#mans BOLTED for help

[avid-idiot]

That broken neck prank is brutal 💀

[wizardofpalmsprings]

If you called Minthara “Minthy” to her face, you would be walking back to your tent going “I don’t want to talk about it.”

[urnumber1star]

First Hire Part One

Yayyy the first part of the short story is finally doneeee! I have no idea why but I struggled doing this. I don't write things this short most of the time which is a sign that I need to do it more soooo....

Anyways enjoy! And feel free to tell me things I could improve on!

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“Really? Not even a lighter?” No One muttered, as he stood back up and looked down at the bloody figure below in disappointment. He had been searching through the mans pockets for the past several minutes and had only managed to find a few coins and an opened pack of cigarettes. 

He nudged the man with his foot and he rolled onto his back but remained unmoving.

“Hello? Helloooo?!” He yelled and leaned over the man. He couldn't quite tell if the man was breathing or not but he didn't care to check. He’d find out if he was alive later if he saw a news article about a, ‘Dead Body Found In Alleyway.’ 

He peaked around the corner in case anyone was coming and thankfully the roadblock was just as empty as it was earlier. That was one of the many upsides of doing these kinds of things at night. 

He turned back towards the man and grabbed his wrists and began awkwardly dragging him towards a large dumpster in the back of the alley. 

He dropped the man to the ground and looked up at the top of it, which was a good two feet taller than him. This seemed to be one of the few dumpsters around here where its hovering mechanisms actually worked, but even if it wasn't it would still be too tall for him. And even if it wasnt there was no way he was strong enough to lift the man over his head and throw him in there, without getting any blood on the white exterior.

No One groaned before stepping down to the ground and looking underneath the dumpster. It was a pretty decent space. And the man wasn't that large… 

He’ll fit. No One thought and began trying to push the man into the space with his foot. It unfortunately didn't get the man very far and No One began physically pushing him underneath the dumpster until he was no longer visible. 

“Ugh… sorry buddy!” No One laughed, and began walking off towards the street.  

Most businesses were closed this time of night and even if they weren't, who in their right mind would actually walk around outside alone in this side of the city?

No One snickered as he admired the buildings around him. They all practically touched the sky. All over a hundred floors at least. Though they weren't as fancy as the buildings in the inner circle of the city were. They were all made of old beige bricks that had been dirtied and weathered over the years to the point that they looked brown. There were bright neon signs by every window and trash scattered all over the streets. 

It was messy, and dingy, but it was different. And No One liked it. It just fit his style a little more than the fancy, bright colors of center city. 

As No One continued down the street he heard heavy footsteps behind him, slowly coming closer and closer. As he tried to speed up so did the person following him so No One decided to slow down and ready for yet another fight. 

“Hey, kid.” A gravelly voice said and grabbed No One's shoulder roughly. 

He turned around to see a very large man looming over him, and No One noticed he was also armed. 

“I have some questions for you if you wouldn't mind.” The man said. 

“I actually do mind. I’m a little busy right now.”

“Well then I’ll keep it short.” The man stated, and to No Ones surprise he let go of his shoulder. 

“I saw what you did to that man. Why did you do it?” 

“What man? I'm sorry sir but I don't know what you’re talking about!” No One grinned, and the man looked around the street before leading him towards one of the buildings. 

“Listen kid, I’m not stupid. So tell me, why did you murder that man.” He warned.

“No, sir you don't understand. I didn't murder anyone! He attacked me!” 

“After begging you for mercy.” The man sneered, and bent down closer to No Ones face. 

“Listen big guy. I’ve got places to be, so make it snappy. What do you want from me?” No One asked, his usual cat-like grin completely gone. 

“My boss has been watching you for weeks. He wants to meet with you.”

“Well, your boss can come talk to me himself.” 

“No. You’ll be coming with me.” 

No One raised an eyebrow and let out a loud, shrill laugh. 

“Really!? You think that I’m coming with you!? Why on earth do you think that I’d come with you!?” He cackled. 

“We want to make a deal with you.” The man explained.

