#i'm ready to cry in frustration all over again

[anundyingfidelity]

PRIMAL — Weapon X!Logan

Summary: You are right where he wants and won't escape the subject's twisted mind.

Warnings: heavy non-con smut, dark stuff, mentions of being tortured, female!reader. Read at your own risk tbh, thank you if you do though. Someone pls write more Weapon X! Logan, I'm going crazy at this point.

GEN MASTERLIST!

He has you exactly where he wants. Between the concrete and his intimidating aura. Your eyes are glossy, chest going up and down, ready to be the next victim. His last one.

You study the Weapon X subject one more time. He’s broad and muscular, strong frame with adamantium bones, claws out his knuckles as he walks to you, full in his naked glory. Stains of blood start to dry off on his chest, abdomen and shoulders. And even though in other circumstances he would make a good-looking man, he is far from being one now.

He is not human anymore, he is an animal. And you had been part of the experiments since the beginning. For some reason, he had saved you last from all the personnel of the base. A twisted and sick choice.

Logan takes the last two steps towards you, closing the distance. He can smell your fear, sense the shaking of your whole body, the beating of your heart… He had been watching you, paying special attention to you each time he could. Your voice, your silhouette, your job, your routines around the lab. Everything you did he had learned.

And now, after killing and dismantling the place, leaving a horrid trade of bodies and red around, he feels like finishing everything with you.

He doesn’t know your name, he just knows you were part of them and he fucking hates it.

How could such a pretty thing like you could bear torturing a lost soul like him? He growls at the thought, leaning until his nose is almost touching yours.

You gasp loud, the echoes of your breathing filling the empty place. Your eyes shut and you feel tears running down your cheek.

“Logan…”

He replies with a deep groan again, taking in the scent of your neck and the salty sweat covering your skin. Oh and how he loves the reactions of your body as he traces his way to the shell of your ear with his nose.

“Please… You- you’re not like this…”

Begging would do nothing, he knows it. You keep begging and begging, calling his name as he takes in the features of your face, eyes barely opening. And when you cross glances, besides the fear on your gaze, he can sense something else building on you: arousal. It’s not the first time he’s sensed it on you, but sure he will take out his own suffering and frustrations on that.

“Logan…”

Claws come close, cutting your blouse and bra off. He rips the fabric with his hands before your trousers and panties come off the same way. You squirm and cry, but don’t make any effort on pushing him away because you know he would win the same. He’s massive, stronger, and dangerous. He’s a weapon you helped to build, and compared to him, you are nothing.

Probably he will get vengeance by tearing you apart, forcing you on the smudged, cold floor. He’s all over you, not quite giving kisses but bruises with his lips and teeth on your neck, biting on your skin, legs wide as he feels your wet cunt against his hard cock.

You cry his name, more like a moan, when he forces himself inside your tight walls without any preparation. He’s animalistic, erratic, growling, almost howling, like a dog in heat.

The scratch of your nails do nothing. He pounds harder into your abused cunt, tearing an orgasm out of you. He spills himself in seconds, feeling your walls around him sucking him completely, and he continues fucking you over and over his own high, increasing the sensitive feeling between your legs. And just as you think Logan is over by how quick he keeps rutting on you, hips making an obscene noise every time he buries balls deep inside your cunt, it feels like he goes faster, harder, that it becomes too much and you cling into him with nails and loud whimpers, sore throat crying into the void.

He comes a second time with a deep moan, filling you up once again and you do nothing but take it. Slowly, he pumps his white seed into you until he fully stops inside your abused, needy pussy.

The primitive need to kill now is replaced with a more primal urge, and you would be perfect for that from now on.

[walmartbrandwhatever]

There’s this one jump that Marcia can’t get right, so she works herself to the bone trying to perfect it, and every time she falls she just hears trips voice in her ear telling her that it isn’t good enough. Two bit coming to pick her up for dinner but her telling him that she can’t stop practicing, and when he tries to convince her to go with him she just yells at him- they stand there for a moment then she breaks down crying in this arms. I’m going insane.

Her falling back into the same cycle will always make me so sick. Her just not being able to land this jump. She's just utterly exhausted at that point, she hasn't eaten and she's just mentally beating herself up. OMG Imagine like this causes her to first telling him about trip and how he would yell at her and hes just utterly horrified.

Note: I was cooking so hard this turned into a small drabble so I apologize that it took me so long to answer.

Note: another thing tumblr kept deleting my work so I had to take a step back bc I got upset 😔

By the time Two-Bit enters the rink, he sees Marcia attempt some jump he couldn't remember the name of and fall. He watches her for a second, and the clear frustration is written all over her face as she smacks the ice next to her before pushing herself up and preparing to try it again. He glances around the rink, there was no one other person there than her. Making his way to the entrance of the rink, he called out to her to make sure she at least knows he's there and ended up with no response.

With a sigh, he stops at the opening of the rink and watches her try the jump again and fail it again. He knows she's too exhausted to even do the jump right. He calls out to her again, and thankfully, this time, she turns to him, her face scrunched up as her chest rises and falls far too fast. "C'mon Mar, you ain't goin' to get that jump right. Not tonight. Plus you promised me a dinner doll. " A soft smile rested on his face, and he slowly fell the second he realized that she wasn't even planning on leaving any time soon.

"I can't. I'm sorry Two, I can't get this jump, and I need to perfect it. Maybe another time."

She offers him a half ass attempt of a smile before turning and preparing to try the jump again. "You're never going to get it, Mar, not today, at least. Look, I know you want to get it, but you're exhausted, and I bet you haven't paused to eat anything. Just-"

"You don't know shit Keith." She snapped, turning towards him again. He has never heard Marcia yell, let alone at him, so it catches him by complete surprise.

"You what? Know the basics? You don't get it, and you never will. You'll just know You'll never be good enough no matter where you go!" They both just stand there for a moment staring at each other. Two-bit knows that her anger is directed towards herself. He could see the millions of voices screaming at her, telling her the exact words she just told him. For a moment, she reminded him of Darry. God knows how much that boy works himself into the ground. There was one time after a long practice where Two had tried to get Darry to take a break. Darry had turned and yelled at him. At first, Two-bit was hurt, but standing their wide-eyed, he had seen the pain and anger Darry had, and now here he was standing and looking at Marcia, who held the same look in her eye. Well the anger long gone, just replaced by guilt.

She looked like a ghost when the words she said must’ve hit her because her face drops and she looks just about ready to cry. "Shit, I'm sorry - I," she pushes herself over towards him, guilt written all over her. He took a second to gather his thoughts. He knew she didn't mean it. More than likely, she meant it towards herself.

He gave her a small squeeze before attempting to pull away. He stopped the second he heard a small sob. His eyebrows furrowed,

" it's alright, ain't the first time i've been yelled at. Look, I know you're upset, but let's just take a second to breathe. " he took a deep breath and let it out. She followed his actions, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "There we go. Are you good now?" He watched as she fought back the tears that rolled down her face. Panic quickly filled his body. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. "Hey, hey-hey, whoa, it's alright," he stepped forward, pulling her into a hug.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, just sobbing into his chest. The genuine pain in her sobs made his heart squeeze because all he wanted was to take all her pain away. He wasn't sure what had gotten her so shook up. The genuine look of fear on her face caught him off guard.

They had stood there for a while, him gently rubbing her back as she cried. Once she seemed to calm down for the most part, he pulled back a bit, just enough to see her face. "Mar hey c'mon talk to me, what's wrong?" She wasn't looking at him. It was the first thing he noticed. Her eyes just burned holes at his chest and her mouth opening and closing a few times before she spoke up. "I'm sorry for yelling at you- God you didn't deserve that.."

"Hey, it's alright, I forgive you. Truly, it happens to the best of us, " his eyes darting around her face, looking for any hints that would tell him what was wrong. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but it might help."

That's when she told him about her old partner. At some point, they had sat down as she spoke. Told him about how when things got real stressful, most practices were just her getting screamed at. Yelled at about something that she had done wrong. She then started apologizing and explaining how she could just hear him screaming and the frustration building like it had back then.

It horrified him. Hearing her not only talk about some guy berating her but also berating herself. He gently grabbed her hand and just stared at her for a moment. Marcia took a heavy breath before looking over at him. "Marcia, you never deserved that." Her eyes searched his face, probably trying to find any deceit. "But only if-"

"No, buts. You didn't deserve that point blank no matter how much stress he might’ve been through." Most people think he couldn't be serious, mostly since he's always joking around even in most serious moments, but he can, and in this very moment, he was showing that. He knew Marcia wouldn't believe him, maybe not for a while, but he needed her to know that she didn't deserve getting yelled at. "You swear?"

"I promise. Now how about that dinner?"

She smiled softly, standing up from where she was sitting. For a moment, he thought she was just gonna throw herself back onto the rink, but she headed towards her bag. "Yeah, yeah, just let me pack up"

Watching her unlace her skates and place them onto the bench, he knew that it would all work out. That one day they'd be living life good hand in hand.

[ryanthedemiboy]

The hospital in germany didn't reply to the final letter within the time limit set by my lawyer, so no settlement. We're suing them :/

[pathologicalreid]

what to expect | s.r.

in which you find yourself frustrated at the end of your pregnancy, and spencer talks you off a ledge

margotober

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (hurt/comfort) content warnings: pregnancy, lamaze classes, self-consciousness, boy dad spencer, spencer is perfect, birth talks, breastmilk mentioned, crying word count: 1.68k a/n: i'm writing all of these a/n's at the same time and i'm running out of interesting things to say to you. this was a request! i hope you enjoy!

“Now,” the instructor continued her presentation, “Our recommendation is the five-five-five rule.” The yardstick that she was using to emphasize the slides smacked against the projector screen, “That’s five days in bed, five days on the bed, and five days near the bed.”

Leaning back, you rested your back on Spencer’s chest and whispered, “If you try to keep me in bed for five days, we’ll have to start marriage counseling.”

Your husband hummed in response, “Why don’t we just see how you’re feeling after he’s here?”

Holding back a groan at his diplomatic answer, you turned your head back to the screen, anxiety already at an all-time high after watching video footage of a live birth. At a friend’s recommendation, you had signed yourself and Spencer up for Lamaze lessons, but you hadn’t anticipated how in-depth they would go.

It didn’t help that Spencer had been on a case when you were supposed to start, pushing back your start time. Now you were finishing your last lesson on the same day your OB had given you the ‘any day now’ speech. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, noticing the way you didn’t respond to his suggestion.

Your head bobbed in confirmation, “Yeah, just tired.” The lights were dimmed in the classroom, between that and the warmth of Spencer behind you, you were ready to fall asleep.

Your sweet husband was beginning to toe the line of being overbearing, “Do you want me to take the rest of the day off?”

“No,” you answered. He had taken an extended lunch to be able to go to this lesson with you, there was only a week until his paternity leave officially started, and it wasn’t necessary for him to stay with you for the rest of the day.

Besides, having him around all day was only going to make your prenatal anxiety worse.

He was already the perfect father, his eidetic memory contributing to all of the facts that he listed about newborns and birth. He knew more about the changes happening to your body, and the worst part was that everyone knew it.

Cringing as the lights went up, you leaned back on your hands as Spencer stood up, packing up your bag before crouching down to help you up. Looking around the room, you watched all of the other couples in your class smiling and laughing with each other, the moms moving around the room with an ease that you no longer possessed.

You took a deep breath, placing one hand on your side in an attempt to brace yourself, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Spencer asked again, watching you zone out in the middle of the Lamaze studio.

“Mhmm,” you reassured him, “Braxton Hicks,” you added, trying to wave off some of his concern.

Nodding in understanding, Spencer gently placed a hand on the small of your back before the two of you started to make your way out of the room, stopping to grab the gift bag your instructor had put together for you. His hand dropped to hold yours before walking down the steps, leaving the two of you at the entrance to the parking garage, “Hey,” he nudged, trying to lift your spirits, “No more classes.”

Admittedly, the Lamaze lessons weren’t your favorite couple activity, and Spencer knew that the only reason you kept going was that they were non-refundable. “Right,” you agreed, knowing that now you’d have to face the next hurdle—actually giving birth.

“Okay,” Spencer said, gently herding you over to a park bench. He set the bags down on the seat before you sat down, leaving him squatting in front of you. “What’s wrong, honey? I know something’s wrong,” he insisted, knowing you well enough to be able to tell when you were burying your feelings.

You leaned back onto the bench, “I’m pregnant,” you shrugged as if that was answer enough.

Spencer frowned up at you, “Yes, this much I am aware of,” he confirmed, eyes flickering down to your bump before going back to your face.

“I just…” you struggled to find the right words, “I’m pregnant, and you’re doing all of this research into pregnancy and labor and birth, and I’ve done none of it. None of the research or the work and I’m— I feel useless!”

His expression softened at the sight of tears welling in your eyes, “You’re not useless. You’re so far from useless that it’s not even on the list of adjectives I would consider while describing you.” He rested his hands on you, one on top of your knee to maintain his balance and another on the side of the bump, skimming his thumb over the cotton of your t-shirt. “You’ve been growing our baby, and he’s beautiful and healthy and he’s going to love you regardless of how much research you’ve done about him.”

Huffing, you wipe at your teary eyes, “It’s so embarrassing though! Going to the BAU today and hearing everyone talk about how prepared you are, the stacks of books on your desk and on your nightstand and on the coffee table.” You paused to take a deep breath, “In those stupid classes where you knew so many of the answers that the instructor stopped calling on you to give everyone else a chance.”

“Sweetheart,” Spencer murmured, “I like being prepared. Especially for big changes like this.”

You nodded, resting your hand on top of his, “And I love that about you, but I have never felt so unprepared for anything in my life,” you confessed, struggling to catch your breath.

It wasn’t like Spencer didn’t understand your frustrations, he just wished you had voiced some of these concerns sooner, “You don’t need to prepare like I do, though. Your maternal instinct? It’s inherent. It’ll immutably move you to sense and take care of the baby, okay? With dads it’s different. I don’t have any sort of physical connection with him like you do, I won’t develop a similar instinct until I actually spend time with him. So, technically, you’re ahead of me,” he explained, using all of his research to soothe you out of your panic.

“I just want him to love me as I love him,” you pouted, looking down at the bump, “but I ache all over, Spence. My boobs hurt. They’re not even tender anymore, they just hurt,” you complained.

Spencer chuckled lightly at your breast comment, “He will love you as you love him; I guarantee it. Your boobs hurt because they’re producing colostrum, and we can call your doctor later to see if it’s alright to pump. That’ll help relieve the pressure.”

Some of the tension in your body released, and you sniffled timidly, “I think those classes are designed to freak people out of ever having another baby. Oh my god,” your eyes go wide as you recall the live birth video, “You can’t watch.”

“Watch what, honey?” Spencer asked.

You looked at him with abject horror in your eyes, “The baby. You can’t watch me give birth. Is that why the dads always used to wait in another room? Should I be having you wait in another room while I’m in labor?”

He shook his head, “I’d like to be in the room with you, but if you’d be more comfortable having me somewhere else, then we can figure that out. However, we just went through twelve hours of birthing classes together, so if you’d rather I just refrain from actually watching you push the baby out, then I will promise to abide by your rules.”

Horror stories that you had heard from other moms about how their husbands wouldn’t touch them after birth filled your mind, and that type of rejection horrified you. With wide eyes, you looked at your husband and whispered, “I can’t do this.”

Spencer watched helplessly as tears filled your eyes once again, “Can’t do what?”

“Have a baby,” you answered, your voice tight with emotion, “What was I thinking? I never should’ve done this, oh no.” You continued muttering to yourself, sending your head into a tailspin as Spencer desperately tried to get you to come back down to earth.

“Hey,” Spencer crooned, “Y/N, hey,” he tried to get you to snap out of it. “Hey, we made this decision together, remember? Why didn’t you tell me you hated being pregnant?”

Your eyes snapped to his, “I don’t hate being pregnant. I’m just over it!”

Pushing your bags off to the side, Spencer sat down next to you on the bench, “You want him here, huh?”

Nodding melodramatically, you cover your eyes with your hands, “I just wish he could be in my arms instead of in my belly, and now that I’ve been told he could come any day it’s so much worse.”

“Thirty-seven weeks is any day now territory,” Spencer acknowledged, “but not today, I’m afraid.”

Dragging your hands down your face as you met his eyes, knowing that today was, in fact, not the day. “I miss hugs,” you told him mournfully, wiping at the fresh tears in your eyes.

Spencer casually put his arm around your shoulders, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your temple, “I hug you all the time,” he reminded you.

