mangotiramimisu

[mangotiramimisu]

husband!simon riley who backs his wife's rights and wrongs cw: murder next

you fucked up. majorly, as you stared at the bloody body on your living room floor, red seaping into the grooves of the floorboards. you were frozen, perhaps it was shock as you watched the carnage seep into your nice rug that simon had bought you.

you ran your hands through your hair, only spreading the blood across your soft skin and threads of hair. how would you explain this to your husband? how would you hide this from your husband? how would you explain to him the rug, that you begged for, was suddenly not to your liking, because it had a massive splotch of someone's else's blood? no mistaking that for a period stain.

you were royally fucked, pacing back and forth, avoiding splatters of blood as you thought millions of plans in your head.

what if you dumped the body in the dumpster? no, the body would decompose far too quickly, and not to mention the smell. it's the middle of the fucking summer and hot as balls outside! okay, well, what if you stuffed the body in a suitcase and buried it? no, no, it was too big to fit in even your largest. oh, what if you cut him up? back up, that's even more blood that you'd have to deal with. plus, digging was never your thing.

all this time panicking left time wasted, and soon enough, your lovely, unsuspecting husband had pulled into the driveway. you shrieked to yourself as you peaked out the blinds, scrambling back to the body, but yet again, what the fuck could you do?

the front door opened and closed quickly after, the sounds of boots being kicked off and disposed as panic rose in your body. fuck, this was it. you were definitely going to jail, your husband will never trust you again, wouldn't even pay a visit. you could hear his voice calling, increasingly becoming more concerned without a response.

footsteps followed, and he appeared around the corner. his eyes landed on you, then the body, and then you, and then the body, and then—you get it. his eyes scanned your smooth skin for injury, narrowing at the blood before confirming it wasn't yours.

"wot have i told ya about makin' messes near yer precious rug, swee'eart?" he grunted, shrugging off his coat and tossing it to the couch, pulling you in by your hips, pressed against his front as a thumb swiped away a blood splat on your cheek, "y'okay?"

you looked at him dumbfounded, lips parted in shock as you stuttered, "y...yeah," you swallowed thickly, immediately moving to explain yourself, "but simon, i-"

"shhhh, don't say a word, pretty thin', I've got't." he coos lowly, petting your hair, rubbing the strands between the pads of his gloved fingers as he eyed the blood, "go take a shower 'n look all pretty f'me, yeah? can ya do'tha?"

your eyes darted around, but a firm grasp on your chin kept your attention to him. you swallowed thickly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he walked in, and nodded again. detaching from his side, you skidded down the hall to rid yourself of the dead man's blood.

after you disappeared into the bathroom, simon let out a deep sigh, "who the fuck is this?" he muttered gruffly to himself, shaking his head as he crouched near the body, tilting his head multiple ways as he examined further before shrugging it off, "wot'vr the missus wants."

yeah, he wouldn't question you. you wanted someone dead? had to be for a good reason, and he'll buy you a new rug after tossing that one. but he wouldn't tell you when the police dropped by about the disappearance of the man. don't wanna stress out the missus.

[mangotiramimisu]

please PLEASE Can you write reader ovulating with Simon Riley, his dick would hurt by the end.

what happens to simon riley when you're ovulating (his dick would fall off if it were me tbh)

your sex life with simon is already active as is, so the moment you start ovulating, he's in trouble. serious trouble. you can barely keep yourself off of him. everything he does sends a throbbing want to your pussy.

manspreading? you're already on top of him, tugging his jeans down just enough to ride his heavy cock. his big hands find purchase on your hips, grunting lowly.

"fuckin' eager, huh?" he's only half hard by the time you're bouncing on him, and you don't get off until either of you can't speak, and you've ruined yet another pair of his jeans from the amount of slick and cum that stains the fabric.

rolling up his sleeves, seeing the way his forearms and veins flex? you're begging him to finger you, and he gladly listens.

"need me t'fuckin' fill ya full, don't ya?" bent over whatever surface of your house, stuffed full of his fingers knuckle deep as your walls clench around him. one orgasm isn't enough, two, three, four, five until you're babbling incoherently and spraying the front of his shirt with your release.

the thing men do when they reverse, placing one hand behind the passenger seat? belt, GONE. you make hasty work of his jeans just so you can suck his dick as he drives—bonus points if he's still reversing. half-way laid across the center console with a face-full of his throbbing cock, already leaking pre. he's a mess, whimpers spilling from his lips as he bites down on the plush flesh. he's pulling your panties to the side, burying three fingers deep in your cunt with ease at the sheer wetness of your pussy.

him, reading with glasses? you bet he isn't taking his eyes off a single page as he ruts into you from behind, book laid across your back slick with sweat. he might be a little mean, make you fuck yourself back on his dick, balls slightly slapping your clit enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. get a drop of cum on his book, and he'll punish you.

getting passionate about his interests? fuck in missionary so he can continue yapping as he toys with your clit and pounds into your throbbing cunt. his words are long lost on you—you don't even notice when his words start getting condescending.

"always gettin' in m'pants..." he grunts, the sound of skin slapping and mindless whimpers and mewls fill the room, "fuckin' slut, you tryin' to get pregnant? want me t'fill you? dirty whore..."

by the end of your ovulation phase, you might've definitely gotten knocked up, and his dick is no longer with us. (he still has his hands and face, ladies...)

[mangotiramimisu]

𝐈𝐓’𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄 (warning. angst.)

Madison lay tangled in the sheets, the soft glow of early morning light brushing against her bare shoulder. The space beside her was warm, a lingering echo of the night before. Sam had been different this time. Quieter. Gentle, like he was holding on just a little too tight.

She blinked sleep from her eyes and reached over—only to find the space empty.

Not again.

A part of her had prepared for this. She always did, whether she admitted it or not. Because Sam Winchester never stayed. He was like smoke—impossible to hold, no matter how close you got.

The sound of rustling came from the living room. Madison pulled on one of his flannels, her feet cold against the wooden floor as she stepped out.

He was standing by the door, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, eyes downcast.

“Sam,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, startled—but maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he’d hoped she’d sleep through it. Maybe he wanted to avoid this part.

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the ache blooming in her chest. “You’re leaving again.”

Sam’s throat bobbed. “Yeah.”

“For how long this time?”

He looked away. “I… I don’t know.”

Her laugh was dry. Bitter. “You never do.”

He stepped forward, guilt written in the lines of his face. “Maddie, I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did.” She met his gaze, dark eyes locking onto his hazel ones. “Every time you disappear, I wait. I tell myself there’s a reason, that you’ll explain it, that it’s not what it looks like.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Silence settled thick between them.

“I thought this time was different,” she whispered. “You said you wanted to build something with me. You talked about maybe getting a place, about not running anymore.”

Sam flinched. “I did want that. I still do. But—”

“There’s always a ‘but’ with you, Sam.”

He stepped back like her words were bullets. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Then tell me,” she pleaded. “God, just tell me the truth for once. Whatever it is, I can take it.”

He hesitated, hand gripping the strap of his bag like it was a lifeline. “It’s not that simple.”

She blinked back the sting in her eyes. “Do you love me?”

The words hovered in the air. He didn’t answer right away.

“I do.” It broke out of him, raw and real. “I love you so damn much, Madison.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

His jaw tightened. He looked like he was holding back an ocean.

“Because if I stay, people get hurt.”

Madison stepped forward, fury simmering beneath her skin. “You think this doesn’t hurt?” she asked, voice cracking. “You think walking out without an explanation—without letting me in—is somehow safer?”

Sam looked like he was falling apart right in front of her, but he didn’t move. Didn’t close the space between them.

“I can’t tell you what I do. I can’t tell you why I leave. All I can say is… it’s not about you.”

“But it always feels like it is.” She exhaled sharply. “What is it, Sam? What’s so important that you keep choosing it over me?”

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were rimmed with regret.