“A deal? What kind of deal? What can you give me that I can't just get myself?” 

“I don't have that information. I’m just here to bring you to him.” 

“Your boss?” 

“Yes.” 

“And how do I know this isn't a trap?” 

“Because like I said, we’ve been watching you. I know what you can do to me. And I’d rather not have that happen.” 

No One smirked and began walking closer to the man, looking up at him. “Smart, but how do you know I wont just kill you right now?”

The man shifted his feet and No One knew his eyes were rapidly searching the street from under his glasses. 

No One laughed and motioned towards the road, “Don't worry about me big guy. You’ve gotten me curious. Lead the way.” 

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BRS tag list: @wyked-ao3, @illarian-rambling, @nine-is-not-a-ten, @leahnardo-da-veggie, let me know if you'd like to be added! (+/-)

[ratatatastic]

thinking a lot about ekky organising a fishing trip (the sturgeon tagging trip if you will) for some of the boys back in like february-ish* and with the knowledge that ekky has taken forsy out deepsea fishing this season do you know what its like going oh so he took him lakefishing in BC...oh okay

and also we got this shot of ekky manning a rod while forsy stands behind him like thats not- okay

[hauntingblue]

:)

[boltlightning]

smash nbc is a show and i sure am watching it

[actualsunflower]

Nick has a belly button btw

[wintergrofyuri]

"(blank) hates laios!" WRONG WRONG WRONG. SHUT THE FUCK UP

shuro is just as awkward as laios and it is made So clear he considers him a friend and likes him. he defends him when the canaries start talking shit and actively readies himself to physically fight them so they dont get to him.

namari also likes laios. she respects him as a leader and also defends him and readies to fight the canaries.

ive not actually seen anyone claim izutsumi hates laios, but a lot of ppl Are weird abt them. izutsumi and laios' relationship was rocky at the beginning. he struggled to figure out how to interact with her. but by the end, she actively seeks him out to talk with during the lead up to the feast. she hides behind him when falin wakes up. she has already realized shecan do what she wants and does not need to stick around, yet she does. she sleeps near him on the windowsill, waiting with him and marcille for falin to wake up. she has accepted him as part of her life and wants to keep him in it.

marcille does not hate laios. let me say this again.

Marcille Donato Does Not Hate Laios Touden.

marcille Loves him. in a platonic, familial sense. laios returns this just as readily. she yells at him. she whacks him. she tells him whats on her mind. she uses healing magic to ease his pain during the parasite fiasco. she reattaches his leg when he loses it. she teaches him magic. she lays her head on his corpse and cries before reviving him. she launches herself at him two times, when the canaries interrogate them and when he talks her down in the tower. he is a comforting presence to her. she trusts him, she cares about him, she worries about him, she imagines him as a big fluffy dog that loves and protects her. laios is her rock when falin is taken from them time and time again. and she tries to be his as well. she whole-heartedly, unconditionally, loves and trusts laios.

chilchuck does not hate laios. laios pays him his rates, no questions asked. laios trusts and respects chilchuck's job as a lockpick. laios does not see him as a child (at least, i cant think of an instance where he does so). chilchuck states, outright, he sees him as a friend and doesnt want to see him hurt. he actively worries about him as the falin situation gets worse. chilchuck respects laios. he shows almost 0 hesitation in helping get falin back, nor eating her by the end. he does not think of leaving him once, until he realizes he could lose him. chilchuck is cowardly with emotions and prefers to bottle things, so his first instinct was to bolt. he was angry because he was scared of watching someone he cares about destroy himself. laios is his Friend.

