mydear-corinthian

[mydear-corinthian]

Plié, Jeté, Relevé (Ballet Master!Cillian Murphy x Ballerina!reader)

A/N: Here you go my lovelies! I have literally never done ballet in my entire life, so any knowledge of this has come from watching tiktoks of ballerinas, movies with ballerinas in them, or my best guesses… anywaysssss, I hope you enjoy it! 

Also, would highly recommend watching the performance of Still Life at the Penguin Cafe on youtube, the music and the dancing is *chefs kiss* 

Summary: You were ready to admit that you hadn’t been at your best the past week or so, but surely you hadn’t been so bad as to deserve this much wrath from Mister Murphy… 

Word count:  3,750 

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, mean!Cillian, SMUT, dub-con bc of the power imbalance (?), fingering (technically?), humiliation (not as a kink tho), only reader orgasms, depiction of toxic teaching environment, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

If anyone out there believed in the stereotype that all Irish people were happy and jovial then they clearly hadn’t met your ballet master. The man may speak with a lilting musical accent but there was not a thing jovial or happy about him. The master was harsh, verging on cruel. If anyone was caught slacking even the littlest bit, something that would go unnoticed by the rest of the troupe, his voice would crack like a whip through the studio. 

Recently, that whip had been directed at you. You knew you weren’t doing your best. You had hit a rough patch in your entire life. You had been late more times than ever before, more times than you ever would usually be, more times than you would like. And your dancing had been affected as well. Your posture wasn’t straight enough, your pliés weren’t deep enough, your toes not pointed enough. Everything was going wrong, and while you had hoped it wasn’t noticeable, Mr Murphy never failed to find every SINGLE one of your mistakes. 

Today differed in no way. You had dilly-dallied a little too long while getting ready in the morning, only to end up running late for rehearsal. It was no more than five minutes, but from the start of training it was the rule that all ballerinas must be lined up by the barre at exactly ten o’clock every day. For every minute you were late, the worse your punishment got. Usually if someone hit the five minute mark, they went home and sprained their ankle on purpose for an excuse. 

At four minutes, you had run into the hallway outside the studio and thrown your bag onto the ground, disregarding the sound of your water bottle rolling away and one of your keychains cracking under the weight of your things. At five, you were throwing the door open and running inside, slipping into the back of the line and getting into first position. 

Mr Murphy paused in his speech to gaze at you. You stared straight ahead, refusing to look directly at him. Slowly, his eyebrow rose, scrutinising you with a frown that made shame curl in your stomach and tears make themselves known behind your eyes. He slowly brought his hands together, rubbing them as he sighed and began shaking his head. 

“Kind of you to join us,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he made his way closer to you, stepping leisurely, dragging out the fear that made your throat hurt. He stood a few feet away, staring at you in that impenetrable way of his, ice eyes sharp and painful wherever they gazed. He clapped his hands once. “Girls, turn and look at Ms. Y/L/N.” He waited until each of them had turned in their spots, some craning their heads to the side to make sure they were looking at you lest they somehow disobey him. You could see the pity, the sympathy, the smug triumph in each of the girls’ eyes, the frowns and subtle smirks, and you could do nothing other than keep staring ahead of you as your hands and knees suddenly began to tremble. “What is wrong with her?” 

He didn’t ask it in a rude or incredulous way, but as if you were a diagram in a textbook, and this was simply an exercise the students were completing. You were sure your shame was visible on your face, the embarrassment turning your spine to liquid. One of the girls put her hand up, near the front of the room, and you only recognised her for the little kiss-ass she was once she spoke. She had always been that way, desperate for Mr Murphy. Always at the front of the line, always gleeful at the downfall of others, always ready to point out any mistakes. And you were always happy to watch her desperation help her in no way whatsoever. A lot could be said about Mr Murphy, but favouritism was not something he had ever displayed. Whichever ballerina was doing well, recognisably well, was given her dues, and it was left at that. 

“She’s not wearing her tights and leotard, or at least, she’s wearing sweatpants over them. Her pointe shoes are dirty, and her hair isn’t in a bun.” You could almost imagine her satisfied little smirk when she finished speaking, that evil little smile that you had always wanted to punch off her face. One swing, you thought, just one swing… 

“Correct,” he simply responded, threading his fingers through each other and raising his eyebrow at you again, as if confused and annoyed at you for not doing something. “Leave, get your shit together, and then come back inside. If you have not returned within ten minutes, don’t bother returning to rehearsal ever again.” He nudged his chin in the direction of the door and you nodded obediently, eyes downcast as you stood up straight and slowly walked back out. 

When the door was closed behind you once more, you stood silently for a minute, eyes clenched shut and hands curled into fists at your sides. You pressed out a scream behind your pursed lips, teeth clenched so hard your jaw began to hurt. You slammed the heel of your hand against the side of your head again and again and again until your shoulder hurt a little from the motion and your brain felt sufficiently jumbled. Your chest was heaving and you were overwhelmed with rage. You wanted to kick something, to throw something, to go back in there and rip that bitch’s hair out of her bun. You resolved to pulling your pointe shoes off and lobbing them across the hallway as hard as you could, letting out another clenched scream before walking all the way down to pick them up and bring them back. 

You stood in front of your bag and took three deep breaths. You picked up your water bottle from where it had rolled between another two of the ballerinas’ bags, and took huge gulps of water until you felt a little less sweaty with anger. You checked the time on your phone to make sure you hadn’t wasted your ten minutes, then set about carefully pulling off your joggers, folding them up, and placing them inside your duffel. You pulled out a new pair of pointe shoes, cursing yourself for not having prepared them in time and preemptively wincing at the blisters you knew you were going to get by the end of rehearsal. You walked down to the bathroom at the end of the hall in the pointe shoes, hoping to at least break them in a little bit with the short time you had, and used the mirror to quickly pull your hair into a bun, securing it with pins in a practised dance you had learned from years of repetition. You checked yourself once more in the mirror and then looked down at your phone before sprinting full on back to the room and sliding through the doors. You made it just in time. 

Mr Murphy glanced at you as you slipped into position at the back of the line, following the exercises he had been calling out to the ballerinas while you had been out. He methodically looked at every inch of your body, from your pointe shoes to your pink tights and black leotard, from the careful set of your bun to the determined set of your brow and sheen of sweat on your temples. He didn’t say anything directly to you, and you took it as a win. 

At the halfway point, you were all allowed a little break to drink water and have a rest before you switched from exercises to rehearsals for your next performance. You were all practising for your various roles in a performance of ‘Still Life at the Penguin Cafe’, and though you would have to wear a huge mask of a ram on your head, you were ecstatic for the performance. While it wasn’t technically a solo, you were the centre of the piece, being the only one not dressed as a penguin. Now, everything felt so precarious. You couldn’t quite be sure Mr Murphy wouldn’t take the role from you after the past two weeks spent in a slump, and the worry was becoming your ever-present companion. 

Just as the girls were all leaving the room to get water and lounge around on the floor of the hallway, Mr Murphy cleared his throat and snapped his fingers at you. 

“Ms. Y/L/N,” and he pointed at the spot right in front of him. It took everything within you not to sprint to the spot. You took careful, measured, steps and stopped a few feet in front of him, spine straight and head held high. You weren’t sure where to look. You could never meet his eyes, something in your soul was opposed to it, so you chose a spot on the wall just next to his head. 

“You will stay for another hour at the end of the session to make up for your failures this morning, understood?” He raised both his eyebrows, hands on his hips. You closed your eyes, trying not to burst into tears like a child throwing a tantrum on the spot. You nodded, whispered a ‘yes, sir’ in a clogged voice, and waited until he dismissed you to walk out of the room. 

You sat down by your bag with a sigh, arms slung over your knees as you cradled the water bottle close and pressed your face to it. You closed your eyes and allowed your head to dip down as some of your friends came to sit around you, offering pats of sympathy and words of comfort. You tried to smile, nodded in thanks, but you just wanted to curl up into a ball and never get back up. 

The next few hours were spent going through each section of the dance. You felt lucky that you didn’t get to the Ram piece, you were sure you couldn’t hold it together long enough for that, only to be doused with cold water at the thought that you needed to stay longer afterward. 

When rehearsal was over, Mr Murphy dismissed everyone right on the dot. He didn’t acknowledge you as the girls started leaving, the chatter slowly beginning to rise as they reached the door. For a moment you wondered if you could get away with leaving with everyone else, but just as you reached the door he called out “ten minutes at most, Ms Y/L/N, then I want you back in here.” Your bones seemed to disappear and you thought you would collapse to the floor in a heap of mushy flesh. Instead you nodded and wobbled your way outside to chug what was left of your water bottle, refill it, then chug the contents again as tears of exhaustion slipped from the corners of your eyes and mingled with the sweat dampening the hair by your temples and ears. 

The ten minutes were up far too quickly and you stood with a groan, heading to the door once more. You gazed at the room from the door, the light hardwood floors, the wall of mirrors and the bar spanning the length of the room, the huge windows letting in swaths of natural light. You often forgot how beautiful the space was. 

