#sensitivity training in the workplace

[sarag1123]

How can leaders demonstrate cultural sensitivity in the workplace?

In today's interconnected world, fostering a diverse and inclusive workplace is not just a moral imperative but a strategic necessity. As leaders, it is crucial to demonstrate cultural sensitivity to create an environment where every employee feels valued and respected. Sensitivity training in the workplace plays a pivotal role in achieving this goal.

Understanding the Landscape:

Cultural sensitivity starts with a deep understanding of the diverse backgrounds that make up your workforce. Leaders should invest time in learning about different cultures, traditions, and customs. This knowledge not only enhances communication but also helps in avoiding unintentional misunderstandings.

Promoting Open Communication:

Creating an open and inclusive atmosphere is essential. Leaders should encourage team members to share their unique perspectives without fear of judgment. This not only fosters creativity but also helps in building a sense of belonging among employees.

Implementing Sensitivity Training:

One effective way to cultivate cultural sensitivity is through sensitivity training in the workplace. By partnering with organizations like CT3 Training, leaders can provide their teams with the tools and knowledge needed to navigate cultural differences successfully. Sensitivity training goes beyond merely acknowledging diversity; it equips employees with the skills to appreciate and celebrate it.

Leading by Example:

Leaders must lead by example. Displaying cultural sensitivity in their own actions sets the tone for the entire organization. This includes respecting cultural holidays, being mindful of language choices, and promoting inclusive practices in day-to-day interactions.

Creating Inclusive Policies:

Inclusivity should not be limited to verbal affirmations. Leaders must actively work towards creating policies that foster a culture of equality. This could involve implementing flexible work hours to accommodate different religious practices or ensuring that promotional opportunities are accessible to everyone, regardless of their background.

Embracing Diversity in Decision-Making:

When making decisions, leaders should strive for diversity in thought and perspective. This not only leads to more well-rounded solutions but also ensures that the needs and concerns of all team members are considered.

Providing Resources for Continuous Learning:

Cultural sensitivity is not a one-time achievement but an ongoing process. Leaders should provide resources for continuous learning, such as workshops, seminars, and online courses. This commitment to ongoing education demonstrates a dedication to fostering a truly inclusive workplace.

In conclusion, creating a culturally sensitive workplace is a multifaceted effort that requires commitment, education, and a genuine desire to understand and embrace differences. Sensitivity training in the workplace, such as the programs offered by CT3 Training, can be a catalyst for positive change. As leaders, it is our responsibility to set the stage for an inclusive and respectful environment where diversity is not just acknowledged but celebrated. By doing so, we not only create a more harmonious workplace but also position our organizations for success in an increasingly globalized world.

[flock-of-cassowaries]

[loveerran]

yesterday, i met a beautiful black woman with beautiful natural hair. she was at work, and i was a customer. her hair looked kind of like this:

our conversation went approximately as follows:

me: “i love your hair!”

her: “really? i normally wear it straight”

me: “straight is definitely also a look, but what you have here is fabulous!”

her: “thank you?! my regional supervisor asked me if i was having a bad hair day”

...

black women are routinely criticized for wearing their incredibly gorgeous hair natural. that is a bad thing. if for any reason you did not know this, please accept this free PSA and forward to your friends (especially if any of them are white male regional supervisors).

[flock-of-cassowaries]

Ideal playlist: Bronski Beat, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and this.

in absolute tears about the pride module at my work

[sassyandclassy94]

Funny how a bad day makes you a whole lot less excited and more hesitant to return to work the next day…

[kiwriteswords]

could you write a hotch x reader story where reader is literally a knockout bombshell and the team meets her for the first time and both are humbled and shocked tht Hotch could pull that. Also maybe she works in different department of the FBI, but not BAU and derek and others have always talked about how hot reader is but happy id they cnt have reaader that hotch can!

The Beauty and The Boss

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: Thanks so much for the request! Sorry, it took me so long to get it written :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Tags/Warnings: Mild language, fade-to-black smut scene, reader wears makeup, workplace flirting, commentary about reader's appearance by BAU, jealous!Hotch, mention of a Holiday party, mentions of a bar scene.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner’s professionalism hides a secret: he’s been in a relationship with you, the stunning agent who turns every head at Quantico. While his team spends months admiring and teasing about you—unaware of the truth—Hotch quietly enjoys keeping the relationship private. But when the BAU holiday party reveals the truth, the team is left shocked, realizing the woman they’ve been swooning over is already spoken for by the man they least expected.

The Quantico breakroom buzzed with life as Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, a grin stretching across his face. “I’m telling you, there’s not a person in this building who doesn’t turn their head when she walks by.”

Emily Prentiss smirked, crossing her arms as she perched on the edge of the counter. “Understatement of the year, Morgan. She’s practically stopped traffic in the hallways more than once.”

Penelope Garcia, seated with her tablet, chimed in. “More like a goddess descended from Mount Olympus, wielding a to-do list and a killer power suit. The woman is unreal.”

You had no idea you were the current topic of conversation as you breezed through Quantico’s corridors. Your heels clicked against the tiled floor with the kind of authority only a seasoned professional carried. Your fitted blazer hugged your form just right, the kind of attire that screamed competence but still left a trail of stunned admirers in your wake. You were a boss, and you knew it—not in an arrogant way, but in the way a woman who worked twice as hard to get half as far in a male-dominated field knew her worth.

Little did they know that, as much as they admired you from afar, you had a certain someone who saw all those layers they missed—someone who knew how you carried the weight of your team, your projects, and your life with equal parts grace and grit.

That someone was Aaron Hotchner.

Unbeknownst to the BAU, the stoic Unit Chief had been keeping a significant secret. You and Aaron had been together for over a year. Though you both worked under the same massive roof, your respective departments didn’t often overlap—an intentional boundary to keep things professional and out of sight from prying eyes.

Aaron entered the room just as Morgan’s laughter rang out. “No, but seriously, Hotch, you’ve seen her, right? You can’t tell me someone that fine doesn’t have half the men here wrapped around her finger.”

Aaron’s sharp gaze flicked to Morgan, his jaw tightening subtly. “Morgan, shouldn’t you be focusing on case files rather than office gossip?”

Morgan raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, man, beauty like that deserves to be appreciated.”

Emily grinned. “Don’t let Strauss hear you. She’d have you running sensitivity training for a month.”

Garcia waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe Hotch is just annoyed because she’s his type. Dark hair, smart, confident—maybe there’s some unspoken pining we don’t know about.”

Aaron’s lips pressed into a firm line as he reached for a file, “Let’s keep the speculation to yourselves. We have enough on our plates without playing matchmaker.” His tone was calm but carried enough weight to signal the end of the conversation.