and holy shit. holy Fucking shit. kabru DOES NOT hate laios. kabru has the rockiest start known to man with him, and he Still helps him by occupying the canaries. he warns him about them. he hides the black magic from them just as shuro does. his whole Thing is trusting laios despite himself. kabru has his own baggage regarding other people, just like laios, yet he tries so hard to believe and trust this man. he Wants to. kabru is not very hopeful, but laios makes him Want to be. he states like 3 times he wants to be close to him and sees him as a friend. he stays through the entire feast!! the man who hates monsters, whose biggest trigger is monsters, actively, consciously, Willingly stayed through the entire monster meat feast. all to help his friend get his sister back. he could've left!! the feast was like an entire week!! yet he was there for every single day. he was one of the closest people to the door when falin awoke!! after reuniting with her brother, her friends, the people who knew her the most (plus senshi and izutsumi), the first person she greets is kabru!! he wants to be close to laios, he likes laios, laios is his friend and he cares for him, he wants to meet his sister!!! kabru fucking stays on the island with him as one of his closest, most trusted advisors when he becomes king!!!!! he wants to help him succeed!!!! he wants him to be happy!!!! laios is his friend!!!!!!!!

im just. people like laios!! laios is a nice guy! he is friendly and cares about people! he is weird, he doesn't understand most social cues, he oversteps boundaries, but they stay beside him, because they like him and he is their friend. he is their friend!!!!! friendship is not all sunshine and rainbows, relationships in general are not sunshine and rainbows. you will upset people, people will upset you, you will get into arguments, things will happen, but at the end of the day, the people close to you like you! they love you! they care for you! they want to work it out and get through it because they love you, but they will feel those emotions first! human relationships are complex and messy and life is complicated. even shows for toddlers know this.

if you truly believe any of these characters hate laios you are worse than a toddler. watch some fucking oobi or something. god. fuck.

take this

thanks

[ashtcnirwin]

🌻

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

you have to admit he did have around 70 years of extra practice

Regardless of the fact that I adore absolutely everything about Edwin Payne, I ALSO love that he can run so fucking fast!

In hell he was leaving Charles in the dirt every time they ran next to each other

It's just so funny that even though Charles is the brawn, he couldn't outrun Edwin for the life of him (and perhaps that's why they have a system of Edwin being the one to open the mirror portals for them like in ep 1)

[beloveds-embrace]

(Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️)

Your marriage to Duke Price is one out of necessity: you need a husband before high society begins rumoring you to be a barren woman and too old to be married off, and Duke Price needs a wife who is able to take on Duchess duties of his duchies.

You do not expect love, though you suppose it’d be a nice bonus. You are merely glad that Duke Price is a reasonable handsome man, and he informs you on your wedding night that he will not force himself on you, and there is no need to immediately begin attemtping for an heir.

You take admirably to your new duties, have been raised practically for this purpose though the head butler Kyle is wonderful in helping you as well- actually all the servants have been wonderful towards you. You have regular dinners with John, though they are a bit stilted but at least Chef Johnny’s food is good enough you can easily forget the tense atmosphere. You can tell your husband is hiding something- you are sometimes barred from going to his office to him, certain rooms are not allowed for you, and you are not allowed anywhere near the letters addressed to him- but as long as it isn’t hurting you, why should you bother him? So you never ask, and he seems happy enough that you don’t.

Until you accidentally stumble upon him and Duke Riley exchanging tongues. Very heatedly, hands grasping and tugging on each other’s clothes and Duke Riley sat on your husband’s desk.

It’s hot.

What’s not so hot is the way they both look at you when they realize you are there. You stutter, face a red so fierce it’d put a furnace to shame, and bolt out of the room despite hearing John call your name.

And you also skip out on the dinners for now, pretending you are sick with the help of your maids and their makeup skills.

But suddenly, it’s like your eyes have been opened. It’s not just Duke Riley who seems to hold a part of your husband’s heart; the one time you gather enough courage to maybe go speak with John and address the situation, you see Kyle stumbling out all disheveled and flushed, though he has a very satisfied air around him. He freezes when he sees you, and your jaw drops.

“My lady-“

“I- I’ll just- I’m taking a walk! Alone!”

You go to the kitchens instead, hoping that Johnny would have something delicious you can eat. Maybe something cold enough to wash away the blush on your cheeks.

Johnny is weirdly silent, however, even as he whips up chocolate mousse for you. His silence is not normal, it feels… almost guilty…

You sighs, take in a deep breath, and gather your dress. “Johnny… are you too…-?”

