#and he just gets so into it that he starts dancing

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐒𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐀 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥✯

IN WHICH... Chris experiences the best head of his life at the freak show.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!! switch!chris, dom!colby, cuck!colby, switch!reader. clowns, fire, alcohol, sexual escapades, oral (m receiving), slapping, choking.

Chris doesn't know how he got into this situation.

One minute he was at a club in LA with his friends, then he was in some bedroom getting head from Tara's friends who works at the place.

Let's start from the beginning.

Chris was a bit on edge tonight.

The triplets had turned 21 about a week ago, and Tara and a few of their other friends (Sam and Colby, Jake and Johnny, Larray and Quen) had planned to take them to a club. Because Tara was the one who came up with the idea, she decided the club of the night should be ''FreakShow''.

When the triplets heard this, they were all put off by it.

Who names a club FreakShow?

With some convincing, Tara got them to agree. They arrived at the club and instantly were confused with the people they were seeing.

It looked like a rock show with how much leather and gothic faces they were met with. "Tara, what the fuck is this place?" Nick asked as they walked right past the security guard and into the club. Tara answers with a giggle, excitement coursing through her veins.

"Relax! Just have fun tonight!" Colby says clapping his hands and rubbing them together. The group walks through a tunnel that's illuminated in black light, wild scribbles on the wall catching their attention. Chris makes out some of the words scribbled on the wall and he chuckles to himself.

They approach a door where a girl in a clown outfit and face paint greets them. "Tara! Long time no see! How are you?" The girls voice is a bit high-pitched, fitting her clown costume.

"Janey! I know I've been so busy but I brought some new friends since they just turned 21!" The girl, now known as Janey, eyes the triplets. It's as if her mood switches, her body movement becoming more animated. She gives a wide creepy smile showing off her sharp yellow teeth.

"Well, Tara you know the rules. Each new person has to tell the freakiest thing they have done, after all this is the FreakShow."

The triplets immediately look at Tara, their eyes wide. "Tara you did not tell us this!" Everyone laughs as the boys begin to freak out. "Oh calm down! there are no cameras or anything, and this place is free of judgment! Look I'll even say mine!" Tara turned back to Janey and smiled, "I made out with Y/n and Jake watched!" Jake nods along, proving the statement is true.

"Ok, now you guys go! Hurry up I don't want to miss Y/n's show."

The brothers look at each other, speaking with their eyes.

"Fuck it! I blew a guy in the locker room during a fire drill." Nick states.

Chris chokes on his spit hearing Nick's confession. He remembers that day and how Nick was talking about a sore throat. Now he knows why. "Matt your turn," Nick says waving his hand, not wanting the attention to stay on him.

"Umm... Can I like whisper it to you?" He asks Janey. She nods and takes a step closer, allowing Matt to whisper in her ear. She pulls away with an eyebrow raised. "I'm going to find you later, you seem fun to play with." Matt blushes and turns to Chris waiting for him to go.

"Umm, I had sex with a girl wearing a Ghostface mask?" Janey smiles at the group and unlocks the metal door, letting them through with a bow, "Have fun at the FreakShow."

Tara thanked her before pushing the group through the doors.

The sight they are met with is almost scandalous. Multiple people in revealing outfits. Most of them are clown-themed, and others are just straight-up lingerie. Like Janey, some of the faces are covered in paint, and their hair being done up in crazy ways.

There are girls and guys on stages, some dancing on poles and others just dancing provocatively. There are some people in cages and others on aerial hoops.

"This is like a fucking circus!"

Chris states holding onto Larray tightly when a girl walks past him with a snake. Tara guides them to a section that's blocked off and has a perfect view of the stage. Chris immediately notices a wide variety of liquor on the table with a placement card that reads Tara's name.

They sit down and begin to drink, the alcohol instantly loosening Chris up and making him relax.

The group laughs and talks, pointing out the different acts of the "freaks" around them.

"She just shoved a knife down her throat! I definitely think I cou-Holy shit!" Nick jumps back into his seat as a girl walks by, blowing fire out of her mouth. She cackles before bouncing away, literally.

A bit of time passes before a loud voice resembling the Jokers comes over the intercom.

"Tonight we have a special show for you freaks, created by our one and only Y/n, a true freak herself. She loves to scare, and she loves to make all genders crumble. Try not to drool and try not to cream." He lets out a manic laugh that makes some of the crowd uneasy, and the rest shout.

A loud bass fills the club, shaking the whole floor. Chris could feel his insides vibrating along with the bottles on the table. His eyes dart to the stage as the familiar lyrics all over Tiktok makes it's way through his ears.

"Go, go, go, go Head so good, she a honor roll She'll ride the dick like a carnival I done did the impossible!"

A bunch of contorted bodies crawl onto the stage, sending a shiver up Chris's spine. He watches their ragged but hypnotizing movements, the way some of them flip and bend intriguing him.

He sits up seeing an aerial hoop descending down onto the stage, a body attached to it.

"That's Y/n!" Tara shouts as she jumps up from the couch, clapping excitedly.

Y/n does a bunch of tricks on the hoop that has the crowd shouting in encouragement.

Pain all in my eyes, I can't see, huh I'm 'bout to jump out my body, I'm ready to leap, uh

She hangs upside down from the hoop by her legs, two of the dancers beginning to spin her.

Dollar signs all in my dreams, I don't never see Z's, whoa, whoa-whoa That swag cover my body like it's a disease, whoa, whoa-whoa

She sensually lowers her body from the hoops and crawls on the runway of the stage, almost like a lion getting ready to pounce on its prey.

Go, go, go, go Head so good, she a honor roll She'll ride the dick like a carnival I done did the impossible

When she gets to the end of the runway, she arches her back, stretching her arms forward like a cat.

She stands quickly and does backhand springs until she lands in the center of the stage, the rest of the dancers circling around her. One of them grabs her neck, yanking it back harshly and pouring a liquid into her mouth.

Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go

She blows bright pink flames from her mouth, the pyrotechnics on the stage following her lead. Everyone screams in shock as the song ends.

"She finally did it! Holy shit!"

The girl smiles and gives her final bow, blowing a kiss to the crowd before cartwheeling off the stage.

"That was different," Matt says after he stops clapping. The club resumes with random songs playing and people continuing their partying. " Y/n always puts on good shows! Never a disappointment."

Colby jumps feeling a pair of hands caress his chest before sliding down, "Aww you flatter me Colby." Tara squeals seeing her best friend. As the girl walks around the couch, Chris takes the time to examine her. Her outfit consists of black ripped fishnets, a bright pink thong that is covered by a black leather mini skirt, and a leather bikini top that presses her boobs together. Her hair was in some kind of style Chris couldn't exactly name, but it suited her. Her makeup wasn't the craziest he'd seen tonight, but it was still enough to pique his interest considering she had one-star eye-contact in, as well as concealed eyebrows. Her feet were covered in black chunky boots that made her seem taller than she actually was.

She plops down in Colby's lap, smiling at Tara. "So I take it we liked the show?"

Everyone begins to hype her up, expressing how good it was. "I'm glad you all loved it! I had to practice my fire blowing for weeks!"

Suddenly Y/n's eyes fall on the three boys, "I've never seen you three before." Her eyes stay on Chris, making him quickly look away. "They are my friends! They just turned 21 and I wanted them to have a fun night! This is Nick, Matt, and Chris!" Tara explains.

Y/n hums and leans back into Colby who is rubbing her thighs through her fishnets.

"Are you three having fun?"

Chris is too busy watching Colby’s hands, he doesn't answer her, leaving Nick and Matt to do so. "This place is very ...different?" Y/n laughs at Nick's descriptive words.

"It is different, that's the joy of it all. A place for any and everyone who might be into the weird things to come in and relax, have fun, unleash their inner freak."

"What are you into?" Chris suddenly asks.

"Ask Colby what I'm into." Chris’s eyes dart to Colby who is cheesing hard. "Oh yeah, this one is crazy. She asked me to hold a knife to her throat a couple of times."

"Girl what? You're insane." Nick says shaking his head. She does nothing but wink before leaning forward and grabbing a cup of alcohol. Chris can't help but watch the way some of the liquid spills out the side of the cup, and falls down her glimmering breasts.

"Oh my god wait! I haven't seen you in so long! I saw you got your tongue split! let me see!" Quen shouts over the music.

Y/n cheeses and opens her mouth, letting the split tongue fall out of her mouth.

Chris thought he would have been disgusted with the muscular organ, but he found himself adjusting how he was sitting, attempting to hide his rising boner.

Colby notices instantly and smirks to himself, plotting.

“I don’t know if I find it cool or weird,” Larray states, poking the tongue in the process. “It hurt like a bitch but it’s so fun now! I can tie a cherry stem now…I also got to eat a girl out and she said it felt amazing.”

“Wait I need to see the cherry thing!”

She takes a cherry from the jar on the table and puts it in her mouth, chewing on the bittersweet fruit before moving her tongue around.

Chris can’t help but imagine what the split tongue would feel like on his tip, wrapped around both sides as she-

“Done!” She sticks her tongue out, the tied stem on display.

Chris sucks in a sharp breath and abruptly stands up, “I-I have to go to the bathroom.” He announces, walking off without another word.

“Y/n you should show him where the bathroom is.” Colby suggests.

Y/n isn’t dumb, she had seen Chris looking at her and trying to hide his boner since she sat down on Colby’s lap.

She gives Colby a look before standing up and strutting off, her eyes set on Chris. She slides infront of him making him stumble back, “let me show you to the bathroom.” She doesn’t give him an option, grabbing his hand and leading him through the club.

They walk through a dimly lit hallway before she pushes him through a curtain.

“T-this isn’t the bathroom.” He mumbles looking around the room. He notices a bed and his heart begins to race.

“I know.” The smile she gives is anything but innocent. She walks closer to him, her taller stature towering over him. “I also know you were only going to the bathroom to jerk off.”

She trails an acrylic finger down his chest before stopping at his belt,

“Tell me Chris, do you like freaks? Cause I like freaks too.”

Her eyes dart up, making the boy gulp as a sheer sheet of sweat forms on his forehead. She leans down and whispers in his ear, “I’m not stupid, I saw the way you were looking at me, especially my tongue.” She allows the split muscle to lightly lick his ear.

His face burns a bright pink as he whimpers. “Come on, you know you want to.” She taunts as her hand lightly begins to palm him.

“W-what about Colby?”

“What about me?”

Y/n whips around and smiles seeing the tall boy. He walks over and stands behind her, wrapping his large hand around her throat. “Is this s-some kind of joke? Aren’t you guys dating?” Chris asks looking at the two, his heart beating out of his chest.

“Dating? Nooo, me and this one just like to have fun sometimes.” Y/n giggles and nods along to Colby’s words, her hand still palming Chris.

Colby lets go of Y/n and walks over to a chair in the corner, taking a seat. “Now, I’m giving you the opportunity to have fun tonight.”

“Come on Chris, don’t you want to have fun?” Y/n tags on.

Chris looks over to Colby who nods, giving him the ok to agree.

"Yeah...Ok"

Y/n grins sadistically before grabbing a fistful of his shirt, pushing the boy back on the bed. Chris is looking at her as if she’s crazy, he’s never been manhandled by a girl before and he didn’t expect it to turn him on this much.

She crawls over him before settling down on his lap, grinding down on his erection. His hands fly to her hips as he lets out a barely audible moan.

“Tell me what you want pretty boy,” she continues to grind her hips, her own wetness spreading through her folds.

“He wants your mouth,” Colby answers as he palms himself through his jeans. She grins down at Chris, tilting her head to the side.

“You want my mouth?” She leans down, watching his eyes dart to her lips. She sees the temptation in his eyes and she feeds into it. She grabs hold of his jaw and plants her lips against his.

He squeezes her sides tightly as she pushes her tongue in his mouth, a chill running up his spine as he feels the split muscle fighting against his own tongue.

“Quit teasing him,” Colby demands. Y/n pulls away from Chris with an eye roll and looks at Colby.

“I’m not teasing him, it’s called foreplay. Maybe you forgot since everyone else you fuck is trash.” Her bratty response causes Colby to rise to his feet. He yanks her off of Chris and forces her to her knees.

He grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back and looking down at her smirking face.

"She's a brat Chris, always wanting to press your buttons and get you worked up until you go over the deep end-"

Chris's eyes widen for what seems like the umpteenth time this night seeing Colby slap the girl on her knees. Her face whips to the side but her chesire smile never leaves.

He does it again, and again, and again, until Y/n is sniffling softly, her smile slowly falling. Colby grabs hold of her jaw and forces her head upward, "are you done being a brat?"

"Yes," she answers obediently, her once playful and seductive tone replaced with a submissive one.

Colby takes the initiative and shoves Y/n's face into Chris's hard-on, the bulge pressing against her aching cheek.

"Now be good and suck him off. We both know you've been wanting to try that new modification out."

Chris stays frozen, this whole situation being new to him. He doesn't know what to do besides sit and watch.

"Now!" The girl jumps and hastily begins to unbutton Chris's belt. He lifts himself up, aiding her in pulling both his pants and boxers down.

His cock springs up and Y/n can feel her mouth salivating, her lips parting slightly as she examines the phallus.

She grabs the base and inches forward, holding eye contact as she spits on his tip. He whimpers at the feeling on his tip, the whimper turning into a soft moan as she begins to pump.

His moans are like music to her ears, egging her on. They differ from Colby, more soft and a bit shy. Colby's is deep and more dominant. She figures it's because he's not in his element of control in the bedroom, not used to having a girl calling the shot and handling him how she sees fit.

She loves it.

He flinches feeling both sides of her tongue running up his shaft. She wraps her plump lips around his swollen tip, swirling her tongue around it. Suddenly her head is pushed down and held in place, shocking both her and Chris.

Chris groans and clenches his eyes shut feeling her throat clench around him.

"What did I say about teasing? Suck his dick the right way or I'm not fucking you tonight."

The threat of not being fucked into the mattress after not seeing Colby for a month gets to her.

She doesn't hold back, immediately bobbing her head and slobbering all over him.

Chris can feel his soul leaving his body, his toes curling as her split tongue adds even more pleasure. It felt better than he could imagine.

"Shit!" He doesn't know if he wants to push her away or let her continue the assault on his dick. As she begins to fondle his balls, he bucks his hips forward, his dick hitting the back of her throat. He panics thinking he hurt her but stops realising,

She didn't gag.

She didn't gag when Colby pushed her head down either.

She doesn't have a gag reflex.

"You can be rough with her Chris, don't be scared. She likes being used, isn't that right?"

Chris sucks in a sharp breath and bites his lip as the girl moans around him, confirming Colby's words. She pulls away from him, a wide and deranged smile on her face.

"Fuck my mouth Chris, I know you want to." She kitten licks his tip, pushing him to break.

And he does just that.

His hand finds its way to the back of her head, gripping the pink hair and pushing her head back down.

He begins to fuck her mouth, not hard enough to hurt her (his actions still unsure to him), but hard enough to make spit pool out of her mouth.

The drool mixed with precum falls out the side of her mouth, some getting on the bed, some falling on her chest, and the rest trickling down his shaft.

His grunts and moans along with the lewd slurping noises bounce off the walls of the room as his thrusts become more erratic, chasing his orgasm.

She can tell he's close, feeling his dick twitching in her mouth, the way his stomach caves in with the harsher he breathes.

She pushes his hands away and lifts her head, "cum in my mouth pretty boy, you know you want to."

She swirls her tongue around his tip, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

"Ah sh-" Chris cuts himself off with a loud groan and shoves her head all the way down. She feels the cum hit the back of her throat, sliding down with ease.

She pulls off of him with a pop and licks her lips, watching Chris breathe heavily.

She pulls him down and begins to make out with him, standing up slowly and crawling on top of him.

She's hungry for him now, wanting to experience his girth inside of her. Before she could even begin to remove her fishnets, Colby stops them, "Not so quick pretty girl." She stops and looks at Colby, still grinding down on Chris. She watches as he approaches them.

"You think you get to fuck two people tonight?" She giggles, moving off of Chris and closer to Colby, "Greedy girl. He can't even handle you and you want to play with him." He snatches her by her neck and leans closer before planting his lips against hers.

chris watches as the two make out next to him, his body buzzing with adrenaline. "You wanna give Chris a show? Hm? You want to show him how to handle you for next time?" Y/n nods eagerly, not even paying attention to what Colby is saying, just wanting to be fucked dumb.

"Sit on the chair Chris, you're going to learn how to fuck her just how she likes it."

can yall tell where i lowkey gave up? 😭 lmao sorry.

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n

#Spotify #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris girl #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #colby brock #colby x reader #colby brock smut

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙩2 ♡︎

characters: sub!dragons x nb!dom!reader

warnings: finger in vent again so vent fingering, established relationship, monster anatomy, clothes and undergarment stealing, clothes sniffing, the dragons are being a bit more feral, pillow humping, praise, pleading, thigh riding, guided vent fingering, squirting, nipple stimulation, bullet vibrator usage, mind break, fluff, needy dragon boys hehehehhehe

notes: due to popular demand, here is part 2 of dragons getting fucked dumb(●’◡’●)��� im sorry if it took a while. i was having some health issues(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) part 1 can be read here!! gradient divider from @/benkeibear

word count: 4.9k

ever since you helped out your large lizard lover with his heat, there’s only been one thing on his mind since then. your finger in his vent. the soft coos of your praises, the way you pushed his legs open to fuck him dumber, the way you nudged his hands off of his face so you could see his cute face twist and turn in pleasure as you fuck his hole.

“oh, for fuck’s sake! i need to get them out of my head” the dragon huffs aloud out of a sudden, hunching over his desk at his usual office as he hides the flush of his cheeks behind his hands. already a week has passed since the ending of his heat cycle and yet he was acting like he was still under the influence of his stupid dragon anatomy. he couldn’t even stop thinking about you and your fingers spreading him open while he cried dumbly on the bed, back arching and chasing after your fingers like a whore.

it was after his heat ended and finally able to at least articulate proper sentences that wasn’t about wanting you to wreck him, that the two of you have talked over and decided that perhaps it was time to make your relationship official. how long have the two of you been dancing around each other, making everyone roll their eyes at the way you two flirted with each other like some dumb teenagers? enough to the point people started making bets. enough that a half of the city had become 50 bucks richer and the other half poorer.

despite having already gotten into an established relationship with you, the poor dragon still felt shameful over some of his actions. such as stealing your clothes whenever you come over to his house to stay the night and lying to your face about not knowing where it was. you two were still basically in the baby stages of being an official couple which was why you needed some time to fully move your things into his house and to start living together. it takes time to settle y’know?

so it was definitely weird when some of your clothes started to disappear. the shirt that you usually wear when at the comfort of your or his home. the large, oversized sweater of yours that you have given the nickname of “the ugly one”. and strangely, you even had a hard time finding a certain undergarment amongst the mess of your home and the boxes of things that you packed up, preparing to move. strange. and even more strange, your overgrown lizard lover says he hasn’t seen them in his own home either. you genuinely started to question your own memory.

in the meantime you were busy creating a storm in your home trying to triple check this week about your missing clothes, your boyfriend was having a hard time in his office. no matter how hard he tried to focus on the paperwork stacked in front of his damn face, he just couldn’t.

instead, his mind just kept drifting back to the memory of you helping him during his heat cycle. the praises that constantly fell on his ears as his toes curled, clawed hands scrambling to grasp for something to clutch onto because he was sure that he ascended when your finger fucked the small opening of his vent. and that lewd squelching noises of his slick dripping down from his vent. an oddly sickeningly sweet smelling scent coming from him as if trying to woo you, trails of his juice dripping from his vent down to his fluttering hole to the bed.

he was fucked dumb during those days and by the stars, he wanted it again. he wanted your hand fisting at his cocks, eagerly tugging on them as your finger abuses the squishy spot inside him. he wanted to sob and wail deliriously, bucking his hips, torn between wanting to chase after the pleasure or tearing himself away to save what leftover pride he had, as he begs for mercy. he wanted it. at this rate, if he kept thinking back on that moment, he might as well try to force his body into another heat cycle so soon.

shaking the imagery out of his head, the dragon clears his throat. looking around his office to see if anyone is around — to his luck, no one was — before breathing out a heavy huff. he might as well try to at least do his work during work time.

“maybe that chipmunk’s affinity to skip work is rubbing off on me…”

perhaps even more had rubbed off on him. none which was a good thing.

“i’m sorry… i’m sorry i’m sorry ‘m sorry, [name]…” the dragon whines pathetically, wearing the oversized sweater he stole from you and nothing else. he just couldn’t get that memory out of his head. every time he tried, something small and insignificant would just remind him of it again. unable to keep up with trying to seem all professional, he rushed home straight after work — perhaps even earlier than the hours he gets out of his office — locking himself in his bedroom with a pillow between his thighs, wearing your sweater with your stolen undergarments to his face.

despite having already been fucked shamelessly just ten or so days ago, it still felt wrong to think of you in such a lewd way. in such a defiling way. in a way that it served as a huge disservice to who you really are.

“mmnngh—! [naamee]… m-miss you… missing you so bad…” the dragon whines, completely pent up as his slick continues to drip onto the pillow between his thighs, the outer scales of his vent already puffy and open slightly, weeping his mouthwatering juice. the poor thing was pathetic, trying to recreate the way you wrecked him so good. fingers messily rubbing and flicking against his vent opening as a means to mimic the way you ate him out the other day. spreading his slick around, making a stretching motion with his two fingers on the sides of his vent, flicking the small nub on top. it didn’t help. if anything, it only made it worse.

the dragon was trying to help himself out, to relieve himself off of his pain of unknowingly edging himself for the past few days. without you by his side to help him out or to hear his pleas. without you by his side to fuck him so good again. palming himself with a pathetic whimper, the dragon thinks about slipping a finger inside his vent the same way you did. but could he do it? probably not. he was just too damn of a coward, and there was the looming possibility of losing control of himself and letting his claws grow.

unable to do it in the end, he settles on merely stroking his cock. hand wrapped tightly around his weeping dick, your stolen undergarments wrapped around one of his cocks as he mewls, bucking his hips into the tight space of his closed fist. it was nowhere near to how it felt when you did it. perhaps at the time, it was his heat pheromones working but it felt good. your hand wrapped around his cock as your other hand fingers his vent opening. your hand felt so much better.

biting down on his lips, he cums into his hand, soiling your stolen undergarments as well in the process just the moment he thought back on the feeling. pouting, the dragon’s tail flicks in annoyance behind him, looking over at the clock hanging on the wall.

12:36. were you awake right now? you did indeed had tendency to stay awake a bit too late on some nights…

knock knock knock!

the soft yet annoyingly persistent knocks on your door slowly rouses you from your sleep, making you roll around in the comfort of your bed in a silent declaration of war against the knocking. acting stubborn, clinging onto the cozy warmth of your bed, you groan as a string of curses falls from your lips as you involuntarily drag yourself out of bed. whoever that was outside your door in this ungodly hour shall face your wrath like sun wukong did with buddha.

pitter pattering to the door — where the knocking has become more persistent — you swing the door open, ready to curse the person and their 109 bloodlines before shutting up. standing in front of you with his tail and horns out in the open, slitted eyes glowing slightly, was your dragon lover. strange. he never visits this late.

“dear? wha— what happened? is everything alright? it’s—“ you take a moment to steal a glance towards the clock hanging on the living room wall before turning to face him again, “—nearly 2am” you finish, concern growing more and more when his tail comes to curl around his own ankle. a clear sign that he was feeling anxious or uncomfortable.

