Drew Starkey’s Wife

Reposts all over the place 😓

[pr3ttybbyv]

Realized I have never posted an intro so here you guys go!!

CALL ME : 𝒱𝒾𝓋𝒾ℯ𝓃𝓃ℯ

18 ~ 𝒮𝒽ℯ / ℋℯ𝓇 ~ 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃 ℬ𝓎 ℒ𝒶𝓃𝒶 𝒟ℯ𝓁 ℛℯ𝓎

❕ℳ𝒟𝒩ℐ 𝒯𝒴 ❕

•.¸♡ ℒ𝒟ℛ , ℋℴ𝓏𝒾ℯ𝓇 , 𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒮𝓂𝒾𝓉𝒽𝓈 , 𝒟ℴ𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒾𝒸 ℱ𝒾𝓀ℯ , ℬ𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾ℯ ℰ𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽 , ℳ𝒶𝒸 𝒟ℯ𝓂𝒶𝓇𝒸ℴ , ℱ𝓁ℯℯ𝓉𝓌ℴℴ𝒹 ℳ𝒶𝒸 , ℛ𝒾𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶

•.¸♡ 𝒪𝒷𝓍 , 𝒪ℐ𝒯𝒩ℬ , 𝒢𝓇ℯ𝓎’𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓉ℴ𝓂𝓎 , 𝒢ℴ𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓅 𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁 , 𝒮𝒽𝒶𝓂ℯ𝓁ℯ𝓈𝓈 , 𝒯𝒽ℯ ℛℴℴ𝓀𝒾ℯ , ℳℴ𝓇ℯ.

That’s all I can think of for now! Ask away tho!

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hello! Can you please do 60 with Narcissa and Lucius and Reader? With something along the lines of that reader is with Narcissa even though Lucius told her to stay in her room. So when she sneaks back into her room Lucius is there and "rapes" her for not listening. And after all of that happens and Lucius leaves her room to do idc Narcissa comes in and comforts her. Something along the lines of that if you can please?

Heyyyy anon! I’d love to write this; thanks for requesting it! I went in a darker direction with this one… I also included a song that I thought fit the vibe. I was thinking for it to perhaps have multiple parts…? (PSA: themes of sex trade, sex slavery, & sexual assault)

Nightmare Life ~Dark!Lucius xNarcissa Malfoy xFem Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#60. “You broke the rules…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!!, sex slavery, sexual assault, smut (not with Narcissa), angst, kissing, comfort fluff, etc…

Enjoy (:

Lucius had bought you from your job as a personal pleasurer. You didn’t really have a choice in the matter, as he had given your manager no true choice with the amount of money he had offered them for you.

You lived in the Malfoy mansion, in a secluded wing by where the house elves stayed. You hated it. You had come to work at your old job because you were a student with debts and you needed a job, and being a stripper worked well with your schedule. But you never wanted to be someone’s personal sex slave.

Especially not Lucius Malfoy’s…

But this was your reality now. You came whenever your master called and did what he told you. The only good thing about this was Master Malfoy’s wife, Mrs. Malfoy (although she insisted you call her Narcissa, which Master Malfoy hated.)

At nights, you were supposed to stay in your room. But you had been having horrendous nightmares of the weeks past. So you found yourself in the kitchen, sneaking around in your shaky manner and trying to make sone tea.

“Darling?” You heard a voice behind you gently speak.

You turned around, breath fleeting at the idea of having been caught…

“Are you alright?” Narcissa asked, having found you standing near the stove simply shaking.

Your lips trembled and a tear threatened to escape your eye, and you shook your head lightly, “Nightmares, again…” you whispered.

“Oh my Darling, come here…” Narcissa comforted you, bringing you into her warm embrace.

“Why don’t you come up to my room for a bit?” She offered.

Your breath hitched.

If you were caught, you didn’t even want to think about the consequences…

“It’s alright, Lucius won’t know, Darling… Please, let me take care of you…” she whispered into your ear.

“Alright…” you hesitantly whispered back.

~~~

Narcissa had spent hours with you, comforting you and listening to your vivid, horrific nightmares. You felt a lot better by the time the sun was starting to come up. But alas, you had to get back to your room before Master Malfoy noticed you were gone. So, you said your good byes to Narcissa and crept through the manor and back down to your room.

*

But as you got to your door, you found it was cracked open. Your mind started racing, you hadn’t left the door open when you left… You entered your room and your breath hitched at the sight of your Master standing firm in the center of the small bedroom, looking livid. You gulped and closed the door, looking down on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Master…” you whimpered, your whole body shaking again.

“You whore.” Lucius sneered, “You broke the rules… You went to go see my wife!!”

“I’m truly sorry, Master… please…” you whispered, a tear escaping your face.

“Shut up and strip.” She jeered.

“Yes master…” you choked out, not being able to avoid the inevitable and following his orders.

Lucius then grabbed you by your hair, elciciting a cry of pain from you, as he shoved you against the wall with your ass sticking out.

“Seems like the whore needs to be taught a lesson…” he sneered, as he parted your legs forcefully, while pushing the side of your face into the hard cement wall.

“Please master please I’m sorry…!” You cried out.

“Shut up bitch!” Lucius yelled, before undoing his belt and trousers.

Without warning, he rammed his cock into your tight hole. You cried out in pain, as he began to pound into you with no mercy. He didn’t stop until he had cum inside you, and then he pulled out of you swiftly, leaving you to collapse onto the floor. And as quick as he’d came, he’d gone. You laid on the floor silently sobbing. You couldn’t take much more of this…

*

~~~

You didn’t know how much time had past. How many hours you had spent cradling yourself on the cold, hard floor. But at one point, you heard a faint knock. When you didn’t answer, the door creaked open a smidge.

“Darling, it’s me…” Narcissa gently spoke, “Are you alright? May I come in?”

You croaked put a hoarse “yes…”, your throat tired from all your cries.

Narcissa came into the room and her heart dropped at the sight of you. She hated what her husband was doing. She thought it was morally wrong to own another human being. But who was going to stand up to such a man…

Narcissa rushed over to you and took you into her embrace. This triggered even more sobs from your lips. She swayed you back and forth in her arms whispering how sorry she was on repeat. After some time, you lifted your head and met the woman’s gaze.

Something overtook the both of you as your breaths hitched and your eyes locked. Slowly, the space in between your lips closed, until you were lightly tasting the blondes red lips. A slight moan escaped Narcissa’s throat, before she pulled away. You whimpered lightly at the loss of contact.

But you were too tired to even think about going even further. You hadn’t even properly processed what you’d just done. You simply snuggled back into her lap, drifting off into a nightmare-less sleep.

~~~

Anyone interest in a Part 2…?

[thedeadowlclub]

Chapter 3: No Sweet Dream

MINORS DNI // read on ao3 // 18+

tags: darkfic, smut, dead dove do not eat, inappropriate relationship, age difference, manipulation, possessive lucius malfoy, protective lucius malfoy, violence, hurt/comfort but make it perverse, blood purity prejuidice & pureblood supremacy, loss of virginity, racism, + untagged stuff for spoilers

« chapter two // chapter list // chapter four »

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The crowded corridors at almost nine a.m. were not the best place to be half-asleep. Lenore had barely dragged herself out of the bed and put on her uniform, feeling just as drowsy as she felt the previous night, which had passed in a blink of an eye for her, with absolutely no rest, and the memories of her disturbing dreams as the only proof she had indeed slept. She really needed some coffee, and she had missed breakfast entirely. It was a miracle she wasn’t passing out right then and there. But, despite the continuous yawning, she pushed through, mindlessly getting herself to class.

It was rather loud that morning, with her housemates yelling over her from a distance. It took her a moment and a couple nudges to realize they were actually talking to her, a rare occurrence.

“Ey, good show, Briarwood” yelled Zabini from behind her, before Greengrass added “About bloody time!”

“What the fuck are they on about?” Lenore thought, head down, as she hugged her books to her chest. She hurried up, and was about to reach the classroom door, when she heard a pssst from behind a column. “Oh, fuck them.” Ignoring it was probably for the best, she didn’t have the energy to deal with it now. But another pssst and a call of her name made her turn.

“Lenore!” It was Hannah Abbott, standing sheepishly behind a column to not be seen by the passing Slytherins. Her usually cheerful face creased with an uncharacteristic frown. “Is it true?”

She walked up to her, trying to not seem suspicious, probably failing miserably.

“Is what true?”

“That you hexed Harry Potter.” Hanna's eyes were wide open and practically jumping at her. Even through whispers, she could hear the concern in her voice mix with suspicion and. Something else.

“What?”

“Did you or did you not?” Fear. That's what it was.

“What are you…? No, of course not. Why would I do that?” If there was someone she’d hex, it wouldn't be him. But even if she did have something against Potter, even if she hated him, Lenore wasn't the kind of person to practice magic like that on another student. Other than smaller spells for daily convenience, she barely did any magic at all.

"They're saying he started to have… visions, attacks. Painful ones." Hannah explained, her voice hushed, “and that you had something to do with it. That you're... Into the Dark Arts. They saw you check out a ton of books from the Mind Arts area and the Restricted Section.”

“A ton…? No, I was just –okay, I did check out a couple books. Two of them. One was from the Restricted Section, but I had permission! Professor Snape chose it for me.”

“Snape?” Hannah questioned. It was not really much of a defense. Snape had a reputation of his own, after all.

“It’s for an assignment. I’ve been taking extra assignments to… You know, catch up.” Judging by her expression, Hannah was not believing a single word. It’s not like it was her business, it’s not like they were close friends, and it’s not like she needed to prove herself to her. But Lenore wished, just for now, just this once, that someone would see her as she was. “I can prove it! I have my notes in my room. I’ll get them after class. I still have the books I took. I can show you.”

“That doesn’t prove you didn’t do it.”

Lenore pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, her headache growing more and more painful. If nothing was going to convince her, then what was the point of arguing? Perhaps it was easier to let everyone believe she had done it. Class was about to start. Why not just let her believe whatever she wanted? She was going to drop it, but another idea took the spotlight in her head.

“I can show you. You can use Legilimens on me! You can see for yourself there's nothing in my head about Harry Potter. That I’m not doing anything to him.” It was a perfect plan. Hanna'd see for herself that she wasn’t lying. She met the Hufflepuff’s gaze, her own eyes blazing with a mix of defiance and desperate honesty. The offer was rash, dangerous even, but it beat being falsely accused. She didn’t have access to Veritaserum –not in the following two weeks at least, and even then, she wasn't going to compromise her project for this– so this was the best option if she truly wanted to be believed. All she needed was to get her mind read, and show her honest intentions.

“Me?” she stammered. “Oh, no, I wouldn't know how to do that. I mean... it's really advanced, isn't it? I wouldn't even know where to begin.”

Well, shit, there goes my one and only plan, Lenore thought. A wave of frustrating despair washed over her. Of course, Hannah wouldn't know how. Most sixth year students wouldn't. It was advanced, that was the whole point of it being assigned to her. Now it seemed like the time to give up.

“Look, I… I don’t really think you did it. I don’t want to. I know you’re not like the rest of them,” she pointed with her chin at the last Slytherins entering the classroom. “Just… don’t be like the rest of them. That’d make us really stupid for defending you.”

There are some emotions that, when overcome by them, can present themselves as hidden behind an ugly mask. One may struggle to figure them out, overwhelmed by the discomfort their unpleasantness causes. Only to realize, after time has passed, that such emotion had been a good one, that there’s no reason to dislike it. And that the problem lies in oneself.

Lenore’s face was red when she excused herself and ran to the doors before they closed. She was ashamed, embarrassed, even angry with Hannah for ambushing her like that. But once she sat in her chair, once she attempted to take notes and ignore her conspiring classmates, it dawned on her that she wasn’t angry with Hannah at all. Her heart was full of a brand-new feeling. She was grateful. Hannah not only wanted to believe in her, but she had also defended her –to whom was not important. There was someone out there who had her back. She still had one question, though.

“That’d make us really stupid for defending you”

Who was ‘us’?

 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Climbing up the stairs to the top of the north tower always made Lenore feel slightly nauseous. It wasn’t just the exercise, or the perpetually overheated atmosphere, thick with the scent of a dozen different types of vapours and smokes, but the entire premise of the subject. Divination made, to her, zero sense. It was so easy to spit out nonsense and get a passing grade, it was almost disrespectful to her academic integrity. And though she didn’t deny that correct predictions of the future were indeed possible and incredibly useful –she’d have to be very dense to not believe in it when she was attending a school for literal magic–, she did have her reservations about it being taught. Or at least the way it was taught. Professor Trelawney was well-meaning, but she lacked a certain discipline Lenore thought all good professors should have.

True prophecies, which existed and she had taken care of researching outside of class after her first disappointing third year divination class, were extremely rare. And the possibilities that more than a couple students a year, let alone all students that attended, could successfully ever utilize such knowledge were slim to none. Divination was inaccurate and borderline obsolete, and in her opinion should not have a place in school. But –and Lenore was well aware of this fatal flaw of hers– she couldn’t pass on an opportunity for a good grade. She didn’t like Trelawney, but the professor for some reason liked her. And that was enough. Especially if she wanted to meet the requirements to finish.

Ornithomancy – divination by the observation of birds – was today’s brand of elaborate guesswork. She’d spent the last hour trying to make some sort of cosmic sense of the random flittings of a rather dopey-looking owl outside the tower window.

“Miss Briarwood, my dear,” Professor Trelawney’s misty voice suddenly focused on her, her enormous magnifying spectacles making her eyes swim. “The patterns of the great grey owl that circled the Owlery thrice… what did its journey whisper to you?”

Lenore, who had mostly observed the owl preening and occasionally hooting in what sounded like profound boredom, tried to come up with the sort of answer Trelawney usually favoured. “Professor,” she began, attempting a suitably vague and serious tone, “the owl’s… circular path… seemed to suggest a cycle broken, perhaps… an unexpected return to a previous comfort, and… possibly a heavy workload before the next moon.” That covered most bases.

Trelawney tilted her head, her many shawls rustling. “Yes, yes, the mundane concerns are ever-present, child. But what about the wider landscape? Did the bird’s flight not speak to you of… something else?”

“Uhm, the… The way it dipped its wing towards the Forbidden Forest before ascending towards the sun…” Professor Trelawney’s face illuminated with deep interest, a sign that she was going in the right direction. “It could suggest the carrying of a new burden, a choice that would have painful results, and an unexpected aid in a difficult time.” As soon as she was done blurting out the best combination of good-sounding meaningless words, she let out the breath she was holding and looked at her. Trelawney’s usual kind and attentive expression was replaced by something she had only ever seen caused by other students: disappointment.

The sting of exasperation attacked Lenore’s temples. She was tired, stressed from all her other extra projects, confused by that horrible book, haunted by her own dreams and now school rumours –and on top of that she was supposed to predict life-altering events from a bird’s flight path. Her face contorted in a manic smile. “Professor,” she said, hoping to maintain a respectful tone even as she was completely losing it, “it was an owl. It flew around a bit, probably looking for mice. Am I trying to predict future events based on where a bird decides to scratch its wing? What am I doing here?” The irony she’d been accumulating in all the years of taking that class decided to jump off her mouth, sneaking and spilling right in front of the professor like speech vomit. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “What’s next? Should I foresee that the headmaster will fall off the tower? That a collection of lost and broken trinkets will change the entire wizarding world as we know it? That the fate of everybody here somehow rests on the back of one stubborn child?” She threw her hands up. “It all sounds utterly ridiculous if you ask me!”

The classroom had gone quiet. Trelawney, however, did not look offended. Instead, her magnified eyes widened further, a strange, almost feverish light igniting within them. She glided closer to Lenore, extending two strangely long arms and landing them on her shoulders with strangely long fingers.

“My dear child!” she breathed, her voice trembling with excitement. “There! There it is! The Inner Eye! You resist, you deny, but the sight… it flows through you nonetheless! You perceive the tremors in the Great Web, the echoes of what is to be!” She grasped Lenore’s arm with surprising strength. “You have the gift, child! A true Seer, I sense it! Oh, the potential!”

Lenore stared, aghast at her own outburst and Trelawney’s unexpected reaction. Of course, the nonsensical statements were exactly what she was looking for. She was perplexed, stuck half way between running away from the incredibility of the moment or taking the credit for her fake predictions. But she couldn't if she tried. This was a level of pointlessness she hadn't experienced before. And, at the risk of all her plans failing, she considered for a moment dropping the class entirely.

Trelawney’s expression shifted, a shadow passing over her face. She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “There is… a disturbance, my dear. A… a clouding your aura. Something… or someone… seeks to obscure your channels, to muddy the clear waters of your perception. Your mind… it is under siege, I feel. You must clear the pathways, child! Protect your spirit! Before it's devoured, before it's stolen from you”

Lenore’s blood ran cold. She felt suddenly exposed, as if the professor had somehow peeled back a layer of her soul. She was just being weird old Trelawney, as ominous as always. She shouldn't mind her. Should she?

“I… I have to go, Professor,” Lenore stammered, pulling her arms free, desperate to flee.

“Yes, yes,” Trelawney said, patting her arm absently, still looking at her with that unnerving, fervent gaze. “But heed my words, dear. Fate will reveal itself for you again. When it does, do not fight it. Believe. Your Sight is a rare and precious thing. It will protect you, if you let it. Next time, you shall see what the future holds and trust that you'll know.”

She practically stumbled out of the classroom, her heart hammering and palms sweating. Repeating Ornithomancy the following week would be a drag.

 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

On the flip side, being the first to leave was a good thing. She didn’t have to get stuck on the mass of students descending the stairs. She was quickly at the bottom, and with her natural fast-paced walk, doing great time for her next class. Or she would have if something hadn’t yanked her back by the collar and pinned her to the wall. At first all she saw was the wand pointed at her. Her heart skipped a beat at the blur of platinum blonde hair that appeared. But then she realized that it –obviously– belonged to Draco Malfoy…

“You think you’re so clever, huh? Everybody’s saying you hexed Potter, I bet you’re chuffed to be hogging the spotlight.” The boy looked almost rabid, grabbing her at a distance in both anger and disgust, holding her like a vermin he couldn’t stand the sight of and intended to quickly eliminate.

“Get your hands off me. I didn’t do anything!” Lenore, still confused by the accusation, couldn't help but get a very disturbing thought. One that she’d have to seriously deal with later. Soon; as a priority.

“Of course you didn’t! A coward like you could never do something like that, so I recommend you stop telling people, or you’ll find out what happens.”

Her mouth fell slightly agape, eyebrows up, and eyes as wide as they could go. Draco regarded her for a moment, confused, and let go of her to take more distance. She was sure this was the first time he saw her making that –or any– expression. Lenore laughed –a real, loud, concerning chuckle. Her hands came together in an ironic clap.

“Oh. My. God. You hexed Potter?! I mean, that’s a terrible thing, obviously. But holy shit, this is a first. Even for you. Look at you, not being all talk. You got away with it, pinned it on me, and… What? Now you’re mad people think I did it?” Something about the convoluted situation had her ecstatic, and she couldn’t really figure out why. Her sanity was truly deteriorating.

“I didn’t… just shut up! You think you're rather important now, all of a sudden, do you?. Do us all a favor and remember what you are: nothing,” Malfoy said before he scurried away like a scared little animal and got lost in the corridors.

“Well, that solves that mystery,” Lenore thought, more irritated at the inconvenience than anything. But something much more important popped into her head and impulsed her to move. Because before – just for a second, and completely against her will – it had occurred to her that… She was embarrassed to even admit it to herself, to even invoke the mental image alone. But her mind, in that lapsus, had told her not that she was in an undesired position, but that it was the wrong Malfoy pinning her to a wall.

Her stomach twisted as she practically ran to the library. That wasn’t her, and whatever worm had crept into her brain, whatever this awful monster had planted in her head that day they met, she was going to kill it no matter the cost.

 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

There was no time for enjoyment, no time to take in the scent of old books and atmosphere of the setting. She moved swiftly across the room, avoiding making eye contact with anybody. Not that she needed to try too hard. Mind Arts Section; she could’ve sworn she saw something last time she was there. She glossed over the different titles. ‘The Interpretation of Dreams…’ There! Right under that one. ‘Emotions and Solutions: An Introduction to Mind Spells’. Her whole weight dropped on the chair as she cracked –almost literaly– the book open.  

It was a personal record; she was sure she had never read as fast as she was reading now. She skimmed through irrelevant titles. Basic affective charms, suggestion spells, confusion hexes. It was all so… Introductory. Charms for focus and distraction, emotional dampening, mental clarity, blah blah, blah. And then something caught her eye. Memory Modification. “This could work.”

“The human mind, in its boundless complexity, holds an intricate tapestry of experiences, knowledge, and emotions. Among the most potent brands of magic lies the discipline of Memory Modification. While often presented as a mere branch of spellcraft, the ability to tamper with, implant, or erase the very fabric of one's past – or another's – ventures into territory where the line between healing and irreversible harm blurs with terrifying ease. This section aims to outline the known applications of such magic, always with the gravest warning of the unpredictable consequences that accompany the manipulation of one's core self. The mind is not merely a collection of isolated facts, but a delicate, interconnected web, and even the most precisely cast spell can unravel catastrophic results"

As interesting as the craft was pictured to be, Lenore sighed in disappointment. The only part of it that could work was that of Memory Alterations, “the complex and highly dangerous art of creating false memories or subtly changing existing ones.” Not only did it warn that the one casting the spell would retain knowledge of the original memory. It also did not explain how to do it. If that book had ever contained any page on practical use, it had been removed. And she was back to square one.

Her eyes welled up with tears as she returned the volume to its place. This all had been for nothing. The torture would continue every night, the heavyness of the world would crush her every day, and she was just supposed to take it. “What am I even doing here?” She looked up to the ceiling, somehow wishing the answers were written up there. The only person that could comfort her right now, the only one that had ever truly cared, was so far away. And would never know. She would die before disappointing her mother like this; just the thought of Annabeth finding out what went on in her head… She wouldn’t, it was against everything they both believed in. Not many rules were set in their tiny family of two, but the fact she was letting this man poison her mind like this went against every code. And that’s why she had to sort this situation out as quickly as possible. Before it drove her completely mad.

She was so stuck drowning in her own sorrow, tears clouding her sight, that she almost jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you. Do you think we can talk?”

Lenore quickly wiped her face with the sleeve of her jumper and stared at the boy, attempting to decipher why he would want to talk in these circumstances, after the rumors, and in the middle of the library.

“Hey, Terry. Uhm, sure, what– ” she mumbled. “What did you want to talk about?” One good look at the Ravnclaw, and at the two other students taking some distance behind him and pretending to act normal, told her everything she needed to know. That was “us”. That was her chance at something going well for her. “Alright, lets do this”

 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

She had heard of the Room of Requirement, but she had never been there before. It seemed awfully convenient, she was jealous they had it at their disposal. Maybe Neville would show her how to use it. If she could prove she was innocent first of course.

Lenore didn’t complain at the arrangement, she didn’t say a word when she first entered the room –a dark version of it, one dim light above the only seat available. The one she was supposed to sit on. She was even excited, expecting to be able to bond with someone finally. To have someone in her corner. But the feeling of cold isolation hit as soon as the doors closed. She didn’t speak, not when Neville and Hannah took their position behind her, not as Terry stood in front of her, wand to her face. She sat down, silently taking her spot.

“So… you’ve done this before?”

“Uh…” Terry’s eyes went from Neville, to Hannah and back to her. He looked so insecure it was almost adorable. At least she’d think so, if he wasn’t about to crack her mind open and pry. “Not many times. But I've studied it by myself.”

A bitter aftertaste coated her tongue at his words. She was really going to let them do this. Just to prove herself… She was going to let this self-appointed advanced student probe her head. And what would he see? What if she couldn’t control what he found there? What if he saw her internal struggle. Or worse, the nightmares. The automatic thoughts that came upon her randomly throughout the day. The times her body had reacted to these thoughts.

“And you believe me?” she said incredulously. If they truly believed they wouldn’t need this. But again, they didn’t have much reason to trust her, did they? She was a Slytherin. She gulped. This had been her idea. This would be good for her, it would show them she was good. That she was different from them.

“We do, we just want to see for ourselves”

She took a deep breath. Controlling her body and mind,sheattempted to take the correct steps for their scheme to work. She had already read, re-read and summarized most of what she had on Legilimency for her D.A.D.A. project. The path to memories was emotion, any increase of feelings would expose associated thoughts. Closing her eyes, she brought forward the mix of embarrassment and pride she felt standing in front Snape after that first class. The right headspace was needed for it to work in her favor and not expose other sides of her.

“I’m ready. Just… promise you’ll stop when it’s done”

“Of course,” said Terry in a tone that attempted to be convincing. And without any further ado, he pointed the wand once more. “Legilimens!”

The feeling was that of being swept up by a kind and soft whirlwind. A swirl of voices and images and sounds surrounded her, little pieces of mind. Her mind. She was swimming in it, being lifted into a warm pleasant dream, a gentle preconscious state. But she wasn’t sleeping, and this was certainly not one of her dreams. She had to focus, back to Professor Snape’s class, back to the moment he assigned the work and the book.

“A comprehensive dissertation examining the principles and execution of advanced Legilimency and Occlumency. You will focus particularly…”

It was quite the challenge not to become distracted by the extremely sharp hyperreality she was experiencing. Lenore could almost reach and touch every object, read every word on every paper. Darkness was darker, and lights were exceedingly bright. And even in her dream Snape stood in front of her like a totem of imperturbability, reminding her of the task at hand. He was presenting a parchment, one she should take and read.

“Vestigia Magica”

She was lifted again. Lines and lights moved and blurred around her before they reassembled. She was softly placed in the library now, the parchment she just got vanished by Madam Pince. She sat with the book, looked around before opening it. That was it, that’s where she saw the three Gryffindors looking at her. Or was that after? After she opened the book and saw… But there were two books, not many, not a ton like Hannah said, only two. And she opened the book taken from the restricted section and…

She remembered being in a trance of sorts when she first saw all the images in the book, the glyphs that appeared to move, the madly written text. What she didn't remember was reading it –and even though it was no more than a whisper, she could feel it now– out loud. No, not reading. Reciting. Her face was turned to the book and yet her eyes faced forward. But this wasn’t how it happened, this wasn’t real. She hadn’t done that, hadn’t said anything. She didn’t even comprehend the words coming out of her mouth and yet she was reciting them.

The spiral of memories took a turn, she wasn’t experiencing as much as she was seeing. The pages, the sentences that hadn’t made sense then. They still didn’t know, and yet she was vividly experiencing them.

“And there are those whose blood would incline them to other arts, whose essence is deeply entangled with traces of magic…”

That useless book. She had been looking, searching for a hint of meaning, something useful to add to her work. And she had found it, she just didn’t remember. Before she had found the last name, that fallen family. Before the rose. She had found it. Legilimency Traces of magic in the blood. Another last name, a powerful family. A powerful lineage, gifted in the arts of mind deciphering. Bits and pieces flashed through,with a sick-inducing velocity. The man in the hallway. “No.” The welcoming hand. “Stop.” She didn't want them to see.

She knew what followed. Her, walking towards him. Him, surrounding her. His hair brushing against her. The heavy cold air, the fresh scent of perfume mixing with firewhiskey. The wrapping of his arms around her, the kisses on her neck. Cold, and then painful heat. Bodies, moving, rupturing each other. Even through the blurriness, even when the images hadn’t become sharp and bright just yet, she knew them. They would see. And they would know of her shame, of her want. Of her desire.

“Stop this!” Lenore screamed, at the top of her lungs, bolting up from the chair so fast she kicked it behind her.

Terry threw his arms up in shock, afraid she’d attack him. Anger and embarrassment tinted her face a furious shade of red as she looked at him. The shadows of the room closed on her, the oxygen was sucked right out of the room. Breathing was hard, and trying made her chest hurt. Everything was still spinning around her, the room and the memories. She looked around, but at every turn she only saw the three of them standing around her.

“What happened?” Neville questioned.

She hadn’t proved her innocence, hadn’t reached Malfoy's confession, this had all been for nothing.

“I have to… I need to leave,” she said, trying to catch her breath and stumbling around in search of the door. “I need to leave…” At every step, the tortuous sensation assaulted her that she was going to fall to the ground and into nothingness. Fall to the dark where there was nothing but her and her unbearable thoughts. But she kept taking them, step by step, struggling, getting closer. First to the wall, feeling it with her hands, then a column, and then the door. And then, finally, she could breathe. “I need to leave.”

 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Stop that,” Daphne Greengrass hissed under her breath.

Lenore’s knee immediately stopped bouncing under the desk, though she knew that it would start again any moment. Daphne shot her a sideways glare of pure annoyance before returning her attention to the front. The classroom was silent, save for the dry monotone of Professor Snape’s lecture. To Lenore, it was deafening. Every soft scratch of a quill on parchment was a shriek, every accidental glance an accusation. Everything was a potential threat.

“And as for the recent gossip concerning illicit hexes allegedly cast in the corridors…” Snape’s voice enveloped the room like a silken menace. His gaze, dark and pointed, settled directly on Lenore for a beat longer than was comfortable. She swallowed hard. “Unsanctioned, poorly executed magic is as intolerable as the hysterical rumour-mongering. Both are hallmarks of an undisciplined mind. In the unlikely event that any student possessed the skill to perform such an act. In the unlikely event that such an act would have occurred, rest assured the culprit would be immediately identified and expelled by our Headmaster before you had the chance to be aware of it.” No heads turned, and yet she could already feel every eye on her. “Dismissed.”

She moved quicker than the rest of the students, with the desperate urge to flee propelling her towards the heavy dungeon door. She just needed to be alone. She was almost there, foot reching the other side of the threshold, when his voice stopped her cold.

“Briarwood.”

Lenore froze, her back to him. The entire classroom had emptied around her, leaving only the two of them in the echoing quiet. Slowly, she turned, her satchel clutched to her chest like a shield.

“Professor, I didn't do it,” she blurted out, the words stumbling over each other in her haste as she turned around. “I swear, I didn’t do anything to Potter. I don’t know who started that rumour, but it wasn’t me, I would never—”

“Silence,” Snape cut her off, his expression one of profound boredom, utterly unmoved by her frantic denial. He gestured with his head towards a nearby workbench. “Your dramatic ramblings are of no interest to me.” His serious expression usually filled with a quiet anger took a more somber tone “I trust your progress on the psychic intrusion is underway.”

“Yes, Professor,” she managed, confused by the abrupt shift.

“Good.” He took a slow step closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense register that was meant only for her. “Understand this, Miss Briarwood. The initial stages of Occlumency are not about building impenetrable walls. That is a brutish and ultimately ineffective approach for a beginner’s ability. The first, most crucial step… is simple recognition.”

He watched her, gauging her reaction. His words felt unnervingly personal.

“You must learn to identify what is fundamentally yours,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “and what is… foreign. An invasive thought, an emotion not of your own making. They must be identified, isolated, and expelled before they can take root and fester.” Lenore’s heart hammered against her ribs. Before she could wonder why Snape was giving her so many clues for her assignment, it dawned on her that this was about something else other than a graded project. “Leaving one’s mind unguarded, particularly in the current climate, is not merely foolish, Miss Briarwood. It is an open invitation to invasion. See to it that your defences are not just theoretical. Your progress, and your resilience, will be tested. Do you understand me?”

She could only nod, her throat too tight for words.

“You are dismissed,” Snape said, and in his voice something different slipped out. Something akin to kindness.

 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Night fell like the sisyphean boulder she’d been trying to push. Yet as exhausted as she was, she couldn't seem to fall asleep, ruminating, pondering the same words over and over again. "You must learn to identify what is fundamentally yours…”

This whole rumor problem had distracted her, infected her brain with anxieties that shouldn't have concerned her. And she had only let it in because of fear. Fear. Of what? Of being alone? She had to laugh at her own stupidity. She had always been alone. That was not a thing for her to fear.

“…and what is foreign.”

But there was something to fear. Something that was sure to happen, just as it had been and just as it would be. Her nightly torment was soon to occur. She couldn't shake it, couldn’t stop it, not by herself at least.

“An invasive thought, an emotion not of your own making. They must be identified, isolated, and expelled before they can take root and fester.”

Did professor Snape know? Did he know about the dreams? About the dirty and persistent thoughts that festered in her brain? She hoped not, she would probably not be able to look at him ever again. Judging by the way he had offered advice instead of taking her to the hospital wing to get her head immediately examined, it was unlikely. But he did know something. And he had given her a very important clue to –if nothing else– get closer to completing her assignment and be done with Hogwarts forever. She didn’t have many ways to practice her Occlumency in a practical setting and she wouldn't know with whom to, less so considering the events of the day. But there was something she could get started on, for now.

Confusion and self-doubt. Those she could find in herself after Hannah’s warning that morning and the crowd that mistakenly cheered her on. Shame, embarrassment, anger. That was all hers. Gratitude– for just a moment, for thinking that finally for once somebody had her back.

Frustration, anger again, back in Divination class. Disappointment in her own outburst, in her lack of control. Amusement at Draco Malfoy’s confession and… and that. Had that been hers? Had thinking about him been foreign? Or did she want to believe that, to not admit it was hers?

What else was hers? The rage that assaulted her when Terry had looked into her mind. The fear of what he could discover. The shame and disgust at having accepted to be subjected to it, even when a minute before she was looking for ways to alter her consciousness and edit her thoughts. Was the insecurity hers too? The reason she had said yes to such a thing.

Why did she do that?

‘Why did I…?’

Her train of thought collapsed into darkness before she realized she wasn't in the waking world anymore. The air grew cold. Tonight there was no dark hallway, no silver light, no hand inviting. Tonight there was a door, and her own hand pushing as it creaked open. The scent of old parchment filled her nostrils, stained by the perfume of the man standing in the middle of the room; his tall elegant silhouette, partially illuminated by the fireplace. Lucius Malfoy. That terrible, corrupting, grotesquely handsome man who had haunted her dreams for days. He didn’t move, he simply watched her. The familiar wave of cold dread washed over her, a feeling of being prey spotted by a predator. Her muscles tensed up, her body ready for fight-or-fly at the mere sight of him, heart hammering in her chest. But this time she had something to hold on to.

“You must learn to identify what is fundamentally yours…”

She focused, her dream-self gripping the edge of the door. ‘This fear’, she thought, her internal voice surprisingly alert and steady, ‘this feeling of being cornered… this is… mine’. She pushed against the dream, against the door. His footsteps made no sound on the wooden floor as he walked towards her. With each step, the pressure increased. Another wave hit her—the suffocating memory of being overpowered, pinned.

But what else was hers? Right here, right now, something else belonged to her. She had the sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t be there if fear was all there was to find in her. No. Something else, something more, was asking to be recognized. There he was in all his dark allure, in all his stone cold beauty, stalking her like prey. And good grief, she wanted it. She liked it. The way her stomach tensed when we approached, the heat he elicited inside of her –him and only him, because nobody else ever had. That was all hers too. She had to own it.

Lenore didn’t move. Not when his hand landed on her shoulder. Not when he pushed her against him. Not when he delicately grabbed the side of her neck, his thumb caressing her jaw. She moved her head back slightly, her skin tingling under his touch. What if that was it? What if fighting it only made it fester? What if she just… let go?

He whispered into it in the most intimate manner; lips brushing against the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine and lighting a fire in the depths of her core. “You are… here.”

A shift took place in her, like the intricate moving of machinery; pieces moved aside to let out a soft hiss of steam. It did not matter if her decision was made from desperation or a perverse sense of fascination. All that mattered in that moment is that it was hers. Fuck it. Why not? Who would it hurt? To just sit back in her own mind and let it unfold. She wouldn’t fight it this time, there’d be no resistance.

The light from the fireplace suddenly extinguished, plunging them into an intimate profound darkness.

“Just. Let. Go.”

And so she did. A half nod, a silent surrender to the current that pulled his ethereal space.

His mouth claimed hers, slowly at first, but quickly deepening into a hungry kiss that stole her breath and ignited a fire she had previously fought. Her hands, usually fisted in resistance, found their way to his chest, then around his neck, pulling him closer, tangling in his long, soft hair. He groaned, a low, guttural sound of pure pleasure, and pressed his body fully against hers. Their clothes dissolved into nothingness, leaving their skin to meet directly, hot and eager. His body was hard, sculpted marble against her yielding softness.

His hands slid down her back, tracing the curve of her spine, then cupping her ass, lifting her, pressing her hips against his. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively in an eager embrace. She felt his thick, insistent hardness pressing against her, hot and undeniable.

"You want this, don't you?" he breathed against her neck, his lips moving against her skin, sending exquisite shivers through her. "You want me inside you."

And this time, she didn't deny it. "Yes," she whispered, a desperate, raw sound torn from her throat. "Please."

He entered her in a slow, deliberate move that filled her completely, stretched her, and sent a shockwave of pure unadulterated pleasure straight through her. Her body convulsed around him, a raw, animalistic moan escaping her lips as she arched her back, burying her face in the curve of his neck. But he didn’t let her. His hand collected her hair at the base, pulling just hard enough so he was looking into his eyes, the oneiric darkness somehow letting her see his features perfectly. His pale blue irises shone in the dark with a gentle hue —it wasn’t his usual stormy steel, but a clear winter sky after a snow. He wanted her to look, and was wordlessly asking her to. To really look at him; to see.

He moved, each thrust a perfect, exquisite agony that pushed her further and further towards the edge. His hands were everywhere – gripping her ass, stroking her thighs, tangling in her hair, pulling her head back so he could devour her neck, her jaw, her mouth. She couldn’t say it wasn’t violent, intense, raw. But she embraced it still; his need for dominance met with hers to be subjected to it. Her fingernails raked across his back, not in resistance, but in a primal demand for more, a desperate need to feel his power, his claim. Her body was a symphony of sensation, every nerve ending alive, pulsing with the rhythmic friction, the deep penetration, the relentless push towards climax.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her voice hoarse, desperate. Her body bucked against him, nearing its breaking point.

He responded with a deep, guttural growl, his thrusts becoming frantic, desperate, as he slammed into her, harder, faster. He tugged her hair once more forcing her to look, his piercing stare now a soft half-lidded gaze that reached effortlessly into the deepest parts of her mind as his cock reached the ones in her body. All of it was too much, too real. The by now familiar contraction of muscles came sooner than she expected, her insides tightening around him as she came with a scream that could only be described as feral. She gripped him, legs squeezing, nails digging into his flesh, riding the wave as it crested, exploded, shattering her into a million glorious pieces.

Even at her peak, he didn’t stop. Wet slap of skin on skin, desperate, unhinged sounds of shared pleasure. Time seemed to stand still, and her brain was simply not working any more. She was a drooling, panting, moaning mess. Her body kept convulsing around him, long drawn-out moans escaping her lips, echoing in the shadowy hall. He let out a deep, primal sound, burying his face in her neck as he followed her, emptying himself inside her.

When silence finally reigned again, a heavy, satisfied quiet settled over them like a shroud. He lifted his head, a look of almost cruel satisfaction etched on his perfect features. In that fleeting moment, as his body still pressed against hers, as the remnants of their shared, brutal climax hummed between them, one thought, sharp and undeniable, consumed her: She wanted to stay. She embraced it, the shocking, raw desire to remain lost in this perverse reality forever. Even as she lost the coolness of his skin on hers, as his face blurred and distorted, as she felt the inexorable pull back to her waking self, she clung to the fading sensation. “Don’t go.” If she could decide so at that moment, she'd stay in that dream forever, eternally bound. But true darkness claimed her, taking him and the dream away.

ᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝ

━⊱༒︎ Ouroboros༒︎⊰━

« chapter two // chapter list // chapter four »

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Lucius Malfoy being a fucking bastard who doesn't care about manners, just ruining the reader. If you can include kinks like reproduction, suffocation and sexual slavery.

pairing: lucius malfoy x reader

word count: 1.5k

warning(s): 18+, dom/sub roles, master!lucius, choking, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation, soft!lucius at the end

a/n: sorry this took literally forever, a lot has been going on but i think i'll be back for a bit. if you left me a request, please be patient! also, lucius is a little softer in this towards the end than you probably wanted but i couldn't not do it...i love soft!lucius.

“Look at my little pet, all spread out and desperate for me,” Lucius mused, his silver eyes tracing over every inch of your exposed body.

“Yes, Master,” you replied dutifully, praying he would give you what you were desperately waiting for.

You had been waiting, sprawled out on his desk, for the better part of the afternoon. You knew he always wanted you after a long day of meetings. You always waited for him, no matter what position he requested, no matter how sore your body was, no matter how desperate you were. This time was no different, except it was.

Before he had left that morning, he had made you a promise. Today you would be getting what you had been desperately wanting for months now. In the quiet comforts of your shared bedroom, he had whispered his promise - that he would give you a child.

It had taken you ages to convince him. He argued that he had never felt the need for a second child, or that he was too old to start over again. But he loved you too much. He could never say no to you, despite the cruel games you two liked to play in the bedroom, and apparently you had finally persuaded him.

Lucius dragged his ring clad hands down your thighs, his nails biting into the flesh. You hissed at the feeling, but instinctually you spread your legs even further for him. “That’s a good pet. You’re just desperate to get filled, aren’t you?” He asked with a cruel chuckle.

Too overwhelmed by his presence, all you could manage was an enthusiastic nod, staring up at him with desperation in your eyes. Lucius wasn’t pleased with that because within the next second his hand was wrapped around your throat, his rings pinching the skin on your neck from how tightly he was gripping you.

“Use your words, you filthy little slut,” he gritted out. He was looming over you now, the fabric from his suit dragging against your hardened nipples, his legs directly between yours.

“Y-yes, Master. Want- want to be filled,” you choked out, barely getting enough air to form a coherent thought let alone speak, but you managed.

Finally satisfied, he loosened his grip. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he removed his suit jacket and removed his wand from it’s holster, purposefully putting it to the side to prove that he wouldn’t cast an contraceptive charm on you. You watched his every move, completely entranced by his casual display of dominance even if he really wasn’t doing anything special. He knew exactly how to move, exactly what to say, exactly what look to give you to get you squirming.

His hand returned to gripping your throat once it was all over. Your head was already dizzy and he hadn’t even properly touched you yet.

“You’ll get what you want, pretty pet,” he said lowly, a tender sparkle in his otherwise menacing grey eyes letting you know he wanted what was to come just as much as you did.

“But,” he continued.

You could feel yourself tense under that one simple word. You knew getting what you wanted was never easy when it came to this man. Not in the bedroom, at least. Every game came with a caveat that was sure to leave your head spinning and your body desperate for more, despite the severity of some of Lucius’ more difficult tasks.

“I’m keeping my hand right here the whole time,” he explained, tightening his grip on your neck almost painfully to prove his point. “If you pass out before you get my seed inside you, that would be such a shame. You wouldn’t want to miss it, would you?”

You couldn’t help the desperate moan that spilled from your lips. He knew this was your favorite game. And he was so deliciously cruel for deciding to play it tonight. He knew how badly you wanted to feel him spill inside of you, fill you with the seed of his child. You were determined to make that happen for yourself.

He didn’t even miss a beat the moment he saw understanding and raw determination and lust fill your eyes. With his free hand, he freed his cock from his perfectly tailored slacks and pushed inside of you with one long, deep thrust. The moan you let out was close to a scream as you felt every inch of his perfect cock stretch and fill you, the both of you throbbing with anticipation.

“That’s a good slut. Take what I give you,” Lucius mused, pausing for a moment. You weren’t sure whether the brief lull was for your benefit or his own, but you wanted it to end.

“Please, Master. Please fuck me,” you begged, your hips attempting to roll into his but it was a futile attempt. With his free hand, he easily pinned down your waist, forcing you to come to a stop.

“Take. What. I. Give. You,” he gritted out, punctuating every word with a powerful thrust deep inside of you.

You couldn’t even begin to form a response. All you could do was feel and moan and try to fucking breath. His cock was plunging in and out of you with a force unlike ever before, leaving you breathless yet more alive than ever.

His hand never once wavered from his tight grip, forcing your breaths to become increasingly shallow as time went on. Your head was spinning from the sensation, only increasing your high and bringing you closer and closer to your climax.

“How badly do you want me to breed you?” He asked, barely a hint of breathlessness in his voice, as if he wasn’t fucking you like an animal.

His question snapped you back to reality and you looked up into his grey eyes, and you almost came just from the eye contact alone. His eyes were liquid fire, all of his desire and lust and love pouring out like lava into your very soul.

He must have read the answer in your eyes, but still it didn’t satisfy him. “Use your words,” he said more gently, lightly tapping your cheek with his fingers to snap you out of your lust filled daze.

“So- so bad. Pl- Please, Master,” you gasped out, fighting desperately to stay coherent. You wanted this more than anything. You weren’t sure if you even could, but you were prepared to beg more if that’s what he wanted from you. You would give him anything, do anything for him, just to have this. You were clawing at your own mind to stay afloat, trying to push past the daze you were in from the way his cock was lighting you up inside. Frantic breaths fell from your mouth, barely recognizable sounds falling from your lips. You could only imagine what you looked like. Debauched, fucked out, filt-

“Cum.”

Your world went quiet as your body followed Lucius’ order. Your mind had barely caught up by the time your body was shaking and convulsing beneath him, your vision white.

Your mind stayed suspended in time for a moment, before you finally heard him groan and begin to spill inside of you.

And then everything went black.

