#and the desk is so small that her elbow is touching his

[blood-smiles]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 💌

You organized various assortments of products on shelves, placing each product perfectly, the name of the item fully on display,

While stepping back to admire your work you heard the squeaky shoes of a little kid, suddenly a small body crashed into your side and landed on the floor with a sickening crack,

“Jimmy! Jimmy! Oh my god! JIMMY!” The frantic voice of a woman called out, you instantly turned around, seeing the little boy wailing on the ground, his arm twisted in an uncomfortable direction,

You crouched down next to the child, trying to get him to calm down as you inspected his arm,

The same woman ran in your direction and pushed you off her child with a rough shove, tears welling up in her eyes,

“YOU! YOU DID THIS TO MY CHILD!” She shrieked, holding the kid in her arms,

“I-I ma’am! I swear it’s not that, your child was running and crashed into—“ 

“I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT! I AM GOING TO SUE YOU FOR THIS!” She screamed at you, her spit landing on your face as you stepped back,

A burning pain splattered all over your face, the woman’s purse making a harsh contact with your nose bridge, 

Small red droplets dirtied your white uniform polo shirt, 

She scooped up the injured boy in her arms and ran outside the store, yelling profanities and curses at you,

Suddenly a loud crash was heard as the woman kicked the large shelves, causing the tall shelves to come down on you, one by one alike to dominos,

You can’t remember what happened next, as you woke up in a hospital.

So. You have a huge law suit over your head now, a metaphorical guillotine over your neck, just waiting to be brought down on you, decapitating you and your clean record,

You stood in the waiting room, the fresh smell of floor cleaner wafting into your nostrils, helping you distract yourself momentarily,

“Mx (Y/N)?” A deep voice rings out, pulling you back into reality,

You glance up at the source of the voice, your (e/c) meeting with scarlet red hues, sharp eyes encased behind glasses,

You slowly got up, using your crutches to stabilize your footing, the man waited for you, his eyes inspecting your form as if calculating your every move, he stared at you for longer than needed but you ignored his eyes and kept acting as if nothing was happening,

He politely opened the door for you, giving you enough room to limp inside the office, after you successfully sat down, the man stood in front of his desk,

His ruby eyes were drilling into your own, as if memorizing every single detail of your iris, you looked into his eyes too, trying to seem confident,

If you looked close enough you could see the slight color difference under his eyes, you recognized that gaze— of exhaustion and pulling all nighters, but he did do a good job minimizing the eye bags!

You didn’t get to look at him properly but he was very well dressed.. the classic black vest along with black dress pants and a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms,

Pretty purple hair gathered at the back of his head in a ponytail, two tresses framed the sides of his face, bringing more attention to his sharp features, he was attractive.. Very attractive.

After another round of continuous staring the male finally cleared his throat, breaking the suffocating tension in the room,

“I am Alejandro Ortega, your defense in the court.” He stated clearly, sticking his hand out, asking for a hand shake,

“Oh. I’m (Y/N), thank you for your time sir.” You politely stretched out your arm and gently shook his hand,

His larger one enveloped your own hand, giving you a steady and firm handshake, slightly squeezing your hand in his,

His touch lingered, hand still tightly held around yours, he stared into your eyes, unwilling to let go,

You half smiled, trying to pull your hand away from his, slightly becoming unsettled when he didn’t let go,

He coughed, letting go of your hand and sitting down on his own chair,

He crossed his legs under the desk, taking out a paper and a pen, tapping the opposite side of the tip on the paper sheet, he discussed with you the phases of how he was planning to defend you in this case, giving you a bit of a background check on him,

“Well then, please tell me how everything happened, miss (Y/N).” 

You started retelling the events of the store, your hands coming in play and moving around to emphasize your actions and feelings,

A soft smile bloomed on the man’s face, sometimes even chuckling quietly at your exaggerated gestures,

Alejandro liked—No, adored your company, you were so charismatic and lively, your energy was so contagious that even his hard exterior had began to show cracks,

The buzzing in his chest wouldn’t stop, his hands were sweaty and his face felt warm, just what was this feeling? He is supposed to maintain a poker face and not show any favoritism with his clients.. Oh but you.. he couldn’t help but show contentment around you,

Unfortunately you soon had to go home and rest, he felt truly pity for you, being all bruised up and injured— on top of that you were in the process of being sued, 

Such a sweet soul you have, he would make sure that you would be well protected under him, he would hate to see you in harms way,

Alejandro finished helping the janitors cleaning up, he waved everyone off as they left, with suitcase in hand he leaned against the wall,

Ever since your appointment with him he couldn’t stop thinking of your face and voice, perhaps he could use your files for some.. private research.

He opened the doors of his home, his wife, Ume, peeked into the hallway as if already knowing it was him who entered the manor,

Her long white hair flowed behind her as she sped walked towards him, she brushed her bangs out of her beautiful face as she approached him,

“Honey! Did you get off work early?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a loving peck on his lips,

Alejandro grunted in response, peeling her arms off his shoulders and neck, he despised physical contact from Ume, he hated her voice, to him it sounded like nails scratching against a chalkboard, it irritated him, greatly so.

Ume was not at fault, for she had done no wrong to him, she was what any man would wish for, she was obedient, beautiful, loving and skilled in every aspect,

He just hated the intent behind his marriage with her, ever since he had slipped out of his mothers womb and brought into this world he had no control over his life, for it had been decided for him,

What he was going to be, who he was going to marry, where he was going to study, who his relationships were and even how he should feel,

He had no control over his life, he had never had any control over his own livelihood, his parents had controlled him even beyond the grave,

He hated his life. He hated Ume. He hated his parents. He cherishes you. He hated everything but you.

You had brought excitement to his life somehow, you came into his office and sparked something in him with your attitude and personality,

Maybe his life wasn’t so bad.

He stared at the knives in his kitchen, his hand itching to find something— someone to slice into ribbons with the sheening blade of the knife,

When did he become so violent? Was he this savage all along?

He shook his head lightly, taking off his glasses momentarily as he cooked dinner for his self and Ume,

He flipped the chicken and rice in two plates, as he brought the food and placed it down on the long hall table,

Ume awed at the perfectly cooked food, she dug in immediately, complimenting him and his cooking skills every time she spooned food into her mouth,

Alejandro subconsciously clutched a napkin in his hand, his knuckles turning a ghost white from sheer force,

“..Thank you” he muttered, his hand shakily cutting off some chicken and inserting it into his mouth,

His mind wandered off to your beautiful eyes, those beautiful (e/c) gems twinkling under light enamored him so much..

Alejandro noticed how your eyes would wander off sometimes, looking at him intently, as if you were listening to the most interesting thing in the world, it just made him feel so bashful..

How long had it been since he had seen you? 5 hours? 5 days? 5 years? God, he can’t remember anymore, just being away from you felt like an eternity, it was driving him insane..

Maybe next time the both of you meet you can go out for a drink together.. he smiled a little at that, perhaps he could invite you to a garden and talk to each other and learn more about you..

“Dear? What are you smiling at?” The gratingly annoying voice of his wife chimed in, anger rose inside him, taking most of his willpower to keep a calm mind and most importantly of all not to lash out at her,

“It’s none of your concern, Ume.” He answered coldly, glaring at her, a small vein sprawling across his temple in irritation,

She looked taken aback by her husband snapping at her, her smooth caramel tinted skin draining of color, her wonder turning into a fear in a flash,

Just as she was going to open her mouth to apologize Alejandro cut her off, 

“—I’m going to go take a shower, I’m finished with my diner, wash the dishes please.” He instructed as he left but not before giving her a pointed look,

Alejandro shut the bedroom door behind him, huffing as he sat on his and Ume’s shared bed

Ume wouldn’t understand, she would break down if she ever found out he had developed romantic feelings for someone else,

As soon as he makes developments in yours and his relationship he will make sure to get divorce papers signed immediately,

He wouldn’t want you to think he was unfaithful, because he isn’t.

His marriage never worked out anyway, he can only imagine the beautiful domestic life you would have with him,

He wouldn’t have to come into office, he could be your stay at home husband! He knows how to cook, clean and overall good spouse.. He spent most of his childhood honing these skills by taking care of his little sister,

He simply goes into work to avoid having to see his insufferable wife, even a minute away from her made his life expectancy slightly increase,

He opened the water, staring at his reflection before stepping into the shower,

Cold water ran from the shower head, landing refreshingly on the tall males’ back and body,

He sighed, relaxation seeping into his body slowly and steadily, he leaned his body weight onto his forearms,

His forehead rested on the cool shower walls, cleansing his thoughts for just a moment, his long hair stuck to his forehead and shoulders as water slipped off in small droplets,

 as hard as he tried he couldn’t fend away certain thoughts, all of them being of You. You. You. Ý̵̯͙̰̾Ô̸̱͉̖̣̾͝Ú̷͎͍.

Look at what you have reduced him to.. A lovesick fool.. craving nothing more than you— It has only been five days, yet you live in his brain and heart like maggots, digging deeper and deeper into him..

Yet he didn’t care, he would allow you to do so because he knew that he secretly liked it, he liked having someone to obsess over and follow like a lovesick puppy,

he had been saving his love for too long, and now it seems that you pulled the trigger on his heart, for this dangerous love ridden russian roulette has just started.

He now understands why he suffered for so many years, he sees now that it was all for you, it seems that god has gotten tired of torturing him and sent you, as his savior— his light.

If he knew things would come to this he would have chosen to suffer again and again, continuing what appeared to be an endless cycle just to be able to meet you and reach zenith.

He is holding his heart in his hands for you, it was you awakened feelings he never thought were real, now assume the consequences of your actions, won’t you, love?

Ume stalked the halls of the huge mansion, her heart feeling heavy after she upset her beloved husband,

She smoothened down her dress as she shakily opened the bedroom door, seeing that the room was empty she sat down on the bed,

Staring at the bedroom door longingly she decided to slightly peek through a crack in the doorway,

The water landed against the shower floor, helping muffle out the small whimpers and moans that were heard from Alejandro,

His hand fisted his cock rapidly, his hips bucking into his soft hand to feel some kind of friction, the sound of his hand clapping against his skin being audible even with the drizzling water ambients,

Ume’s eyes widened, never had she though her husband could ever make such.. Sinful sounds, it seemed he was saying something between the strangled sounds of pleasure..

“—N).. (Y/N).. Mmph! (Y/N), please..” 

(Y/N)? Who was this (Y/N)? Why was her husband saying that name? Was he cheating on her?

Her green eyes zeroed in on his body, watching as his back would arch and tremble whenever he would get close to climax,

Ume had tried a handful of times to get some kind of intimacy going on with Alejandro, going as far as getting some.. Aphrodisiac products, however it seemed that even under the influence of such hard core drugs he would rather deal with it himself than come close to her,

His free hand roamed his body, soon reaching up against his chest and starting to play with the soft muscle, 

Delivering soft and hard squeezes, soft groans muddled with mutters of “I love you”s slipped out of his lips,

Dampened hair fell over his eyes as he pressed his cheek against his shoulder, gentle sobs mixed with the sound of water running,

His thrusts slowed down as his thighs pressed together, with a final cry of your name the knot in his stomach came undone,

Loads and loads of white semen painted a section of the tiled shower walls, he kept thrusting into the air, riding out his high.

Ume closed the door quietly, sitting on the bed she placed her hands over her face, her well manicured nails digging into the sides of her soft face,

Whoever this.. (Y/N) was she was going to speak to, and it’s not going to be pretty.

Alejandro was her husband, hers only, and she was willing to fight tooth and nail for him,

The bathroom door opened, showing the ruby eyed man walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist, delicate beads of water dripping off his hair and rolling down his skin abdomen,

“Is there something wrong?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrow, eyeing her down menacingly,

The pretty woman but her lips while smiling, kicking off her shoes and spreading her legs open, an idea popping into her head

“Well.. perhaps, I’m feeling awfully.. Hot down there, help me will you?”

It had been 3 months precisely, it was your court date, you dressed up as best as you could afford, brushing your hair neatly and ironing your clothes to perfection,

You arrived early, looking at the huge court with furrowed brows and crudely covered dark circles, you weren’t able to get a wink of sleep last night,

Your mind couldn’t stop thinking of all the worst possible scenarios— What If you lost and went to jail? What if you were forced to sleep with a crazy cell mate? Sentenced to death? Having to use forks as hair brushes for the end of your days?!

A hand gently fell on your head, softly caressing your hair, you met scarlet eyes, beautiful eyes, the same shade as blood,

“Everything is going to be alright, I can assure you that, so please don’t worry your pretty little head over whatever you are thinking, will you promise me that?” You knew that voice, that was your lawyers voice, it was always so soothing to you, never was his voice rough or hoarse, it was always so warm and gentle..

You nodded, your worries calming down slightly, you weren’t expecting it but it sure was meaningful to you, you knew he was very.. Stoic most of the time, you liked to think he might have a soft spot for you, although the probability of that is probably non existent, oh how you were so so wrong.

The both of you entered the court, you were sweating buckets of sweat, pulling at your collar once in a while to try and freshen yourself up,

“Defendants please rise.” The judge called out, her voice strong and authoritative,

The both of you stood up, you were so nervous in the moment that you totally ignored Alejandro’s hand clasped around yours, his fingers intertwined tightly in between yours,

Alejandro was right, he was good, good was a massive understatement, he got evidence from places you didn’t even recognize, you had no idea if some of the documents had been falsified or not due to how legit they looked,

By the end of court you weren’t the one in cuffs, but the mother of the little boy, who had been taken into custody,

She yelled profanities at you, kicking and screaming at the police men to let her go,

Alejandro stood in front of you protectively, eyes narrowed into a glare, gaze as sharp as knives and glass shards,

You were so happy and relieved, weight had been lifted off your shoulders, you felt as if you were going to cry or happiness,

Your chest felt light as you hugged Alejandro, thanking him a million times over and over,

Had you overstepped boundaries? Maybe, Would Alejandro normally flip out and do something unseemly? If you were someone else, yes.

But it’s you, how could he deny you of something he had been wanting to do for a long time? How? So he wasn’t.

He deserved this too, he had gone through so much trouble to fake so much evidence to get that dirty bitch in jail, and you were willingly giving him his reward,

He basically threw himself on you, his arms over your head, he adjusted your arms on his waist, letting you hug him as close as you desired,

His face was close to your hair— so so close to you, he just had to smell you, just one second, please please please please please please.

He breathed in your scent, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head, you smelled so good, he knew his wife was in the audience but he couldn’t give less of a fuck,

Let her watch, let her see how he loved you so much more, he didn’t care anymore, he wasn’t going to hide it anymore, because it was true he had become so intimately infatuated with you he couldn’t even stand being a moment without you,

He had all he ever wanted right in his arms, and he didn’t care what he had to do to make you his, 

He didn’t care if he had to frame innocent people over and over again, he didn’t care if he had to make shady deals with hackers or mafia men, he will do crazy shit and get away with it!

If he had to let the world burn for you he would turn the world ablaze until only ash and cinder was left, only to light it on fire again over and over just to prove how much he loved you.

His eyes met his “wife”’s emerald like gaze, her eyes shining under light with jealousy, he knew she wanted to tear the both of you apart,

But he wouldn’t let her, as he would be the one ripping her to shreds this time around,

He will do anything and he means everything for you. 

He would do it all in your name. ♡

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Jam, now do NOT talk about young Ze not being able to concentrate in class if they were in one because i will immediately want a fic like this🥲

Don't tempt me, anon. Don't tempt me. 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

[luveline]

how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket. 

Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god." 

"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself." 

"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you. 

You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal. 

Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour. 

Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's. 

What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse. 

Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile. 

"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.

Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents." 

"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers." 

"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card." 

You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille. 

Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking." 

From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.

No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing. 

Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious. 

Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.

"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically. 

That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour. 

"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that." 

You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start." 

Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"

The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."

"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe." 

[moonstruckme]

Hey queen what about a lil fic of reader with one of the boys (u can pick whoever!!) where it's her first healthy relationship and May be she thanks them for being nice and he's just like ummm I don't wanna be mean to u

Thanks for requesting lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You have a habit of complaining into the void. It’s not the first text you send James griping about your day at work and it likely won’t be the last, but you’re surprised when the result is him turning up at your desk with flowers and a coffee. 

“James,” you say dumbly, looking up in absolute astoundment as he sets the flowers carefully by your keyboard and bends down for a kiss. 

“Hi, angel.” James presses the coffee into your hand. Spots the empty desk next to yours and, with a quick glance around, steals the chair, sitting beside you. “Are you still on your lunch break?” 

“I—yeah.” Your brain can’t quite make sense of him at your work. It’s like being a kid and seeing your teacher at the store. James, with his casual clothes and easy smile, doesn’t belong in this place. “I’ve got twenty minutes left. What are you doing here?” 

“You seemed like you were having a rough morning,” he says simply. “I thought I might see if I could come and make you feel a bit better—don’t worry, I brought supplies.” 

He shrugs out of one strap of his backpack, swinging it around onto his lap and pulling out a small vase. James seems too distracted to have noticed your stupefaction. 

“Do you have a sink around here?” 

You point him towards the break room and he hurries off, returning a minute later to arrange your flowers in the vase. 

“I know it might be silly,” he says, as he works with a care that belies his words, “but I was thinking that if I was stuck in one place all day, it might help me to have something nice to look at. I considered getting you a mirror, but I thought you may have grown used to that particular sight so I ought to mix it up.”

James glances up to catch your reaction to the last bit, dimples appearing when you fluster. As he sits back down, his gaze roams your workspace, largely empty as most of your coworkers have gone to lunch. He swivels the chair from side to side absentmindedly, his knees brushing yours with each pass. It feels like someone striking a match. 

“I didn’t know you had so few windows in here.” He blows out a breath. “We should hit a park or something after you’re off tonight, get you some time in the sun.” 

“That sounds nice,” you say, lifting the coffee in your hand to your lips reflexively. 

It’s not until you register the taste that you think to look at the logo on the cup. It’s from your favorite coffee shop, the one with only one location, which you almost never go to because it’s so far from where you work and live. 

“James,” you say, voice soft with wonder, “did you go all the way across town to get this?” 

“Yeah.” He smiles, tilting his head sideways to rest it on his palm. “That’s the one you like, right?” 

“Yeah, but…” You shake your head, grinning. “You’re crazy,” you say, when you mean to say You’re incredible. 

“Crazy for you.” He makes a disgusted face as he says it, laughing at himself. You can’t bring yourself to do the same. 

You remember a time, not so long ago, when you would have felt lucky if the person you were dating responded to your texts at all. James has responded in person, with kind words and gifts and a thoughtfulness that’s going to brighten not just the rest of your day but your week. You’ve no idea what to do with this much sweetness. 

You shake your head again. “Thank you. Seriously, I—this is too nice. You’re so—” You lean forward, running your forefinger over the stubble on his jaw as you peck him on the lips. His smile leaps up on his face. “You’re so sweet to me, Jamie. Thank you.” 

“I don’t mind, sweetheart, really.” James palms the back of your elbow, his touch trailing down to your wrist as you pull away. “I like doing things for you. You deserve it.” 

You smile at him, letting the sincerity in his voice warm your chest. “Nobody’s ever been this nice to me before,” you admit. 

James’ expression heavies slightly, a divot forming in between his brows. You feel embarrassed for having said it. You don’t mean to sound self-pitying, you only want James to understand how much you appreciate him, how unprecedented he is for you. 

He smooths his thumb over the hairs on your arm. “I want you to be happy,” he says, a carefulness to his words that’s so unlike his usual quick, energetic way of speaking. “Angel, I’ve got no reason to be anything but nice to you, because it makes me happy to see you happy. It’s like—” He glances away from your face for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “Like I’m getting to see you the way you’re supposed to be, does that make sense?”

He looks to you for confirmation. You can only stare back at him in stunned silence, horrendously in love and falling deeper by the second. James must find whatever he’s looking for in your expression, though, because he gives your wrist a friendly squeeze and goes on. 

“You’re supposed to be happy. You’re supposed to be treated nicely, no matter who you’re with, but I’m happy to be the person who gets to treat you that way.” He lifts his eyebrows as though to be sure you’re listening, lips quirking slightly. “And you’re nicer than nice to me, so I don’t want to hear any of this crap about bringing you flowers and a coffee being too nice. Got it?” 

Your face is a furnace. You don’t know how to respond. 

James grins, looking ten percent smug and ninety percent smitten. “Say okay, sweetheart.” 

“Okay,” you echo, unable to help breaking into a smile of your own. “Thanks.” 