“It’s family,” he said quietly. “It’ll always be family over me. Over everything.”

Her heart cracked. Not because he didn’t love her—but because he did. And it still wasn’t enough.

“So that’s it,” she said, voice trembling. “You’re choosing them. Again.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to make it.”

They stood in silence. He looked like he wanted to kiss her, to say something else, but instead he turned.

“Goodbye, Madison.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Madison sank to her knees in the middle of the living room, Sam’s flannel still hanging off her shoulders like a ghost of something that could’ve been.

She didn’t cry. Not right away.

But when the tears finally came, they didn’t stop.

Because love wasn’t always enough.

And this time, she knew—Sam Winchester was never coming back.

He told himself not to look back.

Not at the door. Not at the apartment building that still smelled like her lavender candles and vanilla lotion. Not at the window where she’d sometimes sit and read, legs tucked under her, sunlight catching the golden undertones of her brown skin.

He knew if he looked, he’d go back. And he couldn’t afford to.

Not this time.

Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary as he drove into the night, headlights cutting through the dark like it owed him something. Dean had texted hours ago—coordinates, a possible hunt. Just like always.

And like always, Sam answered the call.

But this time, it cost him Madison.

God, he didn’t mean to fall for her again. He thought he could stop it, keep her at arm’s length, keep her safe. But she had that smile. That laugh. That fierce way she loved—wholehearted and without apology.

And Sam? He was just a shadow of a man trying to hold onto something good.

He remembered her hand in his the night before, soft and sure. The way she whispered his name like it meant something sacred. She didn’t know the truth, not really. She didn’t know about the monsters, the blood, the nights he couldn’t sleep because of what he’d seen, what he’d done.

He kept it from her to protect her.

But maybe it had always been more about protecting himself.

Because once Madison knew the truth, she wouldn’t look at him the same way.

Sam Winchester: murderer of monsters, liar, nomad. A man who brought danger wherever he went.

And still—he’d almost stayed.

God help him, he’d unpacked his bag that first night back. Put his toothbrush in her bathroom. Bought groceries with her. Slept in her bed like a man who believed he deserved peace.

And for a second, just a second, he let himself pretend.

But then Dean called. And Sam remembered what he was. What they were. The life he could never outrun.

And when Madison asked if he loved her, it almost broke him.

He did. He still did. And that was the worst part.

He pulled off the road somewhere in Colorado. A gas station parking lot. Deserted. Quiet. He killed the engine, leaned back in the seat, and stared at the roof.

Her voice echoed in his head.

“Do you love me?”

“Then why are you leaving?”

Because I don’t know how to stay. Because I don’t deserve you. Because if you knew what I really was, you’d hate me.

His chest ached like something had split open.

He took out his phone. Looked at her contact. “Madison.” No heart, no emoji. Just her name. Clean and simple.

He hovered over the call button.

Don’t.

If you call her, you’ll go back. And if you go back, she’ll get pulled into this life. And then it won’t just be you who pays for it.

He threw the phone into the passenger seat, gripping the wheel again like he could squeeze the pain out of his bones.

Sam had made his choice.

Madison deserved soft mornings and someone who stayed. Someone who didn’t carry guilt in his bloodstream and death in his wake. Someone who didn’t lie with every silence.

He gave her up because he loved her.

And because he was a coward.

Back at the motel, Dean barely looked up from the lore book when Sam walked in.

“You tell her goodbye?” he asked.

Sam didn’t answer.

Dean glanced up, softened just a little. “You okay?”

Sam dropped the duffel by the wall and sat on the edge of the bed like his body had aged a hundred years. “No.”

Dean nodded. “Figured.”

They sat in silence for a while. The only sound was the rustle of pages and the hum of the motel fridge.

“She didn’t know anything,” Sam said eventually. “Not about hunting. Not about me.”

Dean looked over. “And that’s a bad thing?”

Sam shook his head slowly. “No. That’s what made it real.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a while. Just closed the book and leaned forward.

“You think she would’ve stayed if she knew?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “But I didn’t give her the chance to decide.”

Dean exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “You did what you had to. We don’t get to have that life, Sammy. Not the white picket fence. Not the quiet love story.”

“I know.”

But just because he knew didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Sam lay awake most of that night.

In his mind, she was still standing in the doorway, wearing his flannel, begging him to stay.

And in his heart, he knew:

She would’ve been the one.

If only he’d been someone else.

[mangotiramimisu]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐒 (warnings. none.)

Rain slammed against the broken windows of the crumbling safehouse. The world outside was a nightmare symphony—clickers screaming in the dark, thunder cracking open the sky, and the low hum of something worse approaching.

Joel knelt by the door, shotgun at the ready, but his eyes kept drifting toward the woman crouched by the fireplace.

“Rae,” he said, barely above a whisper. “You hear that?”

Rae didn’t answer right away. Her head tilted, listening. Her thick curls clung to her skin, soaked from the sprint they’d made through the downpour. She finally looked over her shoulder, her voice calm but sharp as glass. “They’re close. But something’s off.”

Joel moved closer, crouching beside her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… it’s too quiet between the screams. Like they’re being hunted too.”

The firelight flickered across her face, casting shadows under her high cheekbones and along her collarbone. Joel tried not to look too long, but there was something about Rae that pulled him in like gravity—fierce, resilient, beautiful even in the end of the world.

She reached into her backpack, pulling out a worn switchblade. The initials “N.H.” were carved into the handle. Joel never asked who they belonged to. He knew what loss looked like; hers was carved into every line of her expression.

He exhaled slowly, eyes on the door. “We stay here much longer, we’re sittin’ ducks.”

“I’m not running blind again,” Rae muttered, standing slowly. “Not after Atlanta.”

Joel flinched at the name. He remembered what she’d told him—barely surviving a betrayal that cost her everything. But she stood now like someone who refused to break, no matter how many times the world tried to snap her in half.

A crash outside made both of them freeze. Heavy footfalls. Not infected. Too measured. Too deliberate.

Hunters.

Rae moved first, pulling Joel back toward the kitchen. “Upstairs. Now.”

They moved fast and silent, weaving through broken furniture and creaking steps. Rae led them into a narrow hallway with a single bedroom at the end. Once inside, Joel barricaded the door as Rae checked the window.

“We’ll have to jump,” she said. “Second story won’t kill us.”

Joel looked out. Mud, debris, and a rusted fence below. Not ideal. But she was right—they didn’t have a choice.

But before they could move, a voice called from the hallway.

“Well now… Ain’t this sweet.”

Joel turned, jaw tightening. A man stood in the doorway, silhouetted by flickering hallway light. Gun in hand. Grinning like a devil.

“Rae,” he said. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Her body went rigid.

Joel stepped in front of her, voice low. “You know him?”

Rae’s tone was ice. “Used to. Until he sold out our group to the highest bidder.”

The man laughed. “Don’t be like that, Rae. We had a good thing goin’. But you always were stubborn.”

Joel didn’t hesitate. One shot. The bastard went down hard.

Silence followed.

Rae looked at Joel, her chest rising and falling. “You didn’t have to—”

“I did,” Joel said, stepping close. “Ain’t losin’ anyone else.”

For a second, all the tension and danger vanished. There was just the sound of their breathing and the heat in Rae’s eyes as she looked up at him.

She whispered, “We’ll talk later.”

“Damn right we will.”

Then they jumped. The landing knocked the breath out of Rae. She rolled in the mud, shoulder screaming in protest, but instinct kicked in. She was on her feet before the pain registered. Joel hit the ground beside her with a grunt, already scrambling behind the rusted fence.

Gunfire cracked from above. A bullet pinged off metal inches from Rae’s head.

“Go!” Joel shouted, grabbing her wrist and dragging her behind the collapsed shed. “We’ve got maybe ten seconds before they fan out!”

“Ten seconds is generous,” she hissed, crouching low. Her knife was gone, left upstairs in the scuffle. Joel shoved his revolver into her hands without hesitation.