~~~

When you finally landed back on Earth you were still in Lucius’ office, but he had relocated you to the couch, his firm body pressed against your as your eyes fluttered open.

You curled your body impossibly closer to his, wanting to be as close as humanly possible, at least for a little while.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he whispered into your hair when he felt you move, his arms tightening around your body perfectly. “How are you feeling?”

“Perfect,” you said honestly. “But I’m a little sad I missed it when you came.”

He chuckled lightly at that before responding. “Darling, unless this child is an absolute miracle than I’m sure we’ll have to do this quite a bit more before you get pregnant,” he explained lightly.

You couldn’t even help the shiver that ran down your spine at the promise of more, your whole body perking up.

“A bit more? As in, a bit more right now?” You asked, sitting up so you could look at him, praying to Merlin that you were giving him the eyes that made him fold every time.

“You’re insatiable,” he commented, clearly amused.

“Oh, so are you,” you chided, getting up off the couch and slowly making your way to the door.

“And just where do you think you’re running off to?” He asked, his eyebrow arched menacingly but you weren’t buying it for a second, not when he had that fond look in his eyes.

“I think we could both use a shower,” you asked, slightly turning in the doorway so he had a perfect view of your ass. “You coming, Daddy?” You asked, barely holding back your giggle at the new nickname as you began to walk away.

But you couldn’t hide your smile when you heard him following you, ever devoted to loving you in every way you deserved.

[loki--fics]

Devotion

Lucius Malfoy x Fem!Reader

content warnings: graphic smut, caught in the act, strong language, age gap

word count: 6,000+

summary: You and Draco have been dating for two years. The first year was great, but then things began to decline. He had longer hours at work, less time for you, barely looked your way anymore. Your final straw was him standing you up on your second anniversary, and you turn to his father for comfort.

~

   You had been sitting at the restaurant alone for two hours when you finally gave up hope - he wasn't coming.

   Flagging down the waiter, you asked for the bill, unshed tears burning behind your eyes. This is the last time he humiliates me like this, You vowed silently, paying for the bottle and a half of wine you'd managed to finish while waiting. You scribbled your signature on the receipt, tipping the waiter handsomely, then grabbed your purse and coat, quickly exiting the restaurant.

   The cool night air raised goosebumps on your skin as you stepped into an alley and apparated, landing in front of Malfoy Manor. You stormed up the steps, closing the large front door harder than necessary behind you, letting your back come to rest against the cool wood for a moment. A single tear fell, which you furiously scrubbed from your cheek. No! You told yourself. I'll not cry over him - not again.

   You removed your heels, holding them in your hand as you stepped quietly through the house, making your way to the room you'd shared with Draco for the past year. The two of you had been together since your last year at Hogwarts, and today was supposed to be your two year anniversary. You had the entire night planned, fine dining and fun, but it was all ruined now. You knew he'd been busy at work lately, but he hadn't even bothered to call.

   Fury was too tame a word to describe the level of anger and humiliation you felt. As you walked through the kitchen, you set your bag and shoes down on the island and poured a glass of water for yourself. You caught your reflection in the smooth chrome of the basin - you'd gotten your hair done, your nails done, you'd gotten waxed, bought a new dress, new shoes, had your makeup professionally done - all for nothing.

   With an incensed cry, you threw the glass into the sink, where it shattered and sprayed water all over you. A shard rebounded off of the metal, slicing your hand, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Instead you sunk to the floor, back against the cupboards, hugging your knees to your chest, and cried. Sobs heaved from your chest, a mix of heartbreak, anger, and embarrassment, and you knew this was it - your final straw.

   You'd forgiven Draco for many shortcomings, but this one took the cake. Never had he mortified you so thoroughly - of course the Malfoys were a well-known family, and you had been roped into the craziness of their publicity from the moment you'd started dating Draco. The Daily Prophet had done a piece on your first anniversary, which Draco had gone all-out for, so when your second anniversary began to approach everyone wondered if it would be as grand as the first.

   No doubt Rita Skeeter would write some melodramatic piece about the poor girl who got stood up on her anniversary now, and no doubt everyone would read it. You'd be a laughingstock to all those who didn't pity you.

   The sounds of your sobs seemed to echo throughout the vast silence of the open kitchen, your tears falling in fat droplets down your cheeks and dripping onto the dark green fabric of your dress, now sopping wet from the water that had splashed on you. The expensive silk clung to your legs uncomfortably, the cold chill of the marbled tile seeping through the fabric, your forehead pressed to your knees like they could hide your shame.

   Then, you heard the soft, deliberate click of expensive shoes stepping across the floor. You didn't look up - there was only one other person who lived here aside from you and Draco:

   Lucius.

   Your throat tightened painfully, another burning wave of mortification washing over you, and your sobs grew heavier. You had endured two ignominious hours of waiting at that damned restaurant, endured the pitying stares of other patrons and the wind-carried whispers from mouths hidden behind menus, endured the creeping certainty that Draco wasn't coming as you had glass after glass of wine. You had endured until you broke, and now here you were - drunk, disheveled, and bleeding on the kitchen floor like some tragic parody of yourself.

   Lucius witnessing you like this was just the cherry on top of the shit sundae that this night had become.

   The footsteps drew nearer, then stopped, and you heard him gasp sharply. You didn't look at him, didn't lift your head, just curled up more tightly, like you could vanish entirely if you just made yourself small enough. You couldn't bear to see the look on his face as his eyes swept the scene - the shards of shattered crystal in the sink, the water sprayed all over the marble countertops, the bright red droplets of blood against the smooth chrome of the basin, and you, on the floor.

   You heard the swish of his robes, felt the warmth of his body as he crouched down beside you, flinched as his hand gingerly took yours, turning your palm upwards. You kept your face buried behind your knees, but you could feel the delicate swipe of a handkerchief wiping away the blood that slicked your skin.

   "Great Salazar, woman," He muttered, his voice tight with alarm as you felt the tip of his wand gently touch your palm. "Episkey."

   You hissed softly at the searing sting of your wound pulling itself closed, but within seconds the pain had dulled, then faded to nothing. Though your sobs had dwindled to sniffles and hiccups, you still didn't lift your head; you didn't want to see the pity - or worse, contempt - that you were certain you'd find if you met his eyes.

   But his voice broke through the silence at last. Low, smooth, gentler than you'd expected. "Y/N," He began, still holding your hand, his thumb brushing slow, comforting circles on your skin.

   "You don't have to say it," You cut him off, voice muffled and raw. "I already know what a spectacle I've made of myself, something I'm sure the whole of Britain will know by morning."

   He squeezed your hand gently. "That isn't my concern right now, you are. What happened?"

   You shook your head, biting back a sob. "It doesn't matter."

   His other hand closed over yours, sandwiching it gently. "It matters to me." His tone sharpened slightly, though not in anger - in supplication. You felt him lean in closer, his voice dropping to that persuasive, silken timbre you'd always found impossible to ignore. "I see your pain, whether you name it or not. Better to let it out than quietly bleed into yourself."

   Your chest tightened. "I... I waited for him, Lucius. For two hours, I waited. But he.. he never came." Your voice cracked, another tear trailing down your cheek. "He didn't call, didn't text, nothing. But I still waited, and I kept hoping - oh Salazar help me, I kept hoping he'd come sweeping in with some ridiculous excuse, that he'd kiss me and we'd enjoy supper and everything would be fine. I sat there, like a fool, while others whispered behind their menus and looked at me with pity."

   Your shoulders began to shake, quiet, broken cries falling from your lips. "Have you any idea how witless I must have seemed? Rita Skeeter must be frothing at the mouth, I've no doubt she's come up with some melodramatic piece about poor, jilted Y/N, abandoned by the Malfoy heir on thier anniversary, that'll be plastered all over the front page of the Daily Prophet come morning."

   A long, shuddering breath left your body. "I- I'm so sorry, Lucius, I.. I've stained your family's name."

   For a moment there was only silence, and you feared the worst - he was going to throw you out, publicly cut ties with you, disassociate his family from you. But then he spoke, his voice sharp as a razor's edge.

   "My son is the fool," He seethed. "You've made no spectacle of yourself. Draco has - this is his failing, his shame, not yours."

   You finally dared to lift your head, and Lucius was close enough that you could count the long, blonde lashes framing his steely eyes. You were sure you looked a fright - damp hair clinging to your cheeks, makeup running down your face, eyes red and glassy - but if Lucius thought so, his expression didn't show it. His expression was soft, sorrowful, a current of anger towards his son simmering under the surface.

   "You don't understand," You whimpered brokenly. "I'm going to be a laughingstock to anyone who doesn't pity me. They'll see me as weak, pathetic even-"

   He cut you off, his tone fierce. "There will be hell to pay for anyone who dares try to laugh at you, Y/N. Of that, you can be certain." Then he softened, his hand rising from yours to brush the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "You deserved better than waiting, better than being ignored and humiliated. Better than him."