He didn’t let his composure falter, but inwardly, he found himself caught in a tug-of-war between amusement and annoyance. You were undeniably stunning, and he couldn’t blame his team for noticing, but their casual banter skirted dangerously close to the truth.

Later that afternoon, the sun streamed through the tall windows of the BAU bullpen, casting golden streaks across the room as you entered. Your heels echoed confidently against the polished floor, their rhythmic click commanding attention as you moved with purpose. A fitted pencil skirt emphasized the natural sway of your hips, and your blazer was tailored perfectly, hinting at the strength and grace beneath. Loose curls framed your face, falling just so, and your makeup—subtle but flawless—added to the aura of a woman who meant business.

Conversations quieted as you passed by the desks. Agents glanced up from their work, some stealing longer looks than they should have, while others leaned toward their neighbors to murmur something under their breath. You didn’t acknowledge the attention. You were used to it. Your focus remained locked ahead as you carried the neatly bound folder in your hands, its weight a mere fraction of the responsibility you carried daily.

You reached the door to Aaron Hotchner’s office just as it opened. He stepped out, his posture as straight and commanding as ever, but his sharp eyes softened for the briefest moment when they landed on you. The shift was imperceptible to anyone else, but you caught it—it was the kind of look he reserved only for you.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he greeted evenly, his voice steady but low enough that it felt personal.

“Agent Hotchner,” you replied with a nod, the professionalism in your tone betrayed by the faint twitch of a smile at the corner of your lips.

Behind you, Morgan's voice rose in a stage whisper. “And there she is…”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your expression neutral as you extended the folder to Aaron. “I just need your signature on these budgetary adjustments. It’s time-sensitive.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed slightly as he accepted the folder, his long fingers brushing against yours briefly. “Of course,” he said, already flipping it open to skim through the pages. “Give me a moment.”

As he turned and walked back into his office, you followed without hesitation, pushing the door closed behind you. The muted sound of the latch clicking shut seemed to signal a shift in the atmosphere. The second the door was closed, your composed expression melted into something softer, teasing.

“I heard Morgan,” you said in a low voice, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes. You set a hand on your hip, leaning slightly as you watched him work.

Aaron’s lips curved into a subtle smirk as he scribbled his signature onto the documents. “They talk about you often,” he replied, not looking up right away. “Morgan more than most.”

You tilted your head, your brow arching playfully. “Jealous?”

Finally, he looked up, setting the pen down and stepping closer. “Observant,” he corrected, his tone dry but his gaze warm. He handed the folder back to you, and as his fingers brushed yours again, the slightest spark of electricity passed between you. “You look stunning today, by the way.”

“Today?” you teased, your voice dropping slightly as you tilted your chin. “What about yesterday?”

Aaron’s smirk deepened, the rare expression enough to make your stomach flip. “Every day,” he replied smoothly, his voice dipping into that low, velvety tone that sent a thrill through you. He stepped just close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne—subtle and clean, just like him.

For a moment, the space between you felt charged, but you straightened, breaking the tension with a soft laugh. “Careful, Agent Hotchner,” you said, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Someone might notice.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rare but rich. “Let them speculate.”

The corner of your mouth twitched in amusement, but you turned on your heel, your exit as purposeful as your arrival. Behind you, Aaron watched, his expression softening again as the door clicked shut. The office suddenly felt emptier without you in it, and the faintest hint of a smile lingered on his lips.

Moments after, when you stepped out of Aaron’s office, the door closing softly behind you, you nearly collided with David Rossi. The veteran profiler stepped back gracefully, offering you a warm smile as his eyes flicked to the folder in your hands.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he greeted smoothly, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “You’re lucky Hotch doesn’t have a ‘No Stunning Women’ policy in his office. Makes the rest of us forget what we’re working on.”

You gave a polite laugh, your smile measured but warm. “Always a pleasure, Agent Rossi. Don’t let me distract you too much.” With a nod, you stepped past him and continued down the hall, your heels clicking confidently on the polished floor.

Rossi watched you leave, shaking his head slightly before stepping into Hotch’s office, and shutting the door behind him. “You didn’t tell me your office doubled as a runway, Aaron,” Rossi quipped as he took a seat across from Hotch’s desk, still grinning.

Hotch didn’t look up from the report in front of him. “Rossi.”

“I’m just saying,” Rossi continued, leaning back in his chair. “Agent Y/L/N is quite the… presence. Can’t imagine you get much work done when she’s around.”

Hotch finally glanced up, his sharp eyes locking on Rossi with a calm but pointed look. “She’s one of the most competent agents in this building.”

Rossi raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin still on his face. “No offense, Aaron. I’m just appreciating fine talent when I see it. Professionally, of course.”

Hotch’s expression didn’t shift as he returned to his paperwork. “Make sure it stays professional, Dave.”

Rossi chuckled, standing up and adjusting his suit jacket. “Noted. I’ll leave you to your work, but for the record… you’ve got good taste.”

Hotch’s eyes flicked up for a brief moment, narrowing slightly as Rossi turned to leave. Once the door closed behind him, Aaron exhaled, his jaw relaxing as the corners of his mouth twitched faintly. You had that effect on people. Rossi wasn’t wrong about that, but Aaron wasn’t about to let anyone reduce you to just that. Not on his watch.

It wasn’t much later in the week when the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled the dimly lit bar as the BAU team finally unwound after wrapping a grueling case. At their usual table near the back, JJ, Penelope, and Emily leaned close together, conspiring with mischievous smiles. Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, his beer in hand, as he glanced across the room toward you.

You were with your own team, sitting at the far end of the bar. The laughter coming from your group was infectious, and more than a few heads in the bar had turned to admire the sharp, confident woman at the center of it all. You were a vision, dressed in a fitted, dark emerald blouse that complemented your glowing skin, your hair falling perfectly into place despite the long week.

Emily nudged Derek, her grin widening. “Now’s your chance, Morgan. She’s right there, and she’s smiling. That’s basically an invitation.”

Penelope nodded eagerly, swirling her cocktail. “Seriously, Derek. You’re Mr. Smooth—to make one of your famous sweet moves. She’s gorgeous, brilliant, and, let’s face it, probably way out of your league, but you’ve got charm. Use it!”

JJ smirked, sipping her drink. “They’re not wrong. She’s definitely the type to keep you on your toes.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment. “You ladies make a good point. Pretty boy over here has been staring so hard, I think he forgot how to blink.”

Reid’s head snapped up, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I haven’t been staring—I was observing!”

Penelope laughed, reaching out to pat his arm. “Sure, sweetie. Keep telling yourself that.”

