at him, the intensity in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t just warning you—he was staking a claim, subtle but unmistakable.

The breaking point came during a departmental mixer, an event meant to encourage networking among students and faculty.

You had hesitated to attend, but Ethan insisted, offering to walk you there. Spencer spotted you as soon as you entered, his sharp eyes narrowing when he saw Ethan’s hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd.

He approached you moments later, his movements precise and deliberate. “Miss L/N, a pleasure to see you here.”

“Dr. Reid.” You greeted, your smile nervous under the weight of his gaze.

“And Ethan,” Spencer added, his tone clipped. “Enjoying the event?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Ethan replied, oblivious to the tension. “I was just telling Y/N about a conference coming up in D.C. She’s thinking about attending.”

“Is she?” Spencer asked, his eyes locking on yours.

Ethan nodded. “I might go too. We could share accommodations to save on costs.”

The suggestion made Spencer’s blood run cold. His mind spiraled with images of you and Ethan alone, the boundaries he fought so hard to maintain crumbling under the weight of his jealousy.

“That won’t be necessary.” Spencer said abruptly.

Both you and Ethan blinked in surprise.

“I mean,” he added, forcing a smile, “it’s likely the university will have funding options available for individual accommodations. I’d be happy to look into it for you, Miss L/N.”

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You said slowly, sensing the undercurrent of his words.

Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but Spencer cut him off with a glance so sharp it left no room for argument.

Later that evening, Spencer’s restraint finally snapped.

You stayed behind after the mixer to gather your things, only to find him waiting for you outside the building. The night air was cool, but the tension between you burned hot.

“You didn’t have to wait.” You said, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

“I wanted to.” He replied, his voice low and steady.

You walked in silence for a moment, the quiet punctuated by the rhythmic click of your heels against the pavement.

“Why do you do it?” He asked suddenly.

“Do what?”

“Let him follow you around like that. Laugh at his jokes. Entertain his attention.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. “Ethan’s my classmate. I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“It is my concern.” He said, stepping closer. “You don’t see the way he looks at you. The way he talks to you.”

“And how do you look at me, Dr. Reid?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice trembling.

His breath hitched, his carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble. “You know how I look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve known all along.”

The admission hung in the air, dangerous and electrifying. You stared at him, your heart pounding as he took another step closer, his presence overwhelming.

“This can’t happen.” He said, though his words lacked conviction.

“Then why are you here?”

He didn’t answer, but the intensity in his gaze spoke volumes. His hand twitched at his side, as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. The distance between you felt razor-thin, and for the first time, you wondered who would break first.

The silence stretched between you, taut and electrifying. Spencer’s jaw tightened, and his hand briefly raked through his hair—a telltale sign of his internal struggle. He was balancing on the edge of control, teetering between his professionalism and the unrelenting pull you had on him.

“You should go home.” He finally said, his voice low but strained, as if forcing the words out against his own desires.

You didn’t move. Instead, you tilted your head, studying him with a boldness that matched his intensity. “Is that what you want?”

His sharp intake of breath gave him away. “What I want doesn’t matter.” He said, but his eyes betrayed him, dark with longing.

You stepped closer, drawn to the crack in his carefully curated armor. “It matters to me.”

“Don’t.” He warned, but the word lacked strength, a faint plea wrapped in desperation.

You hesitated, caught between the thrill of provoking him and the awareness of the risk you were taking. Still, the magnetic pull between you was undeniable. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Spencer’s restraint snapped, just for a moment. He reached out, his hand hovering near your arm before he jerked it back as if burned. His expression twisted in frustration, his usual composure unraveling.

“You think this is a game?” He hissed, his voice harsh. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I’m not the only one doing it,” you shot back, emboldened by the fire in his eyes. “You can’t stand it when anyone else gets too close to me. Admit it.”

His silence was deafening, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the faint twitch in his cheek.

“I see the way you look at me,” you continued, your voice softer now, almost coaxing. “It’s not just admiration, Dr. Reid. It’s something more.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He muttered, turning away, but you caught the tremble in his voice.

“Then prove me wrong.” You challenged.

Spencer turned back to you, and this time, there was no mistaking the raw emotion in his gaze. “You want the truth?” He said, his voice dangerously soft.

You nodded, your pulse quickening.

“I think about you more than I should. I notice every detail—every time you laugh, every time you tuck your hair behind your ear. And when I see him talking to you...” He broke off, shaking his head. “It takes everything in me not to...”

“Not to what?” You pressed, your heart pounding.

His lips parted, but he seemed to catch himself, stepping back as if the space between you might restore his self-control. “Not to cross a line I can’t uncross…” He finally said, his tone heavy with regret.

But the heat in his gaze told a different story—a story of a man on the verge of losing himself to the very thing he’d been trying to resist.

The tension between you didn’t dissipate. If anything, it grew, seeping into every interaction like an unstoppable tide.

In class, his gaze lingered on you longer than was appropriate, his voice faltering slightly when he called on you. During office hours, his questions delved deeper, as if searching for something he couldn’t articulate.

But it was during a casual seminar that the cracks in his professionalism began to widen.

You had arrived early, taking a seat in the front row. As you flipped through your notes, Spencer entered the room, his eyes immediately seeking you out. He paused, visibly unsettled, before making his way to the podium.

As other students filtered in, Ethan arrived and, to your surprise, took the seat beside you. He leaned in, his tone light and teasing as he made some comment about the seminar topic.

Spencer’s expression darkened. He began the session, but his usual measured tone was tinged with an edge that made the room feel heavier. His eyes kept drifting to where you sat, his words sharper whenever he addressed you or Ethan.

When the seminar ended, Spencer was quick to dismiss the class. 

The classroom emptied, leaving the two of you alone. Spencer stood behind the podium, his hands gripping its edges.

“What was that?” He asked, his voice tight.

“What was what?” You replied, feigning innocence.

“You know exactly what I mean.” His gaze pinned you in place. “Him. Sitting next to you. Acting like he—” He broke off, shaking his head as if trying to compose himself.

“Acting like what?” You pressed, stepping closer.

“Like he has the right to your attention,” Spencer snapped, his professionalism unraveling further. “He doesn’t. Not the way I...”

He stopped himself, his chest rising and falling with restrained emotion.

“Not the way you what?” You asked softly, your voice carrying a mix of curiosity and challenge.

His eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. For a moment, you thought he might close the distance between you, shattering the boundaries he’d been clinging to.

Instead, he exhaled shakily and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “This needs to stop.” He muttered, though the words seemed directed more at himself than at you.

But even as he said it, the tension between you was palpable, an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the chaos it threatened to unleash.

The air between you felt suffocating, charged with a tension that had been building for weeks. Spencer stood before you, his normally composed demeanor unraveling with every passing second. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight as he tried to steady his breathing.

“I’ve tried,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to keep this professional. To keep my distance. But you...” He looked at you then, his gaze piercing and raw. “You make it impossible.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of exhilaration and fear coursing through your veins. “What are you saying?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“I’m saying that I can’t pretend anymore,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with something dark and desperate. “Every time I see you with him, every time I see you smile at someone else... I can’t stand it.”

You took a step closer, emboldened by the vulnerability in his confession. “Then don’t pretend.”

Spencer’s eyes darkened, his restraint crumbling as he closed the distance between you in an instant. His hands cupped your face, his touch firm but reverent, as though he’d been starving for this moment.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me…” He murmured, his voice shaky with need.

“Then show me.” you whispered, your breath ghosting against his lips.

That was all it took. Spencer’s mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was as fierce as it was desperate. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as though he needed you to breathe. The kiss was everything—pent-up frustration, unspoken desire, and a need that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. “This is wrong.” He muttered, though his hands still gripped your waist, unwilling to let you go.

“We don’t have to tell anyone.” You countered, your voice soft but insistent.

Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then his resolve broke entirely. His lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a declaration that you were his, consequences be damned.

Without a word, he guided you backward until you felt the edge of his desk against your hips. His hands roamed your sides, skimming over your curves with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted between kisses, his voice hoarse. “How many nights I’ve stayed awake, thinking about you. How hard it’s been to stay professional when all I want is to make you mine.”

“Then stop holding back.” You urged, your fingers clutching at his shirt as though afraid he might pull away.

Spencer’s response was immediate. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the desk with ease. His touch was everywhere—your hips, your back, your neck—each movement filled with a hunger that bordered on obsession.

“Tell me you want this.” He said, his voice low and commanding as his lips brushed against your ear.

“I want this,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair. “I want you.”

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “You have me,” he promised, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve always had me.”

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There were no rules, no boundaries—only the two of you, finally giving in to the undeniable pull that had been drawing you together all along.

He is the first to break the silence, his voice low and husky.

"Tell me what you want."

You hesitate for a moment, the words stuck in your throat. Then, quietly, you say, "I want you, Spencer."

He moves closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Tell me exactly what you want."

You swallow, feeling your heart rate quicken. "I want you to touch me, Spencer."

"Where do you want me to touch you?" He murmurs.

"Everywhere." You whisper, leaning into his touch.

He traces his fingers down your neck, his touch featherlight. "Here?"

You nod, your breath hitching as his fingers ghost over your collarbone.

He moves his hands down further, trailing his fingers across your chest. "I need words, sweet girl."

"Yes," You breathe, feeling your arousal growing.

He hums in approval, hands moving lower still, caressing the curve of your breasts. "And here?"

"Yes…" You repeat, arching into his touch.

He cups your breasts through your shirt, squeezing gently. "What about here?"

"Please…" You whimper, your voice barely audible.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "What else do you want, Y/N? Tell me."

You can feel your face flushing, but you can't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. "I want you to take my clothes off, Spencer. I want you to touch me everywhere."

He lets out a soft groan, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt. "God, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long."

Your shirt falls to the floor, leaving you exposed. His eyes roam over your body, hungrily taking in every inch of bare skin.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns across your stomach.

You gasp as he leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. His hands move lower, dipping below the waistband of your jeans.

"Spencer…" You moan, your hips bucking against his touch.

"Yeah, baby? What is it, sweet girl? Tell me what you need." He breathes, his fingers dancing along your inner thigh.

"I need you." You whimper, desperate for more contact.

He pulls away from you, his hands moving to undo his belt. He pulls his pants down, his hard cock springing free. Tip flushed pink, the same shade as his swollen kiss-bruised lips. He grabs your hips and lifts you onto the desk, his body pressed against yours.

"Is this what you want?" He asks, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes." You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushes his cock against your entrance, his eyes locked on yours. "Say it, Y/N. Say you want me."

"I want you, Spencer." You moan, feeling him slide into you.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, thrusting into you. "You're so tight."

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as he drives into you, again and again.

"Feels s’good." You babble, feeling the tip of his cock deep in your cervix, his hand coming down to rub calculated circles on your clit.

Spencer was a man of logic, of knowledge. But nothing could have prepared you for how skillful his hands could be in such a sinful context, hands you’d spent hours marking into the pages of your notebooks.

He fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "Such a pretty pussy, Y/N." He groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin.”My pretty pussy.” He delivers a quick slap to your pussy, sending a shock of pleasure through you, clit throbbing painfully.

"Oh, god, Spencer…" You cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

“You wanna cum for me, baby? Cum all over my cock?” He stares down at you with a look you know will be ingrained in your mind for as long as you breathe.

It doesn’t take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. Hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest. 

He follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

You look up at him, your eyes bright with satisfaction. "Do you think it was worth it?"