“Aye, m’lady. But-“

You can’t take it anymore. You leave the kitchens, and go straight back to your bedroom to bury your face in your bed. It’s not as if you are upset! It’s just- a rather befuddling situation?

Two nights later, it’s John himself who comes to you. You had assumed it was one of your maids returning with a new jar of oil for your nightly hair routine, but it’s your husband. You are glad it’s winter, and you aren’t simply in a thin nightgown.

“Wife.” He says, voice steady yet strained.

“John.”

You can’t call him husband. You’ve spent the last two days thinking and you were… rather sad. You were in the way of whatever they had (you saw Kyle and Johnny kissing, Johnny specifically sending food addressed to Duke Riley), weren’t you?

John sighs, sitting down on the settee while you remain on your vanity. After a moment of awkward silence, he opens his eyes and looks at you. “…what do you want to remain silent about this?”

You blink, raising an eyebrow. “…huh?”

John’s fists clench. “How much do you want in return for your silence?”

Frowning, you set your brush down and fully turn to him even if you feel exposed despite your thicker nightgown. “Is this about your… partners?” You say the word delicately, then shake your head. “I want nothing, John. If you are worried about me starting anything, I won’t. I just… hope this doesn’t mean you will divorce me?”

Being a divorced woman might as well be a death sentence on its own.

He looks at you, shocked into silence, and you quickly explain; his relationships have nothing to do with you and you aren’t a petty woman, who are you to come between what he and they have? You only hope this won’t take away the protection this marriage gave you.

That night, thus, you and John reach an agreement you are sure both of you are satisfied with.

Except, months later, John is no longer satisfied.

With the ice broken between the two of you. The dinners have become so much more… relaxing and comfortable, far less than they had been. No secrecy was needed when you were around anymore, and you only giggle and look away, feigning innocence when they share tender kisses between one another… and the less polite kisses.

John can’t remain satisfied with this arrangement. You are such a sweet thing, now that he’s become to know you far better. He can see the way his men are looking at you now, something between fondness and hunger and want; Kyle helps you far more often now, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. Even when you do it yourself, he stays by you and ensures you are comfortable.

And he joins your evening walks, arms looped as the two of you speak, laughing and giggling.

It’s similar to your late night chats with Johnny, where he plies your full of sweets and desserts until even your dreams are full of sweeter kisses you are sure will never be for you. Johnny, who cooks your favorites on hard days and who you heard from Kyle is even more serious about only having the best of the best in vegetables and meats and seasonings.

And Duke Riley… for all his stoicism, he is gentle with you. Even when he’d stared at you with doubt and mistrust, no doubt believing you to be lying to John and simply waiting for the shoe to drop and for you to ruin them. Yet it never happens, and now, during the galas you attend all dolled up on John’s arm and ignoring all murmurs about still having no children, you even dance with him and giggle at his terribly dry jokes, even share a few of your own with him.

Steadily, slowly, obliviously, John has watched each of his men fall for you. This, obviously, made you theirs. It made you his, more and more than you already were.

It’s why your current request is making him clench his glass in his hand, with Kyle looking on in displeasure as well, giving him subtle glances.

“-So that’s why I was asking, John,” you remain sweetly oblivious, adorned in a pretty dress Simon had gotten for you recently. “He will not spread any rumors, I’ll personally make sure of that-”

Your cheeks darken then, and you glance away. “I- I am… merely a bit- unsatisfied, if you understand my point. And the stable man is loyal to you, he wouldn’t say anything.”

It’s clear he needs to keep a better watch over you. Where and when did you even interact with his stable boy, Graves? Though he focused on your words.

Unsatisfied.

Well, he can’t have that, can he? You’ve done your wifely duties so admirably, it’s about time he took care of you as well… and maybe dealt with the baseless barren rumors as well. A baby would keep you nice and content and focused on them alone, wouldn’t it?

Oh yes. Yes, it would.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Working at the mattress store generally means a lot of long shifts. Ten hour days are not uncommon. You come in, sit alone in a box for a long time, maybe sell a bed, it’s fine. It’s not usually an issue of safety, though, because who’s coming in to shakedown a mattress store? We have no cash and nothing really portable.