James groans. He grabs the seat of your chair, rolling you closer to him until your knees are on either side of his. “Enough with the thanks,” he chides, more laughter than irritation in his tone. “Those other people sound like assholes, lovely. We’ve gotta up your standards.” 

[nadvs]

i have loved your work for some time now and you always outdone yourself with every new thing you write. im obsessed with the sleeping with the enemy blurbs🤍🤍

can i request rafe getting into a fight because he heard someone talking bad about reader and he goes to her dorm and she cleans him up and he doesn't confess what happened because she would mock him or something like that?

YOU’RE SO SWEET OH MY GOSH THANK YOU 😭 i loved writing the one-shot and i’m so pleasantly surprised and touched that so many readers like the au!! tysm i love this request!!

based on this fic

before he knows it, rafe’s knuckles are pulsating with a sharp ache. it all happened so fast.

he’s at a bar off campus. he’s painfully sober. his team lost at an embarrassing margin today. and then, he heard one of the guys who’s dating a girl on his team’s cheerleading squad shit-talking his best friend.

he called her an attention whore. said she purposely hikes up her skirt when she dances at games and will say yes to any guy who asks for ‘you know what’.

rafe knows the truth. this guy likely got caught looking at her by his girlfriend and is now overcompensating by saying how gross the hawks’ cheerleader is.

even though his words were bullshit, they were more than enough for rafe to start swinging. unfortunately, his victim had friends near by. they got a few punches in. then he got kicked out of the bar.

at this point, she’s the only person who can make him feel better. so, he’s knocking on her door soon after. he invited her out tonight, but she told him she’s staying in to study.

she gasps when she opens the door and sees him holding a red stained tissue up against his mouth.

“what the fuck…” she breathes. “are you okay?”

before he can answer, she pulls him in by the crook of his elbow and guides him to sit on her desk, pushing her textbooks away.

she lowers his hand, eyes worryingly searching his face.

“how much does it hurt?” she says with a wince.

“it’s not that bad,” he says. it’s true. the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet, but he’s sure he’ll be bruised up and sore tomorrow. “but i fucked up my hand.”

she looks down at him flexing his hand. his knuckles are red and swollen. she holds his hand in hers, her skin warm and soft, and shakes her head.

“shit,” she whispers. “i’ll be right back.”

she rushes out to the bathroom and comes back with paper towels, some damp and some dry. then, she pours him some water from her mini-fridge and puts a bottle of painkillers beside him on the desk.

rafe watches her in awe as she scrambles to help. he’s not sure he’s ever had someone be this worried about him. this determined to make him feel better.

he keeps his hands on his lap as she leans forward, dabbing the damp paper against his skin.

“lay it on me,” she says quietly. “and spare no details.”

rafe already rehearsed this in the car. he hates to lie to her considering the fact that honesty is basically the cornerstone of their friendship. but repeating what that jackass at the bar said is a waste of breath. it’ll just hurt her. he can’t hurt her.

“some guy was talking shit about the game,” he fibs.

“sorry. it was a rough one tonight,” she says. “last thing you needed was that.”

he had a game at a college an hour away tonight, so she had a stream of it playing as she studied. she watches his games whenever she can.

rafe is an amazing player. she never followed or cared this much about the career of any athlete she dated. and she’s not even dating him.

“it was bullshit,” he mutters.

“it was,” she agrees. she slowly runs the dry paper towel over where she moistened his cheek. “how many times did they rebound foul? i actually lost count.”

“exactly,” he says.

“and if i’m out of line, fine,” she continues, “but what the hell was morrow doing? was he tired? he was practically handing them opportunities.”

rafe nods. he laid into eddie morrow, his team’s small forward, for his shitty defensive transitions tonight.

“he told me he had a bad sleep,” rafe scoffs.

“great excuse,” she breathes. she straightens, looking at his cleaned up face.

it gives him an opportunity to stare at her. she’s so casual about it all. how quickly she swept in to clean him up. how much she knows about the game he lives and breathes. how beautiful she is.

how could anyone say anything bad about this woman?

“you’re a little swollen but still pretty, for what it’s worth,” she says with a smile. “i just hope your hand’s okay in time for your next game.”

even if it isn’t, rafe knows that punching someone for shit-talking her was worth it.

“take one if you want,” she tells him, picking up the bottle of painkillers. “get ahead of the pain.”

he pops a painkiller and gulps down the water she poured him.

“you wanna hang out here while i study?” she asks. “my room is way more exciting than some bar.”

she’s being sarcastic, but honestly, hanging out with her does sound like more fun than going out.

“sure,” he says simply. he’s exhausted. and being here feels good.

throughout the evening, rafe lies on her bed, scrolling on his phone while she studies at her desk. every so often, they fall into easy conversation. but it’s no surprise. everything between them is so effortless.

eventually, he starts dozing off and is about to stand to leave, but she tells him he can just pass out in her bed.

as rafe falls into his slumber, smelling her on her pillow, he tiredly mumbles that he wishes he met her sooner. she turns to look at him in surprise, feeling butterflies over his words when she knows she shouldn’t feel that way about her friend. his eyes are already shut.

he falls asleep thinking about how good she smells. she continues to study thinking about how nice is to have him around.

[mooniiify]

what about tsukishima with a girlfriend who’s insecure about her glasses?

it starts off a little into their third year of high school. she keeps complaining that her eyes are burning during every study session, sometimes they even water up. and once tsukishima showed her something on his phone and y/n asked him to give her the phone because she couldn’t see, tsukishima pointed out she probably needed glasses.

she scoffed. “no, i don’t. the typing is just too small.”

“i see it perfectly fine with my glasses,” tsukishima pointed out. “when was the last time you got your eyes checked?”

silence fell between the two for a moment. y/n played with her thumbs. “. . . never?”

tsukishima sighed. “just go get them checked. you might not need them, but it’s better to know. otherwise you’re just straining your eyes.”

she waved him off, but decided to actually take his advice and book an appointment. tsukishima hadn’t heard about it, not until she called him on a tuesday two weeks later.

“i look so fucking ugly.” she cried dramatically on the other side of the phone.

tsukishima, who’d been sitting on his desk doing his homework at his house, put his pen down and furrowed his eyebrows. “what are you talking about?”

“you were right, my eyes are shit snd i got glasses but i hate them. i’m never wearing them.”

tsukishima scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. “they can’t be that bad. show me.”

“no. they’re ugly.”

“well, i can’t judge if i don’t see them.”

“you’ll never see them. i don’t need your judgement, too!”

tsukishima took his phone off his ear and tired to switch the call to a video call, which y/n immediately rejected. “don’t even try! i’m refusing to wear them.”

“i’m sure you look fine, dumbass,” tsukishima tried to reassure her. he touched his own glasses for a moment. “can you at least see better with them?”

“. . . yes, i can. the doctors said i should wear them all the time if possible so i don’t strain my eyes further, but i don’t want to.”

“you’re being dramatic, it really can’t be that bad.”

“dramatic?” y/n scoffed in the other side. “fuck off. i’m going to go and self-pity since my boyfriend won’t allow me to.”

before tsukishima could say anything the call ended. he sighed and got up, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way.

y/n, on the other hand, sat on her desk. a small mirror faced her as she held her brand new glasses — those ugly little things. she didn’t want to put them on, not again. those had looked good in the store but now they made her face look so odd; she hated it. she was never—

a knock. y/n stilled in her seat. “you in there?”

his voice. “how did you get here?”

“your mom let me in. can i come in?”

y/n sighed. “fine.”

she heard the door open, then close. she heard tsukishima’s footsteps approaching her, then saw from the corner of her eye as he placed a plastic bag on the desk, right next to her elbow.

“i got you something from the store.” tsukishima’s long finger pointed at the glasses still in y/n’s hand. “so that’s them?”

“yup.”

tsukishima took a moment, his eyes stuck on the glasses. “it’s just some average glasses. that you need to see.”

“yes, i’m aware. thank you.”

tsukishima sighed. “come on, put them on.”

“no.”

“you know, you’ll have to wear them eventually. if you don’t, you’ll strain your eyes more and your eye sight is gonna get worse and it’ll start to sting, and—“

“okay, okay! i get it,” y/n cut him off, grumbling as she opened the frames. “why do you always have to be so reasonable?”

normally, he would’ve teased her further, but seeing as she was finally feeling comfortable enough to put on her glasses, he didn’t want to ruin it for her. he was an asshole, but not that big.

the glasses were on and y/n stood up, looking at him. “there they are, ugly as hell. you happy?”

“do you see with them?”

y/n was taken aback. that wasn’t the response she was expecting. “huh? i mean, i guess so.”

“yeah? i see with my glasses, too.” tsukishima took a step closer. he didn’t touch her, keeping his hands on his hips. “and you know what i see with them? i see you, just as i’d see you every day, and you look as pretty as usual. if anything, in my eyes you look better, knowing your blind ass can finally see.”

y/n wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch him or kiss him.

“why can’t you ever compliment me normally?”

“that’s not what you signed up for.”

still, his words stuck with her. he’d helped, in his weird, tsukishima-esque way.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Extra Credit - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeProfessor!Rafe x CollegeStudent!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 Fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, pet names, squirting, overstimulation, breeding kink, praise kink, ownership kink, creampie, cum play, older Rafe

📖 College Student Reader is close to a C and decides to ask her gorgeous professor for some extra credit.

✨ This - This is a man. Sure, I’ve been with plenty of boys, but this is divine. I can tell that he knows what he’s doing: how to kiss, how to touch a woman. I need him. All of him. ✨

3.1 k lightly edited (<- mostly smut) I'll be adding part 2 soon :)

“I'm so close to a C,” you grumble, eyes rolling as you hold yet another Econ test between your fingers; D+ scrolled in blood-red ink. “Another fuckin’ D.”

“A D+, actually,” your friend teases, tapping the top.

“Well, would you look at that?" You sass, readjusting yourself from your slumped state, eyes drifting ahead, matching Professor Cameron’s. He represses a smile, running his palm against his lips.

"Do they do extra credit in college?” You whine, leaning into your friend, resting your head on her shoulder as you continue to sulk.

“Professor C? No fuckin’ way; the guy’s a hard ass.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” You look his way again, just missing his eyes. “He looks sweet,” you whisper.

“He’s hot as fuck,” she adds, making your cheeks flush pink. “Is he married? I don’t see a ring.” She studies him a little further, trying to get a better look.

“Why does it matter?” You ask, narrowing your gaze on him.

“Meh. It doesn’t, but it makes it easier. You said you wanted extra credit, sunshine.” She wiggles her eyebrows, elbowing you playfully.

“Just tell me what you’re getting at,” you huff. “Class is almost over, and I need to figure this shit out.”

“Jesus Christ, babe. You want extra credit. He's not married. And he already looks at you like he wants to devour you.”

“Eat me?”

“If that’s what you’re into, or you could suck him off, I suppose," she giggles as you let out a little gasp. ”Ugh… Stop clutching your pearls. If he was lookin’ at me like that, he’d be blowin’ my back out every day of the week.“

”So, you really think he likes me?“ Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you turn in his direction. He’s not looking at me…

"Just give it a second," your friend breathes.

Professor Cameron thumbs through the remaining stack of tests, handing another small pile to his teacher’s assistant before snagging his school bag and coffee cup. Your stomach floods with butterflies as he matches your gaze, walking toward the lecture hall steps.

”Just fucking do it,“ she groans. ”Even if you don’t get the extra credit, at least you’ll get somethin’ out of it.“

"Something?”

“Dick… Seriously. What the fuck, girl?" 

"Stop bein’ mean,” you whine. ‘What if he doesn’t want me?“

”Sure,“ she laughs.

You walk down the hallway, heading toward the faculty offices. Wandering slowly as you skim the name plaques, searching for his.

Professor Rafe Cameron

Rafe? You bite back a nervous smile. I’ve never met a "Rafe” before. You lift your fist, giving the door a soft knock.

“Come in," he calls from behind it. You twist the handle; Rafe’s blue eye expands slightly, along with his smile. It quickly fades. Maybe he doesn’t want me here. Maybe I need to go.

”I’m sorry. I… Well, I didn’t make an appointment,“ you babble, twirling your hair nervously.

"No - No. It’s alright,” he assures, the corners of his lips curling as he says the words. “Take a seat. Please.” He gestures to the leather chair across from his large desk. You walk over taking a seat, smoothing your little skirt before matching his eyes. He addresses you by Miss, surprising you when he uses your last name, falling from his lips with ease. You’re taken aback, frazzled at the moment that he knows you by name, out of a lecture hall full of students.

I’m clearly not an exceptional student. There are students with perfect scores in my class. Maybe he’s just thoughtful. Maybe he remembers everyone’s names.

“Are you alright?" He asks as he leans back in his chair slightly, adjusting in his seat.

"Umm… Just a little nervous," you let out a flighty laugh as he gives you his full attention.

"I don’t bite," he smiles, crossing his arm across his broad chest. You watch as his linen shirt stretches across his strong arms. You study him a little more, taking in his features. You’ve never gotten to see him this close: perfectly quaffed locks, just the right amount of stubble on his chiseled jaw. He’s loosened his tie since you saw him last, Rafe’s top button drawn open as well, a peek of a gold chain matching his ring-adorned fingers. He guides your attention back to his eyes, using your first name this time, making your heart race.

"So, is there anything I can help you with?” He asks you again with a softer tone, just trying to pull any sort of answer out of you.

“Sorry… Umm. I’m not doing very well in your class. I just - I’m not used to doing so poorly.” His eyes soften on yours as you continue to spin your sob story. “I seem to do well on my papers, but, I do really bad on my tests.”

His lips tug to the side, brows knitting tight. “Well, that’s because I grade your papers,” he hums as he turns his swivel chair toward his computer, pulling up the gradebook. “My T.A. is on a little bit of a power trip this semester. And it does not help that you’re stunning. Think someone’s a little jealous,” he chuckles. You feel heat spread across your cheeks as you take in his compliment. “We’ll see if we can work something out.”

Professor Cameron matches your smile, lingering a little while before returning to his screen. “Alright…” He takes a deep breath, squinting slightly before taking out some black glasses. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with.” He scans the numbers, writing down a few things on a little Post-It note. “So it looks like lesson 5, 6, and 8 tests were all D’s.” You nod your head in acknowledgment. “Well, you can retake these if you’d like. And, I can regrade them for you; skip the middleman.”

“Really?” You bubble.

“'Course,” he breathes. “There’s no reason those tests should be that low given what you know. I’m very impressed with your written work.”

“Yeah?” You expel a sigh of relief.

“Yeah… I would bet that you could finish the course with at least a B.”

“Wow, Professor Cameron. Thank you so much. At least… So, I could maybe get an A?” You smile, sweetening your tone, just playing around, doing your best to lighten the mood.

“Maybe,” he chuckles, relaxing back in his chair. “I don’t see why not. And we can always talk about extra credit if you’d like.”

“Extra credit? That would be really nice, Professor Cameron.” Your eyes fall to his thigh; two thick fingers moving ever so slightly, tracing the sleek black material, making your mind wander as you think about what he could do with his hands, if he was rough or gentle. He looks like he’d be rough.

“Yeah, extra credit,” he hums; you follow his gaze, eyes lost in your cleavage, hidden slightly by your oversized jean jacket.

“What can I do for you, Professor Cameron," the words leave your lips before you can think them through. "F-For extra credit, that is," you recover quickly your cheeks shifting from a pretty blush to a deep red hue.

He fights off a smile, rapping his ringed finger against the wood desk a few times."Whatever you’re comfortable with," he breathes. Rafe raises his hand, brushing away his smile just as he did in the classroom. This time, more of a smirk.

Whatever I’m comfortable with… He wants me to? Maybe?

Grabbing your jean jacket, you pull it off your shoulders, exposing your pink top, black lace peeking out."I’ll do whatever it takes to get an "A,” Professor Cameron.“

"You will, now?” he sighs, sinking in his seat slightly, widening his thighs, making himself a little more comfortable. “You sure about that?”

“Mhmm," you breathe as you lean in closer, giving him a better view of your breasts. He lets out a sinful laugh, loosening his tie a little more than before, his icy blue eyes darkening along with yours.

”And, you’d do anything it takes to get that “A." Huh?" He mumbles as you work the satin straps over your shoulders, letting it fall around your waist.

"Anything.”

“Shit," he draws out the word, snatching his glasses off his face before rising in his seat. He’s tall, far taller from this angle, towering over you as he walks around the desk, designer dress shoes shuffling along the floor.

"Are you married, Professor Cameron?”

“Nah… I’m not. I’m single. And, you can call me Rafe if you’d like," he rasps, pawing his tie the rest of the way off. ”Are you single? Anyone taking care of you.“

"Just me," you whisper, your innocent eyes set on his.

"Just me. Huh?" He echoes. You nod as he grips the armrests of your swivel chair, towing you closer. "These boys not cuttin’ it for you, princess?" You shake your head 'no’. You can see the print of Rafe’s long, thick cock; pressing against his slacks. "I’m gonna take care of you." He takes hold of your chin with a heavy hand.

"Okay, Ra-” He steals your words, claiming your lips against his. Rafe catches your moan in his mouth, answering with his own. You let out a little gasp as he lifts you to your feet, bringing you closer. The two of you work on what little clothing remains between sloppy kisses, tearing it off each other’s bodies until all that’s left are his black boxer briefs.

Rafe groans as his rough fingers glide down your smooth skin, tracing the small of your waist, massaging and pressing your breasts together as his eyes roll back. He lifts you effortlessly, taking you into his strong arms. You hold on tight as Rafe swipes his palm across the desk, making the items tumble to the floor. He lays you on top, lips barely losing contact, kissing you roughly.

Your hands drift down his chest, journeying lower and lower. You rake your hands back up, feeling his muscles, resting on his chest, feeling his heart pound underneath. You dig your nails into his skin, making him hiss out a breath.

You feel the chill of his rings against your hot skin as he squeezes your tits, shoving them together. “Jesus fuck, baby girl,” he mutters, locking down on your nipple, swirling and flicking, leaving you a whimpering mess. “You look good… So fuckin’ good,” he groans, running two thick fingers between your thighs, skimming your slit. “How are you so wet?” He growls.

You take in his scent, rich and delicious, amplified by the warmth of his bare skin. You reach for him desperately, pulling him to your lips as he rocks into you, thrusting languidly, stroking your aching pussy with his clothed cock. His gold chain sways, with each roll of his hips brushing against your cleavage.

“Please,” you whimper, desperate for more.

“Want me to eat your pussy, angel? Hmm? Bend you over my desk?”

“Yes, Rafe. Fuck," you whimper.

He lowers himself between your legs, looping his arms under your thighs, pulling you toward his face. Rafe spreads your legs, kissing you deeply, marking you in a way that’ll surely leave a bruise, teasing you as his digits slip closer. You take a grip on his sandy-blonde hair, pulling him nearer as you buck your hips, craving more friction between the two of you. Rafe breathes warmly against your clit, making you melt into the table.

"Rafe-" You beg, your words turning into a breathy cry as he plunges his tongue deeply, drawing out slowly, licking a line to your clit that has your body quaking. He sucks your bud, releasing you with a pop. Doing it again and again, leaving your thighs trembling uncontrollably. He brushes his tongue side to side on your clit, making your vision blur.

Rafe slings your legs over his broad shoulders, working deeper than before. You grip the edge of the desk; teeth clenched, muscles firing hot as you hold back your cries of pleasure. ”Cum for me...“ He grunts, driving his fingers into you as you nod rapidly.

"Y-Yeah,” you shudder, chasing your climax as he pounds into your dripping cunt.

“Do it.” Rafe curls his fingers inside of you, tension snapping as you moan his name. “Fuck… Say it again. Say my name again," he groans, looking down at you in a drunken haze as he works you through your orgasm.

"Rafe," you breathe. He slips between your legs, cleaning the mess he made with his tongue.

This - This is a man. Sure, I’ve been with plenty of boys, but this is divine. I can tell that he knows what he’s doing: how to kiss, how to touch a woman. I need him. All of him.

"Tastes so fuckin’ good," he mumbles. "Anything?" He asks again as he tugs at the elastic of his boxers.

"Anything," you mewl.

”Need to be inside you,“ he mutters as he pulls his boxers off his body. ”You want that. Don’t you?“

"Yes.”

He gives you a few experimental thrusts, watching you jolt in your sensitivity every time his rock-hard cock nudges your clit. You look at the slight space between the two of you, letting out a desperate moan, yearning to be filled. Rafe’s long, thick dick curved toward his stomach, glistening with precum, smudging against his tight stomach with each rut.