The gesture caught her off guard.

She took it anyway.

They ran—through knee-high weeds and mud that sucked at their boots—toward the tree line. Rae’s lungs burned, but the fear wasn’t just from the hunters behind them. It was from what she’d seen in Joel’s face after the gunshot upstairs.

He didn’t hesitate. Not to kill. Not to protect her.

And that terrified her more than anything.

They didn’t stop until the woods swallowed them whole.

When they finally collapsed beneath the tangled roots of a fallen tree, Rae’s breath came in ragged gasps. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Joel knelt beside her, sweat and rain streaking his face.

“You okay?” he asked, reaching out—then pulling his hand back like he wasn’t sure he had the right.

She grabbed it anyway, pressed it to her shoulder where the pain throbbed sharp and hot. “Think I dislocated it.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but his eyes darkened. Without a word, he shifted beside her, cradled her arm with surprising gentleness.

“You ready?”

“No,” she muttered. “Do it.”

He yanked. Pain exploded behind her eyes. She bit down on a scream.

When it passed, her head rested on his shoulder.

Joel let her stay there, rain dripping through the leaves above them, the danger momentarily distant.

“You saved me back there,” she murmured.

“I’d do it again.”

Rae turned her head, meeting his eyes. The usual walls in Joel’s face—those heavy, silent barriers he built between himself and the world—were gone for a moment. Just long enough for her to see the man beneath the survivor.

“Why?” she asked, voice barely audible.

His thumb brushed her knuckles.

“’Cause you’re worth savin’.”

The words knocked something loose in her chest. A flicker of warmth, dangerous and persistent, blooming in a world built on ash.

She didn’t kiss him—not yet.

But she leaned in close enough that their foreheads touched, breath mingling between them, and let the moment burn slow.

[mangotiramimisu]

“my fuckin’ pussy” simon says as he’s pounding you in a mating press. your heel-clad feet are hung over his burly shoulders, flopping with every thrust.

“mmmn, yer fuckin” pussy” you slurred back.

“oh my, we’ve gotta talker, doing a little repeat after me? fuckin’ simon says, huh?”

he’s such a tease.

[mangotiramimisu]

i want elvis so bad

[mangotiramimisu]

could you do the prompt ❛ i will never, ever, give you a moment’s peace. ❜ with dark/toxic klaus mikealson?

𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 (warnings. angst. Klaus being obsessed with the reader)

Harper had always known that Klaus Mikaelson was dangerous. The warning signs had been there from the moment he set his eyes on her—eyes that burned with an obsessive hunger, with something deeper than mere desire. Something darker.

“You belong to me, love,” he had whispered the night she tried to run. She still bore the bruises from that lesson, though they had faded like old ink against the deep richness of her skin. But the weight of his words never faded.

Tonight, she sat in the grand, gilded cage of his New Orleans estate, the air thick with jasmine and something cloying—something like possession. The glass of wine in her hand trembled slightly as she stared at the door. She wasn’t afraid. Not exactly. But the exhaustion ran deep, sinking into her bones.

And then, as if summoned by her own thoughts, he appeared.

Klaus leaned against the doorway, a lazy smirk playing at his lips, but his eyes—his damn eyes—gleamed with a promise. “You’ve been quiet, love. That won’t do.”

Harper exhaled slowly, setting the glass down. “I just want some time to myself, Klaus.”

The smirk widened, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Oh, but that would be cruel, wouldn’t it? Depriving me of your presence?” He stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate. “I told you the night you walked into my life—you would never, ever, have a moment’s peace.”

Harper clenched her jaw. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

Klaus chuckled, his voice rich with amusement and something more sinister. “Oh, Harper, my sweet girl, that’s where you’re wrong.” He reached out, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, his touch deceptively gentle. “Even if you escape these walls, you’ll never be free of me. I will haunt your every step. I will be the shadow in your dreams, the whisper in the dark.”

Harper shivered, not from the chill of the night, but from the weight of his words.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “Run if you’d like. Fight if you must. But know this, love—I will always find you. And when I do, you’ll beg for the life you had here, safe under my watchful eye.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she refused to let him see her fear. Instead, she met his gaze with defiance. “You don’t own me.”

Klaus tilted his head, considering her words, then smirked. “We’ll see.”

And with that, he vanished into the night, leaving Harper alone—but never truly free.

klaus mikaelson x reader

[mangotiramimisu]

Literally just so normal about the idea of Werewolf Boyfriend who cries as he fucks your tight cunt because he’s so obsessed and in love with you. He’s drooling all over your chest, sloppily fucking into your cunt as you whine from overstimulation. Fat tears rolling down his furry face because he has to cum inside and knot you because he loves you so fucking much.

Support me Ko-fi for more ☕️ ❤️

[mangotiramimisu]

I’ve got you!

Based on the following ask: I want fluffy romance

It’s an Aaron Hotchner x reader (lmao daddy issues on fleek) anyways

I’d like to see like romantic tension building between them like it begins small but slowly gets bigger and it isn’t until reader gets into trouble (like say almost drowning because she never learned how to swim like my dumbass) that Aaron almost loses it a little and saved reader which makes him end up confessing to each other and they get together and it’s just fluffy romance because as much as I love the smutty stuff, I crave fluff so badly for my poor heart and for Aaron because baby deserves comfort too. Anyways Love you gorgeous

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 2533

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, SLOW BURN, Age gap (non-specified), some explicit language, reader can’t swim, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description, canon typical violence, reader almost drowns, mention of Jack, Beth never existed in this okay!, mention of hospitals, team calls reader flower as a nickname! let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Your first impression of Aaron Hotchner was at a lecture at your university. Jason Gideon had been leading the BAU and Hotch had just been an agent at the time, but you had been captivated by his intelligence and the way he carried himself. He was so confident and had this strength about him that drew you in. Not in a romantic way though!

At least that’s what you told yourself.

--

Aaron’s first impression of you was when you had been hired onto the team through Director Cruz. Mateo had brought you along with your file and handed you off to Aaron, informing him that you’d be joining the BAU effective immediately.

Initially Aaron was annoyed, this kind of thing hadn’t always worked out in his favor, having agents assigned to his team without his approval but, looking at you and your impressive file, he knew he had to give you a shot.

Glancing over to you he took note of your beauty. It wasn’t the obvious fake filter-like beauty, but something more natural. You had this air of warmth that radiated off of you, it was the type of energy that just made you feel comfortable around someone. He couldn’t help but think that if he’d met you some other way, that maybe he’d have asked you out.

--

Things between you and Aaron had progressed organically. The two of you had grown pretty close, being one another’s confidant within the team. You weren’t together, but the amount of time you two spent together suggested otherwise.

It all happened pretty quickly.

--

“Does Hotch always stay late?” You asked.

“Uh, yeah pretty much.” Emily laughed.

“What about Jack? He doesn’t go home to be with him? I mean…I, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean that to sound judgy, I just meant like doesn’t he want to go home?” You stuttered.

“I’m sure he wants to go home to Jack. His sister-in-law watches Jack when he can’t, but since Strauss died, they gave Hotch a lot of additional responsibilities for this team. Things that Cruz never took back on, so he has nearly double the workload now that he did back then.” Derek explained.

You stood there stunned to silence as the others packed their bags to head home for the evening. You hadn’t even noticed them making their way to the elevator.

“Aren’t you coming?” JJ questioned.

“You know, I just remembered I forgot to get the file for that case we had in Minnesota back to Hotch. He’ll be pissed if I don’t turn it in before our days off.” You lied.

“Do you want us to wait?” Spencer asked.

“No, you guys go ahead! Enjoy your weekend!”

You sat back down at your desk, attempting to make yourself look busy while the other piled into the elevator. Once the doors had closed you made your way up to his office…unable to hear the others…

“She’s got it bad.” Derek teased.

“So does he.” Rossi confirmed.