“can i… come in? i wanted to see you” the dragon asks in a meek voice, a strange habit that you found concerning and heartbreaking to see since your lover was usually one who is calm and collected at all times. nodding, you usher him inside before locking the door behind you.

quietly, you follow him as your lover makes a straight beeline into your bedroom, making himself comfortable on the edge of your bed as a pink flush starts to grow on his cute cheeks. you were about to ask him if he wanted something to eat or drink but perhaps not as the needy dragon was now staring at you as his tail swishes behind him, impatient. tails expressed emotions after all.

yawning, you move to sit beside him on the bed, to which you accept his hug when you finally settle down. his arms cones to wrap around your middle, tail now calming down from the earlier fussy movement as it curls around your calf possessively. humming, you run a hand through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

the dragon loved it whenever you read him like he was an open book. to others, he was a stone wall, one that was made out of ancient scribbles and unintelligible runes. a warrior forged by blood and scent of death, one who was born and made by the cries of war and blind devotion from others. but to you, he was just a fellow being. one who was lonely from the many centuries he had spent, all by himself. struggling with the many different cultures of life, trying his best to learn and understand the human customs so he could properly court you in human traditions.

you two stay like that for some time. nestled against one another, just basking in the comfort of the peaceful life that you two found between yourselves.

“[name]…” the dragon whimpers from the crook of your neck, soft rumbling purrs mixing with his whining of your name. it was enough to snap you out of your sleepy state, making you hum as you acknowledge his call. he got your attention now. but the main point of hesitancy was — could he do it? could he be so shameful as to not only disturb your night of peace but to also be selfish to want you to pleasure him the same way you did a few days ago?

hearing the familiar noise of his tail hitting the bed constantly in a sense of irritation, you coo his name softly. one hand messing with the long strands of his hair while the other runs through his scalp.

“what’s on your mind now, my pretty?” you ask, taking a look at his face when it comes out of its hiding place in the crook of your neck. he seemed to be conflicted. brows furrowed, slitted eyes glowing slightly in the dark room while his lips tug in a small pout. laughing at the oddly adorable expression, you kiss his brows and pouty lips, making his purrs become louder. such a needy dragon.

“i’ve… been thinking,” the dragon starts after a while, taking his time to try and articulate his request and to convey his feelings that has been bothering him lately. a lot more than he initially thought they would.

“about how you helped me while i was in heat” he takes a moment, watching your expression closely to see if you caught the gist of what he was trying to say. you did, of course you did, you were a smart human after all. his smart human.

“and i was wondering if you could do it again…?” he finally manages to bring himself to ask, peering up at you through his lashes bashfully. how could you ever say no to such a face? such an ethereal and cute begging face alongside the promise of seeing his expression twist into one of someone who’s just fucked stupid. the cute face of your dragon lover drooling and sobbing fat tears while his heart shaped pupils stare at you in a silent plea for more. that face haunted your mind for too damn long, causing unnecessary moments of dozing off while remembering about the moment you slipped your finger inside, making your already horrible work ethnic drop to below ground level.

“sure. i wouldn’t mind it, pretty” you hum, any ounce of sleep leaving your body as you move to a more comfortable position on the bed. pushing yourself to lean against the headboard of the bed, you watch as your draconic lover takes his place on your lap. clawed hands coming to fist at the material of your pajama shirt, whining your name as he pushes himself flush against your chest. you could feel the mounds of his chest pressing against your own, his tail swishing behind him as he arches his back. your lips is pulled against his own, a small peck easily turning into a heated, messy make out. his forked tongue shyly licking at your lips, purring contently as his long tongue slithers inside you, exploring every nook and cranny needily.

you could feel his hips humping your thigh, the wetness of his vent weeping his precum already starting to stain his pajama pants and seeping into your own. you could tell he was too aroused, dumbly chasing after any ounce of pleasure there could be. you could feel the way your mixed saliva dripped down from your sloppy open mouthed kisses, his hands guiding yours to rest on his hips. a position you used to your advantage as your hands traveled downwards to knead his ass, squeezing the soft fat as he whimpers into the kiss.

the poor thing was so pent up, humping your thighs didn’t felt enough. it wasn’t enough to get him to that familiar feeling of high, that exhilarating feeling of feeling your fingers stretch his vent open while he could only keen like a whore.

“want it… want it so bad…” he mumbles into the kiss, guiding your hands to the hem of his pajama pants, tugging on them fervently to get the clothes off. you simply chuckle, finding his desperation adorable in more ways than one before finally relenting and slipping off his pants before he let out an annoyed hiss, pulling away from the sloppy make out session to tear off his underwear with his claws.

“darling! why would you rip it off?” you ask, amused by his eagerness but also slightly concerned for the way he just easily ripped off his clothes like that. you have never seen him get even the tiniest bit ticked off after all, so this was a new side of him that you were seeing.

“wanted more” he only huffs, demanding more kisses as he returns to shove his forked tongue down your throat. the length of his tongue got you groaning and panting, finding it harder to breathe as he becomes more needy with every kiss, with every sloppy slurp of your tongue against his own.

“mmnhp—! [nameee]♡︎” he let out a yelp, pulling away from the kiss to whine out your name as he felt your fingers knead his vent open. the poor dragon whined, huffing and puffing about how you were being so mean to him as he humps your thigh, the tips of his cocks slowly emerging from the scaled vent, both of his cocks weeping pre all over your clothes as his vent drips with his own arousal.

shifting him around, you let him lean his back onto your chest, hands hooking under his legs to spread them open. your dragon let out a little hiss, talking about how you weren’t paying attention to him. you simply shush his hissy fit with a chuckle, placing a kiss on his forehead. taking his hand, you tell him to withdraw his claws. an action he does with confusion before he let out a whimper when you guide his hand to his vent.

“b-but… i-i don’t think i can do it. i’m nervous!” he says in a panicked tone, turning his head to stare at you with cute pouty lips and wide eyes.

“yes, you can. i’ll guide you through it all, okay? it’ll feel good, promise darling” you say, peppering his face in kisses to soothe his worries. the dragon preens at that, his purrs getting louder as his tail whacks the mattress of your bed impatiently. once you get the hint that he was ready and he was okay with continuing, you guide his fingers to tease the edges of his vent. fingers rubbing the soft scales, making a spreading motion to ease the muscles there.

just some foreplay and he was already panting, legs twitching to close them. he was so cute.

“that’s it pretty, now keep your legs open for me” you continue to praise him through it all, your other hand leaving his leg to slip underneath his shirt. squeezing his chest, rubbing your thumb over his areola, you pinch at his nipple when it hardens, causing him to jolt in your embrace. whispering more praises of how he was doing so well, how he was your pretty boy, your beloved dragon, your hand guides his own to slip a finger inside his now loose vent.

“u-uunngh!! mmghh… mnngh… t-tight♡︎ too tight! w-won’t fit…♡︎!” he blabbers, throwing his head back on your shoulder as you slowly ease his finger deeper inside his vent. first, second knuckle until his middle finger was slipped deep inside the tight hole of his opening, legs shaking on the bed already like a fawn’s. there were already tears starting to form in his eyes, jaw slack open as heavy breaths fall. not a single thought behind his teary eyes. nothing but the pleasure your guidance and his fingers were bringing him.

“that’s it… that’s my pretty dragon, keep going” you coo out, pleased by how easily he broke under a simple pleasure of fingering his own vent. when he pathetically humps the air — finger still inside — you pull on his nipple to remind him how to do it. squealing at the amount of pleasure coming from both his nipples and vent, the dragon shakes his head, fat globs of tears already falling.

“c-can’t! can’t do it. [n-name] i need you♡︎♡︎ need your fingers so bad♡︎!“ he stutters, legs already shaking, about to close shut. too caught up in his own pleasure that he doesn’t even know what to do to properly pleasure himself even when you were here to guide him through it. clicking your tongue, you guide his hand to pull his finger out, something he couldn’t even perform without your help. he really was a goner with you.

“then, be a sweetheart and play with your tits for me, pretty. wanna see your cute breasts jiggle while i fuck you” you tell him, watching with endearment as he nods dumbly. hands coming up to push his shirt up, fingers twisting and pinching at his own hardened nipples. stuttered breaths fall from his lips when he could feel your thumb swipe at the slit of one of his cocks, jolting in place when you give his weeping cock a few pumps. the few visible veins in them were bulging, ready to pop and for him to squirt yet again if you just stop teasing him around!

but doing the same thing over and over again sounded boring to you. your sweet dragon deserved some treats for being such a good boy after all. he deserved some pampering.

“ah! gimme a second, darling” you snap your fingers, an idea forming in your head. he lets out a soft confused hum at that, hands still holding onto the soft mounds of his chest as he watches you move away to reach over to your bedside nightstand. opening the top drawer, he watches in curiosity as you bring out an odd small device that was connected to a small remote control by quite the lengthy wire. the color all cute pink, the toy small and nearly the size of a small hairclip but pretty girthy in width. were you… thinking on putting that inside him?

“it’s called a bullet vibrator. apparently, it’s supposed to add vibrations to any place of your choosing. and since i found out of your soft spot, i thought maybe we could try it out?” you explain to him, slowly unwrapping the long wire of the toy. it was quite lengthy. perfect to use it for his soft spot.

“only if you’re comfortable with it, dear. i wouldn’t want you to try anything you think you’re not ready for or feel comfortable with” you quickly say, ready to throw the toy away for another time when you feel the grip of his tail around your ankle. the soft smooth scales creating a soft, bristling sensation on your bare skin. if he could remember carefully, the most he took in his vent were two fingers. but it proved that his vent could be quite stretchy and take something more if given enough foreplay and gentle ministrations.

“i… i don’t think i would mind it. it sounds kind of fun, actually” he says after a moment of thinking on the matter, accepting the fact that yes, he can take it. he wanted to try these new feelings and challenges with you. everything would be right when with you.

“i would love to try this new toy” he finally comes to a conclusion, turning his head so he could place kisses on your neck and cheeks, purring in happiness when he could hear you chuckling. you should laugh more. the dragon loved the sound of your laughter — like soft bells chiming in the morning.

patting his thigh to tell him to open up his legs further, it was now your turn to plant kisses on his neck. you couldn’t exactly bite his shoulders as he still had his pajama shirt on, but you can take care of it tomorrow morning. so, you settle on peppering kisses on his neck, the faint scales that were around his artery, giving it a light suckle to which you got a breathy moan for. all the while you allow his vent to get used to the feeling of the toy, the material of it and its size, simply rubbing it over the soft outer scales.

“gonna push it in, okay pretty?” you whisper in his ear, to which he whimpered and nodded, one of his hands leaving his chest to intertwine his hand with yours. so cute. you can only hope he won’t crush your hand accidentally.

ever so softly, whispering praises to how good he was taking the toy into the shell of his ear, you take in the delicious noises he makes with a great amount of pride. the great and only dragon who could wipe out an entire nation off of the face of the earth, choosing you as his mate and bonding with you. having his faith in you that you would take good care of him and his pleasures. it was a heavy emotion and one that comes with responsibility to a certain degree and you would always be sure to handle the heart of his that he willingly gave you, with tenderness of a first snow.

“aaah mmggh—! uungh♡︎ it’s in! i-it’s aaaanhg♡︎♡︎ hummg♥︎ inside... it’s insiiiecckk—♡︎♥︎!!” your dragon squeals, hips thrusting back and forth into the air as he feels the soft round edge of the toy pressed against the soft spongy spot inside his vent. it felt foreign to have something other than your hand touch him there, perhaps even disrespectful since it was supposed to be the only soft spot that only you must have the privilege to know and touch! but for the sake of this new level of pleasure that you promised, he swallowed his hissy fits, instead replacing them with a whiny soft moan.

“i know, pretty. i know. deep breaths for me, pretty” you murmur, giving soft squeezes to his hand that was tightly holding your own. his tail starting to wrap around your ankle and up your calf further with the fluffy haired end wagging in the air playfully around your knees. you let him get used to the feeling of the toy first. gently rubbing it back and forth on his spongy spot, hearing the way his breathing picks up pace as he throws his head onto your shoulder.

“gonna turn it on now, pretty” you warn him, keeping a close eye on the way his expression shifts. if he shows the slightest bit of pain, uncomfortable feelings or signs of discomfort, you were going to ditch the idea. a moment of pleasure is not worth loosing your comfort over, after all. thankfully, he was reacting well to the new intrusion. only positive notes of his pleasured noises and star crossed eyes. you say it to him again, this time just a bit louder with a squeeze to his hand in case he was starting to lose himself. that seemed to snap him out of his trance. just enough to nod his head to you.

“o-okay… okayhhh i understaaaNGGHH!! [n-name]♥︎♥︎[namenamenamenam]—♥︎♥︎ h-haaangh mmhg s-shoo much♡︎ f-feelsh too much♡︎♥︎!!” just a single switch to the lowest level of the vibrator and he was already shrieking, sobbing and thrashing about on the bed. legs shutting around your hand instinctively, salty globs of tears falling as he goes slack jawed. his entire body shakes as he squirts into his stomach, but this time, he squirted from both of his cocks at the same time. the pretty pink tips weakly letting out a few more drops before he was fully hard on both cocks again.

all the while, you watched with an ever growing jubilation as your lover is reduced to this mess on your lap. legs shaking like a newborn fawn’s, cheeks and pointy ears a lovely shade of red as his jaw hangs slack open. every now and then, he would go quiet, arch his back off of you before a loud shriek would follow as the vibrator hits just right. you could see hearts in his eyes, completely docile as his pupils grow wide, so much so you could barely see the glow of his eye color.

so pathetically cute as he mewls your name in a slurred gibberish, repeating it over and over like a broken record. a broken recording that only had one word and is stuck in an eternal loop to say that recording. the most prettiest one. one that you wanted to be selfish and hear all day, everyday.

“u-uuuugckk! aaaanhg gyanh!! mrrrph— luv you♡︎ luvyouluvyouluvyous’much♥︎! luv yoouugh [n-naamee], luv you sho muchhh♡︎♡︎ f-fuUUNGK—♥︎♥︎” he trashes about on the bed, constant declaration of love falling from his lips, kicking his legs at the blanket as he sobs deliriously until he squirts yet again. his own cum splattering over to his chest, soiling his shirt and wetting his still hard pink nipples. you give one of them a pinch, delighted as he mewls in a hoarse voice. pinching and tugging on the cute nub, rubbing the still vibrating toy around his spongy spot, you watch in sheer adoration and obsession as he shoots blanks.

turning off the toy, you coax his legs open so you could move your hand and slip the toy out of his vent. when the girth of the toy slowly slips out of his abused now puffy vent, your dragon lets out a sob as his hips jolt violently. you could see his juices dripping out of his fluttering vent, wanting to finger it back inside him but knowing that it would push him way too far over his limits.

“shh shh, there there, pretty. i got you. you did so amazing” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle to pull him flush against yourself. wiping away his tears and drool, you places butterfly kisses over his face as you ground him back to his mind. he was far too gone and he hated having baths when he was way too lost in his subspace. if he isn’t responsive enough when bathing together, he will throw yet another hissy fit.

“mmmgh… tired…” you could hear him croak out after a long time of rocking him in your arms. he was slowly coming back which meant it was time for a bath. but until he fully regains his mind, it was better to cuddle him close as his tail has a mind of its own and has yet to let go of your ankle. at all.

smooch! maybe another kiss to his pink cheeks would help him ground himself faster.

#nobu.writes #sub genshin impact #sub!genshin impact #sub!genshin #sub genshin #sub zhongli #sub!zhongli #sub neuvillette #sub!neuvillette #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #dan heng x reader #dan feng x reader #dan heng smut #sub wuthering waves #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #sub honkai star rail #sub hsr #sub dan heng #sub!dan heng #dom reader #gender neutral reader #sub character

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ Faking an orgasm

꒰ ͜͡➸ How they react (and punish) you for faking an orgasm

❖ Characters: Geto, Gojo, Toji

❖ Reader: genderneutral | AFAB

❖ WARNINGS: sub!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, mentions of fingering and masturbation/toys, degradation (reader being called "bitch", "pet"), reader getting called "Angel", "bunny", "baby"

❖ A/n: Don't wanna miss a post? Sign up for my taglist in my Navi! || Repost bc community label after 5 seconds

☰ Geto:

ꕤ You were just exhausted from the day and somehow your head was everywhere but in the moment despite wanting nothing more than for your boyfriend to rail you like he was at the moment

ꕤ Geto had you on all fours before taking a fist full of hair to pull you up against his chest and you could feel his hips stutter

ꕤ Not wanting him to hold back you just faked it - giving it your best act

ꕤ He scoffed and pushed you into the mattress, your hips still high as your head got buried in the surface beneath you but he pulled out right before he came, letting his seed shoot over the globes of your ass and lower back

ꕤ You pouted at that “you promised to cum inside tonight,” you whined and heard him chuckle while shaking his head

ꕤ “Only good girls get filled with my cum - and you certainly aren't one,” he hissed before releasing your hair from his tight grip and you knew that he didn't believe that fake orgasm

ꕤ Before you were able to explain yourself to him, he patted his thigh, his back resting against the headboard “If you still want to cum you gotta work for it.”

ꕤ You were pouting but yes, yes you wanted to release so badly, unsure why you even faked it but this was your punishment now

ꕤ You straddled one of his thighs, his hands having a death grip on your hips to rut you against his leg at his desired speed - slow and with barely any pressure, making sure to let you suffer

ꕤ “Go ahead, dove, thank me for helping you,” He hummed, a playful smirk on his lips

ꕤ Without thinking much, you started thanking him for being so generous, for helping you to find pleasure. It made you feel so ashamed of faking it but that's exactly what he wanted

ꕤ “Keep up this slow pace, be a good girl and i might even slip a finger into your weeping cunt,” He breathed against your ear, knowing how much you love to ride his fingers

☰ Gojo:

ꕤ Gojo knew something felt off when your moans weren't the same, sounding rather fake so it came as no surprise when you faked it

ꕤ You don't even know why you did it, things just didn't feel as intense or like you're gonna release any time soon and hoped he wouldn't notice - bot oh he did notice

ꕤ He just continued as if he didn't know and finished a short while later but rolled off right away, a playful smile on his lips and that's when you knew that you're fucked

ꕤ “Have fun finishing yourself off then,” He hummed unbothered, that teasing smirk only getting bigger when he saw your mortified face

ꕤ “Didn't think i would notice, hm bunny?” He asked amused before turning to face you, his head propped up on one arm

ꕤ You felt like a deer in headlights under his mocking gaze along with his teasing and somehow you really hoped he would help you release

ꕤ But Gojo wouldn't be Gojo if he wouldn't be a menace, slender fingers dancing over your skin, always close but never touching the areas you needed him so desperately

ꕤ “Is my cock not good enough anymore? Do you need your own little fingers now? Maybe even your adorable toy? yeah, i know of your little secrets,” He teases relentlessly, making you flustered but oh so turned on

ꕤ “Go ahead and touch yourself for me… let me see,” he giggled, wanting to guide your movements with his voice now

ꕤ He wouldn't touch you in order to help you, that was your little punishment

☰ Toji:

ꕤ RIP to your little kitty

ꕤ Why you thought faking it is a good idea? Maybe because you know exactly how mad he gets after

ꕤ It hurts his ego more than anything that he can't satisfy you to the point where you see it necessary to fake it but you love how he reacts so you fake it

ꕤ Tojis hips slow down in pace when your walls don't grip him like a vice as they usually do and with one swift movement he manhandles you into a mating press

ꕤ “Think I'm too dumb to notice, angel? Let me teach you a lesson” he growls while he pushes your legs tightly against your chest, his cock now deeper than before which made you whimper

ꕤ “That's what I thought. Crying for me like a bitch in heat,” he continues to degrade you but this is a punishment, you're not getting it the way you want it

ꕤ His pace is now oh so slow, far too slow for your liking but you feel the tip of his length drag against your walls and brushing against all the right spots and it made you lose your mind

ꕤ You were now stuck, folded in half between your lover and the mattress while he tortured you with slow thrusts, a mischievous grin painted on his face that screamed victory as degrading words fell from his lips

ꕤ You were a mess by the time he was done with you, far too overstimulated and every drag of his cock along your walls borderline painful

ꕤ "Who knew my baby can only cum when degraded into nothing but a hole for me to fuck," he chuckled before pulling out so you won't even get the satisfaction of being filled

ꕤ Toji came over your face just to degrade you some more “go clean yourself up. You're such a mess,” he ordered but waited for your return

ꕤ When you were back in his arms he hummed softly “did you learn your lesson now, angel?”

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

#Rhy sins ♡ #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo #jjk toji #geto suguru #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro

[hazelfoureyes]

Ho, ho, ho~! I hope your vibrators are fully charged, cause this one's gonna have yall going full ahegao~! If not, then you'd best get those babies plugged in before continuing. Consider this your only warning... ;D

"Oh? Have I managed to shut up the big, scary Radio Demon?" You asked, the reaction your movements pulled from Alastor going straight to your head and to your core. A smirk danced across your face as you traced the tips of your fingers from the crevice between his clavicles down his sternum to the indentation of his navel and even further south, following the tufts of hair that was the beginning of his happy trail*.

Eyes shooting open at your little taunt, Alastor raised his head to look at you sitting pretty on his cock, shadows swirling around you and the sclera of his eyes flashing black for just a moment. "Hah! Only in your dreams, my sweet..." he breathed out just before you raised your hips and slammed them back down in the next moment, voice thick with that staticky radio filter that made him stand out from the rest (among other things). He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding in the same manner as your hips on his pelvis. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to compose himself before opening them once more, his sclera having shifted back to their usual red.

"Besides, my voice is one of the things you love best about me. You would- nnghh fuck! ... You would HATE-" Alastor started, feeling a little mischievous as he planted his hooves (feet?) into the bed and delivered a solitary, brutal thrust - one hard enough to knock you forward and force your hands to either side of his head. "-If I stopped talking," he called your bluff, a soft chuckle reverberating through his chest as his other hand found your hip.

"God damn you..." you mumbled, fighting back a smile as you stared down at him. He was right. It was just one thing on a very long list, but his voice was one of your favorite things about him. Even better was the unexpected shock you received whenever he would suddenly drop the radio filter and all you heard was pure, unadulterated Alastor. As if he had been reading your mind, the deer demon pulled you from your thoughts with another thrust and a few words without his famous filter. "God has no place here. You know that," Alastor groaned as you raised your hips, deciding to give him a small taste of his own medicine. Slamming your hips down again, you smirked once more as he released a sharp gasp followed by a drawn out moan as you started to build a pace. "Oh fuuuck meee... D-darling...- nghhhaha...- please-" he moaned out as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room once more.

Alastor raised one of his hands to rest on the back of your head, digits threading themselves through your tangled strands as he began to buck up into you - heavy balls slapping against the fat of your ass with a 'pap! pap! pap!' sound. He drew your face closer to his, pressing your foreheads together while he used you as a cocksleeve, the remnants of your previous releases creating strings connecting his thighs to your ass. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Hoh-ooohh shiiiittt!" He moaned out in time with each thrust, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he started to lose himself once more in the way your sweet pussy clenched and pulsated around his throbbing dick.