You walked slowly to where Mr Murphy stood, typing something on his phone and moving the speaker to face the room again. You stood before him, hands clasped and eyes downcast, waiting for instructions. For a while, he didn’t say anything. He was no longer on his phone, his hands hanging by his sides, and he stared at you. Every few seconds you glanced, trying to glimpse what was going to happen, but he just continued watching you, stoic as ever. 

You could never tell what he was thinking. Never once had you been able to guess at his thought process, to figure out what was going on in his head. Maybe that was one of the reasons he intimidated you so much. 

He walked closer, so close the toes of his shoes almost touched the toes of yours and you gulped, staring at the contrast, the black and the pink, the background of wood. His hand came up and he tapped up under your chin with the side of his index finger, waiting for you to lift your head. When you did, your entire face felt hot under the skin. He was so close, you could see the freckles splashed on his skin, the careful set of his cheekbones and jaw. You gulped. His eyes were so much more terrifying up close. 

“You’ve been given a gift,” he began, slow and firm, “your ability, your natural rhythm, that is a gift. Unless you put in effort to finetune this gift, it goes to waste. Do you understand what I’m saying?” You nodded but he shook his head once. “Speak.” 

“Yes sir,” you breathed out quickly, gulping when your mouth was closed again. 

“I’m not sure you do, though,” and it felt like the hammer falling. His eyes seemed to harden a little, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “The past two weeks all I have seen is a sloppy, unprincipled, uncommitted dancer who deems merely showing up a success.” Each word was a stab to some part of you, and it took everything not to wilt completely to the floor. “You have been given one of the more difficult roles in the performance, and I once believed you deserved it. For the life of me, I cannot remember why.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you closed your eyes, throat bobbing as the despair that felt inevitable finally began to land. 

He went silent, and that felt worse somehow. The backs of your eyelids began to burn and you clenched your hands tighter around each other, hoping the little pain it brought would distract from the tears. You berated yourself in your head. You yelled in your mind that this was a pathetic display, that it would be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done if you began to cry in front of him. He would think less of you, it would only confirm what he believed; you were weak. When you opened your eyes again, one traitorous tear slipped out and down your cheek. You could feel the hot, ticklish track it made down the skin. If you didn’t know better, you thought you saw Mr Murphy’s eyes soften. 

He breathed out, long and tired, and reached up to gently wipe the tear away with his thumb. Your breath caught in your throat. His hand was warm. Your chest felt tight. His skin was soft. You stared into his eyes. He left the side of his hand against your face, as if allowing himself to feel the skin. Something in your stomach writhed impatiently. Everything seemed to have changed within a second. Some deep seated urge whispered in your ear to open your mouth and lick his thumb. You shivered. 

“Turn around,” his voice was low, rough, and you almost moaned at the sound. You gulped again, but obeyed almost instantly. You heard some shuffling, and then the music started, the slow long notes interspersed with the quick little strums, a beautiful, almost joyful piece of music. Then Mr Murphy was pressed right against your back, and suddenly the music was secondary. His chest, firm, solid, was moulded to your back. You could feel the soft fabric of his black shirt, the puffs of his breaths against the back of your neck. Your entire body shivered. He was warm, like a heater on a middle setting, and if you weren’t so tense, you would melt against him. You could feel his nose against your head as he bent slightly. You could feel his lips graze the shell of your ear as he whispered “relax.” You tried, forcing your muscles to loosen like you would before a performance. 

His hands trailed down your arms, his fingertips running down your biceps, then your forearms until you shivered against him again. When he reached your wrists, he hooked his own hands under them and began raising them in time with the music. You turned your head to the right, watched his hand raise your own, your lips parted and breaths heavy. You couldn’t move past the feeling of him pressed to your back. 

You almost missed the cue to move, almost, and pulled away from him slowly, carefully, using the measured steps required by the music. You left your right hand in his, just the barest touch of your fingertips against his, the illusion of contact as you moved to the left, feet lifting high. His eyes seemed to pierce through you, and suddenly you enjoyed the feeling in a sick, scary way. You walked forward until you were in line with Mr Murphy, still an arm’s length away before he stepped forward and your arms moved to a waltz position. He settled into the space, gripping your hands firmly in his. He was pressed as close as he could be, closer than your actual partner would be for the dance, and you set your eyes on his face. Your pulse thrummed in your ears, you were in your element. 

You went through all the steps of the dance like you had been born knowing it. Your bodies were like water as they moved, smooth, graceful. You hadn’t felt this intune to the music in a long time, hadn’t felt this much like a dancer in a long time. You could almost see the crowd in front of you, the blinding lights, the smooth fabric of the dress. 

At the final step, Mr Murphy gripped your hand and spun you into him, changing the ending of the dance. You gasped as you leaned back into his chest. His head was bent down, pressing his face into your hair. You were panting, torso moving up and down quickly but trapped in the confines of his arms crossed over you. You leaned your head back a little, pressing the curve of your skull into the curve of his neck as he pressed his cheek to the side of your head. The music was fading out, and the only sounds in the room were your mingling breaths, heaving into the air of the room. 

His left palm pressed against your stomach, firm and insistent, but you couldn’t be bothered to look down. It seared into your already boiling skin and you closed your eyes. You tuned into the sensation of his hand slowly sliding down, bit by bit, inching down over your stomach then pressing against your pelvis. You gasped as you felt his fingertips brush over the leotard just at the top of your pussy. Your hand moved behind you, gripping his sides, clenching into the soft fabric of his shirt. 

He didn’t say anything, just breathed heavily against the side of your head, and you didn’t stop him. His hand moved farther down, pressing against the softness atop your core. Gently, his index finger moved to the centre line and began pressing in. You lifted up on your toes a little when you felt the pressure through the fabric, the indent of his finger pressing against your clit. You were hot and wet, he could feel the heat emanating from your core against his hand.

He kept his finger pressed there until you became restless, impatient, pressing your hands a little harder against his ribs. Slowly, keeping the pressure, he moved his finger down until he was pressing against your hole. The warm tendrils of pleasure slowly undulated up your insides. He repeated the motion, up then down and pressing a little harder against your hole. 

You breathed out heavily, shakily, and bent your knees to press a little harder into the feeling. 

Up, down, press. Up, down, press. He circled your clit through the fabric, pressing against the pulsing little bud. Up, down, press, drag up, drag down, press. You were panting into the air, face contorted, mouth up and head tilted up, resting against his shoulder. Your eyes were screwed shut, hips moving to chase the motions. He didn’t say anything, just breathed heavily against your ear, held you tighter against his body. 

You were both standing in the middle of the large studio, bathed in the early evening light. Your hands clenched a little harder against his sides. The warm tendrils were lasting longer, becoming more frenzied, curling up into your stomach and making your hole flutter. His right hand moved up and cupped your breast, gripping firmly and burning the heat of his hand into the flesh. 

You were engulfed by him, wrapped up in both his arms as he pressed his fingers harder and quicker against the seam of your core, moving up and down, pressing and releasing. He ran the edge of his thumbnail against the fabric over your nipple and your pelvis shook. You writhed in his arms at the spark it shot to your core, at the electric pulse it created and ultimately pushed you over the precipice. A moan, a high-pitched whine shot from your mouth, echoing in the room. You pressed yourself so hard against him he almost lost his balance, moving one foot back to keep the two of you upright. Your hands hurt from how stiff they became clenched into the fabric of his shirt. 

Slowly, he released the pressure against your core. He grazed his finger up until he could press his hand to your stomach again. He left it there and the two of you heaved breaths in sync. You began to flutter your eyes open, still lost in the blood rushing through your head. His right hand came up and gripped your chin, pushing it so you faced to the left where his head had dropped down. He leaned back a little, you tilted forward a smidge, your eyes met. Your lips were still parted, his mirrored. Then he surged forward, pressing his mouth to yours, his nose sliding into the crease between your cheek and nose. He tasted warm and minty. His lips were plush and cushiony soft. He pulled away and you looked into his eyes again. 

Neither of you said a word.

Taglist: @4ria790

[mydear-corinthian]

one more night

synopsis: the relationship was too toxic but you just cannot break up with him because..

pairing: thomas shelby x reader

warnings: SMUT +18, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f!receiving), breeding kink, squirting, creampie toxic relationship, mentions of arguments & cheating

notes: based by maroon 5's song: "one more night", divider by cafekitsune

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

Your relationship with Thomas Shelby is indeed toxic. He often arrives home late. Even if you were only seated next to him, you flirted with women in the pub. Not even during the day was he there spending time with you. The both of you cannot end a day without an argument. "War" is the fitting word to describe your relationship.

You were starting to decide whether to end the relationship, but the question is, how?

The man gave you a big house for your family, food to eat, money, expensive clothing and jewelry, everything but affection.

The only affection you both had was sex.

Sex with Tommy was the best experience that you had. He has more experience than you, but that doesn't matter since he knows how to satisfy you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. He was home— needy, like always.