“Fuck me," you plead.

You let out a gasp as he stuffs his cock in your pussy; hips flush with your ass, balls deep; pushing even further. ”R-Rafe...“ You whimper, tears running down your cheeks as you feel the pressure in your guts. 

"Goddamn…" He grunts. ”You’re so fuckin’ tight. Shit - Pussy feels so good.“

”You’re so big,“ you whimper as you press your hand against your tummy.

"You okay? Takin’ me so well…”

“Yeah. M'fine. Feels so fucking good.”

“Been hopin’ you’d walk in my office since the first day I saw you." He brushes your tears away with his thumbs as he kisses your lips, dick buried deep. ”Who woulda thought you be such a slut for your professor. Huh?“

BANG. BANG.

"Hey, Rafe. Are you free?" His colleague yells from outside the door, causing the two of you to freeze. Rafe snares your hips, holding you in place. He draws a finger to his lips, demanding your silence.

"Wanted to see if you could look over something for me.”

Rafe grinds his hips slowly, not wanting to stop, cupping your breast in his hand. He leans down, giving you a soft bite, eyes focused on yours.

“Rafe?” The male tries again, making Rafe roll his eyes in annoyance. You watch as the shadow shifts underneath the door, walking away.

“Fuck, that was close,” he breathes, kissing his way up your stomach. “Come over tonight?”

“You want me to come over to your house?” You whisper as you smile against his lips.

“Need to fuck you in a bed. Want you to ride me. You want that "A.” Yeah?“ He asks, his voice deep and dark.

”Yes, Professor Cameron,“ you smile as you flutter your lashes, your angelic tone contrasting his wicked one entirely.

"You’re a pretty little thing. Fuck. You’re gorgeous," he praises as his swollen tip presses against your entrance, stretching you slightly, making your lips part in a soft "o.” He groans as he nudges himself a little further, rocking into you nice and slow, teasing you with the first few inches and his fat cockhead.

“Rafe… Pl-" Your plea turns into a gasp as he pushes himself inside, bottoming you out completely. Your back arches off the desk, nipples grazing his chest.

Rafe thrusts at a rapid pace, skin striking skin. Knocking you deep in your core. "Such a good girl f'me," he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough thrust leaving you trembling.

You let out a moan that has him rushing to silence you, sealing your mouth with his broad palm, each muffled sound more fucked out than the last.

"You’re killin’ me," he mutters against your neck. "Gonna let you be real loud tonight. Alright? Gotta big fuckin’ house. You can scream as loud as you want." His hand works between your thighs, brushing quickly against your clit; making you dig your nails into his shoulder blades."If I move my hand, are you gonna be a good little whore? Keep that mouth nice and quiet, f'me?”

“Yeah-”

“If you can’t, I can stuff it full for you. Keep you real fuckin’ quiet.”

“N-No. Wanna cum… Fuck, I’m gonna-” His focus falls to the sound of your body gushing, squirting onto his cock and thighs as he continues to pound you into the wooden desk.

Your body clutches him, muscles pulsing. “That’s it, baby. Fuckin’ squeeze me." He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, trying his best to thrust. Rafe doesn’t give you orders, simply forcing you right where he wants you. Gripping your hips, turning you a moment later, lifting your ass in the air as you take a hold of the desk. You look over your shoulder, watching as he winds up to smack your ass. Stopping himself with a smirk and a raspy laugh. ”I’m gonna ruin you tonight.“ His voice sends chills down your spine. Rafe grips your skin tightly, bunching it up in his hand as he coaxes his dick back in.

He ruts his hips deeply, fingertips driving into the fat of your ass as his hips clap against your skin. "Rafe," you blubber, trying your best to steady yourself on whatever you can grab. You can feel his tip kiss your G-spot with each stroke, working incredibly deep.

"Almost there… Want you to cum with me," he groans.

"Let me cum. I can’t-”

“You will…”

“Please-”

“M'gonna cum, baby," he grunts, hand weaving into your hair. He yanks it back, pulling your orgasm out with it, blanketing your mouth as he silences your cries. You flutter wildly around his cock as he fills you to the brim with his climax. Rafe draws out slowly, letting your releases drip from your cunt; rolling down your inner thigh. He grips his cock in his fist, collecting your shared release, swirling his tip around your entrance before stuffing it deep inside again.

"Goddamn," he mumbles. Swiveling his hips slowly, jagged breaths are heard as he continues to move, completely overstimulated but loving the feeling too much to quit. "Mmm… You’re gonna ride me tonight. Bounce on me; tits in fuckin’ face. This wet fuckin’ pussy is mine..." He moans, already desperate for more, as he palms your soft skin.

You reach for air, doing your best to catch your breath, riding a euphoric high. ”Shit… Did I get an A, Professor Cameron?“ You laugh breathily.

"A” fuckin’ plus, princess.“

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[wandascosmic]

you've got a smile that could light up this whole town (2)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part two of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 3868

warnings: sexual harassment in the workplace, talks of sexism and racism, small mention of blood in a joking setting

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“That’s the thing. It’s very sturdy paper,” you speak to the client on the phone. “And on the back it says 100% post-consumer content.” 

You’re on the phone with Mr. Deckerd, the CEO of one of your biggest clients who amounts to about 25% of your commission for the whole year. Wanda makes fun of you for buying a mini bottle of champagne every time you make a sale to him and his company, but you can’t help but celebrate a little. This year, you’re pushing recycled paper on them for about 1% more, so maybe you’ll buy a medium-sized bottle of champagne if you make the sale. 

Suddenly, you hear a static noise in your ear. “Hello?” you ask, wondering if your client is still there. You plug the ear that isn’t touching the phone to hear Mr. Deckerd better, but the static sound continues. “I’m sorry, Mr. Deckerd I think I’m losing-” 

But then you can’t hear anything because your stupid desk neighbor is shredding his papers at his desk. 

“Hello? Hello?” But you can’t hear anything because of the stupid shredder. “Hold on one second,” you reassure your customer, even though you have no idea if he’s still there. 

“Sam! Do you really have to do that right now?” you yell over the shredder.  

“Yes, I do,” he responds, barely paying you any attention. “I should’ve done this weeks ago, actually.” 

You flip him off under your desk. 

“Mr. Deckerd, I'm really sorry,” you speak on the phone. “What were you-” 

You still can’t hear anything, and it makes you give Sam an annoyed expression. “Can you give me one second?” you tell Mr. Deckerd on the phone in your fake nice sales voice. “Yeah, just one second. Thanks.” 

You press the off button on Sam’s shredder with your pointer finger, and he narrows his eyes at you.

You shrug back in response. 

“Hello? Oh, that’s it. Perfect,” you let Mr. Deckerd know. “So, what I was saying-” 

Sam hangs up the phone for you by pushing a button on the docking port and you want to slap him in the face. 

“Hello?” when you hear nothing but the dial tone, you set the phone down and run your hands over your face. “Thanks a lot, Sam.” 

“Retaliation, Y/N. Tit for tit.” 

“That’s not the expression.” 

“Well, it should be.” 

Now you want to punch Sam instead.

“Solitaire?” you ask Wanda, popping a jelly bean from the candy dish at her desk into your mouth and leaning over it to peek at her computer screen. 

“Yeah, freecell,” she tells you, brows furrowing in focus at the game. 

“Six on seven,” you point to the digital cards. 

“I know I saw that,” she nods.  

“So, why didn’t you do it?” you ask. 

“I’m saving that,” she gives a shy smile, “cause I like it when the cards go…” she imitates the shuffling cards. 

“Who doesn’t love that?” you shrug, smiling at her. 

She giggles in response, and you help her win the rest of the game.  

Tony comes out of his office. “Everyone in the conference room,” he announces. “Diversity day seminar.” 

Everyone gets out of their desk to go meet in the room, but you stay on the phone in order to make the sale to Mr. Deckerd.

“Y/N,” Tony states. “Wrap it up.” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Uh, Mr. Deckerd-” 

“L/N, hurry up, please.” 

“Uh, Mr. Deckerd, I'm actually going to have to call you back,” Damn it, you were so close. “Thank you, sorry about that.” You hang up the phone.

Wanda meets your stride as you both walk in together and she wraps her hand around your elbow absentmindedly. 

The two of you usually sit together, but unfortunately, you were both the last to walk in due to your phone call so you both take a seat on opposite sides of Thor.  

Once you sit down a man from corporate hands you a blank card for you to fill out by writing down a work-related incident you found offensive, and you and Wanda look at each other, knowing exactly what incident you were both going to write. 

A couple weeks ago, the head of corporate, Thaddeus Ross had made disgusting remarks and had acted completely sexist and racist to every single female or ethnic worker in the office. He had reduced every single person to just their ethnicity or sex and had made incredibly vulgar remarks that you didn’t want to think about again because of how offensive they were. In fact, they were so ugly that those who had taken the worst of his comments didn’t come into the office for the next 2 days because of how violated they felt.  

You bite your tongue as you remember the lewd comments he had made about Wanda that day. 

“Wanda’s really easy on the eyes, don’t you think?” he had whispered to you, his coffee breath making you want to push him as far away as possible. “I bet she’d make way more money on her knees rather than behind that desk…” 

You had frozen in your seat, shocked at the words Ross uttered out of his mouth. You were about to reprimand him and let him know how inappropriate his comments were, but you didn’t get the chance because he got called over by Tony right after uttering those awful words. So instead, once he was gone from your sight, you had immediately stood up and gone over to Wanda at her desk while she was faxing documents Bruce had given her to let her know about the disgusting comments Ross had made. 

Wanda’s expression had hardened once you told her, and she had taken many deep breaths to reel in her emotions. “Thank you for telling me,” she had breathed out. “Honestly, I’m not surprised with the amount of times he’s cheated on his wife,” she had told you with a weak smile. Ross always confided in Wanda about his affairs for some reason, and he gave her a copious amount of detail about his nights spent in bed with other women. 

You had watched her brave resolve crumble as she played with the rings on her fingers, a nervous tick of hers, and it made you see right through her act. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I'm ok,” she had told you, “But I’m never staying within six feet of him again for safety reasons,” she gave a shaky laugh.   

For the rest of the morning, you were able to tell that she was still rattled, with the way she kept zoning out while doing her work and kept playing with her rings and biting her nails. 

So, you decided to do something nice for her to calm her down. During your lunch break, you had gone out to buy all of Wanda’s favorite things. Initially, you had told Vision to do it after letting him know about the incident while he was working down in the warehouse, but all he had responded with was that he was busy and would check on Wanda when he had the chance. 

You knew of his busy schedule, so instead, you thought it would be good to go yourself, and it ended up being so worth it. 

That day, you had bought Wanda chicken paprikash from her favorite restaurant, many packages of the obscure Sokovian candy she really likes, a pocket-sized package of her favorite book series because she was a sucker for miniature items, her favorite perfume because you could tell she was running low based on the way it was becoming less and less strong as the days passed by, a box of chocolates just because, and a mini disco ball, which you bought as a joke hoping it would put the smile back on her face. 

You had definitely gone overboard based on how your bank had called you that day because of how much money you spent, but Wanda didn’t need to know that. 

Plus, you didn’t really care because, well, it was Wanda.  

“Hey, Wands,” you had gone up to her at the end of the day with a plastic bag in your hand. 

Which to Wanda by the looks of it, seemed very heavy. 

“Hi, Y/N,” she had greeted you back softly from her chair. “What’s in the bag?” 

You smiled as you pulled out the mini disco ball, pressing the button so it lit up and placing it on the ledge of her desk. 

“For you,” you had told her, “so every day is a party,” you joked. 

Wanda had picked up the disco ball between her fingers, “you bought this just for the sake of making that joke,” she had answered back with a grin. 

And the disco ball had worked just as you wanted it to, because she had smiled again for the first time that day. 

You shrugged. “Maybe, but it did make you laugh, Maximoff.” 

“Smiling isn’t laughing Y/N,” she said cheekily. Before you could respond she asked, “What’s in the rest of the bag? It’s definitely not that heavy with just a tiny disco ball inside.” 

You slowly pulled out each of the items one by one, making sure to keep the mystery for as long as possible. And it was so worth it, because with every item you pulled out Wanda’s smile widened more and more. 

“Wow…” Wanda trailed off, slowly dragging her index finger over each item as if they were made of glass, until her finger stopped at the candy. “Y/N! They only sell these at that store 40 minutes from here!” her eyes gleamed with worry as she looked at you since there was a snowstorm that day too.

“30 minutes,” you corrected, “and it was nothing, Wanda, honestly. This is supposed to be kind of like a ‘Ross Sucks’ fund. You were shaken up, so I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

Wanda had pushed her tongue against her cheek as she watched you with tears in her eyes. She made her way around her desk until she was in front of you, and had hugged you as tight as possible. “Thank you,” she had whispered while squeezing you as tight as she could.  

As she pulled away a couple moments later, she had kissed your cheek and gave you a soft look while whispering the words, “I’m really glad I have you as my best friend.” 

It was the best gift anyone had ever given her. Somehow, you had singlehandedly turned Wanda’s awful day into one that would bring a smile to her face for the rest of her life. 

The next day, the mini books and disco ball had ended up displayed at Wanda’s receptionist's desk, and Wanda had given you a cheeky smile while popping a candy into her mouth. 

The man from corporate took each of your papers back with a small thank you, eventually creating a large stack. 

“Alright, so I’m here today to talk about diversity,” the man began. “It has come to my attention that a recent issue from an anonymous source has made you all very uncomfortable, so I was called here. We are all still unaware of who made the offensive comments we have heard of, so corporate thought it would be best to put all of the Shield Industry branches through this seminar to be safe. Let’s get started.” 

You started zoning out in worry at losing your biggest client, since Tony had made you hang up the phone due to his lack of patience when it came to being late to an event. After this morning’s exchange with Sam, you hoped he would continue to remain with you as his salesperson. 

You didn’t even notice that you had stopped paying attention until Wanda tapped your shoulder to whisper about how the man from corporate looked a lot like Dracula from Hotel Transylvania, and you responded that you should test if he’s really a vampire by putting blood in Sam’s bag so he’s the first to go.

You don’t know how much time has passed until suddenly, Tony’s voice brings your attention back to the meeting. “Hey man, I’m sorry, but you need to leave.” 

“What?” The man whose name you still don’t know responds. 

Long story short, Tony kicked out the man and forced you all to get back to work simply because he didn’t like his face. 

“Uh, hi, is Mr. Deckerd around?” you spoke on the phone. “Oh, well, could you just have him call me after lunch? Thank you.”

You ran your hands over your face in stress, god, you really hoped you didn’t lose your biggest client. 

“Attention, everyone!” Tony yelled out stepping out from his office. “The replacement seminar corporate is making us go through will occur immediately after lunch, so don’t be late!” he stepped back into his office. 

You’re too anxious to eat anything, so you spend your lunch break playing solitaire with Wanda while she eats the sandwich she packed this morning, since she usually spends it answering calls anyway. It’s the perfect pass-time because you’re still near the phone in case Mr. Deckerd calls, and she’s excellent at distracting you and making your worries fade away. 

The last ten minutes of your break are spent at your desk staring at your phone, the busy tone ringing out suddenly seeming like it's mocking you.

Around 1 pm, a tall short-haired lady walks in, “Hi, I’m here to lead the diversity seminar?” you hear her introduce herself to Wanda at the front of the office. 

Wanda stood up to shake her hand. “Welcome, I’m Wanda. I’ll let Tony know you’re here.” 

She ran into Tony’s office to inform him of the woman at the front, and from your point of view, you could tell that this new woman was attracted to Wanda based on the way she was staring at her from behind. 

“Everybody in the conference room!” Tony yelled out as he stepped out of his office, leading the orange-haired woman corporate hired in the direction of the room. 

Thankfully, this time, you and Wanda walked in a little earlier so you could sit next to each other at the back. 

Wanda had a clipboard in her hands to take notes as part of her job as a receptionist, and while she wasn’t looking, you drew a small smiley face at the corner of her page, a long-time tradition since you first joined the office a year after her. 

“Alright, now that everybody’s settled in, hi, my name’s Pepper, and I’m here to lead the diversity seminar after this morning’s complications,” the lady said, giving Tony a look. “To start off, what can you tell me about diversity?” 

Sam raises his hand. “It means having a diverse background.” 

“Yes, very good. Anybody else?” 

“It means being inclusive to people of all race,” Bruce answers. 

While Nat is answering, Wanda notices the small smiley face at the corner of her page and smiles softly. 

“What about you, hon?” Pepper asks Wanda while she’s lost in thought. 

Wanda’s head snaps up, “Sorry?” she clarifies. 

“What do you think about diversity?” 

Wanda pauses to think for a moment, “I think it’s acceptance of people of different background that’s not only limited to race but also gender, economic status, age, social class, and sexual orientation.” 

“Wow, impressive,” Pepper smirks, staring Wanda down like she’s almost a piece of meat.  

Wanda’s eyes widen and she shifts uncomfortably under Pepper’s stare, as she feels incredibly objectified once again. 

“Nerd,” Sam coughs into his fist. 

But Wanda can’t focus on Sam’s comment, because for some reason Pepper’s gaze is starting to remind her a lot of the way Vision looks at her. 

But it’s probably nothing, it’s probably just that he’s attracted to her because they’re engaged. 

Pepper’s seminar goes on for another 30 minutes, and while she’s discussing an acronym called HERO, you hear the phone ring. 

You don’t mean to be rude, but you’re so anxious you’re going to lose the sale you sprint out of the conference room to answer the phone. 

“Hello? Hello?” you answer, but you get no response. You tap your foot nervously on the ground and hang up the phone, running your hands over your face. 

You really hope Mr. Deckerd answers soon. 

Back in the conference room, Wanda still feels Pepper’s gaze on her and it makes her increasingly uncomfortable. The way Pepper was eyeing her like she was her prey to devour mercilessly made her feel so awfully degraded, like she was just an attractive object to be used and not another person. It made her want to jump out of her seat and run away as far as possible, or at least to you, since you were her best friend after all and you could calm her down with just a touch. 

But Wanda calms down when you walk back in and take your seat next to her, giving her your infamous smile despite the way she can tell you’re stressed due to your stiff posture, and it fills her heart with warmth. 

Pepper is still on the same slide as when you left, so you don’t think you missed much. 

“Diversity, equity, and inclusion are the three factors needed in running an office that feels safe to people of all background,” Pepper continues and you can tell that everyone is starting to get sick of the seminar. 

“How much did I miss?” you whisper in Wanda’s ear. 

“Barely anything,” she whispers back, and Wanda feels her nerves settling. “She’s been repeating the same thing in different ways for the past 5 minutes.” 

You let out a small laugh. 

And Wanda does too. 

And you both try your best to suppress your laughter for the next two minutes.

You sit there for a while trying your best to listen to Pepper’s speech, but it proves to be an incredibly hard struggle because her presentation voice is ridiculously robotic. 

“Excuse me, Pepper,” Sam states. 

“Yes?” 

“What’s diversity again?” 

God, this was going to be a long seminar. 

You were in the middle of zoning out for the third time when the phone rang, causing you to spring out of your seat and sprint out to answer it. 

“Mr. Deckerd!” you greet into the phone the second you get in your chair. “We didn’t lose your sale today, did we?” you chuckle. “Excellent! Okay..” you pull out a pen. “Let me just get your– What’s that? No, we didn’t, we didn’t close last time,” your brows furrow in confusion. 

“I just need your, uh–Oh! What code were you given?” you’re still confused. “Oh, okay. Yeah, no, he’s actually another salesman here.” Oh, now you realize what’s happened. “Yeah, I can redo it if you want to do that. He gave you a discount?” Well played. “No, no worries, I don’t blame you,” you reassure him. “Okay, thanks, have a great day, Mr. Deckerd, it was nice speaking to you.”

You slowly place the phone back onto its docking port, sighing, and putting your head in your arms on the table.  

It was official. 

Sam had stolen your biggest client. 

You walk back into the conference room with your hands in your pocket, noticing that Pepper is coming to the end of her presentation. 

You sit down, thinking about how you hope that Sam enjoys the mini champagne you left on his desk. 

Then, all of a sudden, you feel a soft weight on your right shoulder, causing you to snap out of your thoughts, and the scent of your favorite vanilla perfume fills your senses. 

You turn your head to take a closer look at her, and once you see her face, a huge smile breaks out across your own. 

Wanda Maximoff has fallen asleep on your shoulder. 

And it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Her features are soft and relaxed, devoid of all the stress the office usually brings her, and Wanda’s delicate beauty is completely on display for you to see. She looks ethereal, as if she’s been crafted piece by piece by every single goddess to ever exist. 