You gently knocked on his office door and waited for him to permit your entry. Once he did, you pushed the door open slightly and peaked in, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence.

“Oh hey, what are you still doing here? I figured you’d have left with the others.” Aaron let a slight smile slip past his lips.

“I was going to, but you’re still here. It didn’t feel right going home for the weekend while you are still here working your ass off.”

“I’m the boss, I’m always here working my ass off. Head home, enjoy the time off. Seriously.” Aaron suggested.

“How about instead, I do whatever I can to help you get through your work a little faster and I order dinner for us. Would you prefer tacos or Thai food?” You pulled up your maps app to see restaurants that were nearby.

“You should-”

“Don’t even try to argue with me Hotch.” You threatened.

“Tacos.”

“Perfect.”

--

That night you helped Aaron double-check the case reports and cross reference them to make sure they were all filed properly. It allowed him some extra time to complete some administrative work and when your food arrived, the two of you sat and laughed while enjoying your tacos.

--

Garcia, Emily, and JJ were all clutching their temples while chugging down coffee in hopes to alleviate their hangovers.

Spencer and Derek couldn’t help but chuckle at the girls and the fact that they chose to drink far too much last night, knowing full well they’d need to be up early to cheer on their fearless leader as he completed the annual FBI triathlon.

Dave waved to the others notifying them that he could see Aaron coming around the last corner.

“Wait where’s flower at?” Derek asked.

The team looked around to see if they could spot you, knowing that you would never miss this, given how close you and Aaron had become. Dave chuckled to himself and pointed over to where you were standing with Jack on your shoulders as he held up a large glittering sign.

Everyone cheered as Aaron crossed the finish line only, he didn’t stop to greet the team. He made his was straight to you and Jack, he assisted him in getting down off your shoulders and complimented the beautiful poster he had made.

“I had some help!” Jack replied, gently grabbing your hand.

You’d smile and wish Aaron a job well done.

The team would just watch from afar and wonder how the two of you could be so incredibly oblivious to the love you so obviously shared for one another.

--

“Wooo go Jack!” You cheered.

Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle at you, genuinely loving the bond you’d established with his son. It had started when Jack needed to spend a day at the BAU and you’d gone out of your way to get him snacks and print a few coloring pages for him. It had shifted to something deeper than that not long after. Jack would ask if you could come to the park with them or if you could help him with the poster for his dad or, like today for instance, if you could come to his soccer game.

You had packed up a cooler bag full of drinks and snacks for the three of you. Dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, Aaron had never thought you looked better. You’d been so casual and comfortable, and when you hopped in the passenger seat of his car that morning something stirred in Aaron. A feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready to feel again, let alone give in to.

“Did you see that? I made a goal!” Jack hollered running over to your waiting embrace.

“I did buddy, you were incredible out there!” You praised.

“Dad, can we all go get lunch now? And maybe then we can go see the new spiderman movie?” Jack pleaded.

“Oh – bud I don’t, I uh. I’m not sure that’s a good –” Aaron fumbled.

“I would love to, as long as it’s not an imposition.” You smiled.

“It’s not! An imposition, I mean.” Aaron clarified.

“Well then! What do you want for lunch Jack?” You asked.

You’d spent the rest of the day with the Hotchner boys, going to lunch and then seeing a movie. Which led to you offering to make them dinner, and building Legos with Jack, and then a nightcap with Aaron. He’d offered you his guestroom and then to drive you home first thing and given that you were both tipsy…you were quick to agree.

What you hadn’t expected was breakfast. He and Jack had gone all out with chocolate chip pancakes…things were feeling a little too domestic. When had things gotten so comfortable?

--

As the feeling stirred in both you and Aaron, you had begun to notice all the little things you did for one another. Things that had just become natural for you both in the time you’d known each other, second nature at this point.

You always slid sticky notes in your case files before turning them in to him. Sometimes they’d contain a doodle of something silly or a quote you’d read somewhere that made you think of him. What you didn’t know is he saved them all. They were tucked away in the back of his desk drawer, a neat pile of multicolored paper, serving as a reminder of how happy you made him.

Aaron shared similar antics…only his served in the form of your favorite tea, left on your desk each morning before the others arrived so they wouldn’t know it was him placing it there. Though they all had their suspicions anyway. Every once in while…usually after tough cases, or if he knew you hadn’t eaten dinner – which he’d know because you’d fall asleep mid-conversation via text – he’d leave a chocolate croissant…your favorite.

--

Aaron had almost let his feelings slip once. Dave had caught the internal battle that Aaron was facing, he wore it as a pained expression and tense shoulders. Dave had reassured him that you were alright and there was no need to worry, only that didn’t help much. You had gotten hurt, and that only proved that it could happen again. This was a dangerous job full of pain and suffering. Aaron realized he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.

You had been away on a case; the team had found the unsub and were closing in on him. You had rounded a corner in your chase and came face to face with the man you were after, and he had gotten the upper hand. He’d gotten a few good punches in and knocked you on your ass. Aaron had been quick to return the favor once he caught up.

That is when this need to protect you had grown all consuming. Aaron decided then to offer to train with you, in the hope of improving your self-defense skills a little more. And that is where you found yourself on Thursday evenings. Aaron and you would go to the FBI gym and train for about an hour before going to dinner.

This tradition sort of kept going…it sort of progressed from self-defense training to just working out together. An excuse really, an easy way of spending more time together without it looking too suspicious.

--

Dave had pushed Aaron time and time again, practically begging him to ask you out once and for all. To which Aaron always had the same reply; “She doesn’t feel that way about me and even if she did, it wouldn’t be appropriate”.

“You must be blind if you don’t see how much she cares about you. Or perhaps I was wrong about you being such a skilled profiler.” Dave chided.

“Excuse me?” Aaron was stunned.

“She is in love with you Aaron. You’d have to be an idiot to not realize, and even worse to keep yourselves from the happiness you both deserve.” Dave scolded.

Aaron sat with that for some time…wondering if Dave was right. Maybe enough was enough.

--

This case started out fine…but would quickly become both yours and Aaron’s worst nightmare.

This particular unsub had been murdering people with seemingly no connection. Disposing of their bodies at the South Coast Shipyard in Newport Beach, California.

The team had been working for days, trying to catch this guy. He was meticulous and stuck to his MO, not straying from his routine even the slightest. Spencer had suggested that he might have OCD.

That is what led you guys to the shipyard to try and corner him. Catch him in the act. You’d been on edge about being so close to the water…truthfully you’d always been afraid of it. And one night in a drunken stupor, you’d let it slip to Aaron that you’d never learned how to swim.

So, when Derek shouted out that you were FBI and Mathias Edwards took off running, you’d been a little nervous to chase after him. You’d do your job as expected…but there was a sick feeling in your stomach as you sprinted on the creaky dock.

It was just you Derek and Aaron at the docks, you had been checking things out, knowing that he’d likely be scoping out the area to see what boats were docked so he could find his next dumpsite. You hadn’t expected him to be there so early.

The three of you had split up, chasing after Mathias. You, thanks to all the training with Aaron, were quick on your feet, catching up with him quickly. You were running down a long straight on the docks, carefully avoiding any rope or ties holding boats in place when Mathias jumped out from between two boats, shoving you full force backward into the water. You’d immediately screamed, flailing your arms in a desperate attempt to stay above the surface.

Derek had been coming from the other direction and was able to tackle Mathias and was working to get him in cuffs. It wasn’t until Aaron came around that Derek even knew something was wrong.

“Where is she?” Aaron shouted. “Flower, where is she?”

Derek stood up, pulling Mathias to his feet and shoving him in the direction of the SUV. “Mathias pushed her into the water, I figured she’d swim around to the ladder at the end of the dock.”

“She can’t swim!” Aaron panicked, wasting no time jumping in the water to find you.

