#but honestly it seems like most people at the office are like this as well

[interlagostrack]

I feel like I've had a cold since the end of May

[anthromimicry]

the duality of misao being one of the few psychiatrists in arkham that has actually made progress with some of their patients and treats them like human beings, but also someone who does a complete 180° later + EATS her patients and gaslights people who ask about them into thinking they were never committed there is currently making me go feral. like girlll why are you like this JSJSJ

[starmapz]

wolf in sheep's clothing || s. gojo

❦ satoru gojo x female monster hunter reader || werewolf au

❦ oneshot

❝ most parents tell their children stories of fake monsters to scare them into staying in bed at night. your father told you stories of real monsters to train you for your career hunting them. it's that career that brings you to a small town reporting disembodied limbs and missing people. it's here that you spend your days flirting with the cute coffee shop owner with stunning blue eyes during the day, while your nights are spent setting traps and preparing silver bullets. of course, life has a funny way of making things complicated, as your day life and night life begin to collide unexpectedly. ❞

❦ content ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. f!reader. little bit of angst. hurt/comfort. graphic depictions of violence and death. use of guns and bear traps. rough sex. dominant!gojo. feral!gojo. neck kissing. nipple play (f! receiving). biting/marking. oral (f! and m! receiving). fingering. spitting. throat fucking. choking. implied edging. manhandling. unprotected. hair pulling. dirty talk. dacryphilia. use of pet names (detective, sweetheart, pretty girl, gorgeous, love). praise. creampie. stomach bulge. cervix mention. restraint (using hands). impact play. mating press. doggy. overstimulation. sort of monsterfucking? descriptions of minor medical procedures. no use of y/n. happy ending. kinda porn with plot? gojo's a lovable dumbass <3.

❦ words ; 22.4k.

masterlist

It’s not unusual for your phone to ring in the dead of night. Such is the life of owning a private investigation firm.

It is, however, unusual for that phone to ring.

Your eyes flicker to the landline that rings in place of your cell phone. You keep it paid and connected for the more gruesome side of your business. Sure, you do take regular jobs, after all, you have to keep the bills paid, but the true purpose of your business is a far more dangerous practice.

Your fingers glide along the smooth plastic of the phone as you answer with your name.

“Hey there, um, I’m hoping I’ve reached the right number.”

You sit upright in your chair, pulling your feet down from your desk. “That depends. What service are you looking for?”

“I- well-” the masculine voice on the other side of the phone stammers, at a loss for words. “I don’t know, honestly. I was referred by Higuruma.”

The man can’t see the way your brow raises at the sound of your former client’s name, intrigued. “Go on.”

“I own a forestry business. A week ago my employees began disappearing. The cops can’t seem to find anything and I’m down twelve employees,” he explains. “This morning I found- uh-” he hesitates again. “I found limbs.” His voice is hushed, as though he believes you’ll pin the crime on him.

“Sounds like my kind of job,” you purr over the phone, pulling out a pen and notepad. “My rates aren’t cheap,” you warn.

“I’m… aware.”

“I assume you aren’t in the city.”

“No,” he confirms, giving you the name of a small town a couple of hours away. “I’ll pay for your hotel.”

“Great,” you confirm. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a dramatic clang, you replace the phone in its rightful spot, gather your belongings, and grab your briefcase. Popping it open, you evaluate your options. Given the time of year, you pack an extra case of silver bullets and tuck your gun into its shoulder holster beneath your brown leather jacket before taking off.

–

Sunlight warms your skin as you exit your client’s office. It’s clear he’s aware that he’s likely dealing with something he’s never seen before and he’s reluctant to admit many of the details. You don’t often get clients who aren’t nervous, between the inherent danger of your job and the situations they’re likely in. Not to mention the hefty fee you demand.

Your client had given you permission to take a look around the property, as well as the location of the limbs, though he wasn’t willing to join you. Again, not unusual. Nothing jumps out at you about the property itself apart from the remote location. You assume in the early mornings and dead of night as employees are getting into work or leaving, they’re likely coming across their assailant with little to no defense.

The sight of limbs doesn’t bring you the same horror as it does your client. Throwing on your leather gloves, you shift the disembodied arm to get a better look at just how it was severed. Sure enough, the telltale sign you were expecting to find is there.

Bite marks beyond the size of even the largest bear, flesh torn so viciously no animal could have done it.

A werewolf.

The closest thing to a malicious animal. With the full moon having just passed and the season turning from winter to spring, it’s not unusual for the beasts to begin popping up, specifically ones that are unable to keep themselves under control.

With the sun still high in the sky, you figure there’s no use waiting around in broad daylight for a monster to show up and head back into town. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone and you’re certain you stick out like a sore thumb. There seems to be one central road with most of the businesses laid out along the street and houses and motels extending off of the street on either side.

It’s a cute little town. In another life, you could picture yourself settling down and enjoying somewhere like this, maybe owning a bakery or a small tourist shop of some sort.

But your dad raised you to kill monsters. Not bake bread.

You shake your head at the thought, perusing the nearby shops until you come across a small bakery and cafe, which sounds pretty good right about now. Maybe in another life you could have worked here.

A small bell rings above your head as you enter the shop. The overhead lighting is warm along the autumn brown walls with deep red accents. Fresh-baked buns and other treats line the shelves along the walls and a counter extends along the back of the shop. Stools line one half of the counter and a couple of tables sit along the far wall. There’s a comforting sort of air to the shop as the smell of sugar, wheat, and coffee paint your lungs.

A small smile pulls at the corners of your lips as you make your way to the counter. The shop is empty as far as you can tell, which makes sense for mid-afternoon in such a small town, though you can faintly make out shuffling sounds in a back room.

Barely a moment later, a tall man clumsily makes his way out of the back room with a tray of fresh pastries, still hot from the oven, laid across it. The pastries smell of cinnamon and saccharine sweet sugar, though not as sweet as the man himself looks.

White hair cascades over his head, falling just past his eyes, which are the most enticing shade of blue you’ve ever bared witness to. He’s tall, shockingly so, and his bicep muscles pull the fabric of his pale blue button-up taut in a way that has you shamelessly staring.

“Sorry, didn’t hear the bell!” He apologizes, setting down the tray on the counter and brushing his hands off on his apron. He runs a hand through his hair in an effort to get a better look at you. “You’re not from around here,” he comments, eyes trailing just as shamelessly across the length of your body.

Well, now this trip got a little more interesting.

“I’d take it you don’t get many tourists here…” you trail off, your eyes flickering to his name tag. His name is scribbled in messy handwriting. “Gojo.”

“Can’t say we do,” he confirms, a smirk donning his sharp features. “Can I interest you in something sweet?” You catch the not-so-subtle connotation laced in his words as he leans forward with his palms splayed over the counter and a smug grin.

Returning his smirk with a lidded expression, you tilt your head. “What did you have in mind?”

There’s a shockingly bright gleam in his eyes as though he’s thrilled you’re playing along. He has a sort of boyish charm to his happiness. “Well,” he hums to himself, turning away from the counter to pick up a powdered donut. “I think you might be a fan of our custard-filled donut,” he grins, his voice lowering somewhat as he continues, “they’re my personal favorite.”

As he holds the donut, he squeezes it and the white filling oozes from the holes his fingers make. The double-meaning behind his words isn’t lost on you as you roll your eyes with a scoff.

“Does that one work on every woman who comes walking in here?” You ask snidely with a raised brow.

“Guess not,” he chuckles somewhat bashfully, taking a bite of the donut himself before setting it down on the counter. “I’ll take that one off the list.”

“Good call,” you agree. “You’re lucky that wasn’t your first line with me, I would have walked out.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry about that,” he chuckles, “give me another chance?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of your lips. “Alright, Gojo.”

He grins, an infectious laugh rumbling his chest as his muscles pull the fabric of his shirt taut. “Great! Now, how’s an apple fritter or a cinnamon bun sound?”

“You know what, an apple fritter sounds great,” you agree, “oh, and a coffee please!”

“You got it, take a seat.”

The white-haired man turns away from the counter, washing his hands of the powdered sugar and custard from earlier as he busies himself with your drink and donut.

“Oh, shouldn’t I pay first?”

His head flips around as he shoots you the most handsome smirk, eyes crinkling at the corners happily. “Nah, I owe you for my shitty joke,” he chuckles.

You take a seat at one of the stools at the counter, curiously watching the man make your coffee. He moves deftly, flipping cups and switches with practiced ease and a calm expression you find yourself admiring.

It’s impossible to deny that he’s handsome, maybe even too much so for his own good given his horrible attempt to seduce you, though it was harmless in the grand scheme of things. All in all, he actually seemed rather sweet, much like the shop.

“Alright, one coffee, cream and sugar, and an apple fritter. On the house, of course.”

He flashes you that dashing smile, watching happily as you take a bite of the fritter. When your eyes light up and you tilt your head, his smile widens to a grin.

“This is good,” you tell him with a satisfied hum. “Did you bake it?”

He nods. “An hour or so ago.”

“Great suggestion,” you compliment between bites. “Maybe start with this one next time.”

He chuckles again, momentarily avoiding your gaze. “Noted.”

Comfortable silence falls over you both as you make your coffee to your liking, before bringing it to your lips. “You know, I’m starting to think your talent is wasted on a shop in such a small town.”

“Yeah?” He grins, perking up. “As much as I’d love to bring my shop elsewhere, I uh, don’t think I’m suited for the city.”

With a tilt of your head, you hum questioningly.

He just shrugs, glancing off to the side.

Ignoring the way he dodges your question, you change the subject. You’re not about to push a stranger for a response. “Wait, your shop? Do you own this place?”

He nods. “I have help on the weekends but otherwise it’s just me.”

“That’s impressive,” you comment, watching the way he perks up again at the compliment. He has a horribly puppy-like quality about his unabashed happiness that makes you want to pinch his cheeks. That, coupled with his striking blue eyes and gorgeous white locks- you might just be getting a bit ahead of yourself here.

Enjoying the bitter taste of the coffee in your hands, you take a moment to bask in the silence, letting Gojo return to his work. As the man busies himself with cleaning up and moving pastries between ovens, you pull out a folder with information on the case you’re working on.

Returning from the back room of the bakery with a fresh batch of donuts, the shop owner eyes you curiously. “What brings you out here anyway?” He asks as he begins shelving the fresh donuts.

“I’m a private investigator,” you tell him without looking up from your papers. It’s only a partial lie, mostly the truth in reality. Besides, it’s not like the average person believes in monsters.

His brows raise in surprise. “And here you thought I was the impressive one?”

You shoot him a glance, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” you brush his words off, keeping your head down to hide the obvious effect he’s had on you. Apparently you don’t hide your blush well enough, though.

“Not sure I believe you, detective,” he comments slyly, your cheeks further heating up as you’re unable to hide your smile.

“Not a detective,” you correct him. “Are you like this with all of your customers?”

He chuckles, though it comes out somewhat in the form of a scoff. “I think the old ladies would have my head if I called them anything aside from ma’am.”

You wrinkle your nose playfully. “I’ll have your head if you call me ma’am.”

“Detective it is,” he grins playfully as he finds a spot across from you again. He toys with the string for his apron as you narrow your eyes at him, but you don’t mind the nickname in truth so you let it slide. “So, looking into the disappearances, I’d take it?”

“Private Investigator, Gojo,” you scold him for prying, but he doesn’t let up as he grins at you.

“Nothing happens ‘round here, sweetheart. If you were looking into anything else, I’d be shocked.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. It’s clear that Gojo isn’t letting up, and in reality this side of your job doesn’t demand confidentiality, but you still don’t love to go around discussing details.

“Yeah, I’m waiting for night to fall to go back to work,” you admit, returning your gaze to the handsome man who’s now sitting at the counter across from you, pen in hand as he writes down numbers you can only assume have to do with the shop.

Unexpectedly, his oceanic blue eyes meet yours, swirling with something you aren’t able to identify. He almost looks nervous? “Night?” He repeats after you.

“Yeah…?”

“Alone?”

You roll your eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

His eyes widen as he realizes his words came across offensively. “No, I- I’m sure you can! I just-” he pauses, running a hand through his mildly disheveled hair. “Just be careful, yeah?” He sighs.

You tilt your head, your brow knitting together momentarily as you contemplate his words and mannerisms. Slowly, you nod, deciding to crack a joke to lighten the mood. “This isn’t Twilight Gojo, it’s not like there are sparkly vampires and pretty wolves out there to hurt me. Maybe a fox or deer, though.”

Gojo fumbles suddenly, his pen falling to the floor. He mumbles a curse under his breath, sighing as he picks it back up, clicking it twice. “No, no. ‘Course not.” He agrees, not looking you in the eye as he scribbles something over his notepad.

Huh, tough crowd. Odd.

“Listen, I’ll be fine,” you assure him.

He shoots you a half-baked smile, the atmosphere of the room suddenly strangely tense and you feel the need to escape.

“I should probably go,” you hum, glancing at the time on your phone.

“Oh?” Gojo seems somewhat surprised despite the sudden change in the air between the both of you. Regardless, he shoots you a more genuine smile. “Well, thanks for dropping by. I’d love to see you again.”

You pause, examining his features mid-way through shoving your documents into your bag. He seems serious and the odd tension is beginning to dissolve, so you let your shoulders relax, the tension slipping from them easily as the comfortable silence returns while you contemplate his words.

“I’ll drop by when I have some time,” you agree, smiling. The gorgeous blues of his eyes light up as you agree.

“See you around, detective.”

–

Flipping your flashlight towards the small painted marks you left on the ground earlier where the severed limbs had been laying earlier, you note that they’re now gone. Either someone found the crime scene, or the wolf assumed someone was onto him and cleaned up after himself.

Your grip on your pistol tightens as you point both it and the flashlight around the scene. The wolf is clearly experienced. There are no tracks, either pawprints or shoe prints, left behind and no blood either.

It’s strange, for a wolf so experienced to suddenly start causing problems in such a small town. You would have thought this would be an easy hunt, some new wolf that didn’t know what they were doing getting messy, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

Opening your bag, you grip the flashlight between your teeth and pull out a number of traps.

You set up a number of bear traps, careful to make a note of where you’ve placed them, before also setting a dart trap with a tripwire in small clearings, alongside a number of cameras.

Deciding you won’t get very far for the night if you haven’t already found evidence, you head back to your motel to get some rest.

–

The next few days are quiet. No traps are triggered, the cameras only trigger for the occasional rabbit or deer, and for that reason you find yourself conducting some interviews with the locals during the day before finding yourself at the bakery again.

The shop was much busier on the weekends you found, which makes you happy to see that it isn’t always so empty there, but it also left Gojo’s attention split between the shop and you. Of course you don’t mind, but you’re growing to enjoy his company, and even seek it.

Despite his unideal first impression, he’s a great conversationalist and undeniably attractive. You don’t make a habit of hooking up on the job, especially when you’re only here for a short amount of time, but it’s nice to not be so alone for once.

You expect it to be busy when you enter the shop on a Saturday, but to see multiple staff and nearly every table taken is unexpected. You order a coffee from a young girl at the counter, catching a glimpse of Gojo’s silvery white hair in the back room and smiling to yourself, deciding to take a seat. Maybe you can find a moment to talk with him later.

Setting yourself up in the corner, you pull out your laptop and a number of files as well as a recorder. Now that you’re able to plug the interviews into your laptop alongside some headphones, you can evaluate whether you missed any sign that someone may have been lying to you.

Going through the audio footage multiple times, while crossing all of your data together to see if everything matches, your day slips away from you and before you know it, the only light keeping your work table illuminated is that behind the counter.

So caught up in your work, you don’t even realize what time it is, nor that both young employees in the front have just said their goodbyes to the cafe’s owner after checking again if he’s sure he doesn’t want them to kick you out.

He’s sure.

You lift your head to your handsome counterpart as he pulls out the chair across from you with a smirk and slowly sets his large hand on the back of your laptop, pushing it down. Sitting behind your laptop, you can now see two plates with sandwiches on each. You blink up at Satoru, tilting your head.

“I didn’t order-”

“I know,” Gojo interrupts matter-of-factly with a warm smile. “But I also know you got here around-” he glances at his watch “-eight hours ago and haven’t eaten a thing.”

“Oh.” Your lips purse, continuing to form an ‘o’ as it dawns on you that you have been here that long. “Um- let me pay-”

Gojo shakes his head, smirking. “We’re closed. Consider it on me.”

Your gaze moves between the sandwiches and the smirk pulling at Gojo’s lips. His eyes sparkle in spite of the growing dark circles under his eyes after a long day. His hair is slightly more disheveled than usual and his apron is draped over the chair behind him. You don’t like to see him tired, but the disheveled look is surprisingly sexy on him. The blue shirt he wears has a couple of buttons undone and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, muscular forearms an easy distraction for your tired mind.

You don’t even mind that he catches you staring as he clears his throat with a satisfied smirk. Blinking, you return to the present and glance around the shop as it occurs to you just what he’s said.

“Wait, you’re closed? Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I should get out your-”

Leaning forward on those muscular arms, he sets a veiny hand on your forearm. “Stay, detective. Consider this paying me back for taking my extremely valuable corner table.” He grins with lidded eyes.

He’s all too easy to give in to and you sit back in your chair, accepting the plate he pushes towards you. Letting your shoulders fall to your side, you pick up the sandwich, observing it quietly before taking a bite, your brow raising cheerfully. “This is really good, Gojo.”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?” You stare at him quizzically.

“My name. It’s Satoru.”

You smile, grateful for not only his hospitality but his presence as well. Though the folks around the town are friendly enough, you really are thankful for his company. You don’t get to keep many familiar faces around in your line of work and bounce from location to location so quickly that any relationship you form isn’t particularly meaningful. You can’t help but feel as though you don’t want this to be the same.

Maybe it’s selfish to feel that way, but you can’t help it. Satoru’s presence is a respite from the harsh world you live in, one that’s free of the worries of what monster will sink its teeth into you next.

“Well in that case, Satoru, this sandwich is really good.”

His eyes light up with mirth as he grins. “I’d hope so. I make a living off of ‘em.”

Casual conversation finds you both easily as you fall into your usual routine of chatting with the handsome baker. It’s as though time stands still when you’re with him, suspended in a moment of contentment.

“How’s your case coming along?” He inquires curiously as he stands with both empty plates, eyeing you from behind the counter.

You sigh in exasperation. “It’s not. Everyone I’ve spoken to has an alibi or their story matches enough that I don’t think it could be them.”

Returning to his seat, Satoru curiously eyes the notes laid out across the table. “Well it’s not her,” he laughs as he points at a photo taken of an older woman.

You blink questioningly at him. “She’s cheating on her husband. If she was gonna murder someone, it would be him.”

You playfully smack his hand. “That’s awful, Satoru.” You reprimand his terrible attempt at a joke.

He grins cheekily, looking over other photos of people from around town. Come to think of it, his help could be useful if he knows everyone. “Is there anyone around here I should be talking to?”

Something flashes in Satoru’s eyes, gone so quickly you wonder if you imagined it. Hesitation? “Honestly, no.”

You grimace. “No one makes you think they might…?”

He shakes his head, a strand of snow white hair falling over his eyes. “Nah. The folks here are older for the most part anyway, a bit beyond kidnapping and murder.”

You run your hands over your face in exasperation. “This is easily the worst time I’ve had on a job.”

He pouts playfully, leaning over the table on his elbows. “C’mon, at least you have handsome company.”

“Real subtle, Satoru. Humble.”

“What can I say?” He grins, a proud look on his features.

You can’t help the smile that mirrors his as you give in to his incessant playfulness. In truth, it’s a breath of fresh air from the knowledge that hidden beneath your jacket lies a pistol loaded with silver bullets.

He’s a respite from the reality that you could very easily be devoured by a werewolf if you miss any details. Of course, you’re confident in your abilities but that is the reality of your line of work.

Still, as you look over the photos of nearly everyone in the town that you’ve spoken to, you’re somewhat at a loss. Werewolves don’t make a habit of hunting far outside of their homes, so it wouldn’t make sense for it to not live nearby. After all, werewolves aren’t like real wolves. They can’t live with ease in the forest, they still yearn for a real bed and human company.

You have explored the idea that maybe it is mostly feral, but you should have caught a glimpse of it on the cameras if that’s the case.

“It’s been nice,” you mumble after a moment’s silence. Gojo tilts his head, gorgeous blue eyes glinting in an almost inhuman way, but you suppose he likely gets that comparison a lot given just how striking his eyes are. “I mean… Having you around.”

Sitting straight, he smirks. “Gonna fuel my ego so easily, sweetheart?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late.”

He gets to his feet suddenly, extending his hand to you. You tilt look up at him quizzically. “C’mon. Let me take you out.”

Your cheeks heat up as you struggle to hide your smile and take his hand. Satoru grins easily, attempting to tug you along. “Wait wait, let me clean up!” You insist, giggling to yourself.

Satoru groans chidingly, staring at his watch as though you’re taking up his time. Once your bag is packed, you attempt to sling it over your shoulder, only for the man at your side to intercept and throw it over his shoulder.

You shoot him a thankful grin, taking his hand again and letting him lead the way out. “Where are we going, anyway?”

He glances back at you, his eyes glinting inhumanly again. Your eye twitches as you wonder whether you imagined it or not, pushing aside your doubts. Satoru is sweet to you, you have no reason to doubt him.

“There’s really only one place still open,” he smirks, batting gorgeous white lashes at you with a smirk.

“If you say your house or something stupid-”

“Ouch, first of all,” he chuckles at how low you expect him to go.

You scoff impishly. “Need I remind you of the donut incident?”

His cheeks heat up as he scratches the back of his undercut. “No need,” he chuckles. “Anyway, there’s an ice cream place a couple of blocks away that’s open late.”

“Taking me for ice cream, Mr. Gojo?”

“I mean, my house is open as-”

You smack his arm mischievously and he laughs heartily, the sound rumbling through his chest. The sound spreads warmth through your veins and you inadvertently find yourself walking closer to him.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Mostly,” he shrugs, unapologetic as he eyes your ass, though you decide to let it slide this time.

Turning the corner, a single shop with the lights still on comes into sight. The street is filled with broken neon signs and you recognize your motel just down the street, one of the few businesses with signs still lit. ‘Vacancy’ glows at the end of the street, a sight that feels like it may have been eerie without Satoru at your side.

Focusing on the little ice cream shop, you realize you were here yesterday interviewing the owner. She was a kind older woman, just as most of the townsfolk had been, although you had paid little attention to her occupation.

Getting a better look at the shop, you realize the decor is 80s themed, or more specifically it hasn’t been updated since then, although it seems well maintained and cared for. Blue striped walls and a cloth overhang welcome you into the dainty shop, soft serve machines lining the back and buckets of ice cream in a freezer at the front.

“Satoru, it’s good to see you, son!” The woman exclaims. He grins, greeting her in return. They exchange casual niceties and you realize Satoru likely does have a good idea of who everyone is if they’re all coming in and out of his bakery as much as today would have you think. “What can I grab for you?”

Satoru motions towards you as you gape up at the menu.

“The soft serve’s the best, sweetheart.” He purrs, leaning into your ear as he loops an arm easily around your waist. The contact sets your heart racing, keeping you warm in the cool shop.

“I’ll have- uh- the salted caramel soft serve, please,” you smile politely at the elderly woman, who pulls out a cone and begins to swirl the ice cream into the cone, handing it to you. She doesn’t even take an order from Satoru, repeating the process with ice cream so blue you can only assume it’s cotton candy or something similar as she hands it to the man.

Heading up to the counter, you pull out your wallet to pay. Satoru clicks his tongue, pulling your wallet straight from your hands and holding it well over his head as he pays with his other hand.

“Satoru! Give it back!” You giggle, hopping in an effort to reach it, but between his height and his lanky wingspan, you’re nowhere close to retrieving your belongings.

The kind woman across the counter chuckles in delight, her eyes shut and wrinkling at the corners happily. “Enjoy, darlings.”

You smile thankfully at her, resting a hand on Satoru’s very built chest that has you reeling mentally as you reach for your wallet. Grinning at you, he finally relents, handing it back to you. “I invited you out, you aren’t payin’,” he reprimands you with lidded eyes that flicker down to your lips as he gets closer to you.

Taking your wallet back and shoving it in your coat pocket, you smile gratefully at him. “Well, thank you, then.” Eyeing his ice cream, your brow furrows. “What flavor did you get?”

“Superkid.”

Wide-eyed, you stare at him. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” he pouts in mock offense.

You can’t help the laugh that bursts from your chest as the handsome man beside you, your date, orders arguably the most embarrassing flavor. Somehow the man competently running a successful bakery and cafe is the same one standing before you with a boyish pout and a mouthful of the bluest ice cream you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

“It’s good!” He insists, brow furrowed. “‘Sides, she ran out of my usual yesterday.”

“Your usual? What’s that, cotton candy with sprinkles?”

His eyes narrow. “Mochi,” he insists as he tugs you along to a bench just outside the store, pulling you down alongside him. He rests an arm over the back of the bench around your shoulders, nudging you to lean into him.

He’s warm despite not having a jacket in the autumn air. It’s not overly cold, but he certainly runs hot based on the heat radiating from his body.

“Moving on from my taste in ice cream,” Satoru remarks with playfully narrowed eyes, “tell me about yourself. What made you want to be a private investigator?”

“My dad was one,” you begin, staring out at the empty streets of the small town. The area near your bench is lit only by a streetlight a short distance down the road and the glowing neon of a busted sign for a pharmacy that closed hours ago. “He used to bring me along on trips with him from time to time, so it came naturally,” you explain most of the truth, only leaving out the portion about monsters and strange creatures. He doesn’t need to know that part, it’s safer anyway.

“He used to bring you with him?” He asks, somewhat bewildered. After all, it’s not exactly the most child-friendly job.

“Times were tough,” you shrug.

Taking that as a sign to quit pushing, Satoru nods.

“What about you? Have you always wanted to bake?”

He chuckles. “Nah, it just came naturally and was sorta to spite my parents.”

“Spite them?” You tilt your head up at him, admiring the sharp curve of his jaw.

“Gojo Corp. My parents own it, I was supposed to take over,” he frowns, fixing his eyes on the street light.

“In Tokyo?” You gasp, having not made the connection between his last name and the massive corporation.

He sighs. “That’s the one. I was meant to take over but that’s just… not for me. There were some other things that made it tough but either way, baking comes naturally to me so it just made sense,” he explains with a shrug. He stares down at the ice cream in his hand, eyes glimmering with the memory of his past.

“I think the bakery suits you,” you tell him. “You clearly have a talent for it.”

He chuckles, an easy smile finding his lips as he rolls his shoulders backwards and relaxes. “Thanks.”

As he speaks, you catch a glimpse of his tongue and lips and have to hold a hand over your lips in an effort to stifle your laugh, but your date feels your body shake with the held back chuckle.

“What?” Narrowed eyes examine your expression as he watches you burst out into a fit of giggles.

“Your, um, lips.”

He blinks inquisitively at you before the realization hits him. “They’re blue,” he deadpans.

“They’re blue,” you confirm between giggles.

He sighs in exasperation, unable to hide his embarrassed smile. “God, I didn’t even think about that.”

“No, no, it’s nice. It matches your eyes. It’s like lip gloss,” you simper.

“Great,” he groans with an unamused expression, though the glimmer of joy in his eyes tells you otherwise. Even as he attempts to be unimpressed, he can’t help the laughter bubbling in his chest. Conversation, spending time with one another, silence, it all seems so easy in his presence.

As the night grows late and the elderly lady bids you goodnight as she closes her shop, you’re reminded that you’re here for a reason and glance down at your watch. “I should get going. I need to do some work,” you tell Gojo.

His eyes flash with disappointment, but he nods. “Let me walk you to your motel?”

“How gentlemanly.”

He grins, offering you his bicep. You take it happily as your cheeks heat up. Of course you don’t want the night to end, but you can’t miss your chance to do your work.

As you reach your door, Satoru turns to you, taking your other hand in his. Lidded eyes glimmer as they rake your figure, hungry and eager. A shiver climbs your spine like lightning as heat pools in your stomach. Although goofy and carefree, there’s something undeniably alluring about Satoru.

“You know, detective,” he purrs as he leans in closer to you, eyeing your lips. “You haven’t interviewed me yet.” He takes a step forward, resting his hands on your waist as he examines the way your body molds to his, pliant to his suggestive touch.

“Is that so? I seem to remember asking you some questions at dinner,” you tease, playing his game.

“I’m pretty suspicious, you should see my taste in ice cream,” he insists, eyes flickering to your lips hungrily. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer, his warmth radiating against your skin.

“That is pretty suspicious,” you agree, tilting your head to give Satoru access to what you both yearn for. His lips capture yours, moving softly as his sugary taste invades your mouth. He deftly wraps an arm around your lower back, one hand raising to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth as he tilts your chin with his thumb. You slide your arms up his chest to his neck, loosely wrapping them over his shoulders.

You press your thighs together, a light gasp escaping your lips when Satoru pulls away. His pupils are blown, the blues of his eyes nearly invisible behind their lust-filled glimmer.

He examines your expression, searching for something, anything, whether it’s denial or an invitation. He hopes for an invitation.

“Satoru?”

He hums.

“My key card. Back pocket.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he groans, sliding his arm from your waist to squeeze your ass before he pulls the card from your pocket. You let your fingers explore his undercut, fisting a handful of his hair when the door behind you swings open and Gojo pushes you in, pressing you against the closed and locked door. His lips don’t leaves yours as your bag slides off his shoulder to the ground with a thump.

“Jump,” he commands into your lips, voice darkened with lust. You hold tight around his shoulders, jumping into his arms as he supports your thighs with strong arms when you wrap your legs around his waist.

Finally parting from your lips, he presses sloppy and eager kisses up your jaw before nibbling on the sensitive skin at the base of your neck. He pulls a whimper from your lips, that one sound acting like fuel to the fire that is Satoru. His teeth sink into your neck, breath coming out in huffs as he stumbles to move you to the bed.

You gasp at the feeling of his teeth marking you, raking your nails down his clothed back. You move to unbutton his shirt, eyes raking the length of his toned figure. He’s muscle as far as the eye can see, far more built than you can possibly imagine for a baker.

His chest heaves with want as he leans back down, gripping the sheets beside your head in his fist. He runs his tongue once soothingly over the mark he’s left on your neck, returning to your lips.

He slips his hands under your jacket before pausing, confusion flooding his features. “Is that a gun?” He asks, breathless.

Sitting up on your elbows, you shuffle out of your jacket and unbuckle your holster. “I’m a PI, Satoru.”

“Right. Yeah, sorry.”

You set it aside carefully, examining the way Gojo seems somewhat shaken by it but one look at the tiny tank top that’s the only layer between him and your chest has that dark look flooding back into his eyes.

He moves slowly, almost teasingly, as his fingers hook beneath the straps of your tank top, slipping them off your arms before sliding the tank top over your torso. He lets out a terse breath, admiring your curves and the way the moonlight flooding the room glistens on your gorgeous skin like glass.

“Shit, I’m one lucky man,” he whispers, letting you pull him down for a sultry kiss before exploring your chest with his lips. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you moan as he nibbles and sucks on skin, leaving marks all across your chest until he reaches the swell of your breasts.

Like a beast let loose, his teeth suddenly sink into your plush skin, pulling a cry from your lips in surprise at the feeling. Even more so as it feels good when the warmth of the flat of his tongue soothes the pain so gently afterwards. He looks up to you to make sure he hasn’t truly hurt you, before continuing with his ministrations as he sucks your nipple between his lips.

His tongue swirls the sensitive hardened bud, your moans like music to his ears that drive him on as he flicks your other nipple with his free hand. Your name leaves his lips in a moan when you tug on his hair. Completely drunk on you, lidded eyes lift to meet yours. He admires your blissful expression only for a moment before moving upwards to capture your lips in a kiss.

“Do me a favor, detective,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath fanning your face between each word. “Take my belt off.”

You do as you’re told, not needing to look at what you’re doing to tug the leather strap from its buckle and let it drop to his feet. You follow suit with your own clothes, pushing your pants down to your ankles and kicking them off.

“Good girl,” he purrs in your ear, nibbling on your lobe momentarily as he easily undoes your pants, pulling them to your ankles before tossing them aside. You use the opportunity to wrap your legs around Satoru’s waist and tug him closer. He shoots you a lustful grin, wasting no time in grinding his hardened length against your soaking wet core.

Moaning, you press your thighs into Satoru’s sides, bucking your hips in an attempt to relieve the pooling heat growing steadily in your core, soaking your panties. “Shit, you’re wet for me, sweetheart.”