"Hah! Hah! Fuh-... uhah!! Ala-... Al-... Hah! Ah!" You cried, nails digging into the sheets beneath his head, losing what little control you had before he started this bruising pace. "Oh fuck, ohhh fuuuckkk..." Alastor breathed out, that familiar knot in the pits of his belly tightening more and more with every slam, every thrust to your soaking cunt. "You're gonna make me-... mmpphhhoh shit! Make me cum!"

* he SO has a happy trail~ I just can't decide if it's red or black. But I KNOW he puts conditioner on it, so it's not all wiry and scratchy when you go down oh him ahaaa~ 🥴

MINK, GURL YOUR MERCY COMMENT WAS ONE OF MY BIGGEST REASONS FOR THINKING UP MORE ADDITIONS OF COURSE YOU'RE IN THE LOOP! You'll never not be in the loop my love, your reactions are pure gold and give me life~! Besides I gotta give something back, make yall feel the same way I do when I read anything you post! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

btw it's literally killing me rn that I can't interact publicly with any of yall's stuff. I wanted to wait until I was in the final stages of writing the planned fics I have for each of you, but I don't think I can hold on to my anonymity much longer! YOUR MINDS ARE JUST SO BEAUTIFUL JFC HOW DID I FIND NOT ONE BUT THREE?! AND IN THE SAME FANDOM?!?! LIKE HOW?!?!?!?!?!

Danny baby your puns have me rolling omfg 🤣 I swear I'mma think of one or bring in some outside help (dad jokes ftw!) that's gonna knock you dead holy shit- BRING IT ON HUNNY PUN. LET'S DO THIS 💖💥 ... I'll see myself out 🤣

- ☄️❤️ Smut Santa

「He drew your face closer to his, pressing your foreheads together while he used you as a cocksleeve」

あああああ

I LOVE BEING USED AS A COCKSLEEVE HOW DID YOU KNOW SMUT SANTA— SMUNTA? SMANTA. SMUT CLAUS

SAINT DICKOLAUS

Summoning @minkdelovely @sugoi-writes

Also a doe in fall part 6 also has reader riding, heavy balls, and forehead touches??? Get outta my fucking head???

#hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #fanfiction #smutbox #smut santa #☄️❤️

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 12 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her. warning(s): a homophobic character saying some homophobic shit. listen, it's set in 2004 it was inevitable.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11

"So..." Gretchen drawled from the passenger seat. "You're still not doing the dance with us?"

Regina glanced at her. "No."

"Cady's taking the lead." The brunette said, very badly acting as if she wasn't looking for a reaction. Regina resisted the urge to bite back, to defend her honour, and kept her eyes on the road.

"Great." She said, voice tart. "She's doing the stunt, is she?"

"Yup." Gretchen's breath hitched. "She's, uh, got it nailed down."

A mean smirk spread her lips. "Oh, really? I'm looking forward to it."

Gretchen swallowed. Regina spied from the rearview mirror Karen was watching the scenery pass by dreamily.

"What's up, Karen?" Regina asked.

"The sky!" Karen stated proudly. "And birds, I suppose. Hold on..." She felt up her boobs, pulling at her nipple obscenely. "Ouch. Yeah, it's gonna start snowing soon."

Regina, knowing the forecast had promised much the same thing, hummed. "Gonna have to stay in, then."

Gretchen shifted her weight on the passenger seat. She seemed uneasy. Both she and Karen had been severely late to arrive at her car today and had seemed... Dodgy. Regina could hardly blame her, though. Things had gotten weird recently.

She wasn't being nice. Not exactly. She'd just, kind of, dialled it back a little. A year ago she'd have spent the days leading up to Christmas break making the rounds, spreading nasty rumours about this and that, ensuring everybody's holidays were ruined just the right amount. This time, she'd forgone that.

A part of it, a large majority, was due to the Thanksgiving fiasco with Jorts. Another, smaller part, was because she was tired. She just didn't want to.

Arriving at her house, Regina parked and stepped out of her car. Gretchen and Karen followed her inside where mom greeted them with mugs of hot chocolate. Fancy chocolate and skim milk. Regina pointedly left her mug on the tray.

As she was going up the stairs, she noticed neither Gretchen nor Karen had grabbed a mug.

"Take them." She gestured vaguely back to her mom. "Don't be wasteful, girls."

Making her way up leisurely, she relished in the sound of the two girls scrambling to grab their mugs and then follow her as fast as possible. She might've loosened her hold on the student body, but Gretchen and Karen she'd keep. She didn't care if it was immoral or something, she'd done a lot of work to get them where they were.

"Shane Oman's doing a Christmas party this Friday," Gretchen informed them as they settled around Regina's room. "There's talk he's specifically invited Doris Harris."

"Who the fuck names their kid Doris Harris?" Regina scoffed and inspected her nails. She'd have to get a new set soon. "Are you going?"

"What? You- you're not?" Gretchen sputtered.

"I have... Plans." Important, top-secret plans. "Shane Oman is a sleazebag and a womanizer. Doris can have him." She said airily and looked at the two girls sitting on her floor.

"What plans do you have?" Gretchen probed. Karen looked on, seeming to be in her own world. Little specks of snow were beginning to fall outside.

"Private." She left it at that. "Who are you bringing to the party?"

"Probably Jason." Gretchen sighed. Regina's face twisted.

"You're still with that douche?" She sat down cross-legged near the two. "Why?"

"Oh, do you think I should break up with him?" Gretchen looked between her and Karen, seeming lost. "I can do that."

Regina rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe she'd put a little too much work in these two. They were old enough to think for themselves.

"Look, Gretchen..." She closed her eyes. "I'm not gonna say sorry. I'm, uh, just not going to." She didn't tack on the yet that meant to crawl up her throat. Too much too fast. "However, it's becoming apparent that my usual methods are no longer as effective. Exhibit A, Cady Heron."

Gretchen stared at her. Then, her head tilted to the side like that of an inquisitive dog. Karen was gaping at her, having probably not comprehended a single word. Regina sighed.

"Look, I'm not gonna just waste my time and energy putting people down anymore!" She was feeling way too defensive and the others hadn't even said anything. "I might, like, join a sports team or something for senior year. Focus on myself."

"Wow." Gretchen breathed out. "So, you're just gonna step down?"

"I'm still Regina fucking George. I'm not gonna stop being me." That being a vicious bitch with a lot of hate in her heart. "I'm just saying that it's getting old."

"Why? You- you can't just stop. That makes no sense. Someone's gonna take you over, like- like Doris Harris!" Gretchen took several short breaths, this close to hyperventilating. "Doris Harris is going to be the new Regina George!"

She rolled her eyes so hard her entire head rolled with them. "That statement contradicts itself. If she's the new Regina George, I'm still on top. The original."

"You sound so alike." Karen smiled. "You two are so cute. True love."

"Karen!" Gretchen snapped, sounding like a chihuahua. "Shush!"

"Who sounds alike?" Intrigued, Regina leaned forward. "Me and who? True love?"

"Oh, uh..." Karen looked to Gretchen, who was trying (and failing) to subtly shake her head, and then to Regina whose eyes bored into hers. "Uhhhhhhh..."

"She's rebooting." Regina huffed, leaning back. "Gretch, I just... I don't care anymore."

It had been a startling realization. Not a quick one despite the one eureka moment that'd brought it all together. There were things more important to her than maintaining a hierarchy in high school. It still was important, to a degree, but well. If she had to pick between one-upping some random girl at a shitty party and date night with Jorts, the choice was entirely too obvious. It was going to be date night every time.

(If she even had that privilege anymore. She's called her slurs, for fuck's sake. She could only hope her apology would be good enough.)

"How can you not care?" Gretchen screeched. Karen sipped at her hot cocoa nervously.

"I just don't." Something like this, not caring about something, wasn't a decision she could consciously make. At least, not entirely. Once you stopped caring, you just did. That was that.

It wasn't easy, though. She didn't have the strength of will to be deliberately mean to everyone, every single day, but she would not tolerate people stepping on her toes. If somebody encroached, she wouldn't hesitate to bring them down. Where the line went, distinguishing between a serious threat and a general nuisance, was the hard part.

Letting go of the instinct to just be mean was a challenging hurdle.

"She's changed you. All this time, you've been talking to her, haven't you? J, Jorts, whoever she is. She's corrupted you." Gretchen sneered. "What happened, Regina? Or should I say, Reggie?"

Regina looked at her friend, minion, accomplice- whatever.

"Excuse me?" She said, so quietly it could've been mistaken for a whisper.

"You heard me." Gretchen's sneer dissolved, old instinct to cower kicking in. "Reggie." She hissed, a feeble attempt at keeping her power.

"What the fuck do you know about J?" Regina could feel herself grow cold, anger mixing with panic, mixing with visceral, palpable terror.

Of course, all that manifested as blind fury.

"We know plenty about J. You've never shut up about her. Y'know, I used to think she was an ex-boyfriend of yours 'cause of the way you talked about her. And now, it all makes sense." Gretchen spread her arms provocatively. "Because she's gotten into your head, used her sticky, lesbo fingers to mix you up. Snap out of it, Regina. This is not who you are."

Anger roiling in her stomach, she was about to release pure acid onto the dimwitted, insensitive, stupid girl, when Karen spoke up.

"Gretchen, you're being stupid." She said so lightly. Both of them turned to look at Karen. She was watching the window, looking immensely pleased with herself. Yet another correct weather report.

"What?" Gretchen breathed out.

"Stupid. That's stupid. I didn't know you were, like, homophobic." Seeming to focus, Karen turned to face Gretchen. "I think I told you my brother's gay."

"Oh." Gretchen deflated. Regina didn't know what she should do. "Well, that's different, he's a guy! Lesbians are totally different."

"How?" Karen, more engaged than Regina had witnessed her be in a long time, kept her eerily wide eyes trained on Gretchen. "How is it any different?"

"Listen, everybody can do what they want with... Whoever, like, consents, but it's different when they shove their beliefs in people's faces." Regina, quite astounded, didn't know what to say. Karen did, though.

"J didn't shove anything in our faces. I don't think she shoved anything in Regina's face." She put her finger to her chin. "Unless they're into that sort of thing."

"Karen..." Regina sighed.

"Anyway, I think your opinions about gay people are weird, Gretchen. You should look into that."

"My opinions are just fine!" Gretchen's shoulders rose all the way up to her ears. "You guys are the weird ones! It's not like I hate gay people! There's just, y'know, healthy concern. If it was so easy to turn Regina then what can they do to impressionable little kids?" Gretchen licked her lips nervously. "What about Kylie?" She asked, looking to Regina for sympathy or agreement or something.

By that point, Regina had checked out.

"I don't think Regina's changed. Not really." Karen's owl eyes turned to her. "She's just... Shedding. Like a snake. Getting a new skin." She dragged her eyes up and down. "Yeah. New, shiny scales. Like a blonde, human green tree python. My dad has one. A snake one."

"Thanks," Regina said, tone flat. She then turned to Gretchen. "Get out."

Her hands trembled. Rage or fear, she couldn't tell where the tremor stemmed from.

"Regina, this isn't right-"

Just the sound of her voice made her blood boil. Her eyes stung too, but she refused to feel anything but anger.

"What isn't right is that you're still in my house. J is my childhood friend and the assumptions you've made about her are life-threatening. People are killed because they're gay, Gretchen. She hasn't turned me into anything, much less something you're insinuating." The claim that Jorts had turned her into a lesbian was false. If there were to be a claim about Regina's sexuality alone, then the answer wouldn't be so clear. "Get your fucking act together. I'm too good to bother with high school politics. We're going to college in two years. Stop being so small-minded and do something with your life for once."

She heaved in lungfuls of air. She stood up abruptly, walked to the door and pointed down the hallway.

"I-" Gretchen tried to say something, but Regina just reiterated her point.

"Out!"

She didn't particularly care that her friend (ex-friend) didn't have a ride home. She didn't care that she was a bigot, that Gretchen was right about her and Karen being the weird ones. She didn't care that Jorts had definitely changed her in some way.

As soon as the brunette had scuttled down the stairs, the front door slamming on her way out, Regina slumped against her door. She didn't care. She did not care.

"So, is it just us, now?" Karen asked from her spot on the floor. Regina was pretty sure she hadn't moved an inch since she plopped down. "Is J gonna be our new friend?"

"I don't know, Karen." She buried her face in her hands. Fuck. She wasn't supposed to care. "I didn't know Gretchen was like that."

"Hmm." Karen hummed. "I didn't know you weren't like that."

Her head snapped up, looking at Karen. Her expression was unreadable, like a book with blank pages.

"I... I'm scared, Karen."

"Yeah. My brother's boyfriend is from Alabama and he's been beat up before 'cause he looks gay. And he is gay, but the earring gave it away, I think. And my uncle died of AIDS and my family don't really talk about him and we weren't allowed to see him. My aunt that's in New York's been living with her best friend of, like, thirty years for forever and I went to visit one time and they had only one bedroom."

That was perhaps the longest, most coherent sentence Karen had ever said. Too bad the subject was so grim.

"Wow, Karen. Sounds like your family's full of..." What could she call them? Her mind defaulted to nasty slurs. "People like that."

"I guess." She smiled faintly. "I hear them crying sometimes, in my brother's room, when they're home for the holidays. Mama says I shouldn't go up and snuggle them until they feel better. They're having a moment." Karen looked confused at that. "Are we having a moment?"

Regina slowly unfurled from her slump against the door. "Maybe."

"Oh. Okay." She accepted easily. The familiarity of the scenario had a smile creeping back to Regina. "My brother smiles the biggest when me and his boyfriend team up against him at board games. My mom cries when we visit my uncle's grave. She tells us stories about him and shows us pictures. My aunt has three cats with her bestie and they call them their children and they wear matching rings."

"That's really sweet, Karen." Regina, now smiling in earnest, shuffled closer.

"I don't really get it." She said in the same light tone she'd use when talking about schoolwork. "Like, my brother's boyfriend is really nice so I don't get why people beat him up for dating my brother. And I think it was really mean that my grandma didn't let mama see her brother when he was sick. And my aunt and her best friend already live together, have cat-kids, and kiss on the mouth, so why can't they get married for real?"

Regina stared ahead, more than a little floored. Gretchen, simultaneously surprisingly and unsurprisingly, was a homophobe. Regina knew the political climate and knew that being openly gay was social suicide, and sometimes literal suicide, but she hadn't expected someone so close to her to be like that. They hadn't talked about it much, to be fair. Besides, Regina wasn't much better. While she might've not been a real homophobe, as in actually subscribed to the ideology, she'd done plenty of homophobic acts.

Whether or not in the name of projection or denial didn't really matter. Janis 'Imi'ike had been the first girl she'd subjected to hate crimes and discrimination, but not the last. How many times had she shoved other girls under the bus so she could get off scot-free? How many times had she done it for a twisted sense of fun?

Too many, was the easy answer. Not enough, whispered the scared, hidden thing in the back rooms of her mind.

And Karen was an ally. A supporter of the cause. And unexpectedly well-spoken when she had something she liked to talk about.

"Karen, I like girls."

"Me too!"

Regina's heart beat like a drum. She was beginning to sweat.

"No- I mean, like, I'm... A lesbian. I guess."

"Okay!"

She snuck a glance at the other girl. She was peering mournfully into her empty mug.

"Like your aunt and her best friend." She took a deep breath. "I like girls in that way."

"Uhh, duh," Karen smiled at her, beamed, really. "J is your true love."

"I wouldn't go that far." Regina sighed but had to purse her lips to keep from smiling. At the same time, a knot tightened in her chest, like hiccups trying to escape. She threw her head back and puffed out a breath, blinking rapidly.

"Let's go get more hot chocolate and I'll tell you about my talent show performance." She wiped discreetly at her eyes and extended a hand to Karen.

"Hot cocoa!" The girl exclaimed as she pulled herself up with Regina's help. "Ouuuhh, what kinda performance?"

"A song." Regina guided them down the hallway. "For her."

Obviously, she had more than just a song planned. A proper apology, for one, was in the works. Karen didn't need to know about that, though. That was between her and J.

Notes: Boo I lied it's not the last one. I thought it would be! I was wrong! I did start rambling like I kind of predicted in the notes of the last chapter. Or, like, I felt the ending would be a little too abrupt without some downtime. So have some Regina POV!

Will no longer be making predictions about when the end is. I'll only be contradicting myself lol. But like, the arc is coming to a close, a natural end is coming. And then the epilogue things.

Praying to god the taglist will work. Trying a new method today, fingers crossed! Hand-typing every single fucking name, no commas in between names, the utmost technicalities. This is the night fellas, the night we've been waiting for.

Edit: it didn't work. in fact, it worked worse than the other times! fuck! put another version of the list, back with commas, and it seems to tag some people but not all. gonna have to do some scouring on the internets.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism , @9unknown0 , @sage-rose2000 , @massive-honkas , @nattys-swiftie , @likefirenrain , @luz-enjoyer , @dandelions4us , @natashamaximoff-69 , @alexkolax , @jareaul0ver , @here4theqts , @charleeeesworld , @natsbiggestfan1 , @brocoliisscared , @yellowwallflowers , @scarlettbitchx , @ayoungexwife , @cyberbonesworld , @syddie-reads , @screechcat , @theenglishswiftie , @gabby-duhh , @sweetmissnothing , @masterofpuppets-10 , @l1lass , @starved-mortal , @nothanksbye07 , @nenas19 , @jvuyii , @starry-night17 , @reneeswife24 , @glorioushamsterqueen , @krononan , @slug-on-bike , @rayisaknight , @chaseatlanticlover91 , @reginassweetheart , @mirage018

(if you want to be added to the taglist, comment so on this post! beware it seldom works. i try my best.)

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #wlw

[cult-of-the-eye]

Incident people so far:

dice guy who got so deep in character he both killed a man and started wearing fedoras

breaking news! guy wants money so bad that he throws himself off a cliff to get it! watch as he is shocked by the consequences!

treeman treeman treeman TREEMAN TREEMAN TREEMAN

the ocean is gonna fucking GET you

lap dance gone horribly wrong

don't go the magnus institute don't you fucking do it

a children's tv mascot turns out to be just as creepy as we thought it was gonna be

grifters bone 2: regency edition

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp incidents #tmagp 1 #tmagp 13 #tmagp 12 #tmagp 3 #in love with all of these

[velvetjune]

The difference between Ahti in Control vs Alan Wake gets to me constantly, it’s so damn funny and for what. Every time i stumble upon Ahti in Control he’s always saying something about how shitty and greedy the bureau is, that he needs a holiday. In Alan Wake, he’s in the literal dark place, an absolute nightmare, talking about Tom’s bloody snuff film with a smile on his face like “i think it’s great my friends have artistic hobbies :)”

#sorry i keep mentioning this i just adore Ahti #alan wake 2 #control 2019 #control remedy #ahti #he’s so optimistic 99% of the time in Alan wake 😭 #when rose yells at him and tells him to put something on the jukebox #and he’s like ‘hehe time to get my dance on :)’ #ahtis the BEST god i love him #(the other 1% is that scene where he seems confused and starts to question where he is 😔)

[cameronspecial]

how about we go a lil angsty? the reader hadn’t yet told him about her being pregnant bcs she remembers Drew once said he doesnt know if he wants to be a dad and so she tried to bring the topic up with hypothetical questions and his answers not exactly the thing she wanted to hear so she went all silent and pulled herself away and stuff.

I dont wanna give it away, so please you decide the ending..either they communicate and Dad!Rafe rise or…

I Want This

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Abortions and Miscommunication

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Well… She doesn’t know what she expected the results to be, but this is definitely an answer. Y/N doesn’t even think she can focus on the opinion she has of this situation because all she can think about is Drew’s.

———

“Awww, Babe, look at this pic of Lils that Mac sent me,” he gushed, holding his phone up to his fiancée. She looked up from her laptop, “So cute. Ugh, I miss them so much. I mean look at those little baby rolls. I just want to cuddle the cutie.” He smiled and brought her head under the crook of his neck. “I know. We have to visit them soon. I’m so glad I have a niece. It means I can be the fun uncle forever and never have to be a dad,” he mindlessly thought out loud, going back to scrolling on his phone. This caused her to freeze; they never talked about having kids, but he was so good with them that she assumed he would want them. She should’ve asked him about it because she wanted them. She didn’t though. Kids were important to her and so was Drew. She wasn’t ready to cause a rift in their relationship because of something small. 

———

Staring at the positive pregnancy test, she has to figure out a way to gauge how he would feel about it before actually telling him the truth. Once she knows how he feels, it will help her decide how she wants to feel about it seeing that if they are on the opposite page, then she would have to make a difficult decision. She shoves the positive tests into the box and hides them in her makeup drawer. He never goes looking there. She exits the bathroom, lets out a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen to start getting lunch ready. Drew is coming home from filming in Morocco later today. The music blasting through the speakers makes her unaware of the new presence in the house. He smiles at the dancing silhouette cutting potatoes. His hand drops over her eyes and she sets the knife down with a grin. Her arms wrap around her neck to bring him down towards her. This allows her to pepper his face with kisses. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to be back until tonight,” she notices, turning the music off. His hand rests on her hip, “I was, but I was offered an early flight and I couldn’t say no to seeing my girl early. I missed you and I love you.” She sinks into his hold. “I missed and love you too.”

The couple spend the next half an hour cooking together before settling themselves at the dining room table. Since they talked to each other throughout cooking, silence falls over them. A chime comes from his phone and he checks it to see a text from his sister. “Mac is planning on coming down with Lils and my mom soon. They can stay in the guest room, right?” Drew confirms, reading over the text again. She nods, “Yeah, I’ll get it ready over the weekend and buy one of those travelling crib things for Lils. It is going to be fun to have a baby around the house. The guest room would make a nice baby room in the future. It has nice big windows and the closet is the perfect size.” The chuckle that comes out of his mouth drops her stomach into a furnace. 

“What’s so funny?” she questions. He shrugs, “Not the babysitting part. They could both use a break and I will never say no to spending time with my niece. It’s just the thought of having to turn the guest room into a baby room is funny.” 

“Oh, why?”

“I don’t know. It’s a guest room. I mean where would our family stay when they come over?” 

“Yeah, where would they stay?”

She should probably ask if he meant he can’t imagine the room as a baby room right now or if it was a forever thought; however, she is scared of the answer she is going to get so she shuts down the conversation. They sit in a new tension-filled silence that he pretends he can’t feel. 

———

After lunch, Y/N retreats to the backyard to swing in the hammock. This tells him that she needs some space and he knows she is upset when she is still outside at eleven p.m. The friction of the patio door sliding against each other makes her turn to him. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, waiting for him to say something. He places the plate of pasta he made for dinner onto the side table beside the hammock. “I found the pregnancy tests,” he states, bringing one of the patio chairs close to her. She freezes and sits up. Her legs swing over the fabric to face him, “How?” “Maddie helped me pick out clay pot Moroccan lipstick for you and I wanted to surprise you with it. I was going to hide it in your drawer…” he explains, eyes falling to his fingers and trailing off at the end. Her head moves up and down. Her thoughts are moving around her head a thousand miles a second. He is going to break up with her. He is going to make her have an abortion. Or worse. He is going to make her choose between the baby or him on the spot. 