You stare at her for what feels like an eternity, and she seems so soft and so Wanda that it feels like a small delicate butterfly has landed on you, and you never want her to go away. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face as you do your best to sit as still as possible for the next few minutes in order to avoid waking Wanda up while Pepper wraps up her speech.

“All right, everyone, it’s after 5, so you’re all dismissed,” Pepper announces once her presentation comes to a close. “Hope you learned something today.” 

Slowly, everyone makes their way out, and you hear their soft muttering about how the seminar was completely useless as you watch them from your seat, careful not to disturb the brunette angel sleeping soundly on your shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you two were together,” Pepper says once everyone has left, packing up her bag.

“Hm?” you ask. 

“You and Wanda,” she points to you and the receptionist. “She seems very nice, you’re quite lucky.” 

“Oh!” you laugh. “No, Wanda and I aren’t dating. She’s engaged,” you clarify. “And yes, she’s wonderful.” 

Pepper laughs, “Oh, good to know. Sorry for assuming, she just seems very fond of you.” 

“No worries,” you reassure her, “I’m very fond of her too. She’s my closest friend,” you say, giving a small smile.

“Well, I wish you two the best. Have a good day, Y/N,” she waves goodbye to you. “And tell Wanda I’m sorry for making her uncomfortable during the seminar, I recently got out of a breakup and was looking for a distraction and she was the first thing I saw, but it was wrong of me,” she admits. 

You frown. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” you respond. “Thank you for letting me know, I hope things get better for you soon.” 

Pepper smiles and nods, heading out the door. 

As she walks out of the office she can see you staring through the window of the conference room, and she knows that Wanda’s not just a close friend to you.  

You and Wanda are left alone together, and you give her one last soft look before deciding to finally wake her up. 

“Hey,” you whisper causing Wanda to begin to stir. 

“Hm?” she asks groggily, rubbing her eyes, slowly coming back to her senses. "Oh,” she quietly murmurs, slowly blushing as she realizes she fell asleep on your shoulder and lifting her head off.  

“We can go now,” you let her know with a small chuckle. 

“Yeah, um, sorry,” she mumbles apologetically, getting up from her chair and grabbing her clipboard. 

“That’s okay,” you let her know with a soft laugh. 

“Um, I'll talk to you later,” she says shyly, walking out. 

“Yeah, talk to you later,” you agree, following her with a smile still on your face as you look at your shoes. 

And as you pack your bags, the phone at your desk where you lost your best client only a foot away, suddenly, it’s not a bad day anymore.

part 3

[jazziejax]

Queen Treatment for the

King

Pairing- Art Donaldson x black!OC, Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Patrick Zweig x black!OC

Summary- cute moments between Dion King and her best friends that adore her

Warnings- suggestive moments, implied sexual content, sexual tension, feet stuff…

Jazzie’s Notes!- This can be read as an ‘x reader’ since I don’t think I go into detail about my OC all that much. I also don’t really know how to write that well without an OC so,…..sorry :( also sorry for any typos or mistakes, I don’t enjoy reading back my own work

Word Count- 2,012

Part II, Part III

The noise in the room instantly went silent as the sound of shuffling made its way to their ears. Around the small corner at the entrance of Tashi’s dorm emerged Dion King in all her glory. The lean but curved girl made her way into the room with bags hanging on her arms and hades on top of her short blowout. She dropped the bags at the very corner of the archway as the door closed behind her with a click. Slightly out of breathe, she looked between her three best friends in front of her, dispersed around Tashi’s dorm. Patrick, who was sitting at her desk, looked annoyed as his eyes went Dion’s and back to Tashi, who was turned her attention from the boy and to her open closet. Art, who sat on the girls bed, eyes jumped from everyone in the room, not knowing what to say.

“What’s going on?” Dion asked, her sweet voice showing her confusion at the tense atmosphere. She stood there, not having a clue of prior conversation and why it stopped all of a sudden when she walked into the room. There was pause in the room, the tension growing. When no one else spoke, Art did.

“Nothing at all. What do you have going on there?” He asked, trying to change the subject. Dion quickly glanced between Tashi, who was still going through her closet for her next match outfit, and Patrick, who had turned to the monitor on Tashi’s desk. Dion’s brow twitched as her tongue poked her cheek. Not wanting to leave his question unanswered, Dion looked over at Art and smiled sweetly at him. “These are some gifts for my favorite person.” She said as she walked over to the side of the bed he was sitting on and placed the bags down in front of them as she took a seat. Art’s eyes trailed her figure, her bikini tan lines showing through the top of her bandeau top. His eyes then made their way down to her long legs, which didn’t add to her height. They were smooth and oiled, save for the small dots that littered her skin, a condition she liked to call ‘strawberry skin’. He knew that she had just gotten a fresh way by the mango oil smell that admitted from her skin and the short shorts she was wearing that showed the bottom of her ass cheeks.

She then snapped her eyes over to him, catching the boy admiring her. She beamed at the boy, Art immediately imitating her smile as he scooted closer to her on the edge of the bed. “But first,” She started. She then held out her hands, her many gold tennis bracelets that held different gems jingling together softly. She waved her fingers in front of him. “What do you think?” She asked, referring to her nails. At her question, Patrick glanced over his shoulder to see what they were talking about but he couldn’t see to well.

Art looked down at her hands and softly clasped them in his, seeing her short nails that had her favorite flower on them. “These are cute. Your favorite flower.” He noted, looking up at her. Dion cheesed along with him and nodded her head. She then turned and scooted closer, to where the underside of her bottom sat on the outer edge of his thigh. She threw her legs over his lap, never looking away from his face even though he broke eye contact to watch her movements like a hawk. She held up her leg, her knee almost touching his face. “What about these?” She asked, her voice lowering as she trailed the side of his face, leaning back on her elbows. Art's hands were immediately on her as she got closer, one hand coming to wrap around her legs over his thigh while the other trailed the leg that was up in the air. He followed his hand all the way up to her feet, which were in a pair of tweed wedges with white ribbons wrapped around her ankle and the base of her toes. Without thinking, his free hand pulled on the strings of the bow, loosening it and taking off her show. Dion’s foot was pointed as Art analyzed it. Her toes were done to match her nails, the flower only on the big toe while the rest were pink french tips.

Art’s hand grasped Dion’s foot, the soft bottom of it rubbing against the callous on his hands that he got from tennis. He brought her foot down, causing the file to bend her knee as she rose from her elbows to resting on her palms. His large palm massaged her foot, his thumb rubbing into the arch of it. “So, what do you think?” Dion asked in her sultry tone, leaning forward to wrap her arms around the boy's neck. Art’s head turned to her, his large nose brushing against hers due to their proximity. “Oh you know I love them.” He said, his tone deep and raspy as he held eye contact with her through both of their low lids. Dion smirked, her canines biting into her lower lip.

Both Tashi and Patrick turned to look at the pair, hearing the suggestive and downright horny nature of the conversation. They could see that the pair was close, whispering things to eachother as they never broke eye contact. Dion’s foot was now on Art’s lap, softly rubbing against his boner while Arts hands rubbed anywhere they could. Her feet, her legs, her back, her arms. He was stuck in her trance as they softly talked back and fourth. Tashi’s jaw clenched as she stared at the pair. As she turned to go back to what she was doing, she met Patrick’s eyes for a split second, who shared her hard look. She huffed, seeing him getting her pissed all over again, and turned back to her closet. Patrick wasn’t necessarily jealous in the same way Tashi was. She was angry that Dion’s attention was on some one else besides her while he was pissed that he was being left out of what Dion and Art had going on. Dion never left him out.

And by no means was this Dion trying to make Tashi and Patrick jealous, she was already in the mood after her waxing and was willing to fuck any of them. She would also never do that to Art, she loved her baby boy far too much to use him and do such a thing. But when Tashi and Pat ignored her earlier, she felt that she might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Watching Arts face morph the more she poke into his ear, and feeling the man twitch under her foot, Dion knew he was close. She smiled as she pulled her foot away and turned to sit the way he was, facing the bag on the floor. Art’s mouth dropped open, trying catch his breath after getting worked up.

“I got you something.” Dion said, leaning forward to pick up a small bag that was next to some other ones. “What? You didn’t have to do that.” Art said, watching as the bag was placed in his lap. Dion rolled her eyes. “Duh, but I wanted to so I did.” She said. She looked up from the bag when Art didn’t move to see the boy staring at her lovingly. “Open it, blondie.” She joked, playfully pushing his shoulder, hoping to distract the boy from the blush that crept up her neck.

Arts hands pulled the tissue paper from the bag to reveal a small box at the bottom. He grabbed the velvet cube and held it in hands. His glanced back over to Dion, who immediately pushed his chin to look back at the box. Getting the hint, Art smirked before opening the box. It instantly dropped at the sight of the large gold ring with a blue stone in the middle. He looked back over at Dion, who was smiling at him.

“How much did this fucking cost you?” Slightly angling his body to face her more. Dion shrugged her shoulders. “That doesn’t matter. I saw it and I thought of you so now you have it.” She said, taking the ring out of the box and placing it on his left hands ring finger. Art looked down at the masterpiece of a ring in admiration, stunned for a many of reasons.

“Do you like it?” She asked softly, trying to gauge a sincere reaction from the way he was just staring at it. Art immediately looked up at her, a large smile making its way into her face. “So I like it? I fucking love it, Queen!” He said before smacking his low onto hers. Dion laughed into the kiss before settling in, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their lips moved together for only a minute before Art got too riled up and let his hands start to travel.

Felling his palm directly over her heat, Dion broke the kiss.

“How about we take this next door to my dorm.” The girl smiled before standing up to gather her bags. “I can also give you a fashion show of all the things I bought if you’d like?” She said, smiling down at the dazed boy beneath her.

“You could read a book and I’d enjoy myself just watching you.” Art said, drunkenly looking up at the girl before him. Unbeknownst to them, both Tashi and Patrick simultaneously rolled their eyes at the boys cheesiness. Dion, on the other hand, grabbed the fucked out boy by his jaw, smushing his face together. “Oh Art, don’t you know just what to say to get a lady started.” She said through her teeth before smooching his puckered lips for a quick second.

She then gathered all her bags and was on her way out the door without a word before Tashi spoke up.

“What, no gifts and kisses for us?” She asked, leaning against her closet door as her eyes followed the other girl.

Dion barley spared her a glance as she passed. “I said my favorite person.” Was all that left her lips before she was out of the door. Tashi’s jaw clenched while Patrick sat in the desk chair with the look of a kicked puppy.

Once it closed, Art spoke.

“She didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes she did.” Patrick mumbled sadly, not looking up from his hands.

“No, she didn’t.” The blonde boy defended. “She’s only acting that way because she knows you two are keeping shit from her and you’ve kinda been avoiding her for the past week.” He said.

“What, you have, like, three days left?” He asked, looking over at Patrick. “And you’ve spent the majority of your time arguing over how you both feel about her? Can’t make up your damn mind?” He rhetorically asked, glancing between the two.

Before he could continue on, Dion’s head popped back into the door. This time, there was no notion of the prior conversation that could have left her questioning. Her eyes were trained on Art, who was still in the same spot on the bed. “Are you coming?” She asked, big eyes looking at him. The blonde immediately stood up, not caring for the obvious boner that they all could see. Dion giggled at the sight and moved to let the boy out. The door closing behind him engulfed the other pair in silence as they thought over what he said.

Let me know if you could would like me to start a taglist :)

[celestelunia]

She/Her

Reader is not Yuu

I plan on doing one with Azul next lol. Just had this one already written out on a discord server I'm on ^^

Hope you enjoy!

Jade sat at the desk in his room as he rested his elbow on the table while his chin rested in the palm of his hand. His heterochromia eyes glued on his girlfriend, who was sitting next to him. He had got her a terrarium, and now all of her focus was directed towards putting it together.

It was cute watching her so focused on something that he loved doing, but the longer he sat there watching her, the more he was getting a bit impatient. How could she focus so hard on something while he was right he next to her? That won't do at all.

Oh, the conflicts he suffered through because of this beautiful woman next to him.

"Pearl?" Jade called out, and his only response was a small "hm" from Y/N. Not even a glance was spared for him! This won't do at all!

Taking a moment to think over his options, a grin suddenly graced the eel's lips. One that would have had Y/N worried if she was paying attention.

He had been wanting to do this for a while now but wanted to wait for the perfect time, and Jade was never one to miss an opportunity. Just the image of her flushed face was enough to get him excited!

Removing his chin from the palm of his hand, Jade turned to face Y/N as he reached out and gently grabbed her chin as he turned her head to make her look at him.

"Huh?" Y/N blinked as she was suddenly pulled out of her focus on the project before her head was turned to face her boyfriend.

Jade gently ran his thumb over her chin as he watched her [skin color] start to flush from the contact. Oh, how he loved how easily he made her melt with just the smallest of touches.

Tilting her chin up slightly, Jade moved in closer, and before Y/N could register what was happening, his lips were sealed against hers.

Pulling back after what seemed like too short of a moment, Jade grinned as he saw the wide-eyed and flustered look on his girlfriends face. "My little mushroom. I'm happy that you are taking the terrarium seriously, but don't forget that I'm here as well."

He watched as she opened her mouth to speak but then quickly closed it as it seemed she couldn't find her words. She was just so cute like this, but what she said next surprised him.

"Can...we do that again?" She whispered softly as the terrarium she was working so hard on was already forgotten. "One more time..."

Jade's eyes widened slightly before a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "I'm hoping you don't want to stop after just one more." He teased before he leaned in to capture her lips in another kiss.

[dadyscumslutprincess20]

I’ve never asked for requests before, so I feel embarrassed 😭 if you could do a version of where either the reader is pleasuring Ryu shi oh or either he is eating her out. Idk I feel so embarrassed😭

Ryu Shi Oh x Fem!Reader (Black and Korean)

Genre : Smut 🔥

Warning ⚠️: office sex

~ Kind of short , writing five at once can do a part two for this if requested ~

Embarrassed , exposed and so dirty is how you felt as your back laid gently on top of your husbands office desk , his strong vainly hands holding your legs causing your knees to touch your chest , your breast exposed as they pressed together , your legs wide open for the whole world to see your cheeks becoming hot as you remember your husbands office is full of large windows his desk behind in the view were the street and the working lot which had workers loading the trucks lucky for you they were all busy trying to get their work done as fast as possible

You would be screwed if any happened to look up towards your husband’s office seeing his taller muscular figure sat on his knees his face buried deep in your soaked cunt your juices covering his face as you lost track of how many times you’ve came already but Shi Oh didn’t care using his tongue to draw different shapes inside your dripping hole

Groaning as he feels you tighten on his tongue slowly taking his tongue from your dripping hole as he licks from your dripping entrance up to your clit before attaching his mouth on to your clit as he starts to cut and lick at your clit letting go of one of your legs slowly trails down your thigh giving it a hard squeeze before slowly working his hand down to your dripping hole teasing your hole his long fingers playing with your fluids

“S-Shi Oh p-please stop teasing” Reader moans out as you use your elbows to sit upright pleading eyes looking your husband in the eyes

Letting out a small groan causing vibrations to run through your clit , your hole tighten as you feel two of Ryu Shi Oh’s long slender fingers enter your entrance plumping his fingers in and out of your soaked cunt , letting out a moan biting at your bottom lip not wanting to make to much sound knowing one of his workers was standing outside of his office door , just the thought sent shivers down your spine

Biting down on your lip as Ryu Shi oh slowly inserts two fingers in your dripping hole your walls tightening finally feeling full not wasting any time as he pushes he fingers in and out of your cunt at a fast past while he ducks and licks at your clit his eyes looking up at you with lust removing his mouth from your soaked cunt standing to his feet making sure not to remove his fingers instead picking up his past

Letting go of your leg with his other hand not before telling you to hold them in place , his talk figure staring down at you a smirk held on his lips watching with great eyes as he grabs at your neck slightly giving it a squeeze

“Your such a needy whore you know that” Ryu Shi oh says voice deep and full of lust , he eyes never leaving yours causing you to moan quickly shaking your head in denial

“Yes you are love, your a brat you know never knew how the wait I was in a important meeting you know than you came in with your whining..” Ryu Shi oh continues a smile forming on his lips as you look at him with teary eyes tears running down your face as you shake your head in detail once again only causing him to get annoyed

“And now you lying to my face”Ryu Shi Oh says his voice a bit raised as he gives you a dark look

“N-no S-Shi” reader moans put tears continuing to run down your cheek your hips slightly buckling on Shi oh’s fingers as you fell him slowly down his pace

“You lying brat” Shi Oh says in a raised voice hands never leaving your neck as he slowly drops by to his knees before his attacked his mouth to your soaked cunt as he starts his violent assault to your now sensitive clit

“S-SHI OH” Reader moans out legs shaking as you try to close them only for Ryu Shi Oh to force them back open giving you a death stare as you quickly hold them back in place trying your hardest to keep them open as Ryu Shi oh sucks at your clit his fingers curling inside your cunt picking up his past as his fingers constantly hit at your g-spot forming a knot in your stomach as you look down at Ryu Shi Oh with pleasing eyes only for him to chuckle causing vibrations to run through your body

“P-Please .. S-Shi I n-need to c-cum please I c-can’t..” reader moans put nails now digging in your thighs sure that you’ll have a bruise from how tight of a hold you had on your thighs blood dripping from your now nail markers left in your thigh throat slightly sore from how loud you were

Watching as Ryu Shi oh rolls his eyes giving a small hm that send causes vibrations feeling the knot in your stomach finally snap as you feel your juices cover Ryu Shi oh’s face his eyes widening as he removes his mouth your juices dripping down his chin taking his fingers from your dripping hole as he sees he’s hand is covered in your juices feeing his pants tighten as he looks at you with dark eyes

“Do it again on my dick this time ,yeah” Ryu Shi oh says as he stands to his feet eyes full of lust as your body shivers

[luveline]

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

Hotch touches your face much more than a boss should. Or, 5 times you have a nosebleed +1 time Hotch does.

8k words, a slightly bloody coworkers to lovers, fem!reader, nosebleeds, reader works in the BAU but isn't a profiler, jack is a sweetheart, hotch has game fr, fluff + hurt/comfort

༺༻

You like your desk job. You handle paperwork primarily, and act as a sort of assistant unofficially. Anything to be useful — you get paid either way. It's why you don't mind trying to be helpful in the office and take on some of the office administrator's overflow. 

Today, that's fixing the coffee machines. The office can function on one at a stretch but both being broken means an entire roster of grumpy agents and all of them are on your back. And when they have to see all the stuff they say? You figure fixing the coffee machines is the least you can do. 

You're ignoring the weight of their waiting, elbow deep in one of the machines. The instruction manual had mentioned a little spout that can get clogged with detriment. Hopefully, you can clean it out and get at least one machine working by midday. 

"Oh no," you murmur. 

The piece you're trying to unscrew is tightly wound, too tight for your fingers to work behind. You're probably going to need a small tool, like an allen key. 

"No luck?" Agent Prentiss asks, sounding defeated. 

You look up from the machine and smile quickly. "I need smaller hands," you joke, letting the machine sit back on the counter and pulling out your aching fingers. "I'll have one working by the end of the day, Agent Prentiss. Scout's honour." 

She shrugs and waves a hand at you. "It's alright. What's one day without caffeine?" 

You laugh at her good-natured sarcasm and go back to your machine. When you're certain you can't jimmy it you turn your attention to the second machine and run through the steps. You're too determined to lose. Your coworkers depend on you. 

You start by changing the filter and are unsurprised when that doesn't work. You check the button connectivity, the fuse, and then you turn again to that small piece that needs to be washed. 

"Yes," you cheer under your breath, pulling the piece from its home to assess the problem. 

It's a tiny pipe with a piece of mesh that acts as a sieve to trap dust. Maybe. Whatever it is, it's full of caramelised coffee grounds. You move to the sink basin and turn on the faucet to clean it, washing with anticipation as the burned coffee trickles down the drain. 

You're pleased enough to feel a mild adrenaline rush, and your excitement leads to butter fingers: you drop the prized piece of pipe and it rolls out of sight.

This is not a good time for business casual. 

You tug your too-tight pants from your thighs and bend down in search. When it doesn't reveal itself you get on your knees and run your hands along the seams of the kitchen cabinets, face lowered. 

"Is everything okay?" 

You wince at a very familiar, very unfortunately timed voice. 

"Yes, sir, everything is perfect," you say, looking up to meet the eye of your boss' boss, unit chief SSA Aaron Hotchner. "I've misplaced a piece but I'll have the coffee machine working again in no time. I'm sorry." 