   Your chest tightened again, aching with how badly you wished you could believe him. "He scarcely even looks at me anymore, Lucius," You said, your voice a broken whisper. "I tried, I kept trying, I- I did everything tonight to try to make it special, to make him see me again." You sniffled, more tears slipping from your eyes. "And he didn't even bother to show up."

   "If my woman had sat at that table," He said slowly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sure you heard every word, "Dressed as you are, looking even half as radiant as you, I would have crossed oceans to meet her." His large hand rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "Only an impudent fool would have done otherwise."

   His words hit you like a physical blow, and your breath caught in your throat. "Lucius.." You whimpered, his comfort cooling some of the heat of your embarrassment.

   He stood, offering his hands to you. "Up. You needn't stay crumpled on the floor, it's no place for a lady."

   Your hands slipped into his and he pulled you to your feet, the room swaying slightly as you stood. He took a moment to steady you before snapping his fingers loudly, and a House Elf appeared, eyes lowered. "Y/N needs fresh clothing. Dry, soft, nothing cumbersome."

   The Elf disappeared for a moment, returning a moment later with neatly folded pajamas, holding them up in offering. Lucius took them, guiding you to the washroom adjoining his study, ushering you inside. "Go, compose yourself. I'll wait in my study."

   You stepped into the washroom, nodding graciously as he closed the door behind you, but one look in the gilded vanity mirror cracked your composure all over again. Your cheeks were stained with mascara, your delicate pin-up hairdo now frizzed and damp, the front of your dress darker where the fabric had gotten wet, your lipstick smeared and faded from chewing on your lips. Fresh tears burned your eyes, and you forced yourself to look away as you peeled yourself out of the ruined dress, stripping off your bra and slipping into the soft cotton pajama set - a cropped, dove grey t shirt, with matching shorts.

   Grabbing a cloth, you turned on the water and washed the remnants of makeup from your face, then carefully unpinned your hair, combing through it with your fingers. Once you felt less like a drowned swamp creature, you emerged from the washroom, stepping into the study.

   Lucius stood when you entered, walking over to meet you and led you to the plush sofa near the fireplace, guiding you to the seat with a kind of courtly patience. "Drink?" He asked, and you nodded. With a flick of his wand, two crystal glasses appeared and filled with amber liquid, and he passed one to you as he sat next to you, leaving several inches of space between you.

   The burn of the liquor grounded you, the taste - spicy and expensive - lingering on your tongue. You exhaled shakily, your eyes fixed on the fire, but Lucius's gaze never left you.

   "My son's failure," He said, breaking the silence, "Is not your own. You must understand that, Y/N. He has proven himself to be unworthy of you - your loyalty, your beauty, your devotion."

   "My beauty?" You scoffed lightly. "What beauty? My face is a mess, my hair is ruined, I-"

   "And yet, you are still radiant," He cut you off, gently but with conviction. You turned your head toward him, watching as his eyes flicked over you with something akin to reverence. "Even undone, with tears streaking your cheeks. Draco's neglect reflects only upon him, not upon you. You are not diminished by his failures; if anything, you shine all the more brightly against his shadow."

   "Not diminished?" You asked, somewhat bitterly. "I sat there like a lovestruck fool waiting for a prince, only to be left alone. Everyone saw it, they'll be talking about it for weeks."

   His eyes met yours. "Let them talk, words from the envious have never tarnished what is truly beautiful."

   Your hand gripped your glass tighter as you shook your head. "I'm not beautiful, I look like something discarded."

   "You look exquisite," He said smoothly.

   "Even with ruined hair and mascara running down my face?"

   "Yes. Rare beauty such as yours is not painted on, it shines through - you could be undone, disheveled, and still light up any room you walk into."

   You swallowed, your throat tight. "If that were true, he would have come," You replied sadly.

   Something dangerous flickered across Lucius's features before he smoothed it away. "Were he not such a fool, and had an ounce of good sense, he would have. His failure does not erase your worth, Y/N. It only reveals his blindness."

   You looked away, back at the fire, to escape the weight of his gaze. "You regard me as if I'm some sort of goddess."

   "And why shouldn't you be regarded as one?" He asked, and your eyes flew back to his.

   "A goddess wouldn't get stood up at a restaurant."

   "A goddess," Lucius countered, his voice silken, "Is radiant regardless of who does or does not appear. And any man worth the air he consumes would never dare neglect her." He paused, his eyes holding yours for a long moment, suggesting a deeper meaning to his words. "You deserve a man who will not only see you, but cherish you - a man who will protect and adore you. I've long wondered if my son was capable of such a thing." His voice dropped lower, hushed, like he was confessing a secret. "I know I am."

   You went quiet for a moment, looking at the glass of amber whisky in your hand and taking a long, slow sip. Then your eyes met his again, the firelight warming his handsome patrician features in shades of gold. You shifted to face him, settling in a few inches closer, close enough that your knee brushed his. "Your words... well, they hardly sound like something you'd say only to ease a woman's wounded pride." Your tone was soft, cautious, but threaded with something sharper underneath.

   Lucius inclined his head slightly. "They are truths," He replied, low and deliberate. "That my son has been too oblivious and impertinent to see."

   Perhaps it was the alcohol, but you suddenly felt quite brazen. Your voice was soft, tentative, but carried a challenge. "And... what do you see, Lucius?"

   He regarded you in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable save for the faintest tug of a smirk playing on his lips. Then he leaned closer, his voice pitched low enough that it felt like it belonged to you alone. "I see a woman whose elegance demands attention, whose presence alone could silence a room. I see beauty," He paused, his gaze sweeping over your face, lingering on your lips before meeting yours once more, "That tempts a man in ways he could scarcely admit aloud."

   His breaths were slow, deliberate, and you felt as if the fire itself could not compete with the heat that threading in the space between the two of you at that moment.

   "Tempts a man how?" You breathed, your pulse quickening.

   He inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. "You tempt him," He murmured, voice threaded with heat, "To imagine the feel of your skin beneath his hands... the taste of your mouth when he finally dares to claim it." He finished his drink, setting the crystal glass down on the coffee table before leaning a fraction of an inch closer, close enough that you could feel his breath caress your cheek. "You tempt him to picture you close - so close, he can breathe nothing but you - and still be left starving for more. You tempt him," He leaned his lips close to your ear, "To forget reason... to cast aside restraint and risk everything, for even the smallest taste of what it would be to have you."

   You felt a shiver run down your spine as he leaned back slightly, breath catching and heart hammering so loudly you were certain he could hear it. The fire crackling was the only sound as you shifted closer, brushing your leg against his, a sudden recklessness stirring in your chest.

   You finished your own drink, setting the glass beside his before raising your hand, fingers ghosting along the lapels of his robes, toying idly as though you needed something to occupy your trembling hands. You didn't quite meet his gaze, instead watching the way your fingers brushed the dark fabric, the weight of your pulse quickening in your throat. "And what," You said softly, almost absently, "Do you think I would feel like?"

   A small, coy smile tugged at your lips as you finally lifted your eyes back to his, looking at him through your lashes. "What do you think I would taste like, Lucius?"

   He stared at you for a moment as though you had struck the very breath from his chest, his eyes flicking to your lips, his hand reaching up and gently brushing your cheek. "What I would give to know..." He murmured, his eyes meeting yours once more, dark and stormy.

   You leaned closer still, your lips inches from his. "Why don't you find out?"

   His inhale was sharp, and his jaw clenched as if he were physically restraining himself. "You tread dangerous waters, little witch," He muttered, a warning laced with something darker, enticing.

   A smile blossomed across your lips, daring and bold, and you tilted your face up toward his. "I've always found danger to be quite... thrilling."

   The ghost of a moan slipped from his lips, hovering a breath apart from yours. "And what of Draco?"

   Your eyes went molten. "What of him?" You breathed sharply in retort. Your fingers clenched his lapels, emboldened by his nearness. "You told me that I deserved better, deserved to be cherished... Why don't you show me what that feels like?"

   "And if he returns home and... happens upon us?"

   "Then let it be a lesson to him, to show him how to properly care for a woman."

   With a low, gutteral sound that was equal parts growl and groan Lucius closed the distance, his mouth claiming your with a ferocity that betrayed just how long he'd held himself back. His lips were demanding and hungry, stealing the breath from your lungs as his hands, too, abandoned their restraint, one resting at the nape of your neck as his other arm snaked around your waist. With no hesitation, he tugged you onto his lap, your legs resting on either side of his hips, the prominent bulge in the front of his trousers pressing squarely into your heat.

   You gasped into the kiss, a soft whimper at the sudden friction against your most sensitive area, and he greedily swallowed the sound. For the first time in what felt like forever you didn't feel alone or abandoned, you felt wanted - every brush of his lips, every desperate tilt of his mouth, was declaration of it.

   Your fingers fisted the expensive fabric of his robes, holding tightly as though afraid he might pull away as he shifted beneath you, his tongue sweeping your mouth like it was always his to claim, deepening the kiss until it was no longer just a meeting of lips but a consuming hunger. Another broken sound slipped from your throat - half whimper, half moan - which only spurred him on, his grip tightening on your hips like he might never let you go.

   When at last he pulled back, it wasn't to retreat - his lips trailed along your jaw, down the column of your throat, where your pulse fluttered wildly beneath the delicate skin. "Salazar help me, Y/N," He muttered, his voice low and rough against your skin. "If you only knew the restraint it's taken not to do this sooner..."

   "I wish you had," You groaned, your head falling back as his lips devoured your skin.

   Whatever thin thread of composure he had clung to snapped with a feral, low sound that vibrated against your throat. His hands, no longer gentle, claimed you with a certainty that left no doubt about his intent - one hand pressed you against him more firmly, forcing you to feel the evidence of his desire straining against the fine cut fabric of his trousers, while the other traced from your jaw to your torso, his long, elegant fingers splaying posessively over your chest as though he was marking what was his.

   "You have no idea," He murmured darkly against your skin, "How many times I watched my son squander your devotion..." His hand trailed under your shirt, gripping your breast as his teeth grazed your collar. "Knowing, that I could make you feel more, better, than he ever could."

   You moaned as his fingers toyed with your nip, his words dark as sin and hot as fire as he continued. "How many nights I had imagined this... You, pliant in my arms... your taste on my tongue... the sweet sound of you-" He punctuated his words with a nip at your throat, earning a whine from you. "-breaking, for me."

   Almost without meaning to you felt your hips rock against him, desperate for friction, touching your forehead to his as your fingers tangled in his white-blonde hair. "Lucius..."

   The sound of his name falling from your lips, half plea, half provocation, nearly unravelled him. He seized your mouth again, rougher this time, deeper, urging you closer, harder, his tongue sweeping in to taste you as his hand left your chest to grab the back of your thigh, rocking you against him. The friction left you crying out into his mouth, sounds he drank down like wine, his grip tightening as he ground you against him harder.

   Breaking the kiss again, he trailed his lips to your ear, his voice husky. "Tell me to stop, and I will... But if you don't, right now, I won't be able to stop myself from what I'm about to do to you."

   He pulled back, and you looked at him with dark eyes. "Good," You whispered. "Don't."

   That was the final blow. He captured your lips again, kissing you like he intended to devour every last breath from your lungs. His fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, and you lifted your arms, allowing him to pull it over your head, tossing it aside as he hungrily took in the sight of your bare chest.

   "Exquisite," He murmured, lowering his mouth to your sensitive nip, tongue circling, teeth grazing, lips worshipping until you were arching into him, a helpless sound escaping your throat as you rocked against him. His free hand slipped lower, lower, slowly tracing along your inner thigh, deliberately torturing you, until his fingers finally pressed against your heat. The thin fabric of your panties and pajama shorts did little to conceal how ready for him you were, in fact you'd long since soaked through both.

   He slipped his hand into your shorts, pushing aside the fabric of your panties, his fingers slipping between the raw folds of your slick heat. Your head fell back, a loud cry ripping from your lips as his his fingers stroked, teased, dragged you closer to the edge with every careful, deft movement.

   Your fingers fisted in his silken hair, tugging him closer as you moved your hips desperately against his hand. "Lucius, please..."

   The sound of his name on your lips in that tone - the plea, the abandon, the desperation - snapped what little restraint he had left. His arm hooked around you, lifting you effortlessly, flipping you into your back as he held himself above you. His eyes locked on yours as he pulled away your soaked shorts and panties, his voice hoarse with desire. "I will show you," He promised, "How to be adored properly. How to be ruined and treasured, at the same time."

   His lips found your thigh, your leg hooked over his shoulder as his mouth travelled up, higher, stopping just shy of your throbbing core. He looked at you devilishly, pausing, and you looked at him, confused. "Lucius, wha-"

   His mouth locked on to you mid-sentence and a strangled cry forced its way from your lungs as your head fell back against the cushions, your back arching as his tongue swirled circles around your clit. One of his hands grabbed your wrists, pinning your hands to your stomach as he devoured you, the other slipping two fingers inside of you, beckoning slowly at first, then faster, until you were delirious with pleasure.

   You could feel your climax rapidly approaching, the knot in your stomach beginning to build as Lucius consumed you. Every stroke of his tongue and fingers was pulling you apart, piece by piece; your thighs trembled against his shoulders, your voice breaking on his name as you arched into his mouth.

   "That's it, little witch," He murmured against you, lips wet with your essence, voice decadent and rough, his fingers curling faster. "Give in for me, sweet girl. Show me how badly you've needed this."

   Your back bowed so violently you felt it crack as the dam broke, a wail spilling from your throat as stars clouded your vision, shattering, trembling, as Lucius coaxed you through it, drinking down every last shudder. You collapsed back onto the cushions, flushed and gasping, as he rose above you. He pulled his fingers out of you, cleaning your climax off of them with his mouth before kissing you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

   "Lucius," You whimpered into the kiss, your hands pulling at his robes with desperate need. "Please, I- I need..."

   He silenced you with another searing kiss, and with a wave of his wand, his clothes were on the floor. His arm slid beneath you, lifting you effortlessly back onto his lap, straddling him once more, this time nothing between you. His length, hot and hard, pressed against your entrance, and the low groan that escaped him was feral.

   "I should resist you," He gasped, dragging the thick head of his member through your slick folds, tormenting you both with the tease. "But Salazar help me, I cannot."

   Your nails dug into his shoulders, your voice needy and desperate. "Then don't," You breathed. "Don't resist me."

   That was all it took. With a gutteral sound, Lucius pulled you down onto him, thrusting himself into you in one deep, claiming stroke. Your scream filled the room as your walls stretched around his impressive size, his grip bruising on your hips as he buried himself to the hilt.

   "Perfect," He growled against your throat, sinking his teeth into your skin. "You feel perfect."

   He gave you no time to adjust before setting a relentless rhythm, driving into you with each thrust, every stroke a blend of ravenous hunger and worship. His lips dragged over your skin, biting, marking, kissing, as if to brand you as his. You clung to him, nails raking down his arms, his name falling from your lips in shattered gasps like a prayer.

   "Is this what you wanted, sweet girl?" He groaned between gritted teeth, his voice wrecked with desire. "To be cherished like this? Claimed like this?"

   "Yes, Lucius- oh, Salazar, yes!" You cried, meeting his thrusts with equal desperation.

   And then-

   The door burst open.

   "Father, have you seen-"

   Draco froze in the threshold, his voice catching, his face draining of colour as his wide eyes took in the sight before him - his father, buried deep inside his woman, your body writhing in ecstasy, crying out his father's name.

   Lucius didn't stop, didn't even slow, just continued with his relentless pace as Draco stood there, his face a taut mask of fury, jaw tight, fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.

   "Father! Y/N!" His voice came out a strangled cry. "What in Salazar's name-"

   "You've squandered her devotion for months, Draco," Lucius snapped, cutting him off, slowing his pace a bit as he eyed his son with contempt. He pulled your body against his, as if shielding it from the boy, something no longer his to see. "You had every opportunity to cherish her, adore her, to see to it that she was never left wanting. You failed."

   Draco's fists trembled at his sides, rage radiating from him, but he was powerless to intervene. Lucius trailed his fingers up your back, a gentle reminder you'd not be neglected again.

   "Father, this- this is unacceptable!" He seethed. "You can't do this, Y/N-"

   "I'll do as I please," Lucius interrupted, his voice icy. "As will she."

   He began to thrust harder, faster, the sound of your cries and his hips slapping into yours filling the space. His voice, low and smooth, vibrated against your ear.

   "Do you feel that, sweet girl?" He murmured. "Every cry, every shiver... this is what you were meant to receive. To be worshipped, cherished, never ignored."

   You gasped, tilting your head back as you arched into him, clinging to his shoulders. "Lucius... please," You whimpered, feeling a knot forming, low in your stomach.

   He growled, teeth grazing the sensitive pulse at your neck, lips tracing along your jaw, every kiss and nip deliberate, demanding. Your body trembled under him, shuddering with every perfect, punishing thrust, and your cries only seemed to drive him faster. He watched the way your body pressed into his, your hands clutching at him, lips parting in ragged gasps as you rode him.

   He let his eyes meet Draco's, pale and stunned at the threshold. "Take note, Draco," He said, voice low and dangerous, "This is what it looks like to truly cherish a woman. Every touch, every movement... this is how she deserves to be treated."

   You cried out his name again, fingers threading through his silver hair as he lifted you slightly, grinding into you, claiming you fully, and he pressed a rough, searing kiss to your lips that stole your breath. You arched, shuddering, helpless in his lap, and he whispered against your mouth. "Do you feel how much you're wanted? How much you're needed?"

Draco's jaw tightened, his fists clenched, but he remained frozen, unable to leave or avert his eyes. And Lucius, still in complete control, continued to drive into you, each stroke a blend of worship and hunger, proving in every deliberate movement exactly what it meant to treasure a woman.

"Father, this... this is-" Draco stammered, but Lucius cut him off, voice low, dangerous.

   "I suggest you leave," He said smoothly. "Your presence is not welcome here."

   With a final glare, Draco stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The echo of his anger faded, leaving the room warm and charged, the only sound your shaky breaths as Lucius thrust into you slowly. He growled, teeth grazing the sensitive pulse at your neck, lips tracing along your jaw, every kiss and nip deliberate, demanding.

   Then he began to quicken again, his hands gripping your hips, fingers digging in as he thrust into you with a controlled, punishing rhythm that made you cry out, arching hard against him. Your body trembled, every nerve alight with the combination of pleasure and the electric shame of Draco having seen you riding his father.

   "Look at you, sweet girl..." He murmured against your lips, teeth grazing your jaw. "So perfect, so yielding... do you feel how badly you've been wanted?"

   "Yes... oh, Lucius..." Your voice broke with each gasp, each cry punctuated by the heat that pooled in your belly. You pressed closer, grinding down against him in time with his relentless thrusts, hands tangling in his silvery hair, clutching at him as if you could anchor yourself to him and never let go.

   His hand trailed down your thigh, sliding over the soft skin, teasing you until you shivered violently, ready to tip over the edge. His fingers pressed to your heat, feeling himself sliding in and out of you as he expertly circled your clit. "Do you feel it?" He whispered, voice rough and low, brushing his mouth along yours. "The fullness of what you deserve... of what you've been denied?"

"Yes... yes, Lucius, please..." Your words were ragged, breathless, a mix of pleading and demand, and he responded in kind, driving into you with deliberate precision, hands claiming, lips worshipping, body and soul fully devoted to the pleasure he was giving - and taking.

Your back arched, nails raking his shoulders as your body tensed, trembling, and he could feel you nearing the edge, every heartbeat, every gasp a drumbeat to his own rising need.

"I've waited far too long for this," He murmured against your throat, voice hoarse, husky. "To show you what it means to be truly cherished." His fingers moved faster, your breath catching as your eyes squeezed shut. "That's it, sweet girl... Let go."

Your cry ripped through the air as you tipped over, shuddering violently, the pleasure coursing through your body leaving you helplessly clinging to him as you gasped his name brokenly against the crook of his neck. Lucius groaned low in his throat, pressing you down into his lap, taking you fully as you rode the wave, his hands firm and unrelenting on your hips, his mouth meeting yours to claim every sound you made.

And when he finally reached his own edge, he hissed your name, gripping you completely, thrusting into you with one final, consuming claim that left you both gasping and trembling. You leaned into him, still trembling, body sticky and flushed, hair falling into wild tendrils around your face.

"Lucius..." You whispered, voice ragged, and he shushed you with a soft kiss at your temple.

"Let me take care of you," He murmured, sliding his hands to stroke your back, smooth and deliberate, tracing the curves of your body with reverent gentleness. "Let me make sure you come down from this properly."

He guided you to rest your head against his chest, long fingers brushing the hair from your damp forehead, tracing the line of your jaw. Every touch was slow, deliberate, possessive, but soft, almost worshipful.

"You’re exquisite,” He murmured, voice low and husky. “Even now, you are still absolutely radiant. Any man would be lucky just to breathe the same air as you." He let the words hang, then added with a softer intimacy, "Myself very much included."

You shivered again, curling into him, lips parting in a soft sigh. Lucius continued, his hands stroking your arms, shoulders, back, lingering over every place his hands could reach without pressure, just warmth and reverence.

"You deserve this," He murmured, kissing the crown of your head. "To feel safe, desired, cherished... never humiliated or abandoned again."

You let out a shaky sigh, nuzzling against his chest, breathing in the faint scent of him - rich, smoky, unmistakably him - and for the first time in months, you felt safe, entirely seen.

"Lucius…" You whispered, barely audible.

"Shh," He murmured. "No one else matters. Not now, not ever while you’re here with me."

Your fingers drifted to his chest, to the fine fabric of his robes, hesitating before tentatively tracing the line of his collarbone. "You... you make it sound like I’m something to treasure," You murmured, voice thick and vulnerable. "After everything... I feel like I should still be ashamed."

His hand rose to cup your jaw, tilting your face up so you met his gaze. His pale eyes held yours with an intensity that was both gentle and unrelentingly magnetic. "The shame isn’t yours, sweet girl,” He said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “It’s his. Draco’s failure, not yours. You’ve done nothing wrong, except perhaps to be far too patient.”

A faint, breathless laugh escaped your lips. "Patience," You echoed, voice still trembling. "I thought it was love. But I was waiting for nothing. And now..." You paused, hiding your face against his chest again. "Now I feel ridiculous."

"You are far from ridiculous," He said, lowering his mouth to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Any man would be foolish not to worship you."

You lifted your head slightly, eyes meeting his, heart hammering at the implication. "You really mean that?" You whispered.

He smiled, a slow, knowing curl of his lips, and brushed his nose against yours. "I do. Every word. And I intend to show you, in every way I can, just how true it is."

Your hands drifted up to his chest again, and he leaned back slightly, allowing you to curl against him, to rest your head against his shoulder while his fingers threaded into your hair, brushing and stroking with languid care. He kissed your temple, your jaw, the side of your face, and every soft touch was a deliberate contrast to the intensity you had just shared - an unspoken promise that he would always handle you with this combination of hunger and tenderness.

"You’ve been betrayed before," He murmured, his breath warm against your hair. "Ignored, humiliated... but I will make sure you never feel that way again. Never."

Your lips parted in a soft sigh, leaning into him, and he whispered lowly, teasing just enough to make your pulse quicken without breaking the calm of the moment. "Do you feel it yet, sweet girl? How much you are wanted, how completely cherished you are? Because I want you to feel it not just once, but always.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, eyes bright and vulnerable, voice barely a whisper. "And if I forget?"

He smiled, brushing a finger along your lips. "Then I’ll remind you, every single day. With every glance, every touch, every moment you spend with me, you will never forget again."

[professorsnape394]

Seducing Mr Malfoy

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Reader Rating: 🥵 Summary: Lucius teaches his son how to properly treat a woman.

A/N: First time ever writing for Lucius. Please let me know what you all think of it!

Warnings: Violence (one instance of Domestic abuse?). Smut. Slapping kink. Degradation kink. Voyeurism. Oral (male receiving).

Word Count: 2569

Credits to Gif Creator.

Since his divorce Lucius had been living the high life as one of the wealthiest bachelors of the Wizarding World. Having been with Narcissa since leaving school he had never had much opportunity to sow his oats and truly explore the litany of woman at his disposal. It seemed now, that he was able to have whoever he wanted for however long he wanted; women loved a man in power, and Lucius had an abundance of it.

His son, Draco, on the other hand, was not coping quite so well in the absence of his mother, taking inspiration from his father to plough through a number of young witches’ keen to experience a taste of the Malfoy life, but never quite seeming satisfied by any of them.

Frustratingly, the kind of life Lucius led also required him to put in the work to retain his prestigious position at the Ministry of Magic. Which is what led him to working over the weekend in his home office, depriving him of the much-needed female attention he had quickly become addicted to.

Scribbling away furiously at his desk, Lucius was eager to finish his work and hit the town, leaving his son the privacy of the Manor to entertain his new girlfriend. Lucius usually never took an interest in the revolving door of young witches that passed through his house on the arm of his son, but his most recent girl had caught his attention on a number of occasions this week.

The first time Lucius saw her was fleeting. As he headed out the door as Draco was coming home, the young lady stopped him in his tracks. Usually, he would have ignored the woman, greeting his son with a brief nod before disappearing out the door, but something about her confidence to address him, intrigued him.  

“Mr Malfoy.” She greeted, stopping firmly at his feet.  “Y/N L/N. It’s a Pleasure to finally meet you.”

She held out her hand for him to take. He quirked an eyebrow at the firmness of her grip, impressed by her boldness.

“And you.” He stated simply, crushing her hand and flicking his gaze over her face.

While her clothing was similar to any other woman that he encountered these days; short and low cut. Her features drew him in unlike anyone ever had. Her doe like eyes made her look innocent, but the crimson shade on her lips told a different story altogether. Lucius could see why his son had chosen such a rare beauty.

She gazed up at him through a curtain of thick lashes, refusing to be the one to let go first.

“Hurry up.” Draco snapped, yanking her by the arm. “I didn’t bring you here to make small talk with my father.”

“I apologise for taking up your time, Mr Malfoy. I hope I see you again.” She flashed him a smile, idly nibbling on her plump bottom lip.

Lucius’ gaze latched on her mouth once more, finding it hard to drag himself away.

Finally, Draco stormed off, leaving the witch to scurry after him. Lucius couldn’t help but watch the sway of her hips as she sashayed her way up the grand staircase.

~

The second time he encountered Y/N, he heard her before he saw her.

After a long day at the office, Lucius crashed onto his bed exhausted, not even bothering to change out of his suit.

He awoke hours later, feeling groggy and uncomfortable. It was one of the rare nights he missed having his wife around to take care of him. Attempting to drown away the thoughts of his ex, Lucius poured himself a glass of aged whiskey and strolled to the bathroom to shower stresses of the day away.

It was on his return from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel, that his ears pricked up at a sound from down the hall.

“Oh God, oh God.” The woman’s muffled moan echoed out the room.