He grows nervous when she doesn’t say anything and his suspicions are confirmed. He understands why she is unsure about talking to him about this. The way he has spoken about having a baby in the past could’ve given her the wrong idea. He hesitantly reaches to place a hand on hers and does it when she doesn’t shy away. “I want you to know that the decision about what we do with the baby is up to you and I will be at your side during the whole process,” he assures. Her confusion causes tears to crop up in her eyes, “You don’t want the baby though. I know that, so if you are going to break up with me because I do, then just do it. But making me have to choose is kinda cruel.” His heart squeezes, hating that his words aren’t coming out as he means them to be. His head shakes like crazy and he sits beside her. He brings her head against his chest, “Babe, I don’t want to break up with you. I want to have this baby with you too.”

“You want the baby? Then how come you don’t think the guest room would be a good baby room?”

“Because my office would be a better one. The windows aren’t too big so it won’t wake the baby up in the morning and the closet there is even bigger, so when they get older they can have as many clothes as their heart desires.”

“Okay, you are right… What about when you said you want to be an uncle forever and never be a dad?”

“Honestly, I never really thought I would want to be a dad. I was content with being an uncle, but, Babe, when I found that pregnancy test, all I could think about was how happy I was to be bringing a child into the world with the most amazing woman in the world and I couldn’t wait to raise them with you.”

She leans back and rests a warm palm on his cheeks, trying to hold back her tears. “So you want to have this baby?” she verifies. He kisses the tears away, “I want this, Babe. I promise. We are going to do this. Together.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

#dad!drew #dad!drew starkey #drew #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine

[elryuse]

WANT YOU BACK

WINTER X MALE READER

Tags : Possessive EX GF Winter, Pregnancy, Cheating, Teasing, Creampie, Quickie

Winter choked back a sob, the smoky jazz club blurring into a canvas of swirling lights and pounding bass. Across the crowded dance floor, Y/n's laughter echoed, a sound that once brought sunshine into her days and now felt like a cruel taunt. He was happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy with his new girlfriend, Karina – a vision of effortless beauty draped on his arm.

Regret gnawed at Winter's insides, a ravenous beast that had been growing stronger with every passing day. A year ago, Y/n had been her world. The kindest, most patient boyfriend a girl could ask for. But Winter, fueled by a twisted yearning for excitement and the allure of a "bad boy" fantasy, had thrown it all away. Now, the sight of his happiness with someone else ignited a firestorm of jealousy and a terrifying realization: what if she'd lost him forever?

Panic clawed at her. She couldn't lose Y/n. Not entirely. A twisted plan, fueled by possessiveness and a warped sense of entitlement, began to take shape in her mind. She would get him back, even if it meant manipulation and control.

Excusing herself from her date, Winter weaved through the throng of dancing bodies, her eyes fixated on Y/n. As she approached, she noticed a flicker of surprise followed by a cautious warmth in his eyes.

"Winter??" he greeted, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. Karina, sensing the tension, shot her a withering look.

"C-can I talk for a minute… alone?" Winter purred, her voice dripping with forced vulnerability.

Y/n hesitated, his gaze flitting between Winter and Karina. Karina rolled her eyes and reluctantly excused herself. Winter led Y/n to a secluded corner, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

"I-i shouldn't have done what I did Y/n, " she began, her voice trembling slightly. A performance worthy of an Oscar. "You were the best thing that ever happened to my life, A-and I threw it all away."

Y/n, ever the believer in second chances, looked at her with a mixture of empathy and residual hurt. "W-winter," he started, his voice gentle. "Karina and I—"

"I know," she cut him off, tears welling up in her eyes. "But maybe… just maybe.." she trailed off, letting the unspoken suggestion hang heavy in the air.

Y/n sighed, torn between his loyalty to Karina and his lingering emotions for Winter. "Winter, we can't just—"

Winter leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "Just one night, Y/n. Let me show you what I've been missing. What you've been missing."

Her words, laced with a desperate yearning, struck a chord in Y/n. Memories flooded back - stolen kisses, whispered secrets, the warmth of her hand in his. He couldn't deny the lingering feelings, the pull of a familiarity that resonated deep within him.

In the dimly lit corner, away from the prying eyes of the club, they fell into each other's arms. The kiss ignited a spark within them, a wildfire fueled by pent-up emotions and unspoken desires. It was a desperate kiss, raw and hungry, like two drowning souls clinging to a lifeline. "I knew you wanted it..". Winter whispers, Her voice desperate of affection.

Winter's touch was a stark contrast to the carefree affection Karina so readily bestowed upon Y/n. Her fingers dug into his back, a possessive hold that sent shivers down his spine. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as their lips met in a frenzied dance. "Fuck Me Y/n.. Fuck me..". Winter begged, as she began to undress.

"W-winter s-slow down". The air crackled with electricity. Winter's eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, flickered with a possessiveness that made Y/n's breath hitch. There was a hunger in her gaze, a desperate need for control that sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn't the sweet affection they once shared; it was a darkness that both terrified and enticed him. "Cum... Cum inside me... Stay with me like this.. Please..". Winter begged, as finally Y/n released strings of his cum deep inside her womb.

As they stumbled back, breathless and flushed, a sense of foreboding settled over Y/n. There was a possessiveness in Winter's behavior that hadn't been there before. He knew this stolen night was no reconciliation, but a twisted game he was being drawn into against his better judgment.

Winter's eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. "This feels like coming home," she whispered, her voice husky with desire before she kissed him once again.

But in the pit of Y/n's stomach, a chilling premonition bloomed. He wasn't sure he was coming home, but rather entering a dark labyrinth, lured back by a love that had turned possessive and manipulative.

Winter cradled the positive pregnancy test in her hand, her emotions a tangled mess. Relief warred with a horrifying sense of manipulation. This wasn't the happy reunion she'd envisioned. This was a twisted trap sprung on Y/n.

The stolen night in the club had been fuelled by desperation, not love. It had served its purpose, though. Winter had him back, tethered to her by an invisible chain: the baby growing within her.

The next morning, she played the heartbroken victim. Tears streamed down her face as she confessed to Y/n about the test. "We can't pretend this didn't happen," she cried, knowing full well he wouldn't abandon a child.

Y/n, ever the good guy, fell into the trap. He felt responsible, obligated. But every visit to Winter's apartment felt like a descent into a suffocating prison. Her possessiveness escalated with each passing day.

"You can't see Karina anymore," Winter declared one evening, her voice laced with a chilling finality. Y/n protested, reminding her of Karina's innocence in all this. "This is between us, Y/n," Winter hissed, a manic glint in her eyes. "You're mine now."

He tried to explain the situation to Karina, but guilt choked his words. In the end, the confused silence and strained distance became too much for her to bear. She broke up with him, heartbroken and bewildered.

Winter celebrated this "victory" with a chilling smile. Y/n was now truly hers, isolated and trapped. She used the pregnancy as a weapon, a constant reminder of his supposed transgression. "Every scan, every milestone," she'd say, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, "a reminder of what we had."

Yet, with each passing week, the facade of happiness wore thin. Winter felt a growing resentment towards the child, a constant reminder of her deceit. But most of all, she resented Y/n. His forced presence, his hollow attempts at conversation, only amplified the emptiness within her.

One night, as Y/n sat awkwardly on the couch, Winter launched into a tirade. "You don't love me! You never did!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "Y-you just feel sorry for me!"

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional abuse, snapped. "I do care about you, Winter," he said, his voice tired. "But I can't love someone who holds me hostage with threats and guilt."

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. Winter recoiled, a flicker of fear replacing the anger in her eyes. She might have trapped him physically, but emotionally, she'd pushed him to the edge.

The flicker of fear in Winter's eyes was fleeting, replaced by a cold glint that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. He'd seen that look before, in the dimly lit corner of the club – the predator assessing its prey.

"Hostage?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with a terrifying calmness. "I gave you a chance, Y/n. A chance to be a family. Maybe you don't love me, but you'll learn."

Her next words were a chilling whisper. "Besides, where would you go? Do you really think Karina would take you back after this?"

Y/n's stomach churned. She was right. Shame choked him, muting any further protest. Winter sensed his resignation and a victorious smile curled her lips. This was where the game truly began.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby preparations, and a suffocating sense of control. Winter micromanaged everything, making Y/n feel like a visitor in his own life. His attempts at connecting with the child felt staged, a constant performance under Winter's watchful eye.

Yet, a strange sense of normalcy settled in. Winter stopped mentioning Karina entirely, reveling in the fact that Y/n was trapped. Slowly, she started subtly chipping away at his support system. A "forgotten" work call from Y/n that turned into a week-long business trip. A "sudden illness" that kept his friends from visiting.

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional manipulation and guilt trips, barely noticed the isolation. He became a ghost in his own life, existing only to fulfill his "duties" as a father and a reluctant partner.

Years passed. Winter birthed two more children, each arrival a twisted celebration of her victory. Y/n remained a shell of his former self, a ghost trapped in a gilded cage of her own making. Winter, however, thrived. Her possessiveness had morphed into a twisted sense of ownership. Y/n belonged to her now, a trophy on her emotional shelf.

One cold evening, as the older children played in the living room, Winter snuggled close to Y/n on the couch. "See?" she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction. "We have a family now. Just like what you always wanted."

Y/n's eyes, devoid of their former warmth, met hers. There was no love in them, no regret, no longing. The years of manipulation had hollowed him out. He was simply a shadow, a reminder of the love she'd destroyed and the life they could have had.

A cold smile settled on Winter's face. In her twisted mind, this was their happy ending. Her ultimate victory. She had Y/n, and that was all that mattered. The love she'd craved, the genuine connection, was a forgotten casualty in her war for control. Winter had built her prison, bricked with manipulation and guilt, and in the process, had become as trapped as the man she held captive.

#aespa winter #winter #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #aespa minjeong #possessive #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #yandere #update #kpop smut #aespa smut #winter smut #apreciation post

[atlabeth]

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.1k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake. 

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point. 

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel. 

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there. 

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always. 

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.” 

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?” 

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.” 

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.” 

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says. 

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes. 

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says. 

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.” 

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs. 

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.” 

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.” 

-

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file. 

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene. 

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house. 

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt. 

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control. 

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.  

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics. 

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it. 

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.  

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything. 

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect. 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.” 

“What has he been charged for?” 

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail last year, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs. 

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind. 

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive. 

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh. 

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising. 

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock. 

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford. 

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.” 

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?” 

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?” 

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says. 

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…” 

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house. 

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all. 

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub. 

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.” 

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?” 

He nods. “I had a change of heart.” 

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.” 

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.” 

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Charles area.” 

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him. 

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things: 

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be. 

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school. 

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts. 

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says. 

You glower at him, but you stay silent. 

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.” 

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.” 

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?” 

You nod. “He lives with me.” 

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Why is that?” Hotch asks. 

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too. 

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”  

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going. 

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.” 

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.” 

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?” 

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you. 

“Really?” 

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him. 

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her. 

And he didn’t even know when she died. 

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad. 

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went five years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says. 

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb. 

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.” 

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.” 

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even. 

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.” 

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.” 

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.” 

“Do you want them to?” 

“...No.” 

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.” 

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.” 

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.” 

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says. 

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.” 

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.” 

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door. 

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again. 

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up. 

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?” 

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.” 

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. 

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.” 

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case— 

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.  

You’ve changed a lot. So has he. 

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him. 

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind. 

-

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.” 

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!” 

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.” 

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts. 

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief. 

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.” 

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses. 

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once. 

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck. 

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on. 

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity. 

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs. 

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world. 

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air. 

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

- 

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger. 

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it. 

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.  

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing. 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people. 

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong. 

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you. 

Because god— what are the odds? 

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother? 

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years. 

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time. 

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you. 

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.” 

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties. 

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?” 

“Not one for small talk,” you remark. 

“I never have been.” 

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.” 

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now. 

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face. 

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.” 

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.” 

“And home is?” 

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.” 

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says. 

“Sources can lie.” 

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.” 

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up. 

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had. 

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened. 

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”   

“None of those sound like questions,” you say. 

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“You don’t know,” he repeats. 

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I don’t ask questions.” 

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it.” 

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.” 

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?” 

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“You didn’t tell him—” 

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?” 

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse. 

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.” 

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.” 

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?” 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.” 

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply. 

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly. 

“And you’re wrong, by the way.” 

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken. 

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.” 

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you. 

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.” 

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.” 

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.” 

“...I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least. 

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.” 

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.” 

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.” 

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.” 

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You know th—” 

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.” 

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.” 

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking. 

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.” 

“The profile—” 

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.” 

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly. 

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this. 

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right. 

You have to be right. 

The room feels even colder. 

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do. 

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him. 

-

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room. 

“She does not like you.” 

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie. 

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands. 

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor. 

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.” 

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.” 

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him. 

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him. 

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things. 

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.” 

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again. 

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.” 

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.” 

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.” 

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.” 

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego. 

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.” 

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside. 

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch… 

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. 

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you. 

“They sent a new one in,” you say. 

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual. 

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off. 

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.” 

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation. 

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time. 

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks. 

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks. 

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says. 

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet. 

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong. 

-

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier. 

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once. 

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron. 

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s head as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard. 

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round. 

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed. 

Aaron says your name, and you hum. 

“Are you listening?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you say. 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?” 

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly. 

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully. 

Your eyes open and you frown. 

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate. 

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.” 

“...Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron. 

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction. 

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up. 

“Go for it,” you finally say. 

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?” 

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.” 

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.” 

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything. 

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

Sometimes you need reminders. 

“I love you too.” 

-

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.” 

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs. 

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third. 

No one expected this to happen so soon. 

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt. 

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work. 

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation. 

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved. 

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it. 

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press. 

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.” 

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.” 

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.” 

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on. 

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.” 

-

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight. 

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city. 

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information. 

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.” 

“What are they?” Hotch asks. 

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says. 

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks. 

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.” 

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.” 

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.” 

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests. 

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.” 

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?” 

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.” 

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully. 

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.” 

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.  

“And?” Hotch asks. 

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.” 

Hotch frowns. You? 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.” 

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again. 

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.” 

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.” 

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up. 

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.” 

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.” 

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.” 

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died five years ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail last year.” 

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.” 

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.” 

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.” 

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.” 

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.” 

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.” 

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says. 

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods. 

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him. 

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says. 

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks. 

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.” 

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him. 

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?” 

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.” 

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.  

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?” 

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—” 

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.” 

“What would I do without you?” he asks. 

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.” 

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up. 

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him. 

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze. 

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind. 

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”  

And he does. 

-

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear. 

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale. 

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame. 

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner. 

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff. 

Of course you have to deal with this now. 

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down. 

“You’re already packed.” 

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.” 

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning. 

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask. 

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?” 

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.” 

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.” 

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit. 

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”  

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him. 

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?” 

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

You take the box from him and smile thinly. 

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

-

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open. 

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.” 

“They haven’t been back, have they?” 

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail. 

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests. 

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.” 

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops. 

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff. 

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.” 

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. 

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” he says. 

“That’s it,” you muse. 

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up. 

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.” 

“...Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.” 

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?” 

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to. 

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.” 

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying?” 

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.” 

“What have they said about me?” he asks. 

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…” 

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.” 

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.” 

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.” 

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.” 

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home. 

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard. 

Then, there’s nothing. 

-

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is. 

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at. 

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims. 

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters. 

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that. 

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him. 

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.  

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that. 

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?” 

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.” 

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.” 

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night. 

And now… 

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not. 

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?” 

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it. 

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.” 

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.” 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly. 

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him. 

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.” 

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words. 

-

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why. 

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes. 

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs. 

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze. 

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.” 

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.” 

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body. 

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life. 

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.” 

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.” 

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?” 

“...You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.” 

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.” 

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.” 

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say. 

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.” 

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.” 

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises. 

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother had divorced him by then, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided. 

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?” 

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!” 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.” 

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.” 

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to. 

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly. 

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget. 

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out. 

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here. 

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now. 

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.” 

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.” 

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.” 

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says. 

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats. 

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.” 

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.” 

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?” 

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.” 

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you. 

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns. 

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think. 

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?” 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.” 

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave. 

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.” 

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.” 

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?” 

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.” 

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.” 

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.” 

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.” 

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.” 

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”  

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you. 

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.” 

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you. 

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it. 

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground. 

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you. 

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. 

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force. 

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead. 

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake. 

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms. 

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment. 

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.” 

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers. 

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron. 

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!” 

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. 

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name. 

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die. 

-

You wake up in the hospital alone.  

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you. 

The real surprise is that you wake up at all. 

Lucas is dead. 

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded. 

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real. 

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life. 

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day. 

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all. 

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life. 

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind. 

He was going to kill you. 

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU. 

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner. 

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him. 

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you. 

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.” 

“And how long have I been here?” 

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.” 

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask. 

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…” 

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.” 

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.  

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?” 

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start. 

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.” 

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.” 

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.” 

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!” 

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.” 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—” 

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same. 

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life. 

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues. 

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number. 

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.” 

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner. 

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.” 

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together. 

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.” 

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.” 

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit. 

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.” 

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.” 

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.” 

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out. 

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume. 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.  

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.” 

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down. 

“Okay.” 

And he stays. 

This time, he stays.

#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it #i wrote 15k words in 5 days #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

[kingkatsuki]

I started this in March and I finally managed to finish it. It was only supposed to be a short thirst post but yet here we are. Thank you if you decide to give it a go💕

Summary: Tengen thinks Sanemi is wound far too tight, and of course he knows just the way to fix it— by taking him to his favourite brothel.

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, reader is a courtesan, implied!Tengen using their services, virgin!Sanemi, sex as a transaction, slight degradation, praise, blowjobs, cum swallowing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, Sanemi is way too obsessed with reader way too fast (but she likes it!!)

Word Count: 9.4k.

“Allow yourself to indulge a little, my friend,” Tengen clapped his shoulder with a grin, “After all that’s what this district is for.”

“I have no time for indulgence.” Sanemi scoffed, ripping his shoulder out of Tengen’s grip as he bared his front incisors.

It was already insufferable enough that he’d had to spend the last few nights with the Sound Pillar, but it was made worse by the grand spectacle he’d made when they’d both entered the entertainment district for the first time. The bright lights paired with the bustling crowds seemed to evoke even more intolerable actions from Uzui and Sanemi couldn’t wait to get home.

“There’s always time for indulgence, my friend,” He persisted, not taking his answer for gospel as he continued down the brightly illuminated street, “And don’t you want to experience the soft touch of a woman?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Sanemi sneered, rolling his eyes as Tengen waved over at a group of women who were standing at the entrance to an establishment trying to coax him over.

All Sanemi wanted to do was find a bed at the local inn and rest his head for a few hours so he could be alert when searching for the demon that was rumoured to be sighted in the area. It disgusted him that people were seemingly still out satiating themselves with cheap frivolity when lives were at risk.

“You can’t die a virgin,” He continued, mid-wave, “How embarrassing.”

“You need to assess your priorities if that is what you assume to be an embarrassment.” He snapped, “Not when there are still demons alive—”

“Ah, I worry as much as you,” Sanemi highly doubted it, “But You never know you might find yourself relaxing a bit.” Tengen persisted, “Might find yourself less angry.”

Sanemi sneered as he balled his hands into a fist, preparing to land a strike against his cocky fellow hashira before Tengen pulled back the purple fabric to a building at the side of them, stepping inside the brothel.

“You can wait outside if you want, I’m sure you’ll find the street performers more than entertaining.”

Sanemi glanced towards the rowdy men who were currently playing instruments in the middle of the street, the loud noise irksome as people stopped to dance with them. Scrunching his nose in irritation as he turned to face the Sound Pillar.

“Fine,” His lips smoothed into a thin line, “But you’re fuckin’ paying.”

Sanemi lingered outside as he stared at the wisteria pattern against the curtain. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought before he took a deep breath and followed inside.

“Ah, Mr Uzui, your usual?”

“Not today,” He clapped a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “I’ve brought a friend.”

Sanemi could see the girls in the background begin to cower away, even though they tried to hide it. Shrugging Uzui’s hand off his shoulder with a growl of irritation as he tried to avoid the pairs of eyes watching him intently, jaw locked as he sucked in a breath of air.

“How wonderful, Uzui-sama.” The lady bowed as she motioned to a young girl, “Our Oiran is unavailable now, but I’m certain she will more than suffice.”

The girl cowered in fear as she was given a push in her lower back in an attempt to get her feet to start working, the poor thing. She’d barely been here a week and she’d already had a difficult afternoon with a travelling samurai who’d assumed being rough was included with the price.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Shinazugawa.” Uzui called out from behind him as Sanemi glared in irritation. There was certainly no chance of that happening, especially at the sight of the young girl that looked close to tears.

“It would be my honor to serve you tonight, my Lord.” You chanced stepping forward, feeling your Madame turn to glare at you.

“Remember your place,” She jeered, the same sickly sweet smile on her face to mask her indignation before turning back to the hashira, “I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-sama. Please let us show you to your room—”

“I want her.” He cut her off coldly, tired eyes matching your gaze as an unfamiliar heat lingered in your chest.

“Not to question your choice, my Lord. But we have many excellent options here—”

“Keep them.” He stepped towards you as you took this as your moment to turn around. Ignoring your Madame’s calls for him to enjoy his night, and request a change at any time if he so desired. It was no wonder she was worried about you tarnishing her reputation, trying to palm to hashira off on someone far more weak willed. But you were intrigued by the man from the moment he stepped through the door, and the poor girl needed a chance to recover from her ordeal.

You could practically feel his eyes on you as you led him down the wooden hallway towards your room, keeping enough of a distance as you slid the screen door open gently. Stepping to the side to invite him in with a slight bow of your head as the white-haired man followed into the room, scrunching his nose at the potent smell of flowers that permeated the air as you closed the door behind you. It was sickly sweet, worse than the ohagi he’d cook at home; invading his senses as he tried to ignore the scent throbbing at the back of his skull.

You could feel how awkward he was, lingering by the doorway as you could cut the tension in the air with a blade. Smoothing down the front of your kimono as you stood in front of him, noticing the way his lavender eyes took note of the futon in the corner of the room.

So this was the seedy shit that Uzui got up to in his free time? Sanemi scoffed.

An impertinent man with three wives who still managed to find the time to spend in the arms of another. Having one woman would be enough of a nuisance, he thinks. But juggling four sounded like pure greed.

“Can I get you anything Shinazugawa-sama?” You smiled, “Tea? Sake? We also have fresh onigiri—”

Sanemi wished you’d stop calling him that. He usually delighted in the honorific when he was called it by others, but the saccharine lilt to your voice as you danced along his name had his cock pulsing between his thighs uncomfortably.

“No.” He bit back the insult that threatened to follow as you nodded in affirmation.

“Well, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable for your time here,” You continued, “Our services are open to the Hashira for as long as they see fit.”

He scoffed at that, knowing that a Hashira’s pocket was rarely empty so it made sense they’d want to make as much money from them as possible.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You smiled softly, noticing he was silent as he remained still. The cogs in his head slowly turned as he wondered why he’d even agreed to this in the first place, how he’d even made it this far.

“You think I’m scared or somethin’?” Sanemi gibed, maybe a little harsher than intended, but it felt warranted. Your words made it seem as though you were questioning his valour. And Shinazugawa Sanemi never backed down in fear, especially not like this.

“No,” You tilted your head to the side and Sanemi felt his heart rattle at his cages with how cute you looked. Trying to fight the heat that was slowly rising through his body and tickling the tips of his ears.