"Got a fucking long day. I need you," he whispered, locking the door immediately and grabbing your waist to kiss you.

You can never—ever— say no to having sex with this man. He was fucking brilliant.

You kissed him back, tasting the whiskey on his tongue as your tongues danced with each other. Tommy began to undress his suit, unbuttoning it one by one in a hurry, not even breaking the kiss.

He carried you and placed you on the sofa in front of your shared bed. Your hands lifted your shirt, exposing your hardened breast.

No, you've got to stop this. All he does to you is sex and nothing more. You're not his wife anymore; you're his sex toy.

"No— Tom, stop," you whined, feeling his hot breath on your neck as he marked it.

"Why? You don't want this?" Tommy asked, continuing to kiss your neck.

"Yes— no! I want to break up."

His lips are no longer on your neck. His eyes finally met yours.

"Break up?"

"All we do is sex and nothing more— I mean, we're married. We have things to do aside from sex."

"You're funny," that's all Tommy said before kissing you once again. You try to break the kiss, but your body tells you to want more. His rough palms cupped your breast and sucked it like a madman, making you moan out loud.

Tommy's fingers traced your stomach until your soaking wet cunt. You gasped at his touch as you felt his finger massage your clothed clit.

"No— stop, Tom. We can't do this any— oh God!"

"Your body tells you otherwise, sweetheart," Tommy chuckled. He removed your white underwear and tossed it on the floor. Feeling the cold breeze touch your exposed cunt, you arched your back.

"You're telling me to stop but your tight cunt keeps on clenching on my finger."

Tommy continued to pump his finger in and out of your drenched hole while eating you out. His tongue swayed figure eights on your sensitive bud, enjoying your taste. Tommy added another finger, fingering you aggressively, hitting that spongy spot again and again and again.

The wet noise made you feel embarrassed— guilty. Your eyes fully shut, grabbing a fistful of his curly hair to pull him even more closer to your cunt. Your head rolled back in pleasure,

Feeling that familiar knot on your stomach, you moaned like a whore, clenching on his mouth. "I'm so close, Tom."

"Don't stop, please— mmf!"

"Go on. Be a good girl and cum on my face, sweetheart. You're doing so well." he praised and continued to devour you.

Finally coiling up that feeling, you arched your back and moaned. You squirted, a mix of your juice and your white cum staining his mouth and face.

Out of all the men who had sex with, Thomas Shelby is the only man who made you fucking squirt.

"Fuck, baby— you always taste so good," Tommy said before standing up, ready to leave.

"Wait!"

His head turned, a smirk planted on his face.

"What is it?"

"I want.. more," you embarrassingly admitted. You bit your bottom lip, showing him your drenched hole. "Please, Tom."

"I thought you want to end this," he asked sarcastically.

"Just.. one more night," you begged.

Tommy walked towards you again, removing his boxers, freeing out his hardened cock. You bit again your lips at the sight. He really is big.

He pumped his shaft for awhile before positioning himself in front of your hole and take you whole. The feeling of his fat cock enter your tight whole made you wince. Tommy's arms embraced your shoulder as he started to move inside you. You rolled your head as soon as the pain started to become pleasuring.

"We've fucked a lot of times but you're still so tight."

Tommy's pace fastened. Your breasts swayed up and down at every harsh thrusts he makes. Your moans and groans filled the entire room. You felt his balls slap below your whole, letting out skin slapping noises which makes you even more turned on.

"Tom— oh God— yes, yes yes!" you moaned, interlocking your legs together on his lips, allowing himself to sink and pound it further.

Make it stop, you thought.

But it your body says to continue.

Tommy's tip hit the sensitive spots all over and over again, allowing you to moan even more loudly and clenched all over his fat cock.

"I thought you don't want this anymore, huh?" he teasingly asked, listening to the pornographic moans that you're letting out.

"We shouldn't be doing this anym— aah!" you tried to speak but the pleasure won't allow you to even complete your sentence.

Tommy knew you were close with the way your pussy was clenching on his dick too much. His middle finger found its way to your clit, rubbing it aggressively as he wants you to cum.

"Tom, stop— I'm gonna—shit— cum.. oh God, oh God!"

Tommy's erratic thrusts finally made you cum. His shaft still pumping inside your walls covered with your cum, allowing himself to finish.

"No matter how—Christ—rough I go, you're still tight, woman," he groaned as continued his pace while his head was resting on your shoulder. Your nails scratched his back as you felt overstimulated, cumming again.

After a few more pound, Tommy came, pouring all of him inside you, not wasting a single cum. He pulled out slowly, your shared juices slipping out of your drenched hole. There, the guilt panged you. Your mind said stop but your body said yes.

"Give me one more night, just like you said."

——

The morning the next day hits you the hardest. The first thing you saw beside you was no one. Tommy's side of the bed was cold and empty now. He left again. 

"One more night, (y/n)," you muttered to yourself.

And now the cycle continues.

[mydear-corinthian]

hello, hoes... turns out, i cant continue the kinktober shit because im busy as fuck

[mydear-corinthian]

POOR UNFORTUNATE SOUL

KINKTOBER DAY 9 - LITTLE MERMAID AU WITH MATTHEW JOY

Pairing.| Matthew Joy x fem!reader

Summary.| You’re fascinated by the human world and fall in love with a sailor from afar. When you save him, you’re desperate to be united with him. A sea witch offerings a proposition too good for your fairytale ending. If only you listened to how cruel the human world could be.

Warnings.| Noncon, dubcon, outdoor sex, groping, fingering, p in v, Matthew isn’t a nice guy, naive reader.

Word count.| 3.5k

Notes.| Today was meant to be another story but I didn’t finish it in time HAHAH

The human world fascinated you. Most importantly, a particular human in general. It was a feeling you’d never experienced before, a sensation your friends would tell tales of during your childhood, love.

On a lonely night, you spotted the bottom of the ship. The mixture of curiosity and adrenaline fueled your blood yet again and you swam up towards the surface. With your head poked out of the water, the sounds of humans celebrating their successions echoed through your eardrums. In complete awe, you watched them laugh and sway to their sounds of music.

However, a certain human caught your attention. He sat on the edge of the ship, his legs dangling above you as he drank his rum alone. He admired the moonlight and inhaled deeply. The lights illuminated his face hidden behind his shaggy brunette hair, he was gorgeous. You felt almost compelled to call out to him, just to look into his eyes. But before you fell into that temptation, someone shouted “Matthew lad! Come over here!” and he quickly finished his drink and disappeared from your sight.

Matthew. That name sounded so dreamy, so fitting, so desiring. You found yourself following the ship for days, cautiously capturing a glimpse of him every now and again. His voice sounded just as graceful. A deep accent of masculinity and husky. The clothing he wore made him look so handsome, you enjoyed the cream shirts that covered his chest.

But one night, the thunderstorm brewed in the sky like a pot of stew over a fire pit. The rain poured in every direction, the gusts of wind could throw you meters in a different direction. The sky cracked, flashing white as you shot out of the water. You stared up to the ship, swaying over the waves. The shouts and demands of humans were drowned out by the vicious rain and piercing winds. You followed after the ship, watching fearfully as you observed the men try to keep a hold of the ship.

You gasped out as you saw him tumble over the edge, smacking arms first into the water. You shot down into the water after him. He sank so gracefully, his body folded in as the depths of the ocean tried to consume him. You swam up rapidly, your arms latched onto his upper body as you inclined up the surface. There was no point in trying to capture the humans attention, you needed to get Matthew safely to shore, away from the sea.

So you swam in the same direction of the ship. It was a struggle to keep his head up from the water. You whimpered and mumbled to yourself, fearing the worst if you didn’t make it quick enough. You were considered a faster swimmer than most mermaids, but you had no idea how far land was, if land was even nearby yet. But the lights in the distance gave you hope.

As you swam him to shore and wriggled yourself up as far as safely possible on the shore, he laid unconscious underneath you. The storm remained deep in the sea, only a light shower impacted the land. The beach was empty, the sun crept up from the horizon.

You couldn’t help but to admire him up close, your hand rested over his chest as he laid still, your head tilted at the thudding motion in his torso. Matthew had these small scars over his cheek and upper lip. For some reason you found yourself singing to him, a common siren melody as you caressed his chest. His eyes fluttered open, he murmured out gibberish before coughing out the sea water.

You panicked, eyes shooting down to your tail as he spat out as much salt water as possible. As you tried to scoot down to the water, his arms latched onto your upper body. Still mumbling gibberish, his weak blue eyes tried to jump start his consciousness. It would have been easy to slap off his hold, his strength was that weak, but you found your logic drained by him.

After a few heavy blinks, his rough hand cupped your face, he smiled weakly at you. Instantly, he pressed his lips against yours, yours instinctively opened. Both of your lips danced with each other, the corners of your lips widened as his tongue swam into your mouth. Suddenly, he slumped back onto the shore, you hand pressed against his chest, still rising and falling. As you caught your breath, you saw the shining light grow closer, shouts of men echo through the sky, you retreated back into the sea before they could reach you.