“Shut up, S’toru,” you whisper breathlessly, bucking your hips again. Leaning over your figure, he grins as he watches your eyes roll back when he grinds his pulsing cock against the swollen lips of your cunt again.

“Make me,” he taunts in a low, almost animalistic, growl.

You waste no time carding a hand through his hair before gripping a fistful of snow-white strands. You push his face down until he’s eye to eye with the wet spot pooling in your panties. Satoru breathes in shakily, eagerly licking a stripe up your clothed pussy.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he breathes, hooking two fingers beneath the fabric as he attempts to pull it aside, ripping it in the process. “Oops,” he mumbles unapologetically, pulling what remains of the material off and tossing it aside.

“Wh-”

Before you have the opportunity to question him, he dives in like a man starved, a long and skilled tongue ripping a gasp from deep in your throat as you arch your back beneath him. Satoru’s tongue moves deftly deep in the chasm of your cunt as he explores your folds, pussydrunk eyes watching your every reaction to see what makes you squirm.

You wouldn’t have imagined the baker of a small town in the middle of nowhere to have the tongue of a god, but he may as well be ruining all other men for you already.

Plunging his tongue deeper into your entrance, he nudges your clit with his nose, eliciting a loud moan from you as you gasp his name like a mantra, one fist tightly holding his head flush to your core while your other fist grips the sheets.

The way Satoru moves his tongue sends you diving quickly towards an orgasm, the knot in your stomach binding and tightening every second as your thighs tighten around his head. He groans at the feeling, tugging your thighs down with strong arms until you’re completely at his mercy, unable to do anything but buck your hips.

No man has ever eaten your pussy quite like Satoru and he knows it. With one last slow ministration, he pulls his tongue from within your core, licking his lips with a pleased hum. He pulls back only for a moment, eyes focused on your expression as he spits onto your cunt, blowing on your entrance like the tease he is.

“T-Toru-” you gasp, arching your back further. He grins, dipping back down to suck your clit so perfectly you almost come undone right then and there. When your whole body jolts from sheer pleasure, he lets go with a pop before using the flat of his tongue to bring you back to the edge, slower.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans against your clit, moving one hand from its place holding down your thigh to run his pointer and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick as you whimper at the friction. “Cum on my fingers,” he goads before licking one slow stripe up your clit.

As you whimper out his name while writhing beneath him, he takes the opportunity to slip one finger in your cunt, curling it as he watches how you arch and squirm so pliantly for him. His middle finger easily glides into your core with a squelch that has Satoru groaning against you, setting your entire body alight. With two long fingers, he curls them until he finds the spot that has you singing his name, your eyes rolling back as you cling to him, to the sheets, to anything your fingers can find.

“Sa- toru-” you babble, earning a groan in response when you tug on his hair. “‘M so close.”

“Let go, gorgeous,” he purrs, the vibration of his voice sending electricity up your spine as he quickens his ministrations. The knot in your stomach tightens and with one final ‘come hither’ motion, applying just the right amount of pressure to your g spot, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. Your whole body trembles in his grasp, your legs quivering around his head as he works you through each jolt, each wave, of your release as you whimper helplessly.

Laid out so pretty beneath him, he can’t help the pussydrunk grin he shoots you, resting his cheek against the plush of your thigh. “I could get used to hearin’ you scream my name,” he comments slyly, getting to his feet and giving you no time to come down from your orgasm.

You yelp when he grabs you by the ankles, tugging you to the edge of the bed. You’re too blissed out to notice the way his pupils glint in the moonlight as his voice lowers, suddenly dark. “On your knees,” he commands with a smirk.

You obey, entirely pliant to his touch and too fucked out to resist his dominant commands. Your lidded gaze doesn’t leave his as he eyes you needily, palming his erection through the tent of his pants.

You waste no time as you free his cock from the confines of his pants and boxers, letting both fall to his ankles on the floor before you as his cock stands alert. Your eyes widen as you take in the angry red of his cocktip, leaking and twitching for you. He’s long, and thick, protruding veins pulsing with need that goes straight between your legs, already dripping for the man before you.

“Look ‘t me,” he growls, letting his tongue glide over his lips as you run the flat of your tongue up the base of his cock, flicking the slit. He hisses, his head falling back in pleasure as he lets you tease him, swirling your tongue around his tip erotically. His mouth falls open, panting heavily with lust.

In truth, you could tease him for hours if it meant getting to see the way his body shivers and jolts with your touch, but with each minute movement, you know he’s one step closer to fucking your throat himself.

Bringing your hand up to the base of his shaft, your fingers not meeting as they around his thick length, you pump your hand up and down painfully slowly as you purse your lips. Smirking, you place a teasing kiss over his frenulum, pulling a guttural growl from the man.

Gojo’s fingers tangle in your hair, fisting it as he moves you back to his fat cock. “Don’t be a tease, gorgeous,” he groans, positioning his fat cock against your pursed lips. “Now be good,” he instructs. You whimper as you hollow your cheeks, sinking down on his cock and swirling your tongue around it.

“Shit,” he pants out a moan, not daring to let his eyes leave yours. You moan around his length as he finds the back of your throat, and just like that whatever restraint he had snapped. Like a predator staring his prey down, his hand in your hair pushes you into the mattress as he holds you still. Sinking his cock into your throat, he tests your limits as saliva slips down your chin, tears forming in your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises as he gives you a moment to adjust, pulling back to let you breathe with whatever restraint he has left. Gone as quick as it came, he snaps his cock back into your throat, prodding the back of your mouth and ignoring your gags, meanly using your throat for his pleasure.

His grip on your hair loosens and you use the opportunity to bob your head forward, moving in time with his thrusts as tears stream down your cheeks from the way you choke on his girth. Satoru growls, darkened eyes admiring the way you look up at him through fluttering lashes.

Satoru’s thrusts speed up, growing relentless as he approaches his high, his cock twitching as his thrusts grow sloppy. He releases your hair as he reaches his climax, holding your hollowed cheeks gently as his cock jerks between your velvety lips, his seed seeping down your throat.

“Swallow.” He pants out commandingly, tilting your chin to watch you better. A hint of a smirk pulls at the corners of your lips as you follow suit, your throat contracting around his member. His entire body jerks with the feeling of your throat closing before he pulls out. You loll your tongue out for him and he grins.

“Shit, you’re hot,” he whispers with a hint of disbelief, shaking his head. As you catch your breath, he leans down to kiss your cheek gently in a stark contrast to the way he roughly used you moments ago. He follows suit with the other cheek, kissing away your tear before using his thumb to wipe away the trails left behind.

Pulling you up carefully by your waist, he sets you on the edge of the bed, tilting your chin up to him. “Not too rough, sweetheart?”

“No, just fuck me already, Satoru,” you goad, pulling him down by his neck to capture his lips in a kiss. Your pussy is already pulsing in need of him and you aren’t about to waste any time when you’re still absolutely dripping for him.

He pulls back an inch only to chuckle slightly. “You’re gonna drive me crazy, y’know that?” He draws your lower lip between his teeth, gently biting down as he easily picks you up without disconnecting your lips and plops you further up the bed. With your head now on the pillows, he lines himself up at your entrance, pulling back only to look to you for consent.

Your hips buck involuntarily as you nod your head when you feel his tip brush your clit. Whimpering, you hardly hear the way his voice lowers again, growing commanding and impatient. “Words, detective.”

“Y-yes, Satoru,” you mumble breathlessly, gripping his shoulders tightly. He’s gentle at first as he glides past your puffy lips, biting his lower lip with a sharp canine. He’s slow as he sinks in, filling you up as he stretches your walls around his thick member. He’s slow to bottom out, sure not to lose control as he lets you adjust to his size.

He leans down to kiss your neck, nibbling softly in the tender area he’s already bruised a harsh marking into your skin. When you whine, he laps at it softly and places a gentle kiss on the purpled skin. Leaning over you, he holds himself up with his elbows and whispers in your ear. “Y’ take me so well, pretty girl.” His white hair drapes down over his forehead, tickling the sensitive skin he’s marked.

Just as he whispers such sweet songs in your ear, he begins moving and elicits a moan from you with his slow ministrations. His cock brushes your g spot with each and every thrust that sends you reeling as pleasure climbs your spine and pools deep in your stomach.

When you throw your head back with a whimper of “T-Toru don’t stop- please-” he absolutely relishes in the way you beg, setting his senses alight with need once more. Holding himself up on only one elbow, he runs his thumb over your lower lip, pleased when you part them willingly for him, taking his thumb between your lips and swirling your tongue around it with a moan.

Satoru groans gutturally, pulling his thumb from your lips with a pop and swiftly pulling out of you.

“What-?”

You don’t have time to finish your question as he flips you onto your hands and knees, pressing your upper body into the pillows before his hand lands on your throat. You have half a mind to wonder if you feel something sharp dangerously close to your pulse, but the feeling’s gone before you can think too hard on it and you’re too fucked out to care either way.

Placing gentle pressure against your throat, he holds you in place by your neck and positions himself behind you again, prodding your entrance with his tip. Without warning he slams into you, nudging your legs wider apart for him until he can reach your cervix, bullying his cock into you.

Your toes curl, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as he restricts your air, pleasure and pain mingling so deliciously as you teeter dangerously close to the edge. “I’m- hah- close,” you babble, gripping at the sheets beneath you for purchase.

“Give it to me,” Satoru moans, cock jerking within you. “Wanna feel you cum ‘round my cock,” he pants, relenting on your throat as he moves his finger up to his lips, wetting it and sliding his hand up your stomach, hissing as he feels the bulge of his thick length bulging in your stomach.

His slicked finger finds your clit as he rubs circles around the hardened bud in a practiced motion, pushing you closer and closer to your climax when it hits you like a tsunami. Your body writhes, legs quivering as you struggle to stay arched while Satoru’s name pours from your lips.

“Toru- T-Toru, god I-”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he coos, continuing to fuck you through your high as he chases his own. You squirm at the overstimulation as your cum forms a ring around his base, but he holds your hips firmly in place with a bruising grip as he picks up his pace. His nails dig into your skin, strangely sharp until he begins to grow sloppy and with one final thrust, unloads into your dripping cunt, painting your walls white.

He pants as he falls over your arched form, placing gentle kisses along the bottom of your spine.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

You chuckle breathily at his kind words. “You’re not so bad yourself, Satoru.”

“I think I was starting to like Toru, actually,” he whispers against your back, inhaling through his teeth as he pulls out. He stands back for a moment, watching your body slump to the bed as his cum leaks from your pussy, glistening illustriously in the moonlight.

Tiredly, you flip to look at him with a lazy smile. Satoru leans down, caressing your cheek before sliding his hand down to the swollen marking at the base of your neck. Your eye twitches, giving away how tender the skin is.

“I’m sorry, love,” he mumbles, kissing the skin with soft lips.

“It’s alright Toru, I can hardly feel it,” you smile reassuringly at him. Of course, you have yet to see just how marked up your entire body is.

Satoru hums, capturing your kiss-swollen lips with his in another soft kiss. “Is it bad of me to want another round?” He growls dangerously as his breath warms your face.

“Give me a day at least,” you laugh playfully, still feeling the effects of his bruising grip on your hips.

He smiles against your lips, but pulls back to grab a towel and get you cleaned up. When he returns, he’s careful to be soft and gentle with you, kissing your thighs as he cleans up the liquids leaking from between your legs.

He tosses the towel aside, standing with a furrowed brow as he stares around your motel room. His eyes trail from the deep red of the old blinds to the tacky forest green comforter you lay on.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I-” he pauses, seemingly gauging your reaction as he examines your expression carefully. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you tonight.”

You blink in surprise. You’d  honestly expected him to return to simply flirting at the bakery and keeping casual sex on the side. It’s not like you’re from here anyway, it doesn’t make sense to pursue anything more than casual, but the look on his face tells you otherwise.

You shouldn’t get attached, either, you have a job to do and you should be heading there now. Hell, you should have been heading there an hour ago. By all accounts, you should let go of Satoru and forget this ever happened.

Your eyes rake his body once, admiring the peaks and valleys of his sculpted abs and the sharp edge of his collarbones, landing finally on his face. He’s deathly serious for once, the knit of his brow such a cute sight that you’re not sure you can resist him anyway.

Besides, you would be lying if you said he didn’t just dick you down better than anyone in your life.

That aside, he’s handsome and sweet, has his life figured out and the idea of having feelings for him isn’t that absurd. You’ve spent a fair bit of time with him over the course of the week and everything felt easy with him.

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “Then stay.”

His eyes light up, swirling with galaxies of mirth and calm as he pulls his boxers back on and sits on the edge of the bed. “And for the record, I’d like to take you out.”

“Didn’t we just go out?” You ask, though you aren’t opposed to going out again.

“For dinner, not a sandwich I made or ice cream.”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your features. “I’d love that. Are you sure you don’t want to add bright green ice cream to the menu for our next date?”

“I’d sooner take a bullet to the chest,” he pouts, playfully sticking out his lower lip. The blue has been long gone since before you got to the motel, but you can’t resist teasing the poor man.

He runs a hand through his mussed hair in an attempt to fix it to no avail, getting to his feet to pick up your shirt and toss it to you to sleep in. You pull it on over your torso, crawling under the covers and holding them up for Satoru to get into the bed beside you.

“Tomorrow night? For our date?” He asks through a yawn, pausing suddenly. “I uh- wait, no, I have to work late tomorrow for a catering order on Monday. How about Monday night?”

“Sounds good to me. Will I still see you tomorrow?” You ask as he settles in with you, tugging your body to him by your waist until you’re flush to his stomach.

“I won’t leave without saying bye.” He kisses your forehead. “‘Sides, you can join me early if you want. Sit on the counter while I prep,” he suggests, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

You wrinkle your nose. “Sounds unsanitary.”

“I’m capable of cleaning, detective,” he snorts with a playful roll of his eyes that you can’t see. He kisses the crown of your head once more, lingering for a moment.

“Give me a half hour before you leave, I’ll come with you.”

“Wanna eat you out in the back room,” he mumbles into your hair through a yawn.

“That sounds unsanitary.”

He sighs dramatically. “Maybe.”

Comfortable silence falls over the both of you as your consciousness begins slipping, warm in Satoru’s arms. It’s the first time you’ve had the time and luxury to enjoy someone’s presence like this in a long time, and you’re thankful to be safely enveloped in his embrace.

“Goodnight, Toru.”

You’re met with his soft snores, held tightly to his chest. He feels like heaven.

–

Although your plans have moved back a day, with no movement spotted on the cameras you set up, you likely didn’t miss anything last night.

Trailing a small distance behind Satoru with a yawn, you aren’t sure you mind either way. As the sun rises and gleams off his snowy locks, you can’t help but admire him. His skin seems to glow, a smile set into his features and he walks with a pep in his step. He’s almost ethereal in the radiance of the warm morning sun.

He swiftly unlocks the door, locking it behind you and throwing his apron over his head. You pause at the counter as he ties it behind his back. Taking note of your hesitation, he smirks as he pulls you around the counter by your hand.

Easily lifting you to sit on the smooth surface, he plants a kiss on your forehead. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to the massive purple bite mark he’d left on your neck, something he seems all too proud of.

“So what’re you catering?” You ask to create conversation, struggling not to yawn. You may be on a job, but it doesn’t mean you have any reason to be up this early normally.

“Catering?” He asks, realization dawning over his features. “Oh-! Right, sorry. It’s just a business lunch but they requested enough sandwiches that I’ll need to stay late for the buns to bake,” he explains as he begins turning on appliances and getting the shop ready for the day.

You hum, not fully registering his words as you feel dangerously close to dozing off. “Do you have help today?” You query.

“Yeah, one of the part-timers should be here in about an hour.”

“I’m glad you don’t need to run this all alone.”

He slows his work for a moment, blue eyes examining you quietly. “Why’s that?”

You shrug, idly kicking your feet. “It’s a lot of work for one person. You deserve to be able to take a break.”

He straightens his posture as he grins at you. “You worried about me, detective?”

“You’re ruining the moment, Satoru,” you yawn, rolling your eyes as he kisses your nose. Returning to his work, he pulls out risen dough prepped yesterday and sets it to the left of you on the counter.

Whether it’s because you’re tired, horny, or both, who knows for certain, you can’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away from his muscular forearms as he kneads and works the dough into the shapes he desires.

Catching you in the act, Satoru chuckles. “You’re fuckin’ my arms with your eyes, sweetheart.”

“I’m not gonna stop now,” you mumble with a smile.

A faint tint of pink dusts his cheeks and he chooses to distract you by booping your nose with his flour-covered finger. You wrinkle your nose, playfully shoving his hip with your foot whilst you wipe the flour from your skin with the back of your hand.

The morning is quiet as Satoru works with practiced ease while you bask in the light that filters through the large front windows. You begin to fight off your drowsiness when you’re handed a coffee with just a bit too much sugar, something you’ve noticed the white haired man has a habit of doing.

With each sip, the caffeine coursing through your system brings you back into the waking world, just in time for one of the part-timers to knock at the door.

Flipping around to face the door, you hop down from the counter as Gojo asks you to open it for the young man. He’s dressed somewhat similarly to the shop’s owner sans apron, though you suppose that’s likely waiting for him. He has spiky black hair and a rather unamused expression.

His brow lifts when you unlock and open the door for him. “You’re looking different today, Gojo.”

“Ha ha,” Gojo rolls his eyes. “Grab your apron, the buns in the back are just about ready to go in the oven.”

The boy shoots you a more earnest smile after giving Satoru a hard time, which you return. As the young boy heads into the back, you turn your attention back to the white-haired baker.

“He’s got spunk. I like it.”

“All three of ‘em are like that,” he tells you with a smirk, though his eyes shine proudly as though he’s looking at his own kid. “Good kids, though. They work hard.”

You smile, glancing at your watch. “I’ve got some work to do. I’ll drop by tomorrow morning after you open.”

“Sure, love. Be ready for our date tomorrow night.”

With an excited nod, you pull him to you by the apron, capturing his lips in yours. “See you later, Toru.”

“Careful out there, detective!” He calls after you.

–

For the first time in days your motion cameras are set off. Sitting at the edge of the forest with your flashlight held between your teeth, you kneel over your briefcase, loading your second gun with silver bullets to add to your holster. You strap a silver dagger to your thigh, covering yourself in dark leather in an effort to conceal your presence.

Shutting the briefcase, you pocket some extra silver bullets and toss the briefcase aside, making a mental note of where it’s stashed.

The forest is deathly silent in the dead of night. Even birds and bugs don’t seem to dare to interrupt the cool still air of the night. Once you’ve broken the treeline and entered the first layer of trees, you move carefully in an attempt to avoid disturbing the brush at your feet. Your flashlight flicks off as you rely on the moonlight, gun loaded and finger on the trigger.

Keeping your back to the trees, you keep your eyes steady as you move towards the camera that was triggered. You had already pulled the footage before arrival, but it didn’t give you much to work with. You could faintly make out the shape of a paw before the footage cuts out.

Approaching the camera, you now see why. With a frown, you pick up the crushed electronic, flicking on your flashlight to get a better look at it. Punctures through the lens tell you that claws were used to damage it. Looking it over, you aren’t able to make out any saliva or blood that you could test, but you figure you can get a better look at it later, pocketing the small device.

Turning the flashlight around the small clearing, you can’t find any other signs of the wolf you’re hunting and your wire trap is still set. Grimacing, you flick the flashlight off and begin the slow and careful journey to the clearing where you had first investigated the disembodied limbs.

A loud bark-like yelp suddenly sounds where your bear traps are, shattering the forest’s silence as suddenly birds erupt from the trees and the night seems to come to life. Using the noise as an opportunity to move faster, you shine your light through the trees and dash towards the wolf.

Flashlight held tightly in your hand directly above your pistol, you shine the light at each bear trap, but in spite of the cry of pain, your monster is nowhere to be found.

When your light comes to rest on the furthest trap, you notice it’s been triggered and fresh blood drips from its teeth, fur wedged between its metal jaws. You smirk, striding easily towards the trap.

As far as you’re concerned, the wolf is finished. You’ll run DNA on its hair and blood and track it down once you have its identity. The hard part is finished.

Pulling a vial from your belt, you take a sample of the blood, using tweezers to grab a sample of hair and shoving them both into your pocket.

With that taken care of, you take a moment to examine the fur yourself. The fur is white as snow, an unusual trait for werewolves, especially those that don’t retreat to a home at night, which you can’t make the assumption that this one does based on what you’ve observed of the townsfolk.

Shining your light across the rest of the clearing, nothing else catches your eye so you reset the trap, cover it in leaves and debris, and head back to your hotel to run tests.

–

Waking up on your own time in the morning is refreshing after the previous night, although you would take an early morning with Satoru any day over a late morning alone. It’s hard to shake the feeling of missing his arms around you.

In truth, you feel selfish for seeking him out and wanting him by your side. You aren’t terribly far away, but if you were to pursue something with him, you would still be long distance. Not to mention how often you travel for work. You frown at the thought. You’re also only a few hours from completing your job realistically, the blood sample has almost finished processing and although you should be happy to be nearly finished with another job, there’s a pang in your heart at the idea of leaving Satoru behind.

Maybe you should quit pursuing him. Leaning over the desk of your motel, staring at the processing blood sample, you chew on your lip. Maybe today should be the last time you visit him, to lessen the pain of leaving. Either way, you need to speak with him.

Throwing on your holster under your jacket, you make your way towards the cafe a few blocks away. It’s a Monday, which you’ve noticed is slow for Satoru, and although it’s selfish, you’re grateful to see him standing alone behind the counter, staring blankly at the wall.

A small bell rings overhead, pulling his attention to you.

“There she is,” he grins at you, leaning forward against the counter on splayed palms. “Your usual, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you grin, smile faltering as you fiddle with the zipper of your jacket. “Hey, um, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Sensing the seriousness of the discussion from your tone, Satoru’s expression falls flat, worry flashing through his gorgeous irises.

“Listen, I don’t think I’ll be in town much longer.”

He frowns, averting his gaze. “Got a lead?”

“Something like that,” you hum, sighing. “I don’t want to lead you on when I’ll be leaving soon. You’re a great guy Toru, and you deserve-”

“How far?”

“Hm?”

“How far is the drive?” He asks, continuing to lean forward on the counter. Given his tall stature, it looks somewhat uncomfortable, but he doesn’t budge.

“About three hours,” you shrug.

“Then you’re not getting out of our date that easily,” he grins. 

Wide-eyed, you give him a surprised stare. It’s then that you notice that he looks… Unusually tired. There are dramatic dark circles beneath his eyes and beads of sweat form at his forehead, his chest rising and falling quickly.

You may not truly be a private investigator by trade, but given that it’s your business’ facade, you do have the required skills to be one.

And in this moment, you know Satoru is hiding something. He’s sweating bullets, avoiding your gaze, and most noticeably, he won’t move.

“What’s going on, Satoru?”

“Hm?” He hums nonchalantly, tilting his head as he forces a bright smile. You see right through him, taking a step forward as your eyes rake his figure.

“Why are you sweating?”

“It’s hot in here,” he lies, avoiding your gaze as your brows pull together.

“Do you wanna lie to me again?” You accuse, too confident in your ability to see through him to be worried that your accusation is baseless.

His jaw tenses, teeth grit as he clicks his tongue. “I’m not lying, detective. I’ve been in front of the oven all morning.”

You examine his eyes when he finally meets your gaze. They’re steely, determined. Yet another expression he wouldn’t need if he was telling the truth. You straighten your posture, eyes trailing along the walls of the bakery. For him to be so nervous, you had to be missing something.

Taking a couple of steps, you pace in a small circle as you look over your surroundings, making a mental note of exits and weapons as you mentally prepare yourself to pull your gun should you need it.

Has he been playing you this whole time?

Surely not, after all, you hadn’t noticed anything particularly animalistic about him, it was usually easy to tell for someone like you. He would have no other reason to hide anything, unless he was hiding the wolf. Could one of the part-timers be it? You hadn’t met any besides Megumi and hadn’t bothered to interview anyone beyond the adults given that the tooth and claw markings you had noticed were on the larger side, but it is possible, you suppose.

You let your shoulders fall as you exhale. You may not have known him long, but you do know that Satoru isn’t the type of man who would kill someone. Certainly not twelve someones. There’s no reason to distrust him, surely.

“Just a coffee I guess,” you order, eyeing him over once before you turn to head to a seat at the coffee bar. “Sorry, Toru. You just… don’t seem yourself. My work got the best of me,” you excuse yourself with a sigh, rubbing at your temple. God, it’s barely morning and you can already feel a headache coming on.

Satoru leans over the bar to set your coffee down, an easy smile returning to his face. “S’alright, sweetheart. Just had a long night of prep.”

“Oh yeah, how did the catering order go?” You ask, taking a sip of your coffee.

Satoru keeps his palms splayed over the counter as he leans forward while he chats with you. “Pretty good. I’m having Megumi drop it off for lunch, but the order’s all good to go.”

You nod, distracted once more by his veiny forearms, planted firmly in front of you.

“So the uh- the disappearances. You found a lead?” He asks, busying himself with cleaning the surface in front of you.

You eye him, brow furrowing. Now he sounds nervous too. “Yeeeah. I should have it figured out by noon.”

“That’s great. You must be excited,” he comments, shooting you a brief smile before he returns to cleaning the counter in front of you. You hum as he tosses the rag aside, stumbling awkwardly as he brushes his hands off on the apron against his thighs.

The air between you hangs in an uncomfortable balance. You can tell something is off, but you can’t place what it is.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you let the feeling go once again as Satoru grins up at another customer. Pulling out your phone, you pull up the number of your client to send an update, occupying yourself with that as Satoru takes the order of an older gentleman.

You glance up as the baker returns from the back of the shop with something fresh for the man, just in time to see something that makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

You move slowly, standing up from your seat and moving your hand under your jacket, letting your palm rest on the loaded gun in your holster. You grip it tightly, eyes wide as they come to rest on Satoru when the older man walks out of the bakery.

“Satoru.” Your voice trembles, something you mentally berate yourself over. You’ve never hesitated in this line of work. You’ve never needed to. Not when you’ve seen the remains of those who did hesitate. You don’t normally have that luxury. “What did you do to your foot?”

He pales, swallowing heavily as his eyes flicker to your hand hovering over what he knows to be your gun. “I fell,” he lies through his teeth.

“You fell,” you repeat his words as he nods blankly.

Your free hand drops to your belt, gripping your flashlight. Satoru’s eyes follow your every action intently, his chest rising and falling quickly as though struggling not to pant.

A click punctures the air as the flashlight comes to life and you shine it in his eyes. They gleam and reflect the light in an undeniably inhuman way. You shut your eyes for a moment, processing just how much of a fool you’ve been.

He’d been playing you since the beginning. You wonder if he knows your gun is loaded with silver bullets. You wonder how long he knew you weren’t a private investigator.

“You fell,” you repeat again, lashes fluttering as you meet his gaze again, flashlight lowered. “What are the odds you fell in the forest?”

He doesn’t respond, his pupils mere pinpricks.

“Your cast,” you question further, taking a step closer to glance at the massive boot around his leg. “Is there much left of your leg under there?”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

Your gun clicks and Satoru stumbles a step backwards as you draw it.

Even with a gun to his head, he looks beautiful. He looks like heaven, images of his body wrapped around you glued to you like the sweetest honey. You suppose in your line of work, you shouldn’t expect to find someone so seemingly perfect for you. Someone willing to drive three hours just to make things work.

At the end of the day, you live a life where monsters are real and love is a fairy tale. What kind of cruel irony is that?

“There’s enough,” he replies, strained.

“They’re intended for bears, y’know. Not wolves.”

Vocalizing it makes it seem so real, and clearly he knows the charade is up as he finally averts his gaze, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as he exhales heavily. “I’m not who you’re looking for.”

You scoff. “You’ve been playing me since I got here and you expect me to believe that?” Your hand shakes as you continue to hold the gun up to him. You’re not sure if you can go through with firing it if it comes to that.

You suppose you may not have a choice if it’s you or him.

“I was never playing you.”

“Then what do you call this?” You ask, motioning between the two of you with your chin.

Slowly, he brings a hand up to card it through his hair. He inhales sharply. “I didn’t realize what you were ‘til I saw your gun. By then though-” he pauses, examining your eyes before he stares at the trembling gun you hold out to him. “I’d already caught feelings.”

Your jaw trembles and you grit your teeth. A muscle in your arm twitches and you disarm your gun with a click, shutting your eyes again as you groan. The silence in the air is palpable, the dullest of knives could cut the tension between the both of you.

Your hand falls down to your side. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Satoru? I- I can’t-” you rub your non-dominant hand over your face, trying to make sense of the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

Even if you were just a private investigator, Satoru still played a dangerous game getting so close to you. He still played you like some sort of toy, which undeniably hurts, but worse still is the fact that your heart aches for his touch still. It aches for his kindness, even if it comes with a side of cockiness. It’s all so undeniably him and draws you to him.

Your heart aches for a monster. A creature responsible for the deaths of many of his own townsfolk, his own customers. What a fucking mess. What a fucking joke.

“It wasn’t me,” he repeats again, his tone now tinged with concern, bordering on desperation.

You shoot him an incredulous look. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that. I’ve interviewed everyone here, I’ve done my due diligence. If it wasn’t you then what were you doing out there last night anyway?”

“I know and I don’t know who it is but-”

“So you have no alibi and no proof that it’s someone else? What a fucking joke.” You scoff in disbelief, heading to the counter to pick up your bag and phone. Shoving your phone in your pocket and hauling your bag over your shoulder, you turn towards the door, leaving Satoru standing in complete and utter guilt, at a loss.

“Listen, please, I was looking for proof that it was someone else-”

“Satoru!” You interrupt him, raising your voice as you turn back to stare at him in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake stop lying, I need to go fucking-” you make a hand motion in the air, searching for words.

What do you need to do? You can stop the DNA sample, for one. But then what? You can’t cover up the evidence, some monster hunter you would be if you covered up after Satoru and returned to your client empty-handed.

Yet… you don’t want to kill him. You’re not even sure you can. Not after seeing such a gentle side of him. He claims it’s not him you’re after, but how are you meant to trust his word? He’s a killer, and he played you. So why does it hurt to think of killing him?

“I- I can help, it wasn’t me, I promise!” He raises his voice to match yours, stumbling another step forward on his cast with a visible wince as he pushes himself.

Shaking your head, you turn away again. “I need to go figure out what to do.” Your mind is rattling with frustration that you fear will turn to red-hot anger if you’re here any longer.

You can hear him shuffling behind you as you reach for the door. “No, no, no- detective please, I-” His hand comes to rest on your arm in an attempt to keep you from leaving.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Gojo!” You hiss, eyes full of malice as you turn towards him. Hurt flashes through his eyes, but he drops his hand shakily, finally letting you leave as your anger bursts through the seams of your composure.

When you’re long out of sight, Satoru hobbles slowly back to the counter, splaying palms over the surface as he stares down at his hands. With teeth grit and eyes shut, he groans. The image of your gun pointed square at his forehead is burned into his brain as he wondered if he could have done something differently to prevent this from happening.

No, at the end of the day, he’s just a werewolf who was naive enough to fall for the exact person out to kill people like him. With eyes shut tight, he rakes his fingers over the counter until his hands are balled into fists beneath him.

He lets out a sigh, long white lashes fluttering open finally. He frowns as he takes in the sight before him. Eight long trails are carved through the wood of his counter, freshly dragged through the grain by the claws of a predator.

Stumbling back, he stares at his hands, having not realized his claws were out.

Is he truly no better than you make him out to be?

–

As the afternoon sun washes over you, you return your pistol to its holster and sigh, running both hands over your face. Beginning a slow trek back to your motel, you decide the best course of action is to clean up after yourself and leave. You’re compromised and at the end of the day, it’s better to hand this off to someone else. You’ll have to deny payment, but you can make suggestions. Someone who won’t hesitate.

Your hand falters even as you reach your door. You don’t want to be an accomplice in Satoru’s murder. It doesn’t matter how much he lied and led you off-track. To some degree, you care about him.

Maybe even more than you’d like to admit.

Unlocking your door, you toss your jacket and holster aside.

“Fuck!” You toss your bag carelessly, letting it slam against the wall with your laptop. You can only imagine the scolding you would be getting from your father if he knew what was going through your mind.

Your eyes flicker to the tests you were running, now complete. It doesn’t matter anymore. You found your wolf. Unfortunately he’s caring, charming, and you’re hopelessly into him.