He raises his eyebrows at you. It's a very nice expression on him, his eyes light with an emotion you don't often see on him. "Is fixing the coffee machine in your job description?" he asks. 

You think it might be a polite reprimand. You won't insult him by insisting you're always on time with your actual delegated workload because he and your supervisor have to send you emails asking for missing paperwork all the time, so you try to disarm him. 

You beam. 

You're not a supermodel but everybody is pretty when they smile. "Sir, I thought I could sacrifice my lunch break for the good of the Bureau." 

"Yes, well." He looks like he wants to smile back. You might be seeing what you want to see, though. "That won't be necessary. Take your time." 

Your smile falters as you feel a telling heat at the back of your nose. "Thank you," you say quickly, covering your nostril with the pad of your index finger. 

You're hoping your swift words will send him on his way, but he's literally the lead profiler of the BAU. He knows suspicious activity when he sees it.  

"Is something wrong?" 

Blood starts to trickle down your palm. You slide your hand up to cover your nose the best that you can. The alarm on his face when he spots the blood sliding down your bare forearm can't be understated. 

"It's just a nosebleed," you placate, sounding stuffed up. 

He's a quick thinker, tearing a wad of paper towel off of the dispenser above the microwave and offering it to you.

If you weren't so distracted by your current predicament you'd say thank you. 

He turns back to the paper towels and tears off another wad. To your horror, Hotch bends down right there in the kitchenette and waits for you to open your palm, feeding the towels into your spare hand. 

"Should you tilt your head back?" 

"I think that's a myth," you say. 

Your skin starts to scrawl with embarrassment, the itchy, awful feeling of being pinned by his eyes. 

"How long do they usually last?" 

"Not very long, sir. I'm sure you're busy." 

He tilts his head slightly to one side as if conceding your point. "Let me help you up," he commands. 

You can't make yourself reject his help. Honestly, it's nice to have somebody care even if the nosebleed is purely superficial. His fingers curl around the crook of your elbow and he helps you onto your feet just in time for Agent Prentiss to return.

"Hotch, what did you do?" she asks, bewildered. 

You try not to laugh too much, worried you'll force another burst of blood. 

—

Confidential information. You hear it, you ignore it. Harder to ignore the whiteboards in the conference room that are currently choc-a-block with prints of crime scene photos. 

You don't mean to gawk at them. It's severely unprofessional and you shouldn't really be in here to begin with. The electronic screen is off, as are the monitors, so you know the room isn't in use. 

That could change any second, and it does. 

You hide your clammy palms behind your back at the sound of footsteps and try not to rush obviously toward the mug you'd come in here to collect. 

The door creaks open as you're leaning over the table. 

"I'm sorry," you say without looking. 

"You don't have to clean up after anyone." 

"Actually," you say quietly, abashed at having been caught, "this is my mug." 

You turn to face him. 

Agent Hotchner is tall and handsome. These are two undeniable facts and yet every time you see him it feels like a surprise. It might have something to do with how composed he is, how deliberate his movements are, or it might just be 'cause you have a crush on him. 

It's anybody's guess.

"I can make Reid wash it," he says. 

You're so whipped that your chest confuses his offer for something much worse. Like, he's on your side.

"That's okay, I don't wanna punish him for my own fussiness." You cover the mugs printed sides subtly, or as subtly as you're able. 

"What's special?" 

You smile at him, lips pressed together tight and eyes squinting slightly. You know what he's getting at but you ask anyways, stalling now he's caught you. "About what?" 

"About the mug." 

You peer behind him. 

"You can't tell anyone," you murmur, rounding the table to stand by his side with your shoulders to the door. "I'm not sure anybody knows it's mine." 

The mug is a corn-husk yellow and printed with a scene from a vintage Peanuts comic, dark-haired Lucy standing behind her lemonade stand that boasts 'Psychiatric Help 5¢'. Charlie Brown sits in front of it looking morose. 

It's hard to describe why you like it so much. 

"I see," Agent Hotchner says. 

It's become something of an office joke, offering each other five cents on bad days, calling someone Charlie Brown when they look lost. You doubt very much that anyone is making fun of you, you're just hiding that it's your mug because that's part of the fun. The mystery of the Peanuts mug. 

"I can't drink out of anything else," you confide, turning your face to his. 

He's definitely smiling this time. "Why would you?" 

You nod in genuine delight. "Exactly! Vintage Peanuts, and I searched so much for this because they used to use lead in glassware paint, and-" 

The nosebleed comes on suddenly. There's a drop of blood running down your lips before you've even realised. Agent Hotchner's eyes follow it all the way down. 

"Oh, no," you say, blood dripping to the hill of your chin. 

You use the back of the hand that's holding the mug to catch what's rolling down your neck and the other to pinch your nose closed, bending forward on instinct to hide your face. You're seasoned in nosebleeds. You know how you look — scary. Ridiculous. 

"Here," Agent Hotchner says. 

His hand comes into your eyeline, offering a dark square of fabric. You cringe at the idea of marring his likely expensive handkerchief but you can't not accept, pressing it haphazard to your bloody nose. 

"What were you saying about lead?" 

You're so frazzled about the blood you don't realise he's made a joke until it's too late to laugh.

"Do you know what causes them?" he asks. 

"I'm not really sure, sir. I used to get them all the time as a kid, um…" You pull the handkerchief away from your nose to check if it's still bleeding. When it doesn't continue, you say, "They're pretty harmless. It's done already." 

"If you need time off for a check-up, I'm sure the office administrator can find a sick day for you." 

You smile at him, and then remember the blood and grimace. I must look like Carrie right now, you think morosely. 

"That won't be necessary, sir, thank you. It's apparently the dry air." You're starting to feel more and more warm under his serious gaze. There's a startling amount of concern there. "I'm gonna go clean up now. Excuse me," you say, face glowing with heat. 

"Of course."

You cover your bloody face with the back of your hand, his handkerchief held in red-stained fingers. You pass Agent Prentiss on the stairs, hurrying past her with an I'm okay smile. 

"Hotch, again?" you hear Agent Prentiss ask incredulously. "Where do you get off?"

—

You can't return Hotch's handkerchief, it's a biohazard, but the fabric had felt so soft and the monogram in the corner had cued you in on how expensive it must have been. Your guilt manifests itself into three new handkerchiefs with the embroidered A.H. They aren't half as nice as the one he'd let you ruin. You leave them on his desk — or rather, you get Dr. Reid to leave them on his desk, as walking into his office doesn't feel like something you're allowed to do — and try to forget about them. 

For a week, you do. Agent Hotchner doesn't visit his office, Agent Jareau apprehends him on his way in that morning and the profiling team gather around their round table, and you don't see any of them for four days. The Friday they return, you're already on your way home. 

That's why his actions the following Monday shock you. 

It's unusual that he walks anywhere that isn't a straight shot to his desk. You're doing paperwork for once in your life, sitting awkwardly with your foot hooked under your thigh and a pair of wired earphones in. It's not technically allowed but he really doesn't venture over to you often. You've become complicit in your unsupervised nirvana of a desk job. 

You snatch your earphone out and struggle into a normal position. "Agent Hotchner," you say, wondering if you should call him Special Supervisory, or maybe something cooler, like your Highness. Your grace. He's intimidating in his accomplishments at the FBI, and he's super handsome. 

"Can I see you in my office? Ten minutes." 

You nod brainlessly. 

Your desk buddy doesn't wait long after he's left to investigate. 

"What did you do?" they ask from across the short partition. 

"I really don't know," you say, though you have your suspicions. 

"Were you reading on your computer again? I told you, read under the desk like a normal person." 

"No, I learned my lesson with that one when Agent Morgan started reciting Pride and Prejudice from over my shoulder." 

You check your face in a compact before you report to Agent Hotchner's office. Your heart beats in your throat as you knock his open door. 

"Come in," he says without looking up. 

You take a cautious step. 

He finishes off quickly and lifts his chin. His eyes are dark in the early morning light, his hair in mild disarray from the wind and drizzle. 

"Come in," he says again. 

You wish there was a word that could describe his voice accurately. He talks in the peaceable kind of cadence that comes with hushed tones without truly being hushed. 

"Sir…" You bite the bullet. "If this is about the macadamia cookies, I promise I'll replace them. I didn't actually eat any of them. They kind of fell out of the cabinet and exploded, it was a freak accident." 

He holds up his hand. "Thank you. For the handkerchiefs. They were unnecessary." 

He says 'unnecessary' with a smile. 

"Actually, sir, I think they were entirely necessary." You just disagreed with your boss. "Sir. I couldn't return the first, I ruined it and I- I didn't think you'd want it even if I got it dry cleaned." 

He raises his eyebrows. "It was unnecessary," he repeats, the word drawn out carefully. "But, I appreciate the gesture. Thank you." 

Two thank you's. You stop while you're ahead. "You're more than welcome, Agent Hotchner, sir." 

You share an amicable glance and turn to leave. 

"L/N?" 

You stutter to a halt. "Sir?" 

"Hotch is fine." 

You try not to swallow your own tongue. "Hotch," you say, and then worry that's something people only do in movies. 

A few days later, your humming along to your earphones and wading through the chaos of the bullpen feeling pretty happy. The office has been busy but not in the scary, suffocating way, and you're happy to be here. The BAU can be hard (and that's as someone who isn't on the front line). Times like this are cherished. 

You pause a foot from your desk, eyes creasing into a suspicious squint. 

There's a small box on your desk. 

"What is that?" you ask your desk buddy. 

"What?" they ask.

"That. There's a thing on my desk." 

"Nothing to do with me." 

"Think I should call the bomb squad?" 

"I'm sure you'll be alright. Maybe read the note before you raise the alarm." 

"There's a note?" you mumble, caution swiftly overrun by a burning curiosity. 

You'd be sincerely worried about a bomb, only this is the FBI. If a bomb got this far into the building half the people in it would lose their jobs. You kick your bag under the desk and drop your ipod onto the desk, tinny music blaring from your earphones. 

"What are you?" you ask under your breath. 

The box is wrapped in crepe paper and a yellow sticky note has been attached to the top. 

Rest assured, made without lead. 

That only confuses you more. You're hesitance has your desk mate sitting up in their chair. "Wait," they say, peering over the glass partition, "should I raise the alarm?" 

You slide a trim fingernail under a neat stripe of tape. "No, I think we're good," you mumble. 

And lo and behold, a mug is homed inside. A Peanuts mug no less; the mug has been printed with a Peanuts comic panel. Charlie Brown lays on the floor in a straight plank, and standing overy him is his friend Linus, who says, "I have been asked to tell you that your cries of anguish are keeping the whole neighbourhood awake!" 

You laugh loud and instinctively, shrill enough to attract the attention of half the office. Slapping a hand over your mouth, you slouch down as low as possible in your desk chair. Heat pools in your cheeks. 

"What is it?" your desk mate asks. 

"A present." 

And hence your new favourite mug is brought into life. You write your name on the bottom with black sharpie and continue to deny all knowledge of the first, which you retire to the drawer of your desk. 

For a while your nosebleeds go away. You know exactly who left the mug on your desk, and you remember the joke he'd made. Maybe Hotch had been on to something, and you'd inadvertently poisoned yourself.

You smile practically every time you see your new mug, and you're unsurprised when others appreciate its humour. 

You're not sure how to explain it to an eight year old, though. 

You're slumped over, nose to the desk and hand working diligently across your notes. Having a crush on your boss makes doing your work easier because you're constantly trying to impress him — an impossible task, but trying all the same. Your earphones bump a soft love song, something sweet to cut through the unhappy details of the case file you're working on. 

"What are you listening to?" a small voice asks. 

You drag your gaze up slowly and find Jack Hotchner standing beside your desk. You've seen him in person a few times, and once as Hotch's phone wallpaper, but he grows so much between visits you almost don't recognise him. 

"I'm sorry," you say, pulling your earphone out, "what did you say?" 

"What song are you listening to?" he asks, hands creeping up over the lip of your desk. 

You sit up and smile at him. You can't say he looks like Hotch, though maybe you can see it in his tiny grin, that hint of cheekiness. "I'm listening to a song called At Last. It's a love song. Do you… want to listen?" you offer quietly. 

He nods. 

You push your chair away from your desk and turn down the ipod's volume so it doesn't damage his hearing. "Here," you say, offering one of your earbuds. "Don't push it in, okay? I don't want it to hurt your ears." 

Jack takes the proffered earbud but doesn't seem super interested. "Do you have The Beatles?" he asks. 

"The Beatles! Is that what you and your dad listen to?" 

He nods, pleased, and you nod yourself, flicking through your songs in search of what he wants. 

"I have Here Comes the Sun. Do you like that one?" 

He beams. "Yes! Me and dad sing that one in the car." 

That's a really nice image, Hotch and Jack belting happy lyrics together in the busy mornings. It's also odd. Hotch singing isn't an image you can say you've ever thought of before. 

"I love this one," you tell him, letting your elbows dig into your thighs so the two of you are eye level with one another. 

"Me too." 

You share the earbuds, Jack combing your desk for something interesting no doubt. You cover a case detail that involves some gory images and almost knock over your mug in your haste. 

"What does that say?" he asks, pointing. 

Jack looks between you and the mug for answers. 

You lick your lips. "Uh, do you want me to read it to you?" 

He thinks about it. "Can I try?" 

"Of course you can." 

You clear a path for the mug and place it in front of him. 

"I have been asked to tell you," he begins confidently, "that your cries of an-" He frowns. "Anguish are keeping the whole ne… I don't know that." 

"I'm sure you do, it just looks weird. Neighbourhood." 

"Neighbourhood," he repeats. "Keeping the whole neighbourhood awake." He huffs a boyish, gentle laugh that makes your heart spin. 

"Good job, buddy." 

He melts under your praise. He's a cute kid, and his hair shines golden under the office lighting. It flops to one side as he tilts his head. "What's 'anguish'?" 

"Anguish. Uhm, it's like sadness." 

"Oh." He takes this in. "Do you have Let It Be?" 

You eventually give up your chair and let Jack sit with your ipod in his lap, playing through all The Beatles songs that you have. Nobody seems to be watching you and Hotch has yet to come out of his office and tell you off for supplying his son with technology, so you work around him, leaning over the back of the chair to fill in what's missing from your reports. 

Jack leans back in his chair, his adorable singing coming to a stop. "Do you have movies on the computer?" 

Yes, but should my boss' son know that? "It's for work," you say regretfully. 

"Not even FernGully?"

"I'm sorry." 

He shakes his head. "It's okay, it's not your fault."

"Do you like to draw? I don't have many colours, but we can play a game." 

He smiles for a moment, then hesitation crawls over his features. "Dad says not to disturb anyone." 

"I'm on my lunch break," you assure him. You hadn't been, but you don't mind taking it now. "Are you hungry? I have oranges." 

You and Jack end up sitting under your desk. You really don't mean to end up like that; you sit on your knees because your back has started to ache and Jack wants to sit with you. You can't say no to him. (You could, you just don't want to.)

"What did she say after that?" you ask, fingers digging into two orange segments to pull them apart. You shave off all of the strands of white pith before you pass it to Jack, who says thank you every time. 

"She said to ask Stacy who said to ask Morgan P who said to ask Joan. And Joan said she didn't wanna know, but then she changed her mind after I told her abd she said to ask Cooper." 

"What did Cooper say?" 

"Cooper says he doesn't think he knows where it is." 

You nod, chewing your own orange slice slovenly. "Well, what did your dad say?" 

"I haven't told dad." 

You lift your head from the paper where Jack has drawn an impressive house with five windows. "You haven't told your dad?" 

"He worries about everything." 

"That's his job, Jack. He has to worry about you." 

"He worries about everybody." 

"Some people do." You clean another orange slice for him, and he says thank you again. "You're welcome… Jack, I really think you should tell you dad. It sounds like somebody might have taken your pencil case on purpose. And even if he can't find out who did, he can get you some new pencils for school." 

"I told mom but she hasn't done anything yet." 

Your stomach hurts. 

"Well," you murmur, picking up the green pen, "I'm sure she's trying her best, baby. Can I help colour in these trees?" 

You and Jack fall into a companionable silence, his head bobbing to You Make My Dreams (Come True) the cutest thing you've ever seen. You're not sure how long you sit there, but all good things must come to an end, and your half hour for lunch draws to a close. 

"Hey, Jack?" you say, straightening where you kneel and preparing to stand. "I have some stuff I have to do but you're welcome to stay there." 

Unfortunately, you don't manage to grab his attention. Double unfortunately, somebody else does. 

"Morgan, where's Jack?" 

You peek past your desk chair. A little ways away, Hotch stands looking sick to his stomach, and Agent Morgan looks lost. 

"I didn't have him?" 

"I asked him to sit with you," Hotch says miserably, throwing his gaze over the office. "Jack?" 

Jack hears that loud and clear. Something in his dad's tone must spark some urgency, as he stands in a rush and trips on his own shoelace, smacking the top of his head into your nose. 

You gasp. 

"Ouch," Jack moans. 

Blinking, you shake off your disorientation. "Oh no, are you okay? Here, sweetheart, stand up," you encourage gently, "I'm so sorry, have I hurt your head?" 

Jack's gaze to the floor, he rubs the top of his head with a clumsy hand. "It's okay, Miss Agent, it wasn't you and-" He stares at you. 

"What?" you ask. 

"Dad!" he shouts, backing away from you. "Daddy!" 

Jack runs out of your little alcove and straight into his father's legs, almost bowling him over. Hotch drops two relieved hands down to his small shoulders. "What?" he asks, startled, "What happened?" 

Your nose stings, admittedly, but you've felt worse. It's a light throbbing that distracts you entirely from the blood racing down your lips until you taste it. 

Shit, you think, crawling out from under the desk with one hand, the other clamped over your bleeding nose. Your movement draws Hotch's attention, which in turn gathers at least a quarter of the office's. 

"I didn't mean to," Jack says shrilly. 

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault," you say stuffily, clambering onto shaky legs. 

You turn your head away from the collective gaze of the office and start toward the kitchen and hear at least three different people say, "Wait!" 

You ignore them, using your elbow to help tear off a paper towel from the roll and pushing it without finesse against your face. You squirm under the weight of tens of eyes, more embarrassed than anything else, worse when a warm hand turns you by the shoulder. 

"He really didn't mean to," you say, looking up into Hotch's concerned face. 

"I know." 

"Is he okay?”

"He's not the one with a nosebleed," Hotch says, neither kind nor unkind. 

"I honestly didn't even feel it." 

His fingers curl around your wrist, a slow tightening. "That doesn't surprise me, Y/N." 

You bite your tongue to stop from laughing. “He bumped his head into me." 

"Mm. Just a red mark. It won't even bruise." 

You deflate in relief. "Oh, good." 

Hotch's hands have found their way onto yours. He pulls one from your nose, gaze hardening at the strong river of blood that makes its way into the dip of your cupid's bow. 

"I'm sorry, sir." 

He shakes his head and gathers another wad of tissue paper, a light blue that quickly turns to a wine dark when he presses it to your face. Your heart hammers at his proximity, a thousand and one nerves aflame. 

He's close but not too close, nothing anyone could mistake for something else, and still it feels like a strangely intimate moment. His careful touches. He directs your hand to hold a fresh paper towel to the stream of blood and discards the bloody tissue. You watch him push up his sleeves carefully and give his hands a quick rinse in the sink before he dampens another paper towel. 

It's cool against your neck. 

"I think your shirt is ruined," he says, dabbing at a line of dried blood. 

You shiver at the feeling of cold water dripping under your starched collar.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, moving up to your jaw. 

You don't know how to admit it to him. No, it doesn't hurt. Your hands are really warm, and you're touching me so gently I can barely feel it. 

"A little." 

"Well, Jack is very sorry." 

"He doesn't have to be. He tripped, he…" You fade off as Hotch lays his hand across your cheek, thumb lifting your head slightly so he can clean your chin. 

"How are you faring?" he asks. 

You pull your tissue away and wait for the tell-tale heat of continued blood flow. You're ashamed to admit it but you're almost glad it hasn't stopped, Hotch's hand warm and large and impossibly comforting. Nosebleeds don't stress you out, exactly, but it's not fun to be covered in your own blood at work where everyone can see you. It's nice to have somebody wiping it away. 

"I think I'll live," you say. 

—

Jack sends you an apology card. 

It's hand delivered. Hotch is coming up to the BAU main floor as you're heading out. Like a rock dividing a river, his teammates stream from the elevator around you and Hotch remains inside. 