His son’s voice murmured a string of curses, followed by the sound of a hard slap. This seemed to only spurred the witch on; her moans turning from high pitched and fast, to long a long and throaty groan.

Lucius’ feet carried him towards the door without thought, finding it slightly ajar.

“Fuck. Please Draco.” She begged.

Another few harsh slaps sent the woman overboard. She reached her climax in a series of pants and whines, her voice growing louder as she came.

Lucius slowed his breathing, recklessly approaching the threshold. His dick had quickly become painfully hard, the friction of his tip rubbing against the towel driving him mad with desire. Taking a sip of his half-finished whiskey, Lucius dared peak through the crack in the door.

His eyes quickly landed on bed, the woman lying face up, panting breathlessly. Her bare chest rising and falling erratically with each breath. Lucius’ gaze roamed her naked body, stroking himself roughly over the fabric of the towel. His attention quickly turned to Y/N’s face, flushed with colour, cheeks burning red from the smack of Draco’s hand and her mascara had run down her face with tears. Lucius might have been worried she was in pain, were it not for the wild grin spreading from cheek to cheek.

In an instant Draco grabbed her roughly by her hair, flipping her body until she was lying face down on the mattress, ass perfectly positioned up. Lucius took a step away from the door, just in time to see the girl turning her head in his direction, staring mindlessly at the door while Draco rutted into her from behind. The older Malfoy watched on quietly from the shadows, alternating between sipping on his drink and tugging himself sore at the sight of Y/N’s eyes rolling back in her head.

Returning to his room, Lucius felt both dirty and unsatisfied, having not had the courage to finish himself off at risk of his son hearing his feral grunts. Putting his moment of impulsiveness down to feeling lonely and overworked, Lucius retired to his bed for the night, but not before downing the rest of the bottle of whiskey he kept on his dresser.

The following morning Lucius awoke with a pounding headache and an incredibly dry throat. Memories of the night before flooded his brain. He expected to feel shame over his actions, but instead he found himself replaying the images and the sounds of the woman over in his head, wishing he had been the one to illicit that kind of reaction from her. At risk of developing another erection, he forced himself out of bed, wandering down to the kitchen to fetch himself a glass of water.

A tortured groan slipped past Lucius lips at the sight he stumbled upon in his kitchen.

Y/N stood alone in the middle of his kitchen, wearing only a pair small pair of gym shorts and a crop top, stretching to reach one of the higher cabinets, placing her body perfectly on show for him to gawk at. Lucius’ eyes raked over her body, lasering in on her perky little ass and reminiscing on how completely edible she looked bent over last night.

“You know we have House Elves that can get that for you.” He finally spoke, leaning idly on the kitchen island.

The girl jumped at the sound of his voice, spinning on a heel to face him.

“Mr Malfoy. I didn’t hear you come down.” The view of her front was just as good; her breasts spilling over the neckline of her tight top, hard nipples on show from the chilly air that circulated the Manor.

“Mmm.” He hummed appreciatively. “I can be quite discreet when it serves me.”

“I noticed.” She stated plainly, staring directly into his eyes.

Lucius quirked an eyebrow stunned by her acknowledgment. Pushing himself from the counter, he slowly stalked towards her.

“Is that so?”

“You think I was being that loud for your son’s benefit?” She moved in closer, battling her long lashes at him as they came practically chest to chest.

“Speaking of Draco, where is my son?”

“He’s still asleep, probably won’t be up for hours yet.”

“Mmm.” Lucius hummed again, reaching out to brush a thumb along her lips. “Then is it a shame?”

“A shame, Mr Malfoy?” The girl searched his face for any insight into his thoughts.

“A shame I have to be heading into the office this morning.”

Y/N face fell at his words. Lucius took the woman’s chin between two fingers, tilting her gaze up to meet his eyes.

“Don’t be so loud, next time. He’ll think you’re enjoying it far too much.”

And with that Lucius disappeared from the room, leaving Y/N alone in the kitchen, squeezing her legs to fight off the quickly developed ache between her legs.  

~

The next time he saw Y/N enough time had passed that she had been on Lucius’ mind more often than appropriate for his son’s new girlfriend. Draco hadn’t brought her home in a few days and Lucius was starting to miss the sweet sounds that he liked to get himself off to every night that week.

Returning home from yet another tough day at work; Lucius ditched his coat at the door and headed straight for his whiskey cabinet, ready to drown himself in thoughts of her. He made it half way to the kitchen before his attention was drawn elsewhere. Soft cries floated through the house; a familiar voice pleading through broken sobs.

His sons voice; harsh and indignant, had him charging up the stairs.

“I said; Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” The younger of the Malfoy men, pushed the woman roughly to the ground; her knees smashing sorely onto the hardwood floors.

“Draco.” She sniffled, tears steaming down her face. The smile that once brightened her face long forgotten.

“Disobedient Bitch.” He spat.

With his heavily ringed right hand, Draco backhanded Y/N across the face.

The woman gasped from the force, quickly covering her cheek to ease the pressure.

Using his cane to catch onto his son’s collar, Lucius dragged his son away from Y/N.

“Draco.” He hissed into the boy’s ear, crushing his shoulder under his tight grip. “What exactly is going on here.”

Lucius dared to flick his eyes down to the woman now hunched over on the ground.

“She likes it.” He snapped back. “She gets off on shit like this; she’s sick.”

“It doesn’t look like she is enjoying it to me.”

“It’s none of your- “

“SILENCE.” Lucius commanded his son. “I thought I taught you to treat women better than this.”

He stepped slowly in Y/N’s direction, stopping just in front of her knees. He took her face in his hand, tilting her chin to look up at him as he had done the last time they met.

“A woman like this deserves the utmost care and attention. She should be worshipped. Not beaten to the ground like a common Elf.” He used his thumb to wipe away her tears, gently stroking the bright red imprint on her cheek.

“If that is something you do not understand, then you do not deserve to have her at all. She deserves more. Someone who understands the nuances of women. Someone who will treat her like a Queen during the day; and punish her like the slut she is at night.”

Y/N’s wicked grin returned, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as she pictured Lucius doing everything to her that he just promised. Her eyes dropped forward to his crotch; it didn’t come as a surprise to her that he was already hard just from seeing her on her knees like this.

“Is that what you want, Darling?”

She liked the dryness from her lips, blinking up at him through teary eyes and nodded.

Lucius reached for the buckle of his belt, starting to undo the fastening of his trousers.

“Leave us, Draco.”

“But Father.” The boy stuttered, dumbfounded by the situation unfolding before him.

“I said LEAVE. Unless you want to feel the sting of my hand across your face.”

The boy stumbled from the room, leaving his father and girlfriend alone in the thick silence of the Manor.

Y/N leaned into Lucius’ touch as he cupped her cheek and finished undoing his belt.

“I’ve been waiting for this all week.”

Lucius groaned at her words, putting his hand down his unzipped trousers, easing some of the tension in his boxers.

“Don’t tell me you were thinking of me the whole time you were fucking my good-for-nothing son.”

“What if I told you I was only fucking him to get to you. That every night I made sure to moan loud enough for you to hear in the hopes that you would burst through the door and take me just for yourself. I wanted you to show him how it was done, how I sounded when I came all over your cock.”

“Mmm. Draco was right about one thing; you are sick.”

“What if I told you I got tired of waiting. That I came here tonight with the intention of seducing you.” She paused before deciding whether to continue. “I told Draco I was ending things with him tonight.”

Understanding dawned on Lucius.

“Is that why he was acting that way? Because you broke it off with him.”

Y/N nodded, dropping her gaze.

“That boy is not used to being told ‘no’. He never deserved you.”

“Let’s not talk about Draco anymore. He’s taken up more of my time than I would ever want.”

Y/N ran her hands up Lucius’ thighs, jumping up to her knees again.

“Ready, Sweetheart?”

Lucius pulled his dick from his trousers, pumping himself roughly in front of her lips, precum already dripping from his tip.

Y/N stuck her tongue out eagerly, licking the length of his slit clean. Lucius removed his hands allowing, Y/N to take charge.

Watching her wrap her lips around his cock, Lucius hissed at the contact.

Almost instantly she gagged from the size of him hitting the back of her throat.

“Relax.” He ordered. “Take your time.”

Y/N sat back on her haunches, this time taking him slowly into her mouth. She swirled her tongue leisurely around his tip, making sure he was fully lubricated before sucking him up an inch at a time.

Good Girl.” He hummed, tipping her chin up again, wanting to maintain eye contact with her.

Lucius kept his hands on either side of her face, gently guiding her movements. She bobbed her head rhythmically, savouring every second of finally tasting him in her mouth.

“Keep going, Darling, that feels incredible.” Lucius encouraged.

“Mmmm.”

Y/N whined, finally feeling his tip hit the back of her throat, threatening to surpass the boundary. She rubbed her thighs together but to no avail, the throbbing ache that had started between her legs would not be so easily satiated. Delving her fingers beneath the band of her underwear Y/N slipped her fingers between her folds, focusing on rubbing circles around her clit.

“You have no patience.” Lucius scolded, eyes lowering on her body. “You’ll get what you need soon enough.”

Lucius pulled Y/N to her feet, his cock coming out his mouth with a pop.

“How about I show you exactly what I have been dreaming about all week?”

Her doe eyes slanted seductively at his words.

“Lead the way, Mr Malfoy.”

. . . Taglist:

@pear-1206

[enzosbabyangel]

Harry Potter characters and sugar daddies

✰ Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy

On the fourth day of christmas my true love sent to me, four thousand dollars | 12 days of christmas master list

og a/n: i made up a name for Harry’s daughter lmao. Remus was removed because i couldn’t come up with an idea for him and couldn’t imagine him as a sugar daddy, i will make up for it in the future thanks to my amazing friend @winnie1emon coming up with a cute idea <3 did i post this earlier then i was supposed to by accident? yes yes i did.

current a/n: This was originally made on my old blog as part of my ‘12 days of christmas’ event. This was all written like five months ago and i just re-posted onto here. i didn’t proofread anything lmao or remember what was in this or the Remus idea. still love @/winnielemon though 💞💞 format is also my old ugly one that i was too lazy to change lmfao

✰ Content warnings: nsfw, MINORS DNI, 18+, age gap, , reader in Harrys is a bit bitchy, cheating, reader is a half blood in Lucius’, you could imagine it as muggle or blood traitor if you’re a pureblood💞

✧ 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒫𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You used to be his daughter’s best friend, Giselle. You two were inseparable, meeting in college and becoming best friends. You constantly slept over at each other’s houses during weekends or holidays. You often attended dinner at the Potters as Giselle lived off-campus.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Another reason you were so willing to attend dinners at the Potters was because of… well… your best friend’s father.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Yep, the infamous Harry Potter. No, it wasn’t because of his popularity. It was because of his sheer talent in bed. Good at fingering you, eating you out, fucking you, fucking your tits, he made everything feel good and he was fucking talented.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Almost nothing could make you give up that man. Well, until you found out Giselle, your ‘best friend’ was spreading shit about you and stealing from you. You completely snapped, shouting and taking all your stuff back. Completely messing up her room in the process. ‘The bitch got what was coming.’ you thought to yourself.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . After that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Potters. Much to Harrys dismay,

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Please Y/N, just calm down. I’m sorry about what Giselle did but i’ll talk to her about it- tell her to give you some money… anything.” Harry practically begged as he lightly grabbed your arm to stop you. His eyes pleading as he looked down at you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “No! i don’t want your money, just leave me alone.” You said, eyebrows furrowing slightly in annoyance as you glanced behind you to Harry. Tugging your arm out of his grip you grabbed your coat off of the hanger, putting it on hurriedly. The buttons being messily done up to close it and keep you warm from the coldness outside.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Just as you finished doing your coat up, Harry spoke up before you could leave, “Hold on a second, please.” Quickly leaving the room as you were left to stand in the hallway of the front door. Your arms crossed as you rolled your eyes but decided to grant his wish, staying put.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And just about a minute later he came back, your eyes widening and mouth opening slightly as you looked at the two grand in his hands. You glanced up at him before back at the money. You knew what he was trying to imply. With raised brows you looked back up at him, a shocked look on your face, asking with a dumbfounded tone, “All of that is for.. me?”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Harry didn’t say anything in return, just nodding as he looked at you with the same pleading eyes, mixed with a bit of shame. Evidently in his small smile.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And that leads to now. Harry slurping at your pussy, tongue flicking at your sensitive clit or exploring the inside of your tight walls as you rode his face. Holding onto the headboard for support as you looked down at Harrys messy hair that covered the pillow his head rested on. His glasses thrown on the bedside table. His hands resting along your waist as he ate your pussy as if it was his last meal.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Your body was laced in sweat as your hips moved back and forth, his nose occasionally making a pang of delicious pleasure shoot through your body as you bit your cheek, moans falling from your mouth.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Shit..” You let out through a moan as your right hand moved down to grab a handful of Harrys hair. The movements of your hips becoming more speratic as you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . A tug at Harrys hair had him groaning into your pussy, adding to pleasure you were feeling and a couple more flicks of his tongue to your clit made you finally cum. Hips stuttering as you slowly rode through your orgasm, loud moans filling the room.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . As you finally came down from your high, you plopped down onto the bed next to Harry, catching your breath as you sat, back resting against the headboard. You glanced down at Harry to see him wiping your arousal from his flushed face. His hand moving to grab his glasses off his bedside table as he sat up.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . As you caught your breath you sat back up, grabbing and putting your panties back on. While you did that Harry got some money from the bedside drawer and turning his body, tapping your shoulder.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You glanced over at him, soft smile forming on your face as you saw the one grand he had pulled out for you. You uttered a ‘thank you’ and took it from him, taking the money and placing it beside you as you moved to the edge of the bed. Picking up your oversized t-shirt and black booty shorts.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “So uh… i was just wondering… maybe you and i could go to the movies tomorrow? i remembered Giselle talking about how excited you were for… a um… that horror movie to come out.” Harry awkwardly spoke as he watched you get dressed again.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You put your knee high boots on, stopping for a slight second as his words sunk in. “Oh… i would love to but i have a tutor sesh tomorrow.” You said, a sheepish smile on your face as you finished buckling up your boots. Grabbing your bag with one hand. Placing the one grand inside. your bag you quickly made your way around the bed, placing a soft kiss to his cheek, “Maybe another time?” You suggested with a soft smile before quickly leaving the room.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You didn’t bother to hear what he said next. You didn’t want him pestering you on when that other time would be. You tried desperately to push Harry away if it wasn’t for sex, not because you’re a bitch… you were just conflicted with your growing feelings for Harry and keeping the secret that you have a boyfriend from him.

✧ 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You met Draco at a Fluorish and Blotts, where you were for a book signing. You payed him no mind at first, despite his not-so-subtle staring and smirk on his face, looking you up and down. The typical, rich, creep behaviour. The second you got your book signed you hurried off to the exit, but alass he still got to you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . What he did, unsurprisingly was try to charm his way into your pants. walking down the road with you as he pretended to be oh so interested in your interest of the writer you came to see today. Then interested in your time at Hogwarts, commenting on how he left fourteen years ago. It’s comedic how he didn’t realize that made everything ten times creepier. His continuous attempts at bringing you home failed each time.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Until, he offered you two thousand dollars. Who could blame you? you’re a twenty year old college student with a student loan. that two thousand can go a long way. So, he came home with you that night.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And now, a year later, he’s still paying you.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Fuck baby… s’your god damn pussys the best,” He let out through breathy moans. His hips slamming into you at an animalistic and somewhat impressive-for-his-age pace.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin as your nails scratched across his back. The pace of his thrusts prevented you from getting in a proper breath.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Such a slut… selling your body to some old man for money?” He commented with a smirk, arms lifting himself higher up above you so that he could stare down at you. “Don’t even need to pay off your student loan anymore and you still let me do what i want with you.” He continued on with a chuckle. “Do you just love me that much? or the money?”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You were being too fucked out to properly understand his words or form an answer as you just nodded, letting out little babbles in response. Draco just chuckled as he listened to your incoherent responses, finding pride in how he managed to leave you completely stupid with his dick.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Your moans started becoming for frequent as you gradually drew closer to coming undone. Draco was too as his thrusts became sloppier and he continued to spew random, dirty words and thoughts at you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You came first, clenching around him as your legs shook around his waist. Draco moaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, completely stopping his thrusts to soak in the feeling before pulling out, spurts of cum quickly landing on your stomach as you watched with eyes lazy with lust.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Draco plopped down beside you, and what happened after you don’t know as you quickly fell asleep.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . When you woke up in the morning you had fresh pjs on and Draco was gone. You stretched in bed, the relief feeling good before you flopped back over on your side. Laying comfortably in your bed as you smiled slightly to yourself at the sheer comfort you felt. Your laziness didn’t stay though as you saw the large amount of cash on your desk, quickly sitting up and scooting over to the large stacks of cash. The total amount had to at least be around ten grand. Next to the cash was a small, ripped from a notebook peace of paper. You grabbed it and read it, wanting some type of explanation for the amount he gave you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ‘around fifteen grand here for you. why? well it’s been a year since we met. an unofficial anniversary ;)’

✧ 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝓊𝓈 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Lucius was a… special situation. Maybe not really a sugar daddy. The money he gave you was more… ‘keep quiet money’. Money given to you to make sure you kept your mouth shut about the fact he was cheating on his wife with a ‘disgusting’ half blood.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Maybe he did pay you for sex a bit, but majority of the money was to keep you quiet. He was ashamed of himself of course, tempted by a halfblood. But god, he couldn’t help it. The soft curve of your body, the way your beautiful H/T, H/C hair framed your face. The way the maid uniform fit you. The soft hum of your voice that he hears in the early hours of the morning while you’re preparing dinner. Everything about you was addictive, as if you were trying to seduce him.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You were so addictive, in fact, that he’ll pull you into his office and take you right then and there,

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Ah-! Sir-“ You managed to get out through laboured breaths as you desperately gripped at the edge of the desk you were bent over. Your body jolting upwards with every thrust of his hips.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . A harsh slap pained your ass as you let out a mix of a gasp and a moan. “Silence,” was all Lucius let out as his hand tangled in your hair and pulled. He used you as if you were a mere sex toy to him.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Lucius set his hand down on the free bit of desk next to you, leaning forward as he spoke, his tone cold and degrading. “What a filthy excuse of a woman, letting a man in a marriage use you as they please.” A slap to your ass, his tone turning slightly more amused as he continued. “And tempting a man in a marriage at that.”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You only shook your head at his words, your eyes squeezing shut as your moans made your attempts at speaking fail, unable to vocally deny his words. You simply accepted the words as you let your head drop forward, you could tell that he was getting close when his grip on your hair tightened and his thrusts sped up in urgency.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . When he did cum he immediately pulled out, his cum spurting onto your bare back and ass. Some reaching your uniform where it was bunched up at your waist.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . After his high he simply stuffed himself back in his pants, straightening up his appearance. He picked you up by your arm and pulled you up, just to drop you on the floor. He quickly reorganized his desk, that was already quite neat before he fucked you on it.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “You can stay in here and… please yourself if you must.” Lucius spoke as he rummaged through his wallet. adding two grand in ‘keep quiet’ money on top of the five hundred ‘let me fuck you’ money. He didn’t even spare you a glanced as he closed up his wallet and placed it back into his pocket, maneuvering his way around you and his desk.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “I’ll lock the door so that nobody can walk in. You have spare keys to this room to get out if i’m correct?” He asked with a raised brow, eyeing you as he watched you clumsily get up, not uttering a word. You nodded in response to his words, causing him to just slightly smile.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Good.” he spoke before turning and leaving the room. You stood awkwardly as you listened to the lock of the door and the slowly disappearing sound of footsteps. Feeling a mix of shame and guilt, though the feeling was quickly replaced with acceptance as your gaze dropped from the door to the two grand and five hundred on the table.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Well, a girls gotta do what she’s gotta do.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Written by ankoluvly, december 2024 on tumblr. Do not republish on ANYTHING ©

tags: @screamingoverfiction @nofingjustaninchident @willowlovestheweasleys @manesuaves @pizzaapeteer(idk if you want to be tagged but i remember you saying you were excited for these. just tell me if you don’t want to be !)

[dragonlover736]

Please, Daddy?

Summary: Kinktober 2025, Day 6 - Daddy

Pairings: Lucius Malfoy x f!reader

Warnings/tags: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI - Age gap, Lucius is in his early 40’s while reader is 18-19, cheating, daddy kink, rough sex, kinda DD/LG coded

A/N: I actually fell asleep while editing this otherwise it would’ve been uploaded yesterday. Anyway, this one is nothing but pure filth compared to the others, regardless, I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

The dim corridors of the Malfoy Manor echoed with the soft pitter-patter of rain against the leaded windows. A storm raged outside that mirrored the one in your heart. You were supposed to be here for Draco, he was your best friend, after all. You were the one he would confide in about his family’s burdens, about his uncertain future, and not to mention that there was often a hint of something more between the two of you. Stolen glances in the Slytherin common room, times where his hand brushed against yours whenever you’d study together, a hand on the small of your back as you both walked through the halls of Hogwarts. But Draco, even with his sharp wit and silver tongue, paled in comparison to the man who commanded the manor like a dark king—his father, Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius was everything you’ve ever wanted. He was tall and imposing, with hair like platinum thread and eyes that could both freeze or burn, depending on his mood. His cane always tapped rhythmically as he moved, a symbol of power that never failed to make your legs feel like spaghetti. Sometimes, you’d catch him watching you during dinners, his gaze lingering on your form for a fraction too long. To most, it seemed as if he was silently judging you, as if he was trying to calculate if you were good enough for his son. But you knew better. There was hunger there, buried beneath all those icy layers of his pride. And tonight, while Narcissa was away and Draco retired early, you had your chance to prove it.

You’d dressed for it, too, in a simple black dress that hugged your curves. Innocent enough to pass as evening wear, but short enough to tease. Slipping into the library where Lucius often was, you found him by the fire, a glass of finely aged wine in his hand along with a book. He didn’t look up at first, but you knew he was aware of your presence. 

“Good evening,” he drawled, his voice like velvet over steel as he finally addressed you. “Shouldn’t you be attending to my son? Or has he bored you already?”

You stepped closer, your heart feeling as though it would pound straight out of your chest. You feigned a childish pout that you’d practiced in the mirror nights beforehand. You wanted to see him break, to make this untouchable man surrender to the taboo thrill of having someone young like you. “Draco’s asleep, Mr. Malfoy. And I… Well, I couldn’t sleep. The storm scares me,” you replied, your voice lifted higher, seemingly innocent, with your hands twisting in the hem of your dress like a nervous schoolgirl.

He finally looked up, arching a perfect brow. “Scared? At your age? How quaint,” he remarked, as if he were uninterested. But you noticed the flicker in his eyes that told you otherwise. Amusement? Intrigue? It didn’t matter, it was enough for you to press forward. You closed the distance, practically scampering over until you were beside his armchair, perching yourself on the armrest like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Daddy— I mean, Mr. Malfoy,” you corrected with a giggle, letting the slip hang in the air. You noticed how his grip tightened on the book he was holding, the pages bowing under his force. “You’ve always been so strong,” you continued, batting your eyelashes as you leaned in, your breath ghosting the shell of his ear. “Protect me from the storm, won’t you?”

Lucius set his glass down with a deliberate clink. While his expression remained indifferent, you noticed the way his throat worked as he swallowed. “What game are you playing, girl? You’re a companion of my son. This is hardly appropriate behavior.”

You slid into his lap then, shameless and brash, with your legs still dangling over the side of the armchair. You felt him stiffen against you, but made no effort into pushing you away. “But Daddy,” you whined, tracing a finger down his chest, over the fine silk of his shirt. “Draco doesn’t make me feel safe like you do. He’s just a boy, I need a real man to take care of me.” Your hips shifted subtly, grinding against him. A smirk graced your features when you got your desired effect, feeling the evidence of his interest stirring beneath you.

His hand shot out, taking a hold of your wrist, his grip firm. “Enough. You have no idea what you’re toying with,” he commanded, voice low and dangerous. His eyes, however, were filled with desire, betraying the very words that fell from his mouth.

You pouted again, wriggling closer. “Please Daddy? I’ve been such a good girl, but sometimes… I get these naughty thoughts. About you.” You leaned in, pressing a faint kiss to his jaw, then another lower on his neck. “I dream about you punishing me when I’m bad… or rewarding me when I’m good.” Your free hand slid lower, slipping between your bodies to massage him through his trousers. Finally, you felt him fully harden under your touch. 

Lucius hissed, his control over the situation fraying. “You insolent little—” But his words were cut off when you ground against him harder, your dress riding up to expose a matching pair of lace panties. You had known Lucius since your third year at Hogwarts after you become friends with his son, however, you were no longer a child anymore. Making him realize that was the key to unlocking his restraint. 

“Tell me to stop, Daddy,” you whispered, nipping at his ear. “Or… show me what happens to naughty girls who tease their elders.”

That did it. With a growl, Lucius skillfully pinned you down onto the plush rug before the fire, his book long forgotten as it stuck the floor with a loud thump. His form loomed over your own, the fire casting your shadows across the library's floor. “You want to play this game?” He snarled, his hands shoving your dress up past your waist. “Then you’ll play by my rules, little one,’ he stated, his fingers hooking into your panties, yanking them down with a rip of the fabric. You gasped, the cool air immediately hitting your exposed core, but he gave you no time to adjust.

He knelt between your legs, his sharp features twisted in a mix of lust and loathing. “Daddy’s going to teach you a lesson.” His mouth descended, tongue flitting out to taste you, precise and demanding. You arched into him, crying out softly at the contact, forcing him to press a hand over your mouth. “Quiet, pet. We wouldn’t want Draco to hear how his best friend begs for his father’s cock.”

The words alone sent a rush of excitement through your veins. He lapped at your folds with precision, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Without warning, he pressed two fingers into you, curling them against your gummy walls until he found the spot that made you squeal. You whimpered like a scolded child as he sucked hard at your clit, pleading against the hand over your mouth as your own reached down to tangle into that perfect hair of his. 

Lucius groaned against you, the vibration going straight to the heat in your core. “Such a tight little thing. All for me,” he praised, though his tone was sharp and demeaning. He added a third finger, the stretch a delicious burn that pulled you closer towards your climax. “Come for Daddy, and maybe I’ll give you what you really want,” he taunted, abusing your small cunt with his long fingers.

The command tipped you over. Ecstasy ran through you, your walls clenching around his fingers as your cries were muffled against his palm. He didn’t relent, working you through it until you were trembling and oversensitive, like it was all second nature for him. 

His lips glistened with your arousal as he pulled back, a feral look in his cold grey eyes. He swiftly unfastened his trousers, pulling them down and freeing his impressive length. You couldn’t help but admire him, mouth practically drooling as you took in the sight of his cock. Long, veined, and already leaking from the tip. “On your knees,” he commanded, the hand that once covered your mouth now gripped your jaw. “Show Daddy how sorry you are for your teasing.”