“It’s not the same with the bump,” you admitted, there was always an awkward lean involved, and you could never get close enough to him.

He raised his eyebrows at you curiously, “So, if I promise to give you a hug after the baby’s born, will you stop crying?”

Leaning your head back and using his arm as a headrest, your head bobbed slightly, “Yeah, I think that could fix me.”

“Honey,” he started, “I promise to give you the coziest, most rejuvenating hug of your entire life after the baby comes. I will hug you like you’ve never been hugged before.”

Turning to face him, a timid smile grew on your face, “Well, now you’re kind of laying it on thick, don’t you think?”

He sighed desperately, “I just really want you to stop crying.”

[boowritess]

part 1 hehe

notsobaddasssoldier!reader that is so incredibly under prepared for everything. and the 141 really do forget that you're actually still very green - very new to this life.

especially with things like interrogation.

for once, price is putting you on the sideline BUT you have to interogate the person they have captive for valuable information.

they'll give you whatever things you need in order to pry out any sort of information from the captive. they don't even second guess you asking for a guitar. they get one then they continue on with the mission while you interrogate the person.

their expectation may have been very high. they were betting on all the little fun bloody pain you could potentially do to the captive. seriously,

"knife, they're a knife person" *ghost*

"definitely not. fire. they're definitely using a blowtorch on em as we speak." *soap*

"sod of the both of ya - waterboarding. for sure." *gaz*

"choking." *price shrugs*

obviously, they were excited to come back and see who was right...

it really humbled them to see they were all wrong.

"please make them stop. i'll tell you whatever you want"

*captive yelling that can be barely heard over reader.*

"AHHHHHHHHHH *strum strum* AHHHHHH AHHHHHHH *strum strum* AHHHHHH-"

*reader who is loudly strumming the guitar out of tune, screaming in the captives' face over and over again.*

the guys don't know if they should be impressed or concerned. they were gone for nearly 5 hours.

5 hours you had been screaming in the captives' face 'playing' the guitar.

later on you get a lesson from ghost about what interrogations are supposed to be like - it ends with you vomiting and price patting your back and gaz holding a bucket to your mouth.

"what did you think was gonna happen when ghost showed ye what to do?" *soap*

"i don't know... go boo?" *scarred reader*

yeah... you're not allowed to do interrogations anymore or be involved in interrogations- you are also most definitely not allowed to talk to captives or guard them because -

"why're you doing this?" *captive*

"honest to god, i ain't got much goin' for me and i had hella stu-"

*reader's mouth suddenly gets covered, gaz looking at you like an idiot*

"hm? what is your little task force plan, huh? go on and blow the place?" *captive*

"well actually no. they plan too-" *your mouth gets covered just in time and you're getting dragged out the room by a very frustrated price*

you very much get ANOTHER lesson about what NOT TO DO when in the same room as a captive - it's pointless though because you're still not ever allowed in the same room alone with a captive.

HAHAHA

i can't stop thinking of reader who is watching a captive be interrogated for information by getting choked and reader just piping up like

"i don't think they can breathe..."

*ghost, long exhale, continues choking captive*

"that's the point, kid" *price*

"oh..."

*they continue choking the captive, waiting for them to crack-*

"if they can't breathe how are they going to talk-?"

"out." *ghost snaps pointing at the door.*

maybe they do give you a second shot at attempting to interrogate the captive. the 'correct' way this time, though. giving you ALL the necessary tools...

and you are ready, you're pumped. you can do it. you're not going to vomit - you're going to do it right.

you grab the pliers and walk towards the captive who is obviously panicked, very much expecting you to do your worse. which you are.

you grab their mouth and force their mouth open, ready to pull their teeth out - sucking a deep breath in as the captive starts to cry and beg.

but then you start to cry and beg.

"please just tell me the information i don't wanna do this"

"you don't have too!" *captive, crying and begging too*

"i do! i'm sorry..."

"no." *captive*

"yes."

"no" *captive starts screaming, making you start screaming as you pull on their tooth both of you staring at eachother and screaming your heads off.*

"I'M SORRY!"

"STOP!" *captive*

"I CAN'T!" *pulls tooth with pliers* "EW EW EW EW-"

you don't even do it right. you're pulling at their tooth with pliers and you're not strong enough so you're awkwardly just tugging the captives head. but the both of you are too busy screaming and begging to notice...

but you actually manage to successfully get the information - you're still not allowed to do interrogations... only being the very last option.

it does mean that you have to go on missions... even if you're useless omg idea?

*gasp* someone claims reader is a traitor - oop?

more parts, perhaps?

a/n: wrote this while trying to work through an anxiety/panic attack !! xx honestly tho these would be my genuine reaction. btw drink water and try sleep cause i can't xx

[sp4ceboo]

A/N: aaaaaand she's back (i had to get the hard thoughts out before i wrote a full length fic, i'm not sorry)

tw: 18+, smut (afab reader, fingering f recieving, piv sex, praise AND degrading ofc, angry sex, 1 spank, overstim, some dirty dirty talk icl, no protection oh dear), sometimes ken sato is a sad little meow meow but definitely not in this fic, they fuck in the basement but atp emi is on the island dw, tiniest weeniest bit of aftercare at the end

wc: 0.73k

kenji sato is seething.

tonight's game was one of the rare times when the giants had lost, and you can feel his frustration in the urgency with which he touches you, pushing you against the cool glass until your vision is filled with the sea outside, silver glimmers flashing in your eyes as fish dart by.

you can feel his frustration in the tension of his movements as he practically tears your clothes off you, and in the low grunt that sounds from behind you as he roughly yanks off his belt.

most of all, you feel his frustration in the way he runs his calloused hands over your skin, over your curves, grabbing handfuls as if to say this is still mine. i may have lost the game today, but i won this, i won her.

ken presses his hard chest to your back with the same fervor that he presses his mouth to the nape of your neck, tongue and teeth coasting over your skin. the glass is so frigid against your bare breasts that it's almost cutting, but you can't get away; he's right there behind you, raging, burning.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it.

there's something addictive in the harsh way he grips your hips, the way he sucks bruising hickeys onto your neck - a promise that he'll fuck you until the loss is no longer on his mind, until all he can think about is your sweet, sweet pussy.

you can't help the pitiful sound that leaves you when he kicks your legs apart, his long fingers giving you less than a second to regain your balance before he's shoving them knuckle deep into your cunt.

'so wet for me, huh?' he asks, and you can hear the lingering venom in his voice. 'such a dirty fucking slut, aren't you? turned on because i'm angry? want me to use you, hm?'

'y - yes, ah, yes i - '

the rest of whatever you were going to say dissolves into a moan, your eyes rolling back as ken pumps his fingers in and out of you fast. you scrabble against the glass for purchase, mouth agape, pleas on your lips. he's unrelenting, giving you so much all at once, giving you no time to adjust, but you know that's how he wants you: floundering, trembling, overwhelmed.

you can feel his fingers curling inside you, cataclysmically so. his thumb is bearing down on your clit, rubbing tight, agonising circles, over and over, and all at once it's enough to send you over and you're shattering into a million pieces, his name a broken cry on your lips.

'that's it,' he croons as you come. 'my good little slut.'

not even a moment later, you feel the nudge of the blunt head of his cock, and you whine, knees weak as you babble at him that you're not ready yet, knees weak as he sheathes himself inside your still spasming cunt. tears come to your eyes then, and his hand cracks down on your ass, your whole body jolting in reply.

'you take what i give you,' he growls in your ear.

'please,' you sob. 'take it out on me.'

at your words, ken groans, low and deep in your ear. you mewl at the drag of his cock against your walls, gasping when he presses your body harder against the icy cold glass, burying himself inside you again and again, his pace punishing.

taking a fistful of your hair, he yanks your head backwards, arching your back more for him as he pounds into you. tears slip down your face as the pleasure turns sharp, overstimulation rubbing your nerves raw as his deft fingers find your clit and set you on fire.

effortlessly, he brings you over the edge again, and you're screaming his name, pussy convulsing around his cock as you writhe in his arms. his thrusts become faster, until you're sure he might break you, and then suddenly he's spilling inside you.

you moan as his strokes finally peter out, resting your sweaty forehead against the glass and going limp. one hand on your waist, supporting you, ken pulls out and scoops you into his arms; you nuzzle into his chest, tucking your head under his chin, and he kisses your hair.

'feeling better now?' you ask.

he laughs. 'of course. you take me so well, baby.'

[fortheb0ys]

Just thinking of cumming in Soap numerous times. You're tired, nearly falling asleep. He's crying his face a complete mess. Cum's leaking out of his ass and the base of your cock soaked it in.

You had already been tired from your schedule being taken up by training the rookies. Relaxing with your boyfriend and going to bed early was your plans for the evening but not Soap's.

No, his plans was to be fucked stupid for hours.

Now he's riding you as your eyes flutter, trying your damn hardest to stay awake. He's getting desperate, chasing a far high.

He wants another round. Getting tire was something Soap wasn't going to be for long time. He'd cum more times than you could count and with little down time he'd start right back up again which is an instance like right now.

Soap had just came for the fifth time and you three. You're extremely exhausted and Soap quite the opposite. He could go on for another two hours but you were ready to call it a night.

He bounces vigorously with a pout adorned on his face, frustrated at your lack of effort. His orgasm was so close. All he needed was your hands all over him. To bite, pinch, grope, anything. No, all he got was lazy squeezes on his waist. Your tired fingers weren't enough to bruise him.

Noticing Soap's disappointed attitude, you try to engage with his wants. You'd massage his sides, grip his waist to slam him down on your cock. Just to stop when you became tired once again.

You're both dirty, covered in cum and all you wanted to do was fall asleep with Soap in your arms.

"Come on, baby. Need ta cum again. Just this once, please." Soap would beg as tear pooled in his eyes.

You look at the pout on his face as tears stream down his cheek. A new found energy courses through you. With all the strength you can muster, you flip Soap onto his back and begin slamming into him.

"Johnny, one last time and you let me sleep. Deal?" You snarl, making it clear that it WAS going to be the last one.

Soap nodded, slightly scared how quickly you changed your demeanor. You pulled his knees back till they touch his shoulder. Soap face twists to discomfort than to pleasure as thrust into him without warning.

You were going at it hard and fast, wanting to quickly get things done. Even with the sudden burst of energy you weren't sure how long it would last.

Rythm was no where to be found as you continue to fuck hard into him. Words tumble out of Soap's mouth in incoherent babbles. His velvet walls constrict around you.

You hit deep inside him in this position. He can feel you rearranging his guts. He places his palm on his lower belly, the tip of your cock pushing against it with each thrust. The feeling sends him into the stars, his vision blurry.

With a final thrust, you both come undone.

He got what he wanted though now it feels all too much. His spend cock sits between his folded legs, pathetically weeping out the last few drops of cum.

Pulling out of his gaping hole, Soap whimpers at the lost. You turn to your side tired and finally able to sleep. Your eyes feel like lead and your cock aches.

"Ask again and I'm sending you downstairs with a dildo and I'm locking the door."

With that Soap finally stills for the next, eyes closing as he pulls you close.

This was sitting in my drafts idk if it's any good, I didn't proofread it🤷‍♂️

[thinkingabprice]

helping you fall asleep <3

john price x reader, hair brushing

-

you had been tossing and turning all night, flipping sides in bed every couple of minutes. no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't fall asleep. john lies next to you peacefully, surprisingly not snoring for once and you couldn't help but envy his ability to fall asleep quickly.

you turn over once again before huffing and frustratingly sitting up, rubbing your eyes out of annoyance. you get out of bed and walk to the kitchen and open the fridge, searching for anything that might help you fall asleep faster. unfortunately for you, you ran out of tea and you were meant to head to the grocery store tomorrow, well, really today, as you glance at the clock on the stove reading 3:25am and you can feel the life draining out of you. you and john said goodnight before midnight, how had you not fallen asleep by then?

you close the fridge after a minute of looking over its contents and open it once again, just making sure you didn't miss anything. you didn't. you decide to just drink a cup of water and convince yourself that the water will help you sleep.

soon enough, you make your way back up to bed and lay down but you find yourself tossing and turning once again. you lay on your back as you stare at the ceiling, tears pricking your eyes as you grow more frustrated, a soft sniffle accompanying them.

john shifts against you and you worry that you woke him up somehow and you still for a moment. you think you're in the clear when all of the sudden a deep voice breaks the silence.

"you alright, sweetheart?"

"yea i'm fine just can't sleep is all" you speak quietly and you can hear your voice shake towards the end, the fatigue and frustration catching up to you.

john moves again and you can feel him turn to face you and you turn to him with a frown on your face.

"poor thing come here," he says softly, opening his arms to pull you close.

you allow yourself to be pulled in, and you rest your head comfortably on his chest and his arm wraps around you, his warmth enveloping you whole. his other arm reaches up to your hair, brushing through it softly and the feeling spreads throughout your body, you couldn't feel more peaceful.

you hadn't even noticed how your eyes grew more tired and soon enough your soft snores filled the room and john smiled to himself as he realized you had fallen asleep. he holds you even tighter to him and he doesn't stop stroking your hair, even though he knows you don't need it anymore.

you wake up the next morning expecting to be met with an empty bed, john always started his day before you, but you were surprised to feel his arms around you still, his position almost completely unchanged from when you fell asleep hours earlier. you move against him and he rubs your arm gently, turning to you with a smile.

"slept well?"

"mhm," you smile up at him snuggling even closer to him than before and he happily holds you tighter as you close your eyes again.

john noticed your watery eyes the night before and at that moment he knew he was staying with you no matter what. you shouldn't be crying over something so trivial like not being able to sleep and he was determined to make sure you didn't wake up until you were ready.

it didn't matter if he woke up a few hours before you, he was content with you just laying comfortably by his side and it melted his heart even more knowing that he was able to help you so easily.

the next night when you two got into bed john was quick to hold you in his arms, making sure to brush your hair softly. he wasn't going to let you stay up trying to fall asleep again.

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #19

"I hate it here! It's cold and wet—I hate being locked in the basement!"

Your captor hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as you stumbled over your words, your anger making it hard to form sentences. It's only been a few days since you've been kidnapped and taken to an unfamiliar place, locked in a dark basement, and ogled at your captor's pleasure. But you were fed up with this treatment!

"The food tastes like shit, and I keep feeling bugs and spiders crawl over me! It's enough! I don't know what I did to you, but this has to end, please!"

Tears were dripping from your eyes, your voice cracking as you were overcome with emotions. You reached up to wipe them away, but they were quickly replaced with more, your eyes unleashing the floodgates without you having any say.

"I'm scared; I want to go home," you whimpered, and you heard your captor sigh, his steps coming closer. You flinched hard when you felt his arms wrap around your body, pulling you close. In stark contrast to you, he smelled pleasant—someone seemed to have the opportunity to shower.

You felt crazy when you buried your face in his chest, accepting the hug, relieved that he wasn't touching you inappropriately. He was also warm, so damn warm! Everything about this made you angry, but all you could do was continue crying into his shirt, spitefully hoping it would stain.

How could someone be so cruel yet treat you so kindly, his hand rubbing up and down your back comfortingly? He didn't push you away, no matter how much you must have stunk after days without showering, and he gently brushed out the knots in your hair while he let you cry your frustrations into his chest.

"There, there," he mumbled calmly as the tears began to dry out, and you wanted to kick him in the shin now that he was close enough to hurt him like he had hurt you. But it also felt like a childish rebuke, even though he deserved it.

"You can come upstairs with me. There's heating, and we can cook your favorite meal. Also, I have a TV and books waiting for you."

His sudden suggestion surprised you. You opened your mouth to agree but luckily stopped yourself in time, so you didn't agree blindly right away. There must be a catch if he suddenly offered you this change of scenery after being so dismissive and cold towards your complaints before. You already knew he was up to no good, so could this perhaps be another trick?

"Can I really?" you asked, carefully probing at the possibility of leaving this horrible basement. Going into detail on how he mistreated you and how you deserved at least that mucht might just upset him again, and who-knows-what would happen if he was the one to get angry. It didn't help the feeling of submitting to him and his whims, but you liked the idea of at least not being isolated down here anymore.

Your captor pushed you away slightly, and you looked up at him, noticing the faint grin playing on his lips in the dim light of the basement. He looked at you with the madness of a movie killer, but his touch remained gentle, and his eyes even softened when he looked at you.

"Of course. I hate seeing you unhappy. I told you I'm doing all of this for you, didn't I? If you feel ready to accept me the same way I do you, we can finally be a family, hang out, and talk. I'd love to show you the new bed I got for us, it's so nice and comfy, and I'll buy you all the things you always wanted but couldn't! That is, of course, as long as you behave appropriately. Would hate to have to send you back down here."