"I'll catch up," he promises. 

Agent JJ raises her eyebrows. Agent Morgan chuckles. 

You draw in on yourself self-consciously. You don't dress as nicely when he isn't here, and today you're rivalling Dr. Reid for most lovable dork in a pair of brown pants and a big sweater. Teetering the line between professional and unprofessional. 

"Sir," you greet, stepping into the elevator.

He presses the ground floor button. "I have something for you." 

Your eyebrows jump up high. Hotch unzips the main zipper of his duffle back and threads between clothes and papers for a smaller envelope. 

"It's for you." 

You accept, careful not to tear the thin sheet of folded paper as you pull it free. You're thrilled to see a drawing of Charlie Brown on the front, crudely drawn but clearly him with his head-wrapped in bandages. His puppy Snoopy sits beside him with something in his hands. You're not sure what. 

The inside is even sweeter. 

To Y/N

I am sorry if I made your nose angwished. Please feel better soon 

Love, Jack Hotchner. 

"Oh, I love it," you say, rubbing your thumb over a heart drawn in red crayon. "He's really something else, Hotch. He's brilliant, and so smart. I mean, anguished." 

He laughs and it twists your chest in five different directions. "He is." 

"It wasn't his fault though. If my nose weren't so sensitive it really wouldn't have bled at all, I didn't bruise. How is he? Did his head feel better?" 

The doors open. You hesitate, waiting for his reply. 

"Children are made of harder stuff than we are," he says. 

You step backwards out of the elevator. "I felt so bad. I don't suppose he'll want to come and sit with me again." 

"Actually," Hotch says, stepping out of the elevator just as the doors close again, "he thinks you're, uh, in his own words, the 'coolest friend' I've ever had." 

"Friend," you repeat with a smile. 

You've focused on the wrong word, and you worry an awkward silence will ensue, but Hotch steps up to the plate and says, "Yeah. He wouldn't stop telling me about all the cool songs you have on your ipod." 

"Purely for non-working hours." 

"Right." His smile says that he's seen straight through you. 

You're thinking maybe he likes what he sees. 

"This is really amazing," you reaffirm, pressing Jack's card to your chest. 

"He felt guilty." 

"He doesn't have to. Please, tell him I said thank you. And that he's amazing. And that my nose was being dramatic." You smile softly. "He can sit with me whenever he likes." 

"Maybe at the desk, next time, rather than under it."

"Yes, sir." 

You nod at him and he nods back, and you take it as a dismissal, turning on your heel. You've barely walked a metre when he's speaking up.

"Y/N?" 

You look at him from over your shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Are you hungry?" 

You bite your cheek in a hurry to answer, “Yeah. I’m starving.”

Your heart is basically a ticking time bomb in your chest as you and Hotch make your way into the heart of the city. He's a fast walker with long legs and you rush to keep up. That’s totally why you’re breathless. Not because he makes you nervous. 

Hotch is a really surprising guy, though maybe he isn’t surprising at all, you’re simply unversed in how he is outside of work. He talks more and his voice grows louder the further into the city you go, more expressive. 

You’re no profiler, but you’d bet money on Aaron Hotchner being nervous.

Good thing you’re nervous, too. 

“It’s not far now. You like Thai?” he asks. 

“Yeah, of course. Have you ever had Tom Yum?”

“With shrimp?” 

“Exactly.”

“I think I’ve tried it. I lived off of pad Thai when I was a prosecutor,” he says, head tilting back very slightly. His Adam’s apple works under the skin. 

He looks back down, a sheepishness to his voice as he continues, “A lot of late nights.”

“More than now?” you ask skeptically.

His laugh is low and warm. “No. The firm was much closer to the city than the bureau. It’s a long walk.”

“It is,” you say, taking a small step closer to his side to share a secret smile, “but it hasn’t felt that way tonight.”

You try to keep it light. You don’t want to scare him off. 

“No,” he agrees. “It hasn’t.”

You duck into a fragrant Thai restaurant and order fast, the two of you knee to knee in the very corner. A potted plant threatens to blind him every time he moves, and so he endeavours to stay very still. 

The food's a little on the spicy side, and while you're laughing you can't find it in you to feel embarrassed about your runny nose. 

"You didn't like Seinfeld?" you ask, and how you got here's a mystery, but Hotch is extremely passionate about it in the best way. 

"No, of course not. How could you? George was always worrying about something, he was the definition of a self-fulfilling prophecy and he never learned!" he debates, all in a rush, chopsticks moving in emphasis. 

You snort and wipe your nose again. "It was like a relief, though, that it was happening to him and not to you, you know? You might be having a bad day but George Costanza's having a worse one." 

"Oh, honey," he says. 

It takes you a second to realise that he's talking to you. 

"What?" you ask, perplexed. 

Hotch stands up though there's no space for it, chopsticks ditched and hand pushed into the recesses of his pocket swiftly. He pulls out a small packet of tissues, and he lifts his chin, a jut. You lift your own, and he's quick to press the tissue to your nose. 

"It's bleeding?" you ask, startled. 

"Just a little." 

"Sorry." 

"No, no," he says, bent down, a comforting hand around your shoulder, "don't be. It gives me an excuse." 

"To do what?" 

"To be this close." 

Your smile is a slow, molasses thick thing. You can't get a handle on it, and Hotch's answering one is worse. He looks so happy to be here with you, to be wiping your bloody nose. 

It's only a small nose bleed. Hotch pulls the tissue away once or twice to check, wiping at it tenderly and giving you a comforting squeeze each time. The silence feels natural as breathing. 

"There," he says eventually, pulling the bloodied tissue away with a smile. "All done." 

"Thank you, Hotch." 

"I'd think you'd better start calling me Aaron, considering."

"Considering what?"

His hand climbs from your shoulder to the column of your throat. He doesn't make you wait any longer, leaning down with a sure, brave deliberateness. He presses his lips to yours. 

A sweet kiss but too short — barely two seconds and he's taking a half-step away, your lips tingling in want. 

You go to stand and he pushes you down into your seat, not unkindly. "I'm gonna go see if I can get some hot water for you," he says, placating your gutted look with a kiss to your cheek. 

He wipes it thoughtlessly with the pad of his thumb before he goes. 

You're genuinely surprised your nose doesn't start bleeding again at the look he gives you as he turns the corner toward the restaurant's kitchen. Protective, knowing. Your heart races in your chest. 

You probe at your face, elated. Your sensitive nose is good for something after all. 

—

The first time you sleepover with Aaron is an accident. You don't "mess around," as you'd crooned over the phone, joking but with enough salaciousness to make him smile. The gas and hot water had stopped working in your apartment, and though the landlord had promised they'd fix it the very next morning, Aaron couldn't stand to think about you cold and alone when you could easily be warm and with him. 

So here you are. 

"Are you sure this is okay?" you whisper, peering over his shoulder at Jack. 

His son stands in the living room in his pyjamas.  

"It's okay," he says, "I asked him, and you know he's obsessed with you. His one condition is that you watch FernGully." 

"FernGully," you say, enthused. 

"You'll like it." 

You actually really do. Showered and dressed in your own pyjamas, a little shy but not too much to stop from laying against his side on the sofa. He's got one arm around you and one around Jack but he might as well be invisible, the two of you talking in murmurs across his chest. 

"And that's-" 

"Pips," Jack supplies helpfully. 

"Pips," you say, hand spread over Aaron's chest. 

If he didn't know better he'd think this was a slice of heaven. 

"So many people," you whisper in Aaron's ear. 

"More in the second one." 

"There's two?" 

After the movies finished — "It was better than you said, Jack," — and dinner’s been eaten and cleared away, Aaron takes Jack to bed. 

"Do you want a story?" Aaron asks, flitting around the room in a half-hearted attempt to square away the mess. 

"No." 

"You sure?" 

Jack's eyes are heavy, and they have been since dinner. "Yes," he mumbles, face turned into his pillow, hands lax on top of his blanket. 

Aaron smiles and makes his way to Jack's side. He kisses his son's cheek, and strokes the soft hair from his face. He smells like strawberry toothpaste and kids shampoo. 

You're sitting on the end of the bed when he gets to you, face damp with skincare and shining in the light. Aaron kisses you without touching it, worried he'll mess it up. 

“He’s wiped. All the excitement,” he says. 

“Excitement- From me?” you ask. 

“From you.” He puts his hands carefully either side of your neck.

You haven’t been dating very long, and still he knows how easy it is to fluster you. And while he loves to see it, see you giddy and shy, blinking at nothing like there’s a light shining in your eyes. He’d once pressed his thumb with the very faintest of pressure into your windpipe while kissing you, and you hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for three days. 

He loves that, but he’d prefer if you slept facing him. He wants to see what you look like asleep, as odd as it sounds, he assumes you’ll be beautiful. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were more. 

“Aaron,” you whisper. 

“What?”

“Want me to massage your bad shoulder?”

He wonders, as he thinks is more than allowed, if that’s a seduction trick, but you genuinely just give him a massage, as you have a couple of times in his office after noticing how sore it gets now the weather’s cold. 

You rub into the problem spot carefully, sighing with sympathy. “Oh, baby,” you say, more to yourself than him. 

He fucking loves the way you say it. Aaron’s never been called baby like that — like it’s his name, and it’s sweet to say. Your tired yawns warm the back of his neck as you go. He doesn’t think he’s getting lucky tonight, and he doesn’t care one bit. He feels pretty lucky just having you near. 

He gets you under the covers before you can fall asleep against his back and makes sure you know how grateful he is for the massage with two kisses. The first is a genuine thank you and the second is to make you laugh, nipping and playful under your jaw. 

Aaron falls asleep thinking about it. 

He wakes to something much less idyllic. 

It’s that strange feeling. Being a dad has honed it, but he’s always had it. It’s one of the things that makes him so good at his job, a prickling at the back of his neck. At first he can’t pin it down. 

Your waist rises under his hand with your breathing. He remembers that you’re there and smiles contentedly, hand sliding behind your back to pull you in. You’d fallen asleep on your back, and you’ve turned toward him in your sleep. 

The metallic stick of blood is sudden and sharp in his nose. He knows what it is before he opens his eyes. The room is dark, lit only by the red light of his alarm clock on the nightstand. His eyes ache with fatigue, and he knows in his gut that it’s too early to get up. 

Blood pools under your nose. Not a lot, nothing to panic over, but blood all the same. He sits up, quickly turns on his bedside lamp, and rouses you as gently as he can, a hand slid under your shoulders to drag you up. 

You blink blearily. “What?�� you ask, voice scratchy. 

“Nosebleed,” he informs, pinching your nose before blood can slink down your neck and ruin your pyjama shirt. 

You wince and he hates the way you flinch away from his touch, your clouded confusion. It’s only a second but it doesn’t sit right with him. 

“Sorry, honey.”

You catch hold of his bicep and blink some more. 

“You okay to pinch it yourself? I’ll go grab some tissue paper.”

You nod robotically and replace his light pinching with your own, much less kind. He rushes to grab a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom, and when he returns you've pulled yourself into an alert sitting position, awaiting his return. 

He tears you off a wad of paper. “Here, honey.”

“I think it’s stopped.”

“Yeah? Let me grab you a towel.”

Back to the bathroom. When he returns for the second time you’re holding his given toilet paper against your face. He’s alarmed to find your eyes glassy with tears, shimmering in the bedroom light. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, sitting across from you. 

He’d been right about sleepy you. You look lovely, a little funny with your rumpled pyjamas, and now quite sad because of your tears. “Honey,” he says again, pulling your hand from your face so he can assess the damage, “you’re okay. Is it hurting?”

You’ve told him before the nosebleeds are painless, but maybe they’re a symptom of something, maybe you’re sick—

“I ruined your pillow,” you mutter. 

Ah. That’s much better than your being sick. He can work with that easily. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He takes your chin between his thumb and his forefinger to lift your head. The blood has stopped already; your nosebleeds are often a whirlwind, over by the time you’ve started panicking. 

“I’m sorry.”

He drops your bloodied tissue into his lap and brings the dampened towel to your face. He’s cautious. Your nose gets irritated and any roughness could disrupt the blood clot or agitate the anterior blood vessels inside. 

“You think I’m mad over a pillow?”

“No, of course not.” 

You sound stuffy. It’s adorable. Adorable and sad. He rubs the hill of your chin in a show of affection. 

“Then why?”

“Sorry, I think I’m just tired. I- I was trying to make tonight perfect because,” — a small tear bumps down your cheek — “it’s our first night together even if it was accidental.”

He dabs at your upper lip and the wet blood there with a smile growing. “It was perfect. It is perfect. You getting a nosebleed on a seven dollar pillow doesn’t change that.” His hand moves to your cheek, squashing your baby tear. “You know I love any opportunity to touch you… Now, do you want a glass of water?”

You close your eyes and lean your face heavily into his palm. “Can I have one of those kisses from earlier?”

“Can you keep your blood inside your body?” he asks with a smile, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Depends how hard you bite me.”

He’s very, very gentle.

—

+1

Aaron breaks his nose. You are not supposed to know that he breaks his nose, only he breaks it so bad that he has to go to the hospital to get it set, and he decides he’d like you there. 

Technically, somebody else broke his nose. The details aren’t important. What matters is that Aaron makes a rookie mistake and he has to deal with the consequences, which is a biting, aching pain behind his eyes and a trip to the ER. He does not let them take him in an ambulance, and it really isn’t urgent. He sits in a waiting room chair with a stiff back and it doesn’t take long before you’re striding inside looking terrified. 

“Hey, baby,” he says, testing it out. He doesn’t really like it. 

“What did they give you?” you ask, bending at the waist to take his face into your kind hands. 

“Vicodin when I got here.”

“Lucky you.” You turn his face in your hands. 

“You look beautiful,” he says. 

“I wish I could say the same, but somebody messed you up bad.”

He laughs and takes your face into his hands, the two of you smiling way too much for the situation that you’re in. “I was so worried,” you say with a little laugh. 

He kisses you soundly. It hurts, but it’s worth it. 

They call his name not long after and a nurse takes you both into a grey examination room. The doctor is a short, stern woman who has to use a stool to reach Aaron’s face, and she sets his nose with a swiftness that even he manages to recognise for the brutality that it is in his drug haze. 

You hold his hand. He has to try very hard not to crush your fingers. 

It starts bleeding immediately. 

Aaron meets your gaze over the doctor's head, eyes wide and in similar fashion as your own, and he knows it’s an adverse reaction to shocking pain but he starts giggling. Aaron Hotchner doesn’t giggle, really. He laughs, and sometimes when he’s with Jack that laugh can get super loose and high, but this is a bona fide giggle. 

You try to gasp in shock but you’re laughing too. “Aaron,” you reproach.

He holds his breath as the doctor presses gauze to his face. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he says.

You snicker behind your hand. The doctor presses gauze to his face and rolls her eyes. She likely does not get paid enough. 

“You’re still handsome,” you say giddily. 

“Oh, well that's good.”

There’s a small silence rife with tension, and when it breaks it bursts like a dam. You laugh so hard you end up clinging to his arm, chest pressed to his bicep. He strokes the back of your head with a wobbly hand, wondering how miserable he’d be if you weren’t here with him right now. 

“What happened to keeping all your blood inside your body, Hotchner?” you ask, delighted. 

He beams at you dopily. “I’ve never been any good at that.”

You kiss his forehead. The doctor is furious. 

༺༻

[moonstruckme]

Now that your requests are open I need more ceo Sirius content PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Thanks for requesting! You didn't ask for smut but it's what popped into my head lol, hope this is okay

cw: smut mdni, semi-public sex

ceo!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 636 words

“Baby.” Sirius’ voice is low and smooth. Compelling. “Let me see you, dollface.” 

You struggle to pick your head up from where it’s dropped off the edge of his desk, finding your boyfriend watching you from his plush chair. 

“There’s my girl.” He grins, eyes glinting with humor at your flushed face. His hand strokes up and down your thigh, a soothing touch that’s completely at odds with the mess of slick between your legs. 

It doesn’t seem particularly fair to you how casual he looks. Sirius is relaxing in his chair like he’s sitting in a meeting, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair tied in a loose bun like he might’ve just pulled it back to have his lunch. Meanwhile, you’re spread half naked on his desk, seeping wetness onto the varnished wood. 

His fingers dip into you, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit, and you make a choked sound. 

“Breathe,” Sirius reminds you. 

You roll your hips in search of more, but he stops you with a firm hand, pressing down just below your navel. 

“Easy, sweetness. We’ve got all afternoon, remember? Don’t want to tire you out too early.” 

“Sirius.” Your voice comes out breathy, teetering on the edge of a whine. “Come here.” 

He hums and curls his fingers inside you. You make a sound like you’re dying. You might be. “That wasn’t very polite, was it?” 

“Please.” 

He gives up the act easily, standing and bending with his fingers still inside you to lock his lips with yours. The way he kisses you says enough about how much he’s been exercising his patience, too. Greedy passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth. Deep, long kisses punctuated by little nips. You meet him all the way, half sitting up on the desk to be closer to him even as the butt of his palm works ceaselessly into your clit. 

You’re the first to break the kiss when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Sir?” 

Sirius sighs, but his fingers don’t so much as stutter inside you. He raises his voice to be heard through the door. “I thought I told you not to bother me, Len,” he says, a slight bite of annoyance in his tone. 

“I know, I’m sorry. But Mrs. Burke’s assistant called, she wants to move her meeting to three today.” 

Your chest starts to burn, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You keep a hand pressed over your mouth, terrified of letting out some small sound that could give you away. As if on cue, Sirius’ fingers curl inside you again. Your thighs start to tremble.

“What happened to two tomorrow?” 

“She’s had to cut her trip short and will be leaving tonight. Three’s her last availability.” 

Sirius frowns, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall. That means he has to have you out of here and have his office cleaned up in an hour. His eyes meet yours, flashing with challenge in a way that has your shaking worsening. He smiles, wolfish. 

“You can let her know that’ll be fine,” he says. “Thanks, Len.” 

He waits a few seconds for Len to go from the door, then takes your chin in his hand. “What’d we say about breathing, doll?” 

You finally let the air escape you. Sirius watches amusedly, fingers still moving in and out of you at an indolent pace. 

“Should I go?” you ask once you catch your breath.

Dark eyebrows flick upwards. “No,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “Didn’t you hear Len? My meeting’s not until three.” He bends close to your face, a lock of hair that’s escaped his bun brushing your cheek. “I reckon we can get at least two good ones out of you before then, don’t you think?”

[simp-ly-writes]

Chapter Two: Trust

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.3)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: As the days pass-by with your stay in Hazbin Hotel, your relationships with the guests only grow. New faces beside old from histories past as you navigate the options that this new chance at living provides you.

Warnings: 5002 words, mentions of violence Nonconsensual touching and mental health, possible gore and death.

A/N: this one is action packed people, buckle your socks on and turn your crocks to athletic mode- we are moving this plot forwards!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

When you wake up the next day and sit at the bar, half-listening to the new set Angel Dust is performing later tonight as you swirl you fresh cup of tea, dipping your biscuit ever so gently and watching the ripples that your actions create. Becoming lost in the small pattern you summon forth your blade, standing on the bar top as Husk voices his complaints while grabbing the cloth once more to clean up your mess. 

Charlie comes running from underneath the stairs screaming, your blade is pointed to the direction just behind her, teeth bared as you growl in wait. “Woah, woah, woah, there hotstuff- what has you so turned on?” Angel Dust comments, stopping their vivid descriptions for the moment to observe your attacking stance. 

“Everyone! My dad just called and I have a meeting with heaven-or well Adam!” Charlie announces as your shoulders fall, blade dipping and eyes going wide. You shake your head furiously annoyed at the King's decision- she was going to be torn to shreds if she went to that meeting. “Princess, what exactly did your father say?” You question, now sitting on top of the bar as your legs swing slightly back and forth. 

In that next moment Charlie ignores your question and breaks out into song as Vaggie chases after her, “I can do this! This will be a happy day in hell~” “Charlie, this is only a meeting,” her girlfriend resorts but the princess is unlistening as she runs out the front of the door, dancing her heart out, twirling around lamp posts and before you know it, she is out of sight. 

You place your elbows to your knees, head in your palms as you grip out the remainders of your hair. “Husk- I am going to need a glass of wine” “coming right up.”