The days turned tortuous, you often stalked the island in hopes of seeing him, but never did. The ship he voyeured on was at the docks, so you prayed that they found him and would take him home. You needed to find him, you needed to make sure he was okay.

The anxiety and dread pooled inside of you, what if he passed away shortly after. Every hour you relived the memory of your kiss, it was a firework show of passion.

Days later, you watched the ship depart back into the sea. You followed it for hours, getting every chance to look out for him, but you couldn’t find him. As you followed the ship for weeks, months even, you found yourself in a much different climate. When you almost gave up hope, you smiled as you saw him again, he was sitting on the edge of the ship. This time you felt far more anxious that he’d tumble in, but the sea was calm tonight, sky clear. His ocean eyes looked into the sea, a drink in his hand as he thought to himself. You couldn’t be more relieved that he was alive and healthy, but brutally reminded of the distance between you.

You wondered if he remembered you. If he remembered your passionate kiss. Perhaps it was a recurring dream in his mind, like it was to you. Or maybe he had no memory at all, of the situation, of you.

Your world felt like it ended when the ship docked at a port, all of the men were welcomed by others, you knew Matthew was home. It was unknown if he was greeted by another, a woman in your worst case scenario, he disappeared in the school of humans.

Days after, there was no sign of Matthew, you knew he was gone, it was over. How foolish were you, to even believe that there was a possibility, any possibility of blossoming love? You sulked as you swam, in no particular direction. There was no desire to go back home, seemingly no desire to live anymore.

The eels caught your attention, they swam circles around you slowly, you stopped in your tracks. Their gold eyes beamed into you, you felt compelled to follow them deep into the depths of the sea, there was no fear in your system, hardly any emotion whatsoever. As you swam into a tunnel, you observed the rare daggers of coral that spiked out from the walls, the tunnel grew smaller the deeper you swam, the eels now vanished.

“Come to me, my child” a deep feminine voice echoed.

Your stomach tightened, you stopped momentarily but believed that there was no turning back now. The arms of seaweed tried to wrap around your body, but you brushed them off. As you entered the cave, you saw multiple tentacles squirm out from a dark hole. There were exploding gusts of steam that filled the room. To your prediction, a sea witch emerged before you, echoing your name as she smirked at you.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” she questioned bluntly, but her eyes were dripping with excitement.

“I interacted with a human” you confessed, not a sound of regret or guilt in your tone.

She snorted towards you as her tentacles crawled closer to you.

“Do you know the punishment for such a crime?” she asked, leaking sarcasm.

“Death” you whispered, your head lowered in shame.

There were rumors that sea witches' eyes were connected to the water, but you did not believe it. How stupid you had been to think that you could have gotten away from this.

“Well, good thing I don’t care for justice and order” she informed, a cheeky grin flashed at you.

An eyebrow cocked as you watched her glide around you, her tentacles teased you by wrapping around your tail.

“Then, why summon me here?” you dared to ask. She swam back over to the other side of the cave, her back turned towards you.

“I may know a way to get you to the human world” she answered.

“Really?” you gasped, you could scream at this very moment.

“Yes, to the human world” she repeated, those reassuring words echoed down your eardrums.

Your eyes widened with excitement as you found yourself swimming after her. A devilish smirk locked onto her lips as she admired your look of eagerness. The back of her hand ran down your cheek, you were beautiful indeed. Oh what a shame it would be when you were ruined.

“Please! I’ll do anything!” you pleaded.

“I warn you now, little half fish… Humans ain’t all they seem… They’re not harmless creatures, some are damn right evil” she explained.

You shook your head at her accusation.

“No, you don’t understand, the human I met, well, saved… He was utterly beautiful! I’ve never seen a more captivating creature in my life!”

“Hmgh, the eyes lie…” she snorted.

“No! Not him, I want to be part of his world” you confessed.

A burster of euphoria exploded in you, you swam up to the ceiling as you dropped back down. It couldn’t be more disgusting in the sea witch’s purple eyes, she rolled them dramatically as she swam towards a table covered in potions. Her tentacles poured vials into a conical flask. The liquids formed as a sparkling gold, almost for dramatic effect, it popped alive, the steam lingered up.

“You’ll be able to reverse the spell only for three days. If he is, this one of yours… You’ll stay human forever after the sun sets on the third day. If not, all you have to do is swim back into the depths of the ocean to return back to your true body before said day. But then I’ll have to deliver your punishment for human interaction” she warned.

In reality, the spell was irreversible. But the sea witch was only able to capture the souls of the self-murders. To be able to hear your sounds of suffocation, the sensation of the waters pooling into your lungs as you prayed for the pain to be over, was her deep true desire.

“I’m certain I won’t” you replied confidently.

“However, there is a catch…” her voice trailed, a wicked chuckle followed.

“Which is?” you frowned.

“You’ll lose your voice” she answered.

“My voice! But- How will I be able to tell him that I saved-”

“You’ll have your looks, your pretty face, a new profound body language…” she grinned.

“But I need my voice!”

“Look kid, the spell is for human legs. Just because you have the upper body of a human, doesn’t mean the anatomy is cell for cell. You speak through waves. They speak through airflow. Have you ever spoken above the surface? You think they’re able to speak underwater?” She questioned, a dissatisfied expression locked on. The lie worked perfectly as you naively stared at her.

“But you don’t-”

“Trust me, men don’t like a lot of blabber. Girls who gossip are bores. On land it’s much preferred for women not to say a word. It’s she who holds her tongue who gets the man” she smirked, her slithering tongue rolled over her sharp teeth.

You gulped down your dreadful thoughts. This was the only chance you had at being with him. He had seen you, he would remember who you are, you were certain of it.

“Okay, I’ll do it” you nodded.

“Stupid, stupid fish” she muttered under her breath.

She swirled the vial, you gladly took it and the potion smelt sweet. There was only a second of consideration, she laughed evilly as you downed the golden potion. You gasped for air, but the water filled your altering lungs. A sudden hole cracked open, you looked up as the light shined upon you.

“Swim!” she shouted.

It all occurred in a flash, it felt like a dream. You weren’t even swimming, the current dragged you with it. Your body glowed as your tail firstly split into two. The flashing lights blurred your vision, air pumped through your bloodstream. Within a blink, you were desperately swimming to shore, your mouth gasping for breath as you saw the beach ripple in your sight.

You gasped for air as you rushed up as north of the shore as possible. You spat out the salt water, the usual taste and texture tasting rather salty and feeling thick on your tongue. It was instinct for you to move your newly formed legs, however your limbs were weak and you struggled to keep them composed, eventually you ended up pulling yourself up by your upper body.

As you took heavy breaths of air, you could feel your lungs pump inside of you, for the first time ever. Your eyes stung, body shivered from the cold water, however the warm rays of sun eased your discomfort slightly. However, when you looked down at your human body, you gasped out silently in horror. You were naked, a wave of embarrassment crashed over you as you tried to hide your body. Fortunately, there was an old ripped piece of sail cloth washed up on the sand, you crawled over it and twisted your body around the material.

As you looked around the empty beach, the sudden sounds of barking frightened you. In the distance, an unknown figure seemed to grow larger, it took too long of a moment for you to realize that this creature was charging towards you.

“Kneel Tanner!” that familiar voice roared.

Your body shivered as you curled up into a ball, your face buried in the sand.

“Miss!” the seductive voice called out “What are you doing out here? Were you in a shipwreck?” He sounded worried. “Let me help you” he exhaled and pulled you up to your feet.

The cloth fell from your body as you looked at him, your human. But you were too hypnotized from his beauty to care about your appearance. Shamelessly, you smiled widely at him, your body inched closer to him as you tried to balance your stance, his hands rested on your hips to support you.

“Fuck…” Matthew muttered, his hands trailing over your glistering skin, eyes lingering over your exposed breasts.

It was him, he was here, this was destiny. You smiled at him so widely, as if you enjoyed his moving touch. Matthew smirked at you, his tongue rolled over the cut on his lower lip, your eyes were fixated on his yellow teeth, they looked like tiny pieces of coral.

“You like that, aye?” Matthew murmured, his hands massaged the sides of your rear.

You nodded your head and pushed your upper body up to kiss him, exactly the way that he kissed you. Matthew stilled, only for a quick moment, then he moaned into your mouth, his body quickly mounted you onto the sand.

Even though the sea witch warned you otherwise, you still attempted to talk to him, but it just resulted in you making out with him in a sloppy manner. His hands gripped at your outer thighs, whilst his erection quickly grew in his pants. As you silently chuckled, your hands ran through his greasy blonde streaked hair.

Kissing was weird, but you couldn’t help but to feel drawn to it. The friction it created in your core caused your hips to raise up. Daringly, his hands moved towards your lower region.

“Like this?” He cocked his head to you as his hand roughly pressed against your newly formed cunt.

You gasped out, your hands shooting down pushing his hand away. That felt wrong, despite how pleasuring it was. Matthew tutted and forced his hand back over your glistering pussy, your lip trembled as you couldn’t help but to moan out, a surprising sound echoed out of your mouth.