He felt hot. If he’d have known this was how easily it was to increase his body temperature warm enough to potentially receive a mark, he would’ve demanded that Uzui bring him here a long, long time ago—

“I can just tell you’ve never been here before,” You hummed, “It’s probably unfamiliar to what you’re used to.”

You were right. Sanemi felt completely out of his depth.

“I have no desire to frequent a whorehouse.” He spat, masking his vulnerability. And yet he was acutely aware of the way you didn’t flinch like many would, cowering away from him in fear as though he were a coiled snake ready to attack.

It was at that moment your eyes met his across the room, and for the first time, he recognised the desolate emptiness in your eyes. He recognised it because it was the same one he held whenever he glanced at his reflection. So much time spent wallowing in self-loathing and pity, forcing himself to submerge himself in sheer hatred instead of looking at the ones around him. Sanemi could tell you’d been through a lot too, suffering at the hands of many while being forced into a life you’d never wanted for yourself. Much like him.

“But you’re here anyway, so you might as well relax for the time,” You smiled back, and it only pained him more that he’d spoken to you with such callousness, “And at least you can avoid your friend for a few hours.”

“Is that what all your visitors come here to do?” He sneered but did not attempt to move.

“To linger in the doorway?” You raised a brow, “No, you would be the first.”

Sanemi felt a heat rise all the way to the tips of his ears at this, noticing he’d barely stepped inside the room since you’d brought him this far.

“I don’t bite, you know.” You laughed as you watched him frozen in place.

Could you tell he was a virgin? He wondered if it was obvious from the way he lingered as his body became engulfed in flames. Willing the ground to swallow him whole at the prospect of appearing so inexperienced, and he was surprised at how much he cared.

“We have many people that come here just to talk,” You smiled, settling down into a kneel, “But you don’t seem like much of a talker.”

But that’s not why he was here, he thinks. The proposition had been offered to him, and Uzui had certainly never mentioned talking. “The perfect medicine!” He’d clapped him on the back as he’d led him towards the establishment, a haughty smile on his face. Sanemi was here to try and settle his temper, to blow off some steam. And yet here he still stood stoic in the doorway, silence hanging in the air.

“Well, if you don’t like to talk. Maybe you’d like to watch?” You offered up the option, as Sanemi froze.

What?

He was certain he wouldn’t make it from this room alive, spending years fighting demons only to be scuppered by a beguiling temptress like you. Positive Uzui had fed him to the wolves the moment he stepped through the doors to this establishment and pulled back the curtain.

Sanemi’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips, a futile action when his throat was this dry, as he played back your offer in his head. The words echoed in his ear as he wondered how he was supposed to receive them, whether he needed to say yes or if you would be so kind as to show him exactly what you meant.

He’d never thought much of laying with a woman before. His line of work failed to offer much chance of finding a suitable wife and settling down, even though Uzui had managed to find three. More interested in ridding the world of the scourge of demons instead of cheap frills and frivolity. Sanemi’s only glimpses of breasts had been in onsens or walking through the Red light district. Enough to have his cock pulsing between his thighs as he fought the temptation, but nothing like how you made him feel standing in front of him right now.

“Uzui-sama had said to show you—”

“Can’t you just get on with it?” He cut you off, definitely a little harsher than intended. But it’s to be expected when he’s like a wild deer backed into a corner, as you mentioned the shepherd that had dragged him to the slaughter.

He was going to kill Uzui-sama when he got out of this, he scoffed, the man probably only attended the house to hear that honorific.

“Of course, Shinazugawa-sama.” You smiled, as Sanemi’s eyes now focused on your smaller hands teasing the opening of your kimono, his cock bucking under his pants at the same honorific, “So you can learn how to please a woman.”

Sanemi didn’t want a woman, he had no intention of pleasing anyone. And yet he found himself wondering on what it would be like to please you. Whether your eyes would roll, or your toes would curl. Thinking about the saccharine sigh of his name tumbling from your lips when he had you on the crux of your bliss. And then he began to wonder whether any man had ever pleased a woman inside these four walls, whether a man had ever pleased you—

“Is that even important?” He scoffed, lips coiled into a sneer as you sat back on your haunches.

“Well, it depends. I’m sure as long as you have a woman to lay with you’ll find your pleasure,” You smiled, finding no offence in his question, “But if you help her find her pleasure you’ll be far more satisfied.”

Sanemi felt the heat inside him start to burn as you pressed him to stay. Telling himself it was out of pure intrigue as he lowered his sword to the floor, his palm still clasped over it as he made his decision to stay.

You managed to get him to kneel, although he positioned himself with one foot on the ground. Knee bent as though he was preparing to flee the scene the moment this became too much.

“So you’re only here because of your friend?” You posed the question to him in an attempt to break the ice, though it was more than obvious to be true.

The hunched shoulders and flushed cheeks made it wholly apparent that this wasn’t one of his usual haunts. And that the Hashira felt extremely out of place—

Awkward.

“He seems to think I’m wound too tight,” Sanemi grunted, eyes focused on the way you languidly disrobed.

If he had the confidence he’d reach across the room and pull the haori down your shoulders himself, telling you to hurry up. He’d never witnessed someone take so long to disrobe, although he supposed this was some sort of show you were supposed to put on for the drunken men who frequented the establishment. So he held back, watching as the fabric finally pooled around you.

“So he brought you here to let off some steam.” You smile, beginning to work on the buttons at the front of your kimono.

“And what say you?” He sneered, “What do you think?”

“I’d say your job is difficult,” You whispered, slowly pulling back the front of your kimono to expose your naked breasts to his prying gaze.

Sanemi didn’t say anything, but you noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Nostrils flaring as he exhaled softly as the fabric fell around you to join your haori.

“It’s no wonder you have so much rage inside.” You continue, hands delicate in your lap as you allow him to look at you, “It’s okay to let it out. To release some tension—”

You were right, Sanemi supposed. Although since being inside this building he somehow felt worse— the tension continuing to build inside his abdomen as his pelvis tightened uncomfortably, his heavy cock throbbing with desire as it pressed against the front of his uniform. Shifting his thighs as he tried to give himself some slight relief from the incessant throb, as you did little to satiate it when you began to tease your naked breasts.

“Are you a virgin, Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked, although you were certain you already knew the answer.

“What’s it to you?” He mocked, “You’re just a common whore ready to spread her legs. It’s your job—”

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” You smile softly, finding no malice in his words. It was clear he was trying to deflect your question, as though the answer burned him to say, “I was certain you wanted to talk.”

You were worried you may have pushed him too much, that he would turn and flee the room and leave you naked and alone. Or worse— attack.

You’d had it happen before. Men who would enter the building of their own free will, before turning on you at the last moment. Hands wound tight around your neck as they blamed you for cheating on their wives, for making them do this. And it wasn’t just the men who had nothing else to lose; the ones that would spend their final gold on a night with a woman. These were respected members of society— samurai, business owners, and demon slayers. And perhaps that’s why every other woman had cowered in fear when the Wind Pillar had stepped through the door, because they expected nothing less from the ruthless Hashira.

But he looked vulnerable.

“If you don’t want to talk,” You continued to pull back the fabric of your kimono to expose your naked frame to his lilac eyes, the material cascaded down your body and onto the floor as you allowed him to drink in the sight of you. His eyes roamed your naked skin as they followed a path along your sternum, between the valley of your breasts until they settled on your chubby mound, “I’m certain there are other things we could do that would please you.”

Sanemi’s throat seized as he watched your hands reach up to mould against your round breasts, the skin dipping beneath your touch as you let out a soft, satisfied gasp. A sound that sent jolts of electricity surging through his veins. Enough to have his hands balling into tight fists that settled on top of his thighs as blunt nails dug into his palms, focused on the way your nipples hardened as you pinched and rolled them between your thumb and forefinger.

“You can touch me, you know,” You murmured, “I don’t mind.”

Sanemi swallowed thickly at the invitation. It was why he was here, after all. But somehow it felt daunting to reach out and close the gap, unsure where he should even start with you as he stayed stoic across the room.

You chanced scooting towards him across the wooden floor, settling yourself in front of him as you reached out to grasp one of his tightly closed fists. Gently prying his fingers open as he allowed you to contort his hand, splaying his fingers as you laced your fingers through his own, threading them together as your warmth engulfed him.

The action felt too intimate, which felt peculiar to say when he was sat opposite a half-naked stranger. And yet, he found himself not wanting to pull away. He leaned into your touch, his palm squeezing yours as you took it for reassurance, a soft smile on your face as he found himself beginning to relax.

“It’s okay,” You cooed, “We can just sit like this if you’d prefer.”

You were delighted when you felt the tense muscles in his hand begin to relax as his clenched jaw softened.

“Or we can tell your friend we did everything you wanted,” You continue with a laugh, “And that way it wouldn’t be a lie.”

And Sanemi wished he could put all his wants into words. The thoughts that now ran rampant through his mind as he breathed in the candied scent of you, feeling you lean closer to pepper gentle kisses to the side of his jaw. Tickling his skin against the growing stubble that left a shadow as you moved forward to place your hand flat against his muscular thigh.

“There wouldn’t be a need to lie.” Sanemi’s voice was rough like gravel as he tried desperately to wet his tongue, the roof of his mouth giving no appeasement as his Adam’s apple bobbed thickly.

“Oh?” You murmured, feeling no hint of him pulling away as you leaned back to face him. Your breath fanning his skin as you looked at him through thick, long lashes. Sultry eyes flickering towards his chapped lips before returning his gaze, “So what would you like us to tell him?”

“W-what?” Sanemi stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic.

“What is it you’d like to tell him?” You smiled softly, your hand slipping higher along his thigh, “What stories do you want to return with?”

And now Sanemi was certain this was the closest he’d come to death.

“Maybe I can suck your cock?” The words almost had him falling apart as he focused on every syllable, unused to someone speaking to him with such candour.

“Uh- yeah.” He felt the embarrassment begin to bloom inside him at his pathetic response as his eyes bore into your own.

You managed to get him on his back, chest heaving as you began to unfasten the belt around his hips. Watching the way his gut clenched in anticipation as you palmed him softly through the rough fabric, causing his hips to buck as he cursed beneath his breath.

“You feel big, Shinazugawa-sama.”

“Call me Sanemi.” He barked back gruffly, wanting to hear the sweet sound of his name leave your lips instead.

“Of course, Sanemi.” You cooed. Never making it to the futon as you straddled his thighs where he lay on the hardwood floor. Shrugging off the rest of your kimono to leave your body completely bare above him as he had to try to remember to breathe.

It was difficult to think when he noticed just how close your bare cunt was to his crotch, certain he could feel the warmth radiating from it against his thigh as you began to tug his pants down. Enough to free his aching cock as it drooped hard and heavy against his pelvis, long enough to follow the curve of his hip as the uncut tip leaked pearlescent beads of pre. Your stomach swirled at the sight of him, what he lacked in size he made up for in sheer girth. Thick, bulging veins forking along his girth as you imagined how he would feel buried inside you, the stretch as he fucked to into the shape of him. The thoughts had your neglected cunt throbbing around nothing as you felt warm slick begin to pool between your thighs.

“I was right— you are big.” You noted, wrapping a slender hand around him at the base as his hips jerked in surprise. Biting back a sharp hiss from between clenched teeth at the sensation as his palms instantly balled into fists at his sides.

“Is that what you say to every man that passes through here?” Sanemi spat, but he secretly hoped this wasn’t the case. He was filled with the incessant desire to impress you, to have you fawning over him. Even though none of this was real.

“No, actually,” You smiled, “I think it might actually hurt if you fuck me.”

Sanemi’s cock kicked with your blase tone, certain he was about to come undone from your words alone. But as if that weren’t enough, he felt himself choking back a grunt when you leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his leaking tip. Licking your lips to taste his pre as you stared up at him from under thick lashes, “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Sanemi almost snorted at this. As though he wouldn’t be able to overpower you and push you off in an instant, you wouldn’t stand a chance—

“Oh, fuckin’ shit—” All conscious thoughts were ripped away from him the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock. Catching you by surprise as his hips jerked roughly, forcing more of his length inside your wet mouth as the heady tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat. The sudden motion caused you to gag as you pulled back to cough and splutter, and Sanemi felt downright depraved when he throbbed at the sight of you. Strings of spit mixed with his pre connected him to your mouth as he groaned, noticing the fat tears that now clumped in your lashes as he tried to remember to breathe, “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“It’s okay,” You brushed him off with a smile, your warm palms stroked softly against his hairy thighs as he tried to calm his body down, “I actually liked it.”

You liked it? Gods, you were certain to be the death of him.

You took him into your mouth again as he fought back the urge to cant his hips forward, growling when your tongue began to trace the bulging veins along his length. Hollowing your cheeks as you began to gently bob your head along him as the hand wrapped around his base began to massage his heavy balls.

It was no wonder Uzui always seemed particularly cheery if this was what he got to experience at home. Sanemi’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he clenched them shut, positive that one look at you with your lips wrapped around him would have him coming undone in an instant.

“You can hold my head, show me what you like.” You murmured against the tip of his cock as you pulled back for air before swallowing him again. Coaxing him to touch you, to move you how he’d like to be treated, and Sanmei wondered why he should even bother when this already felt like heaven.

The whiny, desperate whine that vibrated around his cock the moment he held the back of your head in a large palm was his answer. Your throat instantly tightened around him as he swallowed back another debauched moan, tightening his grip as he began to help you bob your head along his cock. Careful not to hurt you as he pushed you down so the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat with each downward motion, something that had him leaking even more pre as the salty taste dampened your tongue.

Sanemi could already feel his balls tightening in anticipation, your movements sending him closer to bliss as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.

There’s something about being the only person to see Shinazugawa Sanemi like this. A strong, powerful man who strikes fear into the hearts of many brought to his knees as you tower over him.

His cheeks blaze fiery red as the bloom spreads to the tips of his ears as you wrap his cock into a gentle fist, squeezing the base as he tries to stop his hips from canting forward pathetically. The noise that spills from his lips is more akin to an injured animal as he tries to stop himself from spilling his release so easily. But this is exactly what you do to him, the only person that can make him feel this way.

“Do something.” His tone is cold and brash, but there’s no real malice behind it as you have him as close to begging as you can.

Your fingers slip lower from his balls as you run your thumb along his taint, dipping into the sensitive skin as you have Sanemi’s hips bucking wildly as he catches you completely off guard as he cums with a depraved snarl. Hot, sticky ropes of cum spurt from his pulsing cock as you catch them in your mouth, coating your throat in his potent seed as his chest heaves from the intensity. His hand remains rough at the back of your head as he forgets his hold on you, keeping you pinned on his cock as he fills you with his release.

It’s only when you splutter that Sanemi realises his hold on you, pulling away as though he’s been burned as his lilac eyes stare down at you with worry. Watching you quiver as you cough and splutter again, as he sits up in an instant to cup your neck and assess if you’re okay.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” He rasps, his cock still half-hard and doused in your spit as it hangs between you. “I didn’t mean to— are you okay?”

And for the first time, it feels as though he’s let his walls down. The worry in his tone, paired with his wide eyes show you the concern that you hadn’t expected from the harsh Wind Pillar when he’d first entered the room, and yet here he was offering you more kindness and compassion than a lot of your previous visitors.

Your throat burns, but you answer him by parting your lips and lolling your tongue out so he can see that you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he’d given you. An action that already has his cock stirring for more attention as Sanemi bites back the harsh groan that threatens to rumble deep in his chest at the sight of you.

You really had no idea that you’d be the complete undoing of him, he supposed as he allowed his thumb to brush against your soft cheek. Smiling when you leaned into his touch, still settled between his thighs.

He decided at that moment he’d quite like to kiss you. Uncertain if that was even something people did in these establishments, whether you’d even allow him to. Wondering if you’d ever wanted to kiss any of the men you’d spent time with working here, whether you’d even want to kiss him. Remembering that this was probably nothing more than a job to you, another way to pay off your debts and get yourself out.

He’d get you out if he could. Spare you from all the disgusting, rowdy creeps that you have to deal with daily and protect you from the horrors of this world.

“Are you okay?” You tilted your head to the side as Sanemi was brought back from his thoughts.

“Weren’t you gonna show me how to please a woman?” He ignored your question as his chapped lips brushed against the curve of your jaw.

“Oh,” Your cheeks flushed with a delicate flourish as warmth bloomed across your skin, “Oh, yeah.”

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’d even be able to handle his touch on your skin. Your cunt already throbbing wanton and desperate with need as your slick began to soak your inner thighs, positive no one else had made you feel like this before.

Reaching out to wrap your smaller palm around his wrist as he allowed you to move it how you pleased, lifting it to move it to settle against one of your soft breasts.

“Oh,” You heaved a sigh as your fingers stayed wrapped around his wrist as Sanemi began to clench his fingers, barely a squeeze as though he was worried about hurting you as you coaxed him for more, “That feels good.”

The words seemed to encourage him as he began to massage the soft skin, calloused fingers grazing against your sensitive nipples that had you crying out for him. Pleased when he took the initiative to give your other breast the same attention, your cheeks flushed as he stared shamelessly at your exposed skin.

Reaching down you circled a hand around his thick wrist, raising his hand as you placed his calloused palm against your warm breast. Thick lashes fluttered on impact as you looked down at the way he encompassed it, fingers barely flexing as he noticed the way his hand circled it. You ground your hips against him, his semi-hard cock poking into the swell of your ass as you remained seated on his abdomen. The motion pressed you harder against his hand as he began to clench his fingers, squeezing the supple skin as a breathy whine escaped your lips.

Sanemi hadn’t seen many breasts, but he was certain that you were the prettiest by far. Gaining more confidence as he started to squeeze at the soft skin, his thumb grazing over one of your hardening nipples as it stiffened to a taut peak. Biting down on glossy lips you watched him focused and intent, giving the same attention to the other side as he began to palm them both.

Sanemi inhaled softly when your fingers began to busy themselves with the fastenings of his shirt, spreading what little was left to push it off his shoulders along with his haori. Your eyes trailed over each raised scar that marred his perfect skin, fingertips delicately brushing over each line of rough skin and puckered flesh. Giving the same amount of attention to each one, knowing that they all held their own story. Spending slightly longer on the long ones that crossed against the front of his chest, dangerously close to his heart as your palm stopped against his sternum to feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Sanemi had never found his scars repulsive, but for some reason beneath your gaze, he felt self-conscious. Worried that you may find him hideous and cower away from him like most others did. Others, whose opinions he didn’t care about, but yours?

“I know they appear ugly.”

“They’re not ugly,” You hum softly, “I’m just sorry you had to go through the pain to receive them.”

Some scars run deeper, ones that don’t mark and marr his skin. The ones that permeate through to his heart, twisting and contorting as they sear into him hotter than any flame. Demons that keep him awake at night as he’s forced to relive the moments he’s received them, times that he’s faced certain death— and perhaps he deserved it. The pain of receiving them was often forgotten by Sanemi. The hurt and damage from each scar would never equate to the feeling of seeing his loved ones slain, from losing his family.

“But each one tells a story,” You continued, smiling softly. Fingertips stroking over the raised scars there, following the damaged skin as you mapped out every curve and ridge. “Each one holds a reason as to why you’re still here.”

Sanemi had never had someone touch him like this before, he’d never been handled with such care. It was at that moment that Sanemi decided he didn’t want you with anyone else, that you were his and only his.

“We all have scars, but some we try to hide more than others.” You hummed.

Fuck it. He thought as he reached around your neck to pull you into a fierce kiss, catching you off guard. His teeth clashed against your soft lips as he fought to deepen in, inexperience shining through his actions as his nose bumped yours roughly. His movements were sloppy and unpractised as he was far too chaste; too eager. Your lips follow along with his to try and guide him, your tongue teasingly laps at the corner of his lips and he does little to stop you. Trying to anticipate your movements as his lips fall open, granting you entrance as you smile against him.

Your fingers splay against his jaw, holding him steady to help slow him down. Moving your lips with purpose as your tongue brushed past his parted ones, delving into his mouth as you swallowed the moans that vibrated at the back of Sanemi’s throat. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you felt his arms encircle you to pull you closer, tightening his grip on you as if no matter how close you were it would never be enough.

His still half-hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you shamelessly roll your hips, pressing your lower half against it for some sweet relief as your cunt virtually burned with neglect. You’d never felt so on edge as you were tempted to reach down and press two fingers to your puffy clit to give yourself some respite. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the perceptive Hashira who broke the kiss to stare between your bodies.

Sanemi’s fingers were warm as they brushed through your messy folds, hiding your face in his neck as you felt his knuckle graze your clit. A whiny, breathless sigh warmed his skin when he felt your tight hole begin to catch against the calloused pad of his finger.

How were you this fucking wet already and he’d barely touched you? Was this all for him?

“Please,” You murmured. Sanemi felt you roll your hips against his hand, as though you were trying to drop yourself down on his finger, eager for stimulation. Granting your wish as he slipped a solo finger inside you, baulking when he felt how warm, wet and tight you were.

Sanemi wasn’t foolish, he knew about sex. But he just had no idea that this is what you looked like down there, what you felt like. How was he supposed to fit his cock inside here when you were this tight? Surely he’d split you in two.

The moan that left your lips was debauched, and the sound surged directly to his cock. Swallowing thickly as he pressed forward again, letting the calloused pad of his finger press against your velvety walls. Trying to draw another noise like that from your throat.

Sanemi was gentle and precise compared to the other men that frequented the establishment, so used to your pleasure being unimportant as they were quick to push into you with little care or decency. Fulfilling their own needs and leaving you a crumpled, fragile mess after with comments on how thankful you should be that they were helping to pay off your debt. Glad that most men that you encountered seemed to only want comfort, a warm body to lay beside so they could fool themselves for a moment that they mattered to someone.

“Is this okay?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, his finger plunging into your tight sex as he grazed your ridged walls.

“Curl it,” You murmured, breaking off into a high-pitched gasp when he brushed against the sensitive spot inside you. Your reaction was an indication he’d found what he’d been searching for as he focused his movements against it. Deft and precise as Sanemi began to pump the lone finger in and out of you, lilac eyes focused on the way your face contorted in pleasure.

“Yeah?” He hummed in satisfaction, “You like that?”

Your cunt clenched around him in response, biting down on your bottom lip as you found yourself rolling your hips in tandem with him, moving one of your hands from his shoulders to slip between your bodies to join his as you pressed slow, precise circles against your needy clit.

“What are you doing?” His voice turned to a deep snarl, brows furrowed as he watched you touch yourself in front of him.

“Touching my clit.” You gasped as he knocked your hand away roughly, moving his thumb to press blindly against your slit to replace it.

“I’ll do it,” He growled, the authoritative lilt to his tone had you trembling as he made rough strokes in an attempt to find your sensitive nub, “There?”

He questioned as he rubbed the junction of your labia, pressing against your folds as you tried to lift your hips to position his hand.

“No,” You murmured, holding his wrist before moving your slender fingers towards his thumb to press the pad of it flat against your clit. Whining on contact as his touch felt instantly better than your own, “Here— can you feel it?”

“Yeah,” Sanemi released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in as he began to press tough, persistent circles against it while curling his finger inside you.

“Add another finger, please?” You begged, moving your hands back to his broad shoulders to support yourself as you continued to match his movements.

“Yeah?” He murmured, pressing both fingers against the spongy spot inside you as he began to thrust them languidly, tilting his head back to stop you from shying away from his gaze as he watched your face morph into pleasure, “You like that?”