Laying back on the motel bed, you shut your eyes and curl into yourself, letting sleep take you.

–

The snap of a bear trap fills your ears as you set off the first trap you need to clean up from a safe distance. Your brain is foggy with doubts and frustrations and despite the setting sun keeping you warm, a shiver runs up your spine.

You sigh, tossing a rock at the next bear trap and dragging it along the ground with you. Even in broad daylight, the forest seems to hold its breath. There’s no rustling of leaves surrounding you, the birds are silent, and there’s no idle buzz of insects. It’s almost as though it’s taunting you for your naivety in believing the wolf hidden right in front of your eyes.

You toss the rock, letting the third trap snap shut. The sound pierces the air and the forest shudders. Picking up the trap’s chain, you drag it along with the other two.

The walk back to your wire trap is a slow one, burdened by the traps in your arm and the pit in your stomach. You almost feel sick to your stomach at the idea of turning down a job. Exhaling heavily, you wonder if Higuruma will recommend you to a client again after this nightmare.

Probably not.

You’ll have to pay back what was already paid to you. Likely pay for the motel as well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you lean down to disarm the wire trap. As the wire loosens and you begin to coil it up, rustling nearby catches your attention.

You lift your head, scanning your surroundings, but nothing in particular seems out of the ordinary. Likely a fox or a deer. Probably no big deal.

You finish coiling up the wire and tug the traps along, heading to the next site where you had traps set.

When you reach the bloodied trap, you stop, staring at it. Within the forest it seems the only lively area is right over the trap as flies buzz and lower themselves over the bloodied steel trap. You take a step back and toss a rock, letting it snap again.

It’s eerie, the sound of the snapping metal in an otherwise silent forest. Staring down at it, a shiver runs down your spine. You hadn’t seen it in daylight yet, but with the amount of crimson coating the jaws of steel, it must have done a hefty amount of damage. Enough to make you feel guilty.

Fuck, even after everything he pulled, you still feel guilty.

Yanking the chain of the trap, you toss it over your arm with the rest.

Stupid. So stupid.

Turning to the next trap, something catches your eye. It’s a split-second, but you see a flash. Blinking, you back yourself carefully up to the tree behind you, hand hovering over your pistol.

You had to be imagining things. Or maybe it’s just some harmless animal. A coyote or fox.

Still, you don’t let your guard down, slowly surveying the area.

“Satoru?” You question, keeping your voice low. You’re met with the sound of rustling, and another flash of eyes.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest as thoughts race through your mind. Were you so foolish that not only did Satoru slip past you unnoticed as the exact creature you’re hunting but you also didn’t believe him when he was telling the truth? 

Well, you’re fucked now.

You pull your pistol from the holster, snapping it in the direction of your new assailant as he slips between trees before you with an eerie grin. He’s human, for now, but his eyes tell you all you need to know.

“So you’re the lil’ monster hunter they sent after me, huh?”

The man’s stature is tall, similar to Satoru’s, though he carries himself with menacing pride. Raven hair falls over his eyes, emerald green and filled with confidence. A tight black shirt is pulled taut with every step he takes, very little of his broad shoulders and muscular torso left to the imagination. His lips quirk upwards into a smirk, a scar at the edge of his lips the only sign he’s ever taken damage in a scuffle.

“Y’know, you reek of wolf. Woulda thought they’d send someone a bit better at their job.”

You swallow in an effort to hide your wince as he hits you right where it hurts. Steeling yourself, you remain silent, focusing your narrowed eyes on him as you evaluate your target while he taunts you.

He’s confident you won’t hit him if you shoot now, that much is clear. He wouldn’t stand at such a close range if he thought you could hit him. It means he’s fast, and he’s clearly muscular too. That doesn’t leave much for weaknesses, but he’s cocky enough that at some point he’ll surely slip up and you’ll find an opening. It’s always like that with the overconfident ones.

“Not so talkative now, are we?” The tall man chuckles, taking a step towards you. Dropping the chains of the traps dangling from your arm, you discreetly shuffle to allow yourself room for an exit, all of your instincts kicking in at once.

You were so caught up in your anger with Satoru that you didn’t prepare for this. Your dagger is on the side table in the motel room. Your extra bullets are in the pocket of your other pants. Your extra gun is on the bathroom counter.

Your gun has ten bullets remaining.

It’s enough for a young or inexperienced wolf, but he’s smarter than that. He’s been watching you, he’s waited until your traps are all disarmed. He’s waited until you’re alone and vulnerable without your weapons. He’s cunning.

“Countin’ your bullets?” He sneers, taking another step towards you. He holds his hand out in front of you, sharpened claws decorating the tip of each finger as he counts aloud. “Two, four,” green eyes flicker up to your face as he smirks, “six, eight, ten.”

You slip around the tree, giving yourself an exit route, but the wolf moves too quickly and he’s blocking the area you had mapped for yourself. He’s been hunting you the whole time, right under your nose.

“Poor thing. No way out n’ only ten bullets,” he chuckles darkly, rolling his broad shoulders back. His eyes narrow. “Let’s see what ya got f’r me, hunter.”

He dashes forward, so quickly that your heart nearly leaps from its cage as you barely manage to duck and roll beneath his claws. They collide with the tree behind you and he snarls, pushing off of the bark as he bares long fangs at you.

Shit, he’s not even transforming. He doesn’t even consider you a worthy opponent. It’s almost humiliating, not to mention the genuine fear coursing through your veins for the first time in a long time. Doubly humiliating.

Keeping a careful count on your bullets, you know you need to devise a strategy. As the man lunges forward, you grab one of the disarmed bear traps, launching it at him as you grapple around a tree trunk to avoid his jaws.

The wolf recovers quickly and turns on a dime to follow you. Firing off a shot, you force him to veer away.

“One,” he growls in a low chuckle.

He’s playing with his food. You’re better than this and you know it.

Inhaling, you take a breath to level your head. The wolf peers down at you like prey from a tree above and you know you have to catch him off-guard if you want any chance at living through this. That, or you needed to find a way out.

Your chest rises and falls heavily with each breath as you keep your eyes locked on your target.

With your gun held steadily in front of you, you feign making a dash for your mapped escape, grateful when your assailant takes the bait and you’re able to double back in time to grab the three disarmed traps piled on the ground.

His head tilts curiously, focused on your movements.

With the ends of each trap’s chain held tightly in your hand, you divert his attention with a carefully aimed shot that chips away at the branch just above his head as he ducks out of the way. The fact you weren’t aiming at him goes unnoticed, you think.

“Two,” he growls.

Not taking your eyes off of him, you deftly hook the chains together.

As he darts forward, you slide beneath him, firing off two shots in an attempt to make yourself look desperate. In reality, you are, but you need him to know that.

Either way he’s too fast and the bullets go flying past him.

“Four,” he hums, turning on his heel to launch himself at you from off a tree with claws outstretched.

Another bullet flies through the air, careening past him, but he twists and manages to slice his claws through your arm.

Hissing through your teeth, you tighten your grip on your gun, letting your adrenaline carry you forward.

Exhaling through your nose, you lift your gun again, the branch that you’d previously shot now directly behind your enemy again. Three more bullets fly out, two hitting the branch squarely while the other zips by the raven-haired man.

“Eight,” he grins, eyes narrowing as he herds you back against a tree trunk.

Two bullets left to make your escape. Your only chance.

With your back to the wall, you wait for the wolf to dive forward, shooting your ninth bullet straight for his head. He dodges to the side at the last second and your last chance opens up. You take your chance, putting your gun back in its holster as you fling the chained traps up at the branch you’d been shooting. The weight of the traps manages to pull the branch down behind you, just as you’d hoped it would.

The crackling of the branch snapping sounds off louder than any gunshot as it crashes down behind you. You hear a surprised huff, followed by a growl as you run for the treeline.

Your chest heaves, adrenaline coursing through your veins as it keeps your focus from the crimson that stains the sleeve of your torn jacket. The sting of his claws is nothing in comparison to the humiliation of this hunt, but worse still is the dread that tears at your chest when you hear the rustling of steps behind you.

They’re too fast. He’s too fast. You pull your gun back out, but it’s no use. You have one bullet left. You’re dead and the wolf knows it.

He tackles you to the ground, a pained grunt parting your lips as his full weight pins you to the ground.

He grins, one set of claws digging into your shoulder as he pins you down, forcing you to drop your gun, while his other clawed hand is held steadily at your neck. “So y’r the best they got, huh?” He chuckles darkly.

You let out a pained gasp as his claw pierces the skin of your neck. Your eyes shut tight as you wait for death to come, when suddenly his weight is lifted from you.

Your eyes shoot open at the sound of a pained yelp and all you can see is a flurry of white fur as your assailant is sent flying straight through a tree. If the sound of the branch snapping was louder than a gun, the sound of the tree snapping in on itself is like thunder. You recoil from the noise, pushing yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at what’s happened.

Fur as white as snow decorates the figure standing in front of you from head to toe, a long tail swaying back and forth as its ears point straight towards the other wolf. Though his features are primarily that of a wolf, when he turns his head towards you, the shimmering blue eyes that find you are undeniably those of a worried Satoru.

You can only stare, hand still gripping your gun as Satoru stands over you protectively, balling his clawed hands into fists.

As the other wolf gets to his feet, he chuckles in amusement, spitting blood in the dirt. “Knew I smelled another wolf on ya. Didn’t know it was the Gojo kid.”

Satoru’s ear flicks as he growls. “What do I call you, then?”

“Fushiguro Toji,” the mutt answers as he pushes himself to his feet.

Satoru straightens slightly at the name, but he shakes his head, steadying himself to take on the wolf. He barely looks steady at all, and that’s when you realize just what’s hampering him.

Of course, his leg. The cast has held steady, somehow managing to stay on even in this form, although he’s trying to stay off of it, balancing precariously. He’s down a limb and you’re down to your last bullet, all the while Toji has a few splinters and that’s about it.

Well, shit.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you take cover in an effort to evaluate the situation as Satoru snarls at Toji, now taking the form of a lupine. He stands just as tall as Satoru, his pelt as dark as his raven hair.

“What’s some rich heir doin’ out here anyway?” 

“What’s the father of the year doing out here?” Gojo rebuttals, a prideful smirk crossing his canine features.

With a furious bark, Toji leaps at Gojo in time for you to duck behind a tree. The way Toji fights tooth and claw against your savior isn’t like how he fought against you. He dashes around, bounding off of trees as he attempts to confuse and out-speed Satoru, who only lashes out his claws when necessary in an effort to defend himself.

Still, you can’t help but feel as though to some degree, Satoru is enjoying this just as much as Toji clearly is. A twisted smirk dons his fanged mouth, curling upwards as he slams a forepaw into Toji, sending him flying through the trees.

With Toji temporarily down, you make a dash for the branch that you had pulled down earlier, gritting your teeth as you keep an eye on your peripherals while you attempt to untangle the traps.

As you fiddle with their chains, Satoru barks out a warning as Toji leaps forward again, landing them both in a tussle. Tooth and nail collide as barks, growls, and whimpers pierce the air to your left while you desperately fumble with the traps, though you fear it may be of no use.

Swallowing hard, you roll out of the way when Toji’s claws extend towards you, but Satoru drags him back. Your heart pounds hard in your chest as your ragged breaths come quicker at just how narrowly you’re managing to escape the feral wolf.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, waiting for the wolves to separate for a moment as Toji resets himself for an attack that Satoru fends off easily. Now with an opening, you slink back over to the bear traps, when a shrill yelp suddenly pierces the air, pulling your attention to the wolves.

Satoru’s shoulder is caught in Toji’s jaws, blood trickling out from under his fangs as neither wolf moves. Satoru’s blue eyes are wide as Toji’s claws lift, a snide grin curling at his lips even as he holds Satoru down with his teeth.

BANG.

The forest grows silent again. The birds and insects have long fled, the deer and foxes peer from between the brush in an effort to catch a glance at what’s happened. The wind no longer whistles and the trees hold their breath.

Your chest heaves as you lower your gun.

“Ten,” you mutter just loud enough for Toji to hear as his emerald green eyes find you for the final time. Blood trickles down between his eyes and around his snout, dripping down his jaw into Satoru’s fur beneath him.

“Gojo,” Toji grunts, barely holding himself up, “don’t let those assholes take the kid,” and with that, his eyes lose their luster as he slumps forward. Satoru pushes his body to the ground, laying flat on his back for a moment as he catches his breath.

Your gun clatters suddenly to the ground as you scramble over to Satoru, kneeling hesitantly beside him.

“Believe me now, detective?”

You swallow hard, running a hand over the shoulder where Toji’s teeth sank in. He hisses, pushing himself up. Even sitting up, he towers over you in this form. Your every instinct tells you to run, all except for one, as your heart tells you that this man would never dare hurt you or anyone else.

Your lips part to reply but all you can manage is a shaky “are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” he grumbles, “but I’ll be fine. I’ll lick my wounds or whatever dog analogy you wanna use.” His ear flicks in amusement at his own lighthearted quip and you can’t help the relieved smile that spreads across your lips. “Are you okay?”

You quirk your head to the side in an effort to figure out what he could mean only to realize blood is still dripping down your arm from where Toji sliced you, not to mention the sting of his claws in your shoulder and neck. Adrenaline still courses through your veins, keeping the pain at bay for now.

“Oh, yeah. I can’t feel it right now.”

Satoru hums as he pushes himself up, pupils mere slits as he reaches for you. He may be a hulking and monstrous werewolf, but somehow he’s still so Satoru. His blue eyes are tired, but they glimmer with that familiar swirl of mirth that always seems to come out around you. He still carries himself confidently with an air of goofiness that lightens the silence between the both of you, although much remains unsaid.

Clawed hands delicately reach for the hem of your shirt, easily tearing a portion of the fabric off. He takes your arm carefully from your jacket, pulling it from the confines of the sleeve and wraps it around your wounds tightly. Thankfully, you still can hardly feel the pain.

“You should go to the hospital,” he grunts, sitting back on his haunches.

“I’ll be fine,” you brush him off, “you look worse than I do,” you comment, looking over several claw marks and the chunk torn from his shoulder, not to mention the blood coating his fur.

“Can’t exactly go to the hospital for things like this,” Satoru shakes his head. “I’ll stitch myself up later.”

“Let me do it,” you blurt out.

His head tilts. It’s such a dog-like movement it’s almost adorable. His ear flops slightly, tail twitching. “I thought you wouldn’t wanna be around me.”

“I was wrong,” you blurt out without a second thought. “You never lied to me, you never played me. I just didn’t listen.” His ears perk up, his tail twitching as though he’s struggling not to wag it. It’s hard to deny just how adorable he is like this.

In the same way that Toji grew more menacing covered in fur, Satoru somehow felt more like putty in your hands, unable to hide his emotions now that so much of his body language gave him away.

“I wanted to be honest with you,” he admits, “but I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“I wouldn’t have,” you agree, reaching forward to cup his cheek. It’s a foreign feeling, so covered in fur, but somehow familiar as he leans into your touch. “But I think I might be bad at my job,” you chuckle, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your head. Pain jolts suddenly through your arm and you hiss, staring down at your blood-soaked upper arm. The blood was beginning to soak through the material of your shirt that was wrapped around it.

Pushing himself up on his feet, Gojo tests his weight on his broken ankle before making a move to pick you up. Werewolves heal unreasonably fast in comparison to humans, but you still don’t love the idea of him carrying you while in a cast.

“I can walk,” you insist. “Stay off your foot, Toru,” you push yourself up, glancing at his broken foot.

This time, he can’t help it. His tail wags. Like an excited puppy, it damn near knocks you over with the way it sways. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat as you have to side step to avoid his powerful tail.

“You really do like it when I call you that, huh?” You tease with a grin.

You’re certain he would be blushing if he could. “It sounds pretty comin’ from you.”

Though there are still things left unsaid, the silence that settles between you as you make your way back to the treeline is an easy one. You’ll need to come back for Toji’s body and the traps left behind, so you leave your briefcase behind as well. You can’t imagine many of the locals make a point of going to the forest anyway these days.

As you reach the edge of the forest and the town comes into view, something occurs to you.

“Why haven’t you changed back?”

Slits of pupils surrounded by oceans of blue flicker towards you. “My clothes are shredded.” He’s grinning at you, something of a suggestive grin on his wolfish face.

You can only groan at that. “How the hell do we get you to my motel then?” In truth, you aren’t sure you can afford to wait for night to sneak him through the town as your adrenaline is quickly wearing off. Between the blood loss and the pain, you’re growing more light headed by the moment.

“I could pretend to be a dog,” he suggests, but one look from you tells him otherwise. Even on all fours, he’s absolutely massive and he’s far too humanoid to ever look even remotely like a full canine.

Not to mention, you had been hired by someone in the town to hunt his kind. He couldn’t get caught.

You cast a glance at the setting sun, frowning.

“Go on ahead. I’ll catch up when it’s dark.” Clearly, he’s on the same page.

You shoot him a hesitant glance. “I don’t want to leave you behind,” you admit, voice nearly a whisper. The moment has a certain sense of déja vu as you think back to Satoru being unwilling to fuck you and disappear. You can’t help but feel as though you’re somehow betraying him by parting ways, even if it’s only for an hour.

His ear flicks as he examines your features, an understanding expression passing over his lupine features. “I’m not hurt too bad. Honestly your trap did more damage than Toji.”

Guilt floods your body at the reminder that his ankle was likely nearly torn from his body by a trap set by you.

“Stop worrying about it. We can talk later, get to the motel.”

You nod, making your way back.

–

Using your teeth to pull the final stitch of the second claw slice tight, you lean back in the chair at the window, draping your arm tiredly over your eyes. It’s not like you haven’t stitched yourself up before but it doesn’t make the pain any less daunting.

You jolt as someone knocks at the door, moving the curtain aside in time to see pupils flash.

Dashing to the door, you grab a towel and use it to twist the knob in an effort not to spread your blood everywhere given the current state of your hands.

Satoru ducks into the room, shutting the door behind you and glancing around until troubled eyes find you, slumping back in the chair. You look queasy, blood pouring down your arm and coating your fingers in crimson.

Glancing around the room, massive paws reach for a towel and you watch in awe as his bones jolt and twitch, shifting to a human size. His fur recedes into his skin, leaving behind only a bloodied mop of white hair on his head. He wraps the towel around his waist before turning to face you.

The bite mark on his shoulder doesn’t look anywhere near as bad now in this form, the injuries having shrunk along with his body. You suppose he was right to say his wounds weren’t as bad as they looked.

Your eyes shamelessly rake across his body after evaluating his wounds. For a werewolf, you’re almost surprised he doesn’t have more scars than the ones that will surely be left behind from Toji. His skin is nearly flawless, marred only by crimson stains that cover him from head to toe, drying strands of his usually snow-white hair together.

For how much damage you thought Toji did, he seems mostly unaffected.

You, on the other hand, look worse for wear.

With the towel wrapped soundly around his waist, he approaches you slowly, grabbing the chair across from you and moving it until he’s sitting before you.

“Let me help,” he insists. You don’t have the energy to fight him and give in immediately, handing him the needle and thread and a bottle of alcohol. With warm hands, he douses the wound in antiseptic, frowning when you flinch. He mutters a ‘sorry’ as you lean back and throw your other arm over your eyes. “You better not pass out on me, detective.”

“I won’t,” you grumble, taking a breath as the needle pierces your skin.

Satoru is surprisingly deft in his motions as he stitches you up, the first of the remaining two deep slices complete fairly quickly and with little blood loss in comparison to the ones you had managed to do on yourself. Not to say they were done poorly by any means, you had the skills necessary to patch yourself up, but doing so with one arm had proven to be a challenge.

“Why did Toji mention his kid? Was he talking about your employee or something?”

Satoru lets the questions hang in the air for a moment before replying. “He was,” Satoru confirms, replying with his own question that doesn’t seem to have a connection as far as you can tell. “What do you plan on doing after this?”

You hum thoughtfully, too tired to question his thought process. “Dunno. I don’t think I can call myself much of a monster hunter at this point.”

“Why not? You killed Toji,” Satoru points out.

“I guess,” you mumble, lifting your arm to stare at the ceiling. Even if you dealt the killing blow, it still felt like Satoru’s kill. You let the silence hang for a moment as Satoru works on your wound. “You know, even if it had been you, I couldn’t kill you.”

Your voice is meek as you admit this to him. He knows already, but the statement still hangs in the air, the tension interrupted only by a hiss as he continues his ministrations, giving his latest stitch a tug to pull it taut.

“Maybe that makes you a better monster hunter.”

You lift your head, carefully observing his expression. “How?”

“Not every monster is heartless,” he shrugs, brow furrowed as he keeps his gaze focused on his movements. “The world could use more people like you to look out for those of us that aren’t so bad.”

You blink at him, somewhat unused to the very serious but also very genuine advice he’s giving you. His usual goofy demeanor seems to be on pause as he finishes up the last stitch before taking an alcohol wipe to clean the wound once more, carefully running the wipe along the holes left by Toji’s claws in your shoulder and throat as well.

You can’t help but gasp as the alcohol burns on your arm. You inhale sharply, pushing through the pain. “Wouldn’t I be more of a monster lawyer then?” You chuckle, voice strained.

Satoru’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Maybe. I could get used to calling you ‘lawyer’ instead of detective.”

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your throat, keeping your arm held out for him as he wraps it in thick bandages. Once he’s satisfied with his work, you half expect him to turn tail and leave. You don’t deserve his kindness after lashing out at him, but in truth you know there’s more to what pulls you and Satoru together.

Despite the obvious differences between the both of you, there’s a strong connection that ties you both together already. One that you want to explore, one that feels forbidden. A monster hunter and a werewolf? It can never work. To make matters worse, even before the revelation of his secret, you already were on your way to end things just based on distance.

It just won’t work.

But still, you owe it to him to at least make things right before you leave.

“I’m so sorry, Satoru.”

“It’s alright,” he brushes you off with a grin. There’s no hesitation as he accepts your apology without a doubt in his mind. Bile rises in your throat as it becomes glaringly obvious just how much you don’t deserve this kindness. He only further proves the point as he takes a face cloth in one hand, pouring alcohol over it and wiping it over your blood-encrusted fingers to clean them. He’s so gentle with each movement that it makes your head spin.

Maybe that’s just the blood loss. You can blame it on that for now.

Shaking your head, your brow furrows. “No, no it’s not. I judged a book by its cover and that’s not fair at all to you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and even when you found out I was here to hunt you- or, well, not you but I thought I was hunting you- that didn’t change how you saw me and I should have extended that same courtesy to-”

Satoru’s thumb brushes your lower lip, effectively shutting you up as your heart palpitates. “I forgive you. We both kept secrets.”

Still, you can’t help the guilt that boils in your stomach as he’s so quick to forgive you.

“Oh! And while we’re airing secrets I should probably let you know my employees are all werewolves,” he grins as his expression turns to a cheerful one.

“What?” You gape in disbelief.

“Yeah. Megumi is Toji’s son. I took him and his sister in a while ago, something about Toji’s family rejecting them when his sister wasn’t a wolf. Dunno, Megs doesn’t talk about it much. Oh, and then the other two as well-”

He talks so casually you nearly have to pick your jaw up off the floor.

“I’m so bad at my job,” you groan, earning a laugh from Gojo. He has a funny way of easily flipping a serious conversation to a lighthearted one.

“Nah. You were right the whole time. You weren’t hunting me or the kids anyway,” he shrugs easily, taking in the scene around him as he finally realizes just how bloodied both of you are. “We should shower.”

You hum, leaning back in the chair again. He’s right, but your head is still spinning and your arm is throbbing.

“Tell ya what. I’ll shower, then I’ll grab you some food. It should help with the blood loss. You shower while I’m gone.”

You nod slowly, watching the bare-chested man get to his feet. “I have some sweatpants and a big shirt for pajamas in my suitcase. You can use those.”

He grins thankfully before disappearing into the washroom.

–

You’re surprised to find that Gojo has already returned when you leave the washroom, feeling refreshed albeit sore. Laid out on the table by the chairs you’d been in earlier is an assortment of pastries and sandwiches. It figures that nowhere would be open at this time besides corner stores, so he’d likely just pulled something together from the bakery. How he’s managed to hobble around so competently on a broken ankle is beyond you, even if werewolves heal faster than humans.

Satoru is in the clothing you’d offered him, a pair of sweats that ride up past his ankles and seem fairly tight at the waist, and a pink t-shirt pulled taut with each movement of his bulky upper chest. It’s a sight to behold and you can’t help but to smile.

Catching sight of you in his peripherals, his blue eyes brighten. “I wasn’t sure what you would want, so I-”

“You brought the whole bakery?” You chide, sliding down in the chair beside him.

“Well I left the custard donut behind, actually. So not the whole bakery,” he chuckles. “I’ve been told that one wasn’t my best.” His fingers card through his white locks, pushing stray strands of hair from his eyes.

“I dunno, I might have wanted to give that one a try,” you hum as you grin up at him through long lashes.

He scoffs, playfully nudging your uninjured shoulder. “Okay now I know the blood loss is a problem.”

You giggle, picking up a croissant and taking a bite with a pleased smile. “Thanks for doing this, Toru. I thought you would just pick up a snack from the corner store or something.”

“Have you checked out the corner store? Guaranteed you’d get food poisoning.”

You barely make it a quarter of the way through the spread of food he’s brought before leaning back in the chair with a wince. In an instant, Satoru’s at your side, finger running delicately over the bandages he’s wrapped as he searches for a sign that his stitches may have come undone.

“Satoru, I’m fine,” you mumble, weakly shoving at his chest. The man doesn’t budge as his hand trails down your arm, sending goosebumps up your skin from his feather-light touch. It sends a shiver straight up your spine, one that you’re certain doesn’t go unnoticed when you find yourself staring straight at pupils so dilated that the blues of his eyes are hardly visible.

Like pools of lust, they beg for your attention and you don’t stand a chance of resisting. That’s just the kind of effect he has on you.

Balling the fabric of the shirt he’s wearing into your fingers, you pull him down. He melts against your lips, electricity shooting between the both of you like lightning, followed by the thunderous growl that Satoru doesn’t bother trying to mask like the last time you had had sex.

Suddenly the biting, the marking, the guttural groans and near-growls and him effortlessly ripping your panties the other night all makes sense. Satoru didn’t lose control at the first smell of blood or on the full moon, he lost control to your intoxicating touch.

His fingers move from your arm to your waist and down your hips, before lifting you into his arms, large hands supporting your ass. He stumbles slightly on his broken ankle, dropping you unevenly on the bed with a charming laugh as he does his best to hold himself and you up on his ankle, failing somewhat. You can’t help but to laugh along with him as he crawls on top of you.

His lips are back on yours in an instant, and it’s in that moment that his self-control begins to slip away. He deepens the kiss, smirking when a whimper leaves your parted lips, swallowed in the landscape of his tongue.

Acting on instinct, he ruts his already rock-hard length against you, pulling a whine from your pretty lips at the delicious friction of his cock against your bundle of nerves. His eyes are a wildfire of lust when he pulls back, eagerly leaving kisses and nibbling on the uninjured sode of your neck. As any sense of control slips, each kiss grows sloppier and each bite grows harder, until you feel fangs graze your skin.

You gasp at the foreign feeling, securing your arms around his neck as he bites down on your shoulder. He wouldn’t dare break skin, even fucked out of his mind he would never intentionally bring you harm. As pain and pleasure mingle together, you drag your nails down his back.

A guttural groan leaves his throat as he continues to grind hard against your core, your slick soaking through your panties and driving his enhanced senses crazy. In a haze, he moves to grip your shoulder in an attempt to move you up the bed, but his grip on your arm causes you to yelp in pain.

Satoru goes rigid, completely frozen as his pupils narrow to pinpricks, taking in your expression before he realizes what’s happened.

“Shit, sorry baby,” he pants, eyes wide with fear. “I forgot, I promise I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, Toru. I know you didn’t mean it,” you reassure him with a smile as he creates a suitable distance between his hand and your arm, pressing a languid kiss to your forehead.

“I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt anyone,” he whispers, sitting back on his knees. The look he’s giving you tells you everything you need to know. He’s more than just desperate for you to believe him, he needs you to trust him.

People like Satoru don’t get chances at love. Werewolves are old wives’ tales, fake to the general public and the admission of monsters to most was enough to scare even the most open-minded people off. He counts himself lucky that you didn’t put a bullet between his eyes, but even in the moment he knew it wasn’t luck. Just like it wasn’t luck that he heard gunshots go off and rushed to the forest.

It wasn’t luck that Satoru was there for you.

Satoru wants to be there for you in more than just life or death situations. In fact, he’d prefer to be there for you mostly outside of those situations.

“I know you won’t. I trust you,” you breathe.

His toothy grin is still fanged, perfect rows of teeth bared in a sparkling grin in spite of the sharp canines that decorate his smile.

He’s gentler as he leans forward, parting your legs to make space for him between them. Gentle fingers trace your jaw, tilting it to give him the optimal angle to press soft lips to yours.

“Detective,” he whispers against your lips. His white lashes flutter as he rests his forehead softly against yours.

“Yeah, Toru?”

“Let’s try this.”

You pull back slightly to get a better look at him, amused. “Try what, Satoru? Sex?”

“No,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Let me make you mine.”

Your eyes widen. “Yours?” Your heart races in your chest, pounding at the confines of your ribs as though it stands a chance at escaping. “Toru, it’s my job to hunt you.”

“So? You’re under me right now, what difference does it make?”

“I-” you hesitate, glancing at the curtains of the motel room as though they’ve suddenly grown more interesting than the man in front of you. “I’m not really good at anything else, Satoru. I can’t quit, and what if you get caught? I work with other hunters.”

“I won’t get caught,” he mumbles against your skin as he continues his ministrations of leaving kisses along your jaw. He’s soft this time, each kiss more delicate than the last.

“What if you do though, Satoru? I’m serious,” you insist, gripping tightly to his shoulders in an effort to get eye contact. His expression hardens as he examines your expression.

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

You’re almost shocked by the solemnity of his voice. You want this just as he does but the odds aren’t in your favor and he doesn’t seem to realize that.

“I can’t put you or the kids at risk,” you pause, brow furrowing, “you shouldn’t have told me about them, by the way.”

“I trust you,” he shrugs, pouting, “you won’t put us at risk. You can visit us between jobs and if things work out, maybe we can move your office here.”

It’s a big ask, effectively a long distance relationship between an unlikely duo. It’s not like Satoru can uproot his life and leave the kids to fend for themselves but you can’t uproot your life for someone you met last week.

Still, it’s not unreasonable. It’s not like long distance is impossible given you’re only three hours away, and fuck, you can’t deny just how much you’ve enjoyed being around him for the past week. Even before you knew he was a wolf, you struggled with the idea of ending whatever it was between the both of you.

As if to help your decision, Satoru moves a warm palm over yours, lifting your hand to rest over his heart. It’s pounding, his chest not just warm but hot to the touch. Just the thought of you saying no has set his entire body on fire, stressed at the idea of your rejection.

Just for once, Satoru wants to be selfish. He hopes you’ll be selfish too.

“One condition, Toru.”

His eyes gleam hopefully as he leans in, listening intently.

“You owe me that dinner date,” you grin.

He chuckles happily, leaning forward to capture your lips once more. “Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.”

His hands are back on you in an instant, exploring every inch of your body with the fervor of a man starved. Something brushes your leg and you gasp, holding his shoulders tight.

“Y’ scared of the big bad wolf?” Satoru grins with lidded eyes as you stare past him at the fluffy white tail flicking back and forth wildly.

“That might be the cheesiest, most embarrassing thing I’ve ever heard,” you groan, rubbing your palms over your face.

“Get used to it,” he chides against the skin of your neck, nipping on the sensitive skin just above your collarbone, opposite your already very purpled hickey he’d left the other night. His hands come to rest on either side of your head as he leans over you, effectively pinning you to the mattress under his weight.

He mutters praise against your skin with each nip and kiss like a mantra, the feeling of your hips bucking desperately beneath him sending him spiraling once more into a lustful state of desperation.

Whimpers fall from your lips with each drag of his hardened cock against your soaked pussy, each moan sinful as you beg for more. You cling to his shoulders for purchase, ragged breaths and pants filling the cool air of the motel room.

With each roll of Gojo’s hips, his fingers grip the sheets tighter until claws are tearing through the fabric, a huff leaving his lips. You slide your fingers down his torso, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it up over his head. He obliges, tossing it to the floor across the room and leaning back to discard the sweatpants you’d lent him, careful not to hit his ankle.