--

Lucifer had locked himself away in your study once again, a remaining staff member placed a tea set in the small living room before exiting. The King sat with his back to the door, tinkering away with his latest installment of duck- this one would read out the first chapter to your history book. Tinkering with the voice box and animating the feet to walk in circles, the King rested his head against one of his hands, eyes turning closed, “Chapter One: The Fall…” 

The King did not know he had fallen asleep soon afterwards, day and night mixing together as every waking moment appeared as dull as sleep. But at least when he rested, in his dreams he saw you, waiting there for him, wanting to hear about his latest inventions and revolutions. You never bowed nor kneeled for him, only sitting beside him with bright features and not a speck of stress. 

Yet this latest dream world he found himself slipping into while sitting at your desk, the duck all long forgotten to the shiver that ran down his spine. Ghostly finger tips trickled lightly down his shoulders and spine, coaxing it to relax as he hummed out- stretching to receive more like a needy cat. He relished these touches, it was as if these hands knew of every vein in that area- sparking them to light as he practically buzzed with content. Yet the touches got lighter and lighter before becoming only a drifting thought, an illusion that had the King shivering cold when he awakened once again. 

--

You did not know how this video camera had been placed in your hands but you followed every command that Vaggie ushered, from angle to the zoom, you were practically a breathing tripod as you filmed each section to the new commercial in production. 

The camera shook as you did your best not to laugh at the dead-panned look that Husk was giving you down the lens, rolling his eyes as Vaggie yelled “action!” once again as you listened to the tape roll. Alastor leaned down beside you, watching the small screen with a humm, “I still think radio is better- don’t you?”

“Cut! What the fuck, Alastor. I already told you- no talking while filming!” Vaggie outbursts while crossing her arms and tapping her foot rapidly against the carpeted floors. “Ah well all the more reasons that show how useless this technology is,” the Radio Demon responds before turning around and slipping into the shadows without a trace. “Action!” is yelled to the set once more as you stand still, awaiting the princesses return. 

--

Charlie comes back through the Hotel doors, turning around to shut it softly behind herself as tears slip silently down her cheeks in frustration. She knocks her head against the wood before groaning and turning away, jumping up slightly in shock as Vaggie pulls her into a hug. “How did it go? Did they listen?’” Vaggie questions while pulling away and grabbing her hand, walking them both over to the sitting room where the rest of the hotel's inhabitants wait. 

As the Princess tries to come up with lighthearted words to convey the utter disappointment she faced during the meeting, her stumbling of words is overshadowed by Vaggies excitement as she pulls them down to a couch in front of the television. “Alastor pulled some strings and it is about to air.”

“I pulled a few limbs too” Alator teases out with a dry laugh, you stand beside his chair and pluck a hair from his head as he whips his head around, a smile growing in menacing size as your’s mirror his own. A joy fills you to the brim watching as it falls and he faces straight once more. 

“You guys made a new commercial?- thats, that's amazing!” Charlie states, tears welling behind her yellow eyes as your own crinkle at the edges. But just as the commercial begins to air, the news channel flickers over top with a screeching woman yelling, “BREAKING NEWS” over the still image. “Extermination day is coming sooner than expected as the hour glass falls faster than ever-seen before, be prepared because death is coming to us all in the new year!” the announcer comments before the screen fades to black. 

Everyone looks around at one another before Angel Dust lets out a singular, “Well fuck.” That leaves the whole room laughing, partially at the blunt tone and the other for the impending doom that haunts every minute that ticks by. 

--

After some much needed sleep on the recent news, Charlie calls every down for a team meeting back in the sitting room. “Well… we are just going to have to work faster and try harder- team!” Charlie states while standing up in front of the group, clapping her hands together in order to hide the trembles knocking around her skin. She bites her lip, a small drop of gold falling and burning the run below as Vaggie wipes the rest away. 

“Charlie, you are a great friend you know but all of hell is losing their complete shit after the broadcast- even my boss,” Angel Dust comments as his phone blows up. You watch as the Spiders head fluff furrowing into itself, their fingers quickly moving across the screen to reply. 

“Well sinners are desperate… desperate enough to try anything just like this hotel!” Vaggie adds. “That is an amazing~ idea!” Charlie replies, now jumping on the heels of her feet as you rub your face tiredly, sipping your tea as you observe the scene playing out before you. Angel Dust pats a seat beside them, sticking up their leg as you cringe back in disgust. 

But just as you are about to take that next sip, the wall behind you blows out, pieces flying around your head as your cup shatter and you swear out, “fucking Hell. Can’t even drink warm water without someone pissing in it.” 

Your angelic spear appears in your hand without a second thought as Alastor teleports beside you, a sinister smile dictates the static electricity ringing through the air as every hair on your body stands at attention. You call for the Princess to retreat with Vaggie and Angel Dust as the Radio Demon rises with his coffee in hand, pissed to see the stain left on his tailored jacket. 

Sir. Pretentious commands the vessel, hissing violently as he points in your direction, “Your powers have grown since last time Alastor, animating the dead I see? Well those powers are no match for me and my egg army- you’ll see!” 

“Who are they?” you yell out to Alastor, snapping your fingers for a tentacle to appear from the ground, bursting through the ships window and casting forth the snake's body as they become pinned down by the point of your spear. Alastor hums out, extending his hands forth as a put emerges and engulfs the ship hole. 

“No-one important, deer. Such miniscule names only take up valuable space in our minds,” Alastor states before spinning on his heel and heading back inside the Hotel, humming a tune. He only pauses as you state back in a blunt tone, “You did not answer my question, or have you forgotten who I am, Radio Demon? I need the name for records.”

“I did not know you were still working for the King, General. Thought you were dead-no?” the Overlord resorts while inspecting the cuffs of his suit. “What can I say, I live to serve just as much as I die.” 

“Sir. Pretentious, is that all?” 

“Yes. Thank you,” you finish the conversation with as Charlie yells for you to let the attacker go. With one small cut against the serpent's neck, you watch as he slivers down the hill and back to the city core. 

--

To say you were surprised would be an understatement when you opened the door, mere hours later to find Sir. Pretentious waiting for entrance, his hat in his hands and a few straggling eggs in tow. You roll your eyes, not bothering for a weapon as the man holds up peace signs to make your eyes roll. Charlie allows the former attacker inside as you keep a close watch from behind, taking a place just outside the room by leaning against the main staircase, listening in. 

“I didn’t come looking for a fight, when I heard that you were helping people on the picture box- I came straight away!” He hisses out while taking a seat. Charlie lights up like a holiday display as she moves right into bonding exercise while Angel Dust voices his complaints against the entire situation at hand. In doing so, you retreat slowly back to your room.

--

You awaken to the sounds of hurried slivers dashing down the hall and closing a door to Alastor’s study just a bit too heavily. The Radio Demon was out hunting tonight, what- you did not bother to know, only nodding as he left. 

Sir. Pretentious stood with his back turned to the door, a camera he was setting up between the various books that littered the shelf had you growling out in displeasure. “And what do you think you are doing, you absolute snake?”

The door clicks open behind you once more as Angel Dust’s eyes go wide to the scene and the sight of you in night clothing as your skin only slightly peaks out, glowing in the moonlight. “You slippery little shit, working for the ‘V’s’ are you?” the Spider questions out, slamming the door closed behind himself. 

Angel Dust throws a punch as you stand back, letting them fight before various footsteps can be heard approaching from down the hall. You pull the pornstar back, locking their arms in your own, “if you wanted to hold me so closely, you only had to ask baby~” Angel Dust purrs out to you as you old fast, face unmoving as Charlie analyzes the damage. 

The Serpent cries out, knowing himself to be a failure as he drops the watch from his wright and slams the camera broken by the spine of a book. He sits on the floor defeated as you let go of the Spider- the room now in a still. “Make it quick,” Sir Pretentious states, tipping their head in your direction as you look to Charlie for confirmation. 

She holds up her hand as you make no moves to summon forth a weapon. Vaggie and Angel Dust begin their protests as your mind begins to drift off into another memory, fading away from the current as Charlie begins to sing a song of forgiveness- it falls dead on your ears.

--

You find yourself in the dark void once more, the ground before you ripples, matching the patterns found in your teacup from mornings before. The dripping of water can be heard, growing in volume before becoming that of a waterfall pouring over your head. You gasp from the cold drench it covers you in, clothes sticking to your form as you shiver and grasp to conceal warmth. 

You venture forth, as each step you make disturbs the pattern underneath your feet, hundreds of mini ripples how overpower the larger steady ones as a flicker of white in the corner of your eyes has you gasping and turning to meet it. But just before you can it blinks out of existence and reality comes crashing back as the waterfall catches up with you, basking you in its frigid waters once more. 

--

“But sorry is where it begins~” the Snake and the Princess sing out together in harmony as your berings return to form. You stumble slightly, grasping the bookshelf behind you for support as Angel Dust looks over their shoulder, gun falling to their side as they cock their head- a silent asking if you were alright. You only nod once before making a wobbled stand and exit the study back to your room to take shelter underneath the covers. Under their warmth, sleep cannot find you as your eyes stare upwards, glossing over the intricate lace designs covering the canopy bed. 

Time had become a blur as a week has already slipped by from that restless night that joined many others. You were fading in and out more as the days went by. Now you were found nearly asleep on the bartop as you listened to Husks baritone grumblings that soothed your ears. 

Sir. Pretentious was giving a presentation on his latest invention, the lack of attacks getting on his nerves as he anxiously invented weapon after weapon in his hotel room. Vaggie spoke out against these actions as Charlie was visibly struggling to come up with a learning opportunity from this outburst. “People are being nice because they want you to feel welcomed,” the x-eyed woman states with crossed arms as the Snake hisses out in contemplation to these words.

He looks around the room to find Husk cleaning a glass beside your head as he flips the bird and Angel Dust follows suit. Nifty only mocks his lack of aggressiveness, proving her point by stabbing a nearby bug that has the reptile rears back in fear. “I have my doubts about that…” he finally answers back. Yet these would be the least of his worries when it is announced that Charlie would be taking away his weapons stashes and eggs as Alastor would find a way to house them temporarily once back from his break. 

A glass being slammed against the bartop has you standing for attention before glaring at the cat-man when no danger is in sight. “Sleep in a bed, not at my bar,” he simply states before taking in the new boxes of alcohol from the door and unpacking them against the back display shelf.

--

As you make your way back up to your room, using the elevator as your powers flicker from the lack of rest or sustenance once more. Alastor is there to greet you with a wide, yellow smile when the door chimes open. “You arrived just on time- we are leaving for a meeting,” the overlord sign-songs to you before entering the elevator and clicking the first floor. 

You stand beside one another without making any glances, “And why would I do that?” you question.

“I feel as if history is repeating itself- haha!” your eyes roll at this statement before crossing your arms, looking upwards as the numbers tick down. 

“You are my new Right-Hand, are you not?” Alastor questions out with a crackle in his voice. 

“When did you become royalty? Never thought you to be the type to like being-”

“A-A-Aah!” Alastor tuts out with the wave of a finger, as if mocking a child. You move to bite that finger before feigning innocence with wide eyes fluttering like nothing happens, rejoicing at the terrified shutter that makes its way down his spine. 

“So… who are we meeting exactly?”

--

Alastor provided no further explanation as you followed beside him,a  few shock gasps coursed through the street before the Radio Demon silenced the crowd with the raise of a hand. Your back arched forwards slightly, anxious off all the attention in such close proximity- it felt suffocating. A body nears behind your own as your finger curl together in a fist, turning around sharply you see Zestial tilting his head down towards you, his lips curl upwards as he offers a kiss to the back of your hand. 

“How art thou, peacekeeper? Thy return could not hast came at a better time.” You smile up at the ancient overlord, your friend older than that of the King and Queen as you unravel your fist. Alastor leans on his microphone, as a light buzz appears in the air, his smile softens only the slightest bit as he leans forward to ask, “Doing well, old friend?” 

Yet Zestial pays no attention to the man, attention solemnly on you and your answer. “As best as I can during times like these, you comment on how my timing is good- how so?” You fix the cuffs to your coat as you speak, flicking off small bits of flesh that have been offered to your group as you near a large modern tower. 

“An answer yet to be discovered,” Zestial finishes before opening the door for you and Alastor with a small bow as you voice your thanks in return. When entering the lobby, various elevators zoom past you, carrying overlords from far and wide as your palms begin to sweat. You lean towards Alastor, harshly whispering in his ear, “Why the fuck have you brought me here, Alastor. All of these demons would gladly hand me in for favour.”

“And that is where you are wrong, deer. You see that your presence is the least of the group's concerns when extermination is on the horizon. We have souls to keep and screams to feed our ears,” Alastor speaks aloud while pointing to a chair near the top of the table for you to sit at. 

Various eyes cast their way over your form, taking in your appearance with greedy eyes and cash-grabbing smiles. They know of your price dead or alive, for nobody was present at your royal funeral. But other than their looks, no actions rose out from the crowd, glued to their seats in wait. You take this as your cue to investigate the room, raking through your mind each of their atrocities throughout history and the tallied souls they keep. 

These numbers you count serve as comfort in your head, leveling back on the facts you pride yourself on creating and upholding. Yet the more you find yourself dwelling in the past, the greater your heart aches to return to all its known. All those court hearings you attended way back when that happened in a similar fashion. Just this time you got forced into a seat at the table rather than standing at the judges side, whispering in his ear your opinions to be voiced. 

Oh the simpler times, you think to yourself. Those starting moments before you would go on to take over those meetings in his place as Lilith’s pregnancy continued. A slam of the door has your attention swerving back as you grip the table for reassurance. 

“Welcome Hell's sovereign overlords. I have invited you all here because you represent millions of souls tied to your very name. Souls that will be taken by the extermination in only a few months time rather than by our own claws,” Carmilla Carmine states, hands casting over the table to point at each individual in the room, her finger swirls overtop your head before she continues. 

“We need to minimize the impact and on that matter, Alastor and… General. Welcome back,” she states in a thoughtful tone until the door slams itself open once again as you wince at the holes forming from the impact. A short, pony-tailed woman stands on top of the table, walking over to an extra seat with a phone glued to her ear. You wince at the obnoxious accent she carries, “yes I know Vox-darling, they are ALL a joke. Kisses, see you soon!”

“Nice of you to be joining us, Velvet- will your colleagues be joining us?” Carmilla asks with annoyance coating every word. Velvet rolls her eyes, throwing her phone on the table while leaning forward to cast a series of insults as you look to Alastor and question out, “I apologise for sounding like a broken record in advance, but who are they exactly?” 

Alastor’s laugh is projected throughout the room as a head-grinding ring echoes in everyone's mind until the room is silent once more. But just as the deer-man is about to speak, an Angels head gets casted on the table, hopping animatedly before stopping just in front of your hands. Gold pours out from its slashed neck as you wince, going to grasp your own. 

“If these holy rollers can be killed, well the game has changed,” Velvet announces, seemingly taking over the meeting as your head cat's back and forth between the two women like a tennis match. 

“We not know how this perished. May it be not by a demon's hand after all. If we rush to war- they purge all of Hell,” Zestial retorts while sipping his tea loudly, he casts his eyes between you and Carmilla worriedly of your reactions just as the table erupts to their own smaller conversations on the matter at hand. But just as Velvet shoves a finger his way, Carmilla's chair scratches against the tiles, grating your ears once again as Alastor’s twitches in displeasure. “You have no respect…” Carmilla starts with before entering a lecturning display against the smaller woman's apparent arrogance to the room's guests. 

You applauded Carmine’s performance as she casts you a split second smile before Alastor adds on, “That was a productive meeting, now we really must get going, who knows what Hell has spawned at the Hotels door this time-hm?” You nod once in reply, going through the room to shake hands with everyone, even Velvet who wipes her hand on her shirt afterwards, looking you up and down for a second as your eyes begin to flicker red for the faintest second until Alastor throws you both through a door back to the Hotel’s lobby.

--

You were not surprised in the slightest to find the Hotels events room staged with a BDSM act. Blinking twice before entering the room, a tall feline figure wrapped their tail around your waist, purring in your ear as you stood still, glaring at Angel Dust. Alastor had left you in his dust the split second after seeing into the room but you were glad to see Vaggie pulling Charlie away from a pervy succubus- hell bent on having the royals attention. 

The feline’s eyes narrowed sensually in your face as they curved around your figure tighter, a claw of theirs drifted its way up your arm and towards your neck. Elbowing them in the gut, their groan of pain was the only pleasure you had found in that room before Vaggie announced another way for the Hotel to build trust in one another. You looked towards the Princess at the mention of this, catching her eye for a moment before stepping through yet another door way- this one led you to a burning battle ground.

Screams emerged from every crack and crevice as your hand twitches, readying yourself for an attack. Vaggie appeared to hold no qualms while an arrow just skimmed by her head, Charlie yelled out in horror- eyes flashing red before the demon that ceased to exist behind the group. “This is where I learned to build my trust, and I will see to it that you ALL find the same,” Vaggie announced while pointing her spear to each and every one of you. 

In the next moment, hotel guests were being thrown over the wall and dispersed into the war zone below. You sat on the ledge, waiting to step in as an anxious Charlie sat beside you, swinging her feet back and forth as she winced at Angel Dust’s apparent enthusiasm to gutting a man. Vaggie was a prominent force on the field, you smiled watching someone command such strength- helping others and with these thoughts in mind, your head tilted towards the Princesses and you spoke. 

“Thank you,” you start with as Charlie’s eyes meet your own, narrowing the slightest bit to show her confusion. “What are you thankful for?” She asks, her feet still kicking as she searches your eyes for an answer. 

“For being the person your mom would respect and the person I wished to be if only I held more strength. Thank you, Princess…” you trail off with as tears spark in your eyes, Charlies feet still, falling against the brick wall as she looks away from you, her eyes squeeze shut as her own tears mirror your own. 

“What were they like?” Charlie timidly asks, “What were they like before me? I read your journals and books, yet they never brought me any closer to understanding- they feel like such different people now…” She trails off, the wind picking up her golden strands as a few stragglers hit your face. 

You lean forwards, trying to catch her eyes once more as you state, “Both your mother and father were wonders to behold- time will never change that…” your voice trails off, trying to choose the right words and describe the correct moments for a time like this. “I did not truly know them for my first century in hell but on that day when a raven that would soon become my own descended from the red skies above- ushering me forwards- I allowed them to. They were spirited even with their dreams taken away. The Queen held onto enough hope for the population of Hell as your father sculpted her every word, it was the only beautiful sight to be held in Hell and the first demons could only respect them for it. Without their leadership, their sacrifices…”

You struggle to continue as Charlie's eyes dart around, trying to come up with a new topic of conversation. “Why did you call my parents by their titles, why do you address me as such? You all were friends- were you not?” Charlie asks while playing with her hair, she is shy about this question before hurriedly speaking up once again, “It is is personal-erm, private! It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me!” 

You laugh at her cuteness before holding up a hand to stop her rambles, “I was still a servant to them-'' Charlie bursts out into laughter, she grips her chest as tears form around her eyes again, “Now THAT is a lie,” she states while wagging her finger in your face as your face falls to one of confusion. 

“My parents LOVED you, they just loved you- simply put. Not as a servant, not as a child or friend. They fell in love with you… and it was when you died, that love they shared died too…” Charlie takes a deep breath as you are at a loss for words, eyes wide in processing the information. “...you may not know this but my mom began to hate you, hate that even with you gone, you were somehow a consistent presence. She-she told me one day that even I made her remember you along with some other words and a week after that she left… a-and I haven’t seen her since.” Charlie cries out, falling into her lap as her breathing becomes staggered. 

You rub up and down her back, humming out to soothe the girl as she grabs your white jacket, knuckles turning white. In muffled tones, she still speaks, “my dad loves you- still does I am sure of it, even when we do not speak he always shows it. You were the last topic we talked to each other before I left… the last time we hugged…”

You lean your head down, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair before pulling it out of her eyes, “I am sorry, Princess Charlie…”

“I am sorry too…” Charlie picks herself off, her smile flickering at the edges as she fixes her hair, “next time my father is around, whenever that will be… promise that you will at least look at him even if he does not notice. You deserve to see yourself loved, I am sorry for what I made you blame yourself on and sorry that you ever thought to be only admired for your work- I am ever guilty of it among many others.”

You nod your head, agreeing to her words without being able to find your own. The battle gradually slows from underneath your feet as Alastor comes to greet you all- a feast he has prepared back in the Kitchens as the group cheers, dropping their weapons and hugs emerge. Everyone chats, celebrating their victory as glasses chime in tune. You raise your own towards Charlie as she tips her to do the same. 