But there was one night where I was whiling away my time and a guy came in. He was a big guy, muscular and very punk, tattoos, piercings, the works. We got along fabulously and while helping him a middle aged white couple came in. I was pleased to have a livelier night than I’d anticipated. I bounced back and forth between the disparate parties, eventually finding beds for both.

I finished sooner with the couple but they lingered uneasily by the front of the store instead of leaving and eventually beckoned me over. I trotted along to ask if everything was okay and the woman whispered to me that they were scared to leave me alone with the guy. It was getting late and he appeared quite menacing to them. I wanted to laugh, he was an absolute sweetheart, but instead I assured them that all was well and they could go.

They departed and I immediately told the guy what they’d said. We both had a hearty laugh over it. He finished his purchase and went on his way.

In the last hour, I had my final customer. A young white man in immaculate clothes, button down shirt with freshly shined shoes. Reader, I wanted to bolt. The man had the discordant energy of a cracked bell. Something was deeply wrong with his vibes despite his polished exterior. I desperately wished the nice couple would come hover in the doorway and stare.

I gritted my teeth and greeted him, projecting a friendly and unconcerned air. It seemed clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t actually that interested in getting a bed, which alarmed me even more. I tried to go through the process of fitting him for a mattress but instead he would segue off into telling me about his life while making unblinking eye contact. He asked probing questions about me. I longed for the nice punk man to come back in with a question.

I soldiered onward, visualizing my panic button and refusing to show the slightest hint of unease to him. Eventually he told me that he played piano. He asked if I would like to see a video of him playing piano. I said okay. He then turned his phone over and showed me his screen. In it, he sat staring directly into the camera while playing piano. Above the screen he stared with the same intensely unhinged energy in the video, two sets of serial killer eyes fixed on my tiniest reaction.

I smiled politely, pinned in place by social niceties. After an eon the video finally ended. It was clear he was not going to buy a bed. I insisted that I needed to lock up. He asked if he could stay for that. I firmly informed him he needed to leave for that. With reluctance he drifted out the door as I radiated calm assurance of my own safety and power, locking the door behind him. I turned out the lights and crouched behind the desk in the darkened store, peeking out to watch.

He sat in his car for a long time. But eventually he drove away. I darted out to my car and got home as quick as I could.

The encounter remains one of the most unsettling I’ve ever had in retail. In my decade of serving the public I helped a parade of characters from the harmlessly eccentric to the genuine creeps but this man truly frightened me unlike anyone I’d ever dealt with.

[webism]

☆ bestfriend!satoru likes seeing you in his clothes a little too much.

it starts with lending you a jacket when you're out late and it gets cold. he laughs at you first, makes fun of the way you shiver, but then his eyes drift and he realises he can see your hardened nipples through your shirt and suddenly he's layering you up in his jacket just to keep his mind from short-circuiting.

but the sight of you in his jacket is no help either, not when you drown in it because he's so damn tall and he's reminded of the difference in size between the two of you and for the first (more like third) time he's wondering what you'd look like beneath him in a mean mating press. how you'd feel shaking under his body weight: like how you're shaking now, but pleasure wracking your body rather than the cold wind.

he tells himself it's fine to have these thoughts. you're his best friend, you spent every waking hour together: it's only natural that his thoughts would eventually drift southwards. he'll snap out of it, he just needs to jerk off and clear his mind.

so he walks you home, and lets you keep the jacket.

but that night, he's in the shower with hot water scalding his skin, eyes squeezed shut as he strokes his cock at an inhuman pace. fucks his fist with anything but you in mind—he thinks about all his past trysts, about whatever porn he's seen lately, about his fucking cursed technique.

and he thinks he has it, he's pumping his cock with crazed strokes in an attempt to cum and clear his mind, but just as that pleasure starts to break into white hot lust, all he sees is you. in nothing but his jacket, wrecked on his cock and begging him for more.