He smiles, stroking your hair. "I’d do it all again if it meant I could have you this way just one more time."

The first rays of dawn filtered through the blinds of Spencer’s apartment, casting faint golden stripes across the room. You stirred slightly in his arms, your body cocooned in the warmth of his embrace. Spencer had always been a light sleeper, but he hadn’t moved all night. His arms remained securely around you, as if even in sleep, he was afraid to let go.

For a moment, the world was still, the only sound was the gentle hum of the city waking up outside. In the quiet, you allowed yourself to revel in the stolen tranquility. These moments were fleeting, precious—time you carved out in secret, hidden from the eyes of the world.

“You’re awake.” He murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

You tilted your head back to look at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “So are you.”

“I don’t think I slept much,” he admitted, his fingers brushing idly along your arm. “It’s hard to sleep when I know every moment with you has to be hidden.”

You frowned slightly, guilt tugging at you. “I hate it too,” you said softly. “I hate that we have to pretend in class, that I can’t just... be with you without worrying who might see.”

His hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. They were warm, but behind the softness lay a steel determination. “It’s not forever,” he promised. “The semester is almost over. Once you’re no longer my student, no one can question us. No one can tell me it’s wrong to feel this way about you.”

You leaned into his touch, comforted by his words but still anxious about the risks. “Do you ever think about what would happen if someone found out?”

“Every day,” he admitted without hesitation. “But I think about losing you more. And that’s a risk I can’t take.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, heavy and grounding. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I’d risk it all for you, Spencer. You know that, right?”

He nodded, his expression softening as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I know. And I’d do the same for you. But until it’s safe, we have to be careful.”

The reminder of the outside world, of the boundaries you had to navigate, was sobering. Yet it didn’t dampen the connection between you. If anything, it strengthened your resolve.

Days in class were an intricate dance of restraint and subtlety. You sat in your usual spot, taking notes diligently as Spencer lectured at the front of the room. His demeanor was calm, professional, every word deliberate. To the untrained eye, he was simply your professor, and you, his attentive student.

But beneath the surface, every glance, every fleeting moment of eye contact held a world of unspoken words. When he paused to scan the room, his gaze lingered on you a fraction too long. When he walked past your desk, the faintest brush of his presence sent a shiver down your spine.

After class, you remained behind under the pretense of asking a question. The other students filed out, their chatter fading as the door closed behind them.

Spencer glanced at you, his professional mask slipping slightly as he leaned against the desk. “Is this about the assignment?” He asked, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a flicker of warmth.

“No,” you admitted, lowering your voice. “I just... I wanted to see you.”

His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, and he nodded toward the door. “Wait for me outside. I’ll finish here and meet you in the library.”

The library had become your haven, a place where the world’s watchful eyes couldn’t reach you. Tucked away in the farthest corner, surrounded by shelves of dusty books, you found refuge in each other’s company.

Spencer sat across from you, his hand resting lightly over yours on the table. “You know,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the library, “this hiding... it’s maddening. But there’s something exhilarating about it too.”

You raised a brow, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh? Dr. Reid enjoys breaking the rules?”

A low chuckle escaped him, his fingers brushing against yours. “When it comes to you? I’ll break every rule there is.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, you simply looked at him, your heart swelling with a mix of love and longing. “One more month,” you whispered. “Then no more hiding.”

“One more month,” he echoed, his voice filled with quiet determination. “And then I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Until then, you would continue this delicate balancing act, cherishing the stolen moments and weathering the secrecy together. Because in the end, he was worth it. And you knew that no matter how many rules you had to break, how many boundaries you had to navigate, you would never let him go.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: bigboy!ony x reader

warnings: smut18+, twt link, shitty writing

a/n: i haven't been on here in so long, let alone written anything. work, life, and school has consumed my entire being, so i apologize that this shit isnt anywhere near what my usual writing is. but i do miss writing, and i do miss being a freak so here you go

Bigboy!Ony is such a motherfuckin talker when he's in that shit.

he'll have you bent over on the bed feedin you slow deep strokes as he admired the way you responded to him in the mirror. “you still with me, ma?” he'll smirk down at you. there was no use hiding how good you felt as you mumbled out barely coherent reassurances, pulling your hips up just slightly to alleviate the intense amount of pleasure. “yeah?” his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you back “don't run from me, baby.” he'd shake his head slowly “you love me, right? youn run from things you love ma”

you were sure you could cum just off his voice alone. that smooth, tantalizing rich tone making your toes curl the moment it reached your eardrums. ugh lets not even get started on when he falls in love all over again. he'll just be mumbling to himself as he pushed some hair out of your face “fuck my baby so pretty” he'll groan and as if the compliments weren't making your knees weak he'd make you repeat it. “say it back ma, tell me you're pretty” oh, just how his words make the moment so much more intimate.

just when you think he's done he'll pull out and immediately start munchin. your hand instantly reaching behind you to push him back but that doesn't stop him. instead, youll hear him mumble protest into your pussy before he lifts his head up “just lemme eat ma. all you gotta do is breathe nd imma handle the rest” he'll reach for your hand like the loving boyfriend he is and continue to munch.

[norrisainz33]

Glimpse || OP81

☆ summary: oscar’s long time girlfriend is rather private and always has been despite her family’s fame. slowly but surely fans start to discover more about her!

☆ pairing: oscar piastri x laeno!sibling!private!reader

☆ fc & warnings: various girls from pinterest & slightly suggestive, you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes! sorry it took my literally forever. thank you for taking the time to request 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynlaeno has made a post 🔒

liked by nicolelaeno, oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclarenf1, yourbff, lilymhe, and 345 others

ynlaeno: festivals with my favorite sister means we get to serve fits again ✨

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lilymhe: you are so hot

ynlaeno: no baby girl that’s you

alexandrasaintmleux: the world really is your runway

ynlaeno: you are one to talk 🤤

yourbff: bestie when are you going to be a model and grace the world with your beauty

ynlaeno: sooner than you think!

oscarpiastri: 🤤🤤🤤 god you look good baby

ynlaeno: thank you handsome 😘

landonorris: gross get a room

oscarpiastri: we have and you were mad about that too

landonorris: yeah bc your drivers room is connected to mine!!

ynlaeno: boys please 🫠

nicoleaeno: i love you sissy 🤍

ynlaeno: i love you more

mclarenf1: the most iconic sister duo ever

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liked by user2, user1, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, and 10,238 others

f1gossip: everyone’s favorite wag, y/n, has been featured in her sister nicole’s most recent dance video!! this is the first time she’s been seen in a youtube video so this is big news and seems she’s as talented of a dancer as nicole!! maybe this is a sign that y/n’s finally going to share more

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user1: omg she can dance????? ugh i’m in love

user2: wondering if there’s anything y/n can’t do

user3: i wish we got to see her more often

user7: ugh me too y/n seems so cool

user4: i’m so jealous of their talent

user5: oscar is a lucky man , what i wouldn’t give for one chance

user8: no fr oscar is so lucky i mean look at her

user10: i’m begging one of you guys to get accepted as a follower on her insta so we can see what’s there

user13: working on it 😭

user9: y/n will forever be my favorite

oscarpiastri has made a post

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oscarpiastri: a week off means i get to follow the love of my life around and support her as she crushes the NY fashion week runway. i’m so proud of you y/n 🧡

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user1: FASHION WEEK?!

user2: she walked at fashion week?!?!?!? oh my GOD

user3: oscar im going to take your girlfriend

lewishamilton: congrats y/n! absolutely loved the collection

ynlaeno: thank you lew 😭

user5: y/n in her model era! lewis has competition fr

ynlaeno: osco 😭😭😭 thank you sweet boy

oscarpiastri: i love you gorgeous

ynlaeno: i love you more

oscarpiastri: simply not possible sweetheart

georgerussell63: and what can’t she do 💅🏻

ynlaeno: drive an f1 car!

georgerussell63: fair but you are good at karting! you even beat oscar last time!

user3: GEORGE DROPPING MORE LORE. she is good at karting??? y/n please let us know more about you im begging

mclarenf1: we love our fashion icon ynlaeno

user6: i knew this girl could dress but who knew she could own the runway too wtf

user7: y/n crumbs , thank you oscar

nicolelaeno has posted to her story

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user18: IS THAT Y/N?! SHE SINGS?!

user14: why is it that every day i learn of a new skill y/n possesses

user4: MOTHER Y/N

oscarpiastri: i can’t wait to see this 😍

nicolelaeno: it’s going to be a good one!! y/n FINALLY agreed to sing for me 🤍

yourbff: yesssss she finally decided to sing for a video?!

nicolelaeno: it only took a lot of bribing, begging and pleading!! ms girl loves her privacy but she’s too talented to not share

user16: just fell to the floor

ynlaeno: 👀 i’m so nervous for everyone to see this

nicolelaeno: don’t be, you’re so talented y/n/n 🫶🏻

nicolelaeno: plus the internet literally loves you

lilymhe: my talented bestie back at it again

user7: more y/n crumbs! thank you nicole

f1gossip has made a post

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f1gossip: this week on what lore are we going to learn about y/n: her and oscar were spotted out and about at an art gallery, she was in the background of an archery video that Nicole posted recently as well as a video from Nicole of y/n signing her favorite high school musical song and a video of her reading to a class of children has also surfaced. what do you all think about the ever elusive and private y/n being featured more often on social media?

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user1: i feel like in the past month alone i’ve learned more about y/n than i ever had before despite her and oscar being together for so long

user5: obsessed with this. i hope we keep seeing more of y/n

user6: y/n just casually being good at everything again

user7: talented, beautiful, kind ,,,, she is the total package

user11: oscar’s really winning with her

oscarpiastri: yes, i really am

user11: oh my god it’s him

user9: just give me one chance y/n

user13: chat i love y/n so much

user12: very demure, very mindful, very cutesy

oscarpiastri has posted a story

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user9: gnawing at the bars of my encloser

user93: oh this outfit is eating

logansargeant: ok lover boy

oscarpiastri: hehe that’s me

user56: oscar your page is becoming a y/n fan account

lilymhe: god dmn i’m in love

oscarpiastri: get in line 😭

lilymhe: NO

user7: y/n crumbs, thank you oscar!

ynlaeno: omg baby 🥹🥹🥹🥹

oscarpiastri: you’re so beautiful

ynlaeno: you’re too sweet

oscarpiastri: and you’re the love of my life

ynlaeno: and you’re mine forever 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: please tell her to send me that skirt

oscarpiastri: only if you send me leo in exchange

user8: i get it, if she was my girl id post her like this too

user66: OMG ITS HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM

user47: the way she went from 781 followers to 134,978 in 24 hours needs to be studied.

user6: this might be the most aesthetically pleasing feed i’ve ever seen

user8: the way oscar is in almost every single one of the comments saying how much he loves her and how beautiful she is 😭😭😭😭

user81: man is obsessed and i’m so here for it

user76 y/n’s biggest fan award goes to oscar 😭

user87: if my partner doesn’t hype up my every move like oscar does for y/n… i don’t want it

user32: oscar has single handedly raised my standards for men

user12: please tell me y’all saw all her story highlights of her singing

user16: don’t forget all the ones where she’s dancing 😭

user18: there’s nothing this girl can’t do

user98: i didn’t think i could love her more but honestly after this glimpse into her life,,,, i really do

ynlaeno has added to their story

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user66: HI (louder than everyone else)

user98: omg hi mother

alexandrasaintmleux: pretty girl!! i can’t wait to see you in singapore 🤍

ynlaeno: i can’t wait to see YOU!! its been too long since we had a girls night. let’s get dinner (without the boys 😉)

alexandrasaintmleux: yes please mon amor

oscarpiastri: pic credits?!