Moving swiftly, Derek secured the unsub in the SUV before running back to help Aaron get you out of the water. He’d found you quickly dragging you by your arm to the surface and lifting you into Derek’s waiting hands.

He’d checked for your pulse and when he couldn’t feel it, he began chest compressions. Aaron heaved himself out of the water and back on to the dock and pressed his ear to your chest to listen for any kind of breath sounds.

“Go call for a bus!” Aaron commanded.

Aaron took over CPR and leaned down to listen for your heartbeat once more. When he again heard nothing, he attempted mouth-to-mouth. He continued on like this for a few more seconds before you lurched forward, sputtering up the water that had entered your airways. Aaron helped you sit up and pulled you into his embrace.

“Oh, thank God.” Aaron muttered. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

--

You were taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. They wanted to check your vitals and run a few tests to make sure you were alright. Aaron had insisted on riding along with you and held your hand the entire way. He was by your side the whole time.

“You can’t do that to me.” He whispered.

“What?” You rasped.

“You can’t scare me like that sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do if we lost you.” His eyes brimmed with tears.

“The team would be okay.”

“Not them. Me and Jack. We can’t lose you baby. We need you; Jack loves you, hell, I love you too much, I don’t think my heart could take it.” You were both crying now.

“I love you too.”

[mangotiramimisu]

when simon wakes up in a hospital, the last thing you expect is for him to grab your hand, pull you close, and say, “hey, there you are, love.” his voice is so soft, so sure, it leaves you speechless. you stare at him, half in shock, because this is ghost—simon riley, the one person who’s kept every feeling locked up.

“simon, do you… do you remember anything?” you ask, testing the waters.

he blinks, looking at you with confidence. “of course, i remember. you’re my wife.”

you freeze. his wife? this is new, and you’re not sure where he got the idea, but before you can correct him, johnny walks in, taking one look at the two of you and biting back a grin. he leans in, whispering to you, “maybe just… go with it for now, eh?” he’s got that teasing glint in his eye, and something tells you there’s no harm in humoring simon for a bit, if it can be helpful for his recovery.

so, you go along with it. and to your surprise, simon doesn’t act confused—in fact, he’s more open with you than he’s ever been. suddenly, he’s holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, always looking for you, keeping you close, calling you “love” or “darlin’” in front of everyone. he’s even got that soft smile every time you catch his eye, one that makes it hard to remember this isn’t real.

the team’s amused but supportive, playing along with the whole story. simon keeps asking you little things, like what your favorite meal is, or how you usually spend your days when he’s away, as if filling in gaps in a life he believes you share. you find yourself answering with things that feel so genuine, and the way he listens—focused, attentive—feels more intimate than anything you’ve shared before.

one day, you’re patching up a minor scrape on his hand, and he just watches you, eyes soft, like he’s memorizing every detail. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. it’s so genuine, so open, that for a second, you forget it’s all just part of his memory loss.

then, one night, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, eyes serious. “do you ever think about us?” he asks softly, like he’s trying to get at something just out of reach. “how we’d be if things were… different?”

you’re not sure how to answer because there’s no script for this. “sometimes,” you admit, feeling a pang of something deep and unspoken. and for the first time, you’re almost grateful he can’t remember—because maybe, just maybe, it’s the only reason he’s letting himself be this vulnerable with you.

as the days pass, you start catching little glimpses, small things that make you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on. he catches you watching him once, and instead of asking why, he just gives you this little smile, one that feels like he’s in on the secret. and just when you’re starting to think this is all some kind of twisted dream, he pulls you aside.

“i know i’m supposed to remember,” he whispers, “but i don’t want this to end. not yet.”

it’s in that moment you realize the truth. he’s been aware all along—he’s been pretending just as much as you, holding on to this fragile, temporary illusion because, maybe, he needs it just as much as you do.

--------------------------------------------

hii!! i'm backkk!! send some requests plsss, byee <333

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[mangotiramimisu]

Mean!Logan who absolutely will NOT kiss you on the mouth while he’s fucking you. You’re crying and begging and so so desperate for it but he just will not give in, loves to watch you cry and cry even while your whole body shakes and your eyes roll back from how deep he is in you

Logan won't kiss you

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: mean!logan, teasing, dacryphilia, don't like don't read.

a/n: anon i hope you know this made me moan. shit the first line almost had me creaming my jeans. thank you <33333333333

It's a tease, being given so much and yet nothing at all. Logan's strong hips are steadily thrusting against your own, driving his cock in and out of your cunt that begs for nothing more, but you're being held tantalizingly close to the precipice of your orgasm solely from the denial of a kiss.

Logan's mouth is heaven.

Whether against your own or against another part of you, your sensitive nipples or your throbbing pussy, his mouth has always brought you to completion. You yearn for it now, with sharp aches and pleas from your drooling cunt as he fucks into you, but he refuses to give you what you want- what you need.

"What's'a matter?" He drawls, and by the condescension in his voice, by the sharp, rigid smirk on the mouth of his that you want so bad, you know he knows, "What gives, you don't like me or somethin'?"

"Logan," You whine for mercy, tears beading in your eyes as you grip his biceps and attempt to hoist yourself up to kiss him. He deflects skillfully, pushing you back down to the mattress.

"No, no, don't be greedy. My dick isn't enough? Looks like it is." He muses, eyeing the way your cunt slobbers on his length, coating it generously in your thick, slick arousal.

"Look at you, you're ruined," Logan scoffs, panting through the continuous motions of his hips, "And you still want more."

"I want a kiss," You feel pitiful whining like that, and he laughs like you are.

"Oh, princess wants a kiss, is that it? All this cock and what you really want is my mouth?"

"Yes," You gasp, tears flooding down your cheeks at the contempt in his eyes, even if its staged, "Please Logan, please, I jus- I just want one kiss, please." You try yet again to raise your head, but he won't take the bait- he sneers like you're nothing but an annoyance.

"No." He decides simply, hips only snapping faster and faster, harder and harder into your cunt, "You have enough. Use it."

You do. You clench around his cock, thighs squeezed together so that your entrance is as tight as possible. You feel every inch of his impressive length as it pounds in and out of your pussy, you feel pleasure in every fiber of your being, and yet- it's the visual of Logan's tongue flicking out over his lips after a hefty exhale that finally sends your brain and body into overdrive.

His lips, thin and a shade pinker than his skin, look so enticing, and the way that his tongue laves over them leaving translucent saliva behind sends sparks between your legs like nothing you've ever felt without Logan's mouth. You wish it was yours, you wish his tongue was dipping into your mouth the way it does so often, licking every inch of your skin, tasting every part of you there ever has been.

You cum hard and you cum almost painfully, writhing on the bed covered in tears and sweat. There's surely a pool of slick beneath your ass on the bed from where your cunt has drooled onto the sheets but Logan will clean it up later- if you're lucky, from you with the mouth you're still fantasizing about.

"There, that wasn't hard," Logan hums, crooning tenderly like he's taking care of you as he finally dips down to press a firm kiss against the slack ring of your mouth. It's late, but better than never. You exhale shakily as he kisses you, a balm to soothe the hurt feelings of his denial, and he chuckles as you twitch beneath him. He leaves his cock buried in your warm, twitching cunt- he hasn't finished himself, but he'll feed his cock down your throat later- anytime you cum and he doesn't you offer to help him out. Watching the way that your eyes blink hazily at him post-kiss is certainly helping him along, and he won't take long up against the warm wet seal of your mouth.

"Poor thing is sensitive." He nudges his nose against your own, muscles bulging as he keeps himself hovering over you, "Can't handle being used, hm? Gotta be loved?"

"I love you," You whisper pitifully, chasing his mouth with a desperate, sticky kiss of your own, "Logan, I- I love you, mm-"

"Alright, alright." He mumbles through your sloppy attempts at kissing him, muffled by your lips, "Alright, crybaby, 'love you too."

[mangotiramimisu]

I wanna ride him till the end of the night.