and when he cums, he sees your eyes pleading up at him from where you’d rest on your knees, ready to take his load into your mouth because you crave the taste. He swears he can feel your fingers splayed over his thighs… your tongue tracing the pronounced vein that runs up the underside of his cock… your heated presence in the shower alongside him.

satoru says your name as he cums, and realises he’s wholly fucked and not coming back from this.

so, naturally, gojo plays into it.

the next time you see him is at his place, you come around to spend time with him and talk about the mundane that always seems exciting when spoken in the lilt of your voice. he offers you a drink, pours you a glass of red and promptly spills it over your pretty top—purely accidental, of course.

and he only takes a moment to admire the way the soaked fabric clings to your skin before he’s bolting into action and offering you a shirt of his own.

“it’s like you’re trying to steal my wardrobe, huh? first my jacket… now my shirt… got something to admit to, hm? you like wearing my clothes?”

it’s playful banter, you think, and roll your eyes with a huff as he hands you a shirt that’s oversized even on him. he wants to see you drown in the fabric, covered in him through clothing until he can cover you in another aspect of himself.

you make him look away while you change, though you know it’s an effort wasted because he’s all-seeing or whatever. and when satoru finally gets a look at you in his shirt he knows it’s game over. it’s like he’s left a mark on you, staked him claim not through bite marks or hickies as he usually would, but through the fabric that adorns your skin. his clothes smell like him, look like him, and are being worn by you.

he’s beyond hard, his cock is tenting his pants and he’s almost offended you haven’t yet noticed, because there’s no hiding a boner when you’re his size. you’re sweet enough not to look, even steal a glance out of curiosity—but he isn’t; his eyes are roaming your skin in such a heated way you feel feverish. it’s how he notices the wine that has spilt on your skirt as well.

he could tell you—offer you a pair of his sweats and cum in his own pants as the way they’d hang off your hips—but he doesn’t. instead, your best friend satoru gojo, the man you know like scripture, drops to his knees and takes the hem of your skirt between his fingers.

“what are you doing?” you think he’s cruel for a joke like this, when he looks so good on his knees, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as if he’s aching for a taste of you. you squeeze your thighs together, groan at the thought of gojos relentless teasing if he realises you’re soaking wet right now. “this isn’t funny.”

“i’m not laughing,” he says, tone flat. “your skirt is stained.”

“oh,” it is, you can see the wine seeping into the fabric.

gojo laughs, his grin sinful. “what? you get all flustered when i’m on my knees? how lewd.”

“shut up,” you try and step backwards, put some space between him and your pulsing heat, but his hands come to grip your thighs, fingers cool as they brush under your skirt and press into your skin. “you’re an asshole, toru.”

“i know,” his fingers creep higher. “i’m sorry.”

“no you’re not.”

“i know,” he parrots. “but you will be.”

“wh—“

in one practiced movement, satoru rips your skirt down and exposes you to him. he has to bunch up the shirt of his you wear with one hand and keep you from running with the other, but he’s met with a beautiful sight as a reward for all his pining.

“for coming to my house with no fucking panties on and acting like you don’t want me to fuck you like we’re more than friends.”

you learnt quickly upon befriending satoru gojo that he always seems to get what he wants. this is no exception, because after he spends so long fucking you with his tongue that his knees go numb against the cold tile, he’s got you laid down on his couch, his t shirt bunched up over your waist just enough for him to watch his cock sink into you over and over and over again.

he loves the sight of you grabbing at the fabric to keep it out of the way— how you whine for him to just let you take it off, all for him to press his lips to yours and conjoin you so you couldn’t undress even if you tried.

how with each thrust of his ravaging cock into you, he’s whining like he’s not the one in control. babbling filth as if he’s not got you pinned and taking every last inch of him—he’s pussy drunk and overbearing in his excitement and slurring his words as he speaks against your open mouth.

“never allowed to wear your own clothes again,” he steals your breath with each gasp he gives between thrusts. “only mine. i’ll burn yours, fuck, i hate your clothes.”

“you…” gojos fast rutting stalls your sentence. “…you brought me that skirt.”