ynlaeno: thanks for the pic oscar, you’ve been trained well 😉

oscarpiastri: ☺️☺️☺️ i’m learning

ynlaeno: yes you are sweet boy

nicolelaeno: ok gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous. i miss you so much

ynlaeno: i miss you too bestie. i hope college is amazing

user56: i got a notif that you posted and got so excited

landonorris: you better text me before you drop THE post

ynlaeno: it’s taken me forever to pick the right pictures but it’ll be dropping shortly

landonorris: eeeeeeeeek

user9: first story on public omg 😭😭

lilymhe: i am outrageously obsessed with you

ynlaeno: and i’m obsessed with you my gorgeous bestie

user23: HI HI HI HI HI

ynlaeno has made a post

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ynlaeno: something so exciting happened that i had to share it with you all. welcome to the page of the future mrs. piastri 🤍

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ynlaeno: p.s. everyone say thank you lando for the impromptu photo shoot!! we love you dearly muppet 🫶🏻

oscarpiastri: thank you lando!

landonorris: you are so welcome. love you both to the moon and back ❤️

user4: no this is the cutest interaction i’ve ever seen im sick

user37: lando taking the pictures of them has me violently crying

user68: knowing lando took these pictures….. this might be the best thing to ever happen to me

oscarpiastri: i can’t wait to marry my best friend!! i love you my fiancé

ynlaeno: FIANCÉ!!! i know that’s right 🤍

user38: i love love

user27: THIS IS AN ICONIC FIRST PUBLIC POST

nicoleleano: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

ynlaeno: me too bestie

user45: icon status wow

georgerussell63: congratulations 🤍

ynlaeno: thanks georgie 🤍

lilymhe: i’m openly weeping 😭😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🤍🤍🤍

ynlaeno: 🤍🫶🏻😭

user96: she’s so real for this i’d come off private to brag about being engaged to the oscar piastri too

nicolepiastri: congrats you two 🧡

ynlaeno: thank you mama p 🤍

user46: best day ever for annoying ppl (me)

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! been busy with life and also having trouble with ideas. hoping to get back into the swing of things during fall break 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[bluublu-blub]

yan! ex husband (cont.)

Things got a little messy with my life within 5 days after I uploaded. I was almost disowned but things are better now. I was planning on uploading soon but I only got time now.

next

You barely remember when it started —when was the last time he sat down and spent time with you instead brushing you off in your rare times of rest. You do understand how time consuming his daily activities are. He was, after all, a professor by day and a medical student at night. So, you would smile at him and assure him that you always understand and you are fine with less date nights and hangouts. But, you were only asking a bare minimum from him —you just want some time where you both just sit in each other’s presence and let the silence be because it brought you comfort.

You just want to know that he is still there.

That, in some way or form, you still matter.

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it is a right choice to get married as soon as you both finished your undergraduate degrees.)

(You brush the traitorous thoughts away from your mind.)

Just a little more. You can still wait.

–

Was it by a stroke of unfortunate circumstances, you wonder as you watched him grinned widely as he finished med school and immediately was recruited to some hospital while his words came from one ear to another. He seems so happy and less stressed as you try to keep up with him. 

“What do you think, love?”

What do you think? 

“What?”

“I asked if we can move closer to my workplace?” He repeated and you felt that once again your world froze. “It will be a different environment from here. The distance is a little over five hours in this place. Wouldn't it be more convenient?”

“Oh, yeah.” Convenient for him, sure. But, what about your career? “But, it will be far from mine.”

He brushed you off. “Well, you can always quit right?” Then he moved on to the next topic as if you agreed.

Oh.

Do you really matter to him at all?

–

You often heard from your friends that sometimes being together wouldn’t be enough if the relationship becomes stagnant and prison for your well-being. You had denied everything that is slowly ruining your relationship for years now, you let go of your convictions, passions, and dreams just for him. Let him shine and soar high while you are left scrambling in the ground. 

It was not like this before. 

Before, he listened. He was there before, there used to be a lot more love and smiles. 

Home was him before.

Home is not him now.

—

You stared at the documents in your hand, you had talked to your attorney about the procedures and now you need his signature.

“Love?” He’s back early for a change.

It’s time to end this godforsaken marriage and choose yourself for once.

“I need you to sign this.”

There is no going back to the past.

[redheadspark]

Miss

Summary - Azriel missed you on his latest mission, and he shows you how much he has missed you

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is a SMUT one piece, NO MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer, apologies in advance!

You were right at the peak, beyond close to tipping over and having that euphoria of pleasure consume you once again for the fifth time that night.  But then again, you were wishing not to let go just yet, this was the right amount of pleasure that was now wrapping around your bones and consuming you from the inside out.  All thanks to the Illyrian Spymaster above you who was taking his sweet time fucking you.  

This was his game: the game of Azriel the Shadowsinger of Night Court.

All you could breathe was Azriel, all you could feel was Azriel, and all you could ever experience was Azriel. There was no doubt that this was the best kind of drug that you could ever consume and need in your face life, even after 300 hundred years together as mates.  Azriel snuck into your life, someone you never saw coming when you were introduced by Mor.  There was no instant explosion of lust, nor was it bone dry and unfeeling.  It felt like you were slipping into a warm bath, your muscles unwinding instantly and a sigh of relief on your lips as you two shook hands for the first time.  Although you were friends at first, you both knew deep down that you were going to be connected in some way.

It only took a few years after meeting and building your friendship to feel the bond take place. From there on out, it was game over.

Azriel never stopped his hips, his toned muscles along his backside were working on overdrive as he was having over you while fucking you with such precision laced with intimacy and devotion, it was almost tooth aching.  But this was how Azriel worked when you two were in the throws of pleasure, going in right for the kill at the very beginning and then taking his time later on.  His patience in giving you pleasure could not be measured by any other, though you were not one to complain at all.  If he could, he could keep you on edge for hours on end and still have the drive to make you come undone within seconds.

Azriel was good at this game, and you would let him win every time.

"Oh fuck, my love," He growled against your cheek as his hips were still rolling.  Your legs were parted easily, sore for being spread for some time but now the feeling now a dull ache.  Just feeling his toned muscles and body against your own was enough for you to forget your thighs that were shaking.  His arms braced your head as your arms clung to his shoulders, feeling a bit of his wings as they were tucked against his back.  He kissed your cheek a few times as you were holding on for dear life, hearing him murmur, "I don't think I can ever stop,"

"Fuck…fuck don't stop," You moaned and pleaded as he gave a few hard thrusts, having your eyes roll back as his smile against your jaw was evident.

"I won't ever leave you that long ever again," He swore, engraining it in your skin as you bit your lower lip and moved one of your hands to run into his sweaty locks, "It was too….fuck…too long away from you, from being able to touch you like this…"

As if on cue, he moved one of his hands from being near your head to rubbing your clit, having you moan loudly and curl into him as the pleasure was now heightened to the tenth degree.  You were putty in his hands, and Azriel smirked from feeling you shake once his thumb rubbed your clit slowly and deliberately.  

You both knew you needed this night together, Azriel being away for almost an entire month thanks to Rhysand and his need for Azriel and his Spymaster ability.  Rhysand was on a tour of sorts to the other Courts, his own way of keeping peace with the other High Lords and going over the treaties that were signed.  Rhsyand was more than willing to go on his own, not letting High Lady Feyre come nor their own Nyx.  Feyre was running Night Court without him and Nyx was too young.  If left him having both Cassian and Azriel come along with him, Cassian talking to other army commanders in other courts, and Azrile being a second pair of eyes and ears in those meetings.

You were left alone from your mate for that long month, keeping busy and helping your High Lady.  But you weren't going to lie and say you didn't miss your mate, his company with you, your talks together, and most of all, the intimacy with him.  There was no doubt you two had a healthy sex life, a very healthy one at that.  The jokes from Rhysand and Cassian about Azriel and his high energy in bed were always evident when you and Azriel just got together, though you never let it affect you.  

But you knew those rumors were true when you and Azriel first slept together.  

"Azriel…Az please.." You mewled as his thumb was still rubbing your clit and his hips were still going at a constant cadence that was both filthy and yet touching at the same time.  Azriel knew how to fuck and he fucked well, no matter how many times you two were together like this, he made your heart soar and your moans sound lethal.  This night was no different, Azriel starting off the night instantly as you two made it back to your penthouse home in the city.  Azriel left his hesitance at the door, perching you on the edge of the kitchen island as he sank to his knees and dived in between your legs within seconds.  Shaking and moaning with no shame, you felt yourself cumming within two minutes of him licking into your pussy with just his tongue alone.  Watching your orgasm and your shake on the counter drew more desire from him, his chin still glistening from your release as he then licked his own fingers to have a second round with you.

Another four minutes, you came from his fingers.  Azriel was only warming up.

"Please what, my love?" He asked as he watched your eyes dilated and your lips parted in pleasure as he was still pounding into you slowly and with deep precision, "There is no way I can be done with you when you look and feel like this, beyond words,"  He lightly bit your jawline as you huffed and bit your lower lip, "I can't get enough of you, ever.  Nothing else has ever come close in my love, and I don't want anything else,"

You moaned, both from his words and how on edge you were.  He nuzzled into your cheek for a brief moment, breathing in your scent that was mixed with sex as he leaned back to be sitting on his legs.  Seeing you sprawled on your satin sheets, a gift from Rhysand on your wedding day, blissed out in pleasure with your hair plastered to your neck and cheeks and your eyes wide in love, Azriel thought you were heavenly.  His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, your pussy aching both in intense pleasure and lust as he drank in the sight of you.  He wanted this picture for the rest of his days, Inca se he had to go away again and think of you deep in the night for him to have something to come back to.

This night alone was memorable, fucking you against the shower wall as the water went cold against his back, then taking you from behind on the bathroom floor moments after turning off the water in the shower.  Which led to you two tangled on your bed, you riding him with a new core of desire in your belly.  But this, being pinned under Azriel as he was relentlessly fucking you into the mattress, was beyond words and made you feel like you were floating out of your body. 

Azriel was a pro at this.

"Cauldron, you're breathtaking," He hummed in lust as he was watching you while still perched over you, his cock rock hard inside your pussy as you lazily grinned.  You were still on edge, but that ache was nothing new for you in how he would draw this out for as long as he could to make your orgasm mind-numbingly amazing.  You reached up with one spare hand, Azriel then leaning down to have you cradle his face with your palm.  But your fingers were near his lips, you tracing his Lowe lips to feel how plump they were and you moaned.

"Gods you're divine," You moaned as his hazel eyes drilled into your own.  Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth to let two of your fingers slip into his mouth lustfully.  His tongue along your digits, with the wicked grin on his face, was enough to make you scream as his hips were moving again.  It was such a site, Azriel fucking you deeply and with new pent-up energy as he was sucking your fingers made you teeter on edge all over again.  You were so close, the feeling there along your spine and under your eyes as you were now babbling at him, knowing it was a turn-on for him to hear you moan and whimper his name.

"Fuck me…please fuck me….make me cum….make me cum.  Now, Az.  Now….I wanna cum…" You were repeating it like a mantra as he was drilling his hips again and again.  Nothing else was in your head, only the love you had for Azriel and how much he cherished you in his life.  He placed you first in all his choices and decisions as a Spymaster, choosing the less threatening missions and fights just to keep himself safe to come home to him.  How he loved you with both his words and his actions whenever he could.  Azriel felt as if you two being mates was fate for him, meant to be, and nothing would change that for him in his mind. Not even the Cauldron itself would take you away from him.  