You obeyed eagerly, tongue darting out to wrap around his throbbing length before taking him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the saltiness that beaded up for you. It wasn’t long before Lucius was threading his fingers in your hair, forcing you down onto his length until you took him whole. “That’s it, good girl,” he commended, guiding your rhythm as you struggled to take all of him down your throat. The praise made you hum appreciatively, vibrating around him and drawing a rare moan from his lips.

He used your mouth until tears dripped down your face, your nails digging into his thighs to ground you. He pulled you off of him then, pulling you up and maneuvering you until you were bent over the armchair. In one swift thrust, he entered you, your wet heat swallowing him whole. The sudden fullness was overwhelming, and he gave you no time to adjust as his hips snapped into your own at a rapid pace. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. “Seducing me under my own roof.” Each word was punctuated with a deliberate thrust, his hands roughly gripping your ass, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he spread you apart for him.

“Yes Daddy!” you moaned in response, pushing back against him to meet his thrusts. The once quiet library was now filled with the sounds of skin against skin, the squelching of your juices, and the sounds of your wanton moans mingling with his grunts. It echoed through the isles of books, and drowned out the crackling of the fireplace. You were surprised that Draco hadn’t awoken, hadn’t discovered you in the library getting pounded by his fathers cock. A part of you almost wished that he would, your imagination could only do so much to determine his reaction.

A sharp thrust broke you out of your daydream before Lucius’s pace faulted, he was close and it showed. He reached under you, lithe fingers snaking down to rub your clit. “Come with me, pet,” he panted out, pressing you closer to him. You couldn’t help but to obey, your body convulsing around him, milking him dry as he spilled into you with a guttural curse. You felt him throb inside you, his own body shuddering as he wrapped his arms around you. “This changes nothing,” he murmured, but the arms around your waist told you otherwise. You made him give in, and the game was far from over.

[anawritez-posts]

𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 | 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Y/N stands her ground as her mother warns her to stay away from Tom Riddle, Voldemort’s son. But Y/N has already made her choice—and he’s waiting outside.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 -Literally inpsired by the Outerbanks audio...Don't know why I hadn't written this earlier...

The sitting room was cloaked in a kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful it was the silence before a storm.

Y/N stood by the fireplace, arms folded, the deep green trim of her Slytherin robes clashing boldly against the Ravenclaw tones that dominated the room.

Her twin sister Lily ever the softer of the two sat perched on the edge of the armchair, her Hufflepuff jumper practically blending into the pastel upholstery. She looked between them anxiously, chewing her lower lip.

Their mother, Y/M/N, stood rigid in front of the hearth, her expression tight, as though one wrong word might crack her porcelain composure.

“You are not to go near that family again,” their mother said, voice low but stern. “I don’t care what sort of spell he’s cast on you he’s you know who's son.”

Y/N scoffed. “And I’m Regulus Black’s daughter. what point are you trying to prove?”

“That’s not the same.”

“No?” Y/N stepped forward, firelight dancing in her eyes. “Because it sounds like it is. It sounds exactly like it is. I’m a Slytherin. You never forgave me for that. Merlin forbid I’m not a Ravenclaw like you.”

Y/M/N’s lips pursed, but she said nothing.

“And now,” Y/N continued, “you want me to fall in line. Date Harry. Be safe. Be proper. Be a good little witch and do what I’m told.”

“Harry is kind,” her mother shot back. “He’s good. He would’ve looked after you.”

Y/N laughed — not with humour, but disbelief.

“You mean he’d make me smaller. More manageable. You’re so terrified I’ll end up with someone dark that you’d rather I end up with someone dull.”

Lily gave a tiny gasp, but their mother’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t speak about him like that.”

“Why not?” Y/N snapped. “Because he’s the golden boy? The Chosen One? Or because he’s the safe choice you wanted me to make? Merlin, Mum — you are so afraid I’ll do what you did.”

Her mother went still. “Excuse me?”

Y/N’s voice was a whisper now, low and furious. “You’re terrified I’ll sleep with a Death Eater like you did.”

The words hit the room like a curse.

Even the fire seemed to shrink.

Lily froze.

Y/M/N’s face drained of colour, her eyes suddenly full of something rawer than anger and shame.

Before another word could be said, a quiet knock sounded from the window.

Y/N didn’t flinch. She turned slowly, pulled back the curtain and there, standing in the shadows of the garden, was Tom Riddle.

He stood tall and still, his eyes locked on hers through the glass.

There was no smirk on his lips.

No charm. Just intent. And patience.

He’d heard everything.

Y/N turned back to her mother, who now stood rigid, jaw clenched, hands trembling slightly at her sides.

Y/N tilted her chin up, eyes steady.

“Well, guess what?” she said softly, almost gently.

She stepped toward the window, unlatched it just enough for the air to stir her hair.

“I already did.”

The silence cracked.

Her mother didn’t speak.

Her eyes darted between her daughter and the boy outside, the boy with the name that had once haunted the Wizarding World.

And in that moment with the cold wind blowing in, and Lily watching from the shadows, and Tom standing sentinel beneath the moonlight Y/N looked every bit like the woman her mother had tried to prevent her from becoming.

And yet… more powerful than she’d ever imagined.

[veaspo]

slytherin boys + pansy nsfw links

(only works if you're logged into twitter!)

tom riddle;

angry sex with tom riddle

69 with tom riddle

tom throat fucking you

mattheo riddle;

jerking off mattheo

riding mattheo

public sex with mattheo

blaise zabini;

car sex with blaise

anal with blaise

riding blaise

draco malfoy;

dry humping with draco

car sex with draco

giving draco a bj

lorenzo berkshire;

you being desperate for lorenzo

mutual masturbation with lorenzo

mating press with lorenzo

theodore nott;

giving theo a bj

car sex with theo

rough sex with theo

pansy parkinson;

futa! pansy jacking off infront of you

dry humping with pansy

pansy eating your pussy

—

i didn't look at tags, i searched like things up so if there are some wild tags, thats why, i stopped looking at the tags near the end lol. same with audio, i didnt listen to the sound so if they say some wild shit, thats totally my fault😭

[lacyydollette]

PERKS OF HAVING A GIRLFRIEND ᰋ AARON HOTCHNER

pairing ᰋ aaron hotchner x reader

summary ᰋ perks of having a girlfriend that ran hot as shit at night was that clothes were pretty much nonexistent and that gave hotch the perfect opportunity to devour you whole anytime of the day. masterlist

warnings ᰋ smut smut smut﹙ 18+ ﹚lewd language. munch!hotch agenda being pushed.

perks of having you as a girlfriend was that you ran hot at night, so clothes just didn’t exist in your dictionary. maybe a shirt of aaron that was way too big on you—on a good day—and nothing else.

which brings us to the second point which is that it gave hotch a pretty good easy access in the mornings to do his job as being the alarm since you were a heavy sleeper.

it’s the same routine every time. he usually wake up a little early for his morning run anyway and then he’s on you. gently getting inside the covers kissing his way down your thighs.

he shifts under the covers, the fabric a soft weight over both of you. the air is warm from your body heat, smelling faintly of your body wash and whatever body oil you’ve applied the night before. aaron’s movements are deliberate but unhurried; he has time.

he parts your thighs with a firm but gentle pressure of his hands, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin where they meet your hips. he doesn’t rush to the main event. he kisses the hollows of your hips, the crease where thigh meets torso, his stubble a delicious, rough counterpoint to the softness of his lips. he’s just breathing you in for a moment, his warm breath ghosting over you, making you twitch in your sleep.

then he leans in and gives a slow, flat lick from your entrance up to your clit. the sensation is a slow, creeping wave of heat that pulls you from the depths of sleep. a soft sigh escapes your lips as your body arches instinctively toward his mouth. you recognize him even in your sleep and he takes that as his cue, his hands coming up to grip your hips, holding you open for him.

his tongue is an instrument of pure, focused pleasure. he starts with broad, languid strokes, coating you in his saliva, getting you wet and ready. he explores every fold, every curve, learning your all over again as if it’s the first time. he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing, before flattening it and giving it a firm, slow suck. your hands fly down to tangle in his hair, your hips rocking against his face as you chase the sensation.

he groans against you, the vibration sending a jolt straight through your core. he loves this. loves the taste of you, the way your body responds to him, the soft sounds you make. he doubles down, his tongue becoming more insistent, more pointed. he flicks your clit rapidly, then seals his lips around it and sucks, hard. your breath hitches, your back arching off the bed as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak.

“shit,” you gasp, your voice thick with sleep and arousal.

he hums in response, his tongue never ceasing its delicious torture. he slides one hand from your hip, his fingers finding your entrance. he teases you, circling the tight ring of muscle before slowly pushing one, then two fingers inside. he curls them just so, finding that spot that makes you see stars. his mouth works your clit in tandem with his fingers, a perfect, relentless rhythm that pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

your thighs start to shake, your grip on his hair tightening. the world narrows to the feeling of his mouth on you, his fingers inside you, the coiling tension in your belly. he can feel you’re close, your body clenching around his fingers. he sucks your clit harder, his tongue flicking it in a frantic rhythm, and that’s all it takes—

that’s all it takes—except he stops.

his mouth pulls back just enough to leave you hovering, a breath away from the fall. the only point of contact is the kitten-soft flick of his tongue against your clit, a maddening, teasing rhythm designed to keep you right on the razor’s edge. your hips jerk, trying to force more pressure, but his hands hold you firm, pinning you to the mattress.

“say my name baby?” he murmurs, the words a low vibration against your soaked flesh.

“please,” you whine, the sound thin and desperate. you shove the blanket down just enough to glare at him, and the sight nearly makes you come anyway. his hair is a wreck, his lips and chin are wet and shining with you, and his eyes are dark with smug satisfaction. god, what a sight.

“mm,” is all he says, a noncommittal hum against your clit that makes your whole body clench. he’s not giving in.

“james?” you grit out, a petty, triumphant barely there smirk touching your own lips. you know exactly what you’re doing. this is the downside—no, the brilliant side—of having a girlfriend who knows exactly which buttons to push. you rail him any fucking chance you get, just to see that muscle in his jaw twitch.

can’t help it he just looks so hot when he’s annoyed.

his eyes narrow. he doesn’t say a word. instead, he pulls his hand back and delivers a sharp, stinging slap directly to your pussy. the sound is wet and loud in the quiet room, and the jolt of pleasure-pain that follows is electric. it steals the air from your lungs and sends a fresh gush of wetness against his palm.

“wrong answer,” he grits out, before his mouth is back on you, devouring you with a renewed, punishing intensity. he sucks your clit hard, his tongue working frantically, pushing you right back to the peak in seconds. just as you’re about to tumble over, he stops again.

“try again,” he commands, his voice rough.

you gasp, writhing beneath him. “fuck. you, james.”

another slap. harder this time. you cry out, your back bowing off the bed. the sting blooms into a deep, throbbing heat that makes your head spin. tears of frustration and overwhelming sensation prick at the corners of your eyes.

“one more,” he warns, his tone leaving no room for argument. his fingers replace his tongue, curling inside you, pressing mercilessly against that spot while his thumb rubs tight, fast circles on your clit. the pressure is immense, a coiling spring in your gut wound so tight it’s about to snap.

“aaron,” you sob, the name tearing from your throat as a tear finally escapes and slides down your temple. “please, fuck, it’s aaron.”

“good girl,” he praises, and the relief is so immediate it’s dizzying. he seals his mouth over your clit and sucks, his fingers pumping into you with a perfect, relentless rhythm. he doesn’t tease anymore. he takes what he wants, giving you exactly what you need. the orgasm that hits you is violent, explosive. it rips through you, stealing your vision and your breath, leaving you a shaking, sobbing, boneless mess. he works you through every aftershock, his touch softening as you come down, until you’re nothing but a pliant, trembling form beneath the sheets.

see? he’s so sweet when you corporate.

only then does he crawl up your body, kissing a trail over your stomach and tits until he reaches your lips. he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“need to leave in 10, i’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs against your lips, a rare, soft smile in his voice when he sees your dazed expression.

he can’t wait to get back.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

THOROUGHLY DEALT WITH

18+ MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you're angry with aaron for missing an important event, so naturally, he fucks the anger out of you. warnings | an: UMMMM ok so! p in v sex, fingering & oral (f receiving) spanking, drooling, overstimulation, masturbation, light d/s elements, choking & mirrors (can u tell i have my favs) somnophilia mentioned, errthang consensual, age gap, just filth yalllll word count: 4.2k… i wrote this when i was ovulating,, my cycle unfortunately decides what content i post LOL

✧ masterlist

You began with his shirts. The infuriatingly pristine, colour-coded, pattern-matched shirts hanging in your closet. The one you once shared. After tonight, however, you’d have ample room for your winter coats.

It felt harsh, thinking that way. And perhaps, once the adrenaline had ebbed, you’d be curled up among those coats, using the sleeves as tissues. But for now, you let the mindset of pure rage, slight dramatics and fury take the lead.

You knew what you were stepping into, a relationship with a man who might as well have been the crown jewel of the FBI, given how seldom he was home. And you bore it with grace. You never demanded much, only ever asked for compromise when it mattered, when it truly mattered.

So one by one, the shirts sailed over the bannister, landing in a crumpled heap by the entryway. Cotton casualties of yet another one of his spectacularly poor decisions.

He’d missed it.

The one thing you’d asked him not to miss. Not a work dinner, not some meaningless social obligation, but your event. The one you’d planned for months, circled on the calendar, reminded him of over and over. The one he looked you dead in the eye and promised he’d be there for.

What did you get instead? A text.

I’m sorry. Something came up.

Something came up, indeed. The collapse of your relationship, for starters.

Okay, maybe that was the dramatics talking. Maybe you didn’t want it to end, but you wanted—no, needed—him to take you seriously. Because how dare he? How dare he treat your life like the flexible one? As if your moments were optional, but his moments, ones that revolved around blood, caution tape, and sirens were the ones that ever mattered.

And the worst part of it all was the fact that despite all your anger, you still missed him in a way that language couldn’t quite capture. He’d been out on a case for two weeks, and even before that, he was barely home, glued to that damn bureaucratic chair in his office like it deserved more of him than you did.

You’d spent the last eight hours convincing yourself you were done. Done making excuses for him. Done watching your life conform to his schedule, his job, him in general. But your body, the ultimate traitor, didn’t seem done with him at all. Not when your hand drifted between your legs in the shower, picturing the way he used to pin you there, palm flat against your sternum.

Not even now, when you were supposed to be standing your ground. You still found yourself wishing he’d walk through that door and press you against it, like he needed it just as badly as you did.

Maybe that’s all this was. Maybe all you needed was a good fucking.

And you knew that was exactly what you would’ve gotten, had he shown up like he promised. He would’ve started in the car, hand gripping your thigh, maybe even slipping under your dress, getting you all worked up before you’d even made it home.

Then he would’ve railed into you, bent you over the piano in the foyer, lights blazing because of course he’d want the neighbours to see exactly how he rewarded your hard work. But no. You went home alone. Worked up, pissed off, with every intent of emptying your wine stash. Which you did.

And now, you stood at the top of the stairs, breath uneven as your pulse pounded in your throat. And that’s when you heard it.

His car in the driveway.

Shoes. Yes. Shoes seemed poetic. Fitting. The perfect thing to hurl at him with all the grace of a woman scorned and denied an earth-shattering orgasm. Actually, orgasms—plural. Because he wouldn’t have stopped at just one. He would’ve teased the first out of you, held you at the edge until you begged, then made up for it with two more. Rewards for being so damn patient.

You turned on your heel and marched back into the closet, snatching the nearest pair of his smug little leather loafers. Polished, arrogant things, much like the man who owned them.

By the time he stepped through the front door, you were already back at your vantage point, arm cocked, waiting until he turned to launch the first shoe.

It missed his head by a fraction and slammed into the doorframe with a satisfying crack.

He froze, jacket slung over one arm, briefcase in hand, tie loosened and all.

“Hi, honey,” you called out, your voice sweet enough to rot teeth. Then came the second loafer which landed just short of his feet. “Figured I’d give you a hand with the packing,” you added, gesturing to the shirts across the entryway. “Consider it a head start. I assumed your schedule wouldn’t allow for sentimentality.”

He set his briefcase down first, then his jacket, but you didn’t stay to watch the performance. You were already halfway down the hall, disappearing into the closet like a woman possessed, and thoroughly, furiously sexually frustrated.

You grabbed as many of his jackets as your arms could carry, yanking them from the rack with such force—hangers still hooked—you were genuinely surprised the bar hadn’t come crashing down with them.

You heard him then, just shy of the dressing room, steps clear as day. You paused in the hallway and dropped the pile right where it met the doorway, letting the expensive fabric fall into a heap like a makeshift barricade.

Then, back into the closet you went. You reached for what was left, another jacket, two more blazers, and his beloved cashmere sweaters. You snatched them from their hangers like they were the ones that were responsible. And with your arms full again you turned, only to find him standing there. So close that you nearly walked right into him.

“Unless you’re here to carry these to the curb, I suggest you get the hell out of my way, Aaron.”

His eyes dropped briefly to the pile in your arms, then back to your face. “I’m not leaving.”

“Like hell you’re not—”

“Just put my things down and we can talk about this,” he said, with that infuriatingly calm voice that made you want to scream, in two very different ways. “I know I made a mistake.”

You scoffed and stepped closer, close enough to breathe him in. Not the crisp, clean scent you were used to in the mornings when he’d leave for work showered, shaven and put together.  No, this was him at the end of the day. The faint remnants of cologne clinging to his skin, mixed with something more worn-in, and when he exhaled, you caught the faintest trace of bourbon on his breath. Rossi’s doing, no doubt.

Probably his way of trying to calm him down.

You’d heard Dave refer to you as a ‘fiery one’ more than once, always with a little too much amusement in his voice. He’d even joked, right in front of you, that Aaron wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you. Said he’d fold if you ever gave him real attitude. Clearly, Rossi had sensed what kind of storm Aaron was walking into tonight and had handed him a glass like some kind of offering from the gods.

“So not only are you incapable of being unselfish for one night that doesn’t revolve around you, you also seem to have a stunningly poor ability to follow basic instructions,” you snapped, voice rising in a way that was rare. “Are you absolutely certain you went to FBI school, or did you half-ass that the way you half-ass everything else you claim to care about?”

“Are you done?”

“Not even fucking close. But go ahead, interrupt again. You’re great at that, right?” You shoved the pile of clothes into his chest, hard enough to make him take a step back. “Talking over people, brushing them off, missing everything that actually matters until it’s already too late.”

He stood there for a second, holding the clothes before letting them drop to the floor without a word. You let out a bitter laugh at the sight and moved to shoulder past him, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” you hissed, turning back to face him. “Don’t walk away from the man who didn’t show up? Don’t stop screaming because it’s the only thing that gets through that thick, federal skull of yours?”

“Don’t do this. Not when you want me more than you want me to leave.”

“What? Are you—are you actually insane? Delusional? Is this the sleep deprivation talking? Because if so, you can take that smug little fantasy and get the hell out of my house.”

He let go of your wrist, but only to step behind you. His hands moved to your hips, turning your body to position you in front of the island in the centre of the dressing room.

“You want me gone?” he asked.

You cocked your head slightly to the right, catching his reflection in the mirror ahead as he began to undo his tie.

“Say it,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours in the glass. “Say it while I’m inside you.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Not because you lacked words, lord knows you had plenty. And he hadn’t even scraped the surface of the venom still burning at the back of your throat. But your body—traitorous, wretched thing—had already betrayed you.

You were supposed to be holding your ground. Not standing there, spine taut, with him behind you, visibly restraining yourself from folding over the island and handing him all your anger, gift-wrapped in a neat little bow that read please, fuck me senseless.

His fingers brushed your waist, and your lungs locked up. Your throat was so dry your heart had taken to skipping two beats at a time, just to remind you to swallow.

“I missed one night,” he continued, his fingertips now trailing up the length of your forearms. “But I haven’t missed this. Not once.”

You let out a flimsy exhale, turning your head to meet his eyes in the mirror once more. “You think this makes it better?” You knew it did. Maybe this wasn’t the kind of answer that made sense in a normal relationship, but nothing about you and Aaron had ever been normal.

“No,” he answered like the gentleman he was pretending to be, knowing exactly what was coming. “But I think you want it anyway.” And then his hands dropped from your arms completely. “So…what’s it going to be?”

Your hands moved before your mind did, bracing yourself against the island, knuckles whitening as your spine arched over the marble.

He hummed in approval, hands moving to your neck, brushing your hair aside. “That’s what I thought.” You felt him press into you, the weight of him flattening you against the surface as his fingers found the zipper of your jeans.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you lied, needing to put up some kind of fight.

He stilled for half a second, then let out a quiet laugh. “No?” he mocked, dragging the denim down your thighs until it was bunched at your knees. “Then why are you shaking?”

“Because I can’t fucking stand you,” you spat, forehead pressing to the marble, breath fogging against it as you tried—really tried—to remember why you decided his wardrobe would look better scattered across the entryway.

You heard him click his tongue behind you.

“Honey,” he drawled, his voice so pleased and full in all the ways that you were seconds away from being.“You’re so wet your underwear’s turned three shades darker.” And just to prove your point, his thumb dragged slowly over the soaked fabric making your body jolt, forehead nearly smacking the marble with the force of the reaction.

“Step out of the jeans for me,” he murmured, tapping your right thigh first, then your left.

You kicked the material off one leg at a time, your balance swaying as you did, hands tightening around the edge of the island for strength because it was the only thing keeping you upright.

His hand slid up the backs of your legs again, brushing that spot where your ass met your thighs. Then, without a word, his fingers slipped underneath the gauzy material of your panties.

You sucked in a breath as his middle finger dragged through your folds.

“Do you remember what had you so pissed off in the first place?” he questioned, like he genuinely expected you to form a coherent sentence right now.

“Yes,” you groaned into the counter, hips bucking shamelessly against his hand.

“So greedy,” he tutted, pulling his finger back just enough to watch your hips chase it. “Want me out of the house. Throwing my things out like some scene from a bad divorce. But one finger and you’re already a whiny little mess?”

A strangled noise tore from your throat, something between a curse and a moan, as your hands gripped the counter tighter.

“How many times did you touch yourself while I was gone, hm?”

“I—fuck, I don’t—”

“You don’t know?” He pushed a thick finger inside you, making you hiss at the stretch. “That’s not a real answer. Try again.”

You bit down on your lower lip hard enough to sting, eyes fluttering shut as your body betrayed you all over again.

“I asked you a question.”

“Three,” you gasped. “Maybe four.”

He let out a low, satisfied noise. “Maybe? You lost count?”

“D-Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t need to,” he laughed, adding a second finger. “You’re doing it for me.”

Your right hand curled into a fist, accidentally knocking a bag off the side in the process. “I hate you,” you mewled, the words barely making it past your throat.

“Liar,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your spine as his fingers worked deeper, curling just right. “You don’t hate me. You hate that I know exactly how to make you come before I’ve even unzipped my pants.”

Your mouth was parted against the marble, and when a moan caught in your throat, you managed to drag it back down just barely. Coaxing it into a shaky breath instead, trying to cling to the last scraps of pride you had left. Because he was right. Infuriatingly right.

“Well?” you hissed, breath catching. “Are you going to unzip your pants, or are we still pretending your fingers are doing anything I didn’t handle on my own while you were gone?”

Your heard an unbothered chuckle from him first and then felt the sharp sting of his palm landing against your ass, second. The impact was muffled by the fabric of your underwear, but the message landed all the same.

“That’s sweet, dear. But I don’t remember hearing you make these kinds of noises the last time you decided to take care of yourself…right next to me.”

You jaw clenched.

It had only happened once. You thought he was asleep—clearly, he wasn’t. He’d gotten in late from work, and you hadn’t wanted to bother him, so you took matters into your own hands… literally.

In hindsight, it explained the sudden burst of sex drive the next morning. You’d woken up to his mouth between your legs like he was trying to make a point that he could always make you come harder.

His free hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head to the side as he angled your face toward the mirror. “This isn’t how you sounded then, is it?” he taunted, fingers slipping out of you just to circle your swollen clit instead.

You gasped, body jerking at the sudden change in pressure.

“And just for that—” his hand stilled, the contact vanishing altogether, “—you can wait.”

You took the chance to catch your breath, heart pounding as you clenched around nothing, blinking back the tears gathering in your waterline like they’d scheduled a meeting.  

Glancing at the mirror you saw his hands work his belt free and you were tempted. So incredibly tempted to prove him wrong, to reach down between your legs and finish what he so cruelly started. Just a few strokes, that’s all it would take. But before you could even move—

“Don’t.”

You stilled. Every muscle locked.

“Put one hand between your legs,” he continued, the sound of his belt sliding from the last loop sharp in your ears, “and I’ll bind both behind your back. You won’t come tonight. Or tomorrow.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, barely managing to pull air in. The fabric of your top clung to your skin, sticky with sweat and a rage that seemed to be dissipating by the second. All that remained in its place was a desperate, aching hunger for him.

You pressed your thighs together without thinking, chasing some kind of friction, some kind of relief, but Aaron’s hands were already on your hips. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of your underwear, tugging them down your legs.

You knew it was his favourite part, especially when he had you bent over nearly every surface in the house. He loved watching the strings of your wetness peel away with the fabric, loved when it dripped down your thigh.

Once you were free of the only barrier between the two of you, you braced yourself flat against the counter, arching your back just enough to let him swipe his thumb through your pussy, allowing him relish in your wetness like a ritual he never dared to skip.

“Still want me to go?” he asked, though his voice carried a gentler note.

You turned your head, eyes back on the mirror. “Just fuck me,” you whispered—no, begged. “Please.”

He leaned in, bending over you to press a kiss to the inside of your forearm. Then another, trailing lazily up the length of your arm to your shoulder. Behind you, you felt his hand move between your bodies, hearing the rustle of fabric as he pushed his boxers down.

He aligned himself with you, dragging the thick length of his cock between your thighs, letting you feel everything. Every vein, every throbbing inch, the obscene heat of him paired with the wet slip of precum he spread over you.

You keened out a moan, barely managing to keep yourself upright even with the counter beneath you, legs beginning to shake with the effort it took to stay still.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he murmured, voice rasping just below your ear. “I wanted to be there. More than anything.”

“I know,” you breathed just as he guided your hips, braced his feet, and buried himself inside you in one devastating thrust. The stretch sent you spiralling, tears spilling freely down your cheeks as your forehead found comfort in the marble once more.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled out just enough to make you clench around the absence, and then slammed back in harder.

One hand slipped under your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your nipple while the other found its way back to your slick clit. All that came from your mouth were broken, pathetic sounds. Half-moans, half-sobs, every syllable caught between nonsense and pleading.

“A-Aaron, oh my f—god—oh—” Your voice wavered as he hit that spot again, and again, and again, until you were shaking with every thrust.

Drool slipped past your lips, a thick string trailing down to the countertop, followed by more, clinging to your chin, catching in the strands of your hair as you trembled under the weight of his body.

You felt Aaron release your nipple before his hand moved to your neck, his palm firm against your throat, holding you in place just as another string of spit slipped past your lips, landing on his hand.