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

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[tojiwrd]

5: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru

pairing gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.

content warnings mentions toxic family, mentions of forced marriage, emotional infidelity, bad friends (:((), and i think that's it! lmk if i missed anything

word count 3.7k

a/n i think this is my fav chapter so far lov you guys sm thank you so so much for the support on this!!

send thoughts ↞ prev next ↠ to be added to taglist

Spending more time with Suguru after months of occasional contact was easier than you assumed it would be. You, usually accompanied by Reina, would go to his art gallery in the evenings with a cup of coffee for yourself and him. It seemed too similar to old times, but you always chose to ignore the video reel of memories that pressed play as soon as you opened the glass doors to the gallery of how you and Satoru went there for the mere purpose of annoying Suguru.

This was one of the days your elbows were resting against one of the thin marble tables in the basement—which, you had to admit, was crafted to perfection to be Suguru’s space in his gallery—and mindlessly scrolling through your phone while he worked on his laptop. 

“Yo.” You heard him call from his desk just a few feet away from you. “I have to run out to pick up a late shipment. I’ll be back in like—twenty minutes? You can stay here, we'll meet up with Nanami once I get back.”

Nanami Kento was another new addition into your life, and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most exciting one. It wasn’t that you hadn’t heard about him before—you had, occasionally from Satoru who was his acquaintance back when they were classmates—but he was fresh and new which made it a lot easier to open up to him. You, Kento, and Suguru had plans for dinner tonight with Reina, too, who backed out a few hours ago because her mother had arrived from her month-long trip. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go ahead,” you replied, sending him a small smile over your shoulder as he gave you a short wave, gathered his car key, and went upstairs. 

You just continued swiping through your phone, replying to some text messages from earlier this week that didn’t particularly mean much. You’d spent the past few days at home to only sleep, choosing to spend time with Reina, Suguru, and Nanami. You had been in touch with Shoko, too, but hadn’t found a time to meet up with her since she’d gone abroad for an internship for a couple months. Still, it had taken you a long time before you finally began talking to the friends you had that were connected to Satoru. 

You heard the small ding of the sound the system made when the door before the basement unlocks through the keycard and furrowed your brows. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since Suguru left, there was no chance he was back. It was followed by heavy thumps of footsteps going down the stairs, and you only had to see the black lace-up shoes to know who it was. 

You wanted to scramble for your things and hide underneath a table, but you didn’t have enough time because Satoru saw you the exact moment his face came into view when he stepped on the third-last step. 

“O—Oh. I didn’t know you were here.”

You tried to clear your voice, to pretend that this situation was no big deal. Of course, running into your boyfriend of three years and fiance for a few more months who broke it off with you on a random Tuesday was, in one way or another, a big deal. “He left to get a shipment. I don’t think he’ll be back soon.”

For some reason, for some fucking reason he walked closer to you. You had said that Suguru would take a while because you wanted Satoru to take the hint and leave, not so he could step towards you—closer and closer till you could look into that sea in his eyes almost clearly— and take a seat three chairs down from you. No. You didn’t want him near you, especially not after the night on the balcony. 

“Guess I’ll wait, then.” His voice was honey. It was so smooth, so soft that your ears would feel warm whenever he spoke. 

“You can just call him.”

There was always something you believed when it came to Satoru ever since he began pursuing you before your relationship: he was persistent. He would leave little notes all over your room that you’d find in drawers days after they’d been placed, asking you to go on a date, to give him one chance. Some notes, you found days after you went on said date with him, and that was when you realized how he truly was persistent. It wasn’t just when it came to you, though. When you, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko went to a bar with an indoor mini golf area, it had taken all three of you to manipulate the ball’s trajectory when he wasn’t looking just so he could pass the hardest route. It was two in the morning and you were ridden with sleep—it wasn’t your fault. When Satoru put his mind to something, he almost always achieved it. 

“No point. I’ll just wait—I haven’t seen him in a while.” Just as you knew, Satoru wasn’t backing down. 

You didn’t know his motives, and you’d tried really hard to not dig deep into his actions to try to find out. Satoru always haunted all your questions, he was like a ghost within your body constantly testing you, trying to get you to question why he did what he did. 

You remembered that you and Satoru were once a blank page, not an entire book that had come to a tragic, unfulfilling end. You tried to erase every word, but they were written in pen and the traces always lingered. So, the only thing you could do was close the book and keep it somewhere far from your sight, but you couldn’t do that when he showed up in front of you. Not as a ghost but as a person, reminding you he was still here, real and moving, and he had pieces of you that you would never get back. 

“I’m leaving,” you murmured, deciding that you had the choice to leave it all behind. To leave him all behind. He could haunt you from within, but you couldn’t let him materialize once again into your life. 

“Y/N, stop,” he said, arms reaching out to you when you walked past him to go to the staircase but stopping as though he realized it was wrong. 

And you replied, “What?” because even though you knew you shouldn’t, a part—a big part—of you was still left in his car where he asked you for the engagement ring. A part of you still couldn’t let him go entirely because you were never good at leaving things behind.

“I want to… apologize,” he began, running his fingers through his unkempt hair. He lifted his hand when you opened your mouth, beginning to say something, and he said, “You don’t have to say anything, okay? Please, just give me five—two minutes of your time. I just need to talk to you.”

And like he told you to, you didn’t say anything because if Satoru wanted to talk for five—two minutes, then you would let him. 

“I got married,” he said, as though he was in a daze within his own mind. You scoffed, but didn’t say anything. “And that… that was fucked up. You didn’t deserve hearing about the engagement three months after I ended ours.” 

Although it was all true, although you had relived all those moments inside your head, hearing Satoru say them made them real. This wasn’t Reina helping you get over him, this was the him you tried to get over for months. It was humiliating knowing he knew exactly what he did, though there was no doubt he didn’t before this. He knew better than anyone how you felt without talking to you because he was there, holding your hand when a stray tear left your eye as if he was still yours.

You still didn’t say anything.

“I met Hana a month before I ended it with you.” You weren’t sure you could hear this. If somebody held a knife to your chest at that moment, you probably would still stand still, completely silent because there were no words left in your mouth. “I didn’t intend on getting engaged with her, Y/N. I meant it when I said I felt I couldn’t be tied down but—” He paused, as if he didn’t want to continue. 

And he didn’t continue, at least for a few minutes that felt like long, grueling hours. 

“But she was new, and I hadn’t felt that… newness for so long. Not since I’d met you. And she said things, Y/N, that made me think we couldn’t get married, that we couldn’t work.” His eyes looked at your face, and it was equivalent to a thousand needles piercing your skin because he waited for you to say something, to agree? But you couldn’t, not even after he had broken you completely and left you on the side of the road like you meant nothing. Because in your stupid, twisted head, you could have worked. If he wanted. 

He continued, taking your silence as a cue. “When I ended it with you, I—I didn’t want to. I swear. You deserved better, and I realized that I didn’t deserve to be anywhere near you. I couldn’t look at you without feeling guilty about the second-thoughts I was having because another girl made me rethink.”

This wasn’t what you expected today, was the only thought swirling through the tendrils of your mind.

“You don’t have to say you understand because I don’t either. I’m not sorry for ending it with you, Y/N, because you didn’t deserve me after all I did, after all I thought about us. But I am sorry for lying to you and, in a way, making our relationship seem meaningless because you probably thought I moved on too quickly.”

“You did,” you said, surprising yourself with the finality of your words. But you couldn’t take it back now that you had made yourself an almost-coherent member of this conversation.

“What?”

“You did move on, Gojo. Too quickly. I don’t think that, I know that and you do, too.”

He tugged his lower lip between his teeth, and you looked anywhere but at his downcast face. It was hard to admit it to him because you couldn’t stop your words, not when he was piling on brick after brick preparing to tumble it all down with you on the other side. If you stayed there any longer—

“I liked Hana then, but the marriage wasn’t what I expected.” You leaned back against the wall, placing some more distance between the two of you. Satoru seemed as though he was clutching at the flimsiest of straws to keep you there, to let you let him talk. “My father—he pushed for it and after losing you, I didn’t fight against it. I thought a marriage like this would hurt less than us getting married and—”

“And what?” you prompted.

“And having to end. I don’t know—I didn’t want us to fail, Y/N.”

You smiled wryly, understanding there was nothing more left for him to explain. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s… it?”

“I didn’t question why you did what you did before, didn’t try to get answers. I’m not going to change after you’ve given me those answers I never asked for.” At that point, you were looking to find any words to make a swift exit, but you still remained rooted in your spot. 

He sighed, fingers reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re saying you would rather not know?”

Of course, you wanted to know, but you had kept yourself from looking for answers. You knew that whatever ran below the surface of Satoru’s flimsy, no-good, unbelievable reason to end your engagement would hurt, and you were always good at taking what he said at face-value. Obviously, you were right but that didn’t grant you the satisfaction of a person whose beliefs were just proven right would. 

“I’m saying I’m over it, Satoru.” Your voice was convincing enough. "And if you want a successful marriage, maybe you should tell your wife that you got involved with her while you were engaged to me. I'm not the only one who you should be apologizing to."

As soon as you turned your back towards him and headed for the stairs, the door on top clicked open and Suguru gave you a wide smile and wave when he saw you on the other end.

It was funny, real fucking funny, how on a random Tuesday, every question that had plagued your mind like a ceaseless tornado over almost two years was answered by the harbinger of pain himself. You had been so deeply lost in your own soul, and even a person drowning felt uneasy when pulled back up into the air. Satoru pulled you out and now, he stared at you as if he was a friend who offered you a single piece of a chip because you were starving while he ate an entire packet of it. You weren’t sure how he felt but, with the way he looked at you, you were sure that some immature, adolescent part of him that’s growth stunted in middle school truly believed he had done you right. By telling you the truth two years later. 

You didn’t notice Suguru had walked down the steps and taken notice of Satoru and was now flashing his eyes between the two of you as if you were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. You weren’t. 

“Satoru, man. What the fuck are you doing here?” Suguru asked, and you should’ve made your way up the stairs and away from them but you stayed put. Your mind somersaulted, making excuses for yourself to yourself that you had plans with Suguru anyway, and you would leave with him once he makes Satoru leave.

“I just wanted to hang,” Satoru replied, shrugging his shoulders. 

Suguru inhaled a deep breath and you could see the corners of his ears turning a dark, angry shade of red in annoyance as he stared his friend down. “Just leave for now, dude. I’ve got plans.”

You didn’t look at Satoru, but you felt his gaze on you as his footsteps reached closer to the stairs. You moved, not wanting to have any unnecessary contact with him. As he reached you, he halted his steps and looked at you and you could have buried yourself right then into a hole because you hated this. 

“I know I’m not in the position to ask for anything but I want to tell you, again, that I really don’t want you to hate me. We don’t ever have to talk again, if you don’t want to, but please don’t hate me.”

You looked at his eyes, then stared at him for a moment longer. You laughed, it was bitter and held a certain form of venom you had never shown Satoru, at the sincerity in his features. “Say what you just said but slower, just so you can also comprehend how utterly senseless you sound.”

A hint of annoyance flashed across his features before he tamped it down and shook his head. He started heading up the stairs, not bidding Suguru or you a goodbye, and you sighed in relief. 

“Y/N, I—” Suguru started, but you cut him off by pushing him by his shoulders in annoyance. “Woah, woah. What did I do?”

“You didn’t tell me!” you exclaimed, your voice finally coming back to you after whatever-that-was. “He cheated, Suguru! And you didn’t tell me.” You were saying your thoughts exactly as they leaped through your mind, barely comprehending that you had resorted to punching—albeit lightly—Suguru’s chest as you closed your eyes. 

Everything was blank, and for a moment you were convinced you had lost a wire inside your brain throughout this entire ordeal. 

“Hey, listen,” Suguru said, his arms reaching out to gently grab onto your shoulders. “You kept on saying you don’t wanna dig deeper and all that bullshit once the two of you broke up. And you were doing good, Y/N. You know how long it took you to start acting like yourself again? Four months. I didn’t want to ruin your process because you were healing.”

You gritted your teeth and said, “You had no right, Suguru. And you had no right to assume when I moved on because it didn’t take me just four months. If your—if your fiance cheated on you and didn’t tell you, I wouldn’t keep it from you.” Your voice trailed off as you stared into his eyes, and that was when you’d realized you truly couldn’t rely on him because he was Satoru’s friend first and yours second. 

You had—in great fashion—run away from Suguru’s art gallery before he could even form a defense to your words. At that point, you were sure he wouldn’t be showing up to dinner with Nanami because that would not be a good moment for the three of you. You had dug for your phone and texted Nanami, telling him that you’ll be at the restaurant in ten minutes to which he’d instantly replied saying he’ll be there in five.

It didn’t take long for you to drive and reach the restaurant, which is why you were sitting across from Kento who looked more curious than anything. You tried to avoid his watchful gaze, though he didn’t say anything. That might have made it tenfold uncomfortable because he often came to his own conclusions, without asking any questions, and ran with them. 

“Stop staring,” you muttered, fingers absentmindedly flipping through the menu. “And decide what you’re going to eat.”

“I already know,” he replied, unmoving with his stare. 

“You and Geto fight?” he asked as soon as you’d both placed your order with the waiter. He raised a brow when you tilted your head, feigning confusion. “You can tell me, I don’t give a fuck.”

You laughed at the lightness of his words. “Why do you think we fought?”

He let out a chuckle, barely audible, and took his phone out. “Because he isn’t here? And because he texted me and said ‘sorry, can’t make it.’ And he said you two were coming together and his text was sent the same time you said you were on your way.”

“Okay, genius,” you drawl, resting your arms casually on the wooden table. “I guess it could be considered a fight,” you admitted.

His eyes flickered with the slightest hint of interest but it was gone the next second. “Oh, yeah? Lover’s quarrel?”

“God, shut up.”

“Don’t go thinking I’m God just yet,” he muttered, a smirk playing on his full lips.

You threw the napkin in front of you at his face which he, unfortunately, caught with his hand. “Me and Suguru aren’t even friends like that,” you said, almost believing it. Truth was, it was the heat of the moment and you wanted to clutch at every strand of dignity to make it seem like what Suguru did didn’t hurt, alongside with what you now knew Satoru did, too. 

“Uh huh,” Kento sarcastically went along. “So what happened?”

You debated on whether or not you should tell him the entire story, knowing that he was friends with Suguru and sort-of knew Satoru. But there wasn’t anything wrong with confiding in a friend, right? You chose to give him bits and pieces from the day—about how Satoru, your ex-fiance wanted to talk and give you a whole rundown of how he pretty much fell in love with another girl while you were engaged—which slowly got you talking about the few months after the breakup and Satoru’s new engagement. By the time the two of you were about to order dessert, you had told him pretty much everything—not without being prompted though. As soon as the two of you moved on, he’d say something like that fucker’s so stupid. What did he say after that? It was almost like a conversation with Reina, but with Kento it felt different. 

He’d look at you every so often while you talked, a glint present in his eye that usually wasn’t there. He’d run his fingers through his blond hair and slightly lift the direction of his eyes to meet your eye, and if you hadn’t been shit-talking your ex’s best friend, you would’ve felt the warmth radiating through your body under his gaze more. 

“I meant it,” Kento started, chewing the last bit of the cake you forced him to order. “That Gojo kid is stupid for that shit.”

You laughed, biting your lip to contain the blush that crept up your cheeks. “Calm down, otherwise I might start to think you like me.”

He looked at you with a blank stare then tilted his head to the side, as if trying to read you. “You’re dumb.”

“What?”

“You actually think I’m not interested in you?” he asked, then laughed as if it was the most preposterous thing he had heard. You thought about it for a moment, and realized every attempt at flirting he made, you brushed off as a joke. That’s just Kento, you’d kept on saying to yourself. You’d ignored every attempt he made because the waters after a three-year-relationship were tumultuous, and it was never your first thought that Kento was truly interested everytime he made a comment slightly suggestive.

It took you a moment to realize you still had to reply to him, and in that moment you allowed yourself to feel the warmth underneath his gaze. “What?”

“I’m not saying I’m about to drop to one knee and propose or something. I’m just telling you there’s interest present.”

You weren’t surprised; only Kento could make something that people always shy away from saying seem so easy. You smiled. You weren’t sure if this could work, and you weren’t even sure if this conversation would ever lead to anything in the future, but it felt like a welcome recess from every other part of the random Tuesday. For a moment, it was easy to forget Satoru, Satoru’s betrayal, and Suguru’s behavior. Kento had come into your life during, what you’d consider, a limbo period where you were still navigating the almost-two-years-ago-breakup and its aftermath. He was fresh, and he was new. Perhaps that was the newness Satoru was talking about.

And maybe there was something innately weird about Kento, someone who was interested in you, to listen to you talk about your ex and then tell you he’s interested in you, but you’d always been a fan of the unexpected.

“Don’t go all quiet,” he murmured, twirling his glass of water around absentmindedly.

“There’s interest on my end, too.”

[auratux]

Hii it’s me -🥰

Could we get office sex w diluc (and whoever else u want..maybe zhongli ??? Idk)

of course you can !! i love it when my heart anon requests <3 I hope you enjoy!!

i love zhongli i LOVE THAT MAN

cw: praise, pet names (good girl), mirror sex (diluc), impact play, established relationships, characters 18+, f!reader (lmk if you see something and I missed it!) || unedited/ not proofread

diluc

in front of Master Diluc's desk was a mirror attached to the door. He said in the past the reason why he added a mirror to the door was so he could see the faces of those he refused to do business with. He enjoyed seeing their saddened and disappointed faces.

It only drove him to think that he was the best in the wine business - which he was.

but now it held a different cause.

"So big," you choke out, knees buckling at every thrust, his balls slapping against your cunt, the move leaving a stinging sensation that would add when he kept his motion.

diluc's hand comes down on your ass, feeling the warmth the spot emits from his harsh touch. he rubs small circles on it before repeating the same action - to which you cry out every time.

his fingers move up from your ass, up your forearms, and to your elbows. they curl around it, pulling your arms back. you were now in his upmost control.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," he groans, pisitoning his hips into you. his skin is on fire - his forehead glistening and small red strands stick.

the first few buttons of your shirt were undone, revealing the delicate white lace of your bra yet it only did so much in covering your tits. with every move, they threatened to spill out and he didn't mind if they did.

Through lidded eyes, you gaze upon the mirror, instantly embarrassed by the sight.

your face was flushed, your skin trickling with sweat and your tits almost showing. the bottom of your shirt was ruffled and hitched up to your mid-stomach and your skirt was no longer even on your body.

Your arms were pulled back behind you by your lover who was burying himself deep within that you called out his name.

"don't you look beautiful?" diluc asks, meeting your eyes within the reflection. his hot breath against your ear causing goosebumps to arise, the hair on your arms standing ever so slightly.

"Y-yes," you mutter, tugging on your lower lip and hanging your head down.

a noise of annoyance leaves him as he slows his hips down and he shakes his head when he hears you while - yet he can feel the movement of your hips, pathetically trying to get him to move.

"I want you to look at yourself," his hand reaches forward, grabbing your chin and forcing you to stare at your reflection. "you can do that for me, yeah?"

zhongli

"The director is right below us, you wouldn't want her to hear us, right darling?" Zhongli whispers, his gloved fingers squishing your cheeks together. "If not, I suggest you stay silent."

You whimper underneath him, legs sore and aching - twitching at every pump of his hips. your face aches from the hold he has on you, but you love how he shuts you up like this.

the head of his cock bruises your cervix with every thrust, your walls gladly accepting him and squeezing him tight. over and over, you take him in and swallow him for all he's worth.

the director, Hu Tao, was gone for business (more like on her break but she likes to call it business) and wasn't going to be back for a while. turns out she ended up coming back early with a call of her name as if she announced herself to her consultant and went directly to her office.

"zhongli," you moan out, pussy fluttering around his cock. his veins brush against you, every sensation sending pleasure through your body that it was certain you would pass out from the stimulation.

"Feels so good," you sputter, drool cascading down your chin and onto his gloved finger.

"Yeah?" he pants, hanging his head and gazing at where you connected. his eyes lock at your pussy, loving how puffy and perfect your clit was.

his spare hand wanders down your body, pinching the small bundle of nerves that has you crying out in ecstasy, your nipples erect, and taunting him to take one in his mouth.

"shut up," he grunts, suddenly sticking two fingers into your mouth but not enough to choke you. "suck," he demands, his eyes clouded with lust and the desire to see you at your lowest point.

with doe eyes that shimmer from the light above and the glossiness of tears, you blink a few times before running your tongue around his fingers, flattening underneath the pads.

the taste of leather fills your mouth and the texture of his gloves adds all to the sensation. you moan around his fingers, never breaking eye contact with him.

"what a good girl," he moans out, eyes squeezing shut, inhaling sharply. "such a good girl."