That wasn't what you wanted at all! Sure, going up there inevitably meant you'd see more of him, but you never intended to play house with this man! "What if... I don't want that?" you asked hesitantly, noticing his grip tensing tightly around you.

"Maybe it's too early still..." he muttered, disappointment dripping like venom audible in every word. "You still don't know what is good for you."

With that, he let go of you, walking away with a sour look on his face and stomping up the staircase as if he was a spoiled brat whose fun got ruined.

"W-Wait!" you called out, running towards the end of the staircase, your ankle chain rattling as you stretched it out full. To your surprise, he stopped, looking back over his shoulder condensendingly. "You'll buy me everything I want? Can't we just start there, maybe try to make this basement less... icky?"

"Oh?" he hummed, turning around and leaning against the railing. And what's in it for me? Are you going to treat me to something I want if I do that for you? My offer was already quite generous. Aren't you going to give me something for your demands?"

"What... would you like?"

Another thoughtful hum escaped him as he thought briefly. Not long enough to make you believe he hadn't considered this before, but in this negotiation, you'd always draw the short straw, so it didn't really matter. Your captor walked back down two steps, standing just out of reach.

"I'll get my phone, and then you'll sit on my lap—you can't get up until I tell you to—while we order three things you want. You stay in this basement until they are delivered, and then you have to fulfill a wish of mine in exchange for each of the items. So, three wishes in total."

You gulped. Honestly, it sounded almost worse than playing house with this crazed bastard, especially with him grinning smugly as he talked about the wishes. You wanted to inquire more, get all the details but he cut you off, wagging his finger at you as if he knew what you were going to ask.

"Ah-ah," he chuckled, "It's a surprise! But you can choose: Come upstairs with me or earn yourself some comfort down here. Of course, you can also stay in the basement indefinitely without comfort, but you should stop complaining when I have given you so many options, or I might just get angry with you."

Chewing on your lip, you thought for a moment, his grin widening as he watched you contemplate your options. Of course he'd find enjoyment in your struggles—that was just the kind of psycho he was.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[mattslolita]

okay so idk if you’re taking request cs if ur not im soo sorry but i CRAVEEEE toxic babydaddy chris or matt like imagine yall imagine😔🙌🏾

dilemma - c. sturniolo

in which ... you can't stand chris's new girl in the picture, and you both realize how much you miss each other especially for your daughter. ( baby daddy!chris x black!fem reader )

warnings : angst, toxic!baby daddy!chris, crying, smut, riding, nipple play, unprotected piv ( wrap it freaks ), fluff in the end :3

"𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒅𝒐, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ

"alaijah baby, i need you to stay still, please!" you pleaded with your daughter, attempting to grip her unruly curls as she brushed her hair softly.

"mama, when daddy coming?" alaijah babbles, a soft smile on her face as she toys with the bottle of hairspray on the bed which keeps causing her to move around.

a lump forms in your throat at the question, but you attempt to give her a tight-lipped smile anyway. "I'm dropping you off my love, remember? we're getting ice cream on the way."

"ice cweam!" alaijah giggles excitedly, causing her to topple over the oil sheen which tumbles off the bed.

you groan and shake your head, losing the grip you had on her ponytail as you bent down to pick up the oil sheen — the thing that annoyed you was the fact that if it was her dad combing her hair, she was obedient with him. she never gave him problems when he was the one doing her hair, and it made you frustrated.

after picking the bottle up and setting it back down on the bed, you opened candy crush saga on your phone and handed it to your one year old girl, who happily took your phone and sat snug in between your legs.

with a satisfied smile, you begin to brush her hair again, thankfully having no more problems — that is, until your phone rings and you look down to see alaijah's dad trying to facetime you.

"daddy!" alaijah shrieks, a huge smile breaking out over her face.

you didn't want to talk to him, but you weren't going to deprive your daughter — so against your better judgement, you swipe up and accept the call.

"lay, hi sweetheart!" chris smiles at his daughter through the screen, and internally making your heart melt.

"daddy! hi!" alaijah giggles, scrunching her nose cutely as she waves at him through the screen, "miss you!"

"i miss you too, angel," chris says, his beam even brighter at the sight of her, "you ready for this weekend?"

"yah!" alaijah nods happily, poking at the phone, "daddy, say hi to mommy!"

rolling your eyes, you try to move yourself out of the camera's lens especially when you see chris's smug smile on the screen. "hi, momma."

you make a stank face at him and continue doing alaijah's hair, but the one year old makes a pouty face at you when she realizes you didn't answer him.

"mommy, daddy said hi!" alaijah presses, causing you to let out a sigh.

"yeah, daddy says hi," chris smirks, and you can feel your cheeks warm up despite the unwillingness of it all.

"yeah, hey," you said sharply, shooting him a glare through the screen as you're now getting started on alaijah's baby hairs.

"c'mon y/n/n, be a little nicer to daddy," chris continues, causing alaijah to giggle and you to groan.

you put your hands over alaijah's ears gauging a confused expression from her. "shut the fuck up, christopher."

chris just laughs and shakes his head as you uncover alaijah's ears, and she continues to look down at the screen excitedly — you continue watching as your daughter and chris talk for a little bit more, and you can't help but smile a few times at the way chris looked at her with so much love and admiration. it makes you wish you two had never broken up, otherwise you would've been a real family.

you pulled up to chris's house and sighed, looking at alaijah in the rearview mirror — she grinned at you excitedly as she seen that you both had arrived at her dad's house.

you quickly get out of the driver's seat of your car and open the back door on that side, unbuckling alaijah from her car seat and picking her up.

"daddy house!" alaijah beams excitedly, as you close the car door and move to the trunk where her overnight bag was.

"yes, are you excited baby?" you ask her with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and she nodded with a giggle.

her overnight bag was on your shoulder and you internally groaned as you made your way towards the front door of his house — alaijah immediately reached out to press the doorbell, and you could feel her excited nerves radiating from her which made you smile at her again.

you almost dropped your daughter from your hands when you saw what opened the door — a blonde woman who looked to be your age, dressed in skimpy ass clothing which had you heated. you could tell she had extensions in her hair, and you scoffed at how cheap they looked.

"can i help you?" she snarks with an attitude, a hand on her hip as she gives you a once over.

"i know damn well this bitch is not..." you scoff, shaking your head, then looking back up at her, "girl, i'm here to drop off his daughter. who the fuck is you?"

"i'm his girlfriend," she says, boastful smirk on her face, and your heart drops and your face visibly hardens at this.

"did i ask, hoe?" you say to her, taking a step closer causing her to step back slightly, "get the fuck out my way before-"

"what's going on?" chris's voice suddenly comes, causing your blood to boil. damn, he looked so fine.

"you better check your bitch before i do," you say to him, causing the blonde girl to narrow her eyes at you as chris pushes her to the side.

"daddy!" alaijah says excitedly, reaching her arms out for him.

"hi baby!" chris coos to his daughter, taking her from your arms as he brings her close to him, "i missed you!"

you watch the sweet interaction with a yearning heart, but you seeth when you see the way the blonde girl looks at him with just as much adoration as you do — chris looks between both of you with an amused expression, and you could just give him a right hook right now.

"look, my daughter's here, can you both not come for each other?" chris says with raised eyebrows.

you fully turn to face him now, crossing your arms over your chest. he takes your figure up and down unashamedly, and you try to keep yourself from smirking as you realize you still had that effect on him. "that broad better not go nowhere near my baby, christopher."

"still using that full name on me?" chris scoffs with an amused smile, shaking his head. "i'll see you sunday night, alright?"

you quickly leaned up towards alaijah to press a kiss to her cheek, caressing it as she smiled at you. "i'll see you soon baby, okay? have fun."

"bye mommy, i love you!" alaijah tells you.

"i love you more."

without waiting for anyone to say anything else, you make your way towards your car, giving your hips a little extra sway as you knew chris would be drooling as he watched you walk away. you were proven right when you went to get in your car and chris had definitely been watching after you. you smirked as the blonde girl gave him a look of disbelief at the action, and you drove away, still feeling angry upon seeing her in the first place.

sunday night couldn't have come fast enough — you were bored and somewhat lonely without the comfort of your daughter with you, but you were able to run a few errands.

chris texted you and told you he would drop alaijah back off at your house, and you scoffed and only replied with an "ok." you knew it would piss him off, but how could he be the one upset?

soon, a familiar engine lowly rumbled outside of your house and you felt somewhat nervous because you knew it was chris. you heard the car door open then close, and footsteps slowly approach your porch until a knock on the door sounded.

almost too quickly you answered, and your heart warmed at the sight of chris holding your daughter in his arms tightly, her head laid on his neck with her eyes closed.

"she's asleep," chris said, swiping at his nose then nodding towards her, "can i go lay her down?"

you nodded wordlessly, stepping aside so that chris could walk in with her. he knows your house like that back of his hand ( nevermind the fact he used to live there with you! ) — he makes his way to your room, but you don't follow him.

instead, you cross your arms and sit at a barstool at your kitchen table, tapping her fingers along your arm as you wait the treacherous minutes it takes for your ex boyfriend to say his goodbyes to his daughter.

he emerges from your used to be shared room and grins at you, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. "what the fuck are you looking at?"

"i know you're still mad, y/n," chris shrugs nonchalantly, taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

"boy what are you talking about?" you say with a roll of your eyes, crossing her arms tighter on your chest.

"you're mad about lexi," chris says, egging it on, as he knows you're seething right now.

"oh, so the bitch got a name now, too?" you say, scoffing and shaking your head.

"you mad cause i'm fucking another bitch?" chris smirks, and you whip your head up at him at this remark.

without any warning, you stand up and quickly walk over to chris, yanking him by the arm and pulling him towards the couch in the living room — she shoves the man back on it, immediately going to straddle him as he looks up at her with a smirk and an amusement in his eyes.

"y'know lay's asleep, right?" chris tsks, rubbing the sides of her bare thighs which caused goosebumps to raise on her skin.

"then you better shut the fuck up," you say.

you smashed your lips onto chris's, having been craving this feeling again for so long — his hands immediately went to grope your ass which prompted a gasp to leave your lips and chris to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

you grinded down against his hard on, which you felt poking through his jeans as it so desperately wanted to be free. never breaking eye contact with him, you lifted your his shirt above your head and threw it behind you, and chris went to unclip your bra causing your perfectly round breasts to spill out.

"fuck, i missed seeing your pretty tits, ma," chris groans, immediately attaching his lips to your left tit whilst he massages the other.

"mhm chris," you breathe out, throwing your head back as he switches, giving attention to the other tit.

you grind down on him again, making the both of you moan at the contact. "pull your pants down."

you get up and take your shorts off, also giving chris enough time to slip out of his jeans and boxers, revealing his large, veiny cock which already leaked with precum — your mouth salivates at the sight.

you pull down your panties revealing your wet cunt, to which chris lets out a groan and strokes himself, but you narrow your eyes at him and smack his hand away, going to hover over his cock.

your hands find their way to chris's shoulders, latching onto them as you slowly sink yourself onto him, pulling a moan from the both of you.

"fuck, you're so big!" you whine, the stretch burning being that you haven't felt him inside you in a long time.

"so tight baby," chris groans in your ear, guiding you with his hands.

once he's fully inside you, you begin to move back and forth on his cock, the veins in his hands now prominent with the grip he held on your sides. "fuck baby, just like that!"

"you feel so good, oh my gosh," you moan out, throwing your head as you pick up your rhythm, bouncing up and down on his cock.

chris meets you halfway, thrusting up into you pulling multiple whines from you as he hits your sweet spot over and over again.

"fucking me so good ma, i missed your pussy," chris moans, leaving sloppy kisses to your neck.

"m'close, christopher," you moan out, keeping your steady pace.

"yeah?" chris groans in your ear, "come on baby, let go fa me."

it doesn't take you long before your orgasm comes crashing through you, your juices spilling over chris's cock and a loud moan of his name falls past your lips.

this sends him over the edge too, and hot spurts of his seed spill inside of you, mixing your juices together. he helps both of you ride out your orgasm, then you quickly get off of him to catch your breath.

he pulls you back towards him and shoves a finger inside your pussy to keep his cum in there, eliciting a gasp from you as you look at him with disbelief whilst he grins at you.

"what the fuck?" you gasp out.

"need my seed inside you, so you know who's yours," chris grins at you.

he takes his finger out then stands up, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the bathroom — he wordlessly grabs a towel and wets it, and you can feel tears from in your eyes as he does so.

none of this meant it was going to last long — he was going right back to the same boyfriend he was before, which was the ultimate reason you broke up in the first place. but you couldn't help the way you still loved him.

"please don't cry," chris says, breaking you out of the trance you didn't realize you were in.

"why shouldn't i, chris?" you sniffle, as he wipes your legs delicately, "it's not like we're getting back together."

chris could feel his heart break at the words you said, causing him to hang his head — it was his fault, and he couldn't believe he'd ever let someone like you go. he was so scared of fucking up, that he fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.

"i miss you," you admit.

"i missed you even more, y/n," chris says, lifting your chin so that you could see in his eyes. and for once, there was a trace of sincerity in those blue depths. "i can't believe i broke our family up like this. i fucked up really bad, baby. but i want us to be a family."

"you mean that, baby?" you look up at him with a smile, and he wipes the tears away from your eyes, nodding.

"of course, ma. i love you so much."

he leans down and places a kiss to your lips — but this time it was sweet, but yearning. he missed both of his girls, and he was glad he had them back.

after cleaning you up chris grabs your hand again and leads you towards the bedroom, where alaijah is sound asleep in the middle of where you both used to lay.

you climb on side and chris on the other, and as if sensing the presence of her dad, alaijah moves towards chris like a magnetic touch, and he puts his arm around his daughter looking down at her with nothing but love and admiration.

you smile at him with your head propped up on the pillow, and he looks at you — he affectionately taps your nose, causing you to giggle as you take his hand, placing a soft kiss to it.

"goodnight, baby," you tell him, and he leans in to place another kiss to your lips.

"goodnight, my love," chris says back.

you get under the covers with them, moving close towards alaijah in the process to wrap your own arm around the girl, too — chris places another sweet kiss to both of your foreheads, finally at peace knowing he was with his number one girls again.

( lilly's section 💌 )

two fics in one night, who is she😳🙏? i hope y'all enjoy this, i love u so much muah💌.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333

[subbmissivesuccubus]

I will get on all fours and bark for you to make the “oh my god you were going to die” thing but with the upper moons and muzan 😭🙏(IT SUCKS THAT WE CANT ADD LINKS)

Thank you guys for 3K followers! I'm glad so many of you enjoy my stuff and I can't wait to keep providing more smut to feed <3

By popular demand, here's part 2 of this! Enjoy~

Disclaimer : Fem Reader X Muzan | Kokushibo | Akaza | Douma | Hantengu clones

As a demon living an immortal life, you knew that death and hell wasn't something you were going to experience anytime soon.

But unfortunately for you, your husband seems insistent on giving you a preview.

You tried to take in deep breaths, having never felt this exhausted even when fighting against demon slayers who were actively trying to kill you. You don't even remember why your partner was mad at you! Sure, you didn't manage to kill the Hashira you recently fought but you came back alive! Isn't that a thing worthy of celebration?

Instead, he took you to the bedroom to really teach your the consequences of failure.

Which is how you found yourself naked, sweaty and exhausted, lying flat on your back as your brain started to work again- just to realize your husband was sliding between your legs to start another round, jerking his cock as he got ready to slip inside you once more.

You gasped and on instinct started to move away, your elbows digging into the mattress as you pathetically dragged yourself towards the headboard to try and get some distance but-

Muzan suddenly shifted positions, your brain so muddled by the pleasure and over stimulation that you didn't realize you were now straddling him until he slapped your tits harshly. He was angry- his eyes glowing that dangerous red that usually got you hot and bothered but now- sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Not only did you let a Hashira escape- but now you're trying to run from him?

He won't have it.

"Ride me. Now." he said, hands on your hips as his cock stood erect underneath you, throbbing in anticipation, covered in your sticky juices.

"M-My Lord-" you babbled, tears filling your eyes and you didn't dare to try and escape again, "I-I can't. Too s-sensitive-"

"Ride my cock or you won't live to see tomorrow."

With a broken sob, you quickly placed one hand on Muzan's chest, your body crying for a break as the other one slid underneath you to grab his cock and keep it steady, your poor thighs trembling as you lifted yourself up before sinking down on his member. You knew his threat was empty but...it was always best to not risk it.