With no boxers, he’s bare before you, a sight to behold as his cock stands at attention, tip flushed and angry with pre-cum spilling from the tip. He wastes no time in stripping you of your clothes as well, eagerly tossing your pants and shirt aside.

“Easy, Toru,” you warn as his clawed hand grazes your injury, but he’s careful this time, intertwining his fingers in yours as he passes control to you by flipping you on top of him.

Gojo would give anything to pound you into the mattress with his fat cock, but in relinquishing his control to you, he knows he won’t hurt you. He’ll be soft for only you.

The feeling of his length twitching beneath you pulls a gasp from your throat. Leaning forward on his chest, you cast a glance at the tail flicking wildly from where it’s curled on his left side, brushing your thigh every so often.

Veiny hands find your waist as he holds you in place while he bucks his hips upwards, pulling a ragged moan from your sweet lips. It’s then that you finally start moving and Satoru’s head falls back against the headboard in bliss as your slick folds coat him in arousal.

A groan tears through Satoru in time with your moan of his name as his tip grinds against your clit. His fingers hold you in a bruising grip, his claws dancing along the surface of your skin, though they never pierce you.

“Shit, Toru-” you breathe, glancing down as you line yourself up over his cockhead, lowering yourself onto him.

His jaw hangs slack with pleasure as your walls grip him tightly, fluttering with desire as you lower yourself slowly down on his length. Bottoming out, you brace yourself on his chest as you give yourself a moment to adjust to his girth that stings and stretches your walls.

“Fuck, y’re tight, baby.”

As the pain shifts to pleasure, you roll your hips, pushing off of his broad chest to gain momentum as you bounce on his cock. He sits back, his fluffy white tail twitching as he resists the urge to thrust up into you, allowing you to set the pace.

He fills you up so much that each bounce on his length causes your thighs to shake in bliss, the vibrations of your trembling sending pleasure straight through the man sitting beneath you. His cock jerks as your shakiness causes you to slow your ministrations and he can’t help it anymore as he holds your hips in place and fucks up into you.

Satoru wants control.

His pace is cruel, his cock tip brushing the depths of your cunt. Each thrust brushes your g-spot so deliciously as though he already knows your body inside and out, because he does. Satoru has memorized each and every one of your moans, burned into his brain to tell him exactly what you want and need, all from your first night together. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t make use of it.

The babbles of his name that fall from your lips are so pretty that he can’t help the way he roughly grabs your chin, tilting your fucked out expression to face him. The eye contact sends him into a frenzy, flipping you both once again to push you into a nasty mating press.

He’s careful of your injury as he presses your knees into your shoulders, his cock buried into your cunt as the new angle sends sparks of pleasure straight to your stomach, coiling tightly as your release nears.

“Toru- hah- please-” you beg him as you near your release and oh how pretty he thinks you look with pleading glazed eyes looking up at him. He loves to have you folded so beautifully beneath him as he fucks you relentlessly.

His own climax fast approaches as he pounds you into the mattress, letting out a guttural growl. “You take me so well, pretty girl,” he praises you, compliments falling from his lips so easily. “Love the way you say my name like that,” he continues lowly, lowering his head to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. 

“‘M so close, Toru.”

“Atta girl,” he hums, running his tongue along the bruised skin on your collarbone as he leans over you further, reaching down to rub circles over your clit with the pad of his finger.

“Toru-!” You gasp as the coil in your stomach releases suddenly when he introduces the friction of his finger and your walls clench around him. A wave of pleasure crashes over you like a tsunami and you throw your head back into the pillows, scratching harsh red lines into the muscles of Satoru’s back.

He doesn’t slow his pace as he rides out the pleasure with you, feeling each wave of your orgasm as your walls squeeze him and milk his own orgasm from him, sending the same euphoria through his own body. His muscles tense and contract over you as he holds himself up, his body jerking and jolting in time with yours as he paints your walls with his cum, the mixture of both releases pooling and dripping down your ass.

Barely managing to hold himself up, he hisses from the overstimulation as he pulls his throbbing cock from your pussy, a ring of white coating his length. With a groan, he rolls to your side and off the bed to grab a towel. With a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, he cleans the pooling arousal from between your thighs and crawls back into the bed. Immediately, he pulls you into his chest, cradling you so softly you would hardly know he had you in a mating press moments ago.

You bury your face into his neck, giggling when you feel his tail brush your leg. “Do you have no control over that thing?”

“I do,” he hums, “but it makes you laugh so I’m not bothering.”

You grin against his skin, sweat-slicked skin sticking to his as you enjoy his presence in the afterglow of sex. The room is silent save for quiet pants and the occasional thump of Satoru’s tail against the bed.

As you both catch your breath and the air around you grows serene, the quiet thumps of Satoru’s tail eventually come to a halt. The arms that encircle you are no longer clawed, his teeth dulled in his somewhat parted lips.

He looks angelic like this, white hair mussed and lashes fluttering very lightly as your breath fans his chest. There’s a sort of charm to knowing that even if you can’t see it, there’s a happily wagging tail that isn’t all that metaphoric hidden deep within the soft man before you. It’s funny to think of him as a clawed and fanged monster when he’s as goofy and sweet as you’ve come to know him.

You know it won’t be easy to manage a relationship with everything working against you, but somehow you think it just might work. Maybe it’s knowing you can’t possibly go through worse than being attacked by another wolf, maybe it’s how safe you feel wrapped tightly in his arms as his legs tangle with yours, or maybe it’s the fact that you so selfishly want it to work, but you think a future with Satoru sounds like heaven.

If it means becoming a ‘monster lawyer’ or whatever silly idea Satoru would come up with, then you were willing to give it a try for him. Anything for one more moment tucked tightly into the valley of his chest.

masterlist

❦ a/n ; i honestly had a lot of fun with this one and hope you did too ♡ kinda obsessed with werewolf!gojo tbh. fangs make me feral or sm idk. anyways likes/reblogs/comments are always super appreciated! ♡ ❦ taglist ; @ackermendick

[pucksandpower]

Couples Therapy

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: let’s go to couples therapy and see how long it takes the therapist to realize we don’t know each other

You fidget nervously in the waiting room chair, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. This has to be the most ridiculous first date idea ever …but then again, Lando was never one for convention.

The office door swings open and a smiling middle-aged woman in a cardigan beckons you both inside. “Y/N? Lando? I’m Dr. Ramanujan, please come in.”

Lando shoots you a mischievous grin and you can’t help but return it as you follow the therapist into her office. This is already off to a delightfully silly start.

“So,” Dr. Ramanujan settles into her chair, notepad at the ready. “What brings you two in today?”

You open your mouth but Lando beats you to it. “Well doc, it’s like this — Y/N and I have been together for five years now but things have gotten … sticky, you might say.”

You fight back a surprised laugh at his casual lie. Five years? You met this lunatic ten days ago.

Nodding solemnly, you play along. “Yes, unfortunately some issues have arisen that we haven’t been able to resolve on our own.”

“I see,” the therapist jots something down. “And what would you say is the primary issue troubling your relationship?”

Lando strokes his chin in mock contemplation. “You know, now that I think about it, we really struggle with intimacy.”

You splutter, cheeks flushing red. He did not just go there on a first date!

“We’re very passionate people,” he continues effortlessly. “But I think we both have some hang-ups that stop us from really connecting, you know?”

Clearing your throat, you decide to steer into the skid. “Yes, you could say Lando is quite … insatiable in that area.”

Dr. Ramanujan’s eyebrows shoot up but she simply nods. “I see, I see. And how does that make you feel, Y/N?”

“Honestly?” You shrug helplessly. “Exhausted. The man is completely relentless — it’s like he’s an animal sometimes!”

Lando clutches his chest in feigned offense. “An animal? That’s a bit much, don’t you think darling?”

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me,” you snap, pushing aside your amusement at the increasingly absurd situation. “I’m just calling it like I see it. We’re here for honesty, right?”

“Touché,” Lando turns back to the therapist. “Doc, maybe you could help us find … a compromise of sorts? Because my needs are evidently not being met.”

You scoff loudly. “Not being met? Lando, I let you do that thing with the-”

Mercifully, Dr. Ramanujan interjects before you can continue that train of thought. “Perhaps we could steer our discussion in a more productive direction? Intimacy issues often stem from deeper underlying problems within a relationship. Is there anything else concerning you both?”

Lando ponders this for a moment before snapping his fingers. “You know what? I think a big part of it is that Y/N doesn’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you?” You echo incredulously. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. I Flirt With My Teammate Constantly!“

His jaw drops perfectly. “You’re bringing Oscar into this? That’s a low blow, babe.”

“I’m not blind!” You shoot back, doing your best to ignore how silly you both must look. “I see how cozy you two get. Tell me there’s nothing there and I’m a fool!”

“Woah, woah!” Lando holds up his hands defensively. “Oscar and I are just good friends and teammates. Nothing more.”

You cross your arms stubbornly. “If you say so.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room. Dr. Ramanujan seems perplexed by your crazy banter.

Finally, she clears her throat. “Right. Well, it sounds like there are some potential trust issues at play here that we should unpack-”

“Oh I’ll unpack it for you, doc!” Lando interjects, real passion entering his voice now. “Y/N is massively, astronomically insecure about our relationship. She questions my faithfulness at every turn!”

You swivel to face him fully, eyes wide. “And why, pray tell, would I possibly be insecure about that?”

“I don’t know!” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I’ve never given you a single real reason to doubt me!”

“Except for all the pet names and inappropriate touching with Oscar!”

“Those are just friendly gestures!”

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy!”

The two of you are practically shouting at each other now, completely absorbed in your make-believe argument. Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel a bit bad for putting the poor therapist through this, but you’re having far too much fun to stop.

Dr. Ramanujan finally cuts in, raising her palms. “Okay! Okay, let’s all just take a breath, shall we?”

You and Lando freeze mid-rant, remembering where you are. He shoots you a conspiratorial wink and you have to bite your lip to suppress a smile.

“Now,” the therapist continues once the tension has diffused slightly. “Clearly there are some deep-seated resentments and triggers being hit here that we need to unravel. But I think a lot of it comes back to the intimacy and trust issues we were discussing earlier. Y/N, would you say you feel emotionally fulfilled by Lando?”

You ponder this for a moment, drawing out the suspense. Lando watches you with bated breath.

Finally, you sigh deeply. “No doc, I can’t say that I do. And maybe that’s why I’ve been so tempted to stray myself ...”

Lando’s jaw drops perfectly again. “You’ve been tempted to cheat? With who?”

Holding his gaze boldly, you declare: “My yoga instructor, actually.”

“Shane?” He looks like you just slapped him. “But he’s so … so bland!”

You shrug nonchalantly. “What can I say? Opposites attract sometimes.”

Dr. Ramanujan looks like she’s watching a tennis match, unable to get a word in edgewise.

Lando points an accusatory finger at you. “This is unbelievable! You had the audacity to blame me for the intimacy issues earlier when all this time you’ve been lusting after another man?”

“I’m a woman of insatiable needs!” You cry, borrowing his phrasing from earlier. “You said it yourself!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He turns desperately back to the therapist. “Please doc, you have to help us!”

She blinks owlishly a few times before finding her voice. “I … I’m not sure I can be of much assistance here.”

Lando clutches at his chest dramatically. “No, don’t say that! Our relationship is hanging by a thread as it is.”

“If it’s even still a relationship,” you mumble darkly, inspecting your nails with affected nonchalance.

“You see?” Lando pleads with the doctor. “This is what I’m dealing with every day! The constant barbs and lack of trust! I’m at my wit’s end.”

Dr. Ramanujan’s eyes dart between the two of you, seeming to deflate a little more after each deranged declaration. She sets her notepad aside with a resigned sigh.

“Listen, you two ...” she begins carefully. “While I appreciate you being upfront about your ...” she pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “unique situation, I’m afraid it goes well beyond my abilities as a therapist.”

You simply blink at her innocently while Lando dissolves into feigned hysterics beside you.

“But you have to help us!” He cries, flinging himself backwards dramatically. “Our relationship is the only thing I have left!”

You can’t help but let out a small giggle at his antics, quickly disguising it as a cough when the therapist shoots you a look. Dr. Ramanujan just shakes her head slowly.

“I’m sorry, but I clearly don’t have the tools or expertise to assist with … whatever this is.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you. “My advice would be to seek a different form of counseling. Or perhaps … separate for a while until you both figure out what you want.”

Lando clutches at his chest, feigning heartbreak. “Separate? Doc, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m afraid I am,” Dr. Ramanujan states firmly, rising from her chair. “This session has become … unproductive, to put it mildly. I think we should call it a day.”

You open your mouth to protest staying in character, but the defeated look on the poor therapist’s face gives you pause. With a sidelong glance at Lando, you decide to put her out of her misery.

Rising from your own seat, you loop your arm through Lando’s and favor the bewildered doctor with your most winning smile.

“You’re probably right, doc. We’ll, uh, take some time and really think things over. Thanks for your … insight today.”

Dr. Ramanujan simply nods, seemingly too drained to even reply as she opens the door and gestures you both through.

The second you’re out in the hallway, you can’t contain your laughter anymore. You dissolve into a fit of giggles, doubling over and clutching at Lando’s arm for support. He joins in instantly, that mischievous grin stretched wide across his face.

“Oh my god,” you gasp between peals of laughter. “Did you see her face when I brought Oscar into it?”

“I thought she was going to kick us out then and there!” Lando howls, wiping away a mirthful tear. “The things we put that poor woman through ...”

You finally manage to regain your composure, still grinning madly at the ridiculousness of it all. Leave it to Lando to come up with a first date idea as wonderfully insane as fake couples therapy.

“We should do something normal for our next date,” you quip, shooting him a sly look. “Like go skydiving or swimming with sharks.”

Lando matches your playful tone, draping an arm around your shoulders as you meander away from the office. “Whatever you say, darling. Just promise me you won’t leave me for one of the skydiving instructors, yeah?”

You pull him closer with a laugh. “No promises, babe.”

[solxamber]

Roommate Rumble || Vil Schoenheit

You and Vil end up as roommates due to administrative error. Unstoppable force (Vil's perfectionism) meets immovable object (your chaos). It ends up working out perfectly.

and they were roommates!!!!

You’re sitting in the most soul-crushing waiting room imaginable—stale air, uncomfortable plastic chairs, and the smell of desperation. You’re waiting for the housing office to process your late application, which, in hindsight, you should’ve done weeks ago, but hey, it’s college. Time isn’t real here.

Between borderline disastrous drinking sessions, last-minute assignments, and your general vibe of chaos, the fact that you’ve even made it this far is kind of a miracle. But now, thanks to your masterclass in procrastination, you’re about to get assigned a random housemate for the year. At this point, you’re too mentally checked out to care who it is. As long as they don’t steal your ramen, it’ll be fine… probably.

The door swings open, and in walks the most absurdly pretty man you’ve ever seen. Like, this dude looks like he stepped straight off the cover of a magazine. And not just any magazine—like, one of those high-fashion ones where people look all ethereal and judgmental at the same time.

You try not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s got this aura about him, as if he’s too good for this building, this situation, this plane of existence. He walks up to the front desk, where the housing clerk is, predictably, typing at the speed of a snail.

“I’m here to check the status of my application,” the guy says, his voice smooth but with a distinct undercurrent of annoyance.

The clerk squints at her computer, clicks around a bit, then frowns. “Uh… what was your name again?”

The guy rolls his eyes, but still answers with the grace of a runway model, “Vil Schoenheit.”

You nearly choke. Vil Schoenheit? Isn’t that, like, some kind of celebrity? You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him on billboards for fancy skincare products or something. Now you’re really trying not to stare.

“Uh… huh,” the clerk says, now looking vaguely uncomfortable. “It seems… we may have, um, misplaced your form.”

Vil stares at her, and you can practically feel the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. “Misplaced?” he repeats, his tone icy. “You lost my form?”

“W-Well, not lost,” she stammers, “more like, uh, temporarily… not found.”

Vil’s eyes narrow, and you have to hand it to him—he makes passive-aggressive sound like an art form. “And how, exactly, do you plan to rectify this?”

The clerk clicks around desperately on her computer again, clearly wishing she was anywhere else. “Well, um, we’re going to have to randomly assign you a housemate. Since we don’t have time to redo the whole process… y-you’ll just have to— Oh, wait!” She pauses, glancing between you and Vil. “You both applied at the same time, so you can just… be housemates! Problem solved!”

There’s a beat of absolute silence as you and Vil both process this. You glance at him, and he glances back, slowly looking you up and down with the precision of someone scanning for flaws in a diamond.

Finally, he sighs, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Acceptable.”

You blink, unsure whether you should feel insulted or… flattered? He says it with the same tone you’d use to describe a pair of shoes that don’t quite match your outfit, but are passable in a pinch.

You don’t even get the chance to respond because, let’s be real, your brain is still trying to catch up. Did Vil Schoenheit just say you were “acceptable” as a housemate?

Honestly, though, you shrug it off. If you’re being real, as long as he stays in his room and you stay in yours, who cares if you’re housemates with a guy who looks like he bathes in designer moisturizer?

“Great!” the clerk chirps, relieved to have avoided death by model glare. “You’re all set, then! Enjoy your semester!”

You glance at Vil one more time, who’s already looking like he regrets every life choice that led him here. Meanwhile, you’re just hoping he doesn’t judge you for eating pizza rolls at 3 AM.

It's three days into this whole housemate arrangement with Vil, and honestly, it’s not bad. You’ve barely even crossed each other’s paths, which works out perfectly. He does his thing, you do your thing—totally peaceful.

You stumble out of bed one morning, still half-asleep, grab the first set of clothes you can find on the floor (you’re 90% sure these jeans don’t belong to you), and zombie-walk your way to the kitchen. You’re already 15 minutes late to class, but who cares? Time isn’t real, and neither is your motivation.

As you shuffle in, you spot Vil at the counter. He’s sitting there, back straight, eating what looks like a perfect, Instagram-worthy breakfast. It’s all eggs and avocado toast and some kind of smoothie that’s probably made from fruits you’ve never even heard of. He’s impeccably dressed, even though it’s like 7 AM, and you can’t help but be mildly impressed. The guy is a full-time student, works as a model and actor, and still manages to look like he just walked off a red carpet.

Meanwhile, you’re over here in a mismatched hoodie and some band T-shirt from high school, hair resembling a rat’s nest, and the sheer determination of a person who’s willing to eat raw cereal to survive.

You try to be polite, offering Vil a smile. Or at least, what you think is a smile. It’s probably more of a grimace, to be honest. You’re running on fumes, and it shows.

Vil glances at you, eyes narrowing like he’s silently assessing every poor life choice you’ve made up to this point. Still, he says nothing, just gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

You head straight for the pantry, grab a box of cereal, and rip open a Red Bull. Breakfast of champions. You’re about to pour the cereal into your mouth raw, no milk, no dignity, when suddenly—

SMACK.

The Red Bull flies out of your hand, clattering to the counter, and you’re left holding an empty cereal box like some kind of fool. You stare at it in shock, then turn to Vil, who’s looking at you like you just summoned Satan.

“Dude??” You blink, genuinely confused.

Vil crosses his arms, expression disgusted as he points at the stove, where there are some leftovers of whatever perfect meal he made earlier. “That,” he says, enunciating like he’s explaining basic math to a child, “is food. What you were about to ingest is poison.”

You look between him and your spilled Red Bull. “Uh, that was breakfast?”

“No,” Vil snaps, “that was a caffeine overdose waiting to happen. And dry cereal? Have you lost the will to live entirely?”

You’re still processing the fact that he just slapped your breakfast out of your hands when you glance at the stove again. Your stomach growls, and, well, you guess your organs could use something that won’t actively try to kill you.

“Fine,” you mutter, shuffling over to grab a plate. “But if I’m late to class, I’m blaming you.”

Vil barely glances at you as you load up your plate with whatever masterpiece he’s made. “You’re already late,” he says flatly.

“...Okay, fair.”

You sit down at the table, expecting the silence to be awkward, but it’s surprisingly chill. You eat, Vil eats, and for a brief, strange moment, it’s kind of peaceful. You didn’t think breakfast could be… normal. Not with someone like him.

Just as you finish, Vil stands up, wipes his mouth, and gives you a small nod. “You’re welcome,” he says, like he’s just saved your life—which, in his eyes, he probably has. Then he grabs his bag and leaves the kitchen without another word.

You sit there for a moment, fork still in your hand, feeling oddly touched. Then you glance at the clock.

You’re now 30 minutes late to class.

Totally worth it.

You pass out at 4 a.m., your body finally giving in to the pure exhaustion that college life has inflicted on you. You're in that deep, blissful sleep when, at exactly 7 a.m., you're jolted awake by a scream so loud it feels like it rattled the entire room.

At first, you try to ignore it, desperately clinging to the last remnants of sleep. But after a moment, you groggily realize there’s no escaping it. You groan and roll out of bed, stumbling into the hallway with all the grace of a sleep-deprived zombie, not even bothering to change out of your mismatched pajamas.

Standing outside his room, on top of a chair(???), looking absolutely frazzled, is Vil Schoenheit. Hair still perfect, but his usual calm demeanor is gone, replaced by… well, panic?

“What the hell happened?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Vil’s face is pale, and he gestures to the door of his room with a shaky hand. “There’s—there’s something in there.”

Your brain immediately jumps to the worst. An intruder? A stalker? A wild animal? Something actually dangerous? Vil shifts behind you, as you carefully open the door just enough for you to peer inside. You brace yourself, expecting to see something terrifying.

Instead, Vil points dramatically toward the floor. “There.”

You blink. And then you see it—a cockroach. A big one, sure, but still. A cockroach.

You turn to Vil slowly, your face a mask of pure judgment. “You woke me up… for this?”

Vil, now perched on a chair, crosses his arms indignantly. “It’s not about fear. It’s about disgust. I am not touching that.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“...No. No, you don’t.”

Resigned, you grab a cup and a piece of paper from the kitchen. You approach the cockroach like some kind of extermination expert, scoop it up, and open the nearest window. With one swift motion, you throw the unfortunate bug into the outside world, praying it finds a better life somewhere far, far away.

“There,” you say, tossing the cup in the trash. “Crisis averted.”

Vil, still standing on his chair like the floor is lava, steps down carefully, brushing off his clothes with an air of dignity as if he hadn’t just been screaming at a cockroach. “I wasn’t scared,” he says, straightening his posture. “I was disgusted.”

You nod along, patting him on the shoulder with the patience of someone who knows it’s best not to argue. “Sure. No problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Vil purses his lips, his pride clearly a little bruised, but he still offers a tight smile. “Thank you.”

You wave him off as you shuffle back to your room, your bed calling you back like a siren. As you flop onto the mattress, you think to yourself, He might be a diva, but damn, he’s gorgeous.

With that, you pass out again, hoping to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before the universe inevitably conspires to ruin your day again.

You and Vil have settled into an odd but functional arrangement. If not quite friends, you’re definitely acquaintances with benefits — and by benefits, you mean Vil keeps you from dying a slow death via your terrible diet, and in return, you serve as his on-call exterminator for the various bugs your old house seems determined to spawn. It’s a mutual understanding, and lately, he’s stopped questioning your life decisions. Well, not as much.

One afternoon, you’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep and doomscrolling on some social media app, when Vil clears his throat. You jolt upright, momentarily thinking you’re about to get a lecture about posture, only to find him standing there, looking at you in a way that’s… almost awkward?

“What’s up?” you ask, genuinely curious because Vil being awkward is as rare as you cooking anything edible.

Without a word, he hands you an invitation, embossed with gold lettering and all. It's for a performance competition on campus. The kicker? Vil’s participating.

“You want me to come?” you ask, surprised.

He waves a hand, trying to look nonchalant. “Only if you’re available,” he says, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice. He’s trying to play it cool, but the slightest hint of tension betrays him.

You have no plans (unless eating ramen at 2 a.m. counts), so you agree. “Sure, I’ll come.”

The day of the competition arrives, and you actually dress like a normal human being for once. Vil didn’t give you any kind of ultimatum about your outfit, but you figure you should at least try to look like you belong among the living.

You’re in the front row — of course, Vil had VIP tickets to a performance competition. The crowd is buzzing, but you’ve barely noticed because your attention is glued to the stage.

Vil appears, bathed in light, and you swear you’ve just glimpsed into heaven. His voice is smooth and captivating, his moves are graceful, and his gaze? One hundred percent lethal. It’s almost unfair. He’s the kind of performer that could turn someone to stone with a look.

You’re standing there, feeling the ridiculous urge to brag to the people around you that he’s your roommate. “Yeah, that’s right, I share a bathroom with that guy.”

Then, Neige LeBlanche takes the stage. Now, you’ve heard the hype. Neige is the campus sweetheart, the kind of guy who probably smiles at babies and rescues kittens from trees. If Vil is the untouchable beauty you admire from afar, Neige is the best friend you’d want by your side, also weirdly gorgeous.

You expect another powerhouse performance. You’re bracing yourself for it. And then… he starts singing.

Wait.

Is Neige… singing a nursery rhyme?

You blink. The crowd is eating it up, swaying along like they’ve been hypnotized. Meanwhile, you’re just standing there, dumbfounded, the only person in the front row not bopping along.

You glance around, jaw practically on the floor. Is everyone here insane? The man is singing something that you swear you heard at preschool.

And then it happens. Neige wins. The audience erupts into cheers, and you think the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you. What the actual—?

“What the fuck?” The words slip out before you can stop them, loud enough that the people around you turn to stare. Apparently, your disbelief is showing. You even catch Vil’s eye for a moment, and he smirks weakly at your outburst, but it’s clear the loss stung. A little part of you feels something unfamiliar—anger on someone else’s behalf.

You don’t even stay for the encore. It’s either leave or throw something at the stage, and you’d rather not get banned from campus events. You march out of the hall, still fuming.

Later, when Vil returns, you can see it in the slight slump of his shoulders. The air of perfection is still there, but it’s a little cracked around the edges. That anger bubbles up again.

But you have a plan. A master plan.

Vil’s been telling you for weeks that you’d look decent if you just took care of yourself, and you’ve been brushing him off like the human disaster you are. But tonight, for him? You’re willing to make a sacrifice.

So, when he looks at you, barely meeting your eyes, you blurt out, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes widen slightly. “What?”

“Whatever creams, lotions, skincare products—you want to use on me. Go wild. I’ll be your project for the night.”

Vil’s expression lights up like a kid who just found out Christmas came early. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to get this excited about transforming you from a crusty goblin into a passable human, but here we are. And honestly? You kinda owe him at least this much, considering he makes sure you don’t die from malnutrition.

The next hour is nothing short of war. Vil is aggressively applying products to your face like he’s trying to sandpaper your soul clean. His focus is deadly serious, his hands precise as he rubs some fancy serum onto your skin.

Between all the smearing of moisturizers and the occasional Ow!, the two of you start talking. Or rather, you start griping about Neige’s performance.

“I mean, seriously? A nursery rhyme?” you groan, rolling your eyes.

Vil huffs, his fingers moving swiftly over your cheeks. “Don’t remind me. The judges clearly have no taste. What kind of competition rewards… that?”

“Right? I was ready to riot. Your performance was like…” You search for the right words as he smears something cold on your forehead. “It was like watching art come to life, and then he goes and sings Twinkle Twinkle and everyone acts like he just reinvented music.”

Vil laughs—an actual laugh, something deep and genuine that makes the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “You sound like you wanted to run on stage and throw him off.”

“Maybe I did,” you mutter, wincing as he pats something into your skin a little too enthusiastically. “Honestly, the only reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want to get banned from campus events.”

By the time he’s finished, Vil steps back to admire his work like an artist assessing a freshly painted canvas. “There,” he says, his voice softer now. “You look… acceptable.”

“Wow, high praise,” you snort, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Vil.”

He smiles back, something quieter and more genuine. “Thank you.”

You wave him off, already heading to your phone. “So… delivery tonight? I’m thinking chicken?”

Vil wrinkles his nose. “Not fried. How about sushi?”

“Deal,” you grin.

As you place the order, you can’t help but think—yeah, maybe you and Vil are friends now. Weird, slightly dysfunctional friends. But friends, nonetheless.

You’ve been working on this project for months. Countless sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled coding sessions, and a pile of stress larger than your student loan debt have led to this moment. It’s crunch time. You’re this close to submitting your final assignment. You think you deserve a break, so you go to order a coffee—just 10 minutes, tops.

But when you come back? Your laptop, your precious laptop, is gone.

You look around in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Someone stole it. The weeks of coding, months of planning, your entire project, everything. Gone.

You do the only thing you can think of when life throws you a sucker punch like this: you go drink.

You’re a few shots deep when your phone buzzes. It’s Vil. He’s asking, “Are you going to be home for dinner?” His voice is sharp, but you can’t even string together a coherent answer. You let out some garbled mess of a response that’s more slurred syllables than actual words.

There’s a pause, then a very clear “Send me your location. Now.”

Vil shows up at the bar like he’s stepped out of a luxury fashion magazine, a vision of elegance in this grimy little dive. You’re nursing what can only be described as a sad excuse for a cocktail, and he just gives you this look—disapproving, concerned, and about two seconds away from reading you the riot act.

He doesn’t say a word as he helps you out of the bar and drives you home. You can barely sit upright in the passenger seat, mumbling something about losing your laptop. You’re not even sure if he hears you.

Back at home, Vil sits you down on the couch and hands you a glass of water. “Drink,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sip the water, slowly sobering up, though your mind is still a mess. Meanwhile, Vil is pacing back and forth like an actor in a drama, preparing for his monologue. And then it comes. He’s yelling at you, frustration and worry bubbling up to the surface.

“What are you doing to yourself? Why are you so determined to self-destruct?!” he demands. “You eat like garbage, you barely sleep, you pass out at random hours of the morning, and now you’re drinking like you’re on some kind of mission to obliterate your liver!”

You can’t take it anymore. His words break something inside you, and you just… fall apart. Tears stream down your face, and you sob, unable to hold it together any longer.

Vil immediately stops pacing, his expression softening in an instant. He crouches down in front of you, gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice now quiet, almost tender.

You try to explain between hiccupping sobs. “My laptop—it’s gone. I… I worked so hard, and now it’s all gone. Someone stole it.”

Without hesitation, Vil pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “We’ll figure it out.” He holds you like he can somehow undo the theft, like he can bring back what’s lost just by being there. And in that moment, you cling to him, sobbing into his shoulder as if the world could collapse around you and it wouldn’t matter because he’s holding you together.

You wake up hours later, still curled up on the couch, with a hangover so brutal it could bring empires to their knees. But something’s off. You realize you’re not just lying on the couch—no, you’re lying on someone’s lap.

You blink and look up. Vil’s sitting there, talking softly on the phone, one hand gently patting your head. You try to make sense of it, but the pounding in your skull makes that nearly impossible.

“No, Rook, I don’t care how you do it. Just find it.” Vil says into the phone, his hand still idly resting on your head. He doesn’t seem too concerned about you waking up—if anything, he seems almost like he’s daring you to go back to sleep.

And you do.

The next time you wake up, it’s to the world’s loudest human: Rook Hunt.

“Ah, mon ami, I come bearing treasures!” he announces as he swoops into the room, a grin plastered across his face. In his hands? Your laptop.

You sit up, blinking in disbelief. “What…? How did you get my laptop?”

Rook flashes you a sly smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, it was no small feat, but for Vil’s amour—”

“Rook!” Vil snaps, cutting him off with a glare that could freeze fire. “That’s enough.”

You look between them, still not fully understanding what just happened, but you’re too relieved to care. You practically leap off the couch and grab your laptop, hugging it to your chest like it’s your long-lost child.

Before you can stop yourself, you turn and hug Rook, then Vil, a huge grin spreading across your face. Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered gratitude, you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Vil blinks, momentarily stunned by the gesture, but before he can say anything, you’re already dashing back to your room to finish your assignment.

As you shut the door, you can hear Rook’s laughter from the other side.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters to himself, but there’s a warmth in his eyes. Maybe you are a walking disaster, a self-destructive potato. But you’re his favorite potato.

It’s finally the end of the semester, and a little notification pops up on your phone: Housing Applications Now Open.

If you apply now, you could get your old dorm back—no housemate, no interruptions, just you and your tragic life decisions. No one telling you to eat healthy or waking you up at ungodly hours over insect-related emergencies. Just you, alone, in your beautifully chaotic mess. And Vil? He’d probably go back to wherever he was before, maybe with someone like Rook who actually knows how to behave like a normal person.