“Look at you,” he grunted, tightening his hold as his hips lurched forward again. “Dripping from both ends.”

“Please don’t stop—I’m—I’m—”

“You’re close,” he chuntered, breath hot against your skin. “I can feel it, baby. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight, I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Your whole body locked, spine arching violently off the counter, eyes rolling back as the coil deep in your belly finally snapped. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, nothing coming out but air, tears, and barely intelligible sounds that might’ve been his name.

But Aaron didn’t stop.

Not even when your legs gave out beneath you, not when you slumped forward against the marble, sobbing through the aftershocks that tore right through you. He held you up, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other sliding up your back, fucking you through it, slow and deep now, like he needed to feel every last twitch and tremble your body offered him.

You could feel his rhythm start to falter, each thrust getting sloppier, his hips stuttering against you. Then, with a muffled moan into your shoulder, he pushed into you one final time and stilled, cock pulsing as he came. His grip eased, but his whole body shuddered against yours like he’d been hanging on just long enough to make sure you came first.

He made sure you were completely filled before he pulled out slowly, causing you to whimper at the emptiness. You barely managed to brush the damp hair from your face, to wipe away at the trail of drool on your chin, before his arms were around you again, this time gently guiding you down to the floor of the dressing room.

“Aaron,” you panted, landing on a pile of clothes you’d thrown there earlier. Soft cotton, rumpled cashmere, the ghost of his cologne clinging to it all. “What…what are you doing?”

“Shh, honey.” He knelt between your legs, his knees cracking on the way down.

“Sure this is good for your old man frame?”

He spread your legs open, fingers moving to push his come back inside you. “If I throw my back out eating your pussy, I’ll die a happy man.”

Your breath caught, hips jerking instinctively at the contact. “Jesus—Aaron—”

He lowered his head, mouth hot and wet as it latched onto your cunt, tongue dragging through the mess he’d just pushed back into you like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

Your hands shot to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, undecided if you were pulling him closer or trying to push him away. “I don’t think I can go again, baby,” you gasped, your thighs twitching from the overstimulation.

You heard a sloppy, muffled, “You can,” just as he sucked your clit into his mouth, hard enough to make your vision white out for a second.

“Motherfuc—” Your legs locked around his head with such force that it had to be uncomfortable for him, maybe even a little painful. But when you opened your eyes and looked down, he didn’t look bothered in the slightest.

You caught the way his hips were grinding slowly into the rug beneath him, telling you this might not even be for your pleasure anymore but for his.

“I really, really don’t think I can come again,” you cried out, hips lifting into his mouth. “Please, Aar—”

Your voice broke off as he groaned against your pussy, loud and filthy. The vibration of it paired with the way he lapped at you, coaxed that familiar feeling, winding tight in your abdomen.

You shook your head, back arching, mouth open but no sound escaping as he sucked your clit into his mouth and circled it with his tongue over, and over and over again.

“Aaron, I—fuck—I’m gonna—”

The words dissolved into a sob as the pressure inside you reached its peak, crashing over you with a dizzying force. You came again, harder this time, legs spasming, hands clawing at the rug and his hair, tears slipping down your temples as your body convulsed under him.

You felt his mouth finally ease up, the warmth of him pulling away only for a moment until he was crawling up your body, bracing himself on his elbows as he hovered over you.

He scanned your face, watching the way your chest heaved, the way your eyes were still screwed shut as you tried to come down from the high he’d dragged out of you. He didn’t say anything, just let you come back to him on your own terms because he was generous like that.

Your fingers slowly loosened their grip on the rug, the tension bleeding from your limbs. Finally, you blinked up at him, dazed and thoroughly fucked-out.

“Think I went to heaven.”

He huffed a laugh, forehead dropping to yours. “Yeah?” he murmured. “Were they impressed?”

You let out a weak laugh, your hands dragging up from the rug to rest on his shoulders. “I’m still mad at you. Just… now I can do it with a clear head rather than a—”

“Horny one?” he supplied, earning a nod from you.

“Mhm. Was this your idea of an apology?”

“I mean…” He looked down at you, then at the mess around the closet. “It stopped you from throwing any more of my clothes, didn’t it?”

You snorted. “Temporarily.”

“I’ll take it.” He leaned down to press a lazy, unhurried kiss to your cheek. “Now, come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Then you can go back to yelling at me properly.”

[heaven4lostgirls]

omg helllooo! i am in love with how you write hotch! maybe i request a bearded hotch sees his gf after being sent away for a while and well it gets steamy…

only angel ༝༚༝༚

ᯓ ✈︎ aaron hotchner x reader

ᯓ ✈︎ summary: hotch gets back from pakistan, he's very excited to be home with his girl <3

ᯓ ✈︎ word count: 1.6k

ᯓ ✈︎ content warning’s: where do i even start?? i'm going to hell. not proofread, smut MDNI, p in v, doggy style, sex on a countertop, daddy kink (and i'm not even sorry), breeding kink, cumming inside, slight degradation, dom!hotch x sub!reader, idk anything else lmk

ᯓ ✈︎ author's note: hello angel!! thank you so much for reading my work <33 i love that you love it! i hope you like this<33

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── ·

The sight of Hotch walking towards you on the tarmac is nothing short of a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the last several months clinging to any form of communication from him whilst you wore his t-shirts to bed at night and sprayed his cologne on the pillows.

It was hard, harder than you’d thought it would be. Time spent away from one another wasn’t something uncommon considering Hotch’s line of work but this last stint in Pakistan was the longest the two of you have been apart.

So, there’s a justifiable reason why you immediately launch yourself towards him before he can even drop his bags. Your dress flows in the wind as you quite frankly tackle Aaron, your legs in the air as your arms wrap around his neck.

It’s then that you notice it. He’s grown a beard. Aaron had never held a particular preference for his own facial hair. He chose to keep himself clean shaven because he believed he made him look more professional but there were days where he’d be off work and too lazy to shave and there was nothing that had you drooling faster than Aaron with some stubble over his face.

He’d complained once that he looked like a lumberjack and wasn’t too amused to find you practically salivating over the sentiment. Safe to say, Hotch with facial hair was an uncommon occurrence in your house.

One you’re immensely fond of right now, you’re not sure you’d ever let him leave the house if he kept this beard up every day.

“Why hello there handsome,” you murmur, hand cupping one of his cheeks as you brush softly against his beard.

Hotch rolls his eyes, looking at you in fond amusement with his sunglasses pushed into his hair, “No ‘hello’ kiss for your boyfriend after not seeing him for a couple of months? You just wanna drool over my beard?” he spoke mockingly.

You bite your lip to hide your smile, eyes drifting from his beard to his face where he watches you with an adoring smile. You feel yourself become shy, not uncommon for you but simultaneously a sign that you and Aaron have been apart for a while.

Aaron’s eyes soften and he takes pity on you, slipping forward to meet you with a kiss. “O-oh.” You murmur, slipping into the kiss as a fuzzy feeling starts to creep through your brain, the only thoughts are that of Aaron’s muscular arms around you and the feeling of his beard tickling your face and neck slightly.

You whimper slightly as you draw back, eyes fluttering as you bring yourself out of the haze. Hotch’s expression is dark and predatory. He looks like he wants to devour you.

“W-we should uh—we should go home,” you stutter out, aware that you’re still on a very public tarmac and unwilling to give anyone more of a scene than you already have. Hotch seemingly decides it’s a good idea because without further ado, he places you back onto the floor, grabbing his bag with one hand and your hand with another as you both make your way inside.

˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You’ve barely made it into the house before Aaron corners you. You’re dropping your keys onto the table when he comes up behind you and traps you between the counter and his body.

“Missed you sweet girl,” Aaron purrs softly, his voice tickling your ears as he pushes flush against you. The rough material of his tactical outfit brushes against your thighs and arms yet doesn’t hide the hard outline of his cock.

“A-Aaron” you mewl half-heartedly, pushing back into his erection. Your pussy clenches around nothing, slick starting to dampen your underwear. Your skin feels tight and buzzy, like you just can’t settle.

“That’s not my name baby,” Aaron coos, hand drifting down the front of your dress to cup your pussy over your clothes. A choked gasp escapes your mouth as you grind into his palm.

“What? I don’t—” you gasp, throwing your head back into Aaron’s chest as his fingers trace the covered folds of your pussy. Your legs slip further apart without warning.

“C’mon baby, you’re a smart girl—you know what I wanna hear.” Aaron murmurs, thumb now rubbing circles onto your clit, the fabric of your underwear brushing sweetly against your clit.

Your brain is floaty and quiet as you mewl as Aaron swirls his fingers on your clit. You feel so empty, you just want him to slip a finger inside of you—feel his cock stretching you out and filling you so completely.

“I—please-mm—please please need you—inside please” you beg, legs shaking as Aaron presses one of his fingers against the damp spot on your panty.

“Just gotta say the word sweetheart and I’ll give this tight little pussy what she wants.” Aaron croons mockingly, his tone is amused and slightly mean.

Tears prick your eyes in frustration as you feel your peak start to die down, the stimulation isn’t enough, you need more.

“Daddy” you cry desperately, mind mushy as you claw at Aaron’s biceps.

“Good girl,” Aaron groans and you feel his erection twitch against you. You moan sweetly, head rolling back to bite on Aaron’s bicep—leaving a soft indent in place as you continue to plead with him to stuff you full.

“Shh angel, Daddy’s here—Daddy’s gonna give you what you need.” His voice sounds as wrecked as you feel, eyes unfocused as you hear Aaron’s zipper drop down.

The heat of his erection burns through your skin, and you push back against him, “please-inside I-I need daddy please”

Aaron huffs a laugh behind you, lifting up your dress with one hand and tapping your hip to signal you to pull your underwear off. You do so immediately and the cool air brushing against your wet folds make you shiver.

“Oh honey,” Aaron coos condescendingly, “Your cunt’s practically dripping angel, you need Daddy that badly?”

You’re nodding as the sounds muffle around you, all you can hear is the sound of you repeating “yesyesyesyesyes” over and over.

Aaron uses his hand to drag his cock against your folds, covering it in your slick. The first touch of his cock against your hole has you gasping and whining as you head falls forward, “nng—Daddy please, put it in.” you plead.

Hotch’s arm wraps around your waist, dragging you back towards him as he lines up his cock. His tip barely breaches your hole before you’re gasping for air and squirming in his hold trying to thrust yourself back into him.

“Shh, shh baby-Daddy’s got you, settle down—don’t wanna hurt you.”

You slump in his hold and let him thrust forward achingly slow, you feel every inch drag across your insides as his cock fills you pussy.

“fuck fuck-” you mewl as his tip hits your cervix, your pussy leaks around him like a faucet adding to the slick glide of his cock as he thrusts in small intervals to get you used to his cock after being gone for so long.

“thaaat’s it baby—good girl.” He groans as he bottoms out as he tightens his arm around you, his forehead falls to your nape as he breathes in deeply, It’s been a while since he’s felt the soft, hot and tight fucking clench of your cunt around him and he’s gonna take a few seconds if he doesn’t wanna blow his load like a goddamn teenager.

He starts with slow thrusts into your velvet folds, the slick sounds of your wetness gushes around the both of you as your pussy drools around him. You’re a perfect fucked out mess, eyes half-lidded and mouth open as you make little punched out sounds every time Aaron thrusts forward.

“Fuck-you’re so tight-Daddy forgot how needy this little pussy can be, I’m not gonna last—ha, need you to cum soon” Aaron grunts, placing scattered kisses down your neck before biting softly into your shoulder.

You squeal as the pain mixes with the pleasure, aiding the dizzying headrush you already feel. Your hand sneaks from the table counter to your clit to swirl your fingers around the bundle of nerves.

The feeling is so intense with Aaron’s cock hitting your g-spot that you immediately feel your high approaching, clenching down tightly onto Aaron’s cock—forcing him to stutter in his thrusts as he muffles a pained groan into your shoulder.

“close—m’close, Daddy need-” your thoughts are a jumbled mess but Hotch seems to know exactly what you need, slapping your hand away from your clit as his own rough fingers replace your own.

His pace picks up, he thrusts deeper and harder into you which punches the air out of your lungs. You’re reduced to punching out all ‘uh uh uh’ sounds as Aaron practically rearranges your insides.

“Daddy’s gonna cum baby—gonna fill you up nice and full huh?” Aaron growls, eyes clenched tightly shut as he feels his balls draw up, the telltale sign he’s about to burst.

“Cum in me daddy-fill me—want you to breed me please.” You whine out, squirming at the force of Aaron’s thrusts as you feel his cock twitch inside you which makes you clench again harshly drawing out a punched out sound from Aaron.

“Gonna give you a baby honey-fuck you take me so good—Daddy’s gonna breed you.” He’s as good as gone, lost to his own personal damnation that’s the heaven between your thighs.

You feel your orgasm approaching and you squeal as you squirt wetly around Aaron’s cock, practically blacking out from the pleasure as he continues to jackhammer into you before stilling and groaning loudly as hot pumps of his cum flood your pussy.

[spenceloria]

KINKTOBER 2❤︎25 !

જ⁀➴ introducing… user spencelorias kinktober ‘25 masterlist ❤︎

send reqs for empty prompts + specific details ! see pinned for rules + guidelines !

ask to be tagged in all or a certain fic ! personal faves marked with ★

returned from temporary hiatus… kinkvember here we come!

day 1 ❤︎ first time → spencer reid !

day 2 ❤︎ size difference → aaron hotchner !

day 3 ❤︎ nipple play → emily prentiss !

day 4 ❤︎ spanking/punishment → emily prentiss !

day 5 ❤︎ breeding kink → aaron hotchner ! ★

day 6 ❤︎ breath play → jennifer jareau !

day 7 ❤︎ just the tip → derek morgan !

day 8 ❤︎ mile high club → aaron hotchner !

day 9 ❤︎ office sex → aaron hotchner !

day 10 ❤︎ gun play → emily prentiss !

day 11 ❤︎ cockwarming → spencer reid ! ★

day 12 ❤︎ phone sex → spencer reid ! ★

day 13 ❤︎ dry humping → spencer reid ! ★

day 14 ❤︎ orgasm control → jennifer jareau !

day 15 ❤︎ uniform → aaron hotchner ! ★

day 16 ❤︎ knife play → elle greenaway !

day 17 ❤︎ temperature play → luke alvez !

day 18 ❤︎ thigh fucking → spencer reid ! ★

day 19 ❤︎ thigh riding → emily prentiss ! ★

day 20 ❤︎ bondage → spencer reid !

day 21 ❤︎ free use → emily prentiss !

day 22 ❤︎ anal → aaron hotchner !

day 23 ❤︎ pussy spanking → elle greenaway !

day 24 ❤︎ oral fixation → emily prentiss !

day 25 ❤︎ public sex → aaron hotchner !

day 26 ❤︎ shower sex → spencer reid ! ★

day 27 ❤︎ scissoring → jennifer jareau !

day 28 ❤︎ age gap → aaron hotchner ! ★

day 29 ❤︎ camgirl → spencer reid !

day 30 ❤︎ sex pollen/aphrodisiac → aaron hotchner !

day 31 ❤︎ s&m → emily prentiss !

[maiamore]

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: clark kent jogs every morning to keep up his physique — except that itself is a lie he can't unrun. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘: Explicit/F!Reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: pwp, roommate!reader, reader is jimmy olsen's cousin, yearning, hyperspermia, p-in-v, confessions, creampies, softdom!clark, aftercare, 'superman' reveal, drama, sexual tension 𝐖/𝐂: 2k+

clark kent hasn't had sex in a really long time.

a package deal with his kryptonian physiology, he supposes. enhanced tolerance, an insanely levelled libido — it's the same way he didn't have to lift a finger to maintain the hulking muscle mass of his body.

but really, it was a simple concept. he hasn't had sex because he hasn't wanted anyone in that nature.

until…he met you.

you, who had him sputtering a ridiculous lie about running every morning when your perceptive eye pointed out the dust patterns on the untouched weights next to the sofa.

you, who'd come knocking on his door at eight-thirty in the morning for the apparent running route he now takes.

you, who despite all his warnings to leave well enough alone, broke down the door to his bedroom to now finding him slumped at the foot of his bed — coughing, with his shirt covered in soot and grime, minutes after news broke out of an explosion midtown metropolis.

the acrid scent of residual smoke. his breathing was far too torn and ragged for a man who'd claimed to be okay. when he moves, his legs buckle, slumping into the side of his dresser with a pained inhale in a jerky motion. your worry tears from you at the soft clatter of his glasses hitting the floor. without them, his eyes were clear. undeniably blue.

it doesn't take long for the pieces to click into place — the secrecy, the unusual occurrences. bested by a thick, rectangular frame that exposed him to reveal the face of a man you'd seen on television screens, newsstands, billboards —

"you have to believe me, i wanted to tell you. i was going to tell you," he tries, voice hoarse and pleading.

"you're injured." clark winces at the sudden tug you give at the hem of his shirt. gaze searching for wherever he pressed his palms into like a wounded animal minutes ago. "you're injured," you repeat, "take this off."

clark doesn't hesitate, pulling his dirtied shirt over his head in a fluid movement. the fabric flutters aside, leaving you with sight of his bare body, lighted by the soft mood lighting from his lamp. his physique was a testament to the revelation. sculpted and sturdy, but so impossibly soft. an angry bruise blooms on his right abdomen, stark against his pale skin. you watch it in real time, in the manner the yellow-purple softens to a pale yellow, and eventually, to the usual flush of his skin.

"it's…a lot to take in. i know."

he waits for your judgment, or your anger, self-conscious of the alien-like abilities that would frighten most.

"are you kidding me?" you rasp in a half-laugh. your palms come up to rest over the warm spot on his abdomen, brazenly dragging your fingers over the healed-bruise.

"jesus…clark." the disbelief is palpable, but amusement and awe creeps past it, "'i run everyday'," you mock in his drawl, "you're so full of shit."

he welcomes your curious exploration, offering you a rueful smile, "started running after you moved in. just…not at a 'human'…pace."

you snort with an annoyed shake of your head, "human pace. of course," your nails rake over his ribs thoughtfully. as though you're deciding which sensation in your belly should take precedence. anger, confusion, want. "you watched me struggle! running up the hill. all while you didn't even break a sweat."

his body visibly ripples at your touch. clark feels it too — the accusatory tone of yours, mixed in with hints of desire.

"i…was watching you, yes," he admits, lowering his voice in reverence, "but not to see you struggle. i was watching because i couldn't bring myself to look away."

when you shoot him a confused look, he continues, "every time you pushed yourself further. it was the most beautiful thing i'd ever seen. the determination that makes you so human —"

you let out a derisive sigh, wanting to write off his too poetic take on your unglamorous out-of-breath struggle in your runs with him. "that's —"

"i was jealous," he presses, voice pitching louder for you to really hear him, "how your body pushed you, the burn, exhaustion…satisfaction of getting up there." clark's palm cases yours where it remained idle over his abdomen. guiding you higher up his chest so you could feel the pathetically quickening thrum of his heartbeat.

"it made me feel things." he says, quieter.

you ponder over his confession for a beat, your free hand connecting with his waist. "there's other ways you know."

clark lowers head, tilting in question.

"to feel the burn…" you hum, sliding it to his front, lowering to brush past the waistband of his sweats, "or satisfaction."

if there was ever a time you'd seen clark look absolutely wrecked, it was now, "yes, god yes. show me."

his warm palm slide down your lower back, pulling you as close as humanly possible. you melt into him, head tilted to the side as his lips trail down your pulse.

surprises crosses your features as the pads of his fingers graze your lower lips. demanding entry. clark watches you mesmerised when you take him in, the pink of your tongue tracing a path down his fingers.

"good gosh…" clark's barely able to contain his rasp, watching you intently. At the manner your lips wrapped around the girth of his digits. a groan rumbles deeply in his throat, forehead slumping to your shoulder. "gonna be the death of me."

his breathing remains bated, guiding his damp fingers downward, past your waistband.

"need you to tell me what you want," he mutters, warm into your skin, "please. need to know i'm doin' this right."

the reverence in its delivery sent chills down your spine, gentle touches trailing past your belly in a gentle exploration. a test of the waters. but really, it was the need in his eyes that gave you the courage.

"…stretch me open. on your fingers," you whisper, squeezing around his clothed erection, "and then give me this."

your words forced a pained groan from him. elicited, raw and desperate. curious grazes turn decisive, digits sliding past the warmth of your puffy cunt. already slick and hot to touch, clark whimpers. "feels…incredible. soft."

you twitch around his fingers, jerking into him.

"sh, shh," he urges, curling his fingers past your folds, into the right and warm entrance that pulsed for him, "i've got you."

your head tilts at the dizzying pleasure the insistent probe elicits, "ah —…shit. clar—hhrk..fuck. it's t-thick!"

clark nods to your raw praise, sending a rush of blood down south. he doesn't think he can get any harder than he was now. the pace of his ministrations intensifies.

"takin' it so well. so perfect."

his mindless rambles echoed in your mind. and you couldn't help the strained rebuttal from your throat.

"i-i am?"

"y'are. more than perfect," he chokes, panting harder into your mouth. unrestrained sounds of your whimpers, mixing with the squelches sourced from your growing arousal.

a soft and content hum leaves you, but you opt to bite down on your lips to stop the airy, relieved laughter from his praise. clark frowns at the reddened tension pulled taut on your features. he lowers his head to replace your bitten lip with the his own. tenderly parting them with his tongue to deepen it. it's only a bare moment later he pulls away, breathing carefully.

he doesn't stop the deep, stuttered flick of his wrists, stretching his fingers deep in your cunt.

"can i? he tries.

"yes, yeah. o-okay." you nod, frantically, wetting your reddened lips after he pulls away from you.

in a rather ungraceful, clumsy manner, his hand works to shove the sweats and boxers down his hips to reveal his fully erect cock. thick and daunting, soaked with his pre-cum. clark doesn't wait for another confirmation as he presses the blunt tip of his length against your entrance, guiding himself into you slowly. clark's gaze remains fixed on yours, on every flicker of your features through the intense initial stretch.

"oh gosh — oh, good…gosh," he manages, steadying your hip as you steady yourself on the edge of his dresser. as expected, a sharp, breathy whine spills from your lips loudly.

"m-my fucking god," your head tilts back, hold tightening around his forearms, "you're big. so — ugh."

"too much? i can stop —"

"don't you dare." your plea shatters his hesitation, nodding in slight relief.

he starts with slow and deep thrusts, just to get you used to his size. though his grip around the splintering dresser says otherwise, to the sheer willpower he's exerting.

"i won't. ah — …you're…feels, amazing…" clark's breath hitches, taking in the flutter of your eyelids when he grinds into a particularly pleasurable spot.

"c-can't help it. haven't been fucked in…so…so long." your confessions spills from you, fingers flexing around the sturdiness of his forearms as he steadily fucks his cock into you. the fullness of his length coats your belly all around.

"it's been a while for me too," he admits, slumping his face into your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your skin deeply.

"r…really?"

"mhm…" clark lifts his head, mouthing up the column of your throat, "few years…since…before metropolis."

"nnh! hard to believe — ah, you're lasting…long."

clark's jaw twitches at your backhanded compliment; it only ignites something much more petty in him. he abandons the careful pace he's kept up, thrusts turning meaner, frenzied. your body arches into him, with broken moans unsuppressed from the weight of his hips snapping into you. each press of his thick cock rubbing right against the spot that made you see stars.

"believe me. i could do this…all…night…"

his promise rings true, in the manner he squeezes around the fat of your thighs, tugging it higher around his strong calves, fucking you in an angle that much the burning want in your belly much more potent.

"of course," you groan, tired, at the reminder of his superhuman strength, "fuck. i can't."

a triumphant grin curls at the corner of his lips, this time, his dimples feel mocking. "already?" he breathes, mouthing down your jaw, "thought you'd last long."

his tease to your confident words earlier shatters you.

"e-enough, clark — nn…gonna get me…hooked on this." you emphasize it with a lazy, intentional pulse. the flutter of your cunt around his length catches clark entirely off guard. just as he thinks it stopped, the feeling massages every cranny of him, coating him in a wave of pleasure.

he doesn't realise how quickly it catches up to him either, back turning taut, shuddering at the weight of his own orgasm. clark's full weight rests on you only for mere seconds before he catches himself, bracing his palms around the dresser to keep from crushing you.

his pupils, now dilated, meets your fucked out gaze as he cums deep in you. the thick and warm release that seemed to go on and on, clark remained in you. breathing harsh, holding himself still.

"y-you're still…cumming," you rasp, thighs quivering in the wake of your own release, and the dull, sticky coating of his release still spurting deep.

clark lets out a shaky breath, eyes shut tightly at the embarrassment actively reddening the tip of his ears. he couldn't bring himself to point out how you'd been subconsciously pulsing around his softening length, willing him to empty every last drop into you. a shaky breath rumbles his throat, body finally stilling.

he carefully pulls out of you, "i…i'm sorry. didn't mean to. was that…okay?"

you swallow thickly, a palm coming to case your belly, the warmth swirling and leaking out of your cunt. "…wow."

clark can only cringe at himself, abashed at your whispered awe. but before you get to probe further at the apparent physiological hazard of his, the efficient speed that lifts you off your feet. he plops you into the bed in a whisk. your legs are gently lifted, and you register the change of scenery at the touch of a cold towel to your thighs. he's on his knees before you, wringing the towel in a small washtub you hadn't noticed was there.

you suppose you could settle for superhuman aftercare.

[laceyluvver]

we really shouldn’t

summary: you were having such a great night, your fake id worked, and you had a man lined up for the night. but then, your dads friend who is a fed, and definitely knows you’re not 21 turns up.

warnings: mdni, 18+!!!, AGE GAP! (READER IS OVER 20 and hotch is like 35!!), PIV, oral (f rec), reader has a smart mouth, aarons buttons are pushed, dad’s best friend! 

an: sorry i disappeared, i’ve been really ill with covid ! this is really self indulgent #needmeamunch. PLEASE REBLOG!!! likes don’t help the algorithm:( (but also like pls) 

wc: 3.8k

Friday night was the best night of the whole week. Friday night meant that class was over, no more nine am classes with drowsy old professors. But most of all, Friday night meant the DC streets were filled to the brim, not just students like on the Wednesday nights, Friday night meant busy. And busy meant getting into anywhere with a dodgy ID.

“Why are we going to this bar?” Your friend whines, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing up and down her triceps.

“Because, I know a bartender who will let Sarah Shipman into the bar.” You roll your eyes and flick your ID back and forth.

The line shuffled forward slowly, your boots scraping against the gravel pavement. It was colder than you’d anticipated, goosebumps pulling up on your thighs under your dress.

“ID’s please ladies.” The bouncer holds his hand out expectantly. Your friend hands hers over and he nods. You do the same with yours, shining his torch on it. His eyes flick from the picture to you, he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“Is James working tonight, James Green?” You sputter out, biting your lip and rocking back on your heels and batting your eyelashes at the bouncer.

“Yeah, you know him?” The bouncer scrunches his brow.