Meanwhile, Aaron Hotchner sat quietly at the edge of the table, nursing his drink and doing his best to keep his expression neutral. He caught Rossi’s amused glance and ignored it, his attention drifting toward you. Across the room, your eyes flicked to his, and in that instant, the noise of the bar seemed to fade. Your lips curved into a soft, knowing smile, and Hotch’s lips twitched in response, his gaze steady but warm.

“Alright,” Derek announced, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “Time to show you all how it’s done.”

As he sauntered toward you, the rest of the team watched with poorly concealed anticipation. Hotch leaned back slightly, a faint smirk playing at his lips as he took another sip of his drink, clearly amused.

At the bar, Derek slid into the seat beside you, his trademark charm on full display. “Well, well, Agent Y/L/N,” he began, flashing you a dazzling smile. “A woman like you at a place like this—it’s like a shooting star landing in a parking lot. Rare. Unexpected. Stunning.”

You turned toward him, your smile warm but professional. “Agent Morgan,” you greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering if I can buy you a drink. You look like someone who deserves only the finest.”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head. “That’s kind of you, but I’m good for now. Thank you, though.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “You sure? A woman like you turning down a Morgan Original? That doesn’t happen often.”

You smiled, leaning in slightly, your voice light but firm. “I’m flattered, Derek, really. But no, thank you.”

Derek blinked, clearly surprised but respectful, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Can’t blame a guy for trying. You have a good night, Agent Y/L/N.”

As he returned to the table, Rossi leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “I think I know why she turned you down.”

Derek arched a brow. “Oh, yeah? Enlighten us, wise old man.”

Rossi swirled his drink lazily. “She’s already seeing someone.”

That caught the team’s attention. JJ frowned thoughtfully. “She doesn’t wear a ring.”

Emily shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything. Rossi’s probably right—someone like her? Definitely taken.”

Penelope gasped. “She’s got to be dating some rich CEO type. Like a Christian Grey situation—minus the creepy stuff. You know, private jets, expensive suits, maybe even his own island.”

Reid tilted his head. “Statistically, high-powered women often prefer partners who are equally accomplished, so it’s not unreasonable to assume…”

Hotch, listening quietly, couldn’t help but chuckle softly under his breath. It was rare for him to indulge in such amusement, but their wild guesses about your personal life were too far from the truth to resist.

“Something funny, Hotch?” Derek asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Hotch met his gaze evenly, his lips twitching. “Just enjoying the show, Morgan.”

From across the room, you glanced at him again, your eyes meeting his with a spark of shared amusement. You knew, just as he did that the truth was far more satisfying than any of their guesses.

That night, the familiar warmth of your shared apartment enveloped you as you stepped out of the bathroom, your hair still damp from the shower. The soft glow of the bedside lamp lit the room in hues of gold, casting a gentle light over Aaron as he stood at the dresser, folding his tie with precision. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms, and his expression was calm, though you could tell from the faint tension in his jaw that something was on his mind.

There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved—calm, methodical, and yet there was an intimacy in the gesture that always left your heart fluttering.

You crossed the room, barefoot, wearing one of his old FBI academy T-shirts that hung just above your thighs. It was soft and familiar, smelling faintly of him, and you loved how it made you feel wrapped in his presence.

As you climbed into bed, you leaned back against the headboard, watching him with a small smile. “You’re quiet tonight,” you teased, running a hand through your damp hair. “That’s usually my thing.”

Aaron glanced at you, his lips quirking slightly before he shook his head and continued folding. “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

He sighed, placing the tie in the drawer before turning to face you, his arms crossing over his chest. “My team.”

You raised a brow, leaning forward slightly. “Oh? What did the BAU do this time?”

Aaron smirked faintly, shaking his head as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his watch. “It’s not what they’ve done. It’s what they keep saying.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity piqued. “Do tell.”

He exhaled, his voice even but carrying a hint of frustration. “They don’t stop talking about you. Derek, Emily, Penelope… even Reid, apparently. It’s constant.” He turned to look at you, his dark eyes warm but serious. “I’ve been patient. I’ve let it slide because they don’t know. But I think I’ve hit my limit.”

A slow smile spread across your face as you scooted closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’re jealous,” you teased, your voice light and laced with amusement. “Aaron Hotchner, stoic leader of the BAU, is jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he replied firmly, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him. “I just don’t appreciate them… ogling you.”

You chuckled softly, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin against his shoulder. “You know I think it’s kind of hot when you’re jealous, right?”

He turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression softening. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you said with a grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you care so much. But you don’t have to worry, Aaron. I’m yours. Completely.”

He turned fully now, his hands coming up to rest on your knees as he looked at you with a rare softness in his eyes. “You have no idea how much I appreciate hearing that.”

You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Good. Because it’s true.”

He kissed you back gently, one hand sliding up to cradle your cheek. When you pulled away, you saw the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Aaron lingered close for a moment, his thumb brushing your cheek in a rare display of vulnerability before he exhaled softly and pulled back. Standing, he moved toward the dresser with the same calm, deliberate manner that always captivated you.

His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, working them loose one by one. The sound of each button sliding free seemed amplified in the quiet of your shared space. You couldn’t help but admire the way the soft light played over his features—his strong jaw, the tension in his shoulders, and the faint lines around his eyes that only made him more striking.

Aaron shrugged off his shirt, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and the scar along his side that you knew he sometimes still tried to hide. He folded the shirt with the same precision as his tie, setting it neatly aside before slipping out of his slacks and into the lounge pants he favored at night.

“Don’t stop on my account,” you teased, your voice warm and playful as your eyes lingered on him.

He glanced back at you with a small, knowing smile. “Enjoying the show?”

You grinned. “Always.”

Aaron shook his head slightly, his smirk growing as he crossed the room and slid into bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and the familiar warmth of his body radiated toward you as he leaned back against the pillows, one arm sliding around your waist to pull you close.

“You really don’t have to worry about what your team says,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest. “I only have eyes for you.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gently tilting your face toward his. “You’re sure about that?” he asked softly, though the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes betrayed the question’s seriousness.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one who gets this version of me. The rest of them don’t even come close.”

Aaron deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that still sent your heart racing. His hand slid down to your hip, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair, and for a moment, the world outside your shared room ceased to exist.

The soft rustle of sheets and the low hum of your shared laughter filled the space as your words became unspoken reassurances, translated into the way he touched you, the way he held you, the way he kissed you as though you were his lifeline.

In the darkness, as the lamp flicked off and the night stretched on, you made it perfectly clear—he was yours, and you were his, completely. Always.