You should be thrilled by this prospect. A whole apartment to yourself again. But instead, your stomach is doing weird somersaults, and not the normal “I forgot to eat breakfast” ones. This feels... different. Kind of like the time you ate that suspicious leftover curry, except this time it’s your heart that feels like it’s about to implode.

Oh. Oh no.

You sit there for a solid 10 minutes, staring at the housing application, feeling something suspiciously like heartbreak. And being the impulsive disaster that you are, you decide the best thing to do is to blurt out your feelings without any consideration for how unhinged it might sound.

So when Vil comes home, looking elegant and put-together as always, ready to greet you with his usual "Good evening..." you don’t even let him finish. You jump up, and before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, "I’m in love with you. Deeply. Hopelessly. In love."

Vil freezes mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up so fast they might actually fly off his face. There’s a solid beat of silence as he processes what you just said.

“…Excuse me?” He blinks, looking like you just told him you set the kitchen on fire again. “What did you just say?”

You gulp but there’s no backing out now. You’ve committed. “I said I’m in love with you. Like... seriously. I think you might’ve ruined me for life.”

Vil stares at you, and for a second, you’re terrified that you’ve broken him. But then—he laughs. He laughs so hard he doubles over, clutching his sides like you just told the world’s best joke.

You blink, baffled. “Uh... you good?”

Vil wipes at the corner of his eyes, still chuckling. “Oh, potato…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “I love you too, you ridiculous creature.”

“Wait, what?” Now it’s your turn to stare in shock.

Vil sighs, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “I was going to ask if you wanted to room together again next semester. But, you know... in a better apartment. One without bugs or whatever demons this place keeps spawning.”

You blink once, twice, processing his words. He wanted to room with you again? In a better place? Your heart does a little flip in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you’re grinning like an idiot. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Without thinking, you pull him close and kiss him. It’s quick and impulsive, but somehow it feels right. When you pull back, you find Vil smiling at you with something soft in his eyes, like he’s genuinely content.

“Maybe I don’t wanna die young after all,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Vil raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “That’s a start. Now, go drink some water before you pass out from dehydration.”

You laugh, content for the first time in forever. Maybe this whole “life” thing wasn’t so bad after all. At least, not when you had Vil by your side.

Masterlist

guys I promise I don't hate neige I just hated the VDC ending I wanted to off myself fr

[reiderwriter]

ACK I'm so excited that your requests are open again! Um okay, this one feels a bit silly but I'd love a fic where fem!bau!reader is really attracted to Spencer and the way that he smells? (I just KNOW that man smells like cinnamon and a Scholastic Book Fair.) Like, she's been doing a good job hiding her crush from the team, until Spencer catches her eyes dilating at him when he's standing close. And he's an oblivious king, so he's trying to figure out why they were dilated. If it could be race blind like my last request, and from Spencer's POV, that'd be great. (Or split POV, if you'd rather). I really see this as fluff, but if you want to include angst or smut go right on ahead! Thank you for reading my request! Your writing makes my day.

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: This was so fun and silly, and I love writing awkward, puppy love Spencer because sometimes you just have to let yourself become mildly infatuated with a coworker. For the plot. Or at least character development. I hope you like this one!!

Warnings: none.

Masterlist

You thought you'd settled into work well in your first few weeks as a member of the BAU. You thought you were up to speed about everything going on in the office. There was just one mystery left to solve.

“Where is that smell coming from?” You whispered to yourself, frustratedly sniffing the air for the second day in a row as you attempted to locate the warm, delightful smell that seemed to follow you whenever you were in the office.

“Could be one of Garcia's scented candles. They tend to linger,” JJ said from her corner of the bull pen.

“No, I checked earlier and she said they made her throw those out weeks ago.”

Honestly, it was not knowing that was driving you insane. If you knew what the smell was, you could bottle it, spray it all around yourself, and wrap yourself in it like a little blanket. It somehow reminded you of home and of the public library you'd spent much of your childhood in.

After another day of being able to figure out whoever had bought the scent version of the Scholastic Book Fair mixed with homemade cinnamon buns, you gave up. 12 hours of paperwork, and you were just as excited to get away from the sight of brown folders as ever, and as everyone else in the bureau, evidently.

Grabbing your bag, you got in the line for the elevators alongside your team.

“Ready for the crush?” Derek said, punching Spencer Reid on the arm as they waited ahead of you.

“Ow,” the younger man muttered and you tried to hold your giggles back, rolling your eyes as you watched them in amusement.

Derek’s words were true, though. Every day at home time, the elevators packed up quickly, and being on the middle floor meant that it could often take a while for the elevator to come back to you. You swore it was half the reason Hotch stayed late most nights, just to avoid the crush of the trip home.

“I've been taking the DC public transport since I got this job. You think the elevators are bad. Try 8 am subway on a Monday morning.”

The doors opened, and the three of you climbed into the barely there space of the elevator. With a quick side step, you found yourself against the left wall of the elevator. But to your shock, the scent you'd been searching for for three weeks didn't dissipate as it usually did when you got on the elevator.

It was here. The source of the scent was here.

You tried to stay calm as it grew more potent, tried not to frantically look around searching for whatever man or woman was perfumed in heaven. The doors opened again, and more people squeezed in, and suddenly, you found yourself buried nose-first in whatever sensory heaven existed here on earth.

“Sorry,” you heard a mumble in front of you as Spencer held his hand against the wall above your head, trying to keep a polite enough distance so as not to squish you any further. Your mismatching heights, however, led to your face being just about level with his neck.

You really weren't trying to smell him, but you had to inhale, and each time you did, it was a sensory overload.

It was him. Dear God, it was him.

The proximity and his scent really weren't helping your brain stop short circuiting in that moment, and you had to remind yourself after a minute or two or three that you were staring.

Though evidently Spencer had already noticed, and was looking at you with some concern.

“Are you okay? It's pretty tight in here, but I can try and move back if you're uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it's okay,” you did your best not to shout the words out, suddenly wanting his smell and his body close forever.

You hadn't been looking before, but like a freight train at maximum speed, the weight of his attractiveness hit you all at once. There was a slight stubble peppering his jaw, his hair hanging slightly loose, eyes big, and brown, and beautiful. He was tall, and you knew he was strong from watching him manhandle unsubs each week.

To put it blankly, you spiralled. Hard. Straight into infatuation and attraction, and you felt your head growing light with the tipsy feeling of a girlish crush.

You were fucked.

Spencer was concerned about you for the next week.

For starters, he knew that most new hires pushed themselves to the extreme over the first month and ended up quickly burnt out, mentally and physically. He may not have the best physical stamina, but he knew the lengths he had to go to to maintain his mental and physical wellness while working the job.

Which was why he started looking out for you a bit more. Every time he looked at you, you were staring off into space, somewhere just past him, or around him, face glazed over.

He wondered if you had a fever a few times, subtly touching your forehead - wiping away some sweat or a strand of hair - to feel you, and you did always feel hot.

You insisted you were fine though. But the nervous panic, and the constant insistence made him wary enough to pull you aside one day and ask you straight to your face.

“Do you need something?” He said, having unassumingly lured you off to the meeting room without arousing suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” You said, instantly defensive. You'd hoped you hadn't been as creepy as you knew you had and that he hadn't caught on to your stolen glances and sudden close proximity.

You really couldn't help it. The man smelt too fucking good.

“If you're feeling sick, no one is going to think any less of you for taking a half day, you know.”

His voice was so gentle, you almost didn't die from sheer embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh! Oh, oh no, I'm fine, I'm totally healthy. As a cow!”

“A cow?”

“Yes, I'm as healthy as your average farm animal. Can I go back to work?”

You made to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently as you brushed past him, and it was like sparks travelled up your arm and pierced your heart directly.

“Spencer!?” you squeaked.

“Your heart rate is elevated, and you feel hot and clammy,” he said, which was exactly the kind of compliment you were aiming to receive from men you were falling for. “You should go see a doctor and then get some rest.”

“No, Spencer, that's not-”

“Everyone pushes themselves in these first few weeks. I had to take a week off after two days in the field from the weight of holding a gun up for so long, which is more embarrassing than it sounds, and Derek-”

“What cologne do you use?” you snapped, desperately hoping to both shut him up and also detangle yourself from this situation with at least one win under your belt. If you found out whatever the smell was he used, you could buy it, grow accustomed to it, and grow out of whatever phase you were going through before you out your job in jeopardy.

“What?”

“You smell… really good. I was wondering what cologne it is.”

“I don't… I don't really use cologne.”

You baulked, unable to stop your face from dropping as your dreams of detaching yourself from your little crush on Spencer Reid faded before your very eyes.

“Shower gel? Shampoo maybe?”

“They're both unscented.”

“So you just… you just smell like that naturally?”

It was his turn to flush then, though the panic never left your head fully.

“Sorry, is it… distracting.”

“Yes,” you whispered, but with such an exhausted exhale, it sounded like a dreamt sigh. You wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to open his jacket, step inside, bury your face in his chest, and fall asleep.

“I see.”

“Mhmm.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, and you wanted to kick yourself for blurting everything out. Quickly turning to leave again, you wished so dearly to erase the last five minutes of your life, sending up enough hail mary’s to absolve you of any sin.

“Lavender. And sometimes patchouli,” he called from behind you as you took your first steps to the door.

“Hmm?” you said, turning back around against your better judgment.

“What?”

“That's what you smell like,” he explained, hands suddenly very preoccupied with his jacket buttons. “I'm not great with scents, but you also smell… nice. Sorry, that was weird.”

“No, not at-”

“You know, the major histocompatibility complex genes are important for the immune system and appear to play a role in sexual attraction via body odour. Studies have shown that body odour is strongly connected with attraction in heterosexual females.”

“Oh. I didn't know that…”

“Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

The words almost knocked you back into the door, as sudden as they were. Had he just asked you on a date? Or was it a friendly coworker thing? A friendly coworker thing where he acknowledged your attraction to his scent and then invited you out on a date.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to get dinner with you.”

He did his best to suppress the smile, and you tried hard as well, though neither of you succeeded.

“Great, perfect,” he said, circling you as he made his way to the door, his eyes always turned to you no matter what. He likely regretted that as he bumped into first the edge of a table, then a chair, and then hitting the door with his back, but in your state of puppy love, you didn't care.

“It's a date,” he said, opening the door and walking away, cheeks flushed with heat.

[unequivocallyreid]

Do You Get It Yet?

hi guys!! this is one day late, but i literally fell asleep trying to proof read last night, so… you win some you lose some.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid is your professor and you really, really need help. If only he wasn’t so distracting.

warnings: smut, little bit of fluff, professor/student relationship, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives, age gap (both parties of age), breeding kink, choking, and some light degradation

this is a fun one guys! let me know what you think!

You swear you aren’t stupid. Really, honestly you aren’t. You’ve done well in school your whole life, not always outstanding, but you’ve always done well.

Right now however, you feel completely dumb. You’re in you third year of university, and up to this point, you’ve done good. Your classes are challenging but rewarding, and you have a wonderful group of people in your life. You have a cat and an apartment to yourself. You have wonderful friends, Lena and Eden, who’ve been with you since your freshman year and who you loved like sisters. Everything in your life was going right, except for your stupid, stupid criminal psychology class.

You should love it. You’ve taken classes like it before and they really weren’t a problem for you, but for whatever reason, you can’t wrap your head around the subject matter at all. Everything you learn seems to morph together and you can’t get it to sort itself out. Your teacher, Dr. Reid, is incredible. He is a genuine genius, member of the BAU (your dream job), and to top it off, he is incredibly attractive. Not just to you either! Half the class is auditing, which probably contributes to your troubles. It’s hard to focus when everyone around you is constantly whispering about how fucking hot the teacher is.

You try to avoid it. You sit at the front of the room, not the first row, but still front and center. Even so, right behind you are two or three girls who will not stop talking about him. Sure, they’re saying what you’re thinking, but good god does it get annoying. You’ve tried pointed looks, a few aggressive hair flips and humphs, and even a few well timed shushings, but they will not let up. You’d move seats but the class is full and everyone has seemed to have already found a place.

So, really, your lack of understanding was not only on you. Dr. Reid us distractingly hot, the girls behind you will not shut up, and the subject matter is just plain tricky. All of this leads you to spend a big chunk of your free time in your professors office hours, which always seem to be full.

You get it. Girls, and some boys, show up looking their best and asking all sorts of questions, and honestly if you were in a different position you’d probably do the same thing. But, you aren’t, and you really need help. You go to his room completely disheveled with a notebook full of questions that for the most part stayed unanswered. You’re lucky to get five minutes of his undivided attention. Again, you get it, those minutes are the highlights of you week, but, your grade is starting to slip.

Finally, it gets to be too much, and you find yourself spending nearly the whole class building up the courage to ask to speak with him privately. Right when he concludes his lecture you spring up out of your seat and go straight to him, surely annoying some of your other classmates.

“Dr. Reid?”

He looks up from his desk, “Hi! Ms.?”

“Y/n. Or Y/l/n, I guess. I was hoping to talk to you privately if you had time?”

“Oh! Um, sure, of course. Let me just wrap up here. You can wait in the seats.”

This has already gone better than you thought it would. Half of you expected the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be gibberish.

“Thank you so much.”

You hurry off to take a seat and wait, and wait, and wait. Around five other people stay around to try and speak with him, and while you catch him anxiously glancing over at you, each conversation still seems to stretch on and on. Finally, after close to 15 minutes, the final student leaves and it’s just you and Dr. Reid left in the room.

He looks over at you and motions for you to join him at his desk, “I’m so sorry that took so long. People tend to have a lot of questions after my lectures.”

You take a seat in front of him, “It’s no worries. That was actually part of what I wanted to speak to you about.”

You pause, wondering how you should word what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to go on, but he doesn’t seem impatient.

“I’ve come to all your office hours, and it helps, I’m just still struggling and I, uh, I just feel like it’s not enough time to get my questions answered, I guess?”

You’re looking at anything but him at this point, “I’m sorry I’m just kinda out of my element. I love this subject and normally it clicks for me, but it’s just won’t. I have a notebook full of questions and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure anything out. Sorry, I think I’m just rambling at this point.”

“No, don’t apologize, I understand. This class is challenging, and a lot of the subject matter is hard to research.”

He stops to laugh, “My office hours do tend to be pretty full. I’m, well to be honest I’m not sure why. A lot of the questions people have tend to be things I explained in my lectures.”

Without thinking, you cut him off, “I think people just want to be around you.”

He looks surprised at your words, and you are as well. You didn’t mean to say that at all.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It’s just with a teacher that looks like you, god, no. I mean with a teacher like you-“

Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, “You know what, I think I can figure this out on my own! I’m sorry for-“

He stops you before you can finish, “Y/n, I’ve taught this class before. Half the people are auditing. I’ve gathered what that means.”

He cracks a smile at that and you feel your heart flutter.

“I meant I’m not sure why people would waste their time trying to, uh, impress me at office hours. They’re meant for students like you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do on that front. My hours are open to anyone.”

Your shoulders deflate a bit at that, worrying you’ve wasted your time and his for nothing. He doesn’t let you stay like that for long though.

“I want to help you though. Truly. I know reaching out for help is hard and I’m glad you did.”

You look up at him then, “I can set aside some time for you once a week if you’re comfortable? We can review everything you’re not sure on until you’re up to speed.”

You were not expecting that. You thought he’d look over your questions and give you some articles and journals to review at best.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t. I’m offering, Y/n.”

“Then I think yes, I’d like that a lot.”

“Great! Email me some times that work for you and we’ll get started.”

~

This is all, admittedly, a bit above your pay grade.

Despite your best efforts, you are not a chill girl. You’re not very cool. There’s nothing wrong with that usually! You’re shy, but still manage to talk people’s ear off. It’s normally a non-issue: that’s just how you are. Today however, you are meeting with Dr. Reid and you are so not chill about it.

You had his class yesterday, and while you feel better knowing you’ll finally have help, you couldn’t focus on anything but today, so you retained nothing. All you can think about is saying something stupid or off putting and having him start to despise you.

You know you shouldn’t worry this much. He’s a professional, you’re trying to be, it should all go smoothly. They’re just the issue of the colony of butterflies who have taken up residence in your stomach. You’re nervous, so nervous, and you are not the type to get this crazy over some guy. Yes, Dr. Reid is probably the hottest person you’ve ever met, but he’s still human! You think… the fact that he’s some sort of super genius with multiple (multiple!) phds does not help to calm you.

Your entire walk to Dr. Reid’s office is spent worrying over all of this. In fact, you’re so caught in your head you find yourself barreling into someone’s back as you walk through the door of the psychology department.

You rush to squeak out an apology while picking up your notebook, but are stopped short when you look up. It’s Dr. Reid. Of course it’s Dr. Reid. You seem unable to be in the same vicinity of him without making a fool of yourself, so why would today be any different. You’d hoped to be able to manage yourself for the better part of an hour, but your professors unbelievably solid back has literally knocked you on your ass.

You do notice a ghost of a smile on his face when you look up, and you’d like to think he’s admiring you clumsiness, but it’s not likely.

“Hi,” you manage to say after a near excruciatingly long silence.

“I’m really sorry, I clearly wasn’t looking at where I was walking.”

He laughs a bit, “It’s no problem honestly. You were the one knocked off your feet, so I really can’t be upset aside from the fact you may have hurt yourself.”

This makes you breath hitch a bit. Maybe you are incredibly starved for attention from the male gender, but the slight affection of his words made you blush.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

If you were any more articulate you’d be a public speaker, but at least you always seem to make the man in front of you laugh.

“I was on my way to my office to meet with you, but since I already have, you can walk with me.”

You nod, pushing yourself off the ground, then blush again when you realize you had this entire conversation on the ground.

The walk is silent, and you’re sure it’s more uncomfortable for you than it is for him. Any question you had has completely exited your mind, and all you can think about is how good he looks in a suit, and how much staring you can reasonably get away with.

Your first session is sweet. You manage to hold it together in Dr. Reid’s presence. He is incredibly helpful one on one, and you feel more confident about the class than you have in weeks. Before you finish, he asks if you’d like to meet again.

“Yeah, if that’s alright. This helped so much, but I think I still probably need to do some more catch up work.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Y/n, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering something, before going on.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you my cell. I want you to be able to reach me if you need to reschedule, especially if we continue meeting, and it’s a bit easier than email.”

You’re a bit stunned but manage to reply, “Of course! But, um, is that allowed? I don’t want to over step.”

He looks away from you for a moment before replying, “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe we just don’t tell anyone?”

You have to bite back a grin, but you nod nonetheless and exchange numbers.

Although you know you shouldn’t be, you’re giddy the entire walk home.

~

So far, you’ve met with Dr. Reid three times and haven’t had to use his number once. Not that you’d been looking for an opportunity to though! It just hasn’t come up at all until today.

It’s been raining all morning, which normally you wouldn’t mind, but you’re slightly under the weather and the thought of walking to campus and risking getting more sick doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Though it’s not normally an issue, moments like this make you really wish you had a car.

You’ve asked everyone you knew for a ride, but they were all busy.

Currently, you were on the phone with Lena, listening as she tries to calm you down.

“He gave you his number, Y/n. Just text him and say you’re sick and can’t make it.”

“It’s the day of though! I don’t want to come off as unprofessional.”

“Babe, again, you have his number. Your relationship isn’t exactly the most profesh in the first place.”

“It’s not like that, Lena.”

“Just text him. Over explain everything like you know you want to. He’ll probably think it’s cute, maybe he’ll even offer to come take care of you.”

You can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but, still, you rush to defend him.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say, babe. I gotta go, but text him. It’ll be fine.”

You say your goodbyes, and deep down you know she’s right. About texting him, not the shy sort of seduction act she thinks you have.

After contemplating for a few more minutes, you type out your message and hit send.

You: Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Y/n from your criminal psych class. I know we’re supposed to meet today, but I’m feeling like I have a bit of a cold coming on and don’t want to risk walking in the rain.

You: I’m sorry it’s late notice, if I could get there I would, scout’s honor.

You were never in girl scouts. You don’t actually know why you said that at all, but it’s too late to take it back now.

As much as you try not to, you watch your phone screen, waiting for a response.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. You see a typing bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, before finally two messages come through.

Dr. Reid: I completely understand. Don’t worry.

Dr. Reid: I could come to you? If you’re comfortable.

When you read that, you feel your stomach drop to your ass. You decidedly not expect him to offer anything like that. A few things fly through your mind, but mainly that Lena may have been right, and having your professor come to your apartment is, at least, frowned up by admin. Still, the image of him in front of you, in your home, with your cat, is too much to resist.

With shaking fingers, you text him back.

You: That would be wonderful if you’re sure you’re okay with it.

You: Friendly warning, I have a very affectionate cat.

Dr. Reid: Good to know. Is 4 still alright?

You shoot him back a quick yes and your address, and then get to cleaning every square inch of your apartment.

~

Dr. Reid is an angel on Earth.

When you hear a knock at your door, you have to stop before answering to regulate your breathing. When you finally do, you see your professor in front of you in a cardigan (a fucking cardigan) and togo cup of tea that he immediately hands to you.

It’s all like a hopeless romantics wet dream. Hot professor, in the rain, at your house, who clearly cares about you in some way? It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You step aside to let him in and move to your couch, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

He stands for a moment before sitting at the opposite end and saying through a laugh,“The tea or coming over?”

“Both, I guess? I just feel bad that Ive take up so much of your time. I feel like a bit of an inconvenience.”

“Y/n, please stop worrying so much over this. I want to help you learn, it’s not an inconvenience or a both or unnecessary.”

You really look at him then, trying to read whether or not he’s being genuinely. He just seems too good to be true, like he’s a fiction character made just for you. Well, not just for you, but in your fantasies that’s how you’ll think about it.

The next couple hours are spent reviewing material you are sure he taught weeks ago and stealing glancing at his mouth when you are sure he is not looking. Your kitty makes a few appearances too, and seems to have formed an instant attachment to the doctor. You are not as sly with your staring as you’d like to think, and get caught a few too many times. Honestly, you are trying desperately not to think about anything but academia, but he makes it so unbelievably hard. Not to put the blame on him for your insatiability, but jesus fuck. Intelligence has always been incredibly sexy to you, and it oozes from him

Despite the distraction, you’ve been doing good in terms of building your understanding. Now however, you are on the verge of tears, chocking down a knot in your throat as you try to make sense of anything coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth. This has to be the third time he’d tried to explain it to you, and while this is the entire point of these meetings, you feel like a failure.

The doctor is lost in his own world, trying desperately to explain the concept in a digestible way, so he doesn’t notice your state. That is, until you sniffle, just slightly, and immediately avert your gaze.

He cuts himself off, “Y/n? Are, are you okay? What’s wrong.”

It’s too much, so too much. What kind of dick asks something like that, with that much care in his voice. You can’t help the tears starting to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t understand it.”

He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and says, “Y/n, it’s okay-“

“No. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot. No, not fucking, I didn’t mean to say fuck in front of you. God this is terrible.”

You’re fully crying at this point, and you can’t bear to look at Dr. Reid.

He stays silent for a moment, before you feel movement on the couch and look up to see he is much closer to you.

“You’re incredibly intelligent, Y/n. I, I would never judge you for needing help.”

You bury your face in your palms, and, very eloquently, try to speak through them.

“Sir, you really don’t need to say that. I know I should have been able to grasp this weeks ago, all of this.”

“Spencer.”

You look up, “What?”

“My name is Spencer. You don’t have to call me sir or Dr. Reid. I’d like for you to call me Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer then. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I really don’t know why I thought any of this would help, clearly there’s something seriously wrong with-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your jaw, guiding you to look up. Dr. Reid’s hand. Spencer’s hand, and it’s gentle and he’s staring at you, and you feel like your skin is on fire underneath his palm.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n. You’re one of the most capable, intelligent people I’ve ever met. I’m breaking nearly 20 different codes of contact by being here, but I can’t help it.”

You feel all your words caught in your throat, and all you can fucking think about is his hand and his eyes and his lips. You don’t know what else to do, so, in an act of unusual bravery, you push forward and press your lips to his.

The response is immediate. All thoughts in your head are gone and replaced by a mantra of Spencer’s name. You feel his hands move to the nape of your neck, holding you to him, and his lips pressing yours open so he can glide his tongue over yours. You’re breathless and ruined, and when he pulls back you’re too struck by him to speak.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before”

Your forehead is pressed to his and you breath out, “Show me.”

The hand on you tightens its grip, but the man before you pulls back a bit, and it becomes your only point of contact.

“I, I can’t. I’m your teacher, I’m nearly 20 years older than you. I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”

“I kissed you. I want you, this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”

“It’s wrong, Y/n.”

“I don’t care. I want you, Spencer.”

Hearing you say his name must break his resolve, because in a moment his lips find yours again, and he’s pulling you into his lap.

To recap, you’re in your home, on your couch, straddling the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and his lips are trailing down your neck and over your clavicle. You put your arms around his neck, threading your hands through his hair and experimentally rolling your hips against his.

His hands grab your hips, stilling your movement, and breaks from his assault on your neck to say, “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that, Y/n. I need to know what you want.”

“I want all of it, doctor.”

The honorific must do something for him, because he growls low in his throat before once again connecting with your lips. The same hands that just stilled your movement now guide your hips to press into him harder. You feel his length beneath you and moan into his mouth.

You’d fantasized about this for months, but now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel him every where, and he knows exactly what to do and whisper in your ear to drive you fucking crazy.

You move your hands from his hair and break from his lips to pull your shirt off. You make eye contact with him and then reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, leaving that part of yourself entirely exposed to him.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

The expletive takes you by surprise for a moment, but you snap out of it quickly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your chest. He moves quickly from that point, cupping your breast in his hand and toying with your nipple. Your lips find his again, and you feel him move to flip you, but you stop him before he can.

“Bedroom, Spencer. Please.”

He nods and you climb from his lap. On your way to the room, he discards his shirt. You can’t help but ogle his frame. He’s slender and sinewy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The angles and curves of his frame fit

together to create the perfect portrait of a man. He has scars littered over his arms and torso, but they don’t phase you.

You’re under him on the bed now, your core raising to meet his desperately.

“You’re so beautiful. So beautiful, I’m so lucky.”

His words cause a blush to form on your cheeks, which you can barely focus on as his hands are in the process of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

“God, Y/n, you’re soaked.”

You whine as his fingers make contact with where you need him most.

“Is this all for me, Y/n? Tell me.”

“You. Only you.”

“Jesus, Y/n.”

If someone had asked hours ago you what you thought your professor would be like in bed, this was the last thing you would’ve said. Not that anyone would ask… but still. He’s nerdy and adorable, and while his looks are literally to die for, he doesn’t scream ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out’.

His fingers pick up their pace on your clit as you find yourself trying to undo his belt. You’re desperate to see him as bare as you are. He stops to help you get his pants down, and when you see him in his full glory you feel a little faint.

“You’re so big.”

He lets a little whine slip through, “Yeah? Biggest you’ve had?”

You blush a little at his tone. As much as you’re trying to fake it, you don’t have as much experience in this field as one might expect for a girl your age.

“I’ve only been with one other person, so yeah.”

Your candor is decidedly not sexy, and you really have no clue why you would say that right now. The man above you does not seem deterred though, if anything it spurs him on.

“Fuck, Y/n. Didn’t know you were so innocent.”

You blush again, but reach to grab him, trying to prove how good you can be. He’s heavy in your hand, and part of you worries how he’ll fit. You know you’re programmed to accommodate, but the thought is daunting.

He must sense your concern when he says, “Don’t worry, love. Gonna stretch you out for me.”

With that, his fingers resume their previous task, and he slowly moves down to trace your entrance with his middle finger. The sensation has you spinning, and let breathless moans leave your body he slowly starts to open you up. His fingers are long and precise in their movements. Every time he thrusts into you, they graze a spot that sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, Y/n. So, so good for me.”

You can barely breathe, and your climax comes closer with every passing second. When his thumb moves to press over your clit and his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, you’re done for.

“Good girl, Y/n. Coming so pretty on my hand.”

Your orgasm is stupefying, and all you can think or say is Spencer’s name. You grab at him, desperate to find something to ground you, and you hear him moan as your nails dig into his back. He doesn’t stop for a moment, continuing to press into you and riding you through your high.

Once you come down, though you can still feel your legs shaking, you want more. You want all of him. You take him in your hand again, pumping up and down his shaft at a lazy pace.

“Spencer, I need you to fuck me.”

He laughs, his hand still on your core, “Ask nicely, Y/n. You come on my fingers and all of a sudden your manners disappear?“

You didn’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me, I need it.”

“Good girl,” he takes your wrist and leads your hand to your mouth. “Spit.”

You aren’t exactly sure what he’s doing. You think he might be teasing you more, letting you work him over until you beg, but he answers all your questions quickly.

He guide your hand back to grab him, helping you jerk him off before he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance.

In his first Dr. Reid like moment in the last hour he stops and asks, “Fuck do you have a condom? I obviously didn’t think we’d do this, so I don’t have anything on me.”

You’re panting with anticipation at this point, but still manage to get out, “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you.”

His eyes go soft for a moment, before he continues his previous mission. He lines up again with you, before teasing your slit with the head of his cock. If you didn’t want him so bad, you could’ve come like this, but you are desperate. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the point, and he does.

“I could play with you all day if you’d let me, Y/n.”

You want to protest, and tell him to get on with it, but you don’t have to. You feel his tip

slowly pushing into you as he lets out a groan.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He’s slow and careful, and you can’t remember sex ever feeling this good. You know he isn’t all the way in, but you already feel so full. When he does reach the hilt, you let out a low moan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you, filling you in a way that is unbelievably good. He stays still for a moment before slowly pulling back and thrusting into you.

You can tell he’s being gentle, but hard enough and fast enough to have your legs start shaking more heavily again. You already feel a pit in your stomach, and you know you’re going to come, for a second time, embarrassingly fast.

“Fuck yes. So good for me, Y/n.”

The way your name sounds in his mouth drives you crazy. The only thing you can think about is how badly you want this moment to go on forever. Everything about him is perfect. Even now, while fucking your brains out (literally, you could make yourself say a word even if you wanted to), he’s cupping your head in his hand and telling you how beautiful you are.

Now that you’re more accustomed to the size of him, he takes your thigh, pushing it up to your chest, and starts too fuck into you faster and harder. His pelvis rubs over your clit with every thrust, driving you crazy. Your hands are in his hair and down his back, grabbing and clawing at him.

“You love taking this cock, huh baby? Can’t even talk, huh?”

His words go straight to your core, but you know what you need to come again. You guide his hand up near your sternum and manage to cry out a few words.

“Please, need it. Need you.”

He takes your request to heart and moves his hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. You feel yourself get light headed in the most incredible way. Tears are forming in your eyes. The feeling is so intense.

“So perfect for me. Such a smart girl and you’re just gonna let me fuck you dumb?”

You’re close, and you can feel the pit in your stomach start to spread and take over. Spencer’s hand on your throat tightens slightly, and it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming on him.

“Coming. Fuck, Spence you’re making me come.”

“That’s right. Come all over me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your vision is going white at the edges and you feel like your whole body is shaking.

“Fuck, gonna come just watching you. Gotta pull out, baby.”

You grab him before he can, “No! Want it inside me.”

He groans above you and you feel his hips stutter.

“Fucking Jesus. Want me to fill you? Make this you mine?”

You nod, the tears now falling down the sides of your face.

“Gonna come, baby.”

You can feel when he does. His dick is pulsing in you, filling you completely, just like he said he would.

When he comes down, he pushes his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. For a while, he just lays there, kissing you.

“Gonna pull out now. Gotta clean you up.”

You whine, but nod regardless. You feel empty at the loss of him, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you feel a warm towel wipe around your centre.

“You gotta go pee, Y/n. Don’t want to develop a UTI.”

Five minutes ago this man was coming inside of you, and now he’s back to being the man who came to your house in the rain with tea. You do know he’s right though, so you pull yourself out of your bed on shaking legs and make your way to your bathroom.

When you come back in, you find Spencer with his pants back on. Your heart breaks a little.

In a small voice you ask, “Are you leaving?”

He looks up at you then, “Do you want me to stay?”

You don’t know why you wouldn’t.

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”

You can feel tears welling up again, but these are different from before; he notices immediately.

“Baby, baby don’t worry. I don’t want to go, I just didn’t want to over step.”

You laugh a little at that, wiping your eyes, “I think we’ve gotten over all the steps, Spencer. I, I want - Just please stay.”

He nods and moves to take off his pants before sliding into place next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and you feel a tingle in the spots where he touches you.

“I don’t want to have this be a one time thing,” you blurt out.

You feel him hold you a little tighter then.