[mangotiramimisu]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐈. (warnings. none.)

third person.

He stood, lifting Maria with him, his muscles flexing as he picked her up into his arms. “Good~” He smirked, turning and walking towards a door at the back of the building.

maria.

“So, mister…what do you do for a living?” I asked, as we walked to his car.

“I’m a businessman.” He purred, kissing my neck before opening the door for me. As he slipped behind the wheel, I felt his arm wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against him, my head on his shoulders. His other arm wrapped around the wheel, his hand on my thigh, the touch making me squirm.

“That’s interesting…” I spoke putting my hand on top of his.

My hand brushed his, causing him to shiver slightly. He turned the key, looking to me as he turned the corner. “My love…~” He purred, looking at you with a lustful longing, my heart fluttering at the name. His voice turned my blood to honey, and my legs to jelly.

the next morning.

I felt the sun rays beating my face. Squinting, I turned my head to see the guy from last night. He looked so handsome while he was sleeping, and he knew how to work the bed.

The covers wrapped around his muscular body. He was snoring quietly, one arm still wrapped around me, his head on my shoulder, my body pressed against him.

I frowned softly remembering that I had a husband, was he looking for me? Did he even notice I was gone?

“Good morning, Maria…” The deep voice whispered into my ear, the sleepy words making my heart skip a beat. The man’s warm breath brushed my ear as he spoke, his body shifting to a more comfortable position, the covers sliding down the sides of his body as he looked at me. One arm tightened around me, pulling me closer, the other moving to stroke my hair.

I blushed looking down. “Good morning…”

“You look beautiful this morning, love. Come here~” He spoke softly, his low, smooth, charming voice making my heart flutter.

His free arm wrapped around my shoulder, bringing me closer, his body warm and inviting, a feeling I’d grown to adore.

His eyes were the colour of honey, the gold reflecting in the sunlight as he leaned in, his deep voice filling me with want. “You smell so nice..”

He breathed, placing a light kiss on my forehead, making my heart flutter. “I’m surprised no one else came up to you at the event~” He chuckled, kissing me on the lips, his touch electrifying.

“Thanks..” I spoke smiling at him.

“You’re welcome, Maria… You can call me anything you like~ I’m all yours after last night..” He smirked, looking down at me hungrily, his eyes full of lust as he looked me up and down.

I looked away blushing. I have to tell him about ghost..

“….I have to tell you something..”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He asked softly, his arm tightening around me. “Is it something bad?”His eyes darkened, a slight frown on his handsome face.

“I’m married.”

His expression darkened further, his fingers twitching and gripping my waist tighter. “You’re what?” He hissed, his tone full of anger and disbelief, his eyes narrow.

“It’s a fake marriage, a marriage of convince of you will…” I explained.

He looked away instantly, turning his head and looking at you. “I don’t care what it is… you should’ve told me.” He spat out, his expression blank with anger. “If, by chance, I was actually interested with you, you should know this would destroy me.” He hissed, squeezing my waist before pulling me close in a tight hug, burying his face in my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.” I spoke softly.

His grip softened around me, as did his expression. He turned his head again and looked at me, his tone shifting completely; he was back to being the charming, confident man I’d come to know after our night before. His voice was filled back with the honeyed smoothness I liked, although his face was still a little sad.

“It’s okay, love. That marriage means nothing to you?” He asked gently.

“No, No it doesn’t.”

His face brightened instantly, his expression turning into one of relief. “Thank God…” He breathed, hugging me tightly again.

“If that’s the truth, then how about you call me by my real name?” He smirked, pulling your body flush against his, his voice full of lust and longing.

“What is it?” I spoke softly.

“Call me Isaac.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his fingers stroking my hair.

simon riley x reader

[mangotiramimisu]

thinking about Logan masterbating when readers asleep next to him but she’s pretending because she likes hearing his little whimpers and gasps 🤭

Secrets in the Night

This one’s short, but SPICY 😮‍💨

Rating: M/MDNI

Warning: Male masturbation, secret masturbation

The entire mansion was silent. The only light was the subtle glow coming through the curtains from the nearly-full moon outside. The slight breeze in the air, mixed with the near-complete darkness should make this a more than ideal opportunity to be comfortably asleep without the need for a blanket.

But how could you possibly sleep? You could feel the slightest of movement next to you, accompanied by whimpers and short gasps that you almost had to strain your ears to hear. You didn’t dare move, or give any indication that you were awake. Logan was never one to give himself any attention, always making sure you were taken care of, without ever letting you take care of him. So hearing these sounds falling from his lips, was like heaven as you feigned sleep.

“Fuck” It was almost silent, and there was a short pause after, as if he was waiting to see if you’d wake up from his sudden moan. After you remained asleep, so he thought, a light whimper followed.

You could tell how close he was, as there was less time in between each sound he’d made, and his breathing became heavier. His short gasps became a bit longer, and his whimpers got louder, but you kept up your facade, refusing to miss this moment. A low groan emitted from his chest, your only indication that he must have finished. He quietly panted, before you felt the bed move with his absence as he made his way to the connected bathroom.

You finally turned onto your side, placing your arm in the now empty space of the bed, to make him think you’d woke up from his absence.

“Lo?” You called out, despite knowing where he’d gone.

“Just a sec, bub, I’ll be right there” He replied. Sure enough, he returned to bed shortly, lifting your arm to lay underneath it, allowing you to lay your head against his chest with your arm draped over him.

“M’sorry I woke you” He spoke quietly, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Don’t be, I’ve been awake for a while” You teased, as your hand ran up and down his chest. You felt him sigh, and looked up just in time to catch the slight red tint to his cheeks before he laid his arm across his face.

“How much did you hear?” He asked, obviously embarrassed.

“Only everything” You laughed lightly, pushing his arm away to place short, soft kisses to his lips, then to his temple, as he turned to look into your eyes.

“Next time, maybe you should wake up and give me a hand”

[mangotiramimisu]

First Earrings

Paring(s): Derek Morgan x baby! Reader, Michelle Morgan x baby! Reader

Genre: Cute, fluffy, comfort for daddy issues ✌️

Warning(s): baby crying, needle gun, piercing ears at a young age, daddy Derek

Word bank: Y/N- your name

It was an unusually quiet day, one that seemed destined for something special. Derek sat comfortably in a cozy chair, holding his second little one, his precious baby girl, Y/N, tenderly on his lap. She was just a baby, her wide eyes filled with innocent curiosity as she observed the world around her.

Today was unique- Michelle had decided it was time for Y/N to get her very first earrings.

Derek wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea. Though he was a tough FBI agent, he was incredibly soft-hearted when it came to his family and close friends. More specifically, Y/N.

The thought of his baby girl experiencing even a small amount of discomfort made me uneasy. Nevertheless, he knew it was important for his wife, so he agreed but with some hesitation.

As the women approached with the earrings, she offered a warm, reassuring smile. But Y/N sensed something was different. The tense in the air. Derek, noticing her apprehension, held her head gently but securely in his big, strong hands, his touch full of affection as he tried to keep his baby calm.

When the women cleaned Y/N's tiny earlobes, she let out a soft whimper, the unfamiliar sensation making her squirm a bit. Then came the big moment. With swift motion, the women used the ear-piercing gun, its spring-loaded mechanism causing a sudden sharp pain as it pierced her ear. Y/N was frozen for a few seconds before she started to cry loudly, the sting was too much for her small mind.

Derek's heart ached as he saw her tiny face scrunch up in distress. He immediately began whispering soothing words to her, his voice gentle and comforting. But there was still one more ear to go.

As soon as the second earring was in place, Derek quickly stood up, holding his girl close to his chest. He could feel her tiny body trembling with sobs, and it hurt him more than case could. He began to walk away from the scene, cradling Y/N securely in his arms, his voice as gentle as a lullaby as he tried to calm her cries.

"It's alright, baby... It's all done now" He whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He held her tightly, walking back and forth, rocking his little girl gently until her cries subsided.