The annual Bureau holiday party arrived soon after and was in full swing, the large event hall buzzing with laughter and conversation as agents and staff mingled under the soft glow of festive string lights. Tables lined with food and drinks flanked the room, and a DJ played a mix of holiday classics and upbeat pop songs. The BAU team had claimed a table near the center, already deep into their drinks and holiday banter.

Derek leaned back in his chair, scanning the room with an easy grin. “Alright, I’m calling it now. This year’s party MVP? Gotta be me. I’ve got the charm, the moves, and the mistletoe strategy ready to go.”

Emily rolled her eyes, sipping her drink. “Your confidence is astounding. Let’s see how it plays out when someone turns you down again.”

Penelope chuckled, adjusting the festive reindeer antlers perched on her head. “Maybe don’t aim for anyone who’s already out of your league, like a certain Agent Y/L/N.”

“They’re never letting that one down,” Reid laughed. 

Derek smirked. “She’s not here yet, but hey, holiday parties are all about surprises. Maybe she’ll get a look and change her mind?”

JJ raised a brow. “Speaking of surprises… does anyone else feel like Hotch is acting weird lately? He’s been way too quiet during our usual teasing.” Will was at her side, with an arm wrapped over her shoulders. 

Rossi, swirling his glass of whiskey, gave a knowing smirk but said nothing.

The conversation halted abruptly as the door to the hall opened, and heads turned to see Aaron Hotchner entering with you at his side.

The two of you stepped into the room, hand in hand, your fingers loosely intertwined as Aaron scanned the crowd with his usual composed demeanor. You looked radiant in a fitted emerald dress, its sleek design effortlessly elegant, while Aaron’s sharp black suit was understated yet commanding.

The BAU table fell silent, their jaws collectively dropping.

“Is that…?” Penelope started, blinking rapidly.

“Hotch,” JJ finished, her voice barely above a whisper. Will let out a breathy laugh. 

“And Agent Y/L/N,” Emily added, looking between the two of you as if she’d seen a ghost.

Morgan leaned forward, his grin faltering. “No way.”

Hotch’s lips twitched into the faintest smile as he caught their stunned expressions. He led you toward the table with a calm confidence, his hand still firmly in yours.

“Evening, everyone,” he greeted, his tone as steady as ever.

You smiled warmly, giving a little wave with your free hand. “Hi, guys. Hope we’re not late.”

The team exchanged glances, still struggling to process what they were seeing.

Derek was the first to recover, though his grin was more sheepish than his usual swagger. “Well, damn. Hotch, you really know how to keep a secret.”

Hotch arched a brow, his hand resting protectively on your back as he pulled out a chair for you. “It’s never been a secret. Some things are worth keeping private.”

Emily leaned closer to Penelope, muttering, “Okay, I officially feel bad for every single comment I’ve ever made about her in front of him.”

Penelope nodded vigorously. “Same. Oh my gosh, same.”

JJ shook her head, laughing softly. “And Derek, all the flirting?”

Morgan held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know! But I’ll admit when I’m beat. Respect, Hotch. You’re a lucky man.”

Hotch’s expression softened slightly as he glanced at you. “I know.”

Rossi, still sipping his drink, chuckled. “For the record, I knew when to quit. The first time I made a comment about her, the look Hotch gave me said everything I needed to know.”

You raised a brow, your lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh? And what look was that?”

Rossi smirked. “The one that says, ‘Say one more word, and you’re not making it to retirement.’”

“Back into retirement,” Hotch corrected with an amused look. The table erupted into laughter.

Emily leaned forward, her curiosity winning out. “Alright, spill. How long has this been going on?”

You exchanged a glance with Aaron, his hand still resting lightly on your back.

“A little over a year,” you admitted, and Hotch nodded. 

“A year?” Penelope gasped. “And you managed to keep it quiet this long? I’m impressed.”

Hotch’s gaze swept over his team, his voice calm but with a subtle warmth. “We wanted to keep things professional. But we both agreed it was time.” A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes as he added, “Especially before one of you asked her out on a date next.”

The team erupted into laughter, though Derek groaned, throwing his head back. “Aw, come on, Hotch! You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”

Emily smirked, leaning back in her chair. “You really did shoot your shot, Morgan. Respect for the boldness, but hindsight? Not your best moment.”

Penelope covered her mouth with her hand, barely containing her giggles. “I’m never going to stop picturing Hotch sitting back in his office, watching that go down and just... waiting.”

JJ joined in, shaking her head with a grin. “Honestly, Derek, if looks could kill…”

Derek held up his hands in surrender, chuckling despite himself. “Alright, alright! I didn’t know, okay? And for the record, I was nothing but a gentleman.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand as you smiled at him. “You were, Derek. I thought it was sweet.”

“Sweet?” Hotch interjected, his tone laced with playful sarcasm as he glanced at you. “I’d call it… bold.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow, your smile widening. “Aaron.”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk as he looked back at the table. “But in all seriousness, I can’t blame anyone for noticing how incredible she is. I just happen to be the lucky one.”

The table quieted for a moment, the sincerity in his tone catching everyone off guard. Emily was the first to break the silence, raising her glass with a grin. “Well, here’s to the two of you. A BAU power couple if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Cheers to that,” Penelope chimed in, her eyes sparkling.

As the team raised their glasses once more, you glanced at Aaron, your fingers brushing his under the table. His quiet smile and the gentle squeeze of your hand told you everything you needed to know. You were his, and he was yours, and no amount of teasing or surprise from his team could change that.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[miejcowydebil]

rlain's first chapter is so funny T__T

somebody give bridge four a workplace sensitivity training this second cause my man is experiencing 2137 microaggressions a day

[lintwriting]

I was here when mouthwashing was just a demo. here are some things I noticed.

I caught on to the fact that Curly was likely innocent and that Jimmy was an unreliable narrator based on the "Take Responsibility" word scramble and Jimmy's asshole behavior. Because of this, I also did not think there would be supernatural horror, I thought it’d be man-made and psychological, which I was right about.

What I did not expect was the subtle depiction of how workplaces fail victims of rape and misogyny.

What I did not expect was how backgrounded the late stage capitalism critique ended up being.

late stage capitalism: a red herring

From the Demo, you focus a lot on the corporation as the main antagonist, probably because Wrong Organ devs were hiding the villain protagonists.

Ominous posters, a Polle monster chasing you, those ominous TV commercials glorifying working for a corporation, the fact that all this horror was over fucking tooth-rotting mouthwash. Really paints the picture of a corporate horror or conspiracy a la “Time to Orbit: Unknown,” where every chapter unveils a new corporate conspiracy for money and power.

but instead, in mouthwashing, the capitalist aspects are merely plot devices to explore the horror surrounding mismanagement and its consequences.