“I was never planning that, Y/n. Now, sleep. We can talk about how much I’ve come to adore you tomorrow.”

END!! i hope you all love it!

tag list! (leave me comment if you want to join and i’ll add you): @sabage101

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Now You’re Mine-Modern Mafia!Aemond

(This is a Mafia!Aemond/Mafia!Targaryen family fic that I’ve been working on for a little while. However I saw a post the other day of someone mentioning wanting to read Mafia!Aemond and it got me back into this to finish it. I hope everyone likes it because I definitely want to write more like this for our one eyed bby)

Aemond had been your best friend for years now. Helaena and you had met the first day of college and the two of you had become inseparable, leading to her actually offering you a job at her brothers company. That’s how you and Aemond first met, though sadly at that point you already had a job at your boyfriends publishing company (it was actually his fathers but it would be his someday and he knew how to act like it).

Every day that you weren’t with Jason Lannister you would be with Aemond. He somehow always seemed to have off days when you did, always available for you whenever you wanted or needed him.

Aemond was always there for you, often spending last minute evenings with you when your boyfriend had to work late again. You always found it sweet how much it bothered Aemond that he wouldn’t take a day off for you or spend any time with you other than work or your date nights but you didn’t mind.

“That’s exactly why you deserve it Love, you don’t expect people to take time off for you, but you deserve to be someone’s most important, if you were mine you’d be my priority…”

You often found yourself wondering what could have happened if you had never met Jason but even then Aemond was like a Greek God. Even with the eye patch (which in your opinion only made him hotter) he was 1000% out of your league.

However you could always count on him, that’s why he was your first call when Jason fired you upon you catching him fucking his assistant in his office.

‘You can’t fire me just because I caught you cheating, that’s against the law! I would sue the fuck out of you!’ You glared as he pulled his pants back on without a worry in the world which made you even more angry. He clearly didn’t care that you had caught him in the least...

‘You’re kidding, right? Y/n, you’re a girl I gave a job to because you had a tight pussy and a good work ethic. You’re also broke as fuck.’ He cackled.

Well…he wasn’t wrong about that…

‘I have my fathers lawyers, they would tie you up in court until you’re destitute and homeless, then you’ll be wishing you had shut your sweet little cock sucker and just accepted being fired…are you rethinking your response to me now sweetheart?’ He asked condescendingly and you glared.

‘Don’t ever call me that again!’ He rolled his eyes, catching his assistant, Madison’s arm as she tried to leave the awkward conversation.

‘You always did have an attitude. Alright, let’s do it like this. Clean break. You leave now, I keep what’s mine and you keep what’s yours, and the company pays you in full for 3 months so you can find another job. You’ll never find a better one but at least it won’t be on my conscience when you are selling yourself on the street.’ He snorted, pulling some papers out of his desk and signing a few things.

How had you not seen how big of a dick this guy is?

You had of course, but you had assumed you were the exception…how stupid could you be? Every night he was “working late” or on a “business trip”…he was cheating on you…so fucking stupid!

‘Fine. Give me the papers and I’ll be gone.’ You responded but he pulled them out of your reach.

‘Clean break. You give back everything I gave you.’ He looked at your neck and you rolled your eyes, removing the necklace he had given you.

‘You think I care about your cheap jewelry? Keep it!’ You snapped, removing the bracelet and the earrings as well.

‘Cheap? Okay…well then you don’t need my cheap clothes either. I bought you that outfit.’ Your eyes widened as the smirk grew on his face, however you would not let this asshole win. And honestly you would never see any of these people again…fuck it!

It was Jason’s turn to look shocked as you began unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it off, tossing it to his table before removing your skirt as well and holding your hand out for the paperwork. He just stared in shock and you snatched the papers, seeing them already signed by him. ‘I’ll collect my things and be on my way.’ You held in the tears as you walked from his office, everyone clearly knowing what had happened as it wasn’t quiet at all, and the tears finally fell as you got to your door and shut it, moving to grab your cellphone quickly and hesitating as you considered who to call. All of your friends are his friends…you could call Helaena but she’s on vacation with her boyfriend Cregan for their anniversary this week, Aemond is working…but he said to call anytime you needed him and this felt like an emergency as you stood there in your bra and panties…you bit the bullet and hit his contact which was the first number in your phone.

‘Hello Love, what’s up? You never call at work. Been missin’ me?’ He teased but all you could do was sniffle and continue crying. ‘Hey…what’s wrong hun? You can’t call me crying and not talk to me, what’s happened?!’

‘Can-Can you come g-get me? Please? I can’t call an Uber like this…please?’ You knew you didn’t need to beg but it just came out, Aemond always made you feel safe.

‘I’m on my way right now! Give me 5 minutes Love, I’m coming! Do you need anything?’

‘I’m g-gonna need a change of c-clothes…I’m sorry!’ He shushed you instantly, telling his driver something before speaking again.

‘Don’t you ever apologize to me, you know how much I adore you, that will never change and as soon as that idiot fucks up I’ll be right there. But until then I will be personally offended if you don’t call me when you need help…do you want to tell me what happened?’

‘I’ll tell you in the car. I have to get my stuff and clean my face-I can’t go out there like this…can you just text me when you’re here?’ I asked and he huffed a sigh.

‘Okay. I’ll be there in 3 minutes.’ With that he hung up, leaving you to wonder how many traffic laws were being broken today. You moved to pack everything into your purse, making sure you had everything that was yours and everything you couldn’t bear to leave behind. You also grabbed your client list just in case because you knew most of them wouldn’t want to work with anyone else and you would happily give their business to Aemond’s uncle Daemon’s publishing company instead (the man adored you from the moment Helaena first brought you to a family BBQ and he often turned his nose up at mentions of your boyfriend, Daemon Hates All Lannisters!). You looked through all of your drawers just hoping to find a jacket or something but there was nothing leaving you in your bra and panties. At least it was a cute set, you had gotten it on a day trip with Aemond and Helaena who had enjoyed shopping for clothes with you, dragging you into an overtly expensive lingerie shop. It had just been you dreaming of the expensive clothes at first but Aemond insisted and bought you 4 sets. He tried for 10 more but you drew the line…at least he has taste in choosing the lacy embroidered black bra and pantie set, and Thank God it’s not a thong that you’re wearing today!

It was exactly 3 minutes when Aemond texted you that he was walking in and you quickly told him to wait in the lobby. You grabbed your bag and left the keys hung on the door as you walked out, everyone staring at you yet again as you got onto the elevator. One of Jason’s asshole buddies did a double take as he stepped out and tried to step back in.

‘No! Out!’ You hissed and he listened, clearly smarter than his friend is. As the elevator dinged you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the laughter at your sad, pathetic situation. Aemond had repeatedly told you to break up with the asshole you were dating and now he was going to get to say “I told you so”.

As you walked around the front desk he turned to see you and his jaw dropped in shock, it was a face you had never seen Aemond make honestly as his wide eyes took you in. As if his brain finally finished computing what he was seeing he moved towards you quickly, ripping his jacket off and wrapping it around you, taking your bag and holding the jacket shut.

‘Fucking Christ! What Happened Y/n?!’ He demanded but his yelling only brought another round of tears which ended with him pulling you close and holding you to his chest. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe now Pretty Girl, I’ve got you.’ He lifted you up awkwardly across his chest so that he could make sure the jacket didn’t move and expose you all over again before he carried you out of the building. You could tell from the way he was walking that he was livid and you just nuzzled your face closer into his neck, knowing that Aemond loved it when you snuggled into him. He climbed into the car and held you on his lap as he snapped at Arryk to drive you both home.

‘No-you have to work! I don’t want-‘

‘Don’t even dare Y/n! You are way more important than a couple of meetings. Arryk will text Aegon and let him know that we need to reschedule, besides he has done this to me so many times because of his never ending hangovers, it’s nice to get him back.’ He joked, clearly just trying to make you smile but you didn’t. ‘Please tell me now Love? What happened?’ His voice was soft and caring which somehow just made it worse as you roughly wiped at your tears all over again which he stopped, taking your hands and holding them in one of his much larger ones, pulling out his pocket square and wiping your face softly. ‘Breathe Y/n, you’re okay now. No one will ever hurt you again…just trust me.’

His eye was so soft as he looked down at you and you knew you could trust Aemond with anything.

‘Jason cheated on me…he was fucking her in his office when I came in…I was pissed but I was even more pissed when he fired me-‘

‘He can’t fire you for that! That’s-‘

‘I know. But he made it clear that I would be broke and homeless by the time it even got to court. He signed papers to pay me for 3 months so I can find a job, I just had to return everything he gave me…thank you for buying me the underwear or I might be naked right now.’ You teased but he did not seem to find humor in the situation.

‘Did you sign anything?’ You shook your head, pointing to the paperwork sticking out of your bag and he took them, looking over it and never once letting you free from the grip that he had on you. ‘Don’t worry Princess, I’m going to take care of this. He will pay for this, I promise you.’

Aemond pressed his lips to your head, keeping the jacket wrapped around you firmly.

‘I need to sign them to get the money, I’m not going to be able to pay my-‘

‘You don’t need to pay for anything. I’m taking care of you now-‘ you lifted your head quickly and he looked down at you, the look in his eye daring you to argue with him right now.

‘I can’t let you pay my bills Aem, that’s not right. It’s my fault that I-‘ not a second later Aemond’s large hand closed over your mouth and your eyes widened.

‘Nothing is your fault! Do you understand me?’ He asked firmly. ‘He is an asshole and he’s taking advantage of someone that he thinks can’t fight back but he is going to learn not to fuck with what belongs to me.’

‘I-‘

‘And Yes, you belong to me Y/n. I made it very clear what would happen when he fucked up. I told you that you would be mine. That day has come, Princess. Now, let’s get you some clothes.’ You just barely noticed that the car had stopped before the door was opened and Aemond slid out, his grip somehow tightening as he carried you into the high rise apartment building and up to his place before moving straight to his bedroom.

‘Aem, I thought we were joking, you don’t have to-‘

‘Let’s get one thing straight, Love.’ He told you as he set you onto his bed which was wildly comfortable. God you need a nap. ‘I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do. I never have and I never will. You’ve been mine since the day we met, I just allowed you time to end things with that moron on your own. However, now he has hurt you and that is unacceptable. Take the jacket off.’ He instructed before moving to a drawer and pulling out a Henley, helping you pull it over your head and cover yourself to your mid thigh at least. ‘You know how much I love you, you have to by now. Every single member of my family has been waiting for us to get together, even my stupid nephews ship us…you are my everything…and I should have told you a long time ago. For that I am sorry but I’m not letting you go and I am certainly Not letting him get away with this unpunished. I will have him ripped apart in court before I have him ripped apart for real, my family has warned him already. He will never feel anything but pain again for what he’s done to my Princess.’ Aemond didn’t hesitate even a second before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t count the amount of times you had dreamt of kissing him and it was better than you could have imagined as your stomach did flips, his soft lips pressed to yours prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and tangle your fingers in his short silver locks. ‘Who in their right mind would ever even dream of fucking another girl while they have you? I will never understand that idiot…You’re Fucking Perfect.’ He mumbled against your mouth as his hands took your waist, squeezing your ass on the way down to your thighs where he lifted you up to straddle his lap.

‘Does it sound bad to say that I would have left him if you had just told me before.’ He shook his head, pulling back from the kiss and holding you to him firmly.

‘Of course not-we were meant to be Y/n. You’re mine now baby…say it. Tell me who you belong to.’ He was desperate to hear it from your mouth and you didn’t think there was anything you wouldn’t give him if he asked right now.

‘All yours Aemond, I’m yours. I love you, I’ve always loved you!’ And you truly had, since the night Helaena introduced you, your crush on the one eyed Targaryen grew quickly out of control. It was half of the reason you stayed with Jason as long as you did, so that you were never tempted to admit it and ruin your friendship since you never believed Aemond would see you as anything but his best friend.

‘I love you too, and I’m going to take care of you now. First I’ll get you some pants, I texted and scheduled a meeting with Daemon in the car and he can call his lawyers. You are suing his company and you will have the best lawyers in the country behind you.’

‘But I can’t-‘

‘Then we’re going to go and pack you a bag of your essentials because you’re coming to stay right here with me. No worrying about bills or anything like that, I’m taking care of my girl now. We can worry about “moving you in” later.’ You felt the dark blush on your cheeks at the idea of him taking care of you, it sounds too perfect to be real.

‘I don’t want you to waste all of that money on me-‘ he quickly cut you off again.

‘Nothing is wasted on you, let me spoil you. I want you to see him cry before I kill him, and honestly Daemon is going to be thrilled to get rid of him finally.’

‘What do you-‘

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. We appreciate your ignorance but you’re mine now, that officially makes you a member of this family and you’ve known about us for almost as long as you’ve known me. You had to have also deduced that the Lannisters are members of the Mafia as well, though our relationship is…complicated. They were warned and he hurt you anyway, his whole family knows what this means and he brought it on himself. Now-let’s get you dressed.’

Aemond leant me some of Helaena’s pants, having plenty of her clothes in his guest room, before we got back into his car and were driven to Daemons company…well-one of them at least. He owns like 10.

‘Well, this is a surprise. Not only are you late nephew, but you’ve brought a guest. Aren’t you supposed to be with that little shit of a boyfriend at this time of day?’ Daemon questioned as we sat down never looking up from his papers, though as I moved to sit in the chair beside Aemond he promptly pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

‘Y/n doesn’t work for him anymore.’ Daemon looked up from his paperwork and his eyes widened at our position before smirking.

‘Do tell nephew.’

‘She was fired for finding him cheating on her. He gave her these, I’m going to need the lawyers to look at these today.’ Daemon read over the papers quickly before laughing out loud.

‘I can’t believe the idiot signed these. He’s dumber than I ever even thought…do you want us to sue him though? It will be in your name, you have to go through with this…can you do that, sweet girl?’ He asked, eyebrows raised as if expecting me to have issues with all of this.

‘Sue him all you want, I was promised a dead body at the end of this.’ I stated and his eyes widened before he grinned, teeth showing in a way that makes most people feel like prey. Maybe the Targaryens really do come from dragons…

‘I knew I liked you. You’re doing us some good, finally giving us a reason to get rid of them once and for all. Good girl.’

‘Watch it…’ Aemond growled.

‘He told me I could never do anything about it, that he only hired me for my tight pussy and work ethic before taking back the clothes he bought me and forcing me to walk out in my underwear…I want him to lose everything before he dies and I want it to fucking hurt!’ Daemon looked stunned for a moment, his eyes darkening.

‘He did what?’ Aemond nodded and Daemon hummed. ‘I’ll get on this immediately. He’ll have the lawsuit on his desk before the end of the day.’

It was 8 o’clock in the evening and I was snuggled up against Aemond’s side in bed, enjoying my boyfriend feeding me my dessert when my phone rang a familiar ringtone and I showed him Jason’s picture. ‘Ooh, I expected this but Daemon really does work fast.’ Aemond chuckled, turning on his phone to record the call and I answered mine, putting it on speaker.

‘Hel-‘

‘What The Fuck Do You Think You’re Doing Bitch?!’ He snapped and I could only roll my eyes.

‘Exactly what I said. You knew I could sue you and you fired me anyway, practically signed your name to the crime with that paperwork. You would never pay me three months out if I had actually done something worth getting fired for. You’re an idiot.’ The pride in Aemond’s eyes was something that put my mind at ease, I knew I would be fine with him here and Daemon as well with how pissed off he has been made. Their whole family is pissed off now if the texts I had gotten from most of them all day told me anything. Even Aegon, who was usually too drunk or high to even lift his head in my presence was angry on my behalf.

‘This will never hold up, you can’t afford to take this to court-‘

‘You’re forgetting the fact that I have friends who are happy to help me. Ones that already don’t like you that you’ve just pissed off more now.’ He hesitated to answer for a moment.

‘No, I don’t believe you. Your little friendship with Helaena isn’t enough to make that family do shit! Not against mine for no reason, we-‘

‘I’m also…friends…with Aemond, remember? And they introduced me to their whole family who I seem to have grown on quite a lot. Especially their Uncle who I’ve found is quite happy to help me after you forced me to return the jewelry and clothes that you gave me just so I could get paid after you unjustly fired me. It seems finding out that you made me walk around in my underwear was quite a kick in the ass for Daemon to sue you quickly-well, me to sue you, him to help me. You really should have just broken up with me right, I probably would have tried to find another job and left but you had to do this. Pretty dumb.’ As I finished speaking Aemond brought the fork to my mouth, feeding me another piece of cake as if rewarding me and I loved it.

‘You dirty cunt. Are you fucking him?! You got all high and mighty on me and you’re fucking your friends Married Uncle?! What the-‘

‘Not quite, Jason.’ Aemond spoke making me giggle. ‘My Uncle just has a soft spot for her you see, she’s such a sweet girl. How anyone can not love her I don’t know, even your family did, didn’t they?’ I nodded, enjoying the rest of my dessert while he spoke. ‘We will be handling the lawyers so you can try to stall this if you’d like but it won’t work. And I’ll let you be the one to tell your father that you’ve made an enemy of a family that he depended on quite heavily.’ He had stopped recording by now as his voice grew darker, clearly hating the idiot on the other line. ‘You have until morning to let your family know what you did, oh and don’t bother deleting the footage from the cameras yesterday, Daemon has already gotten it. If you were smart enough in the first place that is.’

‘Bye Jason!’ I giggled as Aemond moved to hang up.

‘You Fucking-‘ with that he was gone and Aemond blocked his number from my phone.

‘We’re probably going to have to get you a new number.’ He teased.

I’m considering a part 2 with Aemond getting even with Jason…and a little smut🥰

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

[mrpenguinpants]

Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

Semi Part 2 For Dottore: Ttorschlusspanik [Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

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[kaibutsushidousha]

Kodaka April Fools tweets 2024

Lying just because it's April Fools' is so dull. Honestly painful to watch. Lying in general doesn't do you any good. In my younger days, I told every lie I could, saying some genuinely insane stuff about being a supreme leader of evil and whatnot, and thanks to that, now that I'm in my thirties, I got famous for all the wrong reasons and can't find a stable job because people think I'm associated with the yakuza... Sigh, I wanna deck my cringe younger self's face. Quit lying for fun while you can.

My classmates aren't doing great either. Thinking you're hot shit during your school days always comes back to bite you... My advice to my past self: slow and steady effort is worth more than any talent. Also, the part of life you spent larping with that silly horse laugh is not going to be one you'll want to remember later. I wish I could make that clear to him. White lies aren't a thing. Talent is never enough. My class is proof of that. Wanna know what my classmates are like now that we're in our thirties?

Akamatsu became a piano teacher. Her player skills capped off in her teens, it seems. But she's not that good at teaching so she's considered kinda mid at her job. And now she's struggling with the father of a student incessantly hitting on her. Tough world to live in.

Toujou opened a housekeeping company but she was too strict with her employees so everyone quit. And now she's doing everything on her own. Sucks to be in your thirties without any successors or employees. She's a prime example of how being so much better than anyone else doesn't do you any good. Well, she's always working for celebrities, so she's doing well financially, but I heard about some major court fight about a missing item under suspicion of theft from one of her clients. That can't be nice.

Yumeno got to her thirties still saying magic is real, so she's past the point of no return. She agrees that's an unhinged way to live, but she's too old to suddenly change gimmicks. Work takes her all over the country, but her gimmick doesn't allow her to publicly drink, so she has to get plastered alone in her hotel room after shows. I wish she could fix her life with real magic.

Harukawa? ...Haven't heard that name in a long time. Now she was a living edgy fantasy. The past tense was because I hadn't heard of her in a long time. I don't know the details, but apparently, she went to some war zone outside of Japan because her first love didn't want to date her. Takes some real edgelord to react to a broken heart like that, but if she's still alive, I have no idea how her thirties are treating her. My personal guess is that she's a mother of many.

Chabashira opened her Aikido school but is having a hard time attracting students. So she had the idea of starting an anti-sexual-harassment campaign that could double as advertisement, but thanks to her cluelessness when it comes to romance, she got canceled for mistakenly tossing men in regular couples. She's still doing the "degenerate males" bit in her thirties. Girl really needs to get on with the times. Rumor goes that she still downs huge packs of tequila bottles with Yumeno every now and then. Really don't think there's any salvaging her reputation.

Shirogane is an office lady still continuing her cosplay hobby on the side. She could be doing well if she knew how to keep her mouth shut but frequently rambles about cosplay history and etiquette, so no one likes having her around. Stay emotionally dependent on a single hobby long enough and your passion starts to close you off to others. That's her problem.

Angie was the most successful in the class! She made big money both on the art and the religion fronts. However, there were some controversies about her devotees selling counterfeits of her paintings at exorbitant prices and one magazine made a huge news coverage of it, which resulted in her catching the police's attention. She's been recently untraceable, with the rumors saying that she'll never be back to Japan.

Oh, and Iruma... Up until some point, she had the best life of all of us. She made big money off of her inventions' patents. So far so good. Things only started going off-rails after she married an ex-stripper. The two started a YouTube channel together. And later, her husband ran in last year's elections and lost big time. They got an awful debt from his election campaign and she had to get into side jobs to pay it off. And her husband? Disappeared. No word from Iruma herself about what happened. Tough world to live in.

No further updates from Kodaka in the past 3 hours, so I assume he went to sleep and will come back to tweet about the 7 remaining boys in the morning.

[sunshineandspencer]

Friendly face (Part 3)

A/N: I know I said I always succumb to peer pressure, but that did not need to be tested. Also if I did a Hotch(or Spencer) taglist, would anyone be interested, also.. how do you do a taglist?? I may be 20 and from the UK, but I have only been using tumblr for about two months, I’m learning (slowly). [I’ve made a form for a taglist!! it’s underneath the parts!!]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Receptionist!Reader.

Summary: Little does the team know, their little receptionist and their Unit Chief had been closer for a lot longer than any of them knew. And while he’s brilliant at hiding it, she is now.

Word Count: 825

Warnings: please, stop requesting the fluff it hurts my little heart

part 1! and 2!!

be added to the taglist!!

Honestly, she could come to work with a massive neon sign floating above her head saying ‘stupidly in love with Aaron Hotchner’ and it would have probably the same effect as she normally does to him.

While he goes through the rules, needing to check about whether their relationship - yes, relationship - was actually legal, they needed to keep it secret.

A serious conversation they’d had over dinner well over six months ago, one that she’d seem to conveniently forget whenever they were actually in the office together. Thankfully that isn’t very often, unless he’s personally asked for files she stays by her desk.

Sometimes, he will admit, he requests reports just to get her into the office, but not very often.

However, it seemed to have been just often enough for his coworkers - Emily, mostly - to realise. From there, and after getting everyone else to join her, they were trying to find exactly how much the pair actually cared for each other.

Crowding together at the round table, quickly giving everything they’d noticed before Hotch arrived.

Emily starts, grinning at both Morgan and Spencer, nothing better than a bit of office gossip.

“So, she doesn’t hide anything. But, we’re all well aware that he sometimes uses excuses to get her into his office. But I noticed that she always leaves post-it notes on the files that she does give him, and they do look sickeningly sweet. It’s hard to believe Hotch actually likes that.”

Spencer chimes in, wringing his fingers lightly. He loves gossip as much as the next person, but the receptionist is a sweetheart and treats him so kindly, plus he doesn’t really believe in talking about other people’s business.

However, he’s invested in her happiness, and knows that there’s more to the pair than meets the eye.

“Well.. he smiles at her, more than I’ve ever really seen. And he does things for her that he wouldn’t do for anyone else. He helped her set up her desk and made sure she settled properly with the team.. plus Penelope found the paperwork and he requested her to be moved up.”

“What?! She didn’t tell me that!” Morgan looked pretty dejected, and Emily could only pat his back apologetically. But as much as they want to say that Morgan is her favourite, Spencer is everyone’s favourite.

He just shrugged, and Morgan kept talking, needing to add in what he’d seen - and profiled - about the two of them.

“Whatever. We’ve all seen how smitten Jack is with her, kid practically has hearts coming from his eyes. And I heard them talking about her having stayed over on the weekend. And we all see the way Hotch is with the two of them, it’s like the past decade of the job lifts off him.”

They all eventually came to the agreement that they believed that Hotch and their receptionist were together, and they needed to know more. The achilles heel of most profilers, the desire for gossip whenever they can get it.

Hearing footsteps approaching, they quickly nominated Spencer to ask Hotch, panicking the younger agent as he spluttered over his words.

As Hotch stepped through, with her following close behind, files in her hands as she waited for Hotch to take them. Waving to the rest of the team happily, very grateful the images weren’t on screen yet. Emily booted Spencer under the table and he jolted, getting Hotch’s attention.

“Hotch!” His voice cracked, how cute. “I uh- we, we wondered if you and uhm.. if you two--”

Christ, she wanted to take pity on the poor boy, looking up at Aaron. Thankfully he seemed amused rather than irritated that they’d worked it out. Looks like they got their answers on whether or not the relationship was allowed.

He nodded at her softly and she grinned, leaning up to peck his lips quickly, stuffing the files into his hands.

“Let me know if you take the case?”

“I’ll text you.”

Grinning, she winked at Spencer, which earned her a warning “sweetheart”, which only fed into her giddiness now that they didn’t have to hide it. Loving the surprised looks on their faces, even though Morgan was definitely acting as if he knew the whole time. Exactly as Aaron said he would, god she loves that he knows them so well.

“Stay safe you lot. Bring my boyfriend home safe or I’ll hunt you down!”

As she walked out of the briefing room, she smacked Aaron’s ass and scampered off giggling, being followed with his scolding voice.

“Dove.”

Eventually, he had to turn back around to his grinning teammates - bar a very embarrassed Spencer who now avoided his boss’ gaze - he sunk into his chair. Waiting for whichever one was going to say something first.

Emily, of course, was the one to speak up first, looking at him all innocently as if she didn’t know damn well what she was doing.

“Dove~?”

“Don’t push it.”

Want more?! Good!

[guardarecheluna]

You know, i’ve been your baby since the day that we met. (CEO!H)

Words: 8k

Warnings: Pathetic Fluff, Smut (Praise, P in V, Oral, slight daddy kink)

Summary: Harry is bewitched by her, and he would do absolutely anything to make her happy, even though she sometimes doesn’t want him to.

READ THE FIRST CEO ONE SHOT HERE!

A/N: Hellooo my loves! It's been a little while, but now i'm here with a lil CEO update since you all seemed to enjoy him last time. Please let me know what you think of it, it always makes my day to hear from you!

elle x

It was almost like Harry couldn’t remember a life before her. She had filled the bottomless hole in his heart with her warmth, humour, cleverness and love like it was the most simple thing in the world. Harry had never been so happy.

It’s been just 5 months since that night in Harry’s lounge, where his clammy hands were shaking, searching for hers. Where he bared his heart before her, and hoped, hoped that she’d at least tell him she didn’t hate him. Y/N could never hate Harry. Sometimes, when she comes to think about it, she feels absolutely crazy when it comes to him. Like she can’t believe that he is hers. Like maybe she was made just for him. Like maybe they were meant to meet when she started working for Pleasing.

Harry had kept telling her how hard he fell, that he felt like he was jumping from a plane without a parachute, blindly falling and hoping to be caught in his lover’s arms. Harry fell hard, but Y/N fell first.

Y/N’s interview had went better than she ever could’ve expected. It was just the day before that she was asked to Pleasing’s office to do an interview for a position as a senior creative. She left the interview happy and pleased with herself, but honestly?

She couldn’t tell if it was because she had actually done well for the interview, or if it was the Harry-shaped opening in her heart that was slowly cracking her open. The tall brunette had been so kind to her throughout the interview, even offering her a coffee beforehand.

As her first day a Pleasing came and went, Y/N tried to gather up her things from her new office to head home. It had been a wild day, introductions to new people, online courses to help her with their IT systems and endless and absolutely endless pining for her new boss. She could swear that she had never met anyone like him, and especially not a CEO who acted like he did with his colleagues. Harry had this softness to him, almost feminine at times, but with a strong masculine cologne, broad shoulders and deep, gravely voice. He emitted a light and kindness that was difficult to describe if you hadn’t met him. He was like a magnet.

Y/N was sure that if you were to google the definition of kindness, a picture of Harry Styles would pop up on the first page. Don’t quote her on that, though.

Harry had checked on her multiple times during the day, taken her and a few other colleagues out for lunch as a “celebration” he said. He really didn’t act like any other CEO she had met.

“Hey, are you still here? Thought your day ended at five, you must be exhausted.” Harry was doing a final round in the offices. Y/N was the last one left, just wanting to land back on her feet and feel her surroundings after a long first day. She thought she’d be the last one out, but Harry was there as well. Of course he was. Y/N snapped her head up, looking at him. He had almost scared her with his quiet steps into her office space. “Jesus, Harry, you scared me!” Y/N scrunched her eyes shut, putting her hand over her pumping heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t resist, I didn’t mean to scare ye’ though.” Harry said with a smirk. Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Didn’t mean to, huh? Don’t believe it for a second.” She said, throwing him a suspicious look, but with a smile; she just couldn’t help it. Harry chuckled. “You’ll just have to believe that I’m a kind enough person to not scare away the new employee on the first day, I don’t know what to tell you.” Harry hit back, slight ironic cockiness in his voice.

Y/N just smiled and continued packing up her laptop and the pamphlets she’d gotten from HR, along with a few papers that needed to be signed.

Y/N almost couldn’t look at him without having butterflies erupting in her stomach. Call her stupid, insane, mentally weak, but she could feel a serious crush coming on. Scratch that, it isn’t coming on, it’s already there, burning in her belly and begging to seen and heard.

Or another time, around a month into working for Pleasing when Y/N had knocked on Harry’s office door, almost in tears.

Maybe it sounded dramatic, but getting used to a new workplace, new routines and IT systems; Y/N would find herself frustrated and she hated bothering her colleagues with her questions every 5 minutes.

Y/N knocked on the glass door, her jaw strained and aching with how much she was trying to keep it together.

Harry opened the door, stepping aside. “Hey there, darling. You alright?” He said as he nodded his head to give her a cue to step inside.

He looked so good that day, in one of pristine, ironed suits. The first few buttons were undone, and a fine dusting of hair was peeking out of the shirt as well as the tattoos on his chest that Y/N hadn’t gotten to see the full version of. His lips were chapped, like he had picked on the skin in his anxious thoughts. Y/N swallowed harshly, stepping inside and plopping down on the sofa in his office. “I need your help.” She just said, looking up at him, holding on to her frustrated tears.

Harry could tell she wasn’t her chirpy, flirty and smug self, his heart suddenly feeling gooey and yelling at him to sit down and embrace her.

“Anything, I’m glad you came. What do you need, pet?” Harry said as he closed the door and sat opposite her on another sofa. He was leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

“I just…I feel frustrated because there’s so many things I don’t have the hang of yet and I hate being a bother to everyone and asking questions all the time. It’s either that I don’t fucking get it or it’s because there’s suddenly new things and I can’t seem to keep up.” She said, her eyes stuck on the cushions Harry was sitting on, afraid that she’d break if she looked right at him.

Harry was quiet for a good while, anxiety washing over Y/N when he wouldn’t answer. She braced herself for some kind of lashing out. She knew he wasn’t like any other boss, but maybe coming to him with this was a mistake, a showcasing of her weakness that would be the end of her time at Pleasing.

“Sorry…I-“ She started before Harry spoke up.

“Darling, don’t ever apologise. You need to go easy on yourself, you’ve been here for just a month and there’s a lot to learn, you don’t have to do everything at once, that’s impossible. I’m really glad you came to me, of course I’ll help you with anything I can.” Harry said softly. Y/N relaxed into her seat, feeling almost dumb for thinking he’d lash out at her. She nodded, finally looking up at him, to find him searching her eyes and smiling kindly. “Thank you, H, I just, I know it’s a competitive business, and I don’t want to ever let you down just because I can’t figure out fucking excel.” She chuckled.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “As if you could ever let me down.” He said under his breath, almost like she wasn’t meant to hear it. “Let’s get to it, then, come sit down next t’me and pull out your laptop.”

Harry had arranged a small get away weekend for the two of them. Coming up on almost 6 months, they were yet to go on a trip together, and Harry wanted nothing more than some quality time with his girl. His girl.

He had spent two weeks trying to plan everything down to the food they were going to cook, to what activities they could do to keep them occupied.

Harry had booked them a cabin in the woods, by a small lake. It was around a three-hour drive from London, which was perfect for going away for a weekend.