“So good,” You affirmed, feeling the coil inside you start to wind and tighten as Sanemi focused on your pleasure. Certain your cunt was drooling into his open palm as he followed your movements, pressing deeper each time you tried to roll your hips, “I’m close.”

“Then cum.” His voice commanded, his tone curt and domineering as you found yourself succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to spill over. Your cunt clenched desperately around his digits as you came with a choked gargle of his name, white spots blanking your vision as your entire body convulsed. Sanemi’s other hand splayed flat at the arch of your back to stop you from toppling backwards as he continued to press messy circles into your throbbing clit, prolonging the sensation, “Good girl.” The words had you throbbing as he helped you ride out your bliss.

“I—” You panted, at a loss for words as your nails dug into the delicate skin on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons in their wake that Sanemi hoped would scar.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” Sanemi grunted, and you had to rip his hand away from your poor sex when the sensation became too much. Already feeling him forcing you towards another—

“You shouldn’t be so good at that, Shinazugawa-sama.” You groaned in satisfaction, pulling back as you noticed his cock practically leaking against his chest from the sight of you. Leaving silvery lines of pre against his skin as he sat hard and ready for you.

“What did I say to call me?” He rasped.

“Sanemi,” You breathed, and the Wind Pillar was certain he would never tire of hearing his name flow from your lips.

Was it normal to fall in love the first night with someone? With a courtesan no less. Sanemi wondered how many men had stepped through the doors of this house with the same question, returning to spend the night with a woman who was only interested in how deep their pockets were. But it somehow felt different with you— the look in your eyes made it feel like it was something more than just a transaction. And well, if it wasn’t Sanemi was positive he’d give every last penny he owned for one more night with you.

“It’s okay if you want to stop,” You smiled gently, hoping that he wouldn’t. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing as you yearned for him, wanting to feel him stretch you out in the most intoxicating way.

You were certain it was going to hurt judging from the sheer mass that was now resting between your thighs, thick and heady. Feeling the tip almost graze your belly button as you imagined just how deep he would be inside of you. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation as he began to stroke the fat tip of his cock between your messy folds. Feeling them part for him as he nudged against your sensitive clit, making you cry out for him as he repeated the motion.

“Why would I stop?” He bit back, “You’re getting paid aren’t you?”

He hated himself for the words that left his lips, the regret evident on his features the moment he’d uttered them. But it was what he did. Pushing people away before they got too close, before he let them in—

“I’m sorry,” He murmured apologetically, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” You cut him off with a small smile, used to hearing far worse as you smoothed a hand through the light hairs that scarred against his chest, “Are you ready?”

And Sanemi was certain he’d never been more prepared for anything in his life, his palms still planted firmly against your hips as he watched you reach down to wrap your palm around his drooling cock.

Holding it upright as you leaned forward to adjust yourself so the building tip was pressed against your right entrance. His fingers were no match for the stretch of the engorged tip as you slowly began to coax him inside. The first inch was painful, a delicious ache swirling in your abdomen as you tried to relax. Inhaling deeply as you gave an experimental roll of your hips, forcing another inch inside as you began to feel the stretch. The protruding veins that forked along his girth did nothing to ease the tension as you could practically feel them throb against your inner walls as you sank lower onto him.

Sanemi wasn’t fairing much better, his pupils blown as he was certain he could see every shade of colour. His grip against your hips bruising now as he tried to think of anything but the sensation of your cunt wrapped around him for the first time. He was barely halfway inside, and now he was positive he wouldn’t last by the time you made it to the base— his balls already drawn up and heavy as he imagined emptying his seed into your ripe cunt.

You were so fucking warm, and drenched. It was making it difficult to think as your slick left creamy rings around the girth of his cock, drooling down to his balls as you soaked his skin. Sanemi found himself becoming lightheaded, blindly pawing for your waist to centre himself. The back of his head knocked against the wooden floor as he readjusted his hips, giving you a few more inches as you moaned at the sensation. Catching yourself with soft palms against his chest as you rolled down into his touch, his stiff cock almost wholly inside you as you felt the messy hairs that sat at his base tickle your clit.

You still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. But it feels like a moment too long for Sanemi, a moment that drives him closer to the desperate release his body already craves. His hefty balls are already tight and pulsing as they threaten to spill into your eager hole.

It’s as though you notice when you start to roll your hips above him. But Sanemi reckons this is worse— your tits sway with your alluring movement, the cool air in the room hits his cock when you rise your hips to pull off him before seating yourself back down and he’s certain you’ll be the death of him. That Uzui will find the shattered remains of his body in this very room as he dies buried deep inside your molten cunt. How had he managed to continue life for so long without feeling this? It’s now the only pleasure he ever wants to indulge in as he watches you intently through blown eyes.

“Are you okay?” You hum with a teasing swirl of your hips and Sanemi has to wet his lips to reply. His tongue rolls over white teeth before clearing his throat, a heavy rumble in his chest as calloused fingers dip into the fat at your hips.

“‘m fine,” It’s all he can muster. Certain if he says more it’ll be over, and Sanemi doesn’t want this to be over, “Fuckin’ tight.”

“You feel so good,” You offer in return, “Stretching me so much—”

And Sanemi isn’t sure he even wants to hear it. Uncertain whether it’s because you have his cock pulsing from your sultry tone that leaves him shaking on the crux of his climax, or that he thinks you’re lying. Another deceitful line you give to all your paying customers.

“Shinazugawa-sama.” You breathe and Sanemi feels his Adam’s apple throb in his throat.

“Sanemi,” He growls, low and domineering, “I said call me Sanemi.”

“Sanemi.” You parrot, and the sound of it has his hips jerking sloppily as he fucks up into you, his name now sounded from your lips like a dull mantra, “Sanemi.”

Your hands are splayed across his chest as you try to keep your movements consistent, hips rolling against him as you ride his cock. Trying to commit the sight to memory as your eyes follow every line and scar that settles across his skin, soft fingertips following them as you ride him. An indication of just how powerful the man beneath you is, the man you’ve brought to his knees.

“Oh, fuck.” You sound out, and Sanemi thinks it’s cute the sound of such a vulgar word spilling from your sweet lips.

And Sanemi wants to make you make more sounds like that, to pull every one from your pretty throat and commit each one to memory. Remembering every saccharine lilt and coo as though he’s conducting his own debauched symphony. Sounds that will comfort him when he thinks of you, of this. He moves his hand from your hip, pressing a thumb against your pelvis before dipping lower. Stroking his digits through your messy slit, and when he touches your clit your body convulses. Hips bucking so wildly on contact his eyes are wide as though he’s done something wrong. Taking his hand to press his fingers back against it as you coax him into touching you there again.

Hunching over him as you try to keep your pace, your movements borderline pathetic as you chase the pleasure of his calloused thumb against your sensitive bud. His eyes watch you curiously as he speeds up the sloppy figure of eights he presses into it, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him in response.

“This is supposed to be for you.” You choke out, unused to your clients even thinking about your pleasure.

“Who says it’s not?” Sanemi scoffs; the sight of you like this is worth every damn penny Uzui is paying, “I want you to come undone for me.”

The dominant, commanding husk to his voice has your pelvis contorting as your body wills itself to unravel on command. Barely able to cry out his name as you find your release, your silky walls clamp down around his cock as they desperately try to milk him of his release. Your nails dig into muscular pectorals as you try to keep yourself upright, to hold onto the single thread of sanity you have left.

But Sanemi’s thumb doesn’t stop against your clit, following your jerky movements as your hips coil and spasm. Keeping his touch firm and persistent as he helps you ride out one climax to have you soaring towards another.

It’s too much, and you’re not sure you can handle it as your hands slip down to wrap around his wrist. Feebly trying to pull his grip away from your sloppy cunt as you watch the muscles in his arm tighten, veins popping out proudly as they fork towards his wrist. Practically snarling as he easily fights your weaker grip, “Don’t.”

And once again he throws you into ecstasy, your body trembling as another intense orgasm surges through your veins. Soaking his cock with your essence as you feel how wet and sloppy you are between your thighs, any friction dissipating as it’s all you can do but pathetically grind yourself against his finger while you ride out your bliss.

“Sanemi,” You whine, unable to hold yourself upright as you feel yourself falling forward onto his chest. Your face nuzzled into the junction of his neck as you trap his muscular arm between your bodies, his thumb still at your overstimulated clit as he gives it a few more lingering swipes, “S’too much.”

And Sanemi has to agree. It’s far too much, but also not enough at the same time. His cock throbs at the feeling of your drenched walls soaking him, fluttering in the aftershocks of your release as he’s certain he’s on the cusp of his own end. Slipping his arm from between your bodies in ease in favour of wrapping both arms around you, pinning you against his chest as he bends both his legs at the knee. Planting his feet on the hardwood floor for stability as he holds you against him.

He catches you by surprise as he begins to thrust up into you. His movements are chaotic and messy, with a deep-set sense of urgency as he chases his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixes with the syrupy wetness of your cunt that has your cheeks burning fiery red as you pant and whine against his neck. Mouthing at the thin layer of sweat that sticks to his skin, the salty taste of it mitigating on your tongue as you let him use you for his pleasure.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” Your voice sings out against the column of his throat and his hips give one more rugged jolt as he buries himself inside you to the hilt and coats your inner walls with balmy spurts of cum. The sensation causes heat to plume inside you as you indulge in the sensation as he gives a few more careless thrusts like he’s unable to stop his hips from jerking as he gives you everything he’s got left to give.

Sanemi’s eyes are blown wide, staring up at the ceiling as you move with the rise and fall of his chest. His arms still wound so tightly around you that you’re unable to move, left to bask in the warm afterglow as you cling to him. One of your hands braced against his sternum, feeling for the cadence of his racing heart.

“Are you okay?” You murmur softly when he hasn’t spoken for a while, and you’re met with a delicate kiss to your temple as he tightens his grip.

You’re certain you lay there for hours after, his warmth engulfing you as he traces gentle patterns against the expanse of your back while your fingers cord through his messy hair. Nails grazing against his skin while you feel the pleasure rumble deep in his chest, eyes heavy as sleep threatens to consume you. You shift above him slightly and whine pathetically as you feel his soft cock finally slip from your sloppy hole, the wetness unable to maintain a grip on him as you shudder at the cold air in the room cooling your molten cunt. His thick, potent seed begins to drip from your cunt into thick puddles on his pelvis and onto the floor as his arms tighten possessively around you for the smallest hint of a moment. As though he’d tricked himself into thinking that you were actually his, before realising his foolish mistake.

“I should go.” His voice rumbles, firm and authoritative. A sound that has you moving off him, despite your body’s plea to stay like this just a while longer.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Shinazugawa-sama.” You respond, watching as he begins to redress himself. Tucking his cock, still glazed with your drying slick, back into his pants.

You’d hoped he would correct you a final time. Telling you to call him by name as he buttoned the first few buttons of his shirt before tugging his haori back on, but the words don’t come.

You wonder whether it’s because he’s unsure what to say, lingering by the door as though he wants to turn back to give you a proper goodbye. Reaching down to grab your kimono to pull it back over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” He whispers before tugging at the door.

You were hoping it would feel a little less transactional, even though you were certain that this was all it was to him. A coldness now resides in the room that you’re certain you’d never felt before, an uncertain frost that bites away at the fierce burn of your heart. You have to remind yourself of the reason why you’re here, the reason why the Wind Hashira had chosen to lay with you.

The next morning you were surprised to find out just how much Sanemi had left behind that evening. Certain the payment was more than enough to settle your debts and free you from this existence, as you felt the fog of uncertainty that shrouded your time here begin to clear.

You’d hoped that he would’ve left some way to thank him, a forwarding address or at least a note to accompany the payment. But what you didn’t expect was for the Wind Pillar to be waiting at the dark purple curtains for you as you came down the stairs.

#sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa smut #kny x reader #kny smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut

[apdreadful]

Anyone saying that Tommy is just convenient, he’s just a stepping stone, or Buck is confused and projecting his feelings for Eddie onto Tommy. Denial is not a river in Africa.

Buck didn’t just roll out of bed one morning and decide “I am declaring myself to be bisexual! And starting today, I’m looking for a guy”

Buck has ALWAYS been bisexual. So the whole time we have known Evan Buckley, he has been attracted to men.

However, it’s very likely had never really sat with and processed what to do about that attraction prior to meeting Tommy. Never acted on it prior to Tommy. Never made it as obvious to anyone before Tommy.

In retrospect, the signs were definitely there, before Tommy.

The catalyst for the change? Is Tommy.

He made the conscious decision to go see Tommy when he had no damn reason to. He wasn’t thinking of leaving the 118, he just wanted a reason to see him again. I don’t think Buck actively processing “I want to date this man” he just wanted “something” and Tommy was part of that something. But he had no damn idea how to get his brain wrapped around what exactly he was planning to do with those feelings “Huh, this is more…what do I do now?” Hence the basketball game.

And I don’t know if it was before Tommy came over or if seeing Tommy standing there in his apartment made those pieces finally click into place for Buck.

(Personally I’m leaning toward that “Well not at the same time” response to teaching him Muay Thai. Because there was no mistaking THAT look that Tommy gave him)

Because if you have ever been into someone and are even the tiniest bit queer, you saw that dance for exactly what it was.

The subtle signs, the shifting in atmosphere, the carefully chosen words, way their bodies started mirroring each other as they moved closer.

Tommy having more experience with this dance, started getting the inkling this may be going SOMEWHERE...So he took that chance and dropped the “Well probably not at the same time”with THAT look. That look was a whole sentence.

Now Buck’s awakening bisexuality, understood that look. And those butterflies starting flying and he stepped right up and said “I have been trying to get your attention”

He decided THIS man. Right here. Is the one that I want enough- choose to just lay it all out for.

Now for any baby bi THAT is a big damn leap. Because you think you know..But you don’t have the experience to know if you’re reading the signs right.

Brass Tacks my lovelies is..

Buck wanted Tommy..he wasn’t entirely sure for what. But he knew it was Tommy specifically.

And if you think he’s projecting his feelings about Eddie onto Tommy. Go back and look at that first episode Eddie shows up at the 118 in.

Buck wanted to be in that firefighter calendar, and he saw Eddie as competition to getting that which he wanted. Eddie was his competition. Did he recognize that he was competition because he also looked hot af?

Yep.

So when Tommy catches Bucks interest, once again Buck finds himself in competition against Eddie for the thing he wants, which this time is Tommy’s attention. And because Eddie is his best friend, and he knows Eddie is awesome. In Bucks head, Eddie is worthy competition for Tommy’s attention. It doesn’t matter that Eddie isn’t interested in Tommy the same way Buck is.

If it were Eddie that Buck really wanted, why tf hadn’t he asked Eddie to teach him Muay Thai? They’ve been friends for years. Why had Buck not been interested in the basketball game prior to Tommy’s appearance??

Buck is bi. And it was the hot dish casserole that is Tommy Kinard that made all those little “huh” moments click into “well that’s makes sense” place.

So stop playing at being flat earthers.

#Tommy totally ignited that bi 🔥 in Buck. #like a big ol bonfire WHOOSH #and I don’t blame Buck one bit #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 spoilers #buck x tommy #evan x tommy #bucktommy

[megalony]

You'll See Him Soon

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by anon. I hope you will all like it, I wrote this one so quickly. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17 @zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: While (Y/n) pops by the station, her and Eddie both end up getting shot. And the team race to get them both to the hospital before they lose them.

Enjoy.

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

"So, lunch on Tuesday?"

A grin broke out on (Y/n)'s face and she turned to the right, looking over at her big sister with a smile.

"Yep. You know we'll have to invite Buck though, right?" (Y/n) laughed at the way Maddie rolled her eyes.

They had gone out today on a girl's day while Evan, Eddie and Chimney were all on shift. That was all well and good, but it made Evan feel left out. Whenever they went out together on a girl's day, they ended up going to the movies or going out for lunch another day with Evan. The three of them were a close-knit sibling unit and Evan seemed to think girl's day should also include him.

"Hm, I know." She cast a sly grin across at (Y/n) before she looked ahead and turned the next corner.

"You can just drop me at the station, you know. Eddie will be finished by now and he said he'd give me a lift home." They were only three minutes away from the station and it saved Maddie having to go past her flat to get to (Y/n) and Eddie's place.

It meant she could just drop (Y/n) here and make the short trip home and (Y/n) would go home with Eddie. As long as he wasn't currently out on a call but even if he was, (Y/n) would just wait at the station for him.

"Don't forget to ask Eddie and Buck about getting that night off next month."

(Y/n) groaned and pressed her temple against the window at the mere mention of what was going to happen next month. She could feel a headache forming behind her eyes at the thought.

"If they don't get it off, I'll be down at the station with them." (Y/n) could hear her sister laughing, but she wasn't joking. She was being serious. If neither of the boys got that night off, (Y/n) would be joining them and hanging out at the station for the night.

There was no way (Y/n) and Maddie could get through dinner with their parents without Eddie and Evan there with them. It wasn't often that they saw their parents nowadays and that was how the three siblings liked it.

But (Y/n) knew when she told them she was pregnant, they would want to come down and see them all. She had been surprised they hadn't come down sooner, but they were finally coming down for three days next week and (Y/n) was dreading it.

"At least they're happy this time… they're excited." Leaning across the console, Maddie rested her hand on (Y/n)'s leg and gave her a little shake to make her smile.

"Yeah, after they said I wasn't old or mature enough to be Chris's mum. Now this is 'their grandchild' they've changed their tune."

(Y/n) kept her head against the cold glass that felt soothing to her skin. She dared to glance her eyes down and her expression softened when she looked at her bump. Her fingers danced over her abdomen and she started drawing aimless patterns like Eddie had started to do recently. (Y/n) didn't realise how attached to her stomach Eddie would be until she finally started to show.

Not long before she and Eddie got married last year, her parents had tried telling her- in front of Eddie- that she wasn't mature enough to be a mother to Chris. And she had seen the conflict in their eyes when Chris called her mum. They didn't see how much it meant to (Y/n) that Chris thought of her as his mother.

Because she was the youngest sibling, they thought she was somehow incompetent at doing anything.

Only now it was different because (Y/n) was the first one out of the three of them to have a child. Her parents had changed their minds because they could see (Y/n) was the happiest she had ever been with Eddie and she was settling down. They were going to be grandparents and it sparked a small change in them.

Although (Y/n) knew if they dared say anything when they came down, Eddie would blow a fuse.

"So… have you thought of any names yet? I think-"

"We are not calling her Maddie." (Y/n) shook her head and shot a glare across at her sister who was just about to turn into the station car park.

"Why not?"

"Because it's your name. It's bad enough Buck's trying to hustle in and pitch Evelyn for a name. We're not naming her after anybody."

(Y/n) had seen Eddie's eyes light up when they went to their scan two weeks ago and found out they were having a girl. She knew he had been hoping for a girl and she could already tell their daughter would have Eddie wrapped around her little finger.

But the couple were starting to regret telling people because they were all coming up with names and ideas left, right and centre. Evan had been bummed they couldn't name the baby after him, until he realised Evelyn was close to his name and kept pestering Eddie to pick that name. And even though Maddie was joking, she had pitched Madeline to them a few times.

God knows there wasn't anyone on (Y/n)'s side of the family she would want to name her daughter after- except for her big sister. But (Y/n) couldn't handle two Maddie's and getting confused and having to come up with nicknames for each of them.

And she had asked Eddie if he had anyone on his side that he thought about naming their daughter after, but he wasn't keen on the idea. They wanted something original. A name no one else in their friendship circle had.

"Fine," Maddie huffed with a roll of her eyes as she parked up and whipped off her seatbelt. She turned to the left and looked over at (Y/n) with a tender smile before she danced her fingertips across (Y/n)'s stomach. And her smile brightened when (Y/n) moved her hand down so she could feel the baby wriggling. "Well what about Dolly, because she'll be as cute as a little doll."

"I'll think about it." (Y/n) would admit that it would be sweet to call her Doll or Dolly, especially if she was small and delicate. But knowing their luck, they would agree on that name and then either their daughter wouldn't suit the name when she was born or she wouldn't be a small baby.

She gave Maddie's hand a squeeze and grinned, but just as she took off her belt and looked to the left, a pair of hands slammed against the window.

(Y/n) screamed as Maddie gasped and reeled back in her seat with a frown when they both realised it was only Eddie.

He had a wolfish grin on his lips while he crouched down to look through the window. He seemed to make it his mission to give (Y/n) a fright recently and she was sure it was because he loved to make her scream and liven up the baby.

"Eddie!" (Y/n) hissed and slammed her hand down on the window before she moved her hand to her chest, trying to regain back her breath.

Her brows furrowed into a deep frown as Eddie opened the door and when he held his hand out for her, she batted it away and climbed out. "Don't do that! Do you want me to have a heart attack?"

She gave his shoulder a shove and tried to glare at him, but it was hard when he grinned down at her with such a wide smile that his cheeks and eyes creased. And when he leaned over and wormed his arms around her waist and reeled her into his chest, (Y/n) didn't have the effort to push him away.

"No, just keepin' you on your toes, baby."

His palms pressed flush against her back and he pulled her into him until their chests were touching and (Y/n) had to hold onto his shoulders to steady herself. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes on him when his lips attached to the side of her neck "Look what you've done," She muttered quietly, reaching behind her to hold Eddie's wrist and move his hand from her back until his palm was pressed into the side of her stomach.

"She's happy to see me." He grinned against her neck and bared his teeth, lightly grazing against her neck until (Y/n) gave his shoulders a squeeze and started to squirm in his arms.

He lifted his head up so he could kiss the side of (Y/n)'s temple and his arms curved back around her. Keeping her pinned into his chest and when she curled her arms around his neck to hug him, he started to sway them both from side to side. And Eddie turned his head to the left, grinning over at Maddie as she got out the car and leaned against the door with a grin and raised brows.

"Did you two have fun?"

"We went for lunch, then we saw a movie."

They hadn't made any plans today, they had decided to have a girls day but see what they felt like doing when they went out. Both of them had been hungry, so they tried a new restaurant for lunch and then decided to go to the movies. It had been a while since they had gone out together and seen a movie and it was something they used to do every weekend when (Y/n) was younger.

"Someone had to leave the screen twice for a drink refill. Little miss lemonade with lime cordial."

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and looked up at Eddie through her lashes when he scrunched his nose in distaste and gave her an odd look.

"You don't like lime juice." That wasn't something Eddie had ever known (Y/n) to drink and it was an odd combination. And it wasn't like (Y/n) to go and get a refill drink either, she barely drank enough during the day to keep her going so it was a nice surprise to hear she kept getting another drink.

"Hm, your daughter does," Maddie chirped with a wide grin before she looked down at her watch. "Right, I'd better love you and leave you, I'll see you both at the weekend for games night. Tell Buck I said hi."

When Maddie climbed back in the car and blew a few kisses their way, they stood back and waved her off.

"Is your shift over?" (Y/n) dragged her eyes up and down Eddie's frame, only just realising that he was still in his starched navy trousers and button up shirt. Her fingers dug down into his shoulders and she tilted back a little when Eddie leaned his chest against hers and stole a deep kiss from her lips.

"Hm, just gotta get changed, then we can go home." He could see that was music to (Y/n)'s ears.

Sitting down in a movie theatre was all well and good, but (Y/n) was starting to feel tired already and she hadn't done that much today. She wanted to go home, make tea and slump on the sofa with her boys.