A power tripping coworker and an enabling manager who got him the job. An eager-to-please kid and an established supervisor willing to take advantage. Flaws in how the hierarchy is decided, leading to the one person who shouldn’t have had power getting the power. Lack of sensitivity training (or whatever that’s called) surrounding things like Title IX concerns, such as the uneven gender dynamics or what to do in the event of a crime or the fact that the person doing the psych evals isn’t getting any evals.

Notice that none of these things are unique to capitalism, they’re issues you’d have to plan for in any workplace/organization, whether that be socialist or capitalist or whatever. The capitalism exacerbates the issues or catalyzes the consequences of them like a plot device, but the issues don’t originate from there.

For example: the lack of any woman other than Anya.

Yes, this was most likely exacerbated by late stage capitalism understaffing to cut corners, leading to skeleton crews, but that the crew we DO have is mostly male is more related to misogyny or gender roles.

Perhaps women don't want to work on these freighters because of the danger of being trapped in a confined space with men. Maybe the jobs required for these freighters, like mechanic or pilot, are male-dominated. Or maybe the hiring manager had a bias where they viewed men as more competent, etc. The fact of the matter is that the cause is the same when you dig down deep into it: misogyny.

Or the layoff. The laying off of the crew is its own form of evil, but its consequences aren’t the ones being explored within this story. Most of the crew die of the horrors within the ship before they ever have to face it. In fact, the horrors within the ship don't really even have anything to do with the layoff at all. It’s a bit of a red herring.

Rather, the actual cause of this game’s horror is the mismanaged fallout of Jimmy’s assault. Most obviously in that scene where we see Curly for the first time, wherein Curly doesn’t take Anya’s safety concerns seriously, even when Jimmy is actively threatening to make everyone disappear so neither of them have to face the consequences of the assault.

I initially misread that scene as Curly evilly conspiring to let Jimmy crash the ship so neither of them would take the fall, hence us finally seeing Curly's “true face.” Because I read what Jimmy said as inherently threatening and serious, I thought Curly had agreed to that awful plan and only got cold feet at the last minute.

It’s only from reading other comments that I realized Curly had most likely assumed Jimmy was blowing hot air and needed to cool down in that scene. Or that he was making an inappropriate joke akin to his 'sexually attracted to cartoon horses' thing and wasn't being serious. Curly didn’t realize Jimmy was actually talking about a real plan until it was too late stop it (makes me wonder if Jimmy was actually attracted to the horse, too).

Thus, it goes from a story about corner-cutting late stage capitalist megacorps to a story about cartoonishly evil, power-tripping men to a story about how we enable these men with failures in our system.

Much like how the beginning of the game, when Jimmy crashes the ship, a failure in the safety systems is what allows the crash to happen (Seriously? One pilfered key is all you need to send your ship into a crash?), a series of social safety nets had to have failed to let him into the cockpit in the first place. The true face is not Curly conspiring to crash the ship out of cowardice and greed, but his inability to face what his friend has done.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Anakin flirting with m reader and ending making out? Pls

Anakin Skywalker x Male reader

Headcanons

You are a non-jedi general during the Clone wars, cuz yall lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship.

This turned out a lot sweeter than i had planned ngl.

You were a general during the clone wars. You weren’t anything special, you couldn’t use the force, you weren’t from some rich or special background, your name didn’t carry any weight. The only gift you seemed to have, was your inability to be affected by the force. All in all, you weren’t anything to write home about.

Of course, that’s also what made you so damn useful in your role. No one kept an eye on you, everyone underestimated you, you could get away with so much because to most people in charge, you didn’t exist. You not being able to be manipulated by the force, also made you extremely skilled in what you did, without anyone seeming to notice.

Your feat of climbing the military ranks in leaps and bounds only got you mild acknowledgments, and a handful of attempted manipulations from some people in power. But when they realized you didn’t bend, but you weren’t important enough to get rid of, they left you alone.

At 22 you had reached the rank of senior general in the republic army, placing you above even a good chunk of the jedi you fought against, which was also why you had been placed with the 501st, to apparently teach their general the basics.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had both been unsettled by the fact that they couldn’t sense you in the force the first time you met. Every being, even the nonliving, had a presence. But you didn’t. it was like you didn’t exist.

That took quite some time to get used too, especially to someone as force sensitive as Anakin. But over time you two started getting along, and though it took him some time and a lot of grumbling, Anakin did learn quite a lot from you.

The flirting had been subtle in the beginning, or as subtle as Anakin could be. From getting your help on reports and readings he just “couldn’t understand”, to getting you to help him stretch after he had spent hours going through his katas.

You weren’t oblivious, you couldn’t be with the life you lived, so of course you noticed his attempts at flirting. It was endearing in a way. To see someone who was supposed to have no connection to people like that, seem so drawn to you.

It also left you feeling uneasy in a way, as you had never really had much time to relationships or even flirting for that matter, having spent all these years making something of yourself.

Alongside the flirting you two became good friends, and you had even signed yourself up to stay with his platoon, even when your training was done. This was also where you learned he had had a thing with Padme, but they realized they were better as friends a while ago.

When you shared your own lack of experience, it seemed to boost some of Anakin’s confidence, seeing as you both were on new ground. And like with anything else, he took to it with gusto.

The fact that you never turned him down or rejected him, sometimes even laughing and playing along, only made Anakin try even harder. It was cute, to see him trying his best to woo you in a subtle and less noticeable way, seeing as he was still a jedi and it wasn’t actually allowed.

The 501st knew though. Of course they knew, and when Ahsoka came around she figured it out very fast, and she most likely took up the role as hype man and background support.

Your flirting became part of your dynamic, it was just something that you two did, which to outsiders was just seen as banter to keep the spirits up.

It also didn’t go past flirting for a long time, seeing as you guys were always surrounded by people. And being besides Anakin didn’t let you slip into the shadows like you were used too, since he would glow so brightly.

The need for privacy was what had you two slinking off to the side during one of the nights in camp, the platoon having settled down on a planet and waiting for their next orders. Anakin and you had decided to wander off, settling somewhere nearby, but far enough away to get some time alone together.

There might also have been a bottle of alcohol in your coat. It was nowhere near enough to get either of you drunk, especially with the force helping clear it out of Anakin’s system quicker than average folk. But it was enough to loosen up and get comfortable.

Your normal banter of flirting was constant, but as the buzz settled it became something softer and somehow hotter, the feelings growing thick in the air and noticeable enough that even you, who was as force sensitive as a rock if not lesser, could sense it.

Anakin must have made some corny pass at you, that cocky grin on his lips and his hair brushed back and out of his face, letting you truly see his handsome features. Something came over you, later you would blame the force, but it just felt right.