Kokushibo noticed you were about to crawl away but instead of grabbing your hips and pulling you back like you expected he would, his hand instead shot out to clamp around your neck. You gasped, air caught in your throat as his many eyes narrowed at you, giving you a look of disappointment as you writhed against his choking. Did you necessarily need air to live? No. Was it uncomfortable? Yes.

Was it sexy? Also yes-

"What do you say?"

Your face was turning red, tears prickling your eyes as his fingers seem to tighten. "S-Sorry- m' s-sorry-" you managed to choke out despite his best attempts.

"Good girl. Now present yourself to me."

With his hand still on your neck, your spread your legs wide, even bringing your hands down to push apart your pussy lips, baring you every inch of your cum stuffed cunt. With a grunt of approval, Kokushibo slipped inside you, giving you a break as he let go of your neck just as he started his intense pace.

"D-Darling- oh fuck- please-" you babbled between gasps and pants, tits bouncing as your poor cunt was once again pounded within an inch of her life, not even given a minute to rest and recover.

"Cease your pointless crying." he simply stated, his abs flexing as he rutted into you, "If you find it so unpleasant, don't fail next time."

Akaza is usually so sweet when you two have sex. But when he's frustrated with you- he will let. you. know.

The second he saw you trying to move away from him, he grabbed you by the knees before flipping you onto you stomach like you weighed nothing. The next moment, he was lying on top of you, his body weight keeping you pinned down as he slipped his cock back inside you in a classic prone bone. You squealed, unable to move as he started rolling his hips into you, the position making his cock reach deep- deep- deep inside you.

"A-Akazaaaa-" you squeal, your cries a bit muffled by the mattress, "S-slow down- please-c-can't take it-"

"You can't take it?" Akaza growled into your ear, rolling his hips in circles so his fat tip can bully your g-spot mercilessly, "No wonder you couldn't kill that Hashira. If you can't handle- hah- this, then you can't handle a battle. So consider this your training, my love."

"P-Please- I just need a break- I can't- ah fuck- you're so deep!"

"You can take it. Be my good girl. Besides, our Lord wants to know if you can get pregnant, remember? You're not getting away from me until you're knocked up."

Douma simply laughed as he watched you try and escape him, his kaleidoscopic eyes twinkling even more beautifully than usual as his sadistic tendencies got satiated seeing your fear and exhaustion. But of course, he wasn't going to let you go. With a flick of the wrist, you gasped as your ankles were suddenly encased in ice that trailed down to the floor, keeping you in place. You could try to break out of it, but your husbands hand on your cunt rid you of all thoughts except for pleas.

"D-Douma- honey- please-"

"Shhhh, sweet thing." He purred, giving your kitty gentle pets, "I'm just going to teach you a lesson before I breed you again~ Let's make this pretty pussy as red as your ass is, hmm?"

"No please- i'll be good- I promise!"

"Why are you so scared honey?" Douma asked in mock concern, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout as he cooed at you, "Oh, you really don't like it when I spank your cunt, do you? It hurts so badly, doesn't it?"

"Yes- it hurts so much!" you complained, your eyes welling up with tears at the threat. You loved it when he punished you but fuck- it hurt!

"Poor sweet thing! I have an idea then." you watched as an ice cube materialized in his hand, clutched between his fingers as he said:

"How about we make her numb first then?"

It was difficult enough to take on the Hantengu clones even when they were being nice, but when they were punishing you? It was downright impossible. But they didn't care.

"And where do you think you're going, missy?" Urogi asked, a grin on his face as he slid in to sit behind you, quickly stopping your attempt at getting away. He grabbed your arms and pulled them above your head, catching your wrists with one hand and restraining you.

"Is it too much for you?" Karaku teased on your right, holding your knee and pushing it open to expose your sex. His hand slid between your legs and his fingers glided between your pussy lips, cooing as he made contact with your slick and cum, "Your poor, sweet cunny is all fucking and stuffed huh? Must be so difficult to take more~"

Aizetsu whined even as he bent down to take your left nipple into his mouth, whining even more as you squealed at the sensation of his tongue against your raw, sensitive nipple. "M-Maybe we should give her a break..." he suggested after giving your bud a few sucks, still laying his head against the fat of your breast as he pulled at your left knee, "We've made her cum...and cum inside her so many times...i'm sure she's learned her lesson."

Before you could latch onto Aizetsu's words and beg for mercy, Sekido slid between your legs, his frown even angrier if that was even possible. He glared at you as he tugged at his cock, clicking his tongue as you tried to wiggle your hips away when he pressed his tip against your entrance.

"Don't you dare try to fucking run away." he snarled as he pushed into you, his cock sliding back into your poor, fucked out cunt. You gasped, tossing your head back against Urogi's shoulder as you were filled up once more, instantly knowing that you had pissed off Sekido by your anticts by his instant break-neck pace.

"You're only done when we say you're done." Karaku purred against your ear, licking said ear as Sekido pounded your pussy, making you babble stupidly as his cock slammed against your cervix, "And you're not going to be done for a long time~"

[miirohs]

écoute chérie [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Assistant!Reader wc: 3.2k cw: assult, possesive behavior (standard for a mob au at this point), bro straight up kills someone, dubcon (again icarus?), shitty french an: i absolutely cannot write but anyways if this flops i'm deleting it and then crying!!! also do you guys ever just write y/n and put her in predicaments and then go womp womp as if you didn't just do that to her? yeah.

It was fairly obvious from the subtle twitch in his jaw, to the shadow cast over his eyes by strands of his hair falling in front, that he wasn’t happy. From the moment you both had left the guarded gates of his mansion, his face has been set in a stony silence.

You’d seen him glance over at you multiple times during the length of the car ride, and it was becoming harder to ignore his erratic behavior.

Just as he looked away you reached for him, startling him from his distracted state as you moved to fix his suit, readjusting his crooked tie and straightening out the collar of his suit. Immediately you snapped back up to him looking at you, a curious look on his face.

“You should be more careful with your suits.” You chastised softly, snapping back to your seat as the heat rose to your face. “Tossing and turning around like that will probably make it wrinkle up.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you the smallest smile he could muster. You could still see the upset in his eyes as he looked at you, and you came to a slow realization of what might’ve been upsetting him.

“Are you mad with me for coming along with you?”

His smile faded a little, the frustration in his eyes visible. He never wanted this for you, but he knew he couldn’t stop you from coming along, so he resorted to simply reminding you why he didn’t want to bring you.

“Mon coeur, I’m not mad at you at all. I'm just hesitant because I know what my people are like.”

You sighed, readjusting the straps of your dress as you looked at him. “Yes Charles, you’ve made that exceptionally clear but i don’t think you quite had a choice. Carlos didn’t even want to talk about going with you.” 

He winced at your tone, tilting his head at you as he bent his own head down to your level. “I know I keep saying this, but you don’t know them like I do. I don't want you leaving my side, not to anywhere I cannot see you chérie. Do you understand?”

You took one of his hands in yours, nodding along to keep his anxiety in check. “Fine, I wasn’t planning on going just anywhere, I came with you because that's my job.”

“And your job is?”

“To be with you, twenty-four seven, whenever you need me.” You said teasingly as a cheeky smile graced his face once again, slightly more genuine than the last.

The car came to a stop, and you looked at each other, turning to the door of the car. 

“Ladies first.”

You rolled your eyes at him, obliging to climb out first as the door opened.

Your jaw dropped as you looked up to the entrance of the building. You didn’t think you were quite aware this level of grandeur could be possible, and you were honestly expecting something more inconspicuous.

Linking up his arm in yours, Charles bent down a little as you started walking, whispering into your ear.

“You look surprised. I bet you weren’t expecting this, huh?”

“Surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s gorgeous.”

“Wait till you see the inside.”

You continued with him, eyes growing wider at the inside.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, intricate detailing all over the grand foyer as you surveyed the walls.

Charles walked with you through corridors, once again tensing up, evident in the tightness of his grip on your arm. You could see an ornate set of doors at the end of the hall, approaching them slower and slower.

You paused at the door, looking up to him as he inhaled deeply.

“Are you-”

“Ready? Of course I am.” He didn’t look at you, but you gave no further thought to his words as the doors opened, the crowds of people gathered visible from the mezzanine you both stood on. The ballroom almost glittered, light bouncing off almost every corner of the room.

“Char, if i had known this was going to be fancy, i would’ve dressed up better.” You said, aghast as he shook his head, looking at you with a hint of affection in his smile.

“You’re dazzling no matter what, mon coeur. There’s no need to worry, you’ll be just fine.”

“I- Alright.” You agreed hesitantly, arm slipping from his as you followed him down the stairs.

There were so many bodies on the floor you had a hard time following him, resorting to holding onto his sleeves to navigate through the crowds. He greeted people, and you did the same in his stead, unsure where exactly you were headed. Suddenly, Charles came to a stop in front of you, and you slammed into him, stumbling back slightly. 

“Charles, what just happened, I...” You paused as he stood motionless, stepping to peer from behind him.

Another man stood there, head tilted as you curiously as you moved to Charles side. He wore all black, jacket embroidered with flowers and a necklace that resembled a thorn necklace. He seemed fancy, but something about the way he looked at you made it feel like you were being microanalyzed by him.

“Lewis.”

“Charles. A pleasure seeing you again.”

He nodded, relaxing slightly as the man took his hand, shaking it firmly.

“And who might this be?”

You waved, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I’m-”

“She’s my assistant.”

“Char, calm down.” You chided, ignoring how his tone almost instantly seemed to become sharp, nose flaring slightly. Clearly Lewis noticed as well, raising his eyebrow at how his tone seemed to change so suddenly.

“I’m sorry, my name is Y/n. I’m his assistant, as he mentioned before.” He took your hand, offering you a kiss to the knuckles with a smile.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/n. Are you new or…?”

“This is her first social event with me.” Charles butt in, arms crossed over as Lewis grinned at him. “Hm, I figured half as much. I haven’t seen much of her around, you should bring her more often. She seems pleasant.”

“Wonderful. Now is there anything else you want?” Charles answered, tone short and clipped as you frowned at his sudden defensiveness. Lewis hummed knowingly, sparing you a glance before he went back to talking to Charles.

“The negotiations are upstairs. We were just waiting for you to start, and I think Carlos got here maybe twenty minutes before you?”

He nodded curtly in response, taking your hand as he started moving.

Lewis looked down at him though as he shook his head, pointing to your hands.

“Sorry to break it to you mate, but she can’t come with us.”

“Why not?” Charles snapped, clearly annoyed by his sudden announcement.

“It’d be better for the both of you. I doubt you want her in on the grizzly details, it would only put her at risk, more so than working for you. Leave one of your guards with her if you want to, although I promise she’ll be just fine here.” He knew he couldn’t argue with that, it was apparent in the way his face fell at the realization.

“I have to go now, but we'll be waiting for you upstairs.” Lewis said as he waved goodbye to you, turning on his heel to leave the both of you alone to the side.

Charles sighed, glowering at the man's back as he turned to you.

“Écoute chérie (listen darling), it seems like Lewis has a point.” He started, reluctance written all over his expression. “So I'm leaving you here with one of the guards. I don't want you to put yourself in any unnecessary danger, so please keep them with you and talk instantly if anything happens.”

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t disappointed, but it did make sense to you. "I understand, Char, I'll be here when you come back."

He visibly relaxed, though there was still a hint of concern in his eyes. "Thank you, chérie. I promise I won't be long."

You gave him a small smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

With a short squeeze of your hand, Charles reluctantly left your side, disappearing into the crowd once more. 

Left alone with the guard that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, you took a deep breath, turning around to him.

"Looks like it's just you and me for now," you said, trying to break the ice with the bodyguard, who simply blinked at you.

“Not one to talk much, huh?” He cleared his throat, bashfully turning his eyes away from you.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but i'm pretty sure Mr. Leclerc wouldn’t like me looking at you.” You stifled a sigh, simply flashing a smile at him.

“Would you like to have a drink with me then…?”

“Ollie.” He finished, even more bashful than before as scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I'm sorry ma’am. I don’t think I'm allowed to drink on the job, Mr. Leclerc would kill me if something happened to you.”

Awkward silence filled the air as you sighed, looking around the ballroom.

You didn’t think there was anyone you could talk to other than him, so you were stuck with him for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t half bad either, but he followed you quite closely, almost as if carefully noting every single thing you were doing. Even as you made minor convos, he stood beside you, too close for it to be comfortable for either of you. He took his job seriously, a little too seriously, you thought.

At some point, you paused, turning around to him with your hands crossed over your chest.

"Ollie, do you have orders to stand so close? It's making me feel a bit claustrophobic."

He blinked, obviously taken aback by your directness. "I'm sorry miss. I was just told to keep an eye on you, Mr. Leclerc's orders."

You nodded, slight frustration rising up as he mentioned Charles' name. "I appreciate your dedication, but I promise I won't just wander off.”

He hesitated, yet still nodded to your request. "Is there anything I can do then?"

A lightbulb seemed to go off in your head as he asked, a grin stretching across your face as you looked at him.

"I think I'll go get a drink. Would you mind keeping an eye on things here until I come back?"

he relented with a nod, albeit with a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Alright, but please don't wander too far. I'll be right here waiting for you to get back."

You nodded sweetly, yet as soon as you left his field of vision, you grabbed a glass off a tray, pushing gently through the crowds.

You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but there was rarely ever a time where you drank because of your job.

Before you knew it, you’d finished off the glass, abandoning it on the buffet table and grabbing another one as you made your way back into the crowd.

At some point you saw Ollie again, distracted as he talked to two other boys of his same age. You decided not to interrupt, walking past them and slipping through the open doors on the opposite end of the hall.

The air was cool, fragrant from all the flowers planted around the place. As you wandered along the winding paths, you observed the little statues and carefully trimmed hedges, detailing meticulously crafted to fit the vibes of the garden.

But your peace was short-lived, as the unmistakable sound of footsteps grew louder. Turning around, you were met with the leering faces of a group of men, their laughter echoing through the night air as they drunkenly stumbled through the hedges. They were creating a ruckus loud enough to attract a crowd.

You froze, not a sound escaping your lips as you looked at them.

Clearly they hadn’t noticed you, so you took a step back, hoping to get away.

Something snapped under your heel and they all stopped acting buck wild, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Ouh, Qui est cette femme, juste là (ooh, who's that woman right there)?”

Shock ran through your veins as the one who spoke pointed to you, eyes turning towards you in a moment. A couple laughed, one of them whistled, all of them looking you up and down like a piece of meat.

“I think she might be one of those escort people they hire at parties y’know… you think we should greet her?”

Their leering gazes made your skin crawl. 

Quickly you turned on your heel, heading in the opposite direction, hoping to lose them quickly as you attempted to get back. Your heart pounded in your chest as you continued, their drunken roasts getting farther from you. You still felt paranoid, but you were pretty sure you had lost them.

As you turned around, a hand shot out from the darkness, grabbing hold of your wrist harshly. You were whirled around to face your assailant, one of the men from the group you’d seen earlier, one of the ones who had whistled at you.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" he sneered, drunken breath hot against your face as he sneered at you, a wicked grin on his face. 

He had you cornered against one of the hedges, and you had nowhere to run as he got closer, trying to grab your other hand.

“You’re cute, you think the boss would like it if we sent him back a little present like you-”

You panicked, kicking wildly until you landed a kick to his nuts, breaking free from his grip around your wrists as he staggered back in pain.

“You bitch-!”

The sound of a warning shot silenced his swears of pain, the only thing you could hear now being the buzzing in your ear.

You turned your head, Charles saying something, but you couldn’t exactly hear it as he approached, an angry yet relieved loon on his face.

“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?!”

You didn’t respond and he knew why, turning to look across from you at the man who glared at the both of you in anger.

"We'll discuss this later," he said, tone softer this time as he turned his attention back to you, helping you up onto a cold stone bench.

“You. Get lost. Don’t let me see you here ever again.”

"Or what?" The man spat, voice dripping with contempt at Charles' order. "You think you can scare me off with your empty threats?"

“I don’t think it’ll be so empty if i-,” He pulled out his gun from the waistband of his pants, aiming it at the mans groin, then moving to his head, “-happen to give you a demonstration of what exactly happens when you fuck with something of mine.”

The color drained from the man's face. Maybe he had just come to realize who he was fucking with.

“She was yours? I’m sorry, I didn't know!” 

“Save it.” He hissed, cocking the gun and aiming it directly at his head. “I’ll make sure that you les fils de putes never see the light of day again.”