“yeah? well where is it now?”

you recall the lecture you tried to give him when he threw your wine-stained skirt into his trash bin. you’d protest his dictation of what you wear if you had the mind to do so—but his cock is hitting your g spot in tandem with the ministries of his fingers over your clit… you’re half-near brain dead with the way he splits you open and unravels you like the threading of his clothes he’s fucking you in.

you can’t count your orgasms, only feel them shoot static up your spine with each one gojo manages to pull from you. and when he cums, spills over your parted thighs to dress you further in the essence of him, you swear you hear him babble something about putting a ring on your finger some day, to dress you in something of his permanently.

but friends don’t talk like that.

they don’t fuck like this either, though.

[mariasont]

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[geddy-leesbian]

all this is making me wanna work on my weird Luis being a Rockfort inmate and then Alfred Ashford forcing him to be his friend weird shit AU

[yuujispinkhair]

Sukuna’s the type of baby daddy that even if you break you never really broke up 😭 and if you got pregnant again there no chance in hell it could be anyone else’s kid besides his

The love you and Sukuna have is world-changing. Even after you break up, you are both still stuck on the other and unable to move on.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Hurt + comfort, fluff, mentions of smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Reader and Sukuna break up, but they get back together at the end of the story. There is a happy end. They already have a daughter together, and another pregnancy is mentioned at the end. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

It's not that you aren't trying to get over Sukuna. You really do. After a week of crying your eyes out, you decide to go out. It's not even that hard to get chatted up by some guy at a bar. But when his hand lands on your knee, you practically bolt. It feels so wrong, so dirty somehow. As if your body is still Sukuna's territory and no one else is worthy of touching you.

You try again a week later and the week after, too. But none of the men you meet spark your interest. Maybe this shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, only a few weeks ago, you had Sukuna. You had the best. There simply is no one who can compare to him. No one will ever make you feel the way Sukuna did.

You regret the breakup. It was stupid. Just small things that accumulated over several weeks, combined with a bad day at work and Sukuna being grumpy when you got home. You could have handled it differently.

But now, your bed always feels cold, and your heart doesn't seem to be in your chest anymore. Instead, there is a stone in your chest, heavy and painful, while your heart is in another part of this city, in the hands of the man who will always be the one for you, even if you will never get back together with him again.

+++

Sukuna asks to see his child, but you feel unable to face him, so you cowardly text him back, telling him to just pick your daughter up from kindergarten and spend the afternoon with her. When Sukuna brings her home in the evening, you are relieved that he seems to have gotten the hint. He doesn't come inside but waits at the front door as your daughter runs up the stairs to your apartment.

But you aren't strong enough not to hurry to the large window that faces the street, gazing outside to see Sukuna's familiar tall, broad figure slowly stroll down the street toward his car. His pink hair looks just like the cherry blossoms that fall down onto the road like pretty, pink snowflakes.

You know you will never be able to look at cherry trees again without feeling sadness wash over you.

Maybe you will try going on another date with some new guy, but deep down, you know that it will be in vain. It will always feel wrong. It will always feel like something is missing. Because none of those men are Sukuna. No one can be like him. There is only one Sukuna. Everyone else will always just be second best.

Sukuna isn't even trying to get over you. Not anymore.

On the first night after your breakup, he was a mess and stormed off to some bar, desperate for a distraction. Anything that would keep him from getting overwhelmed by his feelings.

He had some drinks and flirted with a random girl. Even took her home, thinking that sex would help him feel better. But the moment she tried to unbutton his shirt, Sukuna grabbed her wrists and stopped her.

It felt wrong. He felt wrong. As if he was cheating on you. He told the girl to leave and watched with his arms crossed as she angrily slammed his door shut before Sukuna sank down on his couch and buried his face in his hands.

He knew right then and there that it was no use to go out and try to have hookups. It wouldn't work, and it sure as hell would only make him feel worse.

In the following weeks, Sukuna worked longer and spent more time at the gym, always trying to stay busy because as soon as he got home to his deadly silent apartment, he was drowning in thoughts about you. Drowning in all those happy memories the two of you had made over the years.