[mangotiramimisu]

me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

[mangotiramimisu]

dark blue.

tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: you're finn's girlfriend- and you've always received the same question, what's a good girl like you doing with a boy like him? funnily enough, his older brother thomas wonders the same thing.

includes: SMUT 18+, dom/sub dynamics, age-gap (tommy is in his early 40s, reader early 20s, though it isn't specified), innocence kink/corruption kink, cheating, daddy kink, oral (male rec), throat fucking, cum-eating, based on this ask here

a/n: feedback is always very much appreciated!! <3

⋆✰

“What’s a good girl like you doin’ with a boy like Finn, eh?”

It was a common saying you'd get from various people over the few months that you'd been seeing a certain Finn Shelby-- you were used to it, the constant stares of disbelief that someone like you, someone so sweet, with pretty dresses and full of radiance would want anything to do with an up-and-coming gangster.

It was love, at least that's what you told yourself.

So after hearing that certain question so many times without batting an eyelid, why did it sound so different when it came from him?

Thomas Shelby. Your boyfriend's older brother. All stoic and dressed to impress and intimidate, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth like always, smoking on it without a care in the world whether he was allowed to in a house like yours or not.

He had surprised you, scared the wits out of you-- you were alone in the comfort of your bedroom, sitting at your vanity doing your nightly routine before he had shown up. You hadn't a clue how he'd gotten in, and he was smug about it, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a big indicator.

You stood up, smoothing down your nightgown when it clung to the thickness of your thighs and attempted to make eye contact and stutter out a few words.

"M-Mr Shelby," you breathed, fiddling with your hands when you clasped them in front of you. "What're you doing here?"

Tommy's eyes flicked around your room, taking note of your white walls and plush, pink duvet-- the trinkets scattered along your room all cutesy and girly. Just like you and your stupid nightgown, he thought.

"Came here to properly introduce myself," he spoke, inhaling another drag and exhaling the harsh smoke in your direction.

"But we've already met," your brows furrowed, cocking your head to the side impishly and unsure. "It was the other day, don't you remember?"

"I do," he flicked his tongue over his lips to moisten them, eyes still fixated on you. "but that was far too formal, don't you think, sweetheart?"

An unusual shiver ran along your spine-- sweetheart, you liked the way it sounded, the way he said it. Finn never called you sweetheart.

You nodded, in a foggy daze, staring at him with a somewhat dumb expression on your face.

Tommy cleared his throat and you quickly shook yourself out of your strange stupor.

"Aren't y'gonna invite me to sit?" he asked, eyebrows raised, waiting. "that's what polite girls do, isn't it?"

You were quick to nod your head, pulling out your vanity chair and inviting him to sit, just like he had asked. He sat down, the contrast of his dark exterior with your pretty pink belongings had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach-- a sense that he didn't belong there, but the thrumming between your thighs was obvious that you liked him being there, amongst you, amongst your things.

He stubbed his cigarette out in a little jewellery dish that sat upon your vanity, heart-shaped and porcelain, now covered in grey, smoking ash. You knew better than to chastise him for it.

"You didn't answer my question," he muttered, clasping his hands in front of him, though differently to you, it was in confidence, to intimidate.

You thought about it. Why were you with Finn?

"W-We're in love, sir," you stuttered, not meeting his gaze, your cheeks were on fire.

"You don't look too sure about that, sweetheart," there it was again, that name, a single term going straight to your core, a surge of wetness saturating the cotton of your underwear. "Has he fucked you yet?"

You coughed on your own spit, eyes bulging out of their sockets at his crude question.

"Pardon?" you breathed, exasperated.

His reply was simple.

"You heard me."

"I don't believe that's any of your concern-" he was quick to interject, eyes swarming and dark, consuming you, leaving you to hang your head and cower.

"Finn's my brother," he spoke, "I have the right to know what he gets up to, and I don't want him corrupting a good girl like you just because he thinks he's in love."

You flushed at his words and you decided to answer his previous question, no matter how inappropriate.

"We haven't," your words were soft, quiet, he almost had trouble hearing you.

"Haven't what?" he hid his smirk, he already had you wrapped around his little finger, it was too easy.

"Had sex," you muttered, cheeks searing at your confession.

“Do you want to?” He asked, you stiffened, lashes fluttering and lips opening and closing like a poor fish out of water.

“M-maybe…”

“Come here,” Tommy patted his thigh, signalling you to come closer, to stand between his spread legs and have him look at you much closer. You did as he asked, you were a good girl after all.

“Do you want me to show you what it’s like?” He cooed all condescending and mocking, “Do you want me to show you what big, bad men do to little girls like you?”

“Mr Shelby, what about Finn?” His eyes darkened at the mere mention of his youngest brother.

“Fuck Finn,” he spoke slowly, “you forget about him when I’m talking to you, you understand me?”

You nodded, resting your hands against his shoulders to steady you when he tugged you closer by the frills of your nightgown.

“Yes, Mr Shelby,”

“No, no, none of that,” he shook his head, hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing against your soft, covered skin. “You address me properly.”

You searched your mind for the right term, brows furrowing and lips pouting, trying to think what on earth he wanted you to address him by.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he chuckled, bringing his thumb and forefinger to grip your chin, tugging it from side to side. “I’m your daddy now, isn’t that right?”

You whined, unable to control it, rubbing your thighs together, your walls collapsing and letting your submissive nature come to the forefront.

Thomas Shelby was the devil himself, you were sure— and he was your daddy. Finn had disappeared from your mind completely.

“Yes,” you sighed, all dreamily and cute, leaning into his touch, “yes, daddy.”

His plump lips curved up into a smirk, palm patting at your cheek as if you were a dog, eager for praise-- and you realised that wasn't too far from the truth; just a bitch in heat, eager and ready for her first breeding.

You stared at him, dumbified from those cornflower irises of his, almost hypnotizing, and you were sure you'd comply with anything he'd ask of you.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tommy could practically see the gears shifting beneath your skull and he raised his brows when you stuttered, a silent 'I'm waiting' when you took far too long to answer him.

"C-Can I have a kiss?" you spoke shyly, thumbing the expensive cotton of his crisp shirt, growing impossibly warmer and not just because of the close proximity. "please?"

You made sure to add your plea, keeping your manners intact, giving him something to be proud of you for.

So innocent, he thought, you really were such a good girl-- something he thought was all just an act to get what you wanted, however with the way you stumbled over your words and fluttered your lashes, more eager for a kiss than anything else- anything more.

Yeah, that was no act.

Tommy fought the smile that ticked at his lips, using his fingers to tip your chin, tugging you closer, closer, closer, until you were a hair's width away. You could feel his lips brush against the skin of your cheek, gently, so uncharacteristic, you didn't think that a man of his status and power could be so sweet on someone.

Though, of course, that's what Tommy Shelby wanted you to think, he wanted you to succumb to the desires that he caused, take you and defile you and leave you wanting no man other than himself. He craved the power imbalance, the sick need to corrupt young, naive little girls like yourself.

Tommy Shelby was not sweet. He was worlds apart from that.

The soft feeling of his lips grew nearer, to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, before pecking your lips-- a small spongy kiss, capable of urging a little whine to escape your throat.

He kissed you again, slotting your mouths together, locking your lips one over the other, deepening the kiss and it quickly became heated. Swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, he didn't have the patience to wait for you to open up, instead forcing his prodding tongue inside your mouth, crudely swiping it against yours, sucking it between his lips before running it along the ridges of your teeth.

You didn't think kissing could feel so dirty, so unhinged, but you were rather ashamed to say you liked it. The way his callused hands trailed from your hips to your neck, all the way back down just to take a handful of your behind, squeezing the doughy globes roughly and playing with them as if you were a mere toy.

Tommy pulled away, a long, silver line of spit keeping your lips connected, only breaking apart when he began to speak, pushing at your shoulders and urging you to the carpet.