“Hey, hey… It’s okay, I’m gentle” Matthew assured through a raspy tone. He could feel your body tremble from fear and he exhaled out, his hand still rubbing over your folds. “Where are you from?” he asked, not exactly caring in the moment, only wanting to distract your torment.

You opened your mouth to speak, but pouted when only dry, rough sounds rolled out. The attempt to speak got your throat sore, you needed to hydrate yourself desperately. Matthew grinned at you, it reassured you slightly, but you didn’t realize how sinister it truly was.

“Don’t speak? That’s alright, don’t needa do that around me” Matthew purred, his nose rubbed over your heated face as he forced a digit inside of you.

You mewled out quietly, your eyes swelled with tears from the pain as he pumped his thick finger in and out of your clenching walls. Matthew huffed out in arousal, his eyes now pools of desire, sounds of lust lingered through his teeth.

“Fuck, you’re as tight as a virgin… Shit, are you one?” Matthew’s brows furrowed, he rubbed himself with his free hand.

You nodded your head at him rapidly, not entirely sure what he was asking, Matthew groaned out and quickly freed his aching cock. There was no more time to waste, Matthew needed to claim you now.

“Fuuckkkkk. Okay, okay… I’ll try to take it slow” Matthew promised as he lined his tip up with your entrance.

You gulped down your fears, his hand pressed your shoulder into the sand to stabilize himself. Without warning, he tried to push himself inside of you, you screeched out as loudly as you could, which really wasn’t that loud at all. The tears spilled down your cheeks, your legs thrashed around as you heaved. Matthew pinned your legs down as he grunted out, determined to get his cock inside of you.

“Fuck! You’re- you’re so fucking-!” Matthew stammered, his nostrils flared as he tried to bury himself completely inside of you.

It took a while, with plenty of moments of him laying flat on top of you, hoping that your walls would ease up to his size. You panted underneath him, his weight was crushing you, the desperate attempts to push his weight off of you was already pointless. Gently, his hips inched back and forward as his size finally disappeared inside of you. The full feeling had you crying, you believed he was going to rip you in half. All Matthew had to do was turn his head to the side to keep his guilt at bay, for your looks of sorrow tugged at his heart stings.

As his thrusts got bigger, he crashed his lips back onto yours. It helped ease the pain, kissing him, the distraction was necessary for you to make it through this. The words of the sea witch taunted you, how humans were evil beings, you were so foolish. Now you had to pay the consequences, you needed to get back into the water as soon as possible.

“You’re okay, doing so well sweetheart… My name is Matthew by the way” Matthew smiled at you innocently, as if he wasn’t taking complete advantage of you.

But the softness in his smile made you want to please him, so you smiled back and nodded your head towards him. Then, his lips pressed against yours again, softly, gently, lovingly. As your arms wrapped around his back to hold him close to you, Matthew cried out, his movements stilled, you gasped at the feeling of a warm fluid shooting deep into your tunnel. Your head snapped down whilst Matthew grumbled to himself, his head hung down as his stiff figure slowly softened. The sensation terrified you.

Matthew rolled off of you, his cock flung out onto his dirty shirt and he exhaled, a satisfied grin on his lips. The fact that you couldn’t talk made you seem like you could be the perfect housewife for him. You wouldn’t be able to fight back, not that he ever wanted to argue with you anyways. Seeing you had felt like a miracle, he had been longing for a wife and now that he’d claimed you, no other man would want you.

The fear weighed heavy on you as you processed everything. This was your chance, you needed to get back into the damn water. As he laid carelessly, you winced as your core stung, legs felt like jelly. But nevertheless, you still attempted to crawl your way to the shore. But Matthew’s head snapped up, his brows furrowed and eyes narrow.

“Hey, where are you going?” Matthew mumbled as he slipped his softening cock back into his pants. His hands wrapped around your ankles and you tugged back towards him, you silently mewled. “I need to take you back to mine… It ain’t safe for you out here, don’t want any man taking advantage of you…” he cooled as he brought you into his arms. As he did so, you sniffled and latched onto him.

You poor, unfortunate soul.

[mydear-corinthian]

30,000ft. above sea level

summary - you and your boss does something not that common for you guys to do 30,000 feet above sea level

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: SMUT +18, oral sex (m!receiving), semi-public sex, dirty talk, mentions of p in v sex, humping, mentions of cases, typical criminal minds talk

notes: DAY 1 of KINKTOBER, divider by i08cymm

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

The team gathered together on the jet. Hotch was passing out the files while Spencer turned on the small laptop in front of him to contact Penelope.

The case wasn't that rough on their stomach. There were two missing girls— both of them were best friends. Both was abducted 3 days, after their dance practice. As soon as team received the file, they quickly scanned and then shared their thoughts with the group.

It was only a short discussion since their technical analyst already has the name of the unsub and the suspected area where the girls were held. All of the team decided to do their own business. Reid read a book that he brought, Prentiss and Morgan were chatting about women, while Rossi and J.J chatted about J.J's son—Henry.

The team sees you and Hotch as the parents of the team. Hotch was strict, straightforward and silent like a father; you were sweet, kind, and cares for the team like a mother. What the team doesn't know is that you and Aaron are dating for a couple months now. There were times where you enter his office and have a little make-out session in there. The team doesn't suspect anything since you know, you both are parental figures— and thank God for that. They probably think that the both of you were discussing case files or help Hotch about his paperwork during those times.

And now, you felt that mood in you again.

The two of you haven't done it on the jet yet so it might sound like new to you and him. You gently stood up to your seat and excused yourself, leaving the team and went to the other side of the jet where Hotch was. You closed the curtains that was dividing the plane.

"Mama and Papa bear are talking about paperworks again. Can't they have a life?" Morgan commented, seeing you going to Hotch and slid the curtains.

"Well, work is always on their minds." Prentiss replied.

As you entered the area where Hotch was, he was sitting down, his back facing you, paper works were all over the table. It wasn't just any paperwork nor file, it's paperwork regarding the team's behavior. You find it funny when he does that since you know how silly the team member gets.

"Hey, what's up?" you walked towards him, getting his attention as he looked at you and smiled.

"Just the behavior paperwork." Hotch answered before his eyes went back to the file and answered.

"The team can get reckless sometimes." You laughed at his statement. You sat on the chair in front of him, crossing your legs. You observed him deeply. He wasn't that stressed nor tensed but you can see how his long sleeved white shirt was getting tighter and his muscles are getting visible which is making you feel something.

That feeling increased when you looked at his face. He was focused, his eyes fall in every word he writes. Jesus— he looked so fucking hot.

"Are you doing my behavioral report?" you asked as he grabbed a new file and opened it. You saw your 2 by 2 I.D card that was clipped on the pages of the file.

"Yes. I've done the others."

"Tell me about them— their report."

He scoffed at your request. Hotch grabbed the previous files and read each report to you. "Garcia hacked 3 private servers. Morgan kicked another door during our cases even though the door was unlocked. Reid academically insulted the local P.D during our previous case. And Rossi insulted another police.." Every word he said, it wasn't coherent to you but that didn't matter.

All your attention was to him. His eyes. His face. His arms. His fingers. And his... you know where. You felt that feeling rise up again. You felt like you need his touch— which you really do. You feel like the seat was stained with how wet you were right now.

"Are you okay? Are you listening to me?" Aaron asked.

The vulgar thoughts suddenly disappeared in your mind. "Y-Yes, I'm okay. And I'm listening to you."

"You're sweating. Your breath is rigid. Something is up." he didn't buy your answer. You stood up from your seat, you pushed the table away to the aisle and sat on Aaron's lap. He was surprised but he saw it coming. Your wet lips finally met his. He returned the kiss deeply, allowing the both of you to taste each other.

It's been awhile since the both of you had sex. Cases were always here and there. You even never had the time to sleep due to how busy the team was with these harsh cases.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "We've never done it on a plane.. or miles above sea level.."

"Please, Aaron— I just really badly need you." you begged as you began to rock your heated core with his thighs, riding him.

The both of you were still fully clothed but Aaron can definitely feel how wet you were. You humped on his thigh, finding a friction on his pants; and when you did, you gripped his shoulders for support and moaned softly, your head resting on his neck.

"What if we get caught?" Aaron asked, holding your hips for support.

"They won't. Fuck— you feel so good." you moaned.

His fingers found your clothed breast. It was hard and can be seen through your thin grey shirt and he was drooling about it. Aaron began to toy with your hardened nipple, making you moan out loud. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling out your moans.

As your pace went faster, your orgasm did too. You felt a coil in your stomach and clenched on his pants.

"Come for me, honey. That's it— you're doing such a great job." he praised in your ear.

After a few more rocks, you finally came in your underwear. It didn't stain his pants but it was crumpled.

"Since you're gonna do my report... then I'll show you what a bad behavior is."