Leaning in and closing the gap between you seemed to have shocked Anakin, his eyes wide before he seemingly melted against you, arms wrapping around your neck and torso and pulling you even closer.

The kiss was far from the most skilled or pleasant, but your shared lack of experience was fully made up for by enthusiasm.

Anakin would pant and grunt as the kiss turned steamier, lips parting and tongues rubbing together, spit gathering at the edges of your mouths and a line of drool running down his chin. His eyes were shut tightly in concentration, his brows furrowed and hands grasping as your coat.

You had no idea how long you two were laying there, kissing like two lovesick fools from some romance novel. Hands were grasping and exploring, but never going further than that. Now wasn’t the time to go any wilder than what you were doing, but the possibility of it was enough to make the kiss even better.

When you pulled away, Anakin leaned after you with a soft noise, bottom lip pouting out and red from the insistent kissing, his eyes cracking open to look at you with the softest look you had ever seen from him.

“Not all of us can hold our breath for hours” you snarked with a soft chuckle, since you knew he could, thanks to the force. Your jedi grumbled, but tucked his head under your chin, still clutching you close and brushing his lips against your neck.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just holding onto each other. You found yourself brushing your fingers through his hair, Anakin almost arching into the touch like an affection starved tooka, a sight that only made you smile more.

“I like you a lot” he mumbled, glancing up at you through his lashes with that insistent determined, but somehow still soft and warm look in his eyes. Just seeing him like that made you wanna kiss him again, to devour him whole.

“I think I like you too” you replied, an upwards tick to your lips as you pulled him close again. Even without the ability to feel the force, you could still feel it flare, like the sun rising in the morning. It would be no surprise if Ahsoka knew exactly what had happened, and the padawan would be confronting you guys about it later.

But right now all that mattered was laying there with Anakin, and maybe stealing a couple more of those deep insistent and longing kisses, since he sounded so pretty when you did. You guys could deal with everything else later.

[b1asho]

A progressive male Rossetian wearing a pouch to carry his kids! While Rossetians legally have gender equality in the workplace and politics etc, they still have similar cultural stereotypes for their version of man and woman as humans do, and those values say that it should be a "woman" in this role. Same old same old, though their woman version isn't necessarily a homemaker. They're both expected to be out there as the providers, and whenever they're at home teach their respective/gendered values (thus, married couples get synced work weeks by law for proper child rearing until a certain age) (public education is only something they send their kids to for job training, everything else is homeschooling in this way either by the parents or qualified siblings in the house.) Anyway

a "man" carrying children of this age in such a way is seen as feminine, much more so than it would be in humans because it's coded heavily with their biology (to their conservative circles, this is low key drag?? since they’re wearing a replica of a female physical trait and using it in a woman-like way. Actual cross dressing/ drag for a rossetian man would involve a lot more horn covering, exaggerated pouch stuff, and dresses idk).

Rossetian tongues are highly sensitive and are used not only to smell but also to pick up on other chemical signals, like whether or not a root vegetable is good to buy. Very important for survival.

[tiredbitchposts]

Scum villain au where the story is told through multiple HR sensitivity training sessions and written workplace complaints

[wafflesrisa]

Remember: genuine respectful curiosity is always better than fearful ignorance

I attended a workplace culture and inclusivity training today in which the presenter said with his whole chest that to avoid conflict it may be better to avoid talking about any “sensitive” topics at work like politics, religion etc.

This is absolute bullshit. The only way to understand different people is to share and get curious and find connection. You cannot promote inclusivity by living in a culture of fear where you’re afraid asking a question about something you don’t understand will get you in trouble.

All that creates is an echo chamber where you can only talk about “safe” topics, which are invariably ideas shared by the dominant population in that circle.

This applies in every circle - liberals, conservatives, at work, with friends, in society.

So get curious!! And respond to curiosity with kindness and respect rather than judge them for ignorance!!

[chasolov]

Headcanons

Ratchet:

- Soft, smooth hair

- Sleeps in snippets from 20 minutes to 3 hours. Sleep is very sensitive.

- Perpetually cold hands and is often cold himself

- Perfectionist. The workplace is in perfect order, but as long as he doesn't get too carried away with his work.

- Trains and knows how to fight with blades, as he learned to do so with Optimus.

- On Cybertron he started wearing crocs as work shoes only because Bumblebee gave him a bee to decorate them, thinking the doctor had them.

- Height - 1.82m

Wheeljack

- His nose used to be straight, but it's been broken, and more than once. He snores for the same reason.

- His hair is often burned, making it stiff and unruly.

- Because of his love of explosions, he is partially deaf in his left ear.

- He doesn't sleep soundly, but if he's tired, not even a tank can wake him up.

- Despite his sturdy build, his flexibility is enviable.

- He's 1.71 m

[canadianlucifer]

Oh my god I just realized.

After ghoul legalization, humans would have to go through workplace sensitivity training, wouldn't they?

"Do not ask your coworker what they eat or how they get it. That is their business, not yours." "It is considered rude to ask your coworker what type of kagune they have." "Do not assume your coworker kills or has killed in the past. Many ghouls have survived without needing to harm others and it is rude to assume otherwise."

[bump1nthen1ght]

The Prince of Hell is Not a Gentleman (F!Reader x M!Demon)

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Male!Boss!Demon

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Non-Con, Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Infidelity, Abuse of Power and Work Dynamics, Degradation, Misogyny

Word count:  2815 words

Summary: You’ve tried your best to ignore the ridiculously inappropriate behavior of your boss, desperate to keep your job and knowing a filed complaint will get you nowhere. But one fateful meeting pushes your relationship to a whole new level

Request: I got a request!

Female human coworker with a scummy male demon boss. When I mean scummy I mean a proper PoS. Coercing her into sex when she is already with someone, smoking cigars and blowing it in her face, and making her call her partner while he is fucking her.

Isn’t workplace sexual harassment supposed to be subtle?

You think to yourself, simultaneously wondering how the fuck you got in the position to be thinking such a thing in the first place.

You’ve been to HR training, seen those types of creepy bosses. The ones who hide behind being overly “friendly” and saying “everyone’s so sensitive these days.” You’d known to report them, to not stand for their gaslighting. 

But nothing really prepared you for this.

Sugartits, in my office ASAP. 

The crude sticky note stuck to your computer monitor reads, sending your heart all the way into your gut.

You’ve only been at this job for two months, settling in nicely to the routine and your fat paycheck every two weeks. The only issue so far has been your boss.