"So, was the movie any good?" Eddie curved his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist to keep her tucked up into his side as they walked round to the front of the station. He stuffed his other hand into his pocket and pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head when she leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

"Yeah, but I missed the ending queuing for the toilet." In all honesty (Y/n) had missed a few crutial parts of the film when she went to go get another drink, twice. And then she had to hurry out twice for the toilet and the queue had been horrendous at the end. It was lucky she was only five months along with the baby or she wasn't sure she would of been able to wait as long as she did for the queue to go down.

She could feel Eddie laughing into her hair as both their steps came to a halt when they noticed Hen, Chimney and Evan all gathered in a little circle just outside the station doors.

"What kind of meeting is this?" (Y/n) quipped with a grin and she leaned over when Evan looped his arm around her shoulders and reeled her under his wing for a hug.

"Shift change-over. Me and your hubby are leaving, these two are staying for the next four hours." Hen hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and smiled triumphantly as if she had just won a game.

They were all out here because the trucks were being restocked and the ambulance was out on a call. It was quieter out here than inside where everyone was hustling and bustling to stock up and clatter and change over. And Hen was getting ready to leave whereas Chimney and Evan were taking a breather before they went back in for the rest of their shifts.

"So, how's Evelyn?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and unhooked her brother's arm from her shoulders before she crossed her arms over her chest. But she smiled when Eddie reached behind her to give Evan a light shove.

"I've told you, we're not naming her after you." He gave Evan a pointed look before he moved his hands to his hips and leaned his head to one side. It didn't matter how many times Evan tried or how much he pestered. Eddie's first daughter was not going to be named after his brother-in-law.

(Y/n) leaned into Eddie's left side, trying to hide her grin when Chimney started to laugh.

"Debatable." Evan remarked with narrowed eyes before he looked back down at his little sister. He wasn't giving up just yet; he could pester them for a lot longer to see if they would give in and go along with the name he had chosen. "So, how is she?"

"She's fine."

"So, are you two-"

Whatever Hen was about to say tapered off when a sharp, shrill noise cut through the air and shifted the atmosphere around them.

A gunshot.

Nobody knew where it came from. They didn't know who fired, where they were standing, what kind of shot it was that was directed at them. Or who the shot was aimed for.

Terror dug its claws into (Y/n)'s chest and ripped out her lungs when her head turned to the right.

It was Eddie. Eddie was the one who got shot. She didn't see the bullet hit him, but (Y/n) knew the moment he had been hurt; his left hand clawed into her back and made her wince. She knew by the way his fingertips punctured into her hip and how his hand fisted her flesh like he was trying to tear a chunk off that the pain hit him instantly.

She didn't see the shot, it happened far too quick to see the bullet fly through the air or see it hit her husband. But when Eddie's shirt around his right shoulder started to turn berry-red, it ignited (Y/n)'s heart until she was matching the pulse rate of a hummingbird.

Her hands grappled for Eddie, holding his back and scrunching her other hand up in his shirt over his chest to try and keep him upright, but she couldn't.

His name passed her lips like a whisper in the wind and when Eddie's lips parted, (Y/n) could hear the quiet breath he huffed.

There was no expression on his face, his eyes weren't in focus, they were dazed and staring ahead into the distance. His lips parted but he wasn't saying anything and he was barely breathing. It was like someone had refreshed his system and he was completely blank.

But he couldn't stay upright. It felt like hours had passed when barely a second ticked by from the bullet entering his shoulder to Eddie's body tilting backwards.

"Eddie-" (Y/n) curled her hands into fists around his shirt but she couldn't hold him up. He fell too swiftly and with too much weight for (Y/n) to try and keep him on his feet. Her body shuddered and she winced when his fingers stayed puncturing into her back where she knew she would have bruises later.

He crashed down on his back on the pavement, his head bouncing against the concrete slabs harsh enough that it should have cracked his head open.

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed on instinct when she started to fall with him but a scream burned at the back of her throat when it felt like the back of her right thigh had suddenly been torn apart or bitten by a rabid dog.

Her knees crashed into the floor and her hands shook against Eddie's chest as she landed with a crash so forceful it sent all the blood down to her legs and her head started to spin. Black and white spots danced in front of her eyes and she let her head bash down into Eddie's chest, gasping to try and keep herself awake and alert, but everything was on fire.

(Y/n) could feel every pounding beat her heart thrashed out. She could feel her heartbeat beneath every inch of her skin and her pulse throbbing in her ears. She felt like her head was going to explode. Bells were ringing in her ears along with her heartbeat. Hot coals surrounded her body that felt like it was melting and scorching hot.

Her knees were aching- her right thigh felt like it had been shredded to ribbons.

"Eddie… Eddie, baby," Words dripped past (Y/n)'s lips but she barely heard her own voice.

She tried to focus herself and move but everything began to shake. Her hands were trembling up and down like she was doing some odd kind of dance but she managed to cradle Eddie's face between her trembling palms. Her thumbs swiped across his face and she tried to tilt his head in her direction.

His eyes were still open but they weren't focusing properly, he was looking through (Y/n) rather than at her. But he was awake. (Y/n) needed him to stay awake.

It was only then that (Y/n) managed to get her ears into focus and she realised she could hear voices around them. She remembered it wasn't just her and Eddie in this situation. Her brother and their team were here too.

"Cap we've got a shooter!"

"Get inside-"

"Eddie's been hit!"

"Get inside- get them inside now."

Hands grappled with (Y/n)'s shoulders and a quiet "No," tumbled past her lips when she felt a chest pressing down into her back and whoever it was nudged her to the side.

She wasn't sure who was holding her back but she began to cry. She had to stay with Eddie. Why weren't they letting her hold Eddie? She had to make sure he was okay and somehow get him inside. (Y/n) had to stay with him; they couldn't try and tear them apart like this.

His name tore past (Y/n)'s lips again and her hands tried to latch around her brother's bicep when Evan crouched in between her and Eddie.

He was working on overdrive. Evan could barely move from the amount of adrenaline that was shooting through his system and it made him feel sick. His thighs burned from how he was crouched, balancing on the heel of his boots while his trembling arms grabbed his brother in law. He looped Eddie's arm around the back of his neck and dug his fingers into Eddie's good shoulder like tallons.

His left hand grabbed Eddie's hip and with some effort, Evan hoisted his brother up onto his shoulder.

"Go!" He all but roared, waving his arm out for Hen and Chimney to get inside with (Y/n). He needed his sister inside with them. She had been hurt too and Evan wasn't sure where she had been hit. He could see the blood soaking down both her legs and pooling on the floor and he dreaded to think where it was coming from.

His legs shook as he bolted through the open doors, trying to stay hunkered down low so he and Eddie were less of a target for anymore bullets. But he heard another gunshot ricochet against the shutters and it made Evan cower.

Why was someone shooting at them? What had they done? They were emergency responders, they saved lives, they didn't take them. There was no reason for someone to be taking revenge out on them.

Why had they shot Evan's family?

"Eddie-" (Y/n) felt a pair of hands on each of her arms and she let them lift her up but as soon as she was on her feet, she screamed.

A banshee howl left her lips and she coiled her right leg up off the floor. Standing on both feet felt like a knife was slicing down from her hip to her toes. Someone was cutting her in two. Someone had taken her husband away from her. She needed to get him back.

Her foot bent at an awkward angle beneath her and she tried to hop on her left foot, dragging her right leg behind her like it was a third, useless limb she didn't need. Her head flopped forward, gluing her eyes to the floor that was littered with tiny flecks of blood like someone had walked by eating strawberries.

Her hands dug into Chimney's arm and shoulder and if she had the energy, (Y/n) would have tried to tell him she could walk. She would of tried to hold herself up if she wasn't drowning in panic.

She barely felt Hen run past her to open the truck doors.

Hen climbed in the back of the truck. Bobby climbed in the driver's seat. Evan and Chimney dragged their family towards the truck. It was their only mode of transport to get out of here and make their way down to the hospital when the ambulance was already out on a call and was far too small to transport them all.

(Y/n) could hear Bobby shouting orders, but his voice sounded quiet and distant like he was shouting from the other side of a lake.

"Lockdown the station when we leave! Nobody in, nobody out!"

A groan rumbled through Eddie's chest and vibrated against the back of his throat when he felt himself suddenly being tilted backwards.

He could barely comprehend why he was suddenly being lifted up by Evan or where he was being taken. The view of the station was blurred. Everything looked like a watercolour painting but the paints were too runny and blending together. Eddie couldn't make sense of anything.

His lungs stuttered and clenched when he was hoisted off of Evan's shoulder and he was held up on his feet by someone behind him and Evan in front of him, gripping his wrists so tightly he was going to snap them.

Evan climbed up the steps, leaning backwards to keep Eddie's weight and keep him stood up. And when he was up, Evan carefully twisted Eddie to the left and laid him down over the seats. He could see the movement sent Eddie's whole body convulsing and he gasped for breath at the feeling of his shoulder coming into contact with the chairs.

"Okay come here; I gotcha." Spinning on his heels, Evan reached his hands down and held onto (Y/n)'s forearms while Chimney stood behind her. She was much easier to manouevre than Eddie, she was alert and responsive and somewhat helpful.

Her nails scratched into Evan's forearms and a choked sound rumbled past her lips when he pulled her up. When her foot caught on the top step, waves of electricity flowed through (Y/n)'s leg and spots danced in front of her eyes as her head fell forward into her brother's shoulder.

"Cap, go, go!" Hen bashed her fist on the roof before the truck came to life and they all jostled forward as Bobby shifted into gear.

(Y/n) thrashed her arms out until her hands planted down on the seats and she let her weight fall down until she was on her knees in the footwell. She stretched her right leg out behind her, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that felt like her whole leg was vibrating with her heartbeat.

It was as if her leg was hanging on by a thread that was about to snap. (Y/n) wished it would. If that thread tore, it might take away the pain. She just wanted it to stop so she could focus on Eddie. He was her priority.

Her chin pressed down on Eddie's good shoulder and her trembling hands clutched his shirt so tightly she popped the first three buttons open.

Her head was pounding. Her eyes couldn't see anything more than Eddie, blurs and stars twinkled all around him like he was an angel or a vision from Heaven. She leaned closer to him when Evan hovered beside her. Evan held onto the headrest to hold himself up while he leaned over Eddie's chest and pressed a large pack of gauze down on the bullet wound.

He winced when Eddie coughed and groaned and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Eddie's head lifted up when pressure pushed down on his shoulder and felt like a hand was physically breaking through the muscle to touch the most sensitive nerves around his bone.

The pressure set something off inside Eddie's body; an extra dose of adrenaline coursed through him and made him a little more alert.

"Are you hurt?" Eddie's voice was gruff as he grunted and managed to flop his head to the left to look over at (Y/n).

He blinked slowly and tried to prize his eyes open wide so he could look her up and down but his vision was going blurry. He was glad his good arm was closest to (Y/n). He flopped his arm off the chair and slumped his hand onto her arm so he could trail his tremoring fingertips over her body.

She had blood smears on her shirt, but he couldn't find an entry wound. She had blood on her face but he couldn't see any cuts. Her breaths were shallow and her body was trembling but Eddie didn't know where she had been hurt.

His fingertips moved down until his hand touched her abdomen and he kept his unfocused eyes on (Y/n) to watch any change in her expression. He moved his hand from left to right, becoming more frantic with each second when she didn't say anything and no one told him if she was hurt or not.

"S-she okay?" Eddie tipped his head back into the seat and coughed when Evan applied more pressure. He was going to bust his shoulder if he pressed down any more than this.

But he tried to look back at (Y/n) when he realised she was only clutching his shirt with one hand. He felt her other hand hold his wrist and press his hand down on her stomach to make him stop checking frantically.

"She's okay."

(Y/n) did her best to smile, despite the tears that were pouring down her face and each breath she took which hitched higher and higher than the last.

Her eyes stayed focused on Eddie, but when she felt Hen applying pressure to the wound on the back of her right leg, (Y/n) couldn't help but cry out. A scream cut past her lips and her eyes snapped closed as she smothered her face down against Eddie's shoulder to try and stay awake when it felt like she was going to pass out.

"Where's she hurt?" Evan took the words right out of Eddie's mouth while he leaned over to try and look his sister up and down. He had seen her fall and heard her cry out, but he didn't see a bullet hit her. Evan had to assume she was hit from the pain she was in and the way she was starting to deteriorate the same as Eddie.

"Right thigh, just above her knee. Someone give me their belt, I need to stop the bleeding."

Chimney leaned back on his heels and yanked his belt free from his trouser loops and handed it over. He moved his hands to (Y/n)'s shoulders and tried to comfort her and keep her still as he moved to press his fingers against her neck to check her pulse.

Another scream mixed with a tepid cry coursed through the air when the belt sank into (Y/n)'s leg like teeth chomping down on her flesh. She could feel her leg and her foot pulsing and throbbing and vibrating like she was a boombox screaming out a beat.

But when (Y/n) lifted her head from Eddie's shoulder, she could see his eyes rolling near the back of his head and his breaths started to pick up and become fast and shallow.

"Just hang in there, two minutes, okay? Stay with us, Eddie." Evan gave Eddie's neck a jostle and tilted his head from side to side to try and keep him conscious. He couldn't fall asleep on them, he had to stay awake and conscious until they got him to the hospital. Why couldn't he stay awake like (Y/n)? He needed to stay alert with them.

"You're gonna be okay, baby." (Y/n) couldn't keep her voice level and she hiccupped through her words as she tried to push closer into the chairs to be next to Eddie.

She swiped her eyes and nose against her sleeve but she could feel her head filling up with air like a balloon. She wanted to go to sleep. She wanted everything to stop. She wanted Eddie to wake up properly and be okay. (Y/n) wanted to rewind time and usher them all inside so nobody got hurt.

Why did it have to be Eddie?

Her hand moved to cup the side of his face and she swiped her thumb across his jaw while her other hand dragged through his hair, brushing the curls away from his eyes. She knew he loved it when she carded her fingers through his hair. Maybe this would keep him awake with her.

"We're here! Eddie, come on let's go. Don't you fall asleep on me."

Eddie's head tilted back and he choked, barely able to breathe when he found himself laid back over Evan's shoulder once again. His left hand tried to reach out, but Evan was moving too fast for Eddie to comprehend. He could taste (Y/n)'s name on his lips and feel the way his nerves tingled when he tried to say her name, but it didn't make a difference. He couldn't see her anymore.

Bobby pressed his hand to the back of Eddie's neck and helped Evan carefully lower him down onto the stretcher that was already waiting for them to arrive. Two nurses and a doctor smothered Eddie with an oxygen mask and a pulse monitor on his finger before they began to move him.

A frown pulled on Evan's lips when Eddie gripped his wrist weakly and gave a sharp tug. "What? What?"

Evan tried to move with him but they moved Eddie too fast and his grip wasn't strong enough to pull Evan along with them. But he heard that one word that spluttered past Eddie's lips.

"(Y/n)."

Leaning down, Hen curled her arms around (Y/n) and pulled her back when she tried to crawl forwards after Eddie. Shallow, gasping breaths left (Y/n)'s lips and her hands scratched against the metal floor as she tried to drag herself to the door.

"Eddie-"

"He's with a doctor, which is where we need to take you. He'll be okay, you're both gonna be okay." Chimney reached down for (Y/n)'s left arm and looped it around the back of his neck before he carefully stood up and the pair of them lifted (Y/n) up between them.

Each gasping, startling cry she let out made them wince and they could feel her shaking back and forth between them like she was hypothermic.

Chimney slowly climbed down the steps but he paused when Evan appeared in front of them like an omen. He held his arms out and reached up for (Y/n), taking her weight for her to help her down from the truck.

"We need another stretcher over here! Pregnant lady with a gunshot wound!"

Both (Y/n)'s hands moved to grip Evan's biceps and she tried tilting her head back to look up at him but it only made spots flash in front of her eyes. She could feel her knees buckling and giving in and she was sure she would be laid out on the floor at any given moment.

"Eddie… I w- wh- where's Eddie?"

"It's okay, you'll see him soon. Let's g-"

That was all she needed to hear. Those words acted as a switch in (Y/n)'s brain and everything started to shut down.

Panic sparked through Evan's body like a wildfire when (Y/n)'s head slumped onto his arm and her body went down. He deadlocked his arms around her waist and lifted her up, pinning her chest against his to stop her from hitting the floor while they waited for another stretcher to be rushed over to them.

Evan leaned down and looped his right arm beneath (Y/n)'s legs, cringing and gagging when he felt the blood instantly soak onto his skin and drip down between his fingers.

Oh God.

***

I'm not staying here.

With that thought in mind, (Y/n) tiredly looked around the room she was in and pursed her lips.

She didn't want to be here.

She didn't want to stay here on her own.

The only reason (Y/n) had managed to stay here last night was because she had been dosed up on morphine which knocked her off her senses. She had become coherent enough this morning to realise she was in the hospital.

She was in a small room on her own. Eddie wasn't here. He was somewhere on this floor, in this ward, but he wasn't here. (Y/n) couldn't sleep on her own. She couldn't stand being anywhere on her own and right now, she was alone at night. Evan and Maddie had visited her and stayed with her until the nurses told them they had to leave and come back in the morning.

None of the nurses listened when Maddie told them (Y/n) was liable to try and leave. They thought she was too hyped up on morphine to try and leave, but that was what she was going to do.

Everyone who had been to visit her today had told her Eddie was okay. He had recovered from surgery, his shoulder joint hadn't been hit by the sniper, it was just the muscle that got damaged. Eddie was awake and on the same pain meds as she was and (Y/n) knew Chris was safe at home. And Evan was staying at their house so Chris didn't have to leave the comfort of home so he would feel better without his parents there.

Her hands moved to her face and she brushed away the tears she had been shedding for the last half an hour. All (Y/n) had done since her siblings left was cry. She hated being alone. She couldn't sleep alone at night. The only reason she slept at home when Eddie was on a night shift was knowing that Chris was in the next room.

"I want Eddie."

If she didn't see him, she was going to go insane.

All (Y/n) could see when she closed her eyes was the image of Eddie on the floor with a mixture of their combined blood mingling together against the concrete. How would she know if he was truly okay if she didn't see him with her own eyes?

How did she know her friends and family weren't just lying to her to keep her calm?

Sitting herself up, (Y/n) looked down at the IV line capped into her left hand as she took deep breaths to stop herself from crying. With minimal effort, she paused the IV machine and twisted the cap until it disconnected from the needle in her wrist. She could easily reattach it whenever she decided to come back to this room later.

It took some effort for her to swing her legs over the side of the bed and (Y/n) grimaced at the hospital gown she was wearing.

Maddie promised to bring her and Eddie some of their own clothes tomorrow when she came down to visit them.

The moment her feet touched the floor, (Y/n) grimaced. The morphine didn't take all the pain away. Granted, it had done yesterday, but recovering from the anaesthetic probably helped numb everything else.

When she was up on her feet, (Y/n) stretched both arms out and hobbled over to the wall. She planted her hands down on the wall, lifted her right leg until her toes barely scraped the floor, and started to hop. It was a lot of effort and her stomach churned and twisted, but she had to persevere.

She had to find Eddie.

More tears stained her face as she quietly opened the door and hobbled out. It felt like she was a cripple with only one leg. Her right leg was practically useless in this state anyway and the nurses hadn't found her a walker or any crutches yet. They were supposed to be trying to get (Y/n) up and out of bed tomorrow, but she needed to move around now so she could find her husband.

(Y/n) crossed to the other side of the corridor so she was leaning on the wall on her right. Her shoulder and arm pinned into the wall as if she was about to slouch down to the floor and she hopped and shuffled along, trying not to make a sound so no one noticed. She could always say she was going to the bathroom if anyone asked.

Her eyes squinted in the dim light to read the names written in whiteboard marker outside each room.

She scanned along them and passed about five different rooms until her heart jumped into her throat and her eyes locked on a familiar name.

Diaz.

Here he was. She'd found him.

Her teeth sank down in her lower lip as she dragged her limp, useless leg behind her and crossed to the room opposite. She was relieved Eddie wasn't on a ward. It wouldn't do her any favours to be sneaking into the men's ward in the middle of the night when she didn't know who else would be in there.

She opened the door as quietly as she could and peeked her head round. (Y/n) wasn't sure what she thought she was going to see. Maybe she thought Eddie would somehow get visitors to stay through the night with him whereas she wouldn't. Or maybe she thought he wouldn't actually be in here, that this was a mistake and something had happened to him like she dreaded.

But when she hobbled over the threshold and looked ahead, her stomach started to flutter with adrenaline and she scratched her hand across her neck to remind herself to breathe.

There he was. He didn't look comfy. It wasn't like Eddie to sleep on his back, it wasn't something he did. When they were at home (Y/n) was used to him laying in funny positions with one leg hanging off the bed or she would wake in the morning to have him wrapped around her like a second blanket.

But here Eddie was, laid uncomfortably on his back with his right arm pinned to his chest in a sling. He had pushed the cover down so it barely covered his knees and he had his good arm flopped above his head on the pillow.

(Y/n) knew he was a light sleeper so she turned and shut the door with a little pressure to wake him rather than stand beside him and frighten him awake.

His head snapped forward within a second and he groaned, clicking his neck from left to right while his eyes adjusted to the dim light seeping in from the corridor.

"Baby?" Eddie's voice was gruff and deep. He lifted his arm from the pillow and dragged his hand across his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Before he moved to look at his left arm. He wasn't connected to an IV; they took him off it just before he went to sleep and said they would start him on another one in the morning.

He wasn't dosed on morphine anymore, conjuring up the image of his wife in front of him to make himself feel better. So why was she here? She should be back in her own room. Resting. Safe and sound until one of the nurses finally listened to Eddie's beligerent badgering about taking him down to see his wife.

"Baby… what are you doing?"

He pushed himself up so he was sitting up in bed, rubbing at his stiff neck before he squinted at her through his lashes. He watched her drag her fingers across her neck and over her chest; something he recognised as a nervous habit.

When she tried to step forward, she noted the way Eddie took a sharp breath. She could barely walk. She was limping and she had to reach out and grab the bed frame to hold herself up.

"I got lonely," (Y/n)'s voice was meek and timid but she tried to smile. She didn't want to be in that room on her own any longer. Why couldn't she be in the same room as Eddie? They were both patients with similar injuries. And they were both more liable to stay and listen to the doctor's orders if they were together and comfortable instead of separated and panicked.

She watched Eddie's eyes rake up and down her frame, but it was the way his lips pulled into a deep frown and his eyes narrowed on her that made (Y/n) shrink in on herself and wince.

"Jesus baby, you shouldn't be walking about! You could hurt yourself, you know that?"

"I can't sleep on my own." She tried to keep her tone light and force herself to smile, but Eddie's stern expression and his demanding voice made her stomach twist.

"You could tear your stitches or burst a blood vessel if you're not careful. Baby you can't-"

"I'm scared."

A tremor rattled through Eddie's chest and caused a sharp pain to strike his heart when he realised (Y/n)'s eyes were watering. He could feel his lungs shrivelling up in his chest and his shoulders sagged, despite the pain it caused.

She didn't want to be on her own. Not when being apart from Eddie meant she had nightmares that he didn't get here in time. She had to see him, touch him, be with him to convince herself that he was okay. Being on her own left her mind free to torment her. To see Eddie drop down in a pool of blood. To feel her leg ache and pound like it was going to fall off. To have her hands cradling her stomach, fretting that she was going to lose their baby.