You jumped out from his thigh and kneeled. Your fingers started to unzip his pants and pulled it down. Hotch was definitely hard. Then, you removed his black boxers, allowing his hardened cock to sprung out. There was a small leak of precum on his tip. Your fingers started to toy with his tip, brushing it in a teasingly way. Aaron closed his eyes at the pleasure, his back arched slightly. Your palms begin to pump on his whole length slowly.

Aaron was desperate.

Desperate for your touch.

Desperate for your mouth.

Desperate for you to take him whole.

"(Y/n).." he moaned softly.

A smiled carved your lips as you heard him moan your name. It was your favorite music. Your favorite note. Your favorite melody. Your palms pumped his dick faster and faster. He whined and whimpered. His head moved back with his eyes completely shut. In a surprise, your mouth fully took his cock, the tip hitting at the back of your throat. You gagged at first but you got comfortable after a few seconds; you started to bob your head, your tongue licking on his dick inside. Aaron's cock hit your cheeks, the soft and warm feeling made him even more harder.

"God—so warm.. Just like that, yes.." Aaron took a fistful of your hair and guided your speed. He was big, thick, and veiny. You looked at him with innocent eyes but a lustful mouth. You gripped his thighs for support as you continued bobbing your head.Your pace quickened and you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth.

He's close.

"Are you going to swallow it all, honey?" You nodded in response as he thrusted his hips, fucking your mouth over and over again.

"Swallow it all, honey. You're doing such a great job."

After a few more thrust and bobbing, he finally came. White, warm, and creamy liquid spurted out on his dick inside your mouth. You licked his dick from top to bottom clean, making sure you get to taste and swallow every single cum he has.

You stood up and Aaron put his boxers back on and buckled his pants. The both of you were out of breath.

"I'll list that. Not on the file but on my journal." Aaron commented.

"You know, Aaron, we still have 30 minutes 'till landing. Maybe you can pay me back, huh?" you said, grabbing his tie seductively and whispered on his ear.

Little did the both of you know, all the team members were now awake.

And they heard every single noise that came out from the both of you.

[mydear-corinthian]

not you, please

synopsis - wherein the reader was kidnapped by the unsub that hotch and the team were investigating.

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader / aaron hotchner x wife!reader

warnings - ANGST w/ comfort, reader being kidnapped and tortured, blood, typical criminal minds talk/content, use of aaron and hotch separately

notes - a tad long (w.c <2300), gif & picture isn't mine, divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

"Where is she?" Hotch's deep and frustrating voice echoed throughout the interrogation room. He was alone, wanting to talk to the now-caught criminal, wanting the offender to know your whereabouts.

It's been two days since you went missing. You were just doing your usual grocery for the week not until you went to the parking lot and you felt a damped cloth covering your mouth and nose. You accidentally inhale the chemicals on it making your muscles and bones tired, and your eyes shut down completely.

When you woke up, you felt a cold metallic wrap-feeling around your wrists. Your hands were hung up while you stood; your body felt weaker than ever. As you looked down on your body, bruises and fresh scars painted all over your stomach and legs. You want to cry. Cry for the pain. Cry because you know that you won't be able to see your husband again.

Hotch came home after a long tiring work. He gently hung his suit coat on the rack as he called your name. Once he did, Hotch didn't hear an answer. He thought that you were asleep since it was already midnight. Hotch went upstairs to your shared room and knocked softly before entering. His eyes widened at the sight: the bed was empty. Hotch quickly ran downstairs, searching every room there is inside the house. Hell, he even checked the backyard.

You weren't there.

Hotch immediately grabbed his phone, dialing your number. Unfortunately, it went directly to voicemail making his heart drop.

Hi, this is (Y/n)! I'm afraid I cannot be on the phone right now. Just leave a message and I'll reply as soon as I can.

Your voice helped him a bit but it's the fact that it's just a voicemail. He cannot help but think where were you?

That's when he remembered.

Earlier in his shift, he recalled how the team got a new case. Four women were tortured and murdered with the same hair and eye color as yours.

"No, that's not possible.." Not you, please.." he thought to himself.

Hotch grabbed his car keys and drove to the BAU office right away. When he entered the office, he ran immediately and went inside the elevator. Hotch called everyone: Reid, Garcia, Morgan, J.J, Prentiss, and Rossi.

"I need you all to be here. It's an emergency." Hotch stated and dropped the call after.

After five minutes, everyone was in the conference room, standing up and looking at Hotch.

"What happened?" Morgan was the first to ask.

"(Y/n) was abducted. I suspect this morning." Hotch replied, trying to keep his composure. He may appear normal or he's showing no feelings at all but deep down, his mind is punching him with all the possibilities on where are you and what happened. Are you okay? Do you have any injuries? Or worse, are you still alive?

He knows that people who go missing die within the first 24 hours since they went missing. For the first time, Hotch disregard the statistics. He won't accept any of it.

"I am sure it has to do with the case we had this morning. (Y/n) has the same characteristics as the victims. (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c)." Hotch added.

"Oh my god.." Garcia commented, covering her mouth in shock.

"We'll help you, Hotch," J.J. said, her eyes showing a trickle of sadness.

Everyone in the BAU loved you. They were shocked knowing that both of you were dating despite your different personalities. Whenever there was a tough case, you would give them homemade cookies— especially Emily since you know how much she loves them— and you usually wait for Aaron to finish his paperworks in his office and you chat with Spencer. Listening to all the statistics and facts that he gives. You were the one who helped J.J. during her pregnancy, you gifted her how many boxes of diapers and other baby items during her bridal shower. You learned how to make Italian dishes with Rossi and Aaron loved every single dish of them. Derek and Penelope kept on asking for dating tips and even going out and parties with them. For them, you're a part of the BAU now. You're their family.

"I'll trace her phone. To see where her last location was." Garcia immediately started, leaving the room, and went to her computer lair.

"I'll talk to the neighbors to see if they saw her." Emily and Derek said.

"I'll go and try to mark a location up," Spencer said, standing up and going to the other room.

Rossi walked towards the scared and worried Hotch, patting him on the back, "We'll find her, Aaron."

-

"Look who's awake! Took you long enough," the unsub laughed, there was a small knife in his hand.

"Let me go!" you panted, your arms wiggling against the cold and handcuffs. Tears were starting to form in your eyes.

The unsub was getting closer to you until you felt his hot breath on your neck, whispering things that you wish you could not hear. With all of your strength, you kicked his stomach making him tumble backward.

"You're a fighter, aren't you?" he laughed.

His knife trailed down to your thighs, caressing it before stabbing you. You let out a scream as you felt it pinch to your skin.

"Please— stop!" you begged.

"You know, the last person who was there in your place died," he said. "If you don't want to end up like her then behave!"

You didn't protest, you want to live. Your mouth let out a series of whimpers and sobs. The unsub laughed, showing no remorse or guilt for what he had just done he enjoyed it.

Another man came inside whatever room you were in. He wasn't in shape, unlike the man who tortured you. There you know what is happening.

Two unsubs.

One is highly intelligent; the one who plans all the murders. The other one is physically strong but has no brains. The stronger man works for the other guy.

You learned it from your husband. You let him debrief heavy cases and also Aaron gives you some tips and tricks whenever you're in a dangerous situation— which he hopes won't happen but it's better to be cautious and be prepared.

"Good job finding her, Eric. I'll go somewhere to buy more tools for this lady over here." the smarter unsub said.

Eric nodded in response, facing back to you as he smiled diabolically with a small cutter in his hands.

When his duo left, all you felt was pain when the cutter went back again to your skin, cutting you slowly. Your vision started to get woozy. You lost your balance before your whole vision started going back.

-

It's finally been 24 hours since you went missing.

Aaron was mentally and emotionally dissolved. He and the whole team were in the conference room, looking at Garcia on the small screen of the laptop, hoping to get an address or a name.

Please, Garcia.. Please

"I got an address!" Penelope shouted, making everyone including Aaron stand up.

"Where?" Aaron asked immediately, his foot tapping anxiously.

"So, I searched stores who had customers previously bought knives, ropes, cutters, and all those horrifying items," she responded. Aaron's heart sank when she mentioned those items. Torture items. "—There were a lot of people who bought it—welcome to America— but this is what I suspiciously found. I reviewed this store's CCTV footage and I kept on seeing the same man coming inside the store twice a week for almost a month who brought the same items: rope, butcher's knives, small cutters, staplers, shovels, and some.. handcuffs... What's weird is that he doesn't look like the person who is physically fit to do gardening, carpentry, digging stuff and all."

"Can you identify the man, baby girl?"

"I already did. The name is Fred Silverstone. He's 5'7 tall, white, he owns a grey Adventure pickup. He's still inside the store! The address is Building 2 Kennedy Store just by Palm Street."

As soon as the team received the address, all of them went to their SUVs and drove. Derek and Rossi were with Aaron. He wanted to drive but Rossi was faster than him. Rossi began to drive at a fast speed, trying to catch the possible unsub and you in time.

Once they arrived, Aaron didn't hesitate to run inside the store with a gun in his hand and a bulletproof vest on his chest to protect him.

"John Silverstone, freeze!" Aaron yelled, pointing his gun at him when he finally saw John about to leave the store with a cart full of torture items.

"Raise your hands where I can see them!"

John raised his hands in defeat. Derek grabbed his handcuffs behind his belt and stated the Miranda Rights with anger.

-

Hotch didn't waste his time to interrogate John. He tried screaming at him. Yell at him. Yet John didn't say a word to where are your whereabouts. Unfortunately, the man didn't speak for almost 16 hours. He was quiet. He was smart.

"Oh, you're not talking? Then let's talk about your wife. She's the stressor, right? You kidnap women with the same features as your wife because she left you. And when she tried to leave you, you killed her? Isn't that right?"

"Shut up!" John yelled. "You know, Agent.. your wife.. she's pretty." the sound of your name being mentioned lit up flames to his whole body. Jesus, he wants to punch that man right now.

"You know what I did to my wife? I strangled her before slowly but satisfactorily cutting her from head to toe in that fucking basement of her home. Who knows! Your wife will be like that in a few minutes." he laughed manically.

Hotch's anger rose even higher. A lump in his throat was starting to form. When the unsub finally gave a clue to your location, Garcia searched the house of John's ex-wife and sent the location immediately.

"You're gonna rot in prison, Silverstone." Hotch lowly said before leaving the room.

-

The team went to their respective SUVs, driving immediately. Hotch's mind was killing him—all the thoughts of you being wounded, in pain, or even seeing your lifeless body.

As soon as the team arrived, Hotch ordered everyone. Prentiss was on his left while Morgan was on his right. Morgan kicked the door harshly as the three ran towards the basement.

Once you heard footsteps and Aaron's voice, your body relaxed a little.

He's here now.

But before you could shout his name out, your body was grabbed by the remaining unsub. He locked your head with his forearm while he placed a small knife near your neck. You can feel how cold the knife was.

"FBI! Nicholas, put the knife down." Aaron said.

Aaron looked at you with fear and anxiety, all he needed was for you to come back to him safely.

"No! This is for John! I-I will make John proud by killing her without his help!" Nicholas shouted.

Prentiss was too impatient so she triggered the gun, the bullet hitting the unsub's forehead directly. His body fell, blood pooling down his head.

Your legs gave up once you were now away from his grasp. Your face was pale. You were dehydrated so much. Your injuries look severe. There was a lot of dried blood on your body while some fresh scars were seen on your thighs and stomach.

Aaron ran towards you instantly. He gently grabbed your upper body, scanning for more injuries. Tears were starting to form again in your eyes as you felt his safe touch once again.

"It's okay, honey.. I'm here. You'll be alright. Just stay awake for me, okay?" Aaron caressed your hair while looking at you with his adorable eyes. He may seem still professional but his eyes were starting to water and his voice quivered.

Unfortunately, you were too weak to speak. You only answered him with a nod.

"I need an ambulance now," Morgan called.

You looked at your husband once again. Oh, he looks good. You hate seeing him anxious or sad. How you wish you had the energy to stroke his cheek. But despite that, you felt your energy decrease. Your body starts to feel cold and your head feels light. When you looked at Aaron again, your eyesight was getting blurry. Everything felt light.

"No no, (Y/n) stay awake, please. The ambulance is coming— What is taking them so long!"

You tried. Oh, you tried to stay awake but unfortunately, darkness filled you.

-

Aaron was outside the operating room for almost 5 hours now. The team left a few hours ago, leaving him alone. He glances at his wristwatch every minute, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for the doctor to tell him his condition. He finally cried. Tears were now falling how his face, imagining the worse responses once the doctor comes out of the operating room.

The door suddenly opened. A doctor exited the operating room, their scrubs were stained with some blood.

"For (Y/n) Hotchner?"

Aaron stood up immediately as he heard your name.

"She'll be fine," the doctor announced, a sigh of relief washing out on his body. "But she lost a lot of blood and was severely dehydrated. She's lucky to be alive. She will wake up in a few hours, Mr. Hotchner. You may visit her once the nurses will transfer her to a private room within the hour."

"Thank you, Doctor— Oh God— Thank you."

When you woke up, you were met by this bright light. You adjusted your eyes for a bit before opening them fully. You shifted your eyes to your legs and saw your husband sleeping rather uncomfortably. You called out his name softly, hoping that he'd wake up despite how quiet your voice was.

Aaron woke up and then looked at you. For the first time in 2 days, a smile was printed on his face.

"You're awake, " he said gently, standing up and kissing your forehead, stroking your hair with his fingers. "I thought I had lost you."

"I'm okay now, Aaron. I'm safe and you're with me," you reassured him, interlocking your fingers with his.

"I'm so sorry it took us time to find you."

"It's okay, Aaron. It's not your fault."

"I love you, (Y/n) Hotchner."

"I love you too, Aaron Hotchner." you smiled at him, kissing him back when his lips touched yours.

"Now give me some water; I'm thirsty," you said.

[mydear-corinthian]

𓍼 masterlist : criminal minds

main masterlist here

Notice: This will be updated once every new post is posted. Last Update: 10/03/2024

fluff, angst, and smut are present

SSA. AARON HOTCHNER ⺀ Not you, please - angst ↪ wherein the reader was kidnapped by the unsub that hotch and the team were investigating.

⺀ 30,000ft. above sea level - smut (D1 KINKTOBER) ↪ you and your boss does something not that common for you guys to do 30,000 feet above sea level

DR. SPENCER REID - tba

SSA. EMILY PRENTISS - tba

[mydear-corinthian]

just turned nineteen.....

[mydear-corinthian]

My boy Sylar is really sick! Please share this post so someone may be able to help me pay for the tests and medication.

@thepaintedlady00 @endlessbittersweetdreams @brummiereader @cillmequick

[mydear-corinthian]

this is what i get for learning another language rather than learning my own

just finished my grace exams and i feel like i flunked my mother tongue exam ☹️💀

anyways, criminal minds fics coming soon

[mydear-corinthian]

just finished my grace exams and i feel like i flunked my mother tongue exam ☹️💀

anyways, criminal minds fics coming soon

[mydear-corinthian]

me bcs @ilovetoxicfictionalmen and @paradiseprincesss liked my story (they're my inspo n idols)

[mydear-corinthian]

phone call

synopsis - tommy receives a phone call in the middle of having sex with his wife.

pairing - tommy shelby x reader / thomas shelby x reader

warnings - SMUT +18, rough sex, use of foul language, breeding kink, praising kink, creampie, just full of porn, unprotected sex, p in v

notes - short (w.c <850), gif and picture isn't mine, divider is mine

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

His hands explored every inch of your sensitive body with a satisfying touch that sent shivers down your spine. There was an irresistible affection between the two of you that was endless. Your breath caught as his dominant, wild hip thrusts into yours, causing hectic, unrestrained moans with every thrust.

"Oh my God- yes, Thomas!"

As he pushed you farther into the mattress, his weight and heat surrounded you as you lay beneath him, your bodies linked. He drew closer as your legs coiled around his hips, stretching you in the most delicious way as he slid deeper with each thrust. Tommy started to breathe hard, his chest heaving as sweat collected on his forehead and trickled down to mix with the heat from your smooth skin. He met your gaze with lust and something deeper than that.

"Yes, baby.. fuck- you take me so well.. so fucking well," he praised on your ear as he rested his head on your neck, his deep thrusts not stopping.

The telephone on top of the nightstand beside your shared bed rang loudly. Your husband stopped, looking at the phone near him.

Who the fuck is calling at this hour?

Tommy picked the phone up, not leaving the bed.

"Thomas Shelby." he answered.

You expected him that he would draw away and stop, especially when the phone rang. He stopped and reached for it, and you felt upset. Tommy, though, chose to stay still and answered the phone with one hand while tightening his grip on your waist with the other and suddenly thrusting his hips forward once more.

His thrusts continued to shock you, causing your body to tense in surprise, but before you could respond, pleasure took over. His cock sank farther, each malicious movement finding that exact spot. You ended up speechless by both of his soothing phone voice and the way he caused your body to react to him.

"What ha-happened?" Tommy asked over the phone, his breathing heavily telling each question with a struggled and unsteady voice. He attempted to keep his composure, but the force of his motions made it almost impossible as his chest rose and fell quickly. As he tried to concentrate on the talk, you could feel his heart thumping against your body and his breath rapid and hot against your skin.

Tommy looked at you, a smirk painted on his face. With his free hand, his fingers toyed with your hardened nipples, brushing them and squeezing it.

"Tomm-" you covered your mouth immediately as you nearly moaned his name out loud, afraid of whoever is on the phone hearing that Tommy is fucking his wife at the moment.

"Yeah, I'll handle that tomorrow morning," his voice was deep making you feel wetter and wetter. A familiar feeling coiled down through your stomach.

"Tommy, I'm so close," you quietly moaned. Your fingers gripped the silk bedsheets tightly as you felt your high coming.

The room was filled with the constant sound of your bodies meeting, the heat between you growing with each slap of flesh on skin. Your thoughts were taken over by the intense pleasure that was shooting through your entire body as your eyelids fluttered closed, buried in a fog of ecstasy. You vaguely heard Tommy drop the phone somewhere in the distance, but it didn't really matter. The way he grabbed you closer and pounded your hips with such merciless pace that every thrust sent shivers of pleasure through your entire body was all that mattered. Heavy intakes of breath from him, merging with your groans as he pushed you both to the edge.

"Good girl, yes, yes.. Finish on my cock."

Tommy experienced the same closeness as your cock clenched all over it. With a deep moan, he raised your right leg to his shoulders. He treated you like the most precious gemstones that thieves like him could take. Tommy groaned and praised as his head rolled back.

"D'you want me to cum inside you? Breed you? Make you mine?"

"Yes, yes! Fill me up, sir! Please!"

His back was scratched by your nails, and in a few hours, scars will definitely begin to appear. You groaned, breasts bouncing and the bed creaking with every pound.

And then, after a few more thrusts, he smashed deep inside of you until he poured all of his seed into your abused and tight walls. It was warm and filled. Tommy groaned loudly and pleased, then rested his head on the side of your neck to inhale yourself. He waited until every last drop of his cum filled you before pulling out.

As soon as he pulled out, a mixture of his and your load leaked outside your throbbing pussy. Tommy got up, grabbing a box of tissue and cleaned the both of you up.

"Who was that?" you asked.

"Just the betting shop asking for me to check on something."

"You think they.. heard me?"

"I'm sure they did and I'm glad so that they know how much I fucking please my lovely wife." he chuckled before planting another kiss to your lips.

You gladly kissed him back but the kiss deepened and the both of you know what that means.

Another round.

[mydear-corinthian]

hello!! no one gives a fuck but i'm back!!!! i've been busy with some personal shit but i'll try my best to come back and continue with writing. i read than write nowadays, LOL. i may also start writing for criminal minds

[mydear-corinthian]

while you're interviewing

synopsis: giving cillian a head while he's having an online interview.

pairing: cillian murphy x reader / cillian murphy x wife!reader

warnings: SMUT +18, oral sex (m! receiving), blowjob, domcillian, implied sex, reader is horny as fuck

notes - rushed, a bit short <1500 w.c, divider and gif is mine

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

It's turned out that your husband has a more complicated schedule than you had imagined, partly because of his notable work as a celebrity. You're very proud of him, especially in light of his most recent success—getting the lead in the movie that everyone is calling the best of the year. Along with receiving positive recognition, which his success has attracted a lot of media attention, that has resulted in a ton of interviews and promotions.

Consequently, your partner's days and nights are occupied with continuous responsibilities. Where you both currently reside, in Dublin, it is currently two in the morning. Even though it's late, Cillian remains involved in his work. His face is softly lit by the laptop screen as he sits in his home office, which is a calm yet busy space. Due to the changes of several time zones, he is preparing for an interview that is taking place at this unusual hour, yet he remains focused throughout.

These late-night interviews are a natural component of his schedule due to the nature of his work. The joy you get from his accomplishments and the commitment to his trade make up for the challenge of adjusting to this fast-paced workplace. His dedication is clear in the conversation as he carefully goes over his notes and collects his thoughts, which is a praise to the ability and hard work he has put into this incredible project. 

Although you were always proud of your lover, there was also a hint of melancholy. You two haven't really bonded with each other in a while. sharing a bed, going on a date, or simply staying home.

Cillian's head lifted up when he heard a soft knock. "Baby, why are you still awake?" he asked.

"Can't sleep."

He gave you a little smile and then tapped his thigh to invite you to sit on it. You approached your partner and took a seat on his right thigh. As he did the same to your hips, you put your arms around his neck to support him.

"Is there something on your mind?" Cillian asked, giving you a soft kiss before laying his eyes back at yours.

Sighing, you looked at the screen in front of you. He was already in the logging-in part of the Zoom call, showing how his interview will start in awhile.

"Nothing.. just tired," you lied.

"Hm? What's actually bothering you right now?"

You didn't answer his question, instead you let your lips crash to his, allowing yourself to taste him. Cillian let out a small oh and smirked, knowing what you meant. He kissed you back, deepening it. You moved your position, now sitting on his lap facing him. Your husband gripped your hips and caressed your bare back when he lifted your shirt a bit.

"Need you, Cillian," you moaned in between kisses as the making out session got more heated. Your arms wrapping his neck, grinding your hips to his clothed bulge. Your breath getting ragged.

You felt a familiar spark flare up inside of you after the kiss, awakening the need you'd been craving. His touch, calming and soft, surrounded you with a warmth that only he can give. You got the comfort you were looking for in his hug, and Cillian's hand was a gentle reminder of your strong relationship.

Suddenly, Cillian pulled the kiss out. A short sigh escaped his lips. "Not now, honey. I still have an interview."

"Can't it wait?" you pleaded making him chuckle.

Before turning off the camera and microphone and getting ready for the Zoom conference, his fingers danced across the keyboard as he entered his log-in information. Your lips met Cillian's soft lips in a brief but sweet kiss that held a hint of melancholy. With a trace of remorse, he said, "I'm sorry, honey, it really can't." 

The both of you heard a voice, assuming it was the interviewer, coming out from his Apple laptop. "Okay, Cillian," the interview called his name, "we'll start the interview now."

He looked at you apologetically. His eyes pleaded and his lips curved into a small sad smile. You lifted yourself off of his lap and walked behind his desk so that the interviewer won't see you once Cillian turns on his camera.

Cillian then clicked the camera button, turning it on and his microphone as well. He expected you to leave his office and not you crawling below his desk.

He looked at you below, giving you a gaze of what the hell are you doing? but you didn't stop, instead you chuckled.

"So, Cillian! How are you doing?" the interviewer's voice echoed all over the silent walls of his home office.

"Yeah, everything is great. It's actually three in the morning here."

"Oh! I think your family is asleep now, especially your wife, yeah?"

"My wife definitely is." he laughed a little, looking down at his pants as you slowly unzip them.

"So, tell us about Oppenheimer!"

The tension between you increased as your fingers neatly removed his zipper, and the hope in the air practically sparked. His Calvin Klein briefs' fabric pulled against the hardness below, revealing his erect, pulsating length. You gently touched him, feeling the heat escape through the thin material, and then you shot him a playful glance that caused his breath to hitch.

You slid his boxers down slowly, almost like a tortue to him, revealing his entire erect cock. Your mouth started to moisten at the sight, and you found yourself wanting to lean in closer, your breath hot against his skin. He let out a deep, low moan that echoed across the still room as your thumb slowly moved around the swollen tip. There, a bead of pre-cum accrued that provided resisting impossible.

Cillian grabbed a fist full of your hair, letting you take his whole length; his tip hitting at the back of your throat. He let out a groan but tried to cover it with a cough, not letting the interviewer know what was actually happening.

Cillian took hold of your hair with his fist, allowing you to take his entire length, his tip brushing the back of your throat. He groaned, trying to hide it under a cough to keep the interviewer from realizing what was going on. Every time he gave you a thrust, his breath was labored. He tried not to look suspicious at all, but for a few seconds his eyes were forcibly shut.

"Mmp—!" you moaned at his cock, taking him again and again and again. His grip was getting harsher and harsher but it doesn't hurt you. Your left hand gripped his right thigh, allowing yourself to balance while your other hand massaged his balls—which he absolutely loves.

His silent airy moans are starting to hear not so silent anymore. His other arm gripped his swivel chair tightly.

"Cillian, are you okay?" the interviewer asked.

"A-actually, I think I'm not feeling that well, Jimmy," he lied, looking at his webcam. "Can we perhaps—Jesus— reschedule this meeting?"

You bobbed even faster, letting his cock hit your throat, your cheek, everything inside your mouth.

"Yeah, sure. No problemo! We'll just send you an email later. Get well soon, Cillian!" and that's the last voice that echoed through the laptop before you heard him closing it.

Cillian relaxed his back and continued to gasp and whimper at the way you were feeding him. He was having an incredible amount of pleasure, and he most certainly needed this after all the hectic job he had to accomplish. He smiled and said,

"Fuck— you really can't wait don't you?" he was close, because you felt him twitch inside of you. He let out a loud groan as you swallowed him completely once more.

"Oh honey, that's it—yes."

He leaned in closer and said, "Gonna cum inside your mouth, honey. Take it all, okay?"

It took him a couple more thrusts until he came. Inside your mouth, a white, creamy, and salty liquid spurted out of his cock. You licked your lips clean after swallowing it all, got to your feet in front of him, and then sat back down on his lap.

"Looks like I need to reward my wife, hm? Let's go to our room." Cillian said.

"Oh finally!" you sighed in amusement.

[mydear-corinthian]

Please REBLOG this if you’re still in the Peaky Blinders fandom, I wanna write but also feel like there might not be any interest in it anymore

[mydear-corinthian]

im flopping