The demon himself is named Solvaloth, AKA Sol, and is the supervisor for your entire department. He’s a high prince of hell that no one felt like dealing with down there, so was kicked upwards and saddled with a cushy position in this hell-associated company. He’s big, loud, and frustratingly handsome. The kind of handsome that has treated him well his entire life and in turn convinced him that he’s Lucifer’s favorite creation.

You’re the only human in this whole department and that novelty probably drew him your way in the first place. He quite literally cornered you on your first day, his clawed hands pressed against the wall behind you, a leering smile full of canines looking down at his new toy.

“Damn, it must be my lucky day.”

Since then, he has been the bane of your very existence. Grabbing your hips when he ever needs to “scoot” by, whispering dirty compliments in your ear, even looking down your blouse whenever he “pops” by your cubicle. Not to mention the patronizing nicknames.

“File these papers for me, won’t you sweet cheeks?”

“Looking good today, princess.”

“C’mon baby girl, give me a break here.”

Guess you can add Sugartits to the list.

You try not groan audibly as you trudge your way to his office. Knowing that no matter what he does, how inappropriate he is, HR will do nothing. 

(You would know, you tried. The message of “don’t bring this up again” was made very clear.)

His door is stupid tall, meant to accommodate his giant size and extra large horns. You open it as slow as possible, trying your best to delay this ‘meeting.’

“You know how to keep a demon waiting, honey.” Sol turns around in his opulent office chair, legs spread wide and head thrown back without a care. His hair hangs loose and wild behind him, a white mane tucked in between two curving horns. Despite the snarky tone, he’s got a sickeningly sweet grin on his face. “Lock the door, please. We’re gonna need privacy.”

Ugh, I cannot deal with this today.

But you comply, flipping the lock. You don’t notice the way his curtains have been drawn, or how everyone else has been encouraged to go on a long lunch. 

“Is everything okay?”

Sol leans forward, that smug grin still on his face. He puts a hand up to his ear, batting his eyes in a cartoonish display of “what was that?”

You sigh.

“Is everything okay, sir?”

“That's my girl.” Sol laughs, slapping his knee and gesturing for you to sit down.

You pull back your chair, keeping your ankles crossed. You curse yourself for wearing a pencil skirt today, chiding morning-you for forgetting where you work. Sol’s eyes burn as they roll up your pantyhose, not even trying to hide his leering.

“Actually, everything’s not okay.”

That has you sitting up, a seed of worry in your gut. As much as he sucks, this job pays really fucking well, and you can’t risk loosing it.

“You see, I overhead Mazey in accounting gossiping over the water cooler. Said something about how the human has a new boy-toy.” Sol crosses his arms across the table, making his large chest seem even bigger.“That true?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he called you in for that.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business, but yes. I am seeing someone.”

A nice human guy you met at a bookstore, named Rich. He was cute, with fluffy hair and a sweet smile. You had only been on a couple dates, nothing exclusive yet, but you saw a potential future with him.

Sol clicks his teeths, his eyebrows furrowing as that smug grin drops down to a disappointed pout. 

“That’s gonna be a little problem, because last I checked-” Sol gestures back and forth between you two, “-I’m your boss.”

You raise a brow. “So?”

“As your boss, I kind of get final say in everything. I mean, everything.” Sol leans even farther forward, gut pressed into his desk. He’s so close you can feel his breath, see the way his hair falls from behind his pointed ears. “That includes who you spread those little legs for, capische?”

A hot blush runs up your neck, a combination of shock and anger shot through you like adrenaline. 

You had kept a stiff upper lip for most of his shenanigans, for his stupid ego and this job, but this? This was crossing a line.

“That is not-”

“You want to keep your job?”

In just a sentence he steals the thunder out of your voice, a vice grip clutching around 

your heart.

“You wouldn’t.”

Sol shrugs, eyes rolling.

“Why not? Can’t have a little slut like you distracted all day, thinking about some human.”

He says the word like a curse, practically spitting it.

“This, this isn’t-” Your lost momentum has you floundering, trying to find ground to stand on. But you’re trapped; You know it, and he knows it.

You take a deep breath, trying to reel in the desire to leap across the desk and strangle him.

“What do you want.” You state, not ask.

His lips curl up, his devilish nature on full display.

“I want you to do what you were always meant to do.” Sol leans back, tapping his chin. “You’re gonna plant that pretty pussy on my face, and let me show you a good time.”

Your ears feel hot, tears bubbling at the corner of your eyes. There's a distinct taste of shame in your mouth. 

But you can’t lose this job. Can’t be blacklisted in the industry, which this spiteful bastard probably would do to get back at you.

So you sit up, kick off your heels, and ignore the way Sol licks his lips.

Your thumbs go down under the waistband of your skirt, before Sol stops you.

“No, keep it on.”

You stop, wondering what his plan is, and tepidly walk towards him.

Sol’s eyes elevate up and down, switching the knob on his chair to recline slightly. He pats his chin again, a long tongue poking out between his teeth.

“That’s right, baby. Come to papa.”

You hate the way the curdles your stomach, the way your legs begin to shake.

Just to be an asshole, Sol does nothing to help you climb up his chest. He sits with his arms crossed behind his head, smug as you struggle up his body.

Your skirt begins to naturally hike up as you shimmy, almost to your underwear by the time your legs are around Sol’s shoulders. You have to lean your hands in the walk behind his head to stay stable, a deliberate placement that forces your crotch right in his face.

With your legs slotted around his neck Sol's hands find their place in your ass, yanking you forward and taking a deep whiff of your pussy. A wet tongue follows it soon after, soaking the thin fabric and rubbing dangerously against your clit. You bite your lip, feeling the skin almost burst under teeth and pressure. He’s already humiliated you enough, Sol is not getting noises out of you.

Sol is ravenous, his sharp canines deftly tearing apart the fabric of your tights and panties, just missing the fat of your thighs on their way in. He has no patience once he reaches his prize, thick tongue shoved in with little preparation. Your hands scratch at the cheap company paint of the wall behind you, still refusing to let a peep out. Even as your body betrays your mind and your pussy begins to slicken.

Your eyes can’t help but wander downward, a jolt shooting up your spine when you realize Sol is looking directly at you. His nostrils flare as your eyes meet, his tongue curling and stretching open your walls. He must see the way your brow scrunches, how flushed your face is getting. There's a look of pride in his eyes that makes you burn.

Sol nuzzles his nose, digging his tongue deeper inside and you hate the way it rubs against your clit and makes your toes curl. It sucks how good he is at this, how your legs are beginning to tremble not from fear but from pressure. You’ve been able to stay quiet so far, but the moans are fighting towards the surface with every sultry lick.

You know you’re in trouble when one of his hands sneaks from your ass and over your thigh, Sol’s thumb coming to rub and flick at your clit. A moan crawls up your throat and you try to choke it down with another bite of your lip. But your legs clench around Sol’s head, your hips chasing the friction as he pulls you taught like a bow string.

Damnit, it had given you a sort of satisfaction to assume he was one of those guys who was all talk, no action. A dirty mouth that probably never went down, never brought his partners pleasure. This is just another slap in the face.

“Hmmph!” Your hand throws across your mouth, hunching forward as Sol finds that sensitive spot inside. Electricity shocks across your abdomen.

Please, no.

Sol is relentless in his chases, spurred on by your noise and fucks his tongue like a piston against your g-spot.

Too good, too good. I’m gonna-

“Angh~!” Your back arches, breath finally escaping as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You refuse to look down, refuse to see the satisfied look on the bastards face.

But you never get a chance, as Sol hooks his strong arms around your legs and picks you up like a ragdoll. With a surprising gentleness he is able to sling you down his abdomen, turn you around to your stomach and pinned to his desk. Your skirt stays bunched around your hips, the slutty hole in your stockings ripped wider by fervent claws.

“Hey, kitty kitty~” Sol coos, fingers spreading your pussy’s lips wide open for him. “I knew you’ve a nice cunt, baby. Knew it right when I saw you.” Sol slaps your pussy, chuckling when you flinch. “Perfect for daddy.”

A hot head presses against your entrance and you know immediately that he is too big for you.

And he has a big dick?! What the fuck?!

“Wait, Sol-”

“Waited long enough, sugar tits.” The head presses deeper, the stretch cutting any words right out of your mouth. “Let’s fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Sol plunges in, aided by your slick and a fresh glob of spit. The dam being broken, your humiliation at its peak, you don’t try to hide your gasping breathes.

“Fuck!” Your shout, hips traitorously swinging backwards, urging him deeper into your guts. There's a deep groan from Sol’s chest and the scratching of hardwood. A glance to your side sees his claws have dug lines into his fine desk.

“S-shit. You’re fucking tight.” Sol gives an experimental thrust, the desk and bouncing forward. “That little boy toy of yours must have a pencil dick or something.” A large hand grabs your jaw, forcing your back to arch as he pulls you back to him. “Or has he not fucked you yet?”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Sol clicks his teeth.

“Whelp, I guess we’ll have to ask him.”

That jolts you awake, eyes widening as you realize Sol’s slipped your phone out of your skirt's pocket. The home screen is in front of you, your face unlocking it with ease. That fight instinct comes back and you begin squirming.

“Ah, ah.” Sol needs only one hand to pin you down, back on your stomach now that he’s on your phone. “What’d Mazey say his name was, Richie?” Sol casually scrolls through your contacts, humming as he spots Rich’s contact, with an emoji heart next to it. “There he is. Let’s give him a call, clear this up.”

You squeak in exertion, trying your damnedest to wiggle away and escape. But Sol’s grip is like iron, and Rich answers on the second ring.

“Hey there, what’s up?” 

Sol leans down to look at you, tapping the speaker option, and makes a motion for you to talk.

“N-nothing much. Just-” Sol gives another hump, the desk legs squeaking against the linoleum. “-just thinking about you.”

You hate how Rich’s ‘aww’ is tainted by Sol, tainted by the noise of his hips slamming against your backside. You pray Rich’s phone has shitty audio, that he’s totally oblivious today. That he overhears the slapping of skin and the shaking of the desk to be some weird aspect of your demon company, and not what it really is.

“Thinking about you a lot too.” Richie says, and you try to dim the breathy moan that gets through. Sol’s nails dig into your hips, yanking you like a fleshlight. “Wanna meet up this weekend?” Sol slams a hand down, clawing a NO into the hardwood. Rich tone switches to concern. “Woah, what was that?”

“S-sorry, dropped a stapler, heh.” You throw your head down, chest heaving as another knot pulls in your stomach. Your words are beginning to feel foggy, your brain fuzzy as Sol finds your g-spot and starts brutalizing it with his cock. “Can’t this weekend unfortunately. Got some extra w-work to do.”

“Damn, wish I could help.”

Sol barely muffles his chuckles, patting your ass as he leans forward, whispering filth in your ear.

“Cum around my cock, baby~ I know you want to.”

You shake your head, tears dripping down your cheeks as you nuzzle your face into the desk. Sol laughs into your neck, his cock twitching at your frustration.

“Well, I gotta get back to w-work. Just wanted to-” You suck in a deep breath. “-hear your voice.”

“I love hearing your voice too, babe.”

Your heart aches at the sincerity in his tongue, imagining his sweet face. Wishing it was him behind you right now, making you feel this good.

“Ok, see you later.” Your voice whines as a shaky hand taps the phone to off, making sure you’ve hung up before collapsing back into the desk.

Sol cackles behind you, hips swiveling.

“Sounds like a fucking loser. I guess I was right.” Sol’s tongue licks up the side of your cheek. “If he had fucked you, he wouldn’t be calling you ‘babe’.” Sol pitched his voice up high, mockingly, before pulling back his teeth in a snarl. “He’d be calling you whore.”

Sol yanks on your hair, baring your neck and sucking huge hickies right below your jaw. His hips begin to stutter, the balls slapping against your clit feeling tight as he exhales through his nose.

“Please…not inside.”

“I know you’re on birth control, bitch. I do what I want.”

Sol detached with wet lips from your neck, hand now on the back of your skull and forcing you down to the cool desk surface. Your breath leaves a foggy trail in its wake, your eyes rolling back as Sol reaches a peak in his intensity.

“Fuck, fuck!” Sol cries, claws digging lines into your skin as he begins to jerk and twitch. Soon after you feel a heavy warmth shoot deep inside of you, rivulets of cum dripping out between your two bodies and on to the desk.

There's a distinct feeling of emptiness in your gut when Sol pulls out, even with the sticky strings of semen stuck in between you. A thick finger pushes back in any lealing cum, Sol’s cooing voice admiring your fucked out pussy.

You can hardly think, your brain caught in a self-defensive haze as you just try to catch your breath. If you think you’ll hear Rich’s voice, have to feel the intense shame burning inside your chest, feel the red hot anger that you’re too tired to act on.

A warm hand caresses your face, pushing messy hair out of the way. Somewhere distant, Sol chuckles. “Yeah, just like I thought.” You hear the brief click of a camera. “Such a perfect cock-slut, all for me.”

[dirtybg3confessions]

Confession: I want to put Raphael in heavy barbie-pink restraints complete with a horse-bit and spreader bar and make him watch some kind of workplace sensitivity training or a nice tail of charity and kindness. That pathetic little bastard. He must suffer