“Mhm.” You hum. “He told us to come along tonight, could you grab him?” You bite your lip, and he nods, spinning on his foot and disappearing into the bar.

The bouncer yanks the door back open, James lingering behind him. “Hi.” Lifting your hand to waist height you give him a small wave.

“They’re all good, I know her.” He nods, and opens the door wider, letting you in under his arm. Coming up behind you he wraps an arm around your shoulder, leaning into your ear. “You’re going to get me in trouble.” He whispers and you can’t help the light giggle that escapes your lips.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” You bite your lip and hop up into the bar stool. “First round on you?”

He closes the hatch on the other side of the bar, and sighs. “First round on me. What can I get you?” He grabs two glasses and places them down.

“Double vodka coke.” Your friend chimes in, flashing him a smile.

“Double vodka orange, please.” Pouring the shots and the mixers into the glasses, he slides them over the bar and you pull the straw into your mouth.

“I’ll find you on my break.” He winks, stepping away to go and serve another customer on the other side of the bar.

Pulling your friend away from the bar and over to the booths, each of you slide into opposite sides and you see her shake her head at you.

“What?” You question, sipping on your drink.

“He’s like… thirty.” She raised her eyebrows at you expectantly.

“Thirty five.” You mutter into your straw, glancing over to the bar where James is there shaking a cocktail.

“Thirty five!” She exclaims, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Girl, you have a problem.” She laughs and slaps your arm across the table.

“A problem that got us free drinks.” You smile widely, leaning back into the booth. “It’s started to get busy now.”

The dance floor had started to fill up, the music thumping and vibrating in your ears and chest. A couple more doubles later, you were feeling the buzz in the tips of your fingers and toes.

“Do you want to go dance!” She shouts from across the table, shuffling out of the booth and holding out of her hand.

“Yeah, let me chug my drink.” You shout back, gulping down the rest of your drink and placing your hand in hers.

Dancing in the bar was one of your favourite pastimes, coupled with the buzz of a hefty amount of alcohol, a great song and good company, it was unbeatable.

The unmissable thump of the beat, the press of strangers all around you as you raise your hands above your head and your friend wraps hers around your neck.

“Can you get us another drink?” She shouts closer into your ear, nodding you snake your way out of the crowd of tightly packed bodies.

Waiting in the line for the bar you tap your foot on the wooden floor impatiently. You scan the rest of the people cramming the bar. The back of a sleek, black suit catches your eye and the broad shoulders that stretches the material. Long legs, expensive shoes, cropped dark hair. Exactly what you liked.

Ordering your drinks, you keep glancing over, his back still turned. “Thank you!” You mouth to the bartender and glance over your shoulder one more time, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face, and extra hoping it lived up to his ass.

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach. Fortunately, the face very much did live up to the ass. Unfortunately, it just happened to be your dad’s newest golf buddy, one you were told to not mess around with and, one that was a fed who happened to definitely know you weren’t twenty one.

His eyebrows furrow as the two of you make eye contact, you can almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes. Giving him a tight lipped smile and a nod, you duck away into the crowd, disappearing from his eyeline.

“We’re fucked.” You shout into your friends ear, her having found a guy from your criminology class.

“What? Why?” She shouts back, her hand gripping onto his bicep.

“My dad’s friend is here, he’s a fed.” You wrap your lips around your straw and chug half of your drink.

“Ok correction. You’re fucked, i’m of age.” She smiles at you and you roll your eyes.

Then, your phone buzzes in your small bag, pulling it out you see a message from James lighting up the screen.

‘I’m in the smoking area.’

“Are you going to go?” She asks, widening her eyes at you and flicking them down to the phone screen.

“Do you want me to go?” You smirk at her and look at the guy from your criminology class, now moving to put an arm around her.

She nods, and you step away. Before your back even turned the pair started to make out, pushing through the packed crowd.

You’re not as cold outside this time, the vodka you had warming you from inside. It was much quieter out there, however you could still hear the music clearly, fading in and out when the doors opened and closed.

“Hey!” James calls from a bench, cigarette in his hands, he waves you over and pats the seat next to him.

Sitting on the top of the table, feet on the seat you smile down at him. “Hey.” You hold out a hand for the cigarette.

“No.” He laughs, shaking his head back and forth, taking a drag for himself and a swig out of a beer bottle. “I’m not giving you another bad habit.”

“Aww, that’s cute.” You patronise, bending down to his eye level, “So you’ll let me into a bar, serve me drinks underage, and fuck me. But you won’t give me a puff of a cig?” You whisper in his ear, and you’re sure you’ve shocked him into silence. Taking it from his fingers, you bring it to your lips and take a drag.

“That’s what I thought.” You flash your teeth at him, leaning back and you feel his hand snake around your ankle.

“You’re going to get me into trouble.” He says with a snort.

“Yes, she is.” You didn’t know where he had come from, but now he was stood over the two of you at the bench. “Especially because she’s underage.”

“Hello Aaron.” You roll your eyes at him, and you feel James’ hand slip off of your ankle and back to his side.

“What are you doing at a bar.” He states, face stone cold, keeping a close eye on the man next to you.

“I’m not in a bar, I’m sat outside of one. That’s not illegal.” You smirk at him and blow some cigarette smoke in his general direction.

“I saw you inside.” He glares at you. Your eyes scan his body, his suit is expertly pressed, you wonder if he put it on especially for the bar. His black shoes have no scuffs, tie in a tight and precise windsor knot.

“I was never inside of the bar, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shrug, leaving an elbow on your knees and then your face in the same hand.

His questioning turns to James, pulling out his badge and flashing it. You groan at his dramatics. “How do you know her?”

“We’re friends.”

“Didn’t look very friendly from where I was standing.” His eyes narrow and you glare with the same intensity back.

“So when a man and a woman love each other very much.” You send a fake pout his way and you can tell you’re starting to push his buttons.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” He asks you, his jaw clenched tight, a hand now coming to rest on his hip.

“What do you think?” The sarcasm drips from your lips and you blow more smoke in his direction, hoping he would clear off.

“Don’t.” His tone is a warning, a warning you were going to ignore.

“My breaks over.” James mutters, clambering out from the bench and giving a nod in your direction before he disappears through the bar door.

“You’re a prick.” You’re sure you growl at him, and blow more smoke in his face, he brings a hand up to waft it away. The grey smoke twists and turns in the air and disperses as his hand cuts through it.

“I said, don’t.” He repeats, his frustration growing, eyebrows pulling together even more.

“Or what?” You do it again. He moves quickly. His hand comes up to your lips and snatches it from your mouth, putting it out under his perfectly shiny shoes. “Hey!”

He takes a swig from the beer bottle in his hand and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s illegal.”

“What are you going to do Agent? Arrest me?” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, he rolls his eyes.

You lean back on your hands, giving you a great angle to look up to him. You feel the bottom of your dress climb up your bare thighs with you leaning back. You make no effort to pull it down.

“He’s too old for you, he’s what 35?” He scoffs, shaking his head, “Go out with a nice boy your own age.”

“What if I don’t want a nice boy my age? What if I want a man?” You were shamelessly flirting now, your father’s words damned. Aaron Hotchner was a tall glass of cool water that you desperately wanted a sip of.

“That’s enough i’m taking you home.” He grabs the top of your forearm, yanking you upwards. “And before you say anything, i’ve had half a beer.”

His hand grips tightly onto your wrist, pulling you away from the bar and down the street to where his very sleek sports car was parked. “Get in.”

His thick arm holds open the door and you climb into the seat and buckle your seatbelt. You cross your arms across your chest with a huff.

“Take me to my apartment, not my dad’s house.” You instruct him.

“I have every right to take you to your dad and tell you you’re underage drinking and sleeping with men almost twice your age.” He glances over at you and you scoff.

“So what do you think he will think when I turn up to the house with another man double my age?” You smirk, and lean back in the seats, the expensive leather touching your skin.

“I’m his friend, he knows I wouldn’t.” He clenches his jaw so hard you think his teeth might crack.

“So why did he tell me to stay away from you?”

This takes him off guard and he looks at you in light shock, spit catching in the back of his mouth, causing him to clear his throat.

“My apartment it is then.” You smile, happy to have got your way. Crossing one leg over the other, your dress rides up again, exposing the soft skin on the tops of your thighs.

He sits in a glowering silence, glaring at the slate grey road in front of him. Knuckles turning white from his hard grip on the steering wheel. His foot pressing down on the pedal hard, halting the car to a full stop.

“Get out.” He orders, tone rough.

You comply, walking around the front of the car, giving him a full view of you, adjusting the deep v neck of your dress. Waggling your fingers at him, an attempt at a wave, you make your way to the front door to the foyer of your apartment.

A hand pushes the door open from above your head and he lets you walk in before him.

“What are you doing?” You ask, flicking your hair over your shoulder.

“Making sure you get to your apartment ok.” He stands next to you as the elevator doors drag open, the silver box is empty.

“I’m not even drunk anymore, you’re so overprotective.” You scoff, striding into the elevator and pressing the button for floor 5.

Leaning against the wall of the elevator, you absentmindedly look at your nails, scraping at the cuticle and pretending to not feel the firey hot glare that was burning a hole through your head. You swore that the elevator was purposely going at the slowest it could, making the ride as gruelling as possible. There was only so long you could stare at your nails.

Finally, the doors separated and you strode to your apartment door, hearing the shoes thumping along behind you. His silence was deafening. Your keys jangle and it slides into the lock. You could feel the breath on the back of your neck.

Stepping in through your apartment door, you spin on your foot and lean the door against your hip, leaving him with not even a glance into your apartment.

“Thanks for the ride.” Smiling at him, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth, yanking at it with your teeth.

“Go to bed.” He grunts, walking away down the corridor and back to the elevator.

“You know it’s a shame.” You start and you watch his step falter but he keeps walking away. “I was looking forward to being fucked by you.”

Not looking for his reaction you close the front door, and pull your dress over your head. You hoped he liked black lace. Glancing down at your watch, the seconds tick by.

A loud knock echoes through your apartment, you decide to make him wait. Sitting on the arm of your couch, still observing your watch face. Another knock comes, this one faster. Deciding to stop the torture, you pull the door open.

Before you can get another snarky comment from between your lips, large hands wrap around your waist and pull you up around his body. Pushing you against the door, his lips meet yours.

You grasp onto his shoulders and kiss him back with a hot intensity that makes him groan into your mouth, and his teeth to pull on your bottom lip. This pulls a moan from your throat and your head to thump back against the door. This leaves the column of your neck exposed, and his lips attach to them, kissing at the base of your jaw. Then to the middle of your throat, sucking shallowly and nipping at the skin leaving a trail of red marks.

“You’re-Lucky-Your-Dad-Is-A-Dick.” He says in between kisses, making his way back up to your lips and planting a rough kiss to punctuate his last word. “Bedroom?” He asks and you point to the door just past the kitchen.

He doesn’t put you down, and carries you across the apartment and opening your bedroom door and laying you gently on your bed.

“You usually wear things like that underneath your dresses?” He asks, eyes dragging down your body, and shrugging off his blazer and laying it in the chair in your room. A hand pulls up and undoes the knot and throws it with his blazer.

“Yeah, jealous?” You smirk, leaning back on your elbows just as you did at the bench earlier, parting your legs slightly.

The first couple buttons on his shirt are pulled open now, and he crawls up the length of your bed. You can see his chest hair, his fingers drag up the length of your leg, hand coming to rest on your hip. “I could still arrest you for underage drinking you know, don’t get snarky.” His deep voice reverberates in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a whine crawl from your chest when he bit down on your earlobe.

“Going to handcuff me, Agent.” You bite your lip and pull the insides of your eyebrows together.

He groans and slides his hands up to your lace bra, the texture soft as anything under his fingers. “Another time.” He mumbles, and kisses down your stomach. Coming to a stop at your hips, he bites into your flesh and slides the matching panties down your legs and throws them with his blazer and tie.

He presses kisses to the inside of your thighs, hands snaking under them and gripping them apart. Again, he bites into your skin, leaving a row of pink teeth marks. “Can I?”

“God, yes.” You nod feverishly, looking down at his floppy deep black hair falling over his forehead as his lips attach to your clit and pulling it into his mouth. “Oh fuck!” You cry out and your back arches off the mattress and your hands dart down to the said floppy hair and gripping on to it to ground yourself.

He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, flicking his tongue lightly making your toes to curl downwards and the octave of your voice to peak upwards.

“Aaron!” He’s gripping you to his face as he devours you like he might die if he doesn’t get a taste.

Your hands come to grip your floral sheets between your fingers, pulling it up and your thighs clenching around his head. A finger slides up and in between your folds and nudges into your entrance as his mouth still works furiously on your clit and pumps his finger in and out.

“Ah!” A string of moans fly from you, and you’re sure you’re suffocating him in between your legs. You glance down and you see his deep brown eyes looking up at your undoing. And that is enough to push you over the edge and your thighs tremble and you call out his name and your eyes roll back into your head and your head falls back into the pillow.

Opening your eyes, he’s hovering above your head and pops his finger into his mouth, sucking off your juices.

“Take your pants off.” You pant, reaching down and try to fumble with the button, but your arms are still weak from the orgasm that was still clouding your vision.

He pulls them off himself, then his shirt and they join the ever growing pile of clothes on your chair. As he does that, you reach into your bedside table and pull out a condom and pass it over to him.

You almost drool as you see him pull it over his cock, it was big. It looked heavy and like a great time.

“Hurry up and fuck me.” You say in a desperate whisper, pulling him on top of you, tilting your hips upwards.

“Why should I? All you’ve done is be a brat.” He slides the head of his cock along you, resting it at your entrance and leaving it there.

“Please,” You whine, your hands snaking up to his shoulders and digging your nails in gently, “I need it.”

After what feels like an eternity of teasing, the head brushing against your clit making you jolt, his cock slides in and fills you to the brim. “Mmm” You hum as he starts to thrust in and out of you.

“God, you’re tight.” He groans, and you roll him onto his back, attaching your lips to his as you bounce up and down on his length and groaning onto each other’s mouths.

The tip of his cock bucks the spongy part inside of you that makes you cry out so loud you knew your neighbour’s would leave a note on the door in the morning. “Oh, Aaron!”

His hands wrap around your ass for leverage as he plants his feet flat onto the mattress and starts to pound up into you. You swear you can feel your brain melt out of your skull.

You could feel every inch of him as he pumps in and out, driving you crazy and your nails drag down his chest and stroking the soft hair on his chest.

He was letting out moans himself, whispering your name into your ear and groaning deeply into the back of his throat. His thrusts get more frantic as you get closer to the edge again, clamping around him like a vice and kissing him again, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

Your thighs start to shake again, and the short punctual thrusts brush your g-spot just enough to shove you over that delicious edge. Tightening around him you rest your forehead against his as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm small whines pushed out at every thrust, as he releases into the condom himself.

You flop down next to him on the opposite side of your bed. “Jesus.” You sigh, stretching your legs out and arms above your head.

He pulls the condom off, tying it off at the top and placing it in the bin in the corner of the room and he joins you under the sheets, still bare.

“We’re so dead.” You giggle and your head rests on his shoulder, fiddling with his chest hair.

“Worth it.” He smiles at you for the first time, it’s a rare sight that you know you’ll cherish. “Good thing I don’t like your Dad that much.” Now his smile is cheeky and you laugh again.

“Me neither.” You sigh. “So can I say we will be doing this again?” Looking up at him expectantly, you can’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach.

“Oh, I don’t think I can live without this now.”

-

part two is here!!

an/ hello!! am back! sorry i went missing, but i will be writing a lot more now! please reblog! <3 love ya.

[nanidotorg]

Using You | A.H. x Reader

Tags/Warnings: angst, Divorced!Hotch, BAU!Reader, SITUATIONSHIP TRIGGER WARNING BRO, mentions of depression/mental health, mentions of cheating, Hotch and reader are in a pre-established “relationship”, so, so much smut: PinV, unprotected sex, quickie, oral sex (M receiving), rough sex, hate sex, secret sex, fingering, hair-pulling, biting. I wrote this with my pussy I’m sorry, second person narrative, no use of Y/N

Summary: Whilst Haley and Aaron have been separated, your relationship with Aaron has become complicated, sitting somewhere between friends with benefits and two people who need one another. When the divorce is finalised, the tension comes to a head, and your relationship with your closest friend- and the man you’ve fallen in love with- is threatened. 

W.C: 8.3k

Author’s Note: Situationship Aaron Hotchner I love you so much. I think about Aaron’s vulnerability a lot when rewatching the season where he and Haley split, and having my own vulnerabilities surrounding relationships created… this. I am very sorry in advance. There are some points where the reader is quite a bit unlikeable, but I think those parts are my favourite and were the most fun to write. 

Beta-read by my beloved @blit2tdw <3

Heavily inspired by Using You by Mars Argo.

Happy reading! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

What were you expecting?

Haley was his high school sweetheart. The mother of his child. His wife. Ex-wife. You held no animosity towards her: she’d welcomed you into her home many times for drinks and games, always made a point of saying hello to you when she popped into the office to see Aaron. How did you repay her? Falling in love with her husband. Ex-husband.

Playing with your nails, slowly chipping the red nail polish from them, you sat on the sofa in Aaron’s office. He was in his chair, head in his hands. You’d been silent for a long time. A conversation you needed to have was hanging in the air like a bad smell, the pair of you too scared to begin it. Was scared the right word? Apprehensive. You knew that even being here with him was adding to the already incomprehensible amount of stress he was carrying on those broad shoulders of his. Aaron shifted slightly in his chair and your head snapped up to look at him. He was already looking at you, shoulders slumped, his hair ruffled from where he’d been resting against his hands. 

“Aaron…” you began, but he shook his head and you immediately shut up. This was not a conversation you had the right to begin. 

Did it make you a bad person? Aaron had confided in you one late night in the office how rocky his relationship with Haley was becoming. He knew that you’d just come out of another relationship, so you would be the one person who understood. You’d been friends since you first started the BAU, and you also understood more than most people how gruelling the hours were. So many failed relationships on your behalf because of the stupid hours and emergency jet rides across the country. He’d confided in you because you’d also become a family friend. He’d confided in you, and a few weeks later you were in his car with his hands gripping your waist as you rode him. 

Aaron sighed. “Whatever we’ve been doing needs to stop for a while.” 

They weren’t words you wanted to hear, even if you did expect them coming. You felt slightly sick at the way your stomach flipped in hope: “for a while” doesn’t mean forever, right? It gave you at least some shred of hope that you could cling to until he was ready for you again. That was a stupid, childish feeling. 

We’re such a mess together;

you make me lose my temper.

The first time you slept with Aaron Hotchner, the pair of you knew it had been a mistake. A drunken one at that. You’d both fallen on hard times: your partner had cheated on you, and Haley had moved in to her sister’s with Jack. In your heartbroken states, you’d both wandered into one of the city’s smoky bars, drank one too many glasses of whisky, and ended the night with Aaron’s hands in your hair and your lips wrapped around his throbbing cock. 

Then it happened again. And again. Until it became a ritual for you to be bent over the desk of his office, stars exploding behind your eyes as you tried to remain on this plane of existence by gripping onto the sides of the desk. Aaron was ruthless during sex. Not that you were complaining- you’d never been fucked like that in your life- but the one time you’d tried to reach up and hold the side of his face he’d swatted your hand away and turned you over onto your stomach. Pulling at you like a ragdoll, he got you up on your knees and pushed your face into your bed.

“Aaron-” you began, but he shushed you as he jerked himself a few times, putting a large hand on the small of your back and re-entering you. A muffled moan ripped from your mouth, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of the sting. It was almost too much; you’d considered asking him to stop. You knew, with full confidence, he would stop the second you said the word, but fucking Aaron Hotchner was addicting.

You’re the only one, who’s making me come-

Holding you down by your spine, he slammed into you, trembling whimpers falling from his mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut and you imagined his face of pleasure, lids heavy, mouth agape. His usually carefully-styled hair falling over his eyes, sweat beads pooling on his upper lip. More than anything you wished you could touch it. Smooth your thumb over the sweat and collect the taste on your tongue. Be completely and utterly overwhelmed with him. Everything about him. 

To my simple senses,

I’ll never love,

anyone the same.

“Ah, fuck- I’m gonna cum,” he stuttered, his hips jutting forward in sloppy, desperate movements. Grabbing you by a shoulder, he yanked you towards him. You’d had sex enough with him by that point to know what he wanted. You scrambled to your knees as he jerked himself, his arm over the soft skin of his stomach, hips jerking, eyes closed, head tipped back. A broken groan of your name fell from his mouth as the first spurt of cum landed on your face, making you flinch slightly. This is exactly what you wanted. This is exactly what he wanted. When he opened his eyes, he groaned quietly at the sight of your face painted by his orgasm. Your heart swelled past your shivering lungs when he gripped you by the chin, collecting his cum with a swipe of his thumb. The tip of his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, urging it to open. Of course, you obliged. Aaron’s eyes locked on yours as you sucked his thumb clean, both of your breathing ragged. A soft blush had settled across his face, and even in your darkened bedroom, you could see the fondness glinting tiredly in his eyes. He’d never looked at you like that before. So why had he been so against you holding his face? 

This pattern continued. He allowed you in then cast you out. Aaron had always been cagey and deeply private, but you’d rather he gave you absolutely nothing than allow you the smallest of glimpses into himself then close you off again. Upon reflection, you assumed that he just had no idea what he wanted from you. You were a way to blow off steam, to not think about how his marriage was falling apart. You were a step up from his right hand. Don’t get it twisted. You were using him just as much as he was using you. Case gone bad? You could knock on his hotel room door knowing he’d let you in and ruin you. Another failed date? Aaron Hotchner’s flat was nearby the restaurant you were at, and Jack was staying with Haley. 

It had quickly become more than that. At first you thought it was just you, that you’d deeped the sex a little too much, but then Hotch began pairing himself with you on cases. He’d seek you out first before anybody else. Sometimes he’d call you to his apartment and you’d just sit and talk. About anything. The sex would dwindle, then he’d argue with Haley or a case would be particularly nasty and it would pick up again. Hot, cold, hot, cold. Constantly. It felt like it would never end. Until now, apparently. 

I’ll never feel ashamed for using you for pleasure.

Aaron clapped his knees and stood. There was a darkened look on his face, mostly unreadable, but he looked defeated. You knew him well enough to read the smallest of hints on his face that let you into what he was thinking. He wouldn’t even look at you as you mirrored him, standing from the sofa shakily. His hands were balled into fists as he turned his shoulders towards the door of his office, silently signalling you out. Was that… it? That is how he was going to terminate this… thing you had going on? You whispered his name, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“Don’t. Please, don’t,” he said quietly, his voice even. “It’s not appropriate. This was a mistake.” 

He wasn’t wrong. You knew that, of course you knew that. The moment he entered you for the first time you knew it was a mistake, that it would go too far. But it still hurt to hear it, especially after you’d stupidly gotten your hopes up. Swallowing, all you could do was nod. It was no use arguing with him, especially about this. Some space and time is all he needed, then you could talk to him properly. What you needed was some wine and Penelope Garcia. Aaron opened the door for you and stood at the doorway like a guard, his head bowed. Wordlessly, wanting nothing more for him to call after you, you flounced past him, through the bullpen and into the corridors towards Penelope’s office.

“You did what?”

You were sitting inside Penelope’s apartment, your face buried in your hands. Two glasses of red sat half-drank on the coffee table, one of them stained with Penelope’s lipstick. It’s not that you were ashamed of your actions, it was more… Okay, you were pretty ashamed. It wasn’t a great look, pouncing on a married man the minute he’d split with his wife. They weren’t even officially divorced… until now. 

You brought your knees up to your chest and peeked at Penelope through your fingers. She was gawking at you, jaw practically touching the floor. One of her hands grasped her necklace, fiddling with the pendant anxiously. You felt awful burdening her with the mess of your life.

“Pen, neither of us meant for it to happen,” you tried to explain, and Penelope snorted.

“You don’t say?” Your friend adjusted herself on the sofa and brought your hands down gently, taking them into her lap. You eyed her warily. “Sugar muffin, you’re smarter than this. Why are you letting him use you like that? You know yourself there’s a massive power imbalance there. Big bad SSA Aaron Hotchner, your boss, and then little old you.”

Shifting uncomfortably, not knowing which side you wanted your weight to rest on, you gazed at the floor in thought. 

“I was using him back. When I found out Warren was cheating on me, I just… Needed something. Someone. He’s like the ultimate rebound.” 

Taking one of your hands from Penelope’s grasp, you leant over and grabbed your glass of wine. You took a deep swig, letting your eyes flutter shut. It was warm and comforting on the way down, numbing down your feelings of guilt just a little more. Sighing, Penelope copied your actions. The two of you sat sipping in a comfortable silence, mulling over the brevity of what you’d just revealed. Because it changed a lot of things. It changed dynamics, shifted trust. Both of you could be in serious trouble for inter-Bureau fraternisation. You’d misused his office many, many times. There were probably little splatters of you all across that poor room. It was Penelope that broke your silence.

“Find another rebound.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Find another rebound. Someone a bit less risky than Hotch. Bleugh. He’s like my Dad- I can’t imagine ever having sex with him.” She shivered and stuck her tongue out, as if trying to get rid of a bad taste. You couldn’t help but burst into slightly drunken giggles, clutching your stomach as you nudged your bespeckled friend with your foot. 

“Oh, Penny, you have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

So… you did. You found another rebound.

It wasn’t hard. You weren’t exactly unattractive, and the city was full of single men. Penelope had helped you set up a dating profile on your phone that night, which you regretted instantly in the morning when you saw what photos the pair of you had drunkenly chosen. After a little editing and deleting all of the drunken typos from the ‘About’ section, you were happy with it. 

No more Aaron. No more dangerous rebounds and rough sex with your boss when you were both emotionally drained. As you sank back on your couch, some trash on the TV and a steaming mug of coffee in hand, you ran your hand over one of the throw pillows. He’d had you, right there. A sharp exhale left your nose at the thought. That was the night you knew you’d gone too far with him.

It had been raining non stop. More than Seattle ever could, it seemed. You were exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open as you rustled around in the wardrobe for something to wear to bed. The case you’d just come home from was awful. Hotch had a giant stick up his ass the entire time and it was making the rest of the team miserable. You’d knocked on his hotel room door to check on him and ended up completely ignored. It was just a mess of a case that you were lucky to have actually solved, and the entire jet home you all sat glaring out of the windows in complete silence. 

The knock on your front door startled you near out of your senses. Who could possibly be banging on your door that late at night? Stupid question. You knew exactly who it was, and he was coming to let off steam. Throwing on a robe, you padded bare-footed to the front door and cracked it open. A soaking wet Aaron Hotchner stood on the precipice of your home, dark eyes glinting down at you. Both of you stood staring at one another for a moment, as if you were nervous. 

“It’s raining,” he said simply, his voice soft. Fuck’s sake. When he used that voice, your knees weakened. All animosity and annoyance you had for him managed to disappear. 