It was over in the blink of an eye, with just the sound of a gun being fired, followed by the thumping of a body.

You hadn’t even realized it when he came to you, wrapping his jacket around you as he picked you up, allowing to you bury your face in his neck.

"I've got you," he whispered. "You'll be fine now."

As he turned to exit, Lewis had finally shown up, standing at the entrance with an eyebrow raised at the dead body then you.

“Do i get to ask-”

“No.” Charles answered stonily. voice clearly agitated as he responded to Lewis. “Make sure those creeps get taken care of. I already had the pleasure of taking care of one of them.”

“Duly noted. It was nice seeing you, and you must be busy with… her, so I’ll be off to take care of the others then.” He said, as he signaled to his bodyguards to comb through the area. 

“Thank you.” He said begrudgingly as he lifted you up once again.

You could feel him retracing his steps, motion blurred until you stopped at the entrance once more, in front of his car.

Gently, he set you down and you still clung to him, shaking slightly as you climbed into the seat. 

He followed after you, directing the man in french as he put an arm around you, pulling you somewhat closer.

“Wh.. what happened to Ollie?”

The look of concern turned to a look of slight annoyance, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

“Even now you’re thinking of someone else, mon coeur. What am i going to do with you?”

You stumbled over your words, yet you were resolute in what you wanted to say.

“Please don’t punish him, i was the one who left him.”

“Don’t worry, no one is getting punished. But you, however-”

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the barrelage of words to hit you, yet nothing did. Instead, one of his hands came up to hold your face, thumb gently stroking your jaw.

“Mon petit coeur, m'écoutes-tu parfois (sweetheart, do you ever listen to me)?”

You opened your eyes, looking at him.

“Do you have any idea how scared I was? That I thought another man took you from me? I warned you what would happen, and yet you still came. See what happened?” His grip on your jaw tightened slightly, tilting your head upwards so you were looking him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You have nothing to apologize for, mon coeur. In fact, it should be me who apologizes." he murmured, his voice soothing compared to his actions.

“But then why…?”

“Je t'aime (I love you). It’s because I love you, I want you. More than anything.”

Charles's lips met yours in a kiss, overpowering the adrenaline in your veins as he titled his head, pushing deeper into the kiss. You could feel his overwhelming warmth as he pulled you closer, body to body in the back of the car.

As you broke it off, the heat rose to your face at the string of saliva connecting you both. You tried to pull away but he only seemed to get closer, eye to eye with you.

"Charles?" you breathed, longing erupting like your heart, beating against the cage of your ribs.

“Listen to me chérie, I should’ve never let you go like that. You’re going to be mine now, that way I can keep you safe, Is that clear?” He murmured against your lips, voice dark yet pleading. You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, lovesick and blinded by adoration.

With a soft sigh, you leaned into him, forehead against his as you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of his embrace.

There was no escaping him. You were his as he was yours. You could never escape, now that he had you like this.

[bittersweet-folder]

~□☆ seventeen imagines:

☆Types of kinks I think Seventeen has [hyung line version]

[ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT JUST FUCK OFF IF YOU DON'T LIKE THINGS LIKE THESE:) ]

[ Maknae line version ]

• masterlist • ps: reader here is a female with vagina and breasts and identifies as a female as well •

☆Seungcheol: (soft dom who goes hard eventually)

Breeding kink: this man wants kids so bad. Of course he'll talk with you about it and if you don't want kids he'll still love to fill you up with your consent of course.

Foreplay: please we all know he radiates big dick energy. Hence he needs to prepare you well before he uses the actual thing.

Very light bondage: loves tying up your hand with a piece of silk cloth

Creampie: he can and will make you cum more than once. And will make you squirt too <3

Praise kink: He. Has. A. Huge. Praise. Kink. He literally worships you and your body and well how good you're doing.

Daddy kink: self explanatory im hoping.

Thigh riding: he loves to see you struggle to get off, on his thigh without his help.

Extras: he's always so ready to try different positions when you tell him to.

☆Jeonghan: (switch with a sub lean who teases you a lot)

Edging: this man loves, literally loves to control your orgasm so that you cum hard later.

Oral fixation: either you are giving him the best head of his life or he's pussy drunk so he's eating you out like there's no tomorrow.

Sensory deprivation: he loves it when you blindfold him he loves the adrenaline rush he gets while anticipating what you might do next.

Pegging: he took a lot of time to open up about this and when he did he had the best experience ever.

Degradation: when he's taking control he will be like "only my fucking cock can make you feel this way and make a moaning mess of you right kitten" and so on<3

Overstimulation: he wants, sorry needs you to push his limits. It goes the same way around for you as well.

Extras: this man is very vocal. He will moan loudly. And has the ability to make you moan loudly as well.

☆Joshua: (the soft yet mean asf dom)

Edging: he loves to see how frustrated you get when he stops and doesn't lets you cum.

Shower sex: very self explanatory I'm hoping

Cockwarming: the warm feeling of your pussy around his cock. He loves it when you squeeze around his cock too.

Dacryphilia: he loves to make you cry on his cock, literally loves to see how desperate you become to reach your orgasms. "Fucking hell you're so pretty when you cry baby" that's what Joshua says.

Squirting: again, he loves to make you cry so he would push your limits a little bit if you give him the consent.

Praise kink: "being such a good girl for me yeah" "you're doing so fucking good baby" "you're driving me crazy do you realize that" yeah this man would go crazy.

Extras:he sometimes would let you ride<3 he would have his hands grabbing your hips while you ride him and cry on his cock<3.

☆Jun: ( soft dom through and through until he's- well- all riled up )

Edging: with his fingers and mouth until he uses the real thing.

Marking: he loves, literally loves to give you hickeys on your neck.

Creampie: he can and will make you cum twice to fill you up.

Overstimulation: he's soo pussy drunk he craves and needs more.

Bondage: he likes tying your hands only if you're okay with it and will try something new as well if you talk about it to him.

Sensory deprivation: he loves to blindfold you. Also he's into wax play

Mirror sex: this man's a menace as we all know. He literally loves the position where you're bent over on the edge of the bed while the mirror right beside the bed displays everything. He'll make you look at yourself while whispering "see how it's me who makes you scream like this baby". Yeah he's a menace.

Extras: he has a thing for you in lingeries because he loves foreplay.

☆Wonwoo (soft to kinda hard dom)

Edging: he enjoys it so much when you get frustrated because he isn't letting you cum. Oh and he will make you cry outta too much pleasure later on.

Dacryphilia: he will make you cry on his cock. No one can stop.

Choking: I hope that's self explanatory or should I say he loves it when silent moans slip from your lips and squirm a bit under him.

Daddy kink: I mean you can't convince me that this man doesn't have a daddy kink.

Degradation: oh he gets cocky on how you're crying on his cock begging for more.

Thigh riding: he loves it when you ride his thigh while hold onto him and he will kiss you while doing so with his hand on your hips while the other hand caressing through your hair.

Very light bondage: like tying your hands or just holding your hands together by the wrist while he thrust hard.

Extras: he has a thing for skirts because he likes how it slides up to your waist during the process and how easy access he gets as well, he can and will make you sit on his lap.

☆Woozi (switch with a dom lean but a switch)

Foreplay: he loves the intimacy of those kisses and touches all over each other's body before the actual thing takes place.

Creampie: this man loves it in a messy way with his cum dripping outta your pussy.

Squirting: told ya he loves it so so messy getting his freaking studio couch wet.

Slight like very slight exhibitionism: since he's fucking you in his studio.

Reverse cowgirl: this man loves literally lovesss groping your ass.

Mommy kink: he has a mommy kink you can't tell me otherwise. He gets very vocal when you ride him. He loves it when you take control and make a mess of him.

Praise kink: showers you with praise and makes you remember that you're the prettiest girl he's ever laid his eyes on.

Extras: he'll make you sit on his cock for hours when he's working. He relishes that warming yet tight feeling of your pussy.

☆Hoshi: (a pure switch with a slight sub lean)

Marking: he loves leaving bite marks and hickeys on your neck and chest.

Mommy kink: he'll moan so fucking loudly and lewdly when you ride and call him a babyboy.

Praise kink: it goes both ways. He showers you with praise. You shower him with praise as well.

Orgasm control: in other words edging. He has to see you struggling to cum. He wants you to beg for it as well.

Oral fixation: he's so pussy drunk too. He'll eat you out as well as finger you until you can't take it any more.

Creampie: another man who loves it so so messy. He'll make you squirt eventually as well and then he'll eat you out just to overstimulate you more.

Overstimulation: the sight of you squirming and crying on how good he makes you feel is literally heaven to him

Extras: he has a great stamina and will go on all night long in various positions until you're crying. He likes to bend you over on the table the most.

~~☆~~

a/n: I'm working on that Hoshi fanfic presently but i can't guarantee you when exactly I'll post.

Also here's the taglist till now: @hongmingoo @shuabby1994 , @nishloves , @unlikelysublimekryptonite , @asyre , @yumiyumis-blog

[If anyone wants to be in the taglist please comment under this post]

[buckgasms]

Hi! Big fan of your work and okay you asked for it but I imagine mean bully!Bucky where he has his eyes on this young agent who just joined the team and she’s just so sweet and shy and he already fell for her when his eyes landed on her. He always secretly steals her underwear and she’s so sweet that she cries when she saw a cat got hurt on the street and Bucky saw her running to Bruce so he can help the cat, BIG MISTAKE cause the way her tears runs down her face he thinks she’s so beautiful and hot and it makes him more horny and so that’s where he starts bullying her just to see her tears and he step it up one day that during training he pinned her down and he can smell her getting turned on so he call her name until she cries but he just continues and put his thigh between her legs and he’s just so mean about it that before she gets any released he stops and ever since he can’t keep his hands off okay sorry if it’s weird

Thanks beautiful nonnie 🩷

Hmm ok so this sounds like a dark!Bucky to me, what with the underwear stealing and loving to watch her cry right?

Which I am certainly happy to accommodate 😈

This went a bit off course but i hope it's ok! It is a bit dark so please proceed with caution! ☢️

I imagine that first night after he sees you really crying, big tears sliding down your cheeks he's got your underwear wrapped around his cock as he fists himself over and over again, just imagining your pretty face and how much he would love to make to cry over and over.

It takes him so long to calm down from it because he just can't control the fire in his belly every time he thinks about you. So sweet and innocent, ready to submit and do whatever your told, take whatever he gives.

I bet he'd constantly tell you to stay late at the gym to work on your punches, belittling you and reminding you how weak you are and how you'd need someone to look after you all the time.

Maybe he sneaks into the showers to listen to your muffled sobs of frustration and tiredness just so he has something new to imagine later that night.

☁️

And maybe one night you are sparring with him and he lands a jab right to your stomach and you drop to the floor, winded and you burst out crying right then and there. He has to keep a straight face because he can't believe how fucking beautiful you look, sobbing and sweaty, laid out in front of him.

He drops to the floor pressing his knee right into your core and leans down, hands either side of your head as he comes in real close.

"How many times have I told you, you aren't up to this. You need protecting little girl..."

You huff and shake your head, pouting a little as you sob. 

"No I don't, you just keep treating me like shit and that last kick hurt..."

He grins before pressing his knee harder into your core and pinning your hands down to the mat. Before you can stop it a little moan escapes your lips, even as your eyes widen in shock.

"Doesn't sound like I'm treating you bad now, does it baby?" You curse as he grinds again, chuckling as you whimper and more tears spring from your eyes.

"Cut it out...let me go..."

He hesitates for a moment before relenting, sitting back on his haunches and watches you walk away in a hurry.

☁️

He wasn't sure if you'd come back again, but there you were bright and early, refusing to back down. 

This time he decided to ignore you. He left you till last each time there was an activity, and would just tut every time you didn't do something perfectly. 

So you tried harder. He could tell by the end you were desperate for some kind of reaction, but he gave you nothing.

When it came time for the hand to hand combat you were positivly fuming. So you kicked and punched and clawed at him with all you might. He had to put up a bit of a fight to keep you off but he did eventually manage to floor you.

He dismissed everyone but you didn't move. When the last person filtered out you were still stood on the mat, panting.

"I'm not done."

He smirked and dropped his kit bag. Squaring up to you on the mat. Before he could reply you lunged at him and scrabbled with each other for a good few minutes before he pinned you again.

"You gonna cry baby?" He mocked as you squirmed and groaned, tears leaking down your cheeks in your anger.

You managed to kick at his crotch, winding him slightly and escaping from his grasp, but he recovered quickly and as you rolled over he slammed his body down on top of you, his breath coming in pants by your ear.

"That wasn't very nice" he growled before manouvering to sit on your legs, gripping your hands behind your back. You continue to squirm and wail as he drags down your shorts and underwear.

"You wanna act like a brat, I'll treat you like one..." His first slap stops your movement and you gasp. He knows this is risky but he doesn't care, he lands spank after spank on your perfect ass, enjoying the little squeaks from you as he covers you in red hand marks.

Your body is shaking with sobs as he works, which only serves to make him hard as he keeps going, occasionally spreading you ass cheeks to look at your pretty holes, which he notes is glistening despite your protests.

Finally he climbs off you and presses his face into your ass, taking a deep sniff and pressing little kisses to your lips and ass cheeks before rolling you over to lie on your back.

Your face is blotchy and puffy from tears, and he drags you so your thighs are wrapped around his waist.

"There you are, much better, and so fucking pretty hmm?"

You whine as he paws at you, but you don't fight him, you just watch him rake his hands all over. 

"Why are you so mean to me?" 

Your little voice takes him by surprise and he leans over, pressing his hard body against your soft one.

"I'm not mean baby, I'm just worried about you. I want you to be safe, I wanna take care of you. Plus you look so pretty like this, I can't help it baby...."

You sob as he presses kisses to your tear stained face, but he relishes the way your soft lips respond to his, accepting his kisses as he dominates you.

"Do you understand now? You want me to make you feel better now sweetheart?" He keeps kissing you, grinding against your bare heat, waiting until you nod.

"Good girl, let me make you feel better now..."

He pulls back and smirks as he sees your eyes widen as his cock is pulled out and slapped against your heat.

You whine and protest a little as he drags the tip against your soaked folds but he hushes you with a finger in your mouth, sinking his cock in slowly but relentlessly until he is all the way inside you.

"S'too big Bucky... Can't...." You protest but he can feel your walls squeezing him tighter as he waits for you to settle.

"Yes you can baby. I can feel your cunt, doesn't wanna let me go does it? Tell me, tell me you want it..."

You squirm and moan as more tears slid down your cheeks. He growls and catches them with his thumb and sucking them, still waiting for you to respond.

"Fucking say it baby, tell me you want it..."

Your breath shudders but you nod and without waiting another moment he begins rutting into you. He can't believe how good you feel, how tight and soft you are. He loses himself in the pleasure, leaning down to lick and kiss at your tears as you wail in pleasure.

Your moans echo around the gym, and he feels you grip onto his shoulders as he pounds into you. 

"Bucky... Please..."

He pulls back, lifting your thigh to plant more smacks to your already sore cheeks, making you squeal and cry, your walls squeezing him tighter, fluttering as your peak builds.

"Come baby, show me what a good girl you are. My pretty little cry baby..."

More squeezes, more slaps and tears follow until you reach your peak. He follows quickly after, filling you up and claiming you as his own.

He collapses into the mat next to you, panting and sweating as you lay next to him shaking and whining. 

Eventually he gets up and pulls his shorts on, before pulling your underwear up tight and hauling you up and cupping your face in his hands. 

"Now, I wanna see you here tomorrow after class for another lesson alright? We're gonna work on things together and I can take good care of my little cry baby ok?"

You sniffle and nod at him, so he rewards you with a soft kiss before sending you off on your way.

He's definitely going to hell, but as he watches you scurry away he thinks, he doesn't really care.

[ssa-dado]

16 - Sapphire

Aaron Hotchner x fem!teacher!reader Genre: fluff, but mostly whump and angst Summary: Hotch loses a significant bet to you, which triggers a visit to your apartment, where he is joined by his family. While there, Hotch picks up on your relaxed demeanor and her strong connection with his son, Jack. However, he also notices the absence of her engagement ring, leading to a deep conversation about your true desires and the life you're building with your fiancé, Peter. Warnings: heartbreak, mentions of CM cases (2X12, 2X15, 2X23)... why it’s always whumptober in this blog and never kinktober? Kind of unfair Word Count: 10.5k Dado's Corner: I'm so sorry. Feel free to send hate in my inbox or in the comments, I truly deserve it this time. @c-losur3 sorry for turning one of our brainstorming sessions in such a nightmare.

masterlist

That was the very first time Hotch had ever lost a bet against you… and it wasn’t even close. 