A weekend where it would be just the two of them, no distractions of phones or other people, just them. Harry was so excited, struggling to keep it a secret when all he wanted was to spill all the details and spoil Y/N with insight into all his plans, but he kept his mouth shut.

They had already agreed to spend the weekend together at Harry’s, so naturally, they’d drive home together after work on Friday. Harry was driving, one hand on the wheel, and the other finding Y/N’s over the centre consol. Fingers lightly tracing knuckles and palms while Harry had their playlist on in the background.

Y/N sat up slightly and her eyebrows furrowed when she realized that they were going towards her apartment instead, and not his.

“I thought we were staying at yours this weekend?”

Harry laughed, the plan in his head was turning out just the way he wanted it to. He parked the car outside of her building. “Get out with me.” He said, meeting her when he rounded the car. His hands reached out and gripped her jaw, placing a few small pecks on her pink lips. Confusion was still prominent on her face. “We’re going to go upstairs, and you’re going to pack a bag for a weekend away. I didn’t want to say anything, ‘cause I wanted it to be a surprise.” He smiled. Y/N melted into his touch. “Are you serious, where are we going?” Her eyes lit up with excitement at his words. “Not telling you yet, you’ll find out.” She shook her head at his words.

“You’re so sneaky. And here I was thinking that you couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it.” Y/N teased as she turned on her heel towards her apartment to pack a weekend bag.

The pair had stopped early in their trip to get some snacks at a gas station, just something to keep them awake after a long day at the office. Y/N had taken off her shoes and cozied up in the passenger seat, manipulating her seatbelt so that her back was leaning against the car door. Her feet was propped up on the centre consol as she observed Harry from her seat. Every little hair on his head, his eyes on the road that sometimes glanced over at her, a smile spreading on his face when he caught her looking at him. One of his hands reached for her, hand spreading out over her knee and squeezing it slightly. “What’s on your mind, pet?” Y/N tilted her head. “Like you don’t know.” She laughed and leant back against the door. “Just thinking about how the hell I landed you.” She continued, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks with the words, but still confident. Harry sighed. “You’ve got it all backwards, I’m afraid. You’re so out of my league it’s insane, I’m surprised I didn’t have to beg on my knees for you to date me.” He replied to her, once again squeezing her knee. “Well, let’s be real, you kind of did.” Y/N said as a comeback, clearly remembering the anxious, thinly spread Harry that night almost 6 months ago. “Alright, that’s enough or I’ll drop you off on the side of the road.” Harry replied, faking a threat as he felt the embarrassment of that evening come over him. “You wouldn’t, think you love me a little too much to leave on the side of the road.” She continued to tease.

Of course she was right.

“Harry. Is this all for us, have you gone completely insane?” Y/N looked at him without a hint of amusement behind her eyes as she stepped out of the car to look at the so called “cabin” that Harry had rented out. Thing is, it wasn’t just a cabin. It was a huge, sprawling estate, hidden away from neighbours and curious gazes. It had to have cost him thousands of punds just for a weekend getaway, and even though Y/N appreciated his act of love, they had had this conversation before; the one about money.

Y/N didn’t grow up with wealth, and neither did Harry. But as the years had passed, Harry had gotten ridiculously rich. No prize on either cars or estates phased him, he barely looked at the cost of things, which Y/N had thought was completely insane, even though she didn’t exactly know the extent of his wealth.

The first argument about money that they had, was early on in their relationship, just a month after they’d become official.

It had been Y/N’s birthday.

They were newly in love. It had been a month. They spent all their awake time together, at work, at home, in bed and weekends. Their hearts were blooming, still with that wondrous love in their hearts each time they looked at each other. Everything was easy, bright and happy.

Y/N’s birthday was coming up, and since she didn’t want to make a big deal of it, she had told Harry that they’d spend it with some of their friends. She had also warned him, to not get her anything as a gift. Y/N wasn’t really aware of what the code was when it’s your partners birthday, but you’re a new couple, so to avoid any awkward feelings, she straight up told him not to get her anything.

Harry wasn’t like that though. He knew her birthday was coming up long before she’d warned him. It might’ve even been one of the first things he’d memorized about her after she left her initial interview at Pleasing. His nosey ass couldn’t keep his nose out of her application papers that was clearly stating her date of birth and age.

He had been a little bit taken aback when Y/N told him not to get her anything, because he had already gotten her something. Something that, in his eyes it wasn’t a big present of any sort, just an appreciation for his girlfriend that he loved more than the number of stars in the sky.

“Can I just get you something small? Please, I know you don’t want anything, but it doesn’t feel right, I just want to celebrate you, you deserve it.” Harry had mentioned over the breakfast they were sharing. Y/N shook her head at him adoringly. “Does it really mean that much to you? A get together with you and my friends is more than enough for me.” Y/N reached out over the table and entwined her fingers through his. He was warm.

“It does, I like giving gifts, and it can be something small, I just want to get you something. If you really don’t want to I won’t but I can’t lie and say it won’t break my heart a little.” He admitted to her. So, she agreed. It was just something small, and she found his urge to care for her so badly very sweet.

And Harry didn’t necessarily lie, the gift was indeed small, but it was expensive. Harry had barely blinked at the prize when he’d went to the jeweller’s and picked out a piece that would suit her perfectly. And maybe that was the problem in all of this. Harry had spent so much of his life by now, bathing in money, and it didn’t really matter to him anymore what things cost him, because at this point, he had made more money than he’ll ever be able to spend.

Y/N didn’t have that, she wasn’t, nor had she ever bathed in money. She was like everyone else, budgeting her money to see what she could spend and save, and she quite enjoyed it, she didn’t have too much or too little of anything.

So when she opened his “small gift” on his sofa, amongst his friend on her birthday evening, she could feel her blood burning when she pulled out a beautiful, white gold bracelet with tiny charms linked to it. Amongst the charms was an “H” initial and amongst a few others that she could recognize meant something to the both of them. A collective gasp was spread through the room, and Y/N knows she should be happy, but right she felt almost embarrassed. Here she was, sat with her regular friends and millionaire boyfriend, while he gifted her jewellery worth thousands of pounds. Harry sat beside her, smiling widely and awaiting a reaction to his gift. Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to be ungrateful, she wasn’t, but she needed to talk to Harry about the way her stomach twisted and turned, how her cheeks turned red and how she felt guilty to receive something like this. But now wasn’t the time. Instead, she turned to him with a weak smile and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, my love.” She simply said before turning back to her friends and picking up another gift. It hurt her. She could see the slight disappointment in Harry’s eyes as she put his gift to the side.

It had all turned into something much bigger. Y/N wasn’t handling his apparent wealth and need to spoil her very well, and Harry was just confused. He couldn’t understand in his wildest mind how she didn’t want him to spoil her. He couldn’t understand her anger, her guilt, and her refusal to let him love her in this way. Because that was it. Plain and simple he loved her. He hadn’t dared to stutter those words since their first night together, and she hadn’t either, but he sure felt it. He felt in his his whole body, and he had for an embarrassing amount of time.

They made up, at last, and she accepted his gift after a few persuasive kisses and promises of no more gifts like these. She made it clear to him that she did appreciate his effort, and the thoughtfulness, but she didn’t appreciate the huge amount of money he had spent. Harry listened and took it to heart. He wanted to make her happy, of course, and gift giving was part of his love language, he just had to learn to tone it down slightly.

That same feeling in Y/N’s stomach that she had on her birthday had returned as she stepped out of the car and looked at the huge house in front of her. It wasn’t like he had bought her a whole house, it was just a weekend away, but it’s the principle of him spending that much money on her that made her uneasy.

“Darling.” Harry just said as he looked over to her. He knew from the look on her face that the same as the one she wore on her birthday. Harry rounded the car to stand right in front of her.

“This isn’t a cabin Harry. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, you know I appreciate when you plan things like this but…” her fingers played nervously with her rings, tears feeling like they could escape from her eyes at any moment. “Look at me.” Harry said, his hand coming up to her cheek, thumb grazing softly over her jaw. “It’s not just a cabin, ‘m sorry. And I know how you feel about this but you also have to know how I feel. I feel like I could never give you enough, you deserve everything I have pet, and sometimes that shows with money. I don’t want it to bother you like this, because I love y- …doing this for you. You must accept that I want to do this and that I’ve got no bad intentions, just want to show you how much you mean to me.” He almost let it slip from his lips. It felt so easy. Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t want to fight about money, but being taken care of like this was still so foreign to her that she didn’t know how to handle it. She nodded, and looked up at him with watery eyes. “No more.” She just said as she melted into his body, arms wrapping around his middle and her nose searching for his scent lathered in the neckline of his shirt. “There will be more, I want to give you all of it, pet.” Harry replied. She just nodded into the warmth of his chest.

Overwhelmed was the right word. She didn’t know what to do with all these new feelings of guilt that was put in her, where did they come from? Why couldn’t she just accept that he only did this out of pure adoration for her heart?

They got their bags out of the car and stepped inside the house. From the foyer, she could see straight through the house, with a beautiful lake spread out just a few meters from the house. The water on the lake was shimmering in on the roof, which made the whole house look absolutely magical, like something out of a movie.

The house was massive, white walls and high ceilings with an open kitchen carrying dark wooden details and stone countertops. It was the house of Y/N’s dreams.

They spent the afternoon getting settled in, and going down to the lake to have a splash around. Y/N had discovered a porch swing sitting under the balcony, facing the lake and greenery around it, and if she wasn’t already in love with this place, it only intensified when she saw the swing.

But it wasn’t any old, creaky porch swing, it looked almost like a suspended sofa, blankets draped over it and pillows in the corners.

It was her turn to plan something small for Harry.

As they stood in the burning hot shower after their dip in the lake, Y/N hurriedly scrubbed herself down from the dirt and grime and turned to Harry who looked slightly confused at her erratic behaviour. “You got somewhere to be, pet?” Harry chuckled as she hung up her loofah. Y/N had a mischievous look on her face as she wrapped her arms around his middle. “It’s my turn for a little surprise now. I want you to meet my out the back in 40 minutes, and not a minute earlier, alright?” She said as she reached up and placed a single peck on Harry’s chin. Harry nodded, both his hands coming up to her head, carding through her wet hair and pushing it away from the gentle features of her face, then leaning down and connecting their lips. “I’ll be out in 40 minutes.”

Y/N scrambled to put on her comfortable, yet pretty new pyjamas, and dug out what she needed for her little surprise. She pulled out some candles from the depth of a cabinet in the kitchen, a bottle of wine and her speaker, some fruit for them to snack on and finally, a little gift that she had prepared.

The sun had started to set, a few rays still on the porch swing as she got out. She put the candles in the little lanterns and set up a little table for them, wanting to just have some down-time in the porch swing before their evening ended.

Harry stuck his head out the back door exactly 40 minutes later, a big smile on his face, and his freshly washed curls in a mess on top of his head.

Y/N snapped her head around. “Come sit.” Y/N smiled at him and reached out her hand for him, leading him over to the swing. “You’ve made it so lovely out here, pet. So nice to me, always.” Harry whispered to Y/N’s cheek as he pulled her closer to him. Harry was also wearing some cozy clothes, and through her thin pyjamas, she could feel the heat of his body and ripple of his muscle under his skin. He was home.

They sat down and cozied up with a blanked as Y/N poured them wine. “For you, my good sir.” She said teasingly, reaching him the glass of red wine. As she poured herself a glass, she leaned back into the soft cushion of the swing and into his arms. She was curled up, while Harry had his legs on the ground beneath, softly swinging them back and forth.

“I’m really sorry I was acting like I was earlier. I just have a hard time with you spoiling me like this, but I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate it, I do, I really do, H.” Y/N admitted as she looked up at Harry. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes studying the lake that was still catching the last few sunrays. Then he shook his head as he caught her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize t’me, pet. I know you appreciate it. I just…I need you to know that this isn’t a one-off thing. I want to be able to spoil you. I also know that I’ve told you all of my intentions with you, I want always with you. I want us to enjoy our life, I want us to explore, I want to…I want to be with you, and sometimes I want to spend money on you. I can’t say that it doesn’t hurt me a little when you reject me like that, but I also understand where you’re coming from.” Harry laid out. Y/N felt her insides twist at his mention of her rejecting him, cause in her head, it wasn’t like that; not at all. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m rejecting you. I want the same thing as you, I just…that I don’t want to…bother you, I think. I don’t make nearly as much money as you do and sometimes it makes me feel like shit because I can’t bring the same thing to this relationship as you can. I guess it’s just something that’s always going to stick with me, but I want to be better.”

Y/N said, trying her best to be vulnerable and let him see her side of things. Harry snapped his head to look at her. “Is that really how you feel? Like you’re a bother to me?” He asked her, genuinely, not accusing her of her feelings, but sounding like he was genuinely concerned and interested in what her answer might be. “I do sometimes. I work for you, and I’m your girlfriend, it’s a bit hard to navigate sometimes, because we see each other so constantly, and I just don’t want you to get tired of me.” Harry nodded at her words, and stayed quiet for a moment. Y/N could see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to put the right words into his mouth. “You don’t ever have to feel like you’re a bother. Ever. I want to spend every moment with you, and I know I am so lucky to get to see you every single day at work. I do all of these things because I care about you, and in a world where money is everywhere and everything, I sometimes don’t think about the value of some things. You say that you bring nothing to this relationship, but I wish I could put into words how wrong you are.” Harry said honestly, his thumb stroking gentle circles over her cheek as he leaned in to connect them in a kiss. “I’m in love with you. I haven’t told you since that first night, but I don’t think I can keep it in me anymore, I need to tell you, all the time. I need you to know that you’re it, f’me. I love you so much, and you’ll never bother me the way you think you are.” He said against her lips, breaths switching between them because they’re close, so close. Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire, she’s blushing, her lower stomach filling with arousal and all the love she feels for him is just waiting to explode out of her like a fountain. So she does the first thing that comes to her mind. She kisses him again, again and again, until they’re out of breath and panting. “I love you, thank you for loving me like you do.” Is all she says, and she can feel him smiling into their kiss. Y/N moves around on the swing, and gently places their glasses back on the tiny table in front of them before pushing harry down to lay on his back. “Need to show you.” She murmurs against his mouth, as he welcomes her wet kisses trailing down his neck, making the hairs on his body stand up. “Yeah? You’re going to show me how much you love me?” He teased, as he let himself be pushed around to her liking. There was just something about Harr’s dirty talk that got her going even more, his velvety, low voice, combined with those forbidden, almost taboo words, mixed with his high praises and promise of pleasure. It was her favourite thing.

Y/N straddled his hips, looking down at him with a blown out pupils and slight smile as she tugged on her top to discard it on the floor. Harry’s hands instantly came up to touch. First smoothing over her belly and ribs until he reached her fleshy breasts, pinching her nipples and gauging her reaction. Her body caved into Harry’s as he touched her, leaning over him, with her breasts right in front of his face. Harry seized the moment, sticking out his tongue to tease her nipples, nipping them and working his tongue over them. A frustrated, pleasured moan came from Y/N as she started grinding her hips on his warm, plumping cock. Harry could feel her warmth through her bottoms, opting to grab onto her hips with his hands to pull her closer to him. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me, pet? Feel how much I love you?” Harry breathed into her hair, kissing her pulse point right under her ear, slightly biting on the earlobe.

“Mmmh” Was all she was able to get out before Harry pushed her away from him, grabbing her hand and rushing off to their bedroom for the weekend.

They barely made it through the door before Harry’s lips were on hers again, hands over any skin he could get to as they got rid of the remains of clothes that they still had on.

“Wanna taste…wanna bite.” Harry said to her skin, moving down the bed as he placed wet kisses down her sternum, belly, until he reached her mound. Y/N panted heavily with just the feel of his hands and kisses on her skin as she tangled her fingers through his locks to see his face properly. “Please.” She mewled when he teasingly places feather-light licks and kisses on her inner thighs and mound. “Be good, you’re going to get it, but you have to be my good girl, okay?” He said in reply to her mewl and her hands trying to steer her towards where she wanted him. “I’m good, I want to be good.” Y/N replied absentmindedly. And just as she was about to complain again, she felt his hot tongue inside of her, licking broad licks from her opening to her clit. Shivers of pleasure rippled through her body as he pleased her with his mouth, sucking, nipping, licking, and massaging wherever he could get to.

“You taste like heaven baby, so sweet for me, always.” Harry said as he came up for air. “More, please, H” Y/N said the moment his lips left her. She could feel herself getting closer to her that cliff of pleasure, just about to fall off when he detached. “I know, pet, you’re so close yeah? Could feel it on my tongue. Want my fingers too?” All she could do was nod, frustrated and writhing around in the crispy sheets. “You know I need your wor-“ “Yes, yes please, please do anything” She interrupted him in desperation, her hazy mind not caring about her manners at all. “Good girl.” Was all Harry said before diving back in with his mouth and fingers, instantly feeling her clench around his fingers as he curved them, poking the squishy island of pleasure with the tips of his fingers. Y/N moaned out as she got close, closer to the edge of her orgasm, raising to her elbows so she could see him. His eyes were closed as he worked his magic on her.

“I’m coming” Y/N airily moaned as her whole body tightened and she let herself fall over the cliff. Harry continued to work her through the waved of pleasure, prolonging her orgasm for as long as he possibly could.

Y/N in her post orgasm haze shot up from the sheets, pulling Harry up to her as she kissed him. She could taste herself on his lips, residual wetness around his mouth and chin transferring onto her skin. It was so hot. Without another word, she rolled him over, straddling him once again, like out on the swing. She sat right over his hard length, not yet putting him in as Harry had a lazy, smile on his face, pupils blown out in arousal and pleasure. Y/N put her hands on Harry’s chest, feeling up his muscles and dragging down to his toned stomach as she started moving over his cock, wetting him with her own arousal.

“Pet, Shhi- I’m not going to last if you grind on me like that.” Harry said as he fixed his eyes on hers, a little wrinkle of strain between his dark brows. Y/N said nothing to him, continuing to slick his cock with her wetness with a playful smile and moans of pleasure leaving her lips every time the head bumped her clit. Harry’s hands took a firm grip around her wrists as he sat up.

“You’re just asking for it, aren’t you? Thought you’d want it slow and sweet tonight, but I guess I was wrong.” Harry said in a harsh tone, although Y/N could see straight through him. “Doesn’t matter, just want you to fuck me. You always tease me so I thought you’d have a taste of your own medicine.” Y/N replied sassily with a scowl on her face, but a sparkle in her eye that gave her away immediately. “You…” Harry chuckled as he pinned her down on the bed, giving himself a few cursory strokes before lining himself up with her. “Tell me, pet. Tell me what I want to hear and I’ll give it to you” Harry mumbled into her neck, kissing and sucking on her salty skin. “Mhh, I love you, please get in me” Y/N whimpered out as she reached down in between them, trying any and everything to get him inside of her. “I love you too, pet, tell me again” He spluttered out, kissing her lips as he finally sank in to her, groaning int her mouth. A wave of relief flooded over Y/N, her desperation for him finally calming down as he poked and prodded at her insides with his cock. Harry picked up his pace, giving her deep, long strokes with his hips as Y/Ns legs wrapped around his body.

Missionary was a classic for the two of them, people found it boring and plain, but for Harry and Y/N, it was their preferred position. Easy access to one another, being able to touch, look, and swallow the other’s moans as they chased their highs. Few things were as romantic for them as missionary. And don’t get this wrong, they are the couple to explore new positions and find other ways to pleasure, but they always returned to this. There was something so raw and pure about it, and they couldn’t get enough.

Their foreheads were stuck together, panting into each other’s mouths as Harry hooked her legs into the crease of his elbows, allowing him to hit her at a new angle. “Baby” Y/N moaned out from the change in angle, his cock hitting her spot head on as he continued to work into her. A layer of sweat was building on his chest and shoulders from the strain of chasing their pleasure, and Y/N wanted to lick it off. He looked so good like this.

“I know, I know it feels so good, pet, I feel it too. You’re the best I’ve ever had, should never let you leave my bed.” Harry praised her in response as he kissed the sides of her face, looking at her blissed out expression. Y/N could feel her orgasm approaching again, and Harry could tell, letting go of one of her legs and reaching down between them to touch her. “H, I’m going to come, please, keep going” She mewled underneath him, trying to chase his movements with her hips as she threw her head to the side and into the pillow. “I’m coming pet, so fucking weak for you. Want it inside, want me to fill you up, baby?” Harry replied with a raspy groan, and that, that made Y/N tip over yes. Her orgasm wracked through her body, her nails digging into Harry’s biceps as she let out sounds of her pleasure. “Inside, please, Daddy, I want it inside.” She encouraged as her eyes glazed over, fixing her eyes on his as she knew he was right after her, wanting the most out of his orgasm, just as he did to her. “Shit- pet you’re playing dirty, Daddy’s gonna come for you, I-“ Harry groaned as he let out pathetic little whimpers. His hips stuttered, burying himself deeper inside of her and catching her lips in a messy kiss, warm tongue sliding over hers. She could feel her lower stomach, warm with him, chuckling and pushing the hair out of his face as he collapsed on top of her completely.

Her nails started raking through his hair and down his back as they basked in the afterglow of their intense sex. Harry placed a gentle kiss on her collarbone and put his head on her shoulder, looking up at her. “I wish I had more words in my vocabulary to tell you how much I love you, I feel like I love you isn’t enough.” Harry spoke genuinely in a low tone. “Write me a book, yeah?” She chuckled as she tried to settle into the moment and enjoy it before having to detangle from each other. “Don’t joke about that, might as well happen, you know.” Harry laughed as he detached their sticky bodies rising from the bed. “C’mon, my love, quick wash up and then sleep.”

Y/N laid there looking at his outstretched arm, completely bare for each other as her heart pumped with pure love and adoration for the man in front of her. She took his hand, and they stumbled into the shower together.

Y/N was awoken by a harsh light in her face, and Harry sitting up on the edge of the bed. He put his phone to his ear, and she could hear him talking lowly on his phone. Casting her a glance and then leaving through the door as to not disturb her sleep.

She could hear him out in the hall.

“I don’t know what to tell you, I can’t….i can’t do anything from here, I’m away for the weekend…No…Well you’re going to have to fix It in some way, call Niall, I’m not available. All I ask is one weekend in quiet and you idiots can’t even do that. Fine. Call Niall and head of security at IT and figure it out, yeah? Bye.”

Y/N listened curiously in her cocoon of blankets, what time was it, why did they need him now?

Harry stepped inside once again and lifted the blankets. Y/N couldn’t really tell if it was anger or worry on his face. “I’m sorry I woke you up, pet. Some idiots at the office don’t know how to handle their job. Let’s go back to sleep.” She could tell he tried his best not to let anger spill out on their conversation, and she felt bad for him, always having to be available and never catching a break. This job would be the death of him some day.

“You’re alright, baby. It’s not your fault. What did they need you for?” She tried with a gentle voice, welcoming him into her arms as he settled in bed and turned off the bedside lamp. “There’s been some kind of security breach in one department, and someone is trying to leak personal data and now they want a ransom to not leak the data and get out of our systems.” Harry sighed. Jesus. “There’s nothing I can do, but they’re calling in head of IT and security to have a look at it, it’s happened before, but hopefully it’s just a scare. Didn’t want to wake you up though, I’m sorry,” He continued, obviously feeling defeated and helpless in the situation.

“I’m sure there’s a way to make it up to me.” Y/N tried as she placed gentle kisses on his jaw and neck, and she could feel Harry instantly relaxing and smiling at her wording. “Yeah? Tell me and I’ll make it up to you.” He let her lead him on, feeling her hands playing with the elastic of his boxer briefs. “Guess.” Harry shook his head in adoration as he pulled down his boxers and took her underwear off in the same movement, getting in behind her and pushing inside of her. No preparation was needed. Nothing got him harder when he knew she wanted him.

“Fuck, it hasn’t even been two hours and I’ve already missed being inside of you.” Harry admitted with a sigh as he entered her again.

It was lazy, raw and desperate sex, in the middle of the night. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her, having her in every way imaginable. And he kept thinking about his life from over a year ago, when he had no idea that she, the love of his life, was about to enter into her life. And even if it was just something small, like having sex to take the edge off from the day, Harry couldn’t imagine anything else for his life as they fell asleep cuddled up to each other, leaving no room for work or security breaches to enter his mind. It was just them.

Back at work, a few days later, Lydia, Y/N’s co-worker and close friend smiled suspiciously at Y/N as she prepared her desk for the workday,

“There’s something up with you, and I can’t tell what it is.” Lydia wiggled her eyebrows with an interrogating look on her face. Y/N blushed slightly, but tries to keep a straight face through the conversation, having a sip of her morning coffee. “I’m an open book.” Y/N tried to play, but she could tell that Lydia wasn’t buying it. “You. Me. Meeting in Atlas in 5 minutes. We need to have a MEETING.” Lydia pressed, gathering her things and rushing off to the free meeting room to have a pretend meeting with her best friend. Y/N rolled her eyes and went after her. She could never keep anything from Lydia. She just knew stuff without knowing. Of course, the whole office knew about Harry and Y/N getting involved, but they kept in on the low.

“Alright. Spill the beans, all of them, right now.” Lydia said immediately when she closed the door and plopped down in a chair opposite of Y/N. Just as she was about to answer her, Harry walked by on the other side of the glass. He glanced inside, smiling his brilliant smile and sending her a quick wink before he was off. Y/N looked up with a smile spreading over her face, just from that small interaction. Lydia didn’t even have to turn around. “It’s him, yeah?” Y/N nodded, eyes stuck on the glass where he had just walked by. “I think I’m going to marry him.” Y/N said as she kept looking through the glass. Her heart grew every time she looked at him. If this wasn’t love, then she didn’t know what was.

And Lydia just burst out laughing, a true belly laugh, like she hadn’t heard anything funnier in her whole lifetime. “Babe, tell me something I don’t know. I’ve never seen two people as dumb in love with each other as you two. I’m sure there’s going to be a ring on your finger in the next year, but probably tomorrow if Harry got to have it his way. Plus, you two wreaked of “I just had the best sex of my life” the minute you stepped into the building”

Y/N just blinked at Lydia, blushing at her comment. She hadn’t heard anyone talking about them like that before, and it made her heart grow three sizes. Was it that obvious to everyone? Even Harry?

“Really, you think so?” Y/N replied with a watery smile. Lydia looked at her with a smile. “I know so. There’s absolutely no doubt. I’ve known Harry for about three years, and he’s never been like this, ever. It’s like a different person, I’m telling you- “. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, both Lydia’s and Y/N’s eyes flying up to see Harry at the door. “Hello ladies, I was just wanting to borrow Y/N for a quick second.” He tried to be professional, bless him, but the smile overtaking his features revealed him. Lydia smiled at him. “Of course. No funny business, Mr. Styles.” She teased him with a smack on his arm as she left the room, turning around when she was behind him and staring at her intensely, “I TOLD YOU” She mouthed to her.

Y/N chuckled, rising from her chair and meeting Harry halfway around the conference table. “What a pleasure, Mr. Styles, what could you want me for, huh?” Y/N teasingly smiled as she stepped into his embrace. Harry looked down at her with nothing but love in his eyes, his thumb grazing her cheek as she leaned into his touch, “Just wanted to ask the lady if she would like to have dinner with me, tonight. Was thinking about making my famous curry, and I’d like for you to be there.” Harry continued with his little act. “Well, my good sir, I would really like that. I’ll see you later, then.” Y/N replied courteously as she began walking out; but not before Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her back into him. Both his hand on her face, gently passing his fingers through her hair and picking at stray pieces of hair, lovingly. “I love you, be good, yeah?” He said in a way that made her lower stomach flutter with arousal. “I’ll be good. I love you.” She replied before he attached his lips to hers in a long, soft kiss. A few more pecks for good measure, and then she turned around and left, a glimmer in her eye.

Harry stood glued in his spot, completely besotted with her and everything that was her. “I think I need to marry her.” He whispered to himself as he shook out of his daydream, to continue his workday.

[ssa-neeks-prentiss]

Prompt: someone on the team has a secret child (the reader) and the team is shocked, but Hotch get into dad mode/uncle mode and has the child wrapped around his finger in minutes.

You choose the age of the child. I mean they could be an adult I guess.

Note : I might make this into a series and sorry if your name is Eleanor! I've also decided to stray and now she has three kids instead of one... Sooooo! I've also got like a little storyline and backstory planned out so it's like a 90 percent chance it will be a series! I also may have strayed a little of track :3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Word Count : 1.1k

AARON'S POV

He had been at work for roughly three hours by the time the team started to file in. He was always early, always getting there earlier than Spencer or Dave. It was a normal Tuesday. Except Tuesday meant paper work day. Despite how the team viewed him, he, in fact, did not like paperwork. At all. But he suffered through, wanting to be the best agent.

But he knew he wouldn't be. You were there. Wait, no, that sounded like jealousy. Okay, it kind of was. But you were just perfect. You were deterimined, young, agile and creative. The perfect agent. He was honestly surprised at the fact you hadn't been move up or been transferred to a higher department by now. But, their loss was a win to him.

He was then dragged from his thoughts as he heard a commotion from outside his office. Confused, he stood up and stepped outside. He looked down to meet the deep blue eyes of a young girl. His brows shot up in surprise as he spoke with a gentle tone.

"Hello?" He tried to not let his demeanor scare the girl and sighed in relief as the girl didn't seem to care, instead opting to grin and wave at him.

"Hello! I'm Eleanor, but everyone calls me Ellie! What's your name?"

He smiled at her introduction, the innocence of a little child always seemed to amaze him. He then leaned down.

"I'm Aaron. Nice to meet you."

She grinned up at him.

"You're Aaron! My mama told me about you!"

He looked perplexed.

"Your mama? Who's your mama?"

She looked at him with an incredulous look as if he had said the most stupidest thing ever.

"My mama? You don't know mama?"

He shook his head.

"Not by the name Mama. I would know her by a different name."

Eleanor nodded in an understanding way.

"Sorry, I don't know my mamas real name. I just call her mama."

She spoke with a shrug. He frowned.

"Can I pick you up? Then we can try and find your mama."

Her eyes lit up and she nodded.

"Okay! I don't know where mama went. She told me to stay put but I got Distracted."

He smiled softly as he picked her up as rested her on his hip. He then straightened up as he saw Derek walk up to them.

"What the.. You know.. I'm not even gonna ask."

Derek spoke with his hands up as he turned away but he paused when Eleanor spoke.

"You're Derek, right? Mama told me about you! She says you like.. Kicking doors down?"

Aaron chuckled quietly as he turned back around with a smile, well, it was more of a smirk.

"She did? Well, who is your mama?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know her name. Me and Aaron are going to find her! Do you wanna come? Ooh! Can I go on your shoulders? My uncle Azrael let's me go on his shoulders while he carries my sister!"

Aaron stopped and frowned.

"Your sister? Where is she?"

She looked up at him.

"Oh, she's at school, but mine was shut because of... Uh.. Stuff!"

Derek laughed at her explanation.

"But Azrael had this important job thingy or whatever so I got to go to her job with her! Which is this. But then I got lost. So I don't know where mama is now!"

The two shared looks of amusement at the girls words and her nonchalant tone while speaking. Aaron cleared his throat as he spoke.

"So, can you describe your mother?"

Eleanor nodded eagerly.

"She has Y/H/C hair!"

Aaron nodded. So that was still about half of the people in the building.

Eleanor moved to jump down and Aaron let her. She scrambled away surprisingly quickly for a little kid and Aaron and Derek shared a glance before a mutual agreement was made as the two jogged after her. The two caught up to her quickly and they decided to just walk around. Eleanor ranted to them as they walked, she was similar to Spencer in that way, constantly having something to rant about.

"Oh! And we have a dog! A German Shepherd! He's called Rex! He's a police dog for my Uncle Azrael but he stays with us so he's technically my dog!"

Aaron paused. He swears he had heard of a police dog called Rex. It was definitely mentioned by someone on the team... Who though? He couldn't for the life of him remember, which annoyed him because it was important in the moment.

She skipped as she had a hand in Derek's and a hand in his. Then then heard a familiar voice frantically calling the girls name.

"Eleanor?! Ellie?! Els?!"

They used multiple nicknames and they paused. Eleanor's face lit up as she called.

"Mama!"

Eleanor let go of the twos hands as she ran.. Right to you.. You sighed what he assumed as relief.

"Eleanor! Don't you dare run from me again!"

She spoke in a cross tone but she hugged Eleanor nonetheless. Derek's face shifted into one of surprise and Aaron could feel his do the same. You clearly hadn't noticed them until Eleanor grinned at you.

"Look who I met!"