It was too scary to be alone. (Y/n) wanted company; she wanted Eddie.

(Y/n) was torn between wanting to run forward and wanting to leave if Eddie was going to be mad with her. But her watering eyes widened when Eddie threw the cover to one side and waved his good hand towards her.

"Get in here."

As soon as she was within reach, Eddie curled his good arm around (Y/n)'s waist and helped her ease down onto the bed. He laid down and pulled her with him, suddenly feeling his own sense of peace when they laid down together. This was why he couldn't settle early in the morning when the drugs wore off. This was why Eddie felt uncomfortable all day and got irritable when any visitor walked through the door. They weren't (Y/n). He wasn't whole without her.

He turned his head to the left and smothered his nose and lips against the top of her head, breathing in her scent like it was the most addictive drug in the hospital.

He felt her head snuggle down into his chest and she bound her arm around his torso, clinging to him like someone was suddenly going to walk in and tear her out of his arms. He wouldn't let them. He wouldn't let anyone take her away from him; especially not if she was frightened.

"Do you feel okay? All I got off Buck was 'she's fine, she's fine' and that didn't really wash well with me."

They had run Eddie through what had happened and told him where (Y/n) had been shot because he remembered she was hurt, but he didn't remember where. It was a relief to know the bullet went in her leg. Any higher and it could have hit a vital organ. Any higher and it would have hit the baby.

But no one would tell Eddie much because at first he wasn't lucid enough and then he tried to leave the room when he wasn't allowed. He was promised he could see her tomorrow, but holding her tonight was so much better.

"Just achy… my thigh stings a bit, but it's okay. How about you?" (Y/n) tilted her head up and nuzzled her face into Eddie's neck so she could be closer to him.

Her lips attached to his neck and she pressed a tender kiss there just beneath the stubble that was starting to grow in.

"It's familiar, being used to it helps. And it didn't hit the bone, thank God." It was strange to think that he was used to the feeling of being shot. Eddie didn't think it was a feeling he would ever have to have again after he left the army.

But having some experience with this feeling definitely helped. He knew how to avoid the pain and how to push through it, and he thanked God that his shoulder joint had been missed. He couldn't be dealing with more operations or physio and time off work to try and patch it back together. And he had to recover so he could hold his baby girl without a struggle when she arrived.

With that thought in mind, Eddie carefully slid his hand over from (Y/n)'s hip until his fingers grazed along her stomach. His touch was light and delicate at first, but when (Y/n) didn't wince or groan or pull away, he pressed his palm down over her gown so he could cup her stomach.

"How's she doing?"

"Her heartbeat settled down this afternoon after the shock wore off… I haven't lost any fluid, and she keeps kicking me. They think she's gonna be fine."

Maddie had made her smile when she said (Y/n) was now special. Rather than bi-weekly checks, for the past two days (Y/n) had been getting almost hourly checks on the baby. When her heartbeat evened out this afternoon, they made a note of it.

Since the placenta and baby were still in place and her vitals were fine and (Y/n) hadn't lost any fluid, they were confident the baby was going to be just fine. But (Y/n) could still have checks throughout the day until she left, and she would be on close monitoring when she was discharged.

"Good, you had me worried."

"Me? What about you, you scared me Eddie. I thought- I thought…" (Y/n) knew exactly what she thought, but she didn't have the willpower to voice it.

She didn't want to say it outloud. It was hard enough to admit to herself that she thought Eddie wasn't going to make it to the hospital. The thought of having to go through life without Eddie wasn't something (Y/n) could contemplate.

She couldn't bring up Chris on her own. She couldn't go through labour and have this baby without him. (Y/n) couldn't do any of that without Eddie by her side.

Her lips rolled together tightly to stop herself from crying and she smothered her face in the side of his neck when his arm tightened around her waist. She could feel his fingers feathering up and down her stomach and he tilted his head to the side so he could kiss the top of her head.

"It's gonna take more than a bullet to take me away from you."

#eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley #pregnant! reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #bobby nash #maddie buckley

[nadvs]

both sinners (part three) (end)

pairing drugdealer! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug use

summary as a stripper, you’re well aware that someone you know could walk into the club at any moment. when rafe is your newest customer, you’re actually glad to see a familiar face.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You stagger backwards, hitting the table behind you, as you watch what’s happening in front of you in disbelief.

Rafe is crazed, punching the man who touched you over and over and over again.

“What now, bitch?” he shouts over the music. “Try and touch her now!”

One of the bouncers comes rushing towards the booth and holds Rafe back. It’s a struggle, with Rafe overpowering him and getting one more punch in, before a second bouncer helps to constrain him.

You watch them push him away. Rafe looks to meet your eyes, his chest heaving and his mouth ajar, as he gets pushed out of the club.

You blink in incredulity, unsure of what to do, until you finally go backstage into the dressing room to regain your composure.

You’ve never seen someone so angry over something someone else did to you.

You know what happens to guys that get thrown out. Rafe won’t be let back in for at least the night. It’s possible he doesn’t get let in ever again.

You pull your phone out of your locker and text him: i’m off at 11. we can meet somewhere?

You go back out onto the stage, looking for another customer to make your money and try to shake off what just happened, at least for the rest of your shift.

After work, you meet Rafe at the address he texted you after he was kicked out. He booked a room at a five-star hotel.

“You know, you didn’t have to start swinging,” you tell him when he meets you in the lobby, a coy smile on your face. “We have bouncers for that.”

“They’re obviously doing a great fucking job,” he snips sarcastically. “He grabbed you twice.”

“And I slapped him twice,” you reply. He shakes his head in irritation, taking your hand to lead you to the elevators. Thinking about watching you get touched like that makes the anger swirl in him all over again.

“Not hard enough.”

“So protective,” you tease.

Rafe pushes the top button. You smirk. Of course he got the penthouse suite.

“You realize if they remember what you look like, they might never let you back in, right?” you say as the elevator doors close, leaving you completely alone in the enclosed space.

“Strip at another club, then,” he rasps, leaning down and dragging his hand off of yours to squeeze your ass.

“You think it’s that easy?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“What place wouldn’t want you?” Rafe asks, gripping harder as he pulls you against him, his lips an inch away from yours.

The way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s utterly obsessed with you. It’s addictive.

The elevator doors open and he slaps your ass to usher you out.

The suite he booked is massive, covered in marble surfaces and gold decor. Rafe leads you through the foyer to the bedroom, where the city lights glimmer behind floor-to-ceiling windows. The place is exquisite.

“Couldn’t you have found something nicer, baby?” you joke, turning to look at him.

He scoffs a chuckle as he closes the distance, hands already up your skirt. He’s been turned on since you stepped on stage hours ago, imagining how hard he’s going to fuck you.

Rafe kneads your ass before roughly pulling the skirt up to your waist. He thinks back to the way the sheer fabric of the dress you wore on stage hugged your body under the club’s lights.

“You know what?” he says.

“What?” Your breath hitches as his hand presses up against your middle.

“I’m gonna buy you more of those slutty little outfits.” His voice is low. “So while you’re dancing up there, you think about who bought you what you’re wearing and who fucks you.”

By the way his cock is hardening against you and the way his breath is spreading on your skin in shallow pants, you can tell he gets off on spoiling you.

You lick your lips and tilt your head, nudging your nose against his.

“I’m the only one fucking you, right?” he mutters, his fingers pressing harder. You love how frequently he likes confirming it.

“Why would I need anyone else?” you reply, loving how you can rile him up.

When his fingers spread your lips apart, you exhale shakily.

“Only I can play with this pussy, yeah?” He rubs over your wetness and finds your clit, making your knees weak.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Yes.”

“You gonna dance for me, baby?” Rafe rasps. “I’ll give you more tonight than your customers make in a year.”

You nod, words escaping you. You feel him unzip your skirt, the fabric dropping around your feet. You pull your top over your head, left in just a bra and panties, and his eyes take you in as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you.

“Damn,” he huffs. It’s unbelievable how much you turn him on. The fact that you know how sexy you are, dancing every night for men who you don’t let touch you. Only he can touch you. “How are you real?”

You giggle, regaining some composure.

“Sit down,” you say, looking at the big bed.

“Over there,” Rafe tells you, pulling you to follow him. He takes you to the bathroom, where you spot a baggie of coke beside the jacuzzi.

Once you strip down between hard, wet kisses, you sink into the hot, bubbling water. You straddle him and he gazes at you through heavy lids.

“You want a bump?” Rafe asks, tilting his head towards the coke. He already took a hit before you arrived.

You nod, craving the feeling of elation the coke gives you. He grips your waist with one hand while he reaches for the baggie with the other.

After he makes a line on the edge of the tub for you, you lean over and inhale the powder, giving him an opportunity to palm your tits.

He loves the way your skin glistens from the water as you settle back on his lap. Your head is swimming with euphoria as you kiss him, his fingers rubbing over your nipples. You start to writhe, rolling your hips and giving him a lap dance.

You dip your hand under the water’s surface, gripping his firm length, prompting him to angle his head back with a groan over the sound of the tub’s jets, his voice echoing through the room.

You can’t wait any longer. You perch up to slowly sink onto him, his tip dipping into your entrance.

“Fuck,” Rafe huffs. Your hands are on his shoulders as you take your time, breathing through the pressure of his cock stretching you.

“Good girl,” he groans. “You can take it all. I know you can.”

You bite your lip as you finally reach his base, dizzy from how deep he hits you, enveloped by hot water.

You start to rock on him and his mouth locks around the peak of your breast. He loves the feeling of pure sin while he fucks you, both of you high and rolling.

You rake his hair back, leaning so your chest presses against his forehead as you start to bounce on him, panting in his ear.

Rafe’s hands curve around your ass as you roll on top of him, the water splashing as you quicken your pace. You start moaning and he squeezes you harder, his face contorting in pleasure.

You moan in his ear as you come to a fast orgasm, clenching around him in flutters. He hardens inside of you soon after, cumming in rhythmic throbs.

“Goddamn,” he groans, thinking back to all the parties he noticed you at. “I can’t believe this is what I was missing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know you were this much fun.”

You giggle and the sight of your smile makes him smile back.

“Now you know,” you say with a shrug.

You’re absolutely spent when you lie on the plush bed, body bare and wet, not bothering to cover up with a towel. Rafe loves the sight of you like this and he leans down, smoothing over your cheek with his hand as he kisses you.

“We’re getting room service,” he murmurs. “What do you want?”

“The most expensive thing on the menu,” you joke. He’s unfazed, pacing to the phone surely to order exactly that.

“Wait,” you laugh. “Let me see the menu.”

Half-naked and high, you and Rafe sit on top of the bed, the television on in the background, eating at midnight.

It must be the coke and the sex and the delicious five-star food, but you get the impulse to ask what you’ve been wondering all night.

“We both know you’re the only guy I’m seeing,” you say, “but am I the only girl?”

“Obviously,” he says simply.

“It’s not so obvious,” you say with a laugh.

“Now it is,” Rafe says. You appreciate his direct approach.

“Why do you deal?” you ask. Seeing his house just once would tell anyone he comes from a wealthy family. He doesn’t exactly need to be selling drugs.

Blue eyes meet yours and he smirks.

“Why, you wanna go into business?” he quips.

“I think I make enough dating you,” you respond with a laugh. Rafe likes how exclusive it sounds. Dating. Meaning you’re his only.

“I like making my own money,” he says honestly. “And I like having coke around when I want it.”

“You’re a no bullshit type of guy.” Rafe appreciates the compliment.

“Why do you strip?” he asks.

“Why, you wanna go into business?” you echo.

“Shut the fuck up,” he laughs, nudging you. You decide you’ve eaten enough, letting the gentle push shift you to lie on your back again.

“You’re hot. You’d do great as a stripper,” you tease, raising your arms above your head and sighing. He takes in the vision of you lying like this, relaxed and joking around with him, and he realizes he hasn’t felt this happy in a while.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rafe says.

“It’s great money,” you reply. “Especially if you have a rich drug dealer obsessed with you. It’s funny because you’re the only customer I’d dance for for free.”

He laughs again and you look over at him, sitting up shirtless, and smile. It feels like something out of a movie. A drug dealer and his stripper girlfriend laughing together in an extravagant hotel room.

Rafe moves the paper containers off the bed and sinks between your legs, laying his head on your chest.

You run your hands over his firm, warm shoulders and sigh at the sensation he gives you. He seems to live for the next 24 hours only, and so do you, and this is why this works so well.

He gives you a wad of cash before you part ways.

Your next shift is a few nights after your time in the hotel and Rafe is relieved the bouncers don’t recognize him. He settles in a cushioned chair in the dark club, knowing if they denied him entry, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and it would get ugly.

His heart skips when you walk out in stage wearing a black lacy set he bought you. You drift around the pole like a goddess, slowly undressing, making him hard in seconds.

Rafe looks away when you approach a man sitting in a booth. He might break someone’s jaw if he watches you dance on them, especially if they touch you.

He knows your interest in these guys isn’t genuine, remembering how you told him he’s the only one you’d dance for for free. This will just be a shitty part of dating you, and compared to the good parts, he can take this.

A few minutes later, you walk over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say over the throbbing music. “Thought I should tell you that guy just asked for a private room. Don’t freak out.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens as he takes a pull of his drink. You notice his irritation immediately, leaning over to speak into his ear.

“This is just work,” you say. “I can’t wait to clock out so we can fuck like we did in that hotel room.” His lips quirk up in a smile.

“I’ll break his hands if he tries anything,” he warns. You believe him.

After your shift, you and Rafe head to a party at one of the mansions sitting on the north side of the island.

But instead of leading you to the front door, he pulls you to the dark, empty shoreline, and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s turned on.

“On the beach?” you say, amused.

“You said we’d fuck, didn’t you?”

When you find a place on the sand, the night sky nearly starless, the waves crashing, you pull each other’s bottoms off with fervor.

Rafe’s on top of you, breaths shallow as he nips at your shoulder, guiding himself into you with a hunger deep inside him. It seems the more he has you, the more desperate he gets.

“I was hard all fucking night watching you dance,” he mutters, sinking into you, inch by inch.

“Fuck,” you whisper, tilting your hips, sinking into the sand. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Who else can do this to you?”

“Nobody,” you answer. “I’m all yours, baby.”

“Yeah, you fucking are,” he says, pulling back and thrusting into you. His hand grips around your neck as he pounds you, claiming you with every slam.

You mean it. You’re his, happily.

After you make your way up to the house party, Rafe pulls you onto his lap the second he finds a seat on the massive balcony facing the darkened beach where you just fucked.

A man comes by asking for a gram and Rafe pulls out his bagged coke, trading it for bills. After the deal, he places a few twenties in your pocket, kissing the side of your neck.

You still feel the sand on your skin as he skims your leg with rough fingertips.

Maybe you’d be ashamed doing this with another man, being paid for sex and getting spoiled and doing drugs and fucking every chance you get.

But with Rafe, the sin is so sweet that it doesn’t feel wrong at all. You’ll happily live in the next 24 hours with him, over and over and over again.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader

I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!

Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere

He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.

Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.

He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?

You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.

"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?

Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.

Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.

"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."

The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."

You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.

"You're never getting away from me, love."

#yes I'm advertising the movie again because it's a CLASSIC #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere killer #yandere delinquent #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #doodle #my art #yandere art #tig

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hi! I am so grateful you came across my feed! You also have an incredibly extensive prompt list which is amazing btw. Could I please get a 104 and 75 with Azriel?? I have been wanting to see how they would do with a fairy, considering they are like the opposite of a bat. They’re light and airy, gorgeous wings. Illyrian wings are gorgeous too but in a dark way and I think the contrast is cool without having to make them an angel. Ya know? Thank you if you end up doing it!

Thank you so much and thank you for the request! My prompt list is left over from an event I did when I hit 100 followers and I just kept adding to it. I love the idea of the difference in their wings. Because the books have already explored a few different types of wings and I think fairy wings are absolutely gorgeous.

The reader is half High Fae, half fairy.

Hope you like it! <3

Warning: Unwelcome touching (not by Azriel), Smut (18+), protective Az!!!!

WC: ~1.7k

Divider by @cafekitsune

My  wings had always been something I was immensely proud of, sure they weren’t the stark white feathered covered ones from Day or the gorgeous bat-like wings from the Illyrains but you loved them. Translucent but pink iridescent, the membrane golden in color. Compared to my stature, short by fae standards, they easily were half of my height. 

When I moved from the Spring Court to Night, I remember feeling slightly self-conscious about them. Before the mating bond had snapped, Azriel had spent many nights reassuring me how beautiful he thought they were. How they made me special. I would sniffle into his neck, “But they let everyone know I’m only half High Fae.” He would hold my head in his hands and try not to laugh at the absurd concern. “So is Rhys, so is Cassian. Most High Fae are. That’s not a bad thing.” Light kisses were pressed to my face, “If anything it makes you more special. Something no other High Fae has.” His words calmed my raging mind. Once the mating bond had snapped, he really began to worship them. He was the first person I had let touch them. The both of us learned they truly were as sensitive as his own. It became something he could tease me with, only in the privacy of our bedroom. One touch and I would melt into his touch. 

Now, I stood in the middle of the throne room at Hewn City. Dress in midnight blue, the same exact shade as my mates siphons. The floor length gown is skin tight and the velvet was smooth under my fingers as I tried to smooth it out. 

I fidgeted slightly out of nerves. I had refused the first time Rhys offered to glamour them away, they were too much a part of who I was for me to hide them even in this vile place. But I still felt very exposed around this many unfamiliar faces.

Azriel had stepped away to join the conversation Rhys was currently having with Keir. Placing a small kiss on my temple as he walked away, “Have fun, sweetheart.” I instantly started looking for Mor, desperate for some semblance of comfort.   

I found her on the dance floor. I gave her a low bow, hand extended which she returned with a perfect curtsey. I took her hand and we began to weave through the other couples as we waltzed around the ballroom, her head thrown back with laughter. 

A pair of hands on my hips swept me out of her grasp. I let out a startled cry, expecting to be met with my favorite pair of hazel eyes. The male that had grabbed me was certainly not Azriel nor anyone I noticed. I could smell the faerie wine on his breath as he spoke in my ear, “What pretty wings.” I thanked him, my voice getting stuck like gum in my throat. I tried to pull the unknown male's hands off of my hips, even to just push them up to my waist but he just dug his hands in tighter. I yelped at the pressure and he just gave me a cocky smirk. 

“I know how sensitive Illyrian wings are, and given the shadowslingers scent all over you, I bet you do too,” He laughed at my shocked expression, “I wonder if these are just as sensitive.” By this time, we had stopped dancing. I stood frozen, bile turned my stomach as he reached a grimy hand up to stroke the edge of my wings. His rough touch made me chirp in pain, he had pitched the fragile membrane between his nails and dragged them down. 

He went to repeat the motion again when I felt the heat of him disappear entirely. When I looked around for him, I saw large black wings in front of my face. The male that had been touching me was pinned to the dance floor. Azriel’s heavy boots, holding him there by his neck. The male was desperately clutching at his leg, trying to pull him off. Azriel scoffed.

“Doesn’t feel so good to have someone touch you when you don’t want them to?” He pressed down a little harder, the muscles twitching in his leg. 

“Now, if you ever think about touching my mate, or anyone else, without their expressed interest,” His hand went to rest on truth-teller’s hilt. “You will find yourself without hands.” He lifted his leg off the male's neck and didn’t spare him a glance as he grabbed my hand and started leading me out of the ballroom. 

People jumped out of our way and I didn’t even think of saying anything to him as I felt his fury down the bond. Not at me, never at me. But for not being there to stop the hands I could still feel on my wings. He pulled us into a room, no, a closet, and I could almost make out the shape of him from the light that snuck along the frame. 

“Did he hurt you?” He asked sternly. Fae Lights flickered on, giving the room a soft glow. I shook my head and he let out a heavy exhale. He placed his forehead against mine and we just stood there as both of our breathing evened out

“Az, you didn’t have to do all of that.” I finally spoke blushing, the dim lights of the room doing nothing to protect me from his gaze.

“You don’t understand, I will do anything to protect you.” The solemnity of those words made my heart lurch and heat pool in my stomach. 

“I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on.” His laugh echoed in his chest. 

“Look at my dirty girl,” He started kissing down my neck, “Does seeing me defend you turn you on?” I whimpered when his tongue started following his kisses. 

“I don’t know, you’re the one that dragged me into a literal closet.” He growled lightly. 

“Be nice, sweet girl.” Chiding me, I felt desire and defiance flood my veins. 

“Bite me.”

 “With pleasure.” He all but purred in my ear and he was on me. His lips captured mine. Teeth captured my lower lip when I moaned into his mouth. His tongue explored my mouth, brushing against the roof of my mouth and my legs turned into jelly. He hiked my leg up to rest on his waist, using the hand on my back to stabilize me. Trailing up my leg with his free hand. 

“Fuck” He groaned when he reached the center of my thighs. Blood flowed to my cheeks. I was soaked. He didn’t waste anymore time before he slipped my panties to the side. I cried out as deft fingers found my clit and started rubbing tight, fast circles. 

My hands started to trail down to reach for his waistband but his shadows pinned my arms to my side. 

“Let me make you feel good, my love.” I moaned at his words. My moans instantly broke into a scream as I felt two of his fingers plunge into me. He curled against the rough spot and I panted out his name.  

“Az…Please, I need more.” I begged him. He just started to kiss my neck again, sucking what I knew would be angry bruises. His kisses started to trail lower, his shadows once again helping him as they slid the top of my dress down to expose my breasts. My hands went to his hair as he wrapped his lips around my nipple. Sucking the perfect amount of pressure, mixed with his fingers pistoning in and out of me. I felt myself fall apart under him. My climax racked through me hard, I sagged against his hand still on my back. 

“There you go. Good girl.” He praised me. I expected his hand to pull away but he kept working me through waves of pleasure. I whined, “Too much. Az.” I panted out the words, chest quickly rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. 

“Can you give me one more?” His kisses started trailing lower and he unwrapped my leg from his waist. I was going to say something but it got lost on my tongue as he started to sink to his knees. He began to trail kisses up my leg as he went to throw my foot over his shoulder. 

He placed one of my hands on his head, my fingers instantly grabbing his soft locks. 

“Hold on princess.” Was the only warning I received before he dove in between my legs. I mewled at the pressure his lips sucked around my clit, still sensitive from my last orgasm. Broken versions of his name left my mouth and I tried to stop my hips from bucking. He used his free hand to guide my hips, letting me ride his face. It didn’t take long for him to have me at the edge. My eyes squeezed shut, white spotting the black behind my eyelids as he gave my clit a soft nip. That was enough to have my orgasm crashing over me. This time, my knees did buckle out from under me but Azriel’s hands were there instantly to hold me up. 

I blinked up at him. He was the picture of male satisfaction as he took in my glassy eyes. I once again went to reach for his pants but he pushed my hands away with a chuckle. 

“Later. I promise.” He said when I pouted at him. “Two isn’t enough for you, sweet girl?” I shook my head and he really laughed at that. He stood back up and smoothed out the lines in his suit. He helped me adjust my dress back into place. My hair was a lost cause, as well as my smudged makeup. He pressed a bruising kiss to my lips and when he pulled away he whispered in my ear

“Now we’re going to go back out there, covered in your scent and maybe that will remind people just exactly who they’re messing with from now on.”

#acomaf #acosf #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger smut #azriel spymaster #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #requested #protective azriel