You had finished the paperwork with time to spare, working steadily even in your own home office, while he was left scrambling to catch up. Over the years, the two of you had built a history of small wagers and playful bets, and though they never held any real stakes, this one was different. This one mattered more than any before. 

It wasn’t about solving a case, or testing each other with some trivial challenge to see who could push themselves further. This time, it was about something deeper. For Hotch, it was about holding on, about keeping you close in a way that felt necessary, almost vital. The fear of losing you again, of watching you slip out of his life like you had once before, still lingered.

And it was about the electricity between you - the undeniable chemistry, the way you seemed to spark off one another when you worked together. He missed that energy, that connection that felt so natural, like you were in perfect sync. 

He needed to win. 

But he hadn’t.

Now, as Jack’s cries filled the car on the way to your apartment, the weight of that loss settled on Aaron, heavier than he expected. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, his jaw clenched in frustration. Haley, sitting next to him in the passenger seat, glanced back at Jack, her brow furrowed in concern. Jack’s wails were louder now, and every minute that passed seemed to make them sharper, more strained.

“Aaron,” Haley began, her voice calm but firm, “maybe we should cancel. Jack’s been upset all evening, and I don’t want to overwhelm him, or her.”

Aaron shook his head, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "No," he muttered, quieter than usual, almost as if he were trying to convince himself. "She insisted. She already has everything prepared, and I need to pick up those reports anyway."

Haley’s lips pressed into a thin line, unconvinced, but she let it go. She knew better than to push when Aaron was like this - focused, determined. "If you’re sure…" she murmured, though her eyes lingered on Jack, who was still squirming uncomfortably in his car seat, as the rest of the drive passed in tense silence, broken only by Jack’s occasional hiccuping sobs.

By the time they reached your apartment building, Jack’s cries had escalated to full-blown sobs. Haley cast him one last pleading look, her expression full of concern. “Aaron, really. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

But Aaron wasn’t ready to turn back. "No," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It’s going to be okay. She’ll understand."

Haley sighed softly, holding back her reply as Aaron lifted Jack from the car seat, gently cradling him against his chest. Jack’s small fists clutched at the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his tear-streaked face flushed from crying. He bounced him lightly, whispering soothing words, but the child remained restless.

As they approached the door, Aaron could hear your voice drifting through the hallway, warm and light as you called out to Peter. “Hun, could you grab the door, please? They should be here any minute!”

When Peter swung the door open, his usual flamboyant confidence softened in deference to Jack’s distress. He greeted Aaron with an easy smile and a firm pat on the shoulder. "Aaron, my man. And Haley, it’s so good to finally see you again," he said, his grin widening as he took her in. "You’re even more beautiful than I remember. Motherhood clearly made you glow even more."

Haley smiled warmly at him, her eyes crinkling at the compliment. "Thank you, Peter. Always the charmer. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"

Peter’s gaze shifted to Jack, who was still fussing in his father’s arms. His expression softened with sympathy. "And this little guy must be Jack. Poor thing. Rough night, huh?"

"Yeah," Aaron replied, his voice heavy with worry as he bounced Jack gently. "He’s been restless all evening."

Peter stepped aside, waving them into the apartment. "Come on in, make yourselves comfortable. She’s just in the kitchen, pulling the focaccia out of the oven."

The moment they crossed the threshold, the rich, savory scent of freshly baked focaccia enveloped them – rosemary and olive oil mingling in the warm air. The apartment had an undeniable coziness, from the soft hum of classic rock music playing in the background. It was definetely a stark contrast to the high-pressure atmosphere of the BAU. Everything here felt softer, more lived-in, more… home.

Before Aaron could fully absorb the warmth of your cozy apartment, you appeared in the doorway like a quiet breath of ease, your presence soft and effortless. An apron hugged your waist, and oven mitts dangled from your hands, tangible proof of the care you’d woven into the evening.

Your hair, usually held in careful precision, was loosely gathered in a low ponytail, yet a few rebellious curls had slipped free, framing your flushed cheeks like gentle whispers of imperfection, stirred by the heat of the oven. Those small, defiant tendrils danced against your need for control, quiet reminders that not everything needed to be perfectly in place to feel right.

A faint dusting of flour trailed up your arm, adding to the charm of the scene, as if this place - this life - was made for comfort, for easing the burdens of the world outside.

The moment your eyes found them, your entire face lit up with a warm, welcoming smile, one filled with genuine happiness at seeing them.

It was the kind of smile that could make anyone feel at home, and after the long, tense evening, you were exactly the kind of comfort they all needed.

"Aaron, Haley! You made it!" you said brightly, hurrying over to greet them, still wearing the apron tied at your waist. "I’m so glad you’re here. Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess, been running around getting everything ready."

Aaron found himself momentarily caught off guard, taking in this unexpected side of you. You looked different - more relaxed, more at ease, and there was a warmth about you that felt… disarming. It was a side of you he wasn’t used to seeing, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

Before Aaron could say anything, Jack let out a soft whimper, and your attention immediately shifted to him. You stepped closer, your expression softening as you knelt down to his eye level, your voice warm and soothing. "Hey there, Jack," you murmured gently, the soft lighting around you adding to the calmness in your tone. "What’s going on, little guy? What’s got you so upset?"

Jack’s sniffling continued, his tiny fists clutching his stuffed pine marten tightly, his wide, teary eyes staring up at you. For a moment, it seemed like he might burst into fresh sobs, but then something shifted.

The moment he heard your voice, his breathing slowed, his cries softened. His wide gaze remained fixed on you, and Aaron could feel the change, too - he could feel the tension slowly melting away from Jack’s little body as he began to calm down.

You smiled softly at Jack, your touch featherlight as you gently brushed your fingers over the plush toy in his hands. "Oh, the kuna," you said with a soft chuckle, glancing up at Aaron with a teasing glint in your eyes. "You weren’t kidding when you told me this was his best friend, huh?"

Aaron let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the weight of the evening’s stress finally beginning to lift. Jack’s tears had stopped, his body visibly more relaxed in his arms. He offered you a small, grateful smile. “Yeah,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of relief and exhaustion. "He doesn’t go anywhere without it."

Haley, standing off to the side, watched the scene unfold with wide eyes, her surprise evident as she took in how quickly Jack had settled in your presence. "Wow," she breathed, her voice low, almost in disbelief. "I’ve never seen him calm down that fast… not with anyone but Aaron."

Jack, now much calmer, gazed up at you with wide, curious eyes, his small body melting fully against Aaron’s chest. His tight grip on his father’s shirt loosened, his fingers relaxing around the kuna. You reached out gently, wiping away the last of his stray tears with a tender touch, your smile comforting and soft. “There we go, little guy,” you whispered. “All better now, huh?”

Peter, who had been leaning casually against the doorway, watching the interaction unfold with a knowing smile, let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "You’ve got the magic touch, babe," he said, a teasing note in his voice, though the admiration in his eyes was real.

Peter crossed his arms, shooting Aaron a meaningful glance, his eyebrows raised. "Didn’t I tell you? She has a gift with kids."

Aaron, still processing how quickly Jack had settled down, offered a brief, tight smile, nodding slightly as his gaze flickered between you and Peter. Before he could respond, Peter’s expression softened, and he turned back to you with a more sincere smile. "You’d be such a good mom," he added, his voice full of affection.

For a moment, the comment hung in the air. You hesitated, the briefest flicker of emotion crossing your face before you waved it off with a casual smile. "Thanks, Peter," you said lightly, though there was a slight tremor in your smile that Aaron didn’t miss. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

Peter chuckled softly, though the warmth behind his teasing was unmistakable. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

With that, the evening eased into a rhythm that felt unexpectedly comfortable. Dinner was light and full of conversation, the kind that once flowed effortlessly between you and Hotch when you worked side by side. Aaron found himself watching you throughout the meal- studying your movements, catching glimpses of the person he knew so well but with subtle changes that felt unfamiliar.

That’s when he noticed.

Your engagement ring - it wasn’t there.

At first, Aaron told himself it was nothing. You might have taken it off to cook, or maybe it was being cleaned. But the more he observed, the more that small detail began to gnaw at him. Each time you reached for a dish or gestured as you spoke, your hand moved effortlessly, with no absentminded fidgeting or reaching for the ring that wasn’t on your finger.

If you had just taken it off for cooking, you would feel the absence. He knew that. But you didn’t, and that unsettled him even more.

The absence of that ring started to weigh on him, a small but heavy knot in his chest.

Peter, still unaware, smiled at you from across the table as he finished his drink. “We’ve been talking about it,” he said, his tone casual but with an underlying seriousness. “Maybe it’s time we think about having one of our own, you know?”

The words hit Aaron like a punch to the chest.

Every time he’d seen Peter since that night at the bar, his conviction grew stronger: Peter wasn’t right for you. But Hotch’s face remained composed; years of masking his emotions had made him an expert at keeping his true feelings hidden. His jaw tightened slightly, but outwardly, he stayed calm, choosing instead to focus on your reaction, watching closely for any sign of how you really felt.

You deflected with ease, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glanced at Jack, who was happily babbling, completely at ease. “Jack’s an angel,” you said, smiling warmly. “But I don’t think he looks a thing like his father.”

The table shared a brief laugh, including Haley, who leaned over to rub Jack’s tiny back affectionately. "He definitely has his own little personality," she said with a smile. "But sometimes, he has that same intense stare as Aaron."

But Aaron didn’t join in the laughter. He was too focused on you - on the way you had brushed off Peter’s comment, your laugh just a little too quick, your deflection a little too smooth. He’d seen it a few times tonight, how you dodged certain topics, especially whenever Peter mentioned anything about the future. Something was off, and Hotch couldn’t ignore the way it gnawed at him.

After a while, the conversation drifted, as it often did when you were involved, to philosophy. Your eyes brightened as you began to speak about Plato, a passion filling your voice that seemed to draw everyone in.

"Fun fact," you began, your voice soft but deliberate, a small smile playing at your lips, "Plato believed that the world we live in is only a shadow, a reflection of something far more perfect. Everything we see, everything we touch, it’s just an echo of its true essence."

You glanced around the table, your eyes lighting up as you continued. "Imagine love," you said, your voice growing more poetic, "the love we feel here in this world is beautiful, yes, but it’s fleeting, imperfect. It can break, it can fade. Plato thought there was an eternal, perfect form of love - pure, unchanging. A love that exists beyond us, untouched by time or pain, an ideal we can only glimpse in brief moments."

As you spoke, your words seemed to hang in the air, captivating the room. Aaron couldn’t help but watch you intently, remembering how your passion for philosophy had always been so infectious. Even though part of him had once joked about its "abstract nonsense," he couldn’t deny how your enthusiasm pulled him in.

He felt the weight of your words, particularly the way you described love - an ideal so perfect that it almost seemed unreachable, a reflection of something distant and far from the everyday struggles of life.

You paused, letting the thought settle before continuing. "What we see here - whether it’s a chair, a focaccia, or love itself - are just shadows of something greater, something more real. In Plato’s realm of forms, that perfect love is waiting, eternal and untouched. It's something we can strive for, something we can long for, but never fully possess."

Peter, leaning back in his chair with a grin, shook his head lightly. "Only you could make Plato sound like a romantic," he teased, though his voice held a certain warmth, clearly caught in the flow of your words.

You returned the smile but didn’t stop, a deeper reverence creeping into your tone. "In a way, he was a romantic. Plato believed our souls long for that perfection, for the beauty and truth that we can only find in glimpses here. Every love we feel, every connection we make, it’s just a reflection of something pure that exists beyond our reach. But it’s that longing, that striving for the ideal, that gives love its meaning. Without that yearning, what would love be?"

Your words trailed off as Aaron, now smirking to himself, leaned closer to Jack. With a playful, conspiratorial tone, he whispered softly, “Jack, she said Plato,” his grin widening. He watched Jack closely, half-expecting his son to remember their little “deal” - to cry on cue at the mention of those philosophical names.

But Jack didn’t cry.

Instead, he stared up at you with wide, mesmerized eyes, his tiny face full of wonder and curiosity. It was as though, in that moment, Jack understood every word you were saying. His focus was absolute, his gaze unwavering, as if your voice held the answers to questions far beyond his grasp. For a one-year-old, it was almost eerie how captivated he seemed, his little brow furrowed in concentration, as if he were pondering Plato’s theory of forms alongside you.

Hotch stifled a chuckle under his breath, shaking his head.

So much for their plan. Jack was clearly enchanted.

Noticing Jack’s fascination, you paused, your expression softening as you leaned slightly toward him, your voice gentle and warm. “Oh, are you interested in Plato, buddy?” you teased, your smile widening as you addressed him like he was the only person in the room. “Looks like we’ve got a future philosopher on our hands. Aaron, are you sure he’s your son?”

Haley burst out laughing, covering her mouth as she tried to contain her amusement, and Peter joined in, shaking his head with a playful grin. "You might need to get him a children’s book on philosophy at this rate," Peter added, glancing at Jack. "He’s already hooked.”

Without missing a beat, you and Aaron spoke at the exact same time, your voices overlapping in perfect unison. “Hegel for babies.”

The way you and him had responded in sync, without hesitation, brought a rush of nostalgia for him. It was like stepping back in time, reminding him of all the moments you’ve always shared especially at work, finishing each other’s thoughts, operating with an effortless rhythm that required no words. That connection, that familiar flow between you, was still there, ready to rise to the surface as if nothing had changed.

But something had changed.

Even as Aaron enjoyed the easy moment, his mind couldn’t let go of the puzzle forming around you and Peter. Throughout the night, he kept discreetly watching, searching for subtle signals - anything to explain the absence of your engagement ring.

Aaron’s eyes darted between you and Peter, watching your interactions closely. Was it strained? Were you keeping something hidden behind those well-rehearsed smiles? The more he observed, the deeper his suspicion grew. The playful banter with him felt easy, real, but with Peter, there was a distance, subtle but present.

---

After dinner, as Peter and Haley’s laughter echoed faintly from the living room, you led Aaron into your office to collect the files. The space between you was tense, charged with everything unspoken that had been simmering throughout the evening. As Aaron followed in silence, his mind churned, trying to reconcile the image of you with the life you said you wanted.

Then he saw it.

Your engagement ring.

Sitting on the desk, carelessly placed beside a stack of papers, as though it were something you had tossed aside without a second thought.

For a moment, Aaron said nothing, his eyes fixed on the small band. His heart sank as everything he’d been suspecting solidified. He had convinced himself earlier that maybe you had taken it off for some practical reason, but now, seeing it here, forgotten or abandoned - it wasn’t just off.

It was discarded.

His pulse quickened. He could no longer avoid the truth staring back at him.

“You know,” Aaron began softly, the weight of his words heavier than he anticipated, “even though I didn’t win the bet, the offer is still on the table.”

You glanced up sharply, startled by the quiet intensity in his voice. A flicker of something -uncertainty, fear - crossed your face before you could mask it.

Your hands gripped the edge of the papers on your desk, as if trying to ground yourself in the familiar. “Aaron, we’ve been through this,” you replied, your voice steady but not as confident as you intended. “Teaching at the academy... it’s the only way I can settle down. With Peter, I can finally have a normal life. It’s what I need.”

The words fell from your lips, practiced, deliberate - but hollow. Even as you said them, they felt rehearsed. There was a tremor beneath them, a quiver that Hotch could sense immediately.

He didn’t need to be a profiler to see the cracks forming.

He stepped closer, his eyes unwavering as he searched yours. “Is that what you really want?” His voice was gentle, but there was no mistaking the depth behind his question. He wasn’t asking for surface-level answers anymore. He was asking for the truth, the one you’d been avoiding, even from yourself.

You bristled at the question, standing taller as if the extra inches could shield you from the vulnerability creeping up on you. “Aaron, I’ve made my decision,” you said, more forcefully this time, crossing your arms over your chest, protecting yourself. “Teaching is a stable job. Peter and I... we can have a life together. A normal life. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, as if the air itself had become too dense to breathe. Aaron’s gaze never left yours, piercing through the fragile facade you were clinging to. His eyes flicked down to the ring on the desk, lying there unwanted, untouched, as if even the symbol of this so-called “normal life” didn’t quite fit into the image you were trying to present.

And in that silence, he realized it fully: you were living a life constructed from rehearsed lines and half-truths. Your answer to him was almost identical to the one you had given earlier, only reworded, as if the questions he asked were catching you off guard, pushing you off the script you’d so carefully crafted.