You were Sukuna's love, his heart, his everything. He hadn't known or understood love until he met you. So how is he supposed to ever get over you and move on? It's impossible. You are still his everything, and you will always be.

And so it's clear as day to Sukuna that he won't even try to move on. He knows he will always be yours, whether you are together or not. He was only able to give his heart away once. And even if you don't want it anymore, it still belongs to you.

+++

Sukuna spends two days every week with his daughter, happy to see his little girl but sad because he misses the time when all three of you did things together. And when she looks at him with your eyes and asks him, "Daddy, why don't you just come home again?" Sukuna feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Sukuna doesn't know what to tell her. He, too, can't understand why the two of you decided to break up. It was stupid. Nothing big caused it. Just small things that added up, and looking back they seem insignificant.

"I don't know, princess. Maybe Daddy should really go home and talk to Mommy."

He decides at that moment that he will get roses and come up to your door this evening.

+++

Sukuna's chest feels painfully tight when you open the door, and he sees your face again after all those weeks, hitting him with just how much he missed you.

He hands you the roses, a beautiful huge bouquet that cost a little fortune, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"Please take those flowers. They come without any obligation to take me back or even talk to me. But I want to give them to you because you are still the mother of my child. And... and you will always be my woman, just like I will always be your man, even if we aren't together."

He fears he sounds like a creep, that he overstepped a boundary, and that he made you uncomfortable. But he has had lots of time to think during the last few weeks, and he promised himself that he would be more open about his feelings if he ever gets a chance to talk to you again.

You stare at Sukuna for a moment that feels like hours to him. But then he sees the tears gathering in your eyes and sees the way your hand that's holding the flowers is trembling. You breathe a soft "Kuna..." and Sukuna knows. He knows that you are still his, just like he is still yours.

He pulls you into his arms a split second later, crushing the beautiful roses between your bodies as he hugs you tightly. And you melt so perfectly against him as if you are made for him. Your face is pressed against his broad chest, and you snuggle against him, every centimeter of you touching him. You cling to him so tightly that it's almost painful, but it's the first time since your breakup that Sukuna feels like he can breathe again.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry for everything."

You both speak the words at the same time, eyes locked, small relieved smiles playing around your mouths.

You tell Sukuna to stay for dinner, and he agrees. He takes over the kitchen again, his kitchen, and prepares a dinner that he knows his two girls always loved. He sits at your table again, jokes around with his little daughter, and basks in the way you look at him with your eyes full of happiness.

Sukuna doesn't just stay for dinner but stays the whole night.

He kisses you after the two of you bring your daughter to bed. Pushes you gently against the wall and claims your lips again, though deep down, he knows that those lips always belonged to him, even when you were apart.

He grins when you laugh when he picks you up and carries you princess-style to the bedroom. Your lips are on his again, kissing him as if you can't get enough of him, making it hard to walk, but Sukuna would find his way to your bedroom even blind.

He locks the door behind you, turning around only to find your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt while your lips find his again in another passionate but tender kiss that makes Sukuna moan softly into your mouth.

He makes slow love to you in the bed you bought together all those years ago, showing you what it feels like to be loved and desired and cherished endlessly. And you wrap your arms and legs around him and meet each of his slow thrusts while you moan his name softly, and tears run down your cheeks, showing Sukuna the same love he is showing you.

Sukuna doesn't leave again after that night.

The two of you talk things out, and only a week later, Sukuna finally puts a ring on your finger and tells your little daughter that she needs to pick a pretty dress because she will be a flower girl at the wedding.

And only a month later, you place a positive pregnancy test on Sukuna's pillow, making both of you burst out laughing when you realize that you and Sukuna must have made another baby that first night when he came back and brought you the roses.

Thank you so much for the ask! It made me feel so many things, so I had to get these feelings out and write this little story 😭 I hope you enjoyed it and that it made you emotional, too. How could there ever be anyone else after Sukuna? It's really not possible 😭

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