“You’re quite the profiler,” you replied quietly, making him grin. You could see his teeth glinting in the light of your hallway. It pleased you that he remained getting rained on. He deserved it, treating you all like shit and then expecting to come over for sex. I mean, he’s going to get it, you thought to yourself, but I might as well play this game.

Hotch cocked an eyebrow. “Can I come in?”

“Maybe.” Your response was too quick, too breathless. He knew you needed this as much as he did. Ten minutes later, he was on your couch, head lolled back, eyes squeezed shut, your mouth moving slowly down the column of his cock, cheeks hollowed. One of his hands shot up to grab you by the hair, pacing you just to his liking. Soft pants fell from his lips as you swirled your tongue around his leaking tip, groaning around his length. When your eyes flicked up to look at him, he was looking down at you, face flushed. His eyebrows were knitted in concentration, dark eyes fixed on yours. You groaned around his cock, the sight of him almost too much. His mouth fell open in a silent cry as you took him to the very back of your throat, eyes watering, breath coming out in short hisses from your nose. His other hand slammed itself down on your head and, with a rough, gargled groan of your name, Aaron Hotchner finished down your throat. You gagged at the sudden feeling, pulling your head away and falling back on your haunches, holding a hand under your chin so as not to spill anything on your brand new rug. Panting, Aaron watched as you swallowed his load, something like a whimper escaping him as he watched you. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said breathlessly. You laughed, a short, harsh bark. 

“I don’t have to do a lot of things,” you replied. A flicker of annoyance crossed his sweaty face. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you sat back on your heels and watched him tuck himself back into his pants and begin to stand. 

“I’ll go make you some tea,” he grunted, shaking his legs off and buckling his belt. This was another recurring thing with Aaron that made it harder and harder for you to stay away: his aftercare was great. You collapsed back onto your rug, staring at the ceiling, arms splayed out either side of you as he pottered about in the kitchen, helping himself to your mugs and tea-making supplies. What am I doing? You scolded yourself, sighing deeply as you listened to him move about. If you closed your eyes and imagined hard enough, this could be something normal. Your boyfriend moving about the kitchen, making you tea to soothe your used throat. But it wasn’t. It was your situationship, your boss, making you tea after he’d just come in your mouth. 

There were a lot of decisions you could have made at that moment. You could have just stayed there, happily waiting for him to return with a cup of herbal tea just how you like it. You could have kicked him out the kitchen, told him you could make the tea yourself. You could have even kicked him out of your apartment, telling him to never come back and that this messy, messy situation you’d gotten yourself into had to stop. You could have done any of those things, and they would have been ten times better than the decision you actually made. Wordlessly, you hauled yourself up and off the floor and went into the kitchen. He stood at the stove, one arm bracing the counter, the other on his hip as he watched the pot boil. He glanced over when he heard you enter, his eyes flickering up and down your body, drinking you in. You stood at the doorway for a moment, allowing him to look at you. It was a bit like a stand off, both of you staring at one another, nothing but the breakfast bar between you. 

“Your tea is almost done,” he said quietly. Aaron was good at breaking the ice, always knowing what to say. It was the lawyer in him. His response to confrontation, however, was when Aaron Hotchner, the FBI agent, shone through. You could practically hear his cogs turning as he studied your face carefully. He did this thing where his dark eyes would scan, side to side, never stopping but never seeming erratic. Always level. Looking for a flicker of a frown, a bead of sweat. Always trying to guess your next move, your next words. To anyone outside of the BAU, this would be… unsettling, at best. But you knew that he knew that you knew what he was doing. Knew. Knew. I know you, Aaron Hotchner. I see you. 

“I think about you all the time,” you began, slowly. His nostrils flared when he gritted out your name. A warning shot. It didn’t deter you. “I think about you inside me. I think about how stupid you make me. I think about how you fuck me over your desk and have to turn around the photos of your wife because your moral compass lasts for a little while, up until you see my underwear.” 

“Stop,” Aaron breathed. You moved around the breakfast bar as the kettle began to whistle. A quiet bubbling undercut the whistling, but it grew louder and louder as you stared at one another, chests rising and falling sequentially, breath in, breath out. Rhythmic, but not in sync. 

“I think about falling in love with you. How, maybe, I’m already half way there.”

It felt like you’d been winded. Your heart was hammering on the inside of your ribcage, threatening to shatter the bone and splinter your chest. Aaron was completely unmoving. On the stove, the kettle screamed. 

“I follow you around like a stupid, loyal dog. I come away from cases at my desk so we can have sex. I limp home after you’ve had a bad day and think the heat in between my legs is a blessing. I curl myself into a ball when you don’t want me and wait, like a stupid, loyal dog until you do again.”

We’re such a mess together. You make me lose my temper. 

Aaron cursed. The kettle had bubbled up and over, sizzling violently on the stove, plumes of white steam curling up towards the ceiling. You took a step back as he grabbed a tea towel and dragged the kettle off of the stove and into the sink, a flurry of curses falling from his usually mild-mannered mouth. As he growled at the sink, you darted in to turn the stove off and flick the extractor fan on, the steam beginning to choke the kitchen a little too much. A little bit of teamwork. You could feel his eyes on you as you wiped the stove down, but it was too hard to look at him. It had been easier to blame this all on him, even when it was both of you that had gotten into this mess. 

Aaron went to say your name. 

“I think you should go.” 

Penny:

Guuuuuuuud luck on your DATE tonight!!! Send a pic of your outfit before you leave! Kisses! <3

You:

[You sent a photo]

Is this too slutty..?

You:

I have this irrational fear that there’ll be a mass shooting or something and I have to wear this dress and a bulletproof fbi veat

You:

*vest

Penny:

OHHH YOU SEXY THANG!!!!!!!!!! 

Penny:

Derek has JUST sworn to me he will stop anything murdery from happening across the entire state tonight, tonight is YOUR night miss agent lady! 

Penny:

Oh, btw, it is SO slutty. Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Rolling your eyes, a grin plastered across your red lips, you tossed your phone onto your bed and looked into the mirror for the millionth time that night. The dating app profile you and Penelope had set up had been a great success, and you were just about to leave for a date with Ryan, a high school teacher. He had floppy hair, a stupid smile, and had a job so far out of the realm of your own that you were excited to talk about some stupid highschoolers with him rather than Unsubs. 

It had been a couple of days since Haley and Aaron had finalized their divorce. Ever since your discussion in his office, Aaron had avoided you like the plague. That suited you just fine. Distance would be what healed your relationship with him, and you could slip back into being a boss and his subordinate. Just like how it had been before. You smoothed a hand down your stomach, over the fabric of your dress, and thought of Penelope. The pure, visceral fear you had felt when you heard she’d been shot. The darkened look in Aaron’s eyes as he sped over to her apartment. The way his knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Your hand grasping his thigh as he drove because you felt like you were going to throw up. It was always going to be personal. Your team were more than work colleagues; they were your family. Aaron had been such an integral part of your life for years at that point, and imagining a life where he was just your boss was… well, it was impossible. 

A shuddering breath left your painted lips. Behind you, your phone buzzed. 

Ryan (Tinder):

Hi just checking in! I’m about to drive over to the restaurant. I know you said you don’t need picking up but im still happy to swing by along the way! Super super excited to meet you! 😀

You smiled at your phone. He was like a Golden Retriever. Your nails tapped gently against the screen as you wrote a reply. 

You:

No need! Driving myself stops me from buying a bottle of wine lol

You:

See you soon!

Ryan (Tinder):

Smart thinking! See you soon! 👍

The restaurant you had both chosen was slightly fancy, but you still felt slightly overdressed as you clacked towards the entrance, stuffing your car keys into your handbag. One of your hands ghosted at your dress, pulling it down even when it was fully stretched. You hadn’t done this for a long time. Your ex had been your friend, and Aaron had been your boss, so a first date with a stranger wasn’t something you’d ever encountered before. Well. You’d encountered murdered women that had been on a first date, but other than that. On the corner just before the restaurant you stopped and softly clicked open your handbag. Beside your purse and perfume, your gun winked up at you, reminding you of its almost overbearing presence. Better safe than sorry, right? 

I mean, he knows I’m an FBI agent, you thought to yourself. Surely he expects me to have a gun.

Aaron would have laughed at that. You clicked your handbag shut and forced yourself forward.

Ryan was waiting for you outside of the restaurant, smoking the last of a cigarette. You couldn’t help but grin at the sheepish look he shot you when he caught your eye, tossing the butt to the floor and quickly stepping on it with his shoe. 

“Not a good first impression,” he laughed, greeting you with a side hug. He smelt like cigarettes and a slightly musky aftershave. It was not an unpleasant combination. “You didn’t even give me a chance to slip myself some gum.” 

You giggled, shaking your head. “Don’t be silly. You work with high schoolers. I’d smoke too.” 

“You work with murderers,” he quipped, and you burst into laughter. 

“Touché.” 

You took Ryan’s arm happily and he led you inside, giving his name to the hostess. You looked around instinctively as you waited for a waiter to be assigned to you. There were two exits you could see: one to the restaurant area, and a second to the adjoining bar. You assumed there were multiple more in the kitchen areas, and they’d be the fire exits. The restaurant was busy, the sound of cutlery clinking and soft conversations cushioning the silence you’d found yourself in whilst you were taking inventory of your surroundings. 

“Do you do that everywhere you go?” Ryan asked quietly, in your ear. Your head snapped around to face him, an apology already forming on your lips, but the man was just grinning softly at you. It made your heart feel funny, like you were a schoolgirl with a crush again. He must be a very hot topic amongst his students. 

“It’s an instinct,” you explained as a waiter led you to your table. It was one of the outer ones, closest to the bar. The bar was much sparser than the restaurant; the food there clearly outshone the cocktails. “Exits and windows are your most important things to initially look at. Then any potential blind spots.” 

You cringed slightly. Talking like that made you sound like Morgan. You really didn’t want Ryan to think you were some sort of macho, self-important GI Joe. He gazed at you with these sparkling, dark blue eyes that made your breath hitch. It was like every one of your words were worth listening to, worth making an effort for. It made you giddy with glee. When you apologised under your breath sheepishly, Ryan held his hands in the air, laughing. 

“Don’t apologise! What you do is super cool, dude,” he said, pushing his hair back and letting it flop differently. “Sorry. Shouldn’t call you dude.”

He grinned when you laughed loudly.

Once you’d both ordered your meals and the first drinks came, the conversation slipped into hobbies and interests. Ryan was fantastic at commanding a conversation, whilst also giving you more than enough space to answer his questions and choose your own topics. Your stomach was beginning to ache, you were laughing so much, and the lop-sided smile Ryan wore hadn’t left his face the entire night. You couldn’t believe your luck. Penelope Garcia I am going to kiss you on the mouth when I see you at work tomorrow. Your eyes worked over Ryan’s body, raking left to right, inhaling him ocularly. Profiling him. You couldn’t turn it off. His outfit was probably one that he wore for work, maybe for a parent-teacher conference. It was something akin to what Reid would wear: a brown jacket that he’d taken off and carefully put over the back of his chair, a button-up cream shirt that had the first top two buttons undone. Brown slacks and black dress shoes. It was all ridiculously charming. The shirt was slightly crumpled and every now and then, he’d pat the pocket of his trousers to make sure his packet of cigarettes were still in there safely. He wasn’t used to styling his hair in the way he’d done it that night, and every time he raked a hand through his hair, he’d rub his fingers together, the feeling of the product he’d used foreign to him. 

“How long have you been single?” you asked, forking at your salad. Why the hell did I order this? It’s literally just leaves and a ring of dressing. Ryan’s eyes flicked from your plate to you, darting behind you then back. Was he… was he also trying to survey the area? Cute. A sheepish look graced his face. It was so boyishly charming that you found yourself smiling. 

“My whole life?” he answered, shyly unsure of himself. “I was such a nerd in high school and college. I was head of the debate team and took it way, way too seriously. I also played in the chess regionals. So, no time for girls, really. Sorry- women, I mean. No time for women.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of your throat. This was exactly what you needed. It felt cruel calling Ryan a rebound at that point. He was such a separate breed of human being to your ex and to Aaron. It was like filling your lungs with fresh air. You took a sip of your wine before replying. 

“Chess? I have a friend that would love you,” you replied, putting your glass down and tentatively forking some salad into your mouth. 

“We’re already at the ‘introductions to friends’ stage? I must have made a great impression already,” Ryan joked, his tongue darting out and licking across his bottom lip as he grinned at you. Something warm dripped into your stomach and you returned his grin. 

“Down, boy,” you teased, your voice low. “Don’t get too excited.” 

Ryan quickly looked away as a quiet whimper fell from his mouth. Pride filled your chest; you’d never had this kind of advantage over a man before. Of course, you’d keep it respectful, but the thought of eliciting more of those noises from him made you shift in your seat slightly to relieve the pressure building between your legs. Ryan’s eyes rose again, moving from your face to just behind you again. You frowned at him. That hadn’t been the first time that evening he’d checked out the bar behind you. His eyes never lingered long, always seemed to fix on the same place and not take in the rest of the bar. You glanced behind you, trying to follow his eye. The bar had filled up a little bit more at that point, but it only seemed to be regulars, sitting away from one another. Two people in a corner, nursing two half-consumed beers. A woman, presumably the barmaid, wiping a booth down. Somebody in a peacoat pushed open the door to the bar, making the bell hanging above twinkle quietly. One man in a suit sat at the bar, cradling a whiskey. 

One man in a suit sat at the bar, cradling a whiskey. 

The man looked over his shoulder again, chin pressed against his arm. Aaron Hotchner’s dark eyes met yours before looking away and taking a sip of his whiskey. 

Ryan was saying something. By the intonation, he was trying to probe an answer from you about something. You didn’t hear. Perhaps you couldn’t hear: it felt like you’d been submerged underwater. The waiter reappeared, pointing at your plate, probably asking you something too. God, why is everyone talking to me? 

“Excuse me,” you managed, taking the thick napkin you’d laid across your lap and pressing it to your mouth before standing, far too quickly, and rushing off towards the bathroom. Behind you, you could have sworn you heard a barstool scraping against wooden flooring. 

Why was he here? Why today? Why were you reacting like this? Pushing open the door to the women’s washroom with your shoulder, you tripped over to the sink and stared at yourself in the large mirror. Today was meant to be about me. Not him. Why is he fucking everywhere? Shaking hands fiddled with the clasp of your handbag and you shoved your cell and gun aside to find your lipstick. Taking slow, shuddering breaths, you tried to calm yourself down as you popped the cap off and wound the red lipstick up slowly. The ritualistic application of the makeup was enough to calm you down. He’d go soon. If you didn’t pay him any attention, he would go, and you could finish your lovely date with lovely Ryan. Because he really was lovely. You were already slightly giddy thinking about going on another date with him, in a much comfier outfit than the dress you were wearing. The shock of seeing Aaron was beginning to subside. With much steadier hands, you returned your lipstick to your handbag and fixed your hair in the mirror, smiling at your reflection. Pouting at your reflection. Winking at your reflection. There we go. Joy restored. You’re going to go back out there and blame the wine and awful salad dressing and- 

The door to the washroom began to creak open and you cursed, ready to apologise to the woman trying to get in that you hadn’t locked the door and it was still occupied. A large hand curled around the door, followed by a shoulder, followed by the rest of SSA Aaron Hotchner. Eyes wide, you stared up at him as he slipped inside and locked the door shut behind him, his eyes never once leaving you. 

“Who is that?” he asked, his voice quiet. Anger rippled through you like an electric shock. It was red and hot, and your nostrils flared in annoyance. 

“You have some cheek,” you hissed, walking over to jab him in the chest. He winced slightly in pain, and you enjoyed it. You jabbed him again and he grabbed you by the wrist when you pulled your hand back to jab it a third time. “Get your damned hands off of me, Hotchner.” 

“Who is that?” he repeated, slower this time, each word enunciated as if he had created them. The grip on your wrist tightened and you felt your stomach churn in some sick sort of excitement. Breath huffing from your nose, you glared up at him. 

“My date,” you replied, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Because it was. Aaron’s grip twisted, bringing your hand higher up as he began to back you against the wall. One of your feet slipped beneath you, not enough traction between heel and tiled floor, too much pushing from above. Aaron just jerked you upwards, your next step landing, your body not struggling enough for your liking. “What are you-” 

“You move on quickly,” he observed as your back hit the cold wall of the bathroom. It pulled a gasp from you, soft, shocked. Your back arched from the wall on instinct, too cold on the bare skin the dress exposed. Aaron closed in, nudging your legs apart with his knee, pressing it upwards into your crotch. The gasp melted into a shocked moan, mouth agape, your senses full of him. His mouth lowered to your neck, one of his hands sliding down your waist and hip, his fingers brushing along the hem of your dress. You couldn’t help yourself; your head rolled back, eyes flickering into the back of your skull as his hot breath rolled down your neck and back, the tips of his fingers just teasing themselves underneath your skirt. 

It was hard to find words. Your hands scrabbled at his blazer, finding purchase and yanking him in closer. 

“I’m trying to get over you,” you spat, biting down hard on your lip when his fingers began to bend round to your inner thigh. Your next words were muffled by your lip. “You were the one who ended things.” 

“I don’t see you pushing me away.” His reply was quick. Aaron’s dark eyes were locked on yours as his fingertips finally, finally reached your underwear. The pad of his finger swept along your clothed slit, his other hand gripping your waist tightly. You sucked in a shaky breath. No, you weren’t pushing him away. Instead, when he growled about how wet you already were in your ear, your hips ground down automatically. The thickness of his calloused fingers rubbed perfectly against your swollen clit, and your hips didn’t stop. Aaron’s teeth found your neck and sunk into the supple flesh, a broken cry leaving your mouth as they did, your hips bucking again and again, pathetically, against his unmoving hand. 

His mouth moved down, slowly, to your collarbone, leaving a line of bites that alternated between soft and so hard you hissed out in pain. Your hips didn’t stop moving, and when he moved his hand, dipping his fingers under your lacy underwear and into your warm wetness, your eyes widened and your hips became a crazed, desperate frenzy. His fingers made small circles around your clit, and each drag along it made stars explode behind your eyes.

“Look at yourself.” Your head had fallen onto his shoulder, his mouth back at your ear. “Fucking yourself on my hand. I’m not even doing anything.”

“I’m thinking about him,” you managed out, whimpering when he drew his hand away completely. 

Aaron took a step back, a disgusted look on his face. 

“No you’re not,” he said, dangerously quiet. You were still panting, face warm, your entire body vibrating with arousal. 

“Yes I am. I’m thinking about how I’m going to take him home tonight and scream his name into the same pillow I did when you-”

You didn’t have time to finish that sentence. Aaron gripped you by the hips, twirled you around, bent you over the sink, your hands barely having time to brace yourself on the curved porcelain before he was yanking your dress up and kneading the soft muscle of your ass. You couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror; the thought of Ryan waiting for you at the table as Aaron was taking his cock out of his slacks and pushing your underwear to the side with a thumb made you feel sick. 

“Tell me you want this,” he ordered, stroking his leaking cock with one hand, the other holding you still by your waist, locking eyes with you in the mirror. The groan that came from you didn’t sound human. It was a noise of pure, disgusting want. It was a noise from a woman that had been reduced to nothing. It wasn’t you. 

“Please, Aaron,” you gritted out. 

Aaron wasn’t a man that second-guessed things. You had barely finished the word please before he was entering you. That sting. How intoxicating that sting was. How much you’d missed it. It had barely been a month since you last slept with him. Your bodies still knew one another so well. Once fully sheathed, Aaron did not give you a chance to breathe. His free hand moved up, wrapping your hair tightly around his fist and yanking, forcing you to look at yourself. His thrusts were brutal; his hips snapped against yours, forceful, meaningful, almost arrogant. He groaned, deep in his chest, his head tipping back, eyelids drooping as he watched your face twist in pleasure in the mirror. 

Aaron’s pace didn’t stop. With the hand that was on your waist, he pulled you back onto his cock over and over as you made every attempt to try and stay upright. 

“Are you still thinking about him?” he asked, and you hated yourself for how quickly you shook your head. 

“No, no no no no.” Your voice was high, whiny, desperate. “Only you. It’s only ever been you.” 

Aaron was shocked you could even string a sentence together. He tugged on your hair and you groaned loudly, forgetting where you were, forgetting your proximity to the man you were on a date with. It’s okay. Aaron thought for you. You were completely at his behest, bending to his every whim and desire. He let go of your hair and shoved his fingers in your mouth, groaning quietly at the sight of you drooling around his thick digits. 

Your knees began to shake as you neared your orgasm. The sight of Aaron staring at you in the mirror was too much. Every now and then your eyes would glance down to yourself, Aaron’s fingers in your mouth, the drool running down your chest and his wrist, pooling at his expensive watch. It was all too much. 

“Go’a cu’,” you attempted, not able to speak like that. Your eyes widened in shock when his hand came down on your ass, hard, his thrusts keeping pace. In the mirror, you could see his eyes were locked on the sight of your pussy accommodating him, his eyebrows drawn in, mouth agape. He was close. You’d slept with him enough to know that. The coil in your stomach tightened, your eyes slamming shut as you clamped your teeth down, hard, on his fingers. Your whole body seized as your orgasm claimed you, biting down on Aaron’s fingers as he tried to wrestle them away. You hoped it hurt.

“God- Fuck!” 

Aaron managed to pull his fingers away just before he reached his own orgasm. He hissed your name as both of his hands gripped your waist, jerking his hips forward as he emptied himself inside of you. Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed, exhausted, onto the sink. Both of you stood there silently, the only noise filling the restaurant’s bathroom being your ragged breathing. 

Ryan (Tinder) 

Hey! Thank you so much for such a good date last night. 

Sorry you got sick half way through, I did think that salad looked suspicious

Ryan (Tinder) 

Let me know if you want to meet up again. I really liked spending time with you 🙂

Nausea swirled in your stomach when you glanced down at your cell. You were sitting at your desk, chewing your nails to shreds. Your computer glared at you with an email you really didn’t want to reply to, and now your phone was baring its teeth at you too. After a moment of contemplation, you picked up your phone and typed a reply. 

You

Yeah I had so much fun! I’d love to see you again.

You turned your phone onto Do Not Disturb and chucked it behind you. It hit something before clattering to the floor. Swallowing down the guilt that had been occupying your stomach since last night, you turned your attention to your computer. Your fingers worked slowly across the keyboard, acting as if you’d never been presented with such technology before. 

To: erin.strauss @ fbi . gov

Subject: Transferral 

Dear Strauss, 

Thank you for your email and quick correspondence. 

I’d like this email to stand as my official request to resign from the BAU with immediate notice. I have had interest from Counterterrorism and Organized Crimes.

I realise that this means I will have to be transferred from Quantico to another branch, and I appreciate your concerns, but this will be beneficial to me. I believe that I am not finding the BAU beneficial to me anymore, and it is time to move on. 

I am free for a meeting tomorrow, yes. I look forward to it. 

You pressed send and turned your computer off. It was easy to start crying when you crawled into bed, the silence of your apartment pressing in on you, the memory of Aaron Hotchner in every crevice. You needed to leave. Run away and not look back. When you turned your face into your pillow to scream, you swore you could smell his aftershave. 

Penelope’s nails dug into your arm as she dragged you along the corridor towards her office. She refused to look at you. In the brief moment she had looked at you, there were tears in her eyes. Every time you tried to say something, she just shook her head, blonde ponytail bobbing. You both reached her office and she rushed you inside, slamming the door shut. Keeping one hand on the door, she finally turned to look at you. Tears had dripped down her painted cheeks and your chest tightened. 

“Explain.” 

You did. You explained everything to her, because there was no use lying to her. You told her about Ryan, and seeing Aaron in the bar. How you had sex with him in the bathroom, and then lied to Ryan about throwing up and cut the date short. Penelope watched you talk the entire time with a horrified look on her face. 

“...and now you’re looking at me like that,” you ended your story with, and Penelope’s face melted into a glare. 

“Of course I am!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “You do a couple bad things and run away from them? Who even are you?” 

She was right. You were taking the coward’s way out. Everything working with the FBI had taught you- resilience, strength, trusting your team- you’d completely ignored. Sought escape rather than holding your own and fighting for yourself. 

Penelope blinked at you. You frowned at her, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“Pen, I feel like I’m drowning in him,” you began, softly. The glare left Penelope’s face. “Everything is him. Work is him. I go on a date with a really great guy and he’s there. I lose myself when I’m around him. I become stupid, make idiotic decisions, let myself be completely part of him. He changes, too. We’re terrible for one another, and we’ll continue to be terrible for one another until one of us leaves. And my life is much easier to uproot than his is.” 

All Penelope could do was say your name, softly, and bring you in for a hug. You hugged her tight to your chest, smelling her soft vanilla perfume, feeling her chunky necklaces press against your chest. You hated that you were losing this. You hated that you were losing your job at the BAU, and your life in Virginia. All for someone who was meant to solve things. All for someone that was so good. Too good. You had to pick him out of your teeth before they began to rot. 

It wasn’t that Aaron was a bad guy - he was anything but. You knew that he was good. But he was not good for you. You turned one another into animals, clawing, biting, possessive. Cannibalised one another, emphasising distraction rather than facing the actual problems in your lives. As you sat across from him later that day, Strauss next to you, he stared at you and he knew. He always knows. Perhaps he’ll know more than anyone else you’ll ever meet in your life. 

You and Strauss stood up to leave. He shook Strauss’ hand and she nodded at you both, turning and leaving. You lingered behind, glancing over at him. Sighing, he nodded, and you closed the door behind her, leaving just you two behind. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. There was so much tender sincerity in his dark eyes that you felt sick. “I’m sorry for what happened in the restaurant. I…” 

Aaron looked away from you, frowning, deep in thought. Aaron Hotchner never second guessed himself. Until right now. 

“It’s not just that, Aaron. I’m dangerously infatuated with you. It’s not good for me, and I don’t like who I become around you,” you replied, your voice equally as quiet as his. His eyes slid to yours, and you shrugged. What else were you to do? 

“I just don’t know what I want.” Your heart seemed to stop in your chest. You stared at him as he looked at the floor, trying to gather his thoughts. Trying to stay stoic and certain, trying to stay himself. It was useless. You both melted in front of one another, unable to stick with this narrative of a person you try to be to everyone else. “I have so many things happening to me, and you weren’t ever meant to solve them, but I started using you to distract me, and that turned into my expecting you to solve all my problems. You can’t do that - Christ, I can’t do that.” 

We’re such a mess together. 

You make me lose my temper. 

“Then I do have to do this,” you said, simply. Aaron frowned at you. He wasn’t happy with that answer. But you wouldn’t be happy if you stayed. It was, ultimately, a choiceless choice. Choose between unhappiness or unfamiliarity. You stepped towards him and reached a hand up, cradling his cheek in your palm. He needed to shave. His stubble bristled against your skin, sharp, wary. One of his thumbs wiped away a tear that you didn’t realise was rolling down your cheek. 

“It couldn’t have been anyone else,” he whispered.

“I know.”