"On your knees," his voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, clearly affected by you, by your innocence more like. "gonna teach you how to keep men like me happy."

You instantly obeyed, dropping to your knees and sitting on your haunches, practically purring when he cupped and stroked your cheek.

He eyed you from below him, perched in the space between his knees and he spread them further to let you shuffle closer, your hands on his thighs.

"You're a good little pet, aren't you?" he cooed, swiping his thumb along your chin, "such a good listener, eh?"

You beamed up at him, leaning into his touch and nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes, Daddy," a little giggle pushed past your lips, "for you."

"That's right," he hummed, "just f'me."

You had an idea of what he wanted you to do and you fiddled with his belt in anticipation for his next command.

"You're gonna learn how to properly suck cock," he spoke, "and y'gonna do a fucking good job of it."

Your mouth watered at the prospect of having his cock on your tongue. You sighed dreamily.

"And once I've taught ya, that's gonna be your job from now on-- gonna ease daddy's stress whenever he needs you to."

You nodded, cheeks searing.

"Yes, sir- I'll do anything f'you."

He had you where he wanted you, compliant and ready to yield at his every command. It was too fucking easy, he almost wanted to laugh at your naivety, how unaffected you were by the idea of having another man's cock down your throat, your own boyfriend's brother in fact and Finn hadn't even crossed your mind. Poor, poor Finn, always second best when it came to being compared to Tommy.

You may have been a good girl and did as the older man said, but you were still a whore at heart. His little harlot.

"Come on then, sweetheart, I haven't got all day," he chastised, cocking his head down to his belt that you hadn't unbuckled yet. You had so much left to learn.

You fumbled with the leather that encircled his waist, pulling it through the silver buckle and from the loops before unzipping his fly and pulling his tailored trousers down as far as you could to his thighs.

The bulge in his briefs was prominent and your mouth salivated at the sight, your natural reaction to a sight so delectable, your first cock to suck and it was so big too, you wondered how you'd be able to take him without choking on him. But where was the fun if you weren't?

Your instincts told you to reach out and grab it, so you did just that, palming him through his underwear and feeling the warmth of his shaft jolt and throb against your grip, already hard and you swore you noticed a little wet spot saturating the fabric-- a trick of the light, you thought.

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, giving you a pointed look, eyebrow raised.

"I'm not 'ere to get teased," he huffed, as if his cock wasn't jumping at the touch of your hand. He took a handful of your hair, tugging it and making your scalp burn. "come on, take it out and get to work."

Your fingers curled under the elastic of his briefs, pulling the fabric down to rest where his trousers were, and the sight had you gawking, eyes as wide as saucers as you took in his pretty appendage.

So thick, littered with blue veins, the colour much akin to the blue of his eyes and you swallowed down all the saliva that pooled under your tongue. His tip was a pretty shade of tan, glistening with beads of pre-cum, slapping against his stomach every time he throbbed.

"I didn't know they could be this pretty," you marvelled, taking hold of it and delicately running your fingers up each prominent vein. Tommy cleared his throat at your unexpected praise, the grip on your hair a lot softer than before, instead of tugging on it, he petted it down softly, watching you watch him.

"Put me in your mouth, darling," you smiled up at him teasingly pouting up at him.

"So impatient," you teased, your confidence rising, before you tightened your grip, puckering your lips around his tip, sucking it as if he were one of your favourite lollipops.

You took him out of your mouth with a soft pop, just to reattach yourself to him, lathering your tongue over his sensitive head, the somewhat salty taste igniting your tastebuds and you hummed around him.

"There y'go, you can take more than that," you hollowed your cheeks at his words, going lower, taking him deeper and slowly you started to bob your head up and down, moaning at his taste and thickness on your tongue.

With a particularly harsh downward thrust of your head, he reached the back of your throat, instantly causing you to gag and you pulled off him, whining and sniffling with tears ebbing over your waterline.

"Good girl," he cooed breathlessly, chest heaving and palms cradling your face, hushing and settling you when you continued to whine out. "Doin' so well, got me a little whore in the making, hm?"

He pushed you back onto his cock, guiding you down, down, down until you were gagging once again, though this time you didn't pull off of him, you couldn't, not with the strength he was using to hold and keep your head down. Your nose brushed against the course thatch of hair that littered his pelvis and you tried to resist gagging at the stupidly large intrusion by breathing steadily through your nose.

You wanted so badly to rise for air, to ease the soreness that started to buzz in your throat, but although this was your first time, a true beginner, he still treated you like one of his most proficient whores. Coughing and spluttering, drool started to slip from your mouth and down your chin, so messy and slick, dripping down the length of your neck, saturating your pink nightgown and settling in the space between your tits.

"Fuck," he groaned, "gonna fuck this little virgin throat, gonna make you choke- doesn't that sound good, sweet girl?"

With the way you sobbed and moaned around him, he took it as a yes, keeping a good, firm grip upon your tresses to bob you up and down as he pleased, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth in the middle.

You grew light-headed, crude, sloppy sounds filling the air along with your constant gags and you quickly slapped at his thigh, urging him to let you up, to go easy on you and let you catch your breath. He didn't stop, however, didn't even slow down, purposeful in messing with you and teaching you that he was in charge-- he would decide whether you needed to breathe or not.

He chuckled at your vulnerability, stopping his thrusts to to sheath himself deep down your throat and keep you still, just the feeling of you gagging around his shaft was enough to stimulate him.

Eventually, he let you up for breath, marvelling at how you coughed and struggled to catch your breath, your throat feeling entirely abused and sore each time you swallowed. His pretty cock jolted at the sight of you, so messy and whoreish, hair tangled and spit dribbling down your chin.

"Breathe, darling," he cooed, cupping your tear-stained cheeks between his rough palms and pouting at you mockingly, pressing a rather condescending peck to your forehead. "Bein' so good-- almost done, sweetheart, just gotta make daddy cum and then you can rest that lovely throat of yours."

You breathed shakily, settling down on your haunches again and grabbing his slick cock in your grasp.

"Okay, Daddy," you sniffled, such a sweet girl, even with a cock in your hand.

Tommy guided you down, conducting your movements with a thrust and push to your head, keeping you pliant and submerging himself within you, and if your throat felt this good his head reeled at the thought of your pussy-- so tight and virginal, untouched, not even by your curious little fingers.

He'd have all of you soon enough.

You could see his stomach muscles clenching, thighs flexing from under your palms and you hummed around him when you noticed his thrusts growing sloppier.

"Fuck," Tommy groaned, breaths haphazard and shaky, "you ready, sweet girl? You ready to taste Daddy's cum? Y'gonna swallow it all, aren't you, otherwise m'gonna have to force feed it down that pretty throat."

You stared up at him as best as you could, fluttering your lashes, tears spilling and clouding your vision, though you blinked them away, eager to see him, to see the way his face would contort, how beautiful he'd look whilst shooting cum inside your mouth.

One, two, three more thrusts were all it took for him to start convulsing, cock jolting on your tongue and spilling his seed, coating the walls of your constricting throat. He was groaning, moaning out loud, sounds so pretty you had to keep your thighs clenched tight.

"Shit- good girl, such a good little whore, you are."

He continued to ride his orgasm out, until he grew far too over-sensitive, pulling himself out of your mouth and lifting your head up, spent and eyes hooded watching you swallow his seed and hum at the newfound taste-- something you already found yourself becoming addicted to.

"Look," you beamed, still teary-eyed and shaky on your knees, you opened your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue for him to marvel at, completely clean of all traces of his cum, now deep in your belly. "swallowed it all, daddy- just like you said."

Tommy's head started to spin, praising you at how good you had been though he felt strange, heart thumping in his chest at the mere sight of you, he felt soft, a small smile on his face without realising.

He thought you were wrapped tightly around his finger, however he had begun to realise in such a short time it was the complete opposite way around.