Aaron would have let it slide if you’d been able to offer him some real, grounded reason for choosing teaching over the BAU. He might have accepted your words if you had taken a moment to explain why you needed distance from the relentless horrors of the cases, how the endless cycle of darkness had begun to wear on you, or even how teaching offered you a different kind of purpose, a safer way to make a difference.

But you hadn’t said any of that.

You hadn’t shared anything deeper.

It was as if you couldn’t bring yourself to commit to this life you claimed to want.

And then, of course, there was Peter.

If you’d taken a moment to talk about the life you were building together, if you had described it with real conviction - if you’d said that you wanted to marry him, that you wanted to have a family with him, that the ring lying unworn on the desk was a symbol of a future you were ready to embrace - maybe then Aaron would have believed you.

But you hadn’t.

Not now, and not at any point during the evening. Every time Peter was mentioned, every time the conversation grazed the topic of your future, you deflected. You laughed it off, offering vague, safe answers as if uttering anything more concrete might break the fragile illusion you had constructed for yourself. It was as though speaking those words aloud would make you confront a truth you weren’t ready to face.

You had spent the entire night avoiding anything real, anything that would force you to look at the choices you’d made, at the life you were building with Peter, and the pieces of yourself you were leaving behind.

If this life with Peter was truly what you wanted, then where was the passion, the excitement? Where were the words that could solidify the direction you were headed?

Every evasion, every empty laugh, only confirmed what Aaron already knew. This wasn’t the future you were running toward with open arms.

It was a future you were trying to convince yourself to accept.

The ring on the desk was more than just an oversight, it was a symbol of the disconnect between what you were choosing and what you truly wanted.

And he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You hate your ring,” Aaron said quietly, his voice cutting through the thick silence that had settled between you. The words landed softly but cut through your defenses, each syllable chipping away at the fragile wall you’d so carefully built.

You stiffened, feeling the accusation burrow into you, your immediate response flaring with anger as you struggled to keep him from breaking through. “Excuse me?” you snapped, the words sharp, but your tone betrayed you, there was a quiver of uncertainty. You felt a wave of panic ripple through you as the walls closed in, as if the room itself were shrinking around you.

Aaron took a step closer, his gaze steady, his voice calm but laced with a gentleness that almost made his words sound like an offering. “You hate it,” he repeated, as if handing you a lifeline, as if he were daring you to take it. “And it’s not just because you took it off to cook or forgot to put it back on. You’ve been taking it off more and more, haven’t you? Because every time you look at it, every time you wear it, it feels… wrong.”

You forced a laugh, trying to brush it off, to slip back into that casual, deflective tone that had worked so well all evening. “Aaron, it’s just a ring-”

“No, it’s not,” he interrupted, his voice firmer, yet still soft, his gaze holding yours, unwavering. He took another step closer, so close now that you could see the resolve etched into his face, the sadness lingering in his eyes. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe a single word of what you just said.”

Your breath caught, the air suddenly thick, pressing down on you as his words struck deep. His expression softened, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, yet it carried a quiet strength that made you feel exposed, vulnerable.

“It’s not just a ring to you,” he said, his tone so gentle it nearly unraveled you. “Nothing is ever ‘just something’ with you. You find meaning in everything. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you. It’s the way you look at the world, every little thing matters. You give meaning to things others would overlook, sometimes things they’d never notice. You find depth where others would only see the surface.”

You felt his words dig into you, reaching parts you had tried to bury beneath practicality, beneath a life you had convinced yourself you wanted. He wasn’t letting you hide, wasn’t letting you deflect with empty words or rehearsed responses.

“Even tonight,” he continued, his voice taking on a quiet, reflective tone. “When you spoke about Plato, about the meaning of love through his forms, you weren’t just talking about philosophy. You were talking about yourself. You said the love we feel in this world is a shadow, a reflection of something perfect we can never fully reach. You spoke of it as if you were making excuses for why your love with Peter could be flawed, imperfect, why it could never be what you long for deep down. It was like you were giving yourself permission to settle for less than what you truly want.”

His gaze held you, steady and unyielding, and you felt your defenses slipping, cracking under the weight of his words. He took a breath, and you could see the intensity in his eyes, the way he was letting his own walls down, the way he was stepping into a vulnerability he hadn’t allowed himself in years.

“I’m not a philosopher, I will never be a philosopher,” he said softly, his voice carrying a depth of sincerity that felt like a confession, “but I remembered every word. And I couldn’t agree more when you said that it’s the longing, the striving for the ideal, that gives love its meaning. You said it yourself, ‘Without that yearning, what would love be?’ So tell me-”

He continued, his voice steady, yet filled with a quiet urgency, “are you really reaching for something true, something that reflects that ideal, or are you just convincing yourself to accept a love that’s flawed because you think that’s all you’re going to get? Are you settling for something safe because it’s easier than admitting you might want something more?”

He paused, his words hanging heavily in the air, his eyes searching yours, cutting through every excuse, every half-truth you’d told yourself. “I know you, and I know that nothing is ever ‘just something’ to you. Not love, not life, not death and certainly not this ring.”

Your hands trembled slightly, and you quickly folded them over your chest, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t want to talk about this,” you whispered, the words barely audible, but the trembling in your voice betrayed the flood of emotions swelling up, threatening to break through.

But Aaron didn’t stop.

He saw the tiny cracks forming, the way you were beginning to buckle under the weight of the truth. He recognized it - the way someone’s guard began to fall when they were too close to a truth they weren’t ready to confront. He had seen it so many times before, sitting across from suspects, unsubs. But this time, it was you, and that difference made this moment more personal, more agonizing than any interrogation he’d ever conducted.

He softened his tone, but his words were as precise and cutting as ever, his profiler instincts turned on you, searching, pushing. “You took it off because it’s become something foreign to you. ” he continued, the words gentle but relentless. “It’s been weighing you down ever since that night at the bar, when Peter overstepped your boundaries.”

The room felt impossibly small as his words hung between you. The memory of that night surged forward - Peter’s laughter, his casual dismissal of your privacy, turning it into something public, something you hadn’t even shared with the people closest to you. He had humiliated you, and you had buried the hurt because that’s what you always did.

“Aaron, stop-” you pleaded, your voice shaking.

But he pressed on, the profiler in him pushing past the walls you had built. “He outed you in front of the team. In front of people who, at that point, were practically strangers to you. For a story. And you didn’t confront him about it, did you? You let it go, just like you’ve been letting so many things go.”

You felt the weight of his words press down on you, your breath coming in shallow bursts as you turned away from him, gripping the back of your chair, desperate for something solid, something to hold onto. “We talked about it,” you said, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow, a poor attempt at keeping the cracks from widening.

“No, you didn’t,” Aaron countered, his voice low but unyielding, filled with quiet conviction. “You accepted his apology because it was easier than having the fight you needed to have. And honestly, Peter didn’t even know why what he did was wrong, did he? I had to point it out to him when we were alone at the bar, otherwise, he wouldn’t have noticed. He wouldn’t have realized how deeply he crossed your boundaries, how it made you feel. And now you’re standing here trying to convince yourself that this” he gestured toward the ring on the desk, discarded like something forgotten "is fine. That it’s just a piece of jewelry. But it’s not, and you know that.”

You felt the burn of frustration bubbling up inside you, your composure slipping, but it wasn’t just anger anymore. Beneath the frustration, there was a raw, unspoken hurt that you had kept buried for too long. It was beginning to surface, clawing its way to the forefront, and you couldn’t stop it. “Aaron, you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you bit out, your voice sharp with desperation, your hands tightening into fists.

But Hotch didn’t back down. He stepped closer, his voice steady, yet full of conviction, a quiet determination that refused to let you retreat. “I know you better than you think,” he said, his eyes softened, but there was still that relentless force behind his words, the same precision he used when interrogating someone, when he was peeling back layers to get to the truth. “I’ve known you for years. I’ve watched you. I know how you move through the world, how you give meaning to things, how you choose things carefully, with intention. I know that Peter gives gifts that are meant to impress people, not you.”

You blinked, feeling your throat tighten further as you fought to hold back tears, but Hotch kept going, his words unraveling every defense you had put up.

He gestured toward the ring, his gaze unwavering, holding yours with a quiet intensity. “That ring? A thin band to make the stone look bigger than it is. -

It’s flashy.

It draws attention, but it’s not elegant.

It’s not thoughtful. -

It’s not you. You would have never chosen that ring for yourself. It doesn’t fit your style - yours is subtle, refined, timeless. You wear things that hold meaning, things that blend seamlessly into who you are. You need something sturdy, something with a thicker band, something that won’t get in the way because you use your hands every day.”

He took a step closer, his words steady, unraveling each piece of the life you’d convinced yourself you wanted. “You’re always writing, always creating, whether it’s notes for your students or lesson plans, or even cooking for yourself at home. You never thought you’d have time for hobbies, but now you’ve found them. You’ve grown, and you need something that can grow with you. He didn’t think about that, about how your hands are more than just hands. They’re an extension of you, of how you express yourself, how you care for others. You pour yourself into everything you do, with a quiet grace that’s always been there and that I’ve always loved about you.”

Hotch’s voice softened, though the conviction in it remained. “We’ve exchanged letters for years - six, to be exact. I’ve watched how, in those letters, your handwriting changes. I know when you let the ink smudge, it’s because the topic is close to you, and you can barely keep up with the pace of your thoughts. You don’t just write; it’s a way for you to let your true feelings flow, to put something of yourself onto the page. You need a ring that reflects that, one that fits the life you’ve built - not something that just looks good, not something that’s just there to be seen.”

His voice softened as he stepped closer still, his gaze locked on yours, searching your face. “That ring, it’s not practical for you. And Peter didn’t even think about that, did he? He didn’t think about how you would wear it every day, how you would feel with it on your finger. He chose something that would look impressive to other people, not something that would make you feel at home in it. And it’s not even your favorite stone, is it?”

You froze, your breath catching in your chest as his words hit you harder than you were prepared for. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the truth pressing down on you, suffocating.

“You don’t even know what my favorite stone is,” you whispered, your voice so quiet, so fragile it barely broke the silence. The words were almost a plea, a final attempt to keep some distance between you and the truth he was forcing you to face.

“Yes, I do.” Aaron’s voice was soft, but the conviction in it was unshakeable.

“It’s sapphire.

Dark blue.

The exact shade of the ink you’ve used for years, the ink you wrote every single letter to me with.”

Your heart stuttered, the breath catching in your throat as his words hit something deep inside you, a place you hadn’t let anyone reach in a long time. You felt your hands tremble, and for the first time that night, you truly looked at him - saw him in a way you had been avoiding all evening.

His gaze was locked on yours, steady, relentless, and beneath the surface of his calm, you saw something raw. Something vulnerable. It was a part of him you hadn’t allowed yourself to see for years.

He wasn’t finished. His voice softened, like he was admitting something that had been buried inside for too long. “That color… it’s the only color you allowed yourself to have, especially at work. I’ve never seen you wear anything but black, except for the day you gave that guest lecture in Quantico. You showed up at the BAU afterward, after all those years of just exchanging letters, and you were wearing a light blue shirt.” His eyes flickered, a ghost of a memory crossing his face. “That’s when I realized. You used that color, blue, for everything that mattered. Everything personal. You made sure to keep it close to you, like it was a part of who you are.”

Your throat tightened, emotion pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight, and you couldn’t stop the memories from flooding back.

“Even when I gave you the anniversary pen,” Hotch continued, stepping closer, his gaze never wavering from yours, “the one I bought for you to commemorate the 200th day you failed to beat me to the office - you didn’t use it once for your everyday reports, did you? After a while, I noticed the ink in the pen was lighter than what you usually used. It wasn’t your blue.”

You swallowed hard, your voice failing you as he kept going, each word peeling back a layer of your defenses.

“But you still wrote with it,” Hotch said, taking another step toward you. “Maybe not for everything, but for the things that really mattered. Like my wedding speech… you wrote that with the pen I gave you. And it ran out of ink right at the last sentence. But you didn’t throw it away, even when it ran dry, did you?”

He glanced at the pen sitting on your desk, displayed carefully like an artifact from another time. His voice dropped, almost reverent. “It’s still here. You kept it, not because of its value, not because of how it looks, but because of what it represents. That pen means something to you, something personal.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, and then his eyes flickered to the engagement ring sitting on the desk, gleaming in the dim light. “But that ring? It doesn’t mean the same thing to you, does it? You don’t keep it with the same care, the same tenderness. It doesn’t feel personal. It doesn’t feel like yours.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were frozen, unable to move as his words sunk in. How had he noticed? How had he known? You had never consciously thought about it, but it was true. The color blue, it was the only piece of yourself you allowed into the world. It was a quiet reflection of who you were.

Dark blue ink.

A light blue shirt.

And now, with that ring, none of it felt right.

“What do you think you’re doing, Aaron?” Your voice wavered, your tone fragile and desperate as you tried to find solid ground beneath you. The weight of the conversation pressed down on you like a vice, tightening with every word he spoke. “Why are you saying all of this?”

Hotch stepped even closer, his voice filled with something heavy, something undeniable. “Because I care about you. Because I want you to be happy, just like you told me once, years ago. You told me I deserved happiness, and now it’s my turn to say it to you. You won’t be happy with Peter. Not really.”

His words hit you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You swallowed hard, trying to push the emotions back down, trying to keep your voice steady. “You can’t talk to me about my happiness, Aaron. You’ve found yours. You have Haley, you have Jack. You don’t get to tell me what will or won’t make me happy.”

Aaron’s expression darkened, an intensity flickering in his eyes that took you off guard. His voice dropped, and it was filled with an emotion you hadn’t seen in him in years, something raw and unguarded. “Is that what you really think? That I have it all figured out? Do you want to know why I care so much about you being truly happy? Why I can’t bear to watch you waste your life with someone who doesn’t see you? You really want to go there now?”

You straightened, your defenses rising, your voice sharp as you threw the challenge back at him. “Yes, I do.”

The room fell into a tense, charged silence, a storm of unspoken words swirling between you, years of carefully avoided feelings suddenly laid bare. The air felt thick, heavy with everything you’d both been too afraid to say. And then, quietly, Hotch spoke the words that would change everything, words that broke through every wall you had built, that shattered the careful balance you had clung to for so long.

“I loved you.”

The words lingered, quiet yet devastating, tearing through you with a force that left you breathless. You could feel your heart splinter, every emotion you’d tried to bury rising to the surface, raw and exposed. You had spent so long convincing yourself that he had moved on, that you had made the right choice all those years ago. But here he was, laying everything bare, pulling back the curtain on a truth you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine.

But he wasn’t finished.

“I loved you,” Aaron repeated, his voice soft, almost broken, like a man confessing to something he’d kept buried for too long. "I’ve loved you for years.”

The silence between you was deafening, the only sound your ragged breath as the weight of his words settled in your chest like a heavy stone. The pain that had been festering for years, the doubts, the regrets, they all surged to the surface at once. And before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out, raw and trembling.

“You loved me?” you breathed, disbelief trembling on your lips before it hardened into something sharper. Years of hurt and anger bubbled up, mixing with the grief you’d buried for so long. “You loved me?”

Aaron’s eyes searched yours, and you saw the flicker of pain, the vulnerability in his gaze. But it wasn’t enough. Not after everything.

“You want to talk about love, Aaron?” Your voice cracked, the weight of eight years of silence breaking apart, spilling out as though you couldn’t contain it any longer. “The reason I took that job abroad was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to run from you, from us. I left everyone I knew, everything I loved, and threw myself into a life where I had to start over, day after day. I thought that maybe if I was far enough away, if I was alone enough, I could forget what we could have been. That maybe, somehow, I could leave all the ‘what-ifs’ behind. But it didn’t work. It never worked. It just made it hurt worse.”

Aaron flinched, his face tight with pain, absorbing each word like a fresh wound, but you pressed on, the anger burning in your chest, spilling over.

“And do you know what the worst part was?” Your voice cracked, thick with emotion. “It was your letters, Aaron. -

I lived only to read your letters.

They were my lifeline. Every time I saw your handwriting, it was like being reminded all over again of what we could have had. I read them over and over, hoping that maybe they’d help me remember why I’d made this sacrifice in the first place. But they only made it worse. Every letter, every single one, was a reminder of what I’d lost. And all I could think was, what did we really gain? What did all of this sacrifice really bring us?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, the words pouring out, your voice rough with unshed pain. “I loved working at the BAU. I built my entire life around it, Aaron. That job was my purpose, and I left it because of you. I spent years in Europe, moving from one city to the next, trying to outrun everything that reminded me of us. But as soon as I felt at home somewhere, it would all come flooding back - the memories, the regrets. I’d lie awake at night, wondering what we’d lost, what we’d thrown away. And then, eventually, I stopped. I had to stop. I couldn’t keep living on the hope of what might have been. That’s when I let Peter in, when I started to believe that maybe I could make a new kind of happiness. Not the one I’d dreamed of, but a real one, grounded and steady.”