And watching you orgasm, howling in pure pleasure and euphoria was enough for Azriel to also fall over the edge.  He felt himself empty inside of you, the sense of love and relief all over his body as his wings shot out in the moment of him summing.  The release, the new layer of love that was unleashed with the both of you, made Azriel almost float to the sky if he could.  

He would choose you over anything, over anyone, in this lifetime or beyond.  

Finally feeling boneless, he collapsed on top of you and held you close, still deep inside of you but not wishing to lose that connection anytime soon.  Holding you close, he breathed you in as your fingers were tracing his arms with the tips of your fingers.  Azriel held you like a jewel, delicately and with possession at the same time, while his lips were pecking along your neck and shoulder.  No matter how many times you two would fuck, there was still the foundation of you two loving each other.

Loving each other through the highs of your life and the lows.  Through the tragedies and the joy.  Azriel loved you with everything in him, you grinning against his head as you finally found your voice.

"If you intended on giving me the best sleep, then you have done well, my love," You said against his forehead.  Ariel laughed, the vibration of his laughter was against your neck as he held you a pinch tighter.

"You bring this side of me out in the best way," He cooed, then moved his head up to be eye to eye with you as your gaze on him lingered with affection.  He paused, looking you over and feeling the sensation of peace between the two of you.  Even in the tossed sheets and deep in the night, you both were back to the solid foundation of your love together.

"I've missed you so," He whispered to you, making your heart flutter as he nuzzled your nose with his.

"Not as much as I missed you," You hummed back, ruffling his hair as he leaned in to kiss you.  

The End

[farfromstrange]

S.M.S | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Getting intimate with Matt in the morning on a lazy Sunday.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), SMS (soft morning sex), slight Dom!Matt, praise kink, use of "good girl", unprotected p in v, slight choking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, slight (very slight) breeding kink, mention of cum eating, use of "my wife"

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n: This is pure filth with no plot. I don't know what came over me. I'm so desperate for this man, it's not even funny anymore. I'm gonna take a cold shower because writing this made me feel some kind of way... anyway, enjoy this little smut piece! Diving right in under the cut (with a gif), so minors, scramble!

Read me on AO3

The morning sun streams in through the windows. In the distance, a few birds are chirping at the top of their little lungs. A car honks. The people of Hell’s Kitchen are slowly waking up and going about their weekend. 

All the noise doesn’t matter to you though. The four walls you call home form a protective shield around you, and the only music in the air is the mixed sound of your moans and Matt’s strong thighs meeting the back of yours as he thrusts his thick cock into the tight confines of your cunt.

He’s behind you, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the front, and the other holds on tight to your hip. He moves your body back against his, thrusting into you over and over again at a gentle pace. You don’t have to do anything but take his long, deep, and slow strokes that you can feel in your stomach. 

With every thrust, the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside of you. The spot that makes your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and stars erupt in front of your eyes. It makes your entire body give in to the compelling pull of absolute pleasure, the coil within you tightening and tightening and tightening, but still too far away to explode. 

Matt’s fingers are rough, but when they touch you, they remind you of soft feathers, always making sure not to hurt you. He pours his love into his touch like a poet would bleed his soul into his rhymes. His touch burns into your being—into the essence of who you are—and it consumes you to the point that you could never forget the feeling of Matt Murdock touching you. Sometimes it’s rough, sometimes it’s sensual, but it’s always full of unconditional love.

His sweaty skin slaps against yours. He drags his cock out of your cunt again, slowly, until only the tip remains inside, and you whimper at the loss. He grunts into your ear. The sound of your wetness collecting around his shaft, pouring down your thighs together with his pre-cum like an overfilled glass of white wine, reverberates in his ears. It drives him crazy.

Matt grunts, and he pushes back into you. The squelching sound that your slick folds make is not only audible to him. 

You convince yourself that you can feel every single vein along his cock as he fills you in a way only he can. You can feel him twitch, already so sensitive from a sloppy morning fuck—but are you even fucking or are you, in the most literal sense of the word, making love? Are you being primal and animalistic or are you being gentle with each other? It’s more of the latter, you suppose. Neither of you is in a rush. It’s early morning on a Sunday. All you need is each other after life kept you separate for most of the past week. What you have and what you are doing right now is raw, unbridled intimacy—and a primal need that you need to satiate. 

His stubble scratches against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You moan again. The added stimulation intensifies the burning in your core. The position he has got you in allows him to go deeper, but it tightens your walls to the point it’s almost painful. It’s not unlike you to crave a little pain with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Matt growls into your ear. “I can feel your pulse against my cock. Do you know how fucking lewd that sounds?”

“Oh, God!” Your eyes roll back, and your toes curl as you moan his name again and again. 

He chuckles roughly. “Never heard something more beautiful.”

“Matt, please,” you beg without knowing what you’re begging for.

You want to come. You want to clench your walls around his cock and cover him in your wetness until the sheets are soaked; you want him to fill you up with his cum until you’re stuffed to the brim, and you want him to eat it out of you like a starved caveman, but you also don’t want this to end. 

You want to keep feeling him just like this, in every ounce of your body, consuming you whole, and loving you endlessly, emotionally, and physically. 

He smiles against your heated skin. Again, he kisses your shoulder. His hand comes to rest around your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweetheart,” he commands.

You inhale sharply. How could you ever disobey him? You lift your leg as he told you to, and he grabs your thighs with his hand, throwing it over his own. You’re on your side, spread wide open for him—over him. His cock hits even deeper, even further than before, and you ask yourself if that is even possible. He’s just so fucking thick. 

“There you go,” Matt purrs, his lips pressing to your ear. The sweat dripping down his temple mixes with yours and soaks into your skin. “Good girl.”

The good girl gets you. It gets you every time. Praise from him is like being praised by a higher entity. Your walls tighten in a vice grip. 

He groans. The groan is so deep it makes his chest vibrate, and his hand tightens around your neck ever so slightly. It’s enough to make you gasp. 

You cling to him. Your nails drag over the hairs on his forearm. The moan you let out sounds high-pitched and too far away to grasp, but he hears it. He hears it all.

And then Matt—that fucker—reaches his free hand between your legs and he cups your wet pussy. His cock still thrusting in and out of you scrambles the words in your brain and turns them into desperate mewls.

He curses when you clench down around him. “You take me so well,” he never fails a beat with the praise, knowing just when to use it to pull a response out of you.

You reach behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair. The strands are sweaty, sticking to his skin, and you wish you could see more than his stubble. You wish he would tilt his head down to kiss you. Instead, you have to press your lips to the skin of his neck, tracing your tongue over his pulse points and tugging at his hair. That is how you can taste him. 

You are needy and desperate, and your body is the one thing in control. You couldn’t form a coherent thought even if you tried. It’s just him, his hands, and his cock; he consumes you, all of you, without mercy.

Your touch burns his fuses. He whimpers. You love it when he does that. When he sounds wrecked for you. Only for you. You are the only one that can make him feel this way.

His hand disappears from your cunt. “Open,” he instructs. 

Out of instinct, you open your mouth. He slides the three fingers in the middle between your lips, pushing down on your tongue until you gag like you would on his cock. 

“That’s it. Get them nice and wet for me so I can rub your clit.”

You moan, swirling your tongue around the digits. You suck on them. The saliva drips from the corner of your mouth, down his forearm.

“Gonna make you come, okay?” Matt pants. It turns him on just how messy he can get you, and every time anew, he sees how far he can go. He gives another harsh thrust, then adds, his voice still beyond breathless, “Make you come all over my cock.” 

A strangled moan escapes him, and it is like porn to you. 

When he finally kisses your cheek, you turn your head to meet his lips. As soon as you taste him and yourself on his tongue, you’re done for.

He cups your pussy again, this time rubbing all three fingers you just sucked over your sensitive clit. You howl. Your back arches away and at the same time into his touch–you’re going to burst soon, you know it. 

As if he read your mind, he presses his fingers just below your jaw. The rhythm of his fingers on your clit matches the pounding of his cock, and he skilfully drags his thrusts along your G-spot. 

You pull at his hair. “Matt. I’m gonna–” The words are too much to utter at this time.

“I know,” he coos. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Fuck!”

“Come for me.”

The coil snaps, sending a shockwave rippling through your entire body, and drowning you in ecstasy. Your thighs quiver and you shout his name like a prayer. You’re falling, and there seems to be no end in sight. No one to catch you. 

You come long and hard, his thrusts faltering as you suck him in and clench with the sheer force of your orgasm. Instinctively, you pull your leg back to shut them and keep him trapped inside, but his hand stops you. 

“Keep your legs open,” Matt says.

You cry out. With every thrust, with every flick of his finger over your already sensitive clit, he drives you deeper into a state of overstimulation.

“I want you to give me another one, baby. One more, and I’ll fill you up. Please.”

It doesn’t take long for you to be back on that edge. You intertwine your fingers with his on your throat. The perfect necklace. 

Matt pulls out again. You tilt your hips back, forcing him back inside. “I’m gonna come,” you warn him. 

It hasn’t even been two minutes since he last made you, but he knows just how to keep you on edge. That way, he can drag several orgasms out of you, each more intense than the other. He has made it his mission to ruin you for any other man.

When you come this time, Matt lets you snap your thighs shut as your entire body shakes in his arms. You cry out, bucking your hips, and clinging to his hand, but it isn’t enough. 

He thrusts upward into you once more, and then he’s coming, too. His hot cum spurts into your cunt. For a moment, he stills completely. 

Matt sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the copper taste exploding on both of your tongues, but a little blood has never turned you off. 

He fucks his cum into you, slowly, passionately, making sure that no drop goes to waste. Only when he’s satisfied does he stop, and he allows the two of you a moment to breathe.

Thump, thump, thump. Your heart begins to slow down. 

“Holy shit, Matthew,” you murmur. 

He chuckles, smoothing the spot where he dug his teeth into over with his tongue. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Oh, good morning, indeed.” A satisfied giggle passes your lips. “I think we just woke the neighbors.”

“What time is it?”

You peek at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Half past ten,” you say.

“Then it’s not a disturbance of the peace,” he states as a matter of fact. 

“It’s not?”

“Nah.” He pulls out, rolling over to pull you into his side. “A noise complaint would never hold up in court. Even if they filed one, I’m a really good lawyer,” he says, “and I will defend my wife’s pleasure until the day I die.”

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[shrenvents]

Hi love, you have an amazing imagination, and I love your writing style. I was wondering if you could maybe do some more with Wolverine. I'm in that x men stage again. And I loved you last piece of work on him. Maybe you could do a continuation of it or think of something completely new. Anyway, dont feel pressured ❤️

A/N: ur actually so sweet, thank uu! I'm also rlly shocked but appreciative of all the love Professor Howlett received, so u don't even have to ask twice for more, it's my pleasure ;)

Divided Attention

Professor Howlett II

Part one

Warnings: minors dni, Smut, fluff, language, jealousy, (legal) age gap, oral, f!receiving, semi-public

Pairing: Logan x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Things were going well with you and Logan, until he suddenly put distance between you both, acting strangely. On top of that, you catch him threatening one of your fellow classmates and have no choice, but to face your issues, head-on.

Word count: 2.6k

…

Any small moment together, Logan and I chased. The little highs we could derive from our busy schedules, we eagerly pursued.

From a quickie in the janitor's closet, a make-out session after class, or a passionate sleepover, Logan consumed every inch of my life. He was consuming every bit of my mind, and an ominous trepidation was closing in, alongside him.

The more I saw him, the greedier I became. Desperate to see and feel more of him, beyond the surface. So, it was no surprise, that I soon desired something more from our casual relationship.

With graduation just around the corner, I was almost home free. Free to outwardly tell him what I yearned for.

But the concern that racked my brain constantly, that trepidation, was whether he wanted the same.

As I was getting to know him, it was clear there were parts of him I had yet to discover, parts he seemed reluctant to reveal. Sometimes he would be open, close by my side. The next second, he would shut down.

What made matters worse, was that recently, he hadn't sought me out. It's felt as though he's no longer hungry for those small moments, that I still very much craved.

Now I'm on edge and have no clue what he's thinking, or what he thinks of us.

...

The day started like any other. I went to each class, exhausted and disinterested, till that afternoon. Something caught my eye, and the eyes of the school's populace: Logan pinning a male student to the wall of the vast, oak wood hallway.

They speak in hushed tones to one another, and the boy looks beyond frightened, while Logan looks ready to tear his head from his scrawny neck.

It takes only a moment for my alarm to pass, and for me to note, that this boy sits next to me in history.

A sharp intake of breath hitches in my throat.

His name's Mikey, and he has been a nuisance to Logan from the get-go, long before our intimate affair. Labelled as the class clown, Mikey uses his obnoxious voice and meddling powers to disturb Logan's lessons, daily. To top it off, Mikey consistently bothers me, mimicking what I say, and staring at my profile, for far too long.

Just when Logan dips his head closer to Mikey, perhaps to rip out his jugular, like the predator he is, Scott interjects.

"Logan! Drop him!" When Scott's unnerved voice orders Logan, my eyes snap to Mikey's feet, which are spraddled in the air, dangling for dear life.

I guess a few days apart made me forget just how strong he is. Maybe he's just too gentle with me to remember.

As his feet slowly lower to the floor, gasps and murmurs flood the halls, and my head frantically shoots around, surprised by the crowd of avid onlookers.

Eyes anxiously surveying the students, I hone in on Logan again, flinching when seeing his pupils, already fixed on me.

He releases Mikey immediately, retracting from him while Scott grabs his bicep, heatedly whispering into his ear, and Mikey scrambles away.

Logan's eyes shy from mine and my mouth gaps. He almost looks, embarrassed. 'Huh?'

Soon, other teachers arrive to intervene, shooing students from the crime scene.

So, aimlessly wandering outside, into the courtyard, hoping to clear my head, I think back on our classes together. Every time Mikey acted up, Logan seemingly couldn’t care less, looking more spent overall, than unsettled by his brazen jokes.

It was kind of funny, seeing Mikey quaking in his boots at the older male. It was only yesterday, that he spoke to me with such forwardness, and to Logan with such rudeness, carrying that typical smug expression -it was nice to see it wiped clean.

I laugh to myself, disbelieving what just transpired. I can only imagine what errand Professor Xavier will make Logan do to atone, or what bonding exercise he and Mikey may perform...

While I trudge down the stone steps, onto the vivid green field, I spot the devil himself, Mikey. He sits under the shade of a grand willow tree, dome hung between his bent knees.

Feeling rather empathetic, I stroll towards him, stopping in front of his feet. Evidently noticing my bright attire, his head pops up, and his dewy eyes widen.

"You alright?" I ask warily and his bottom lip trembles. He sniffs once, toughening up before responding, "I'm good." I nod, then look at the endless landscape to my right. "Whatever you did must've really been something, Mr. Howlett's rarely that peeved."

"You're telling me," he huffs sarcastically, sounding pained. Shifting, I sit beside him, maintaining some space. "If you don't mind me asking, what was that about?" Mikey pauses, thinking hard.

"No clue," he mumbles pitifully. I gawk at him, brows creasing. He peers at me and copies my appearance. "I'm not lying," he exclaims defensively. "There's no way," I retort, scoffing.

"If you don't fucking believe me, why ask," Mikey spits, mumbling "bitch" as he shoots to stomp off.

Suspiring, my crown gingerly falls onto the tree's trunk. Finding comfort in its rugged bark, I calmly savour the crisp air.

I close my eyes, for what feels like a few minutes until a fierce call of my name grips my consciousness. Eyelids cracking open, my vision focuses on Mr. Howlett himself, standing in all his glory, glaring down at me with a brooding look.

"If it isn't the man of the hour," I giggle humourlessly, straightening my spine, but choosing not to stand and seem intimidated, like he evidently wishes me to be.

"You have a nice chat?" Logan questions with an irked tone, obviously remarking on my 'chat' with Mikey. 'Was he watching us?'

I tilt my head defiantly. "I'm not picking sides," I raise both hands in surrender, smiling from ear to ear. His eye faintly twitches, and I nearly gulp. He grumbles incomprehensible nonsense, then chooses to stay relatively quiet, which is unlike him.

"Do you have something to say? Or are you just gonna stand there?" I inquire venomously.

Clearly dispising my attitude, he concentrates on my face, scowling. His features have rage written all over them, but I refuse to bow out of this impending feud.

He grumbles under his breath again, and I break.

"Speak up!" I shout, swiftly bringing my gaze to our surroundings, making sure we're alone -which is something Logan clearly isn't worried about.

"What the fuck do you two have to talk about?" He just about growls and I tense, stunned. My face contorts with perplexity. "Me and Mikey?" I question, and his eyebrows nearly conjoin in response. "Not much, just discussing you're outburst," heaving, I continue, "though he didn't have much to say on the topic," sighing, "you?"

His nostrils flare slightly, and I do my best to appear composed. "What else have you talked about?" He grunts, and I roll my eyes, rising to my feet, bored with our conversation. "What's it to you?" I ask rhetorically, internally referring to the distance he'd been building between us.

Moving elsewhere, I roughly brush past his shoulder. He doesn't immediately reply, but trails after me as I march further into the courtyard.

"The fuck you on about?" Logan vulgarly rumbles, and I forget to speak.

My pace then staggers when he delicately wraps his digits over my forearm, tugging me, almost cautiously, backward.

Square to him, I discern his thumb tracing my skin lightly, before finally looking at him. He examines his finger as it sweeps across my flesh. "Logan?" I carefully utter, and his eyes stay glued to where our bodies meet.

"Why do you talk to him," he pauses, snarling with emphasis on 'talk,' yet again. Then he murmurs, "-When you have me?" He’s so quiet, that the words are barely audible. My features instantly soften. “Are you,” I hesitate, “Jealous?”

When he doesn’t answer, I gasp so loud, that my palm slaps over my mouth. He looks around, avoiding eye contact as I grasp the situation. “Did you threaten Mikey 'cause he yaps to me in class?”

Logan scorned the very idea of jealousy, cruising his head in a circle, to showcase his exasperation. I smirk uncontrollably and he snits. "Don't flatter yourself Princess," he remarks blatantly. My smirk only expands. "I can't believe you," I laugh hysterically and he motions like he's going to walk away, but he stays put, and I know I've won.

"Don't pull that face," he complains, gesturing to my proud look.

"What face?" I ask, playing naive, faintly swinging my body side to side. "Just stop talking to him, he's a bad influence," he grunts, peering off to the horizon. I giggle, "Or what? Do you intend to beat every boy who speaks to me?" I counter, and he struggles to fight a smile.

"What if I do," Logan more or less declares.

Shaking my head, "You've got some nerve," I huff, "seeing as you've been avoiding me lately."

"I haven't been avoiding you-"

I interrupt, "Oh yes, you have," playfully punching his gut with a grin, which drops the second my knuckles practically grow a heartbeat. "Ow," I breathe and at last, he laughs.

When Logan's laugh dims, he looks almost sullen. "Didn't think you'd notice," he mumbles and I quirk my chin in confusion. "You seem preoccupied." Gapping at him once more, he rolls his eyes, showing his teeth. "Don't gimme that damn look girl," he heaves, "you're young and, and-"

"And what?"

"Attractive," he sighs heavily, "you don't need an old man weighing you down."

I still, catching his genuine displeasure and defeat. It's like he's disappointed I may seek romance from someone else, but accepts it regardless, for my sake, my happiness.

My heart thumps irregularly and I feel like jumping his bones. I release a lengthy sigh, with a smile twinkling. His brow rises questioningly, seeming anxious about a reaction to his masked insecurity.

"What?" He bites.

"I'm relieved," his confusion visibly progresses. "I thought you were tired of me." As his mouth opens, to probably insult my intelligence, I cut in. "I wanna go steady with you, if that wasn't obvious already." My smile grows sheepish, then taunting, "I like you Lo, and clearly you must love me."

Like he's been holding his breath, a loud puff of air escapes his chapped lips, and I shamelessly watch as he wets them.

"You've gotta be the strangest girl I've ever met," he utters with a smirk forming, and I return one, interpreting his words as a declaration of love.

"Woman," I correct, then babble jokingly, "refined Lady." He confidently strides closer. "Mistress-"

The air leaves my lungs as his solid arms devour me, squeezing tightly.

"You best realize what you're committing to," Logan comments, lightly lifting strands of my hair with his fingertips, to kiss my neck. "That means, no more talking to boys," he grunts, humour coaxing his tone. "Especially ones so far out of your league," he pulls his head back, to peer at my expectant face, "It's not even funny," he finishes with a grin.

I laugh, unable to contain my joy, quickly hiding my wild smile in his chest. A pleased hum rumbles in tune with his heavy breathing, and I listen to his heartbeat's fairly, rapid pace.

For a while, we stay present in each other's arms, with fulfillment and ease consuming our beings, synchronously. Logan's fingers drift across my lower back, leisurely tracing my curves.

"I like you, so much," I whisper airly because the words couldn't be repressed, and had escaped. His hands gradually slow to a halt, till he abruptly draws back. He looks at me, with such intense seriousness, that I shudder.

Then, he pulls away entirely, taking my hand in his larger one, to drag me deeper into the field -into the overgrown areas, looted with massive trees and bushes.

"Logan?" My whisper transforms into a squeak when I'm hauled behind various, untrimmed hedges. His palms grope my hips, stilling me before he drops to his knees. I ogle his smug face as it bores into me, before he wrestles with my pink, low-waisted, jean shorts, impatiently dragging them down my plump thighs. He mumbles, "Ridiculous" when his eyeline levels with my purple, close-to-sheer underwear.

Like my shorts, he yanks them down to my ankles, then swiftly encloses his mouth over my cunt, swiping the folds with his tongue. I throw the back of my hand over my incoming yelp, biting down to muffle it.

"Is this you tryna to deflect admitting you really like me?" I joke meekly as my mouth parts from my hand, but I quickly chomp down again, when he licks me, with a long flick of his tongue. I gasp and whimper, using my spare hand to claw at his scalp for leverage, as he hungrily laps my pussy, sucking on its nub.

A tremor racks my insides, eliciting spasms while he builds up a powerful, but excruciatingly relaxed pace. His bulky digits move to relentlessly rub my clit, applying a rhythmic pressure that makes me sob.

Logan shushes me, mouth still buried in my folds. The buzz of his voice sends shivers through my core, and the strength of his action grows, acknowledging my imminent finish.

“Eyes on me,” Logan basically growls, before diving back into my cunt.

I muffle a cry of his name with a fist now, biting my knuckles. Then, I look from the heavens, back down to the one hand I still have, clenching his silky locks.

My knees begin to buckle and his sizeable palms relocate to support my hips, with his fingertips bordering my ass, kneading it. "I'm close," I gasp, barely audible through my hand. He hums again, and when it elicits another shiver, and shake of my frame, I tumble over his back, wrecked by my climax.

Now hunched over him, with my hands splayed down his torso, I tremble furiously, coming down from my high. I can't help but whine when Logan continuously licks me. He tastes every inch of me like I'm the meal of a lifetime, like I'm oxygen itself.

"Enough," I choke, as my arousal becomes too much. His response is simply plunging further into me, to lick all the way from my ass, to clit.

Steam floods my stomach, lighting me on fire. A raging flame consumes my very being, and I relish in how dirty and dangerous this encounter is -in public on his knees for me, Logan made it known that I'm his, and he let me know, that he couldn't care less who heard us, because I was his.

"You're disturbed," I breathe, and his chuckle resonates louder when he separates from my damp skin. "You love it," he states with a smirk and an arch of his brow. He then runs his tongue over his soaked lips, and I bite back a groan, sighing, "I do."

Lifting, moving my palms to his shoulders, I capture his top lip, sucking on it as a thank you. I grin, and as if he can hear my jest coming from a mile away, he scoffs and turns to hide his smirk.

"And you must lovveee me," I repeat my earlier comment with even more enthusiasm, and he shakes his head.

He rises and I do the same. Logan then goes in for a kiss to shut me up, but just as he does, I catch his mumble of "I do."

I gasp into his mouth, eyelids stretching.

My lids briskly flutter shut when he deepens the kiss, dipping my figure, rather romantically, and we both smile.

[lnfours]

* ✰. — birds of a feather | l.n

summary: i’ll love you til the day that i die.

warnings: the result of the new billie eilish album being on repeat and me having this song stuck in my head, so this was born. fluff, fluff and more fluff bc i said so. slowly getting my creative juices back, so bear with me.

masterlist | soundtrack

you hadn’t been looking for anything when you had met lando. a freshly graduated student who finally had time to find interest in their personal life, rather then spend their time consumed with textbooks in front of them, trying to navigate your way through the chaotic mess of life.

but the moment the curly haired brit bumped into you in the paddock, sending your notes and fresh cup of coffee all over you and the ground, you were doomed. falling head first into the comforting chaos that was lando norris.

and you thanked your stars every morning when you woke up that you had been running late that day, or else you would’ve never met the sleeping boy next to you. wouldn’t have ever gotten the chance to get to know the sought after driver with a big heart and who loves with his whole soul.

you smiled to yourself, sitting in the bed and taking in the way he slept peacefully, not aware how pretty he looked in the morning sun as it peaked in through your blinds. his cheek pressed against the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he slept.

you couldn’t help but reach out and brush the stray curl away from his face, smiling softly as he stirred in his sleep at your touch. your silent way to keep going, your nails scratching at his scalp gently. a soft hum came from him, followed by the gorgeous sight of his green eyes shining up at you. his eyes fully adjusting to the brightness as he squinted, his hand reaching out to yours.

“c’mere,”

his voice was hoarse and sleep coated, but it never failed to send shivers down your spine. you scooted closer, letting him pull you into his side. your face nuzzled in his bare shoulder, his head laying on top of yours.

“we need to be up soon,” you said, poking his ribs gently, “your family’s coming to see the new house and have dinner, remember?”

he didn’t, actually. and if it wasn’t for you, he’d be certain he’d miss all of his meetings, call times, and hell, even sometimes the start of his races. thankfully, you were never far from him on the pitlane. the perks of working with sky, who he should really thank. he’d make a mental note to do it next race. right now, he was going to enjoy the peaceful month he got to spend with you. uninterrupted peace, free time. where you got to whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted.

he groaned, nuzzling his face into your hair. you laughed softly, “lando,”

“i like when you say my name,” he mumbled, “say it again.”

you chuckled, and in your best flirty tone you could muster up in the moment, you did, “lando,”

he pressed a soft kiss to the skin of your neck, right where your neck and collarbone met. his favorite spot to kiss whenever he teased you because he knew you were ticklish.

and as if on queue, you giggled, shoving his head from your neck, “stop it,”

“just five more minutes,” he pleaded, “with my girl, in our bed, that’s all i ask.”

you sighed, “fine, but not one second longer.”

he smiled, knowing he could always get you to fold. you hated to admit it, but you’d always cave for him. do whatever he wanted. he had you wrapped around his finger and you had him wrapped around yours. smitten for each other, young in love, whatever you wanted to call it, you were it.

“how’d you sleep?” you asked, finger tips tracing the lines in your mind that you drew with your fingers every morning. connecting the moles on his skin, from his shoulders to his chest and down to his sides. your own little routine you had incorporated, a habit you picked up after the first night you spent together a year and a half ago.

“good until you woke me up.”

“you love when i wake you up.”

“you’re right,” he mumbled, “getting to see that pretty face every morning is the highlight of my day.”

you chuckled, leaning up on your elbow, reaching around and grabbing his cheek into your hand. he smiled softly as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his.

he pulled away, a smile on his lips as they brushed against yours, “and your morning kisses, i love waking up to your lips on mine, or on my-“

you shook your head, laughing and covering his face with your pillow before pulling yourself out from the covers, “alright, time to get up!”

“that wasn’t five minutes!” he gasped, tossing your pillow your way softly, teasingly. you laughed, walking into the connected bathroom, calling back to him.

“long enough! you killed the romantic mood,”

“i’m only speaking my truth, baby,” he said, footsteps joining you in the bathroom, watching him lean against the doorway out of the corner of your eye, “is a man not allowed to speak his truth?”

you popped the toothbrush in your mouth, sending him a glare. he laughed, pressing a kiss to your head before grabbing his own toothbrush from his side of the sink. he joined you in brushing your teeth, wrapping an arm around your waist. you smiled softly, trying to ignore how good he looked. sweatpants loosely hanging around his waist, bare chest on full display, curls wild and in serious need of taming.

you two looked good together, and even though he wasn’t necessarily considered ‘tall’ he still stood a few inches above you. his green eyes met yours in the mirror, and he knew you were subtly checking him out. he sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finished brushing your teeth.

he finished shortly after you, watching you as you rummaged around in your drawer. you pulled out the skincare he had seen you put on every morning and night, and even has put on for you after nights where you’ve had one too many vodka redbulls.

he leaned against the counter, watching you in the mirror as you rubbed the product into your skin, “can i have some?”

you giggled, moving to stand between his legs. you squeezed a little bit of the moisturizer onto your fingers, rubbing into his face. he grinned softly at your gentle touch, “that smells good.”

you nodded, “and it has sunscreen in it, it’s good for you.”

he motioned towards your drawer, “do you have any lip balm?”

you hummed, putting the tube back before grabbing the lip balm. you went to hand it to him but he raised an eyebrow at you. you sighed with a laugh, shaking your head.

“gimme,” you said, grabbing his chin and swiping the lip balm against his pursed lips. you couldn’t help but giggle again, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips when you were done, “there.”

he rubbed his lips together and hummed, “hmm, is that coconut?”

you nodded, “like it?”

he nodded, pulling you in closer by your waist, “love it.”

you grabbed his wrist, checking the time on his watch, “they’ll be here in an hour.”

“so what i’m hearing is-“

“no,” you shoved his shoulder with another laugh, “what im saying is that i need to run to the store and get flowers for the vase on the table.”

“who needs flowers,” he said, pressing a kiss to your chest, “when i could have you back in my bed, all to myself for a little while longer until i have to share you for the rest of the day.”

you ran a hand through his hair, his eyes looking up to meet yours, “as tempting as it sounds, i really do have to run to the store. plus, i have to get some stuff for dinner.”

he sighed dramatically, “okay,”

you walked into the closet, rummaging through his side and stealing one of his hoodies and fishing out a pair of sweatpants. a quick outfit to run a few last minute errands.

he had found his way to the kitchen, standing at the coffee pot. you pinched his side, kissing his shoulder. he turned his head and smiled, leaning down and kissing your head, “need anything while i’m out?”

“mm,” he hummed, “breakfast? i don’t feel like cooking.”

you laughed, “me either. i’ll pick up something.”

he nodded, smiling playfully, “i guess you can take my car.”

“oh i was going to,” you said, grabbing his key off the hook, “even without your permission.”

“rude!”

you laughed, blowing him a kiss, “i’ll be back. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

your trip to the store was quick, making it back within a half an hour, arms full of things as you carried everything inside, closing the door with your foot. you set everything on the counter, hanging the keys back on the hook.

“i’m back!”

“i’m in the bedroom!” his voice called back to you. you made your way down the hallway and into the bedroom, smiling as he held up two shirts in the mirror.

“which looks better?” he asked, holding both up against the pair of plaid pants he had picked out. you hummed, standing behind him and watching his reflection. his hair being perfectly styled and his cologne filling the room telling you he had been getting ready while you were gone.

you pointed to the white shirt, “that one.”

“you think?”

you nodded, watching him take it off the hanger and slipping it over his shoulders. you stepped in front of him, buttoning the buttons. purposefully leaving the top few open.

he rolled up the sleeves, sending you a look, “might as well have my whole shirt unbuttoned.”

“i wouldn’t complain.” you joked and he smiled, before quickly realizing your attire. you smile as he started pulling at the hem of his hoodie that sat on your frame.

“hey! this is mine.”

the baby blue hoodie looked better on you anyway, but he still liked to joke around with you, “i know.”

“thief.”

“come and get it then.” you shrugged, crossing your arms.

“oh, so now you’re in the mood?” he asked, “what was it? the buttons?”

you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “maybe.”

“you’re going to be the death of me.”

“you love me.” you smiled, his hands finding your warm, soft skin under his hoodie.

“damn right i do, baby. til the day i die.”

[tetzoro]

BLOOM — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. zoro roronoa !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after the events of wano take place, you and zoro find yourselves having a slow morning filled with thoughts of your future. (there’s no spoilers dw i just wanted to use the setting lol)

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : fluff ; zoro being vulnerable and in love — WC : 1.3k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : zoro in wano forever altered my brain chemistry so here is a silly lil blurb from my drafts ! enjoy ! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

in the early morning where the flower capital begins to bloom and the sounds of the bustling street fill with people eager for another day of celebration start to take root, zoro wakes up next to you. in the distance, the faint scent of cherry blossoms begins to fill his nose as the breeze glides through the windows, sending a shiver down his body.

“cm’here.” zoro slurs, his arm easily hooks around your waist, other hand grabbing a hold of your plush thigh as he lifts you over to him. your eyes flutter open for a moment and zoro swears he can see the rising sun in them. but it was a false start — your eyes shutting once again as you nestle yourself against his chest.

“too early.” you complain, the world only just waking up as light starts to lazily spill through the windows and into the room, pouring over you in an angelic glow.

“mhm.” he agrees, running his knuckles along your exposed back, eliciting chills in its wake. he couldn’t help but bask in the warmth of your nature, wanting more than anything to tuck you into his chest and keep you there for safekeeping. “good morning to you too.”

“good morning.” you let the words tumble from your lips after breathing out a soft chuckle. your chin moves, resting upon his chest as you finally look at him.

his breath hitches as he realizes he’ll never get over how pretty you are — sleepy eyes still shining bright even though they fight to stay open, dried up drool endearingly taking residence in the corners of your mouth, hair in slight disarray after a sleep filled with tossing and turning, no doubt already tangled from the activities from the night before. he could never get enough.

zoro leans in and presses his lips against yours, a sweet kiss that you easily melt into like burning wax. your hands crawl up to cradle his cheek ever so softly — packed with all the care in the world it almost makes his heart skip a steady beat.

a part of him wonders if this is what his life will look like after luffy becomes king of the pirates and he himself finally becomes the greatest swordsman in the world.

would he get to lazily wake up with you in his arms every morning — languidly kissing each other until he’s positively drunk off listening to your little sounds of pleasure as they slip out of your mouth and into his? or slowly waking up together by showering the other with affection safely behind closed doors, the privacy allowing all of his walls to fall down around you, where you tenderly move past the vanquished rubble.

these little things have steadily grown on him like the moss that the shitty cook claims grows from his head and he honestly couldn’t imagine not having in his future. there have been too many close calls during the time you’ve known each other and the thought of not being able to love you for the rest of his days sends a spike deep into his core, threatening to take his breath away.

“sleep okay?” you ask, pulling apart from him in favor of kissing his cheek, nuzzling into the side of his face. a small comfort that reels his wandering mind back to you, grounding him back into the present.

“yeah, always.” he gives you a little squeeze, a silent message that he only sleeps so well because you’re here beside him. “you?”

“always.” you parrot back. a smile breaks along your face, cracking through like the sun when it first rises for the day. a shimmering glint before it consumes everything it touches.

zoro’s dumbfounded for a moment, blinded by the force of nature that unfolds before his very eye.

“although,” he starts to tease, a dastardly little smirk dangling on his face. “you’re a damn blanket hog, you were moving around so much i thought you were going to fall off the bed.”

“what!” your eyes widen in shock. zoro humorously watched as the gears in your brain started to speed up at the accusation, harmless irritation puffing steam out of your ears. “no i’m not! you’re just making that up.”

“no.” zoro chuckles, “that’s why i had to pull you onto me. was tired of you being so damn far away.”

“aww, you missed me?” now it’s your turn to tease, poking his cheek with that sweet little grin on your face. so much for riling you up.

“just wanted to catch you before you rolled off the bed.” he grumbles.

“oh really?” you squint at him, not entirely convinced that his intentions were so heroic. “so if i just—“

you go to move off of him, but he’s quicker, flipping you so you’re sprawled under him over the wrinkled sheets. zoro’s palms land by either side of your head, effectively caging you in. even though it was still early, zoro never missed a step.

wordlessly, he shifts onto his elbows, lowering himself down on you until your back sinks into the mattress, tucking you in just like one of the many petals you press into your books. you’re his own version of that he thinks, the pretty flower that got trapped between the harsh lines that write up his pages, sealed with a heavy exterior that you had no problem prying open with loving hands.

“nuh uh, not a chance.” he leans down and kisses you, letting out a soft groan as your sweet hands slide over his bare shoulders and roam along his back.

“knew it.” you whisper against his lips with a giggle. “just admit it, won’t you?”

“just shut up and keep kissing me.” his biting words don’t match the endearing tone in his voice; a bark reduced to a whimper.

zoro grabs your chin, using it as leverage to keep your mouth on his, not letting you get another word out as you spiral into your desires, kissing him like it’s the only thing you were meant to do. now and forever.

after a few moments, he pulls back panting slightly and rests his forehead against yours in an attempt to regain his dizzying thoughts.

“do you ever wonder what’s next?” zoro asks, pulling his head up a little. the question slipping out of his mouth before he had a chance to reel it back in.

“like where we are headed next?” you tilt your head. “wherever the tide takes us, i suppose.”

“i meant you and me.” zoro can feel his face burn with vulnerability, embarrassment licking at his cheeks until they’re a pretty pink. he shifts a bit at the intensity so he can lay on his side, his arm coming up behind your head.

“oh!” your face melts into a smile as you turn toward him and suddenly he doesn’t feel so silly. “i do think about it, actually.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you nod, your finger trailing along his bicep, the corded muscles intertwining together such as your fates. “i don’t know what we’ll be doing but all i want is for us to do it together.”

your eyes met his gaze, luring him in as the depths of your devotion pools in your eyes. an expression he was no doubt returning.

together. what a nice word, one that holds so much value to him and eases the tension in his shoulders like the waves on the shore reclaim the sand. for those two years you were apart, during the dead of night when his mind would wander after a grueling day of training, his thoughts would land on you.

thoughts filled with nothing but adoration that soon turned into a steady love once you reunited, side by side once again.

a love that could only be expressed as how the ocean loves the shore. gentle waves lapping against the sand, forever fated to find your way back to each other one way or another whether it be a slow crawl or a violent reunion, destiny had made its decision.

“me too.” he squeezes you, pressing a chaste kiss along your hairline. “together.”

thank you so much for reading ᰔ

[sageispunk]

red lipstick (18+)

↳ "Don't let your husband stop you from finding the love of your life"

pairing: Maintenance Man! Terry Richmond x blackOC! Alisha Bryce

wordcount: 2.2k

warnings: infidelity, oral sex (m receiving), use of handcuffs, switch! Terry & OC, Daddy kink, lipstick kink, messy bjs, pouty desperate!Terry bc I wanted to

A/N: this is like basically a random part for this AU I've been fixated on for a minute, still not sure if I want to do chronological series or just a bunch of loosely connected oneshots but I'll figure that out l8rrrrr!!! lmk in the comments if you enjoyed this, also pls like + reblog, feel free to follow my notif blog @sageispunklibrary for updates!!!

“C’mon baby, you can do better than that.” 

Alisha kept her gaze on the man, down on her knees in the fancy, red, low-cut dinner dress he’d bought for tonight. The lights were low and her mouth was full, throat nearly stuffed with her lover’s manhood. He sat on her sofa, leaned back with his bare thighs spread apart on the orange velvet, one arm thrown across the back as if he owned the place. 

Terry was big–thick and long, unforgiving. She held her hands together down in front of her, wrists bound together by the fuzzy black cuffs he found while peeking through her nightstand drawer earlier in the day, as new as the day she bought them. 

She hummed as she took most of him down her throat, leaving only about an inch of his warm brown skin exposed to the chilled air. She could tell that wasn’t enough for Terry, not right now at least. He was desperate, aching for a release and she would be just that. 

She felt his hand on the back of her head loosely tangle itself in her long brown locs, fingertips lightly massaging into her scalp. With a sigh from her nose, she closed her eyes and relaxed herself, allowing him to stroke his hips up into her throat, bringing her precious cherry-tinted lips just a little closer to his base each time. Saliva dribbled out from the corners of her mouth, dripping down off her chin and onto his heavy balls. She could feel her thighs sticking together, the heat between them building with each passing second. 

“You can do it, mama…take Daddy’s dick down that throat…”

His sweet, daunting voice echoed in her mind, keeping her grounded in the moment. She loved it when he talked to her like this, so rough and dominating–manly. Not to mention using the handcuffs that had been sitting in her drawer for months, brand new and awaiting the perfect opportunity. Now, her dreams were being fulfilled. It was everything she was missing with Isaiah, and that fact only made her more eager to please him, pushing herself to her limits every time they fucked, and then some. 

“Look at me, Lisha.” 

Terry watched as she obeyed his command, breathless as he took in the scene before him. This perfect, nasty, brown-eyed beauty kneeling for him, worshiping his dick like it was all she’d ever needed. All that consumed her mind, day and night. He knew that it was, the same feelings growing within her and dictating her every move, he felt in himself. They were on the same level again, and he’d be damned if another motherfucker got in between them after this. 

He couldn’t help the moans that evaded him as she finally throated his entire length, not breaking eye contact as she nuzzled her nose into his trimmed pubes. For over twelve years, the man’s life had been structured around maintaining self-control and mental strength, but there was nothing or no one on this planet that made him feel as weak as Alisha did in this very moment. 

His bottom lip found itself clenched tightly between his pearly whites, a crease growing between his eyebrows while he took everything she gave him. She pulled up off his dick, slowly sliding back up with red lips, glossy with spit and precum.

“I missed you.” 

Alisha didn’t plan to say those words, but her nerves were soothed when he reciprocated the statement, his gruff voice hitting her ears and vibrating through her chest. She loved the strain in his voice, in his eyes, knowing that she had his tough exterior breaking down made her feel…powerful. On top of the world. 

Terry’s other hand came to her cheek, caressing her gently as he stared into her eyes, slightly pouting at the sight of his rock hard dick standing up right next to her face. 

He subconsciously made it jump, stealing her attention away. She watched it twitch in front of her, a hungry look growing in her dark eyes as her mouth watered. She needed to feel him stretch her again, her lips, her jaw, her throat. She just needed him inside again. 

Alisha leaned forward and her pink tongue darted out, licking a slow trail up the vein on the underside of his dick. She circled the tip of her tongue around the throbbing head, specifically avoiding his needy, leaking hole. Terry groaned from above, losing his restraint the more she avoided his most sensitive spot. His head was filled with nothing but echoes of pleas, anguished cries for her to relieve him. All he needed was her tongue. 

She smiled, watching his thighs flex and feeling the grip of his fingers tighten in her roots. She pressed her lips against the tip,  firm enough to leave a smudge of red lipstick against the brown flesh. A mark of her love. Craning her neck down, she aimed for a new spot: his balls, heavy and full of cum that he’d reserved for her and her only. Over three weeks apart and he found that nothing matched his freak quite like she did…not even his own hand would suffice.

Terry bucked his hips up when he felt her soft, sticky lips on his sack, leaving yet another beautiful stain. “Lishaaa, fuck!” 

He was supposed to be the one in charge at this moment, yet he felt like he had the least power, even with Alisha in handcuffs. He threw his head back, a loud groan escaping his lips as he found himself writhing, unable to take the teasing. This girl had his goddamn toes curling just from kissing on his balls. 

“Look at me, Terry.” 

Her sweet voice met his ears, gentle and delicate, with a hint of deception laced into her words. He returned his gaze to the woman, seeking some sort of solace in her deep brown orbs. As big and tough as he was, he was not prepared at all for how Alisha wanted to play with him tonight. For the last couple weeks, all he’d fantasized about was breaking her down all across her place…leaving his mark on her, in her, all around her. 

But here she was, beating him right to it. 

Alisha sat up on her knees a bit, not bothering to fix the cleavage spilling from her dress before leaning forward to plant her lips on the skin near his hip. They both stared at her nearly perfect lip print, eyes low and full of want. “Baby–”

“Take these cuffs off me, Terry. Let me take care of you like you take care of me, please.” 

Terry paused, searching her eyes for any hints of mischief but he came up short. Sitting forward on the sofa, he brought his hands down in between them, pulling hers up into his lap. He clasped both her wrists with his left hand, using his right to take his chain off, a shiny silver key dangling in front of her greedy eyes like the world’s last golden ticket. 

It was as if time slowed down, the air seemed thick and heavy, a cloud of desire extinguishing any sense of hesitation in the pair. They both watched as the key slid inside, twisting and releasing the lock with a soft click. The cuffs fell to the floor but Alisha’s hands remained, suspended in his hold. Terry’s eyes came back up to meet hers, intense and unrelenting as he pulled her closer. 

He swallowed down her gasp when their lips met, his eyes fluttering shut as he relished in both the softness and the slight taste of himself. Terry’s tongue wriggled into her mouth, passionately dancing with hers in a battle for dominance. They moaned into one another, lips melding together seamlessly, a reminder of how perfect they are together. 

Alisha pulled her hands from his grasp, slowly so as not to be noticed. Her slender fingers found his length, stiff and weeping for her. A thumb lightly tapped the stickiness on the head, and she grinned into the kiss at his sudden twitching. She rubbed light circles on it, attentive to the way his mouth began to fall open as she pulled back from the kiss, not bothering to slow her movements on his delicate tip. Her left hand fell back to his balls, holding them and only slightly squeezing the warm sack in her palm, just as she’d wanted to earlier.

“Does that feel good?”

His nod was barely noticeable, but she caught it. Just as well as she caught the quiver in his bottom lip when she squeezed just a bit tighter. 

She kneeled down between his thighs again, bringing her face back closer to what she’d needed most. Not wanting to waste anymore time keeping him on the edge, she dived in, removing her thumb and replacing it with her hot tongue. She reached her right hand up to one of his small brown nipples, rubbing his own stickiness from her thumb into the hardened bud. Terry’s body jerked up, attempting to crumble in on itself while her hungry tongue swirled around his tip. “Ohh shiiiiitttt, Lish, please, fuck!”

Her head dropped into his lap, her other hand coming up to rest on his thigh while his dick slid into her throat with much more ease than before. She bobbed up and down, savoring his taste on her tongue and his cries in her ears. She felt so in control, taking him down to the hilt each time, moaning and drooling around his thickness like a slut. 

“Baby, that shit feels–mmmm–so motherfuckin’ good, I swear to god…” Terry groaned out, his brain growing fuzzier while she went down on him like she’d been starving for his dick. She gagged and slurped and hummed around him, all the while looking up at him with those perfect, teary eyes– like a wet dream come to life. His big hands gripped the edges of the sofa while he tried to hold on to the little bit of self-control he had left.

Alisha came up once more, letting him fall out of her mouth before she refocused her attention on his balls. Both hands wrapped around his dick, steadily jerking him as she sucked and licked on his sack, not caring to wipe away the spit across her cheeks and chin. She was being messy and nasty and she didn’t give a fuck about embarrassing herself because she knew that Terry was loving this side of her as much as she did. 

He palmed his face, cursing under his breath as he felt himself at the edge once again. His legs trembled as he tried to hold on, to savor the feeling of her hands and her mouth on him again after so long. There was nothing he needed more but to be surrounded in her warmth, physically and emotionally. He longed to be this close to her, this vulnerable with her, always. 

She released his balls with a gentle pop!, continuing to jerk him off with both hands from the base to the tip. “Cum for me, daddy…” She stared i​nto his eyes, finding herself lost in them, in him. “I need to taste you, please.”

Terry relaxed as her soft whispers hit his ears, the combination of her dirty words and the yearning that was revealed in her eyes helping him over that peak. “Lisha, I’m–” 

She quickly put her mouth on the head as he tensed up underneath her, both his cries and her moans filling the room. The taste of his nut on her tongue had her nearly cumming herself, her thighs subconsciously grinding together as she listened to his whining above. 

“Oh my god, ohmyfucking–fuckkkk…” Terry’s usual rough, baritone voice was higher now, sweet and shaky as he panted out and emptied himself in her. His vision was teary but he tried to stay focused on Alisha between his thighs. She took everything that he gave her, slowing her hands down on his dick while swallowing down nearly every drop of his seed. The filthiest image of tonight seared itself into his mind when she smiled up at him, licking the spare cum off her fingers with more smeared on her plump pink lips. 

She giggled softly, watching the big man come back down to Earth, his dick softening back to its usual form. His gaze was soft now, the love he felt for her shining right through his long eyelashes. As the intensity of the moment calmed down, she became more aware of her sore knees on the carpet, but especially her bare, aching pussy underneath her dress. Terry noticed her shifting and immediately straightened up, leaning forward to pull her up into his lap. “C’mere, love..” She sat on his left thigh with her legs stretched out across his right, burying her face into his neck. “You did a good job, baby…made me feel so good, thank you.” 

He spoke his praises into her hair in between kisses, rubbing a large hand up and down her exposed back. She sunk into the feeling, head still hazy but paying more attention now to what her body craved from him. Terry gently laced his fingers in her locs, pulling back to find her eyes again. 

“You gon’ let me take care of you now?”

taglist: @megamindsecretlair @harmshake @uniqueoutlierblog @notapradagurl7

@planetblaque @urfavblackbimbo @brattyfics @hotmessexpressssss

@soft-persephone @blowmymbackout @sweettea-and-honeybutter

@wakandamama @avoidthings @mzindependent

(lmk if u wanna be added/removed from this, i just went through my other terry fic rbs)

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[venusbyline]

Birthday ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 19, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Spencer Reid x sex worker!reader x Derek Morgan x Aaron Hotchner

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: foursome FMMM

— summary: Morgan hires a prostitute to her finally take his best friend's virginity.

— word count: 1.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 19th day, female!reader, virgin!Reid, shy!Reid, foursome (female/male/male/male), oral (male receiving), loss of virginity, praise kink, cowgirl position, handjob (male giving), Moreid, age gap (older men/older woman/younger man), birthday present, prostitution, drunk sex, rough kissing, orgy, corruption kink, implied/referenced cheating, infidelity, light overstimulation, breast worship, butt worship, nipple play, minor Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner, bisexual(?)!Reid, bisexual!Morgan, married!Hotch, Lila Archer Mentioned, minor Spencer Reid x Lila Archer, ambiguous/open ending, curse words, sub!Reid, dom!Morgan, dom!Hotch, switch!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

"You're gonna love your birthday present, Pretty Boy."

That's what Morgan said to Spencer after his birthday party. He was finally becoming more of an adult, gaining more respect from the team. Everything was going perfectly. Now, Spencer Reid was no longer just a shy and genius little boy, he was also proving to be a man worthy of working in the BAU, not just because of his extremely intelligent brain.

Reid was not as shy as before, he was slowly loosening up. His germophobia was also getting better and better. Everything was going well. He was maturing.

However, he still had his virginity intact.

The entire BAU was surprised when Spencer accidentally confessed about his lack of sexual experience during his birthday party. It was a shock to everyone, even though it was so obvious. The team thought he would have at least one experience or another for the roster, but the fact that he entered college as a teenager had ruined everything. Even though he was handsome as hell now, Spencer was a complex person whose brain worked too fast for anyone to even try to fully understand, no girl never had much patience to flirt with him for more than a few days, and his excessive shyness did not do much for his situation. The few kisses he had already exchanged with some girls had never gone further. The only time he felt tempted to continue had been with Lila Archer, which did not happen.

Spencer did not plan on telling anyone about his virginity. It was a shameful matter that he would rather keep secret forever. If it were not for the alcohol consumed during the night, he might never have confessed. None of his friends would know about this part of his life. If it were not for the whiskey, he would probably remain a virgin forever.

"F-Fuck. I can't..." Reid whimpered like a pathetic little boy as he squirmed in his seat, clenching his hands into fists and arching his head back, eyes closed and lips pink and already swollen from biting them. "Her mouth is so good..."

Morgan laughed at the sight of his best friend becoming a noisy mess every time you on your knees in front of him masterfully sucked on the tip of his cock. The boy's moans echoed in the room and went straight to Morgan's cock.

"How do you feel?" Morgan asked Reid, stroking his friend's brown hair as he finally opened his eyes, biting his lip again and trying to give a concentrated answer, but it went from tearful moans, which caused a chuckle from both Morgan and Hotch, who was just watching the scene. "You should try to have fun with us."

"Men aren't my thing, much less the kid one there." Hotch grumbled and Spencer pouted his lips sadly, giving his boss his puppy eyes.

It was Morgan's turn to roll his eyes, pulling Spencer's hair back a little to lick his neck, his teeth nibbling on the soft, vulnerable skin, causing Spencer to start to lift his hips desperately with his cock inside your mouth, in a desperate attempt to reach orgasm faster. "See, sweetheart? You're doing amazing."

Morgan used his free hand to stroke your hair, your eyes shining at him in confirmation, before you turned to Spencer, letting go of his cock when you noticed he was going to cum any moment ago. The big sad eyes on Reid's face caused laughter between you and the other two agents.

"Relax, kid. If you cum inside her mouth now, you won't be able to fuck her tight pussy anytime soon." It was Hotch who muttered a little grumpily, trying to hide the slightly sadistic smirk when he saw the tears of despair running down the genius' face.

Morgan gestured for you to stand up, your body covered by only a white lace panties that seemed to be tucked into your ass, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Hotch and Morgan bit their lips, while Spencer whimpered, trying to squirm in the seat so he could touch you. He had never touched a woman's breasts or ass before.

Hotch scoffed when he saw the pleading in Spencer's face. "Looks like someone is very eager."

Morgan followed Hotch's gaze, diverting his attention from your ass for a while so he could watch the younger boy's despair, enjoying it. "I guess you should stop his suffering for a bit. His brain is gonna break if you don't let him fuck you soon."

Morgan's suggestion made you laugh. "Virgins..." You rolled your eyes playfully, but it caused a sad pout from Reid, too confused and desperate to understand that it was nothing more than a teasing. As soon as you took off the lace fabric and threw it to Hotch, you heard him growl. He did not like prostitutes and had been completely against hiring one for Spencer to lose his virginity. But Morgan had convinced him. At first, he had said he would just watch, but the moment you wrapped the condom around Spencer's cock and gently fitted it in, his mind went into a frenzy.

That was one of the hottest scenes Hotch had ever seen. The youngest of the team crying with so much pleasure after having his cock stuck in a wet pussy for the first time. Your ass shaking every time you bounced on him, your own hands cupping your breasts and staring into Spencer's submissive gaze, those beautiful eyes filled with tears. The way Morgan grabbed Spencer by the neck, distracting him from watching your pretty breasts for a while, while now he felt his thin lips being crushed by Morgan's mouth with an aggressive kiss, his hand going down the older agent's pants by instinct.

Hotch had not liked that plan at all. He thought it was absurd. He did not like prostitutes. He did not like it when two BAU members got involved, even casually. This should all be disgusting and repulsive.

However, when Morgan and Spencer were still kissing, Morgan's bit heavy hand crushing your breast while Spencer's slender fingers played with your other nipple, it all became too much. Every moan that left your lips with the overstimulation caused by your breasts being used or by your wet pussy riding non-stop on Spencer's virgin cock. The whimpers that came out of Spencer at the new and incredible sensation, in addition to Morgan's intense kisses. The growls that Morgan let out while Spencer hangjob him with an inexperienced and almost stupid way, which made everything even more perfect.

Hotch should hate this and go away, go back to his wife and pretend he did not see any of it. The problem was, he knew that would be impossible. He wanted to continue, he wanted to feel everything too. Feeling his sex life a little more interesting in all the chaos that was his career and his marriage.

"I'm serious. I really don't like guys." Hotch warned again with an uncomfortable face, almost as uncomfortable as the tightness in his pants. You, Morgan, and even Spencer shared a few soft chuckles when Hotch snorted and took off his tie, unbuttoning his white dress shirt and throwing it to the floor before grabbing you by the neck, kissing your skin while you continued to ride Spencer.

"So that won't be a problem, Sir. I'm not a guy, I'm just a whore. All of you three can use me however you want." You scoffed and Hotch huffed, nodding then and licking your earlobe, his hands moving your hips to encourage you to go faster on top of Reid.

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