She then pointed to then and you stood up to thank them until you saw who it was and you froze.

Aaron raised a brow and Derek voiced their question.

"You have a kid?!"

"Two kids?"

Aaron added after as he remembered Eleanor talking about a sister. You then grimaced.

"Three."

Aaron's eyes widened in surprise and so did Derek's.

"Why didn't you tell us?!"

She shrugged.

"It was on my information when I applied?"

She added meekly. Aaron rolled his eyes.

"What's going on about kids?"

The commotion had attracted Spencer and Penelope. Derek turned to the two of them.

"Y/N has three kids! Three!"

Penelope's eyes widened.

"Really?! I wanna meet them!"

Eleanor grinned from where she was beside you.

"I like your dress!"

Penelope's head snapped to you and Eleanor as she squealed and jogged to you.

"Who's this bundle of joy? Why did you hide her from us!"

She immediately leaned down to wrap her arms around Eleanor who did the same and accepted the hug with a grin. You smiled at the two and when the hug broke she put Eleanor on her waist. She then turned to Spencer.

"You can do magic tricks right? Can I see one? I wanna do magic!"

She spoke excitedly and Spencer's eyes lit up. He smiled as he nodded eagerly and Eleanor immediately jumped off of her mother and ran to Spencer who waved his hands excitedly as he spoke to the little girl. Her turned back to you and saw you watch the two with fondness in your gaze.

He smiled and walked over to you. You looked at him and smiled greatfully.

"Thank you for looking after her."

"It was no problem."

And it wasn't because he loved you. And he would do anything for you, and, by extension, your children as well.

[canthelpit0]

Silent

Pairing: Matt x reader

Wordcount: 1.8k +

Summary: you’ve always quietly watched the triplets, silently wishing you could be a part of a group like them. Until you and Matt talk for the first time…

Warnings: selective mutism, anxiety, crying, angst, praise, no use of y/n, no oc

(Disclaimer: I’m not mute in any way. This was a request from an anon that I accidentally deleted. Hope you like it ! Requests are open)

I developed selective mutism pretty early on. My mom says that I didn’t talk even back in kindergarten.

But it’s been years now.

I can talk, and I can’t shut the fuck up for the life of me. I talk a lot, even have full conversations with myself.

Just not at school, or around new people. God, especially not in school.

It’s not like I want to be the ‘ weird’ mute kid. I would love to talk and make friends, I just physically can’t open my mouth and talk.

It even took months for me to utter simple words to my therapist, tho by this point I’ve known her for years and I’m pretty comfortable.

There are these triplets in my grade. We’ve always gone to the same school, but I don’t think they ever noticed me.

Well the first time I noticed them was in first grade, because there were three of them. Of corse my six year old self didn’t understand the concept of multiples back then, and I really wanted to ask, and talk to them. I really thought they were cool.

The first time I interacted with any of them tho was when I was in fourth grade and Nick had asked to use my dark green pencil since he only had light green and needed both dark and light.

Back in fourth grade I wasn’t just selectively mute, but also really shy. So I’d just looked down and stared at the desk giving him a small nod.

In freshmen year I shared a class with Nick again, he asked me for a pen, wich I gave to him.

Despite not having talked to him once in my entire life, he remembered my name. Wich isn’t too shocking since we’ve always been around each other, I was just kinda in the shadows.

He actually gave me that pen back. Most other people would’ve forgotten and just taken it, but Nick didn’t and I appreciated that.

I only ever interacted with Nick those two times. despite sharing a few classes with both Chris and Matt over the years, I’ve probably never even held eye contact with either of them.

I’ve been watching everyone.

Bullying isn’t really a thing. Sure there were some hurtful comments by jocks here and there but it really wasn’t as bad as in the movies.

Besides I think most people forget i even exist so they don’t even bother bullying me.

I’ve had my eye on Matt for a while. Not in a weird way. But Matt seems to pretty obviously have anxiety too. I don’t know if he’s open about it, I’m not in his friend circle.

But every time I’m feeling overwhelmed and we’re in the same room, I unconsciously glance at him to see if he feels the same or if I’m just going crazy.

Chris seems to be the loudest and most extroverted one. And while yes, Nick seems pretty extroverted too, Chris seems more… random? Bold?

I sulk in the back of the class my lips pulled into a tight line as I try to get myself together.

There is literally no reason for me to be feeling like this. Honestly no one has tried to talk to me today, nothing happened, I just feel so overwhelmed.

I raise my hand just slightly. I make eye contact with the teacher. Mrs. Evans. I literally love her, she’s so kind.

Her son is apparently mute too.

When I was diagnosed with selective mutism they thought it’d be a great idea to make me learn sign language just in case, and that’s just what I did.

Since Mrs. Evans son is mute, her son, as well as her and her husband also learned sign language.

So whenever I needed something I could sign to her. Not that I wouldn’t be too embarrassed too.

Our eyes lock. Everyone was working on some paper I should also be doing, but I’m too busy hyperventilating.

I let my hand drop on my desk and glance at the door quietly asking if I can go to the nurses office since I was too tired and ashamed to sign it to her.

She gives me a pitying smile but nods. I hate pity, but then again that’s better than getting told im faking.

I look around the class of students. I get up, as quiet as I can. I pack up my little stuff and quietly walk to the front of the class. I nod in appreciation and walk outside.

I stare at the ground while I walk down the hallway. I sigh.

I feel my eyes start to water and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Honestly I should probably go to the nurses office to get checked out, just so I can leave. But I don’t think I can handle communicating with another human.

I feel like I’m about to break down. I continue to walk down the hallway clutching the straps of my bag harshly.

I consider if driving home even is a good idea seeing as I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Or-

Suddenly I bump into someone.

I close my eyes trying not to cry right then. I don’t know who I bumped into but I want to apologize, but I know that I can’t, and since I don’t know who I bumped into I don’t know if it’s someone who’ll be mean about it or-

I’m taken off guard by a gentle brush to my upper arm.

“You’re good, it’s okay” I hear a soft voice say. I can feel my lip quivering, I feel like if I open my eyes the tears brimming at my waterline will actually fall.

“can you open your eyes?” It sounds more like a question, and that voice sounds painfully familiar but I can’t quite place it.

I want to tell him that I can’t, that I’ll cry if I do and I’ll feel even more embarrassed. But my curiosity takes over me.

So I slightly blink open my eyes. I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to see the person through my tears.

It’s Matt, looking down at me all concerned.

I blink my eyes open. at the sight I watch his expression relax just slightly.

He himself looks overwhelmed, and honestly I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m acting, or if he had a shitty day himself.

“You okay?” He sighs slightly. I watch as he licks his lips and swallows thickly.

I take in another deep breath trying to calm down. I nod just slightly, but while I do the tears in my eyes finally spill.

I feel my hot tears run down my face. Matt’s eyes immediately widen and his mouth opens slightly like he thinks it’s his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no please don’t cry.” He holds up his hands in front of my face as if he wanted to wipe my tears away but was holding himself back because he didn’t know my boundaries.

He looked miserable, like he was about to cry himself. And I just know that something this wouldn’t have him emotional like this on a normal day. At least I don’t think it would. But he seemed to be overwhelmed as well.

I scrunch my nose slightly sniffling in response. I glance back up at him and the sorrow in his eyes makes me want to sink into myself. I breathe out shakily.

Before I know it I’m bringing my hands up to my face and covering it. I tilt my head forward trying to stop crying, because crying in the school halls is just pathetic.

“I’m sorry. Fuck- can I touch you?” I hear his frantic voice. I appreciate that he asked first. I want a hug, but then again I don’t know Matt. But he just seems so genuine.

I overthink not responding to his question. My thoughts spiral at the sound of the sweet nothings and apologies leaving his mouth, only being back round noise.

Matt seems to notice that I’m starting to spiral. I feel his hand tenderly touch my wrist. I flinch slightly, and as soon as I do I feel him retract his hand.

Everybody deals with anxiety differently, some people like to be physically grounded others liked to be comforted some other way and I just knew that Matt was trying to figure out what to do without overstepping.

I’d tell him that it’s okay, or that he can hug me, but I literally can’t speak and I feel too embarrassed to let him see my teary face.

“I’m sorry, I’m-“ I hear Matt let out a breath. I know an anxiety breath when I hear one, he is panicking.

I decide to bite the bullet, what’s the worst that can happen. I look up slightly and peak through my fingers.

His hands are up and frozen. He looks almost frantic, Matt looks like the only way he knows how to ground me is by hugging me or something, but he seems unsure if that’s okay.

Despite myself I let out a little nod. Matt lets out another breath but this time he actually touches me, and I don’t flinch.

He holds my wrist and gently pulls my hands off of my face.

I let out a shaky sigh. I can’t help it when I let my head fall forward.

“It’s okay.” He says sweetly under his breath. He puts his hand under my chin as he picks my face up. Our eyes lock. I see the way Matt is also crying, tears running down his face too and I relax just a little.

He never seemed like the type to make fun of someone for crying, but especially not now.

“You wanna go to my car?” He says softly, not in a way where he is forcing me to do anything, but rather offering.

And honestly as upset as i am I have to weigh my options. Would I rather cry in the school hallways or in Matt’s car?

The best option would be to go to the bathroom, but Matt wouldn’t be able to come with, and honestly I would feel too bad leaving him alone at this point.

So I nod.

I feel Matt’s arm go around my shoulders as he hugs me for a moment. He turns me, and starts walking in a way where his arm is still around my shoulder keeping me close to him.

We walk out to the parking lot. I watch as Matt unlocks the car and opens the door for me to enter.

And by this point, if I go out this way so be it…

Before i can even register Matt is also getting into the backseat next to me.

We just look at each other for a moment. He breathes out another anxiety sigh.

“You want a hug?” And with that I don’t really know if he’s asking for me, or to comfort himself. But regardless I nod.

I feel his arms come around me and I sink into the feeling of his hug.

I’m uncertain if by tomorrow he’ll act like this all never happened, or if he’ll try to get to know me, because I’ve been wanting to know him for a while and I would more then gladly let him.

Masterlist

A/n: I know this is really short and I’ve been uploading a lot of angst recently. But I’ve been feeling sad, and every time I do write smut it’s for Kinktober. Soon you’ll get smut tho. Also this ended up a lot like crybaby. <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life

[decaying-church]

Kinktober Day 4: Hate Sex + Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman x male!reader

Kinktober 2023 List | Day 1 | Day 5 | Ao3

(a/n: shout out to the people that sent request for today yall came in clutch. )

Summary: Working for Patrick Bateman was hell. A hell that seemed to improve after he tried to kill you

Warning: rough sex, these bitches hate each other, reader has a thing for bloody men, Patrick tries to kill reader, then they fuck, fucking on desk, slight voyeurism, unprotected sex, unsafe sex, fucked over a desk, reader gets his dick sucked, reader being a bad Dom (cuz they hate eachother), not beta reader, not even a little bit, errors that will be fixed tomorrow cuz I'm sleepy.

Words: 1968

It wasn’t hard to hate Patrick Bateman, he was an entitled asshole to the misfortune of both you and him, you were his new secretary.

Well “new” as in most recent, as his last one had good missing, while you didn't like the idea of becoming the secretary of a rich man whose secretaries consistently went missing, you didn't really have a choice, rent was due and they offered to pay you on a biweekly basis, which you really needed, so you joined the team.

But god, Patrick was the most insufferable prick you’ve ever met. So demanding and so fucking needy and impatient and selfish and cruel and inappropriate with every word he spoke to you.

You hated him, and he hated you.

He resented you because he wasn’t attracted to you, you weren’t the pretty, female secretary he was used to. You could tell he liked having that power over women from the way he treated other people secretaries, kind and flirtatious before some kind of switch seemed to flip in his mind mid interaction and he was suddenly he was his true self, a needy, perverted asshole.

You never got the nice side, from day one he’s always been your asshole boss, you do half of his work and barely even get a thank you, it’s truly and honestly ridiculous.

You made sure to tell him how much you hated him every chance you got, your contract made it so you had to be employed under Patrick for at least 5 months before you could quit or be fired. So instead of wallowing in your hate, you let it flow freely. Letting it fill every interaction you had with him. Public, private, it didn’t matter, your disrespect was constant.

You didn’t think today was going to be any different, the morning was perfectly ordinary, making copies, sighing Patrick’s papers, getting on his nerves, he was quieter today, less likely to retort your remarks than he usually was. You’d been working for him for four and a half months now, you figured he was getting ready to fire you.

But as the night drew closer and you were getting ready to clock out, when he asked you to stay late, not told, asked.

He must have hit rock bottom, finally.

You stayed, even as the rest of the office went dark. Your desk had its own lamp so you didn’t mind the main lights being shut off. What you did mind was Patrick repeatedly calling your intercom without saying anything, then hanging up. It was annoying, and after the fifth time, you decided to go yell at him about it.

He wasn’t at his desk when you walked in, without a lick of hesitation in your body, you turned around to head out the door, only to find Patrick standing in front of it, pulling white gloves onto his hands, an unreadable expression on his. Before you could open your mouth to question him, his hands were around your throat, squeezing hard.

It was a short lived attempt on your life, as you pulled your foot back and kicked him in the knee as hard as you could. He dragged you down with him as he fell, with you landing on top of him you had the upper hand, punching him square in the face, again and again until your knuckles and his nose and mouth bled. The moment you felt his hands weaken around your throat you jerked back, simultaneously yanking his hands from around your neck, pinning them on either side of his head.

With no real plan on where to go from here, and Patrick having not expected himself to fail, the two of you sat there making intense eye contact for well over a minute.

You didn’t know what to do, Patrick had tried to kill you, failed, and is now pinned helplessly beneath you, looking just as confused as you did.

Oddly enough, Patrick was…experiencing a few new things at this moment. Deflation was one he was familiar with, but complete and utter submission was new for him.

He tried to kill you, but he couldn’t, and you were still alive, holding him down, staring at him with so much pure emotion on your face that he nearly felt overwhelmed by it. He didn’t even try to fight back, instead breaking eye contact to stare at your body above him. It was easy to say he was an admirer of yours, but you are too disrespectful, too mean, and entirely too unflattered by him for him to make a move.

Here you were, though, above him, he was powerless beneath you, anything could happen, he pressed his thighs together, anything could happen.

You were having similar problems. You loved a man covered in blood, particularly his own blood. And that is exactly what Patrick was, looking so pathetic beneath you, staring at you, and your body, wantonly. And you let him.

“What the fuck?” you said, with no real conviction in your voice.

He breathed out hard but said nothing. Just staring down at himself for a long moment, then back up at you. You followed where his gaze had been, your eyes meeting the obvious bulge in his perfectly fit slacks.

You breathed out a short laugh.

“You get off on trying to kill people, Batemen?”

He shook his head at your allegations.

“So it's just me?”

He breathed in hard, avoiding your eyes.

“You like it when I hold you down Bateman, ‘cause that's what it seems like..”

“I'm sorry-” he gasped out, but you interrupted him.

“No, you're not, you're not sorry for trying to kill me, you're horny and want me to fuck you.”

A moment passed

“-please?” his gasp of a word was ever so slightly painful, that, and the blood still free flowing from his nose, made you jump into action. Dragging both hands above his head, then keeping them pinned with just one of yours, using your now free hand to undo your belt, Patrick watched intently as you unfastened the buckle and pulled the belt off in one hard tug.

He watched as you made a makeshift pair of handcuffs, using your teeth as an extra hand while your other was occupied.

“Turn over.” he didn't move.

Letting his hands go for a second you forcefully put the man on his stomach, slamming him on the ground a bit harder than you would anyone else. You regathered his hands and pushed them into the cuffs, pulling to tighten them until the skin around them began to bruise.

Letting his hands rest on his lower back you leaned in close to his ear.

“If you want me to do this you're going to have to listen, understand?”

He nodded rapidly.

“Good.”

You stood up, appreciating the sight of the man lying on the floor between your legs for a moment before picking him up and dragging him over to his desk, you nearly slammed him down over it, he didn't say anything about it, actually, based on the moan he let out and the way he was already spreading his legs and was wiggling his hips in anticipation, you figured he liked it.

You didn't prep him, he'll you didn't even warn him, his pants were off and pooling around his ankles so quickly that he’d barely had time to process it, then, after taking a short moment to appreciate how beautiful and pristine Patrick's ass was, pressing your finger against his hole to see how tight it was, never actually penetrating him though, only stopping when you were satisfied with the answer, very, and his reaction. watching his thighs twitch in response. Then fully and with an utter lack of any hesitation, you pulled your pants and underwear down just below your hip, taking your already hard cock in your hand and giving it a few hard pumps before pressing it against Patrick's hole. He froze up, but his knees still shook, nervous and excited and impatient all at the same time. Then, without saying a word or giving a sign, you pressed in fully, starting at a pace that burned him from the inside out, and you were right, he was very tight, almost hard to push into, but you made it work.

You nearly zoned out his squeals, screams, and moans as you fucked him, unable to move, his insides stretched wider than they'd ever been- he's never done this before and the pain of it was unignorable. He tried to focus on you, your cock, making him feel so good and so bad at the exact same time.

The desk beneath him creaked with every rapid thrust, his stomach pressed uncomfortably against his own nameplate, and with his arms tied, and you being his near ruthlessly fucker for the night he didn't dare ask you.

It wasn't hard to get lost in Patrick, he was beautiful, he felt amazing around your cock, and his voice was more than perfect as he screamed and moaned your name into the empty building.

Then, an idea popped into your mind, the building wasn't completely empty, security was roaming around, checking the doors, the cameras. Looking around the room you spotted it, the blinking red light a clear sign that someone was watching. Grabbing Bateman by the hair you hoisted him up, ignoring his pained yell in favor of showing him the camera.

“Look at that, who's on camera duty tonight, Bateman?”

He blabbered and whined before saying he didn't know. You let go of his hair, and he fell back down to the desk with a bang, gasping out in pain, which soon merged with the pleasured moans that fell from his mouth constantly.

“You think they want a turn? Huh? Maybe they want to fuck you over the desk too, or maybe on the floor. I'd let them use you, I'd let them pass your ass around all night long.”

“No-” he gasped, “just you, just you please-”

He hurried his face in the sheets of paper covering his desk, embarrassed. He's never belonged to anybody, and he surely doesn't belong to you, but the more you fucked him and the fuzzier his mind got, the more he considered, then accepted It.

His back arched hard, his chest still pressed against the desk as he tried to keep his footing, his legs shakey and sore from you kicking him and everything that came after.

“Y/n~im so close, so fucking close, mhh Ah- Ah, ah-”

And he was, his body tensed hard, cum dripping down his cock before shooting out the tip, making a mess of his desk and the floor.

“Fuck, Bateman-” you gasped, just as close as he was a second ago, “you're fucking pathetic.”

You made the splint second session to pull out, much to Patricks, who was actively experiencing sexual overstimulation for the first time and was completely unprepared, relief.

That was until you dragged him off the desk and onto the floor, making him kneel in front of you. Grabbing his jaw and forcing it open, shoving your cock into his unexpected mouth, but that was fine, you used his mouth just as roughly as you'd used his hole.

You didn't last long after that, between Patrick's warm mouth and tongue being used like your personal toy, and his complete and utter submission to you, it was all just too beautiful.

With a final hard thrust into his mouth, your cum shot down his throat, making him choke and gag, and eventually swallow.

Then, staring down at him, you stuffed yourself back into your pants, forcing Patrick to the round, took your belt, and left. Leaving behind a confused, exhausted, and fucking satisfied Patrick Bateman.

[avianyuh]

Boring | Min Yoongi

Summary: For almost a year, you've worked for Min Yoongi's company. He gave off the impression of a cold businessman. No one ever saw him smile, laugh or discuss anything other than work. Everyone seemed to think he was a boring guy, who was too consumed with work. You'd assumed there was more to him, and often fantasized about him, but as far as you knew, he wasn't even aware of your existence. You didn't think he noticed you at all in meetings, or when he walked past your cublicle, but maybe you just weren't paying enough attention?

Word Count: 2.9k

chapters [1] ?

The worst thing about meetings is when they are scheduled at inconvenient times of the day. Like this you were currently sitting in. It was 3pm on the dot, on a Wednesday. Two more days left in the work week until you could sleep in until 11am. Two more dreary days of fake smiling at all of the coworkers you secretly couldn’t stand. Two more pathetic days of hearing the mindless office chit chat that you tried so hard to tune out. But one thing you would actually miss as you’d lay in bed until noon on Saturday was the sight standing right in front of you, giving the most boring presentation. Min Yoongi. Your boss, your superior, and your secret crush. Yes, it sounds like grade school to say you had a secret crush on him, but it’s the truth. You hadn’t mentioned it to your friends and definitely not the two women you were friendly acquaintances with at the office. It was an innocent infatuation. You couldn’t help yourself. He looked so attractive when he was dressed in his office attire. You had never seen a man look as good in a suit as Min Yoongi did. And when you happened to catch him adjusting his tie or recuffing his sleeves, it sort of sent you ‘over the edge’ and would become the highlight of the day. You loved to stare at him when he walked down the aisle past your cubicle. You held your breath if you were standing next to him in the elevator on the way up or down. And you fantasized about him while you sat through his boring presentations. You couldn’t fathom why a man so attractive could be perceived as so monotone and frankly, boring. You would see him walk around the office and interact with the other employees, but he always kept a straight face. Even when some of his clients would try to crack some jokes with him…nothing. You wondered why he kept so many walls up, well if that was even the case. Maybe he wasn’t guarded, maybe there simply wasn’t anything interesting about him? And that’s why you were more than okay with keeping your little crush a fantasy. You knew that you would probably be incompatible considering he seemed to have no soul. And honestly, you did like to tell a few jokes. You looked up from your notepad and stared at him, just as everyone else in the room was doing. Though you were basically invisible at this company, you still had to pretend like you were paying attention every once in a while.

“By tomorrow morning I need that file on my desk. It’s crucial that everything’s done and ready to go for the Smith account. Who was in charge of that?”, as the twelve other people in the room all turned their heads to look at me, I suddenly felt nauseous as my stomach started to twist into knots. As I darted my eyes from my coworkers, they landed on Yoongi, who was staring at me expectantly, waiting for his file. I cleared my throat and shuffled through my papers, pulling the manilla file out from under my notepad. I stood up from my chair as I walked over to him. His eyes followed me the whole time.

“Here it is Mr. Min.”, I said as I handed him the file. Your fingers briefly touched and you noticed just how calloused they were. You wondered why that was. He nodded at you and murmured a short Thank You, before he moved on to the next subject and you scurried back to your seat. By the time the meeting was over, I was back at my desk and watching the clock. 4:30. Only a half an hour left. You had finished all of your assignments and was just fiddling with the pencil in your hand when your office phone started ringing. “Hello?”, you answered, annoyed and wondering what could possibly be so important to warrant a call 30 minutes before you could leave.

“Mr. Min would like to see you in his office.”, the woman said before hanging up immediately. Shit, I thought. What could I have possibly done? He’s never wanted to see me in his office except for that one time when he gave a speech to everyone after we secured that big client. You had remembered to take note of his office since at the time you assumed it would be the only time you’d see it. He had photos lining his desk. Him at different sports games. Mainly basketball games. Pictures of him posing next to players, a picture of him on a boat, and a picture of a family. It looked like an older photo, so you assumed it was a childhood photo of his. But that’s all you could remember at the time since that night you had been knocking back quite a few drinks with your colleagues in celebration of the pay raise. But now here you were, approaching his secretary’s desk. “Y/N? Let me notify him before I send you in.”, His secretary looked down at the phone before pressing the button to ring him. “Mr.Min…yes, she’s here. Okay, I’ll send her in.”, She glanced back up at you, “You can go in.”, she said blankly before staring back at her computer screen, you gave her a quick nod as you walked past her desk. You could hear the frantic sound of her typing on her keyboard. You knocked on the door once before peaking your head in.

“Mr.Min? You wanted to see me.”, your voice was timid. Mainly due to the fact you were wrecked with nerves on the inside. You had been raking your brain on the walk down to his office on why you’d been called in. Maybe you were getting fired? But, on the same day you have that interaction with him during the meeting? It was the first time you had properly spoken to him.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Please close the door behind you and take a seat.”, there it was again, that emotionless, monotone voice. It made it one hundred times harder for you to gauge what this conversation would be about. Was he angry? Was he calm? You had no idea. His face was stone cold. You really never saw him smile. And not to mention, his office was so dark, the blinds were almost completely drawn shut and now the door was closed. You found it concerning that he wanted the door closed. Last time someone went into his office and closed the door, they were walking out an hour later with two boxes filled with their belongings. You started to fidget with your fingers as you took a seat. You took a deep breath in as you watched him pull his hands out of his pockets and move from his standing position against his window and take a seat in his own chair across from you. “First of all”, he started, “You don’t have to worry, you’re not being fired, so you don’t have to play with your fingers.”, Immediately you placed your hands at your sides.

“Oh, um, didn’t realize anybody would pick up on that habit…”, you said, shocked at how observant he seemed to be.

“Well, I’ve seen you around the office and in my meetings for almost a year, and you do it at least one meeting per week.”, he shrugged before looking down at his desk and opening one of his filing cabinet drawers underneath. He pulled out a folder, specifically the manilla folder you had just given him during the meeting. He handed it over to you, and you furrowed your brows in response as you took it. “I skimmed through it, everything seemed fine. Problem is, I just got a call from Smith himself, and it turns out, his assistant faxed over all the wrong information. He’s still coming in tomorrow and expects the folder to be ready to go.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you assumed he was about to ask you to stay late and re-do everything, just because someone else made a mistake? Unbelievable. Before he could continue speaking, you intervened, “So what? Now I have to re-do everything? Do you understand that all that work in this folder took me a whole week. Rome wasn’t built in a day Sir.”, you snapped. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, seemingly challenging your opposition.

“So you’re telling me that you refuse to do it? I understand it’s asking a lot, but you would be paid for any overtime. I can’t force you but if you don’t stay, don’t expect any big projects in the near future. Maybe Jerry at the cubicle across from you would like your next project?” You narrowed your eyes at him in a silent attempt to say, screw you.

“Sir, all I’m saying is that I sort of feel like this was sprung on me a half an hour before work ends, and you’re telling me I have to do a week's worth of work on my own in one night. I just don’t see how that’s fair.”, you explained, trying to keep your voice from getting too loud. One wrong move or word and he could fire you on the spot for 'disrespect'.

“So you’re concerned about working alone? Fine, I’ll stay and work on it with you.” Yoongi said as he looked down at his wristwatch, most likely mentally rearranging his afterwork schedule.

“Seriously?”, you asked, surprised that he would even offer to stay and work on the file with you at all. He looked back up at you, nodding his head, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, get your computer, you can set it up in here. We have a lot to get through.” And boy, was he right. The next thing you knew, you were two hours deep into paperwork, calling as many people as you could reach to fact check considering the fact most people had left their offices for the day. By 7pm, you were getting a little irritated as you weren’t making much progress with the file. And not to mention the fact that you were getting hungry. You ran a hand through your hair as you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing down your pen on your notepad. Yoongi looked up from his computer screen, his head resting on his hand, and he had his left arm resting on his desk. You could tell that even he was getting frustrated, and that in turn made you angry. And before you could stop yourself, you exploded.

“So, how exactly do you do business around here? You’re telling me that the whole week there was no communication with the other party until half an hour before closing today, the day before they were expected to come in for a meeting?”, he rolled his eyes at you as covered his face with his hand in frustration.

“You think I did this on purpose? You don’t think I also want to go home?” , he snapped. Now you were rolling your eyes at him, you felt like this whole file was never going to get done and your efforts were pointless.

“Can we at least order some food?”, you murmured. To that, you actually heard him let out a chortle as he reached into his drawer for a few takeout menus. It wasn’t necessarily a full on laugh, but it let you know that he did have a sense of humor. You couldn’t hide your surprise and Yoongi seemed to notice.

“What? Are you surprised that I eat food…”, he questioned as he handed you the menus, “Pick one, I don’t really have a preference. They’re all good.”, you grabbed them, again briefly brushing your fingers against his own like earlier in the meeting room. You decided on Chinese and another half hour later, after Yoongi went to collect the food from the delivery man, you were both sitting on the couch in his office, just silently eating. At first you assumed it’d be awkward, just sitting there, but it was actually kind of nice since it gave you a chance to get your mind off of the file and your impending deadline. But then, Yoongi cleared his throat as he put down his food. “Can I ask you a question?” You were intrigued to see what his version of small talk was, so you immediately replied with a Hm. “Do you find me boring during the staff meetings?”, he let out a chuckle as he asked.

“What!”, you giggled. You were surprised at his question, you never assumed that he would ask something like that. “How would you be able to tell?”, you were surprised at his change in attitude. An hour ago, he was so frustrated and now he’s…trying to be funny? He smiled at you before he started explaining.

“Everytime I look over at you, you’re either playing with your pen, or doing that finger fidget thing. I mean, I get it, it’s boring material we’re going over, but c’mon, everything I talk about is boring?”, he asked, still smiling which signaled to you that this was all just lighthearted banter.

“Well, I mean, you have to admit, spreadsheets and deadlines aren't the most interesting stuff to discuss after the first 10 minutes of the meeting. I just think the meetings don’t have to be over an hour each, that’s all.”, you threw your hands up defensively, returning his smile. He shook his head playfully.

“You do great work here, but every time I walk past your cubicle, you have the most miserable look on your face. “, he smirked, replaying the times he’s walk past your cubicle in his head.

“That is not true!”, you responded back teasingly, “I put in 100% But, it’s not my fault that I have resting bitch face…Also I highly doubt every time you’ve walked past my cubicle I look like that.” He raised his eyebrow, still smirking.

“Yeah, you’re right. The other half of the time I see you, you're always staring at me.” Upon hearing that, you covered your face with your hands and Yoongi started laughing at your reaction.

“Stop”, you pleaded, fully embarrassed now. You had no idea he caught on to that, you always thought you were being discreet. But to be fair, you had no idea he knew you even existed. He never seemed to concern himself with you until today. You had even interviewed with him when you got the job, it was with a supervisor. “I had no idea you even knew of me. I just assumed I was another faceless office worker or something. I mean, you’re always so busy and you keep to yourself…”, you tried to cover your tracks, but you were doing a really bad job of it. “That’s not true at all”, Yoongi said, giving his tone a serious edge. If I saw any of the people I employ out on the street, I would recognize them.” “But would you go up and talk to them?”, you questioned, bringing back your teasing tone. When he didn’t respond, you laughed and he let out a dramatic sigh. “What, are you shy or something?”, you asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m shy, but I’m a bit quiet, but I think you already know that. I guess you could call me an introvert.”, Yoongi said sincerely. You nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I’m the same way. I prefer my alone time. No wonder we were so bothered at having to stay so late.”, you joked. Yoongi agreed with you as picked the remainder of his food. You looked down at your container and did the same for a few minutes, assuming you were almost done with your conversation. At least now you felt more comfortable around him. And it was reassuring to know that he did in fact have a personality. A sort of perplexing one at that. Before you had the chance to stand up to throw away your containers, he started speaking again.

“You know, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while Y/N. I just never had a reason to talk to you, but I’ll admit, when Smith called, despite how pissed I was about the mix up, when I saw your name on the file, I was looking forward to this.” And with that, those familiar nervous knots in your stomach returned. You really wanted to tell him that you had also been interested in him, that you also despite your frustration, working with him all night had softened the blow of missing your after work routine for once. But you decided to play it safe, after all, he is your boss.

“Well, I don’t regret staying to work on this with you.”, you responded back. Your eyes met, and you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. No one made a sound, and you weren’t sure of what to do. You studied his features. He had the most kissable lips, but you knew that would be a bad decision. One that you’d probably regret. His eyes seemed sad, and you weren’t sure of why you got that impression. You wondered if it was something you had said, but now that you were thinking about it, you always thought his eyes seemed like that. He was a mystery to you, one that you never thought you’d get the chance to uncover, but now, the window was slightly ajar into the man that is Min Yoongi and now you were really curious.

[A/N: So I guess my way of supporting Yoongi through this stupid scooter fiasco is writing a fanfic…Anyways, this is loosely based on a fanfic from years ago I had read on tumblr that I always went back to reread, until last week I noticed the story along with the account was deleted and deactivated :( To make matters worse, the story had never been finished, so in a way I never got to read how the story ended. So to make my teenage self happy, I’m making my own CEO Yoongi fanfic because I have to let my inner Yoongi freak fly. I anticipate that this will be a series, but I’m writing this author’s note before I even started writing the actual story so, we’ll see.]