Hotch’s expression shattered, but you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

“You think you know what love is?” you spat, your voice trembling. “I loved you more than I loved myself. I tore myself apart for you because I thought you’d be better off. I walked away because I wanted you to be happy, and I’ve never regretted it, I would choose your happiness over mine, every time. So don’t you dare stand here, six years later, and tell me you loved me. I’m over you, Aaron. I’ve been over you, for a long time now.”

Hotch looked as though he had been struck, his face etched with anguish, and for a moment, it seemed like he might crumble. His voice, when he finally spoke, was rough, barely above a whisper. “You loved me that much… and you just walked away?”

“Yes,” you continued, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I loved you enough to let you go. Now, Aaron, it’s your turn. Let me go.”

Hotch’s face crumpled, the pain in his expression morphing into something raw, almost desperate. His voice rose, his frustration breaking through, spilling out in waves. “But you’re still living a lie! You sacrificed yourself for me, and now you’re doing the same with Peter. You’re going to settle for a life that doesn’t make you happy because you think it’s what you need? You deserve more than this!”

The anger surged up, hot and fierce, and you stepped closer, your eyes flashing. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve. You think Peter is less? You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I made my choice, Aaron. I’ve built a life with him, and you don’t get to judge that.”

He shook his head, his voice rough and bitter, the frustration rolling off him in waves. “He doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t see you the way I do. He doesn’t know how your mind works, how you pour yourself into everything you do, how you can’t sit still in a world that asks for mediocrity. You were never meant to live a quiet life in some corner of the world, pretending to be content with something less. You’ve always needed more. You deserve more.”

His voice thickened with emotion, his gaze hardening as if the truth of his words hurt him as much as it hurt you. “You deserve someone who understands that. Someone who knows you’re not the type to settle. You need someone who’s willing to love you fully, the way you deserve - someone who can see the fire in you and fan it, not extinguish it. Peter doesn’t see that in you. He can’t give you that.”

Aaron’s voice cracked, his frustration spilling into something closer to anguish. “You deserve someone who’s willing to love you as fiercely as I did back then, someone who truly understands how much you’re worth and knows the lengths you’ll go to just to be understood. You deserve someone who sees the way you challenge the world, who knows how hard you fight, and respects every bit of that fire in you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice breaking with the weight of what he was saying. “You were strong enough to walk away all those years ago, to tear yourself apart so that I could have the life you thought I deserved. And if you were brave enough to do that, then you should be strong enough now to stop lying to yourself. You’re pretending, trying to convince yourself that settling with Peter is what you want. But it’s not who you are, and it never will be. You’re not the type to choose a life that asks you to be less than everything you’re capable of being.”

He took a breath, his eyes dark, intense, his voice a mix of longing and frustration. "I know you. Better than you know yourself right now."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay steady, your voice low, laced with fury. “You think you’re better than Peter because you didn’t overstep my physical boundaries? You’re wrong, Aaron. Right now, you’re worse, you’re overstepping my emotional boundaries - I asked you to stop but you didn’t listen, not even once. You lost the right to tell me how to live my life the moment we walked away from each other. If you can’t respect that, if you can’t let me go, then I’ll make sure to erase myself from your life.”

His face crumpled, his hands trembling at his sides, his entire body taut with the force of everything he was holding back. He looked like he was going to break, like he was fighting a battle that he knew he was losing. He took a step back, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted you to be happy,” he choked out, his eyes meeting yours, raw, vulnerable. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

His words tore through you, unraveling something deep inside. You saw the sincerity in his gaze, the desperation, the sadness. He looked at you one last time, his eyes lingering as if trying to memorize everything, his face filled with a pain that was almost unbearable to witness.

Finally, he turned to the door, his movements stiff, almost mechanical. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his back to you, and for a moment, you thought he might turn around, that he might say something else, that he might reach out, one last time, to change everything. But he didn’t.

“If that’s what you want,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “If you want me to let go, them -

I’ll let you go.”

---

Hotch hadn’t heard from you since that night.

The night that left him feeling hollow, stripped bare like a man exposed to a storm he’d never anticipated.

He replayed the words you’d spoken, over and over, each one twisting deeper like a knife, carving wounds he had no way of healing. You’d been his last constant, the one person who had seen him fully, who had known the side of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

Now, you were truly gone, more distant than you had ever been, even when the Atlantic had separated you. There would be no more letters, no careful, handwritten notes, no familiar roughness of paper bearing your looping, blue-inked script, only the echoes of what you’d shared, remnants of a partnership and friendship torn away from him.

And the pain of losing you was so much deeper because you were the one person he never thought would leave.

He was already disappointing Haley on the daily basis, failing to be the husband she deserves as he chose the demands of his work over the family they’ve always dreamed of. The guilt over Jack haunted him daily - the missed milestones, the countless nights he’d spent in hotel rooms instead of by his son’s side.

He had come to accept that his choices had cost him more than he’d ever anticipated, that his absences had created a rift in his family he could never fully mend. But you… you were the one person he’d believed would always stay, the one person who had somehow seen past the darkness and chosen to stand beside him.

And now, you had stepped away too.

The realization struck him with a weight so heavy it almost brought him to his knees. You, who had known him better than anyone, who had been his friend, his confidant, his solace through all of it, were now just a memory.

In some ways, it felt like the final blow, the one that shattered whatever hope he’d clung to that he might still have someone by his side who truly understood.

You had been his last anchor, and without you, he felt adrift, more alone than he ever had before. The pain of it made everything else - the failures, the regrets - seem even sharper, a brutal reminder that he had pushed away the very people who had mattered most.

And now, there was no going back.

With you gone, the work was all he had left to cling to.

But every moment he spent trying to bury himself in case files and late-night profiles only reminded him of what he’d lost. More and more, he found himself imagining how different things might have been if you had stayed - if that night, instead of saying goodbye, you’d agreed to return to the BAU, to stand by his side once more.

How the team would have flourished with your presence, how your calm confidence and unyielding strength would have held them together, even as they all faced their own private battles. And how he, too, would have found a sense of solace, knowing that his partner, his confidant, his best friend, his lost love was there to share the burdens he carried.

In the months since you left, Hotch had watched his team begin to fracture.

Derek, always the strongest among them, had been forced to confront the ghosts of his past. Hotch saw the hurt in Derek’s eyes, the way he hid behind a mask, shielding himself from those who reached out to help. Hotch had tried to be there, to offer words of comfort, but each time he spoke, he felt the words fall flat, hollow, unable to bridge the distance between them.

He knew you would have known what to say, that you would have sat beside Derek and quietly drawn him out, helping him face his pain. Nights after, Hotch would lie awake, wishing he could call you, just to hear your voice, to ask you what he should do.

But he couldn’t.

You weren’t there to reassure him, to guide him, to help him carry the weight he so often bore alone.

And now, you would never be there again for him.

Then there was Reid.

He would never forget the hollow look in Reid’s eyes after his abduction, the way he seemed almost lost, his usual sharp mind clouded with a fear and vulnerability that shattered Hotch’s heart. Reid had always been their anchor, his intellect a shield against the horrors they faced. But that shield had cracked, and Hotch found himself struggling to help Reid rebuild, to provide the guidance Reid so desperately needed.

He knew you would have understood Reid’s pain in a way Hotch simply couldn’t. He could picture how you’d take Reid aside, your quiet, wise words full of empathy, your presence soothing the rawness of his wounds. You would have known exactly what to say, using your own intellect to help rebuild his, weaving in those philosophical insights Reid cherished so much. You had a way of reaching him, grounding him with calm understanding, and speaking to him on a deeper, metaphysical level that only you could.

Without you, Hotch felt helpless, as though he were failing the very people he’d promised to protect.

And then there was Gideon.

Watching Gideon unravel had been like staring into a mirror, reflecting a grief Hotch knew all too well.

Gideon, the man who had faced countless horrors, who had weathered storms that would have broken anyone else, had finally crumbled under the weight of his own loss. Frank’s cruelty had robbed him of Sarah, just as Hotch had been robbed of you. He could see himself in Gideon’s brokenness, could feel the pain that Gideon bore in silence, the same pain that now echoed in his own heart.

You and Gideon had both been his beacons, the ones who had filled the shadows with a light he clung to, and now, with both of you gone, he was left to navigate the darkness alone.

He was left to stumble through the darkness, to fight battles he was no longer sure he could win, knowing that the one person who had truly known him, who had quietly loved him even when he couldn’t love himself, was gone.

Each case, each crime scene was a reminder of all the moments you’d shared, of the life you’d built together, only to watch it crumble. He clung to the hope that somehow, some way, he could find you again, that the life you’d left behind would come back to him. But deep down, he knew that hope was just another ghost, haunting him, whispering of things that might have been.

And now, standing in Strauss’s office, the weight of it all pressed down on him, so heavy he thought it might break him. He met her gaze, the sharpness in her eyes a harsh reminder of everything that had fallen apart.

She watched him, waiting for him to justify himself, to justify the team that had become the only thing he had left.

He could see the doubt in her eyes, the calculation. She saw him as a man on the verge of failure, and she wasn’t wrong. But she didn’t know the cost, didn’t know what it had taken for him to keep standing.

"As your superior, I am questioning your ability to lead your team.”

He took a breath, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. His voice was steady, but beneath it lay a trembling, a fragility that betrayed just how close he was to breaking. “My team?” he said, a hint of defiance hardening his tone. “Let me tell you about my team.”

He thought of Derek, his mind flashing to that moment in Chicago, the pain etched into his friend’s face, the way he’d borne the burden alone because he didn’t trust anyone enough to share it. “Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him - why? Because trust has to be earned, and there are very few people he truly trusts.”

He paused, a bitter taste in his mouth as he remembered how he’d failed, how he hadn’t been able to reach Derek in the way he needed. You would have. You would have known how to ease his pain.

“Reid’s intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions,” he continued, his voice softening, a raw edge creeping into it as he pictured Reid’s broken expression, the hollow look that haunted his eyes. “And at the moment, his shield is under repair.”

Hotch’s chest tightened. Reid’s pain had become his own, a constant reminder of the fragility he’d seen in you, the way you’d fought to rebuild yourself when you’d come back from the edge. You would have been there for Reid. You would have known what to say. But now, without you, Hotch felt helpless, standing by as the people he cared about struggled to hold themselves together.

“Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn’t yet feel she’s a part of the team.” A flicker of pride crossed his face as he spoke of her, her fierce determination, her unyielding loyalty. “She needn’t worry.” He thought of how hard she worked, how much she wanted to belong. He knew you would have recognized it in her, would have encouraged her the way only you could.

He forced himself to continue, his voice growing firmer, even as the sadness in his chest grew heavier. “Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night, she goes home hoping she’s made the right choices.” He thought of JJ’s quiet strength, the way she carried the weight of her decisions, never letting it show how much it cost her. He knew you would have admired her resolve, would have understood the strength it took to keep going.

“Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.” He thought of Garcia’s laugh, the way she fought to keep the darkness at bay with her light. You would have seen the courage in her, would have understood that her joy was her shield, the way she protected herself from the horrors she witnessed every day.

But it was Gideon’s pain that hit him hardest, and he struggled to keep his voice steady as he spoke of the man who had once been his mentor.

“And Agent Gideon… In many ways, he is damned by his profound knowledge of others. Which is why he shares so little of himself, yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.” Hotch remembered the look in Gideon’s eyes, the emptiness that had consumed him since Sarah’s death. He had seen the same hollowness in himself, the same agony of losing someone you had let into your heart. Gideon had been undone by it, just as Hotch had been undone by you.

He straightened, meeting Strauss’s gaze with a fierce determination. “I stand by my actions, and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck.”

Strauss’s expression remained cold, her eyes narrowing. She leaned forward, her voice a sharp blade, cutting through his defenses. “Agent Hotchner,” she said, her tone clipped.

Hotch’s response was immediate, his voice a quiet, simmering intensity. “How do I know you favor your son? I’m good at my job.”

He knew he was good at his job.

He had to be.

It was the only thing he had left, the one thing he could control in a world that felt like it was slipping away.

He’d lost you, just as he had lost so much.

But he wouldn’t lose this.

He couldn’t.

---

Dado's Corner pt.2: I always read this whenever my heart gets broken... To build something meaningful, sometimes we have to tear down the entire house and rebuild from the foundation up.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @kyrathekiller ; @lorereid ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @todorokishoe24

[rxmqnova]

Reader is an autistic rookie agent. Natasha is her new SO (no-one else would train her) after a rogue gun shot sends us into an autistic burn out Natasha realises just how much she has to step up to train , support and encourage her new and frankly only rookie.

(Maybe Nat remembers a girl from the red room being punished for something similar and Nat get very protective of R almost overnight? )

The someone

NO ONE'S POV Y/N takes a deep breath before stepping into the gym, her palms are sweaty from how much she's nervous. She's having her very first training with non other than Black Widow herself.

Fury specially assigned her to Natasha. The redhead has no idea why. There are lots of other agents who can train and Natasha has a lot of work with being an Avenger now.

Though she knows Fury doesn't do anything without a reason, so she just goes along with it. Now she's waiting in the gym for her trainee.

When she sees the young girl approaching, she crosses her arms over her chest and waits until the girl walks closer.

"You're late" Is the first thing that leaves Natasha's lips.

Ever since Y/N woke up today, her day has been terrible. She spilled her tea, so she needed to change her favorite shirt for a different one.

She lost her keys, so she looked around her entire apartment just to find them in one of her jackets 30 minutes later.

"I-I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to, but my keys-"

"None of that. Just make sure it won't happen again. And you can call me Natasha" The redhead cuts the young girl off, receiving an immediate nod.

"Won't happen again, miss. I-I mean… Natasha" Y/N blurts out, giving Natasha an akward smile before putting her bag down on the ground to get ready for her training.

Everything seems to be great. Y/N is in a good shape which actually is quite surprising to Natasha as she wasn't expecting it at all.

The girls do some running, combat skills, work out. And then Natasha takes Y/N to the shooting range to see how good Y/N is with a gun.

"Take these" Natasha hands the younger girl soundproof headphones as soon as she explains everything, expecting Y/N to put them on and do what she just told her.

But Y/N just keeps looking around in awe, she's never been here before and this place just amazes her. She's lost in her own world that she doesn't acknowledge Natasha's pulling the trigger.

A loud bang gets Y/N back to reality, her hands start shaking before she moves to sit into the nearest corner, her shaking hands hugging her knees tightly. She struggles with breathing by now which got caused by crying.

Meanwhile Natasha puts her gun down, turning around to tell Y/N to try it. The redhead immediately puts her headphones away when she sees the state her trainee is.

"Y/N!" She rushes to the girl, kneeling down in front of her. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay" She tries to comfort, but it doesn't seem to help.

"What do I do?" Natasha asks herself, thinking hard about anything that could help Y/N calm down.

Suddenly she remembers a situation that happened back in the Red room. There was a girl about her age, she was hidden in a corner, crying and shaking just like Y/N is right now. She got really badly punished back then, but Natasha knows she has to try something now and calm Y/N down.

"Y/N, it's Natasha. You're okay, sweetheart" Natasha says softly, placing her hand on Y/N's knee, but the girl just flinches away.

The redhead lets out a breath in frustration, closing her eyes and thinking about what to do. When she opens her eyes again, she spots the headphones she's still holding. She very carefully puts them on Y/N's ear, hoping that the silence would help the young girl calm down… and after a while it finally does.

———

The clock hits 2 am and Natasha still isn't sleeping. She just can't, her mind keeps wandering from the young widow to her young trainee.

She knows she needs to be more careful and keep her eye on the girl. She doesn't want her to go through anything similar as the girl back in the Red Room and wants her to feel safe.

The morning finally comes and Natasha goes to the gym where she's supposed to meet Y/N. Like she knew this would happen, Y/N runs in at the last minute, blurting out one apology after another, but Natasha just smiles, hands the young girl a bottle of water and a protein bar for breakfast.

Y/N clearly needs someone to look out for her and someone who would make sure she always feel safe and comfortable. Someone who would support and encourage her. And Natasha is ready to be the someone.

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I don't know much about autism. I did some research, but I'm not sure if this is accurate.

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist