#knowing that i am late anyway it makes me feel somewhat more relaxed on working on this one 🥲🙃

[araiz-zaria]

[dojae-huh]

Hi Huh-Nim!!!

It's been so long since I have written on here, but I have finally had a time to breathe just for a moment. I feel you on with lots of change happening right now. I am working two jobs and in school full time, but I know it is worth it now and a valuable lesson on how I can manage this hectic lifestyle, (positive thinking lol).

Anyway, I just wanted to say I have become more of a silent reader as of late, but it's still fun to read your post on JaeDo/DoJae and NCT. As for Doyoung and Jaehyun's relationship is like a boost to my mood when I am feeling stress, so with lots of their interactions going on it makes me really happy and it truly destresses me. I can just imagine how they must feel with not hiding as much lately. It probably gives them some boost of energy as well. I mean they are practically glowing lol.

Anyway, that's all I wanted to share. I hope everything goes well for you in Thailand and have fun being out in the wild!

Hi-hi.

Great that you are taking the life challenge with a positive mindset, but do take small breaks or afford yourself some treats to keep the energy and sanity. Last month, when I had no day-offs basically, and lots of new stuff (never tried before) to do, I told myself that it's OK to be a bit slower than my anxiety wanted me to be, because I was not running a short distance, I needed to be a stayer not a sprinter.

I'm with you on JaeDo being a good distresser, heh. Part of the reason I don't like to discuss their problems (it's their life and they deal with it, not like I can help in any way aside from bying albums/streaming).

I notice they still keep up to some routine precautions which are meant to downplay their level of knowing each other and their level of closeness, but the "I don't know him!" is finally over. It's a breath of fresh air to see Doyoung being himself around Jaehyun. To people like me it is always somewhat aggravating to observe people not behaving naturally (I guess it's the instict of "is something wrong? where is the danger? should I prepare to run away?"). And I don't mean the role of a polite member of society (I actually enjot Doyoung's tv-personality), but hiding something, restricting oneself, being nervous about being discovered. When Johnny was down and often talked in passive-aggressive, he really rubbed me the wrong way. Now he is happy and relaxed again and is a nice person to be around, heh. Carefree Doyoung is the best Doyoung.

And of course the new freedom to act more themselves helps with the job as well. Jaehyun is amicable with fans more and dances properly, Doyoung has energy to keep on going despite the workload.

I expect even better and ore plentyful JaeDo moment during repack, when neos will be even more relaxed with nothing to prove (the 4th album sold well, all Link concerts sells out, all the nice words from the fans met at fanmeets, etc).

[theboywithburninghands]

The Mood of Plastic Beach

So, this isn’t really a review or anything. Gorillaz have been very beneficial to my mental health lately, so I decided to write about how the two albums I’ve listened to the most make me feel and what imagery the songs conjure up. It’s not like, a ranked list or anything, I don’t really want to say one song is better than another, but I may have more to say about one than the other. Read it if you like, if you don’t, that’s fine too.

1: Orchestral Intro- Beautiful, feels like a pink sunrise over an enormous ocean.

2: Welcome to the World of The Plastic Beach: Chill, synesthesia inducing cadence. Feels like Snoop is gonna tell you a cool story.

3: White Flag: Starts off like you’re on a sailboat in a crystal blue sea, but then you and your friends find a cool, isolated island full of trash and you interact somewhat peacefully with the natives. It’s a new discovery for you.

4: Rhinestone Eyes: Tickles the brain just right, despite invoking imagery of a beach being invaded by the military and nature being poisoned by forces way out of your control. Definitely a song about bad news but it feels so good.

5. Stylo: Feels like a long drive down a neon-lit highway in a constantly chugging city. Bright and colorful but kind of grimy.

6: Superfast Jellyfish: Feels like when you walk into a convenience store or fast food joint at like 9 am and you’re starving, you can smell the cheap food cooking and you want it all. You know it’s bad for you and the environment but you’re hungry goddammit.

7: Empire Ants: It’s weird to explain how this one makes me feel. I used to work a long way away from home and would have to leave early in the morning when it was dark and cold. I’d be cold and unhappy, but eventually I’d fall into this sort of zen when my car would warm up and it’d just be me and some other headlights and a thermos of something warm to drink. That’s what this song feels like.

8: Glitter Freeze: Feels like a digital blizzard you’re running through. Pretty and all, but you gotta keep moving.

9: Some Kind of Nature: Groovy and relaxed, but sort of sad. Kind of like an old guy with depression talking about the sorry state of the world, but he has a really good sense of humor.

10: On Melancholy Hill: A bittersweet and completely genuine love song. Two people that are on and off in love with each other and don’t have the best lives, but stick together anyway. Beautiful.

11: Broken: Feels like you’re out at a beach at night and looking up at the stars and city skyline, and you feel bad, but the sort of introspective kind of bad where you realize everything is messed up but it’s messed up for everyone, not just you.

12: Sweepstakes: You’re in a city and everything is constantly moving and loud. Sort of like Wall Street where everyone is trying to hit it big and is dressed nice and walking fast and you feel out of place.

13: Plastic Beach- Sort of the thesis statement of the album. It’s a beach that’s incredibly polluted, but oddly clean. You feel safe swimming in the water and laying in the sand even if you know there’s trash all over the place, just out of sight.

14: To Binge: You just got really bad or disturbing news, but you have a day at the beach planned. So you go to the beach and you enjoy yourself but every now and then you get a reminder that something awful happened.

15: Cloud of Unknowing: Feels like smoking by yourself on a balcony, or like a clear sky after the world ends. Something happened that has you depressed. So you need a long time to think about it and cry. Things could get better or they could stay bad.

16: Pirate Jet: The world is out of control, there’s new information being chucked in your face every day, and you’re one person. So you live the life you got knowing things aren’t working right, but you need to live too, so you just enjoy what you have. Things are okay. For you, at least.

[nightcall99]

Dreams from 28.2.24

Dream 1: I was in a classroom sitting at a desk and it felt like nothing was really going on. I don't know where the teacher was. My classmates were around but it felt like no one was really there. I felt alone and decided to leave and so I did. I went to find my locker. I kept walking around the rows and rows of lockers, but wasn't sure I was going to recognise where my one was. I hadn't used my locker in a long time, almost forgotten it existed. I continued walking and feeling anxious, until finally I found my locker. I retrieve my backpack and leave.

As I was walking out of the school, some of my classmates tried to catch up with me but I wasn't interested in talking to them (I recognised some people from my recent course). I kept walking and then saw groups of students sitting on the lawn, presumably relaxing (I recognised old friends from high school, one of them was my former best friend). I think they called me over but it didn't feel right to join them. Or maybe I did, for a tiny while, but had felt their emptiness and left.

Dream 2: I'd just gotten into my car which was parked in the carpark. I think I had just finished my shift. I messaged GK (my old mentor/colleague) about some questions I had. He wasn't replying but I waited. The questions I had asked him were symbolised by screenshots/pictures. It felt somewhat important or at the very least, I didn't feel embarrassed to bother him about it. I knew he'd just finished work and was approaching the same carpark that I was in (even though we work one hour from each other irl). It turns out he hadn't received the messages but had wanted to help me, had somehow known anyway that I was seeking his advice. I see him. I call out his name loudly and he comes closer. The whole time he was walking toward me, he was looking down at his phone, distracted. I got out of my car to meet him. His wife appeared too, beside him and they both stared at me blankly. They were waiting for me to ask them whatever it was I needed to ask. I tried to bring up the pictures that had represented the questions I wanted to ask, but when I looked at it, I felt it so stupid and banal, that I thought better of it and awkwardly just tried to make small talk. I asked them if they had a busy day today. They said, No more than usual but there was some technical issues that held us back a bit. Not long after, when it was clear that there was nothing more to say, they left.

I got back into my car and sat in the backseat. There was a bag of trash. I was sorting through it, taking things out one by one to inspect. GK and his wife must have given it to me, or it just appeared in my car somehow and I knew that it belonged to them. I am sorting through the trash from their lives. Most of it is paper and other random things like unused napkins, this rubbish must be from an office bin. I was searching for something but I didn't find what I was looking for so I gave up looking, setting the trash bag aside. I felt sad about GK, that he wasn't there anymore.

Then I remembered that my sister had messaged me to go to Dan Murphy's (chain liquor retailer) to buy some kind of soda drink that my mum wanted. She sent through a picture of some glass bottles, maybe it was lemonade. I didn't really want to go and run this errand because it felt kind of late (in the dream, the sky had only slightly darkened and maybe it was between 5-7pm, but more than anything there was just the feeling of it being 'late' and besides, I was tired). I was still deciding as I started the car and drove out toward the carpark exit. As I made it to the lip of the road, I indicated to turn left in traffic. I think I will just go home.

[autimind]

Reconnecting part 6 - When to practise

If you are new to this series, see the recap.

BTW, it's all very well to have a recap but apparently I should reconnect to my authentic memory. I went ahead and wrote about overstimulation twice. Sorry about that.

Alright, to day I'll talk about when to practise. I've written before that practising (formally) should be done daily and at the same time. That is the ideal scenario. Do that if you can manage it. It is far better to practise regularly for only three minutes daily at the same time than sit for half an hour and then not at all and so on. We are talking habit forming here, people.

Build up to I'd personally say ten minutes at least. You'll usually need at least five minutes to calm down enough for the practice to work anyway. If you are still anxious after that or unsettled then simply note it. 'This is restiveness, this is what feeling restive is like'. Or something like that. It is not bad, you are not doing anything wrong. The goal is to know, right? Not to be some perfect monk-type meditator.

I know actual monks. They're just people.

How to sit

This is basically unimportant. Please don't try to pull off a lotus posture, unless you can already do that. Just sitting on the couch or in your favourite chair is by far good enough. If I am going to give any advice then I'd like you to sit in a somewhat dignified posture, as far as your own body is able to. So don't slouch if you can help it. The reason is that you are working on yourself which is important and you deserve to be treated with dignity.

When and where to practise

I use a meditation cushion and I have my own place set up in the attic. Perhaps you can make a special space. I find it helps. If you can't, no problem. Try to set up a moment where you can be undisturbed. Flat out ask others to not disturb you for however long you choose. This is your 'me time'.

Once you get into the habit of what I'll call formal practice for now, try to add informal moment of practice. Waiting for a traffic light to go green is an ideal opportunity. You're standing still anyway. So what do you sense. Impatience? Cool, so this is what impatience really feels like. Do a quick circuit through the body and mind and note what's going on. Don't go all Zen on yourself, you still have to pay attention to traffic.

I tend to practise when I'm standing at the copier near my desk in my place of work. In perhaps only three seconds, I relax my posture and do a lightning quick scan. As I'm more aware after that, I also tend to walk with awareness when I return to my desk afterwards.

Any sharp sensation is an immediate call to action. I've talked about that in the sequence before. Please don't fault yourself when you only become aware only fairly late. At the very moment you notice that, you are aware. That's good. You will grown and notice earlier on. Don't push.. those are the fruits of the practise, never the goal right now.

A doctor's or therapist's waiting room works wonderfully since you likely have at least some idle time there. So take ten seconds and do a quick scan. If you have more time available then you can do a full round of three minutes. Or more! At the very least it's more wholesome then fretting. And when you do find yourself fretting, at least you are aware. So this is what fretting feels like. Well done.

Now that you know about the formal exercises, try to have a moment of awareness at least once every day.

[twenytwenytwo]

Dec 8 2022 (6:08am)

Oof yesterday was charged. I suppose I had been somewhat scrambled by my MacBook arriving; in represents this unlocking of potential, and the loss of an excuse to not be productive. The starting gun fired, my shoes were not tied.

I spent Tuesday night somewhat entranced in the quest to equip the MacBook with the appropriate software so it would actually be useful. There was something funny about it in it’s perfectly fresh state; so much potential, but pretty well useless. I just kinda looked at it going “yup…”

I got all the software on - Adobe, Logic - and ended up in bed a little late, 10:30 I’d say. I woke up the next morning with all this new potential, but absolutely no plan… I felt like I might have a plan, but not really?

Anyway, it seemed pressing to send the wedding videos out. That was something I couldn’t rationally put off any longer, so it gripped me. I watched them, some bugs were noticed, so I opened the file, changed them, reuploaded to Vimeo. I did this one more time. Then I ran into an upload limit issue on Vimeo. Had to make another account, upload there. Sent videos. That took a couple hours.

It was 11am, and the ball was rolling, but I did not feel like I pushed it the right direction. What was the right direction? So, the frustration of mucking around with the videos, paired with feeling unclear about my day, paired (lol) with my revved engine… I was soon full of tension and confusion. A trigger for me.

I couldn’t relax, long story short. The energy within this anxious… y’know, it felt more like nervous, uncomfortable, tense rather than anxiety… whatever. Anyway, the energy from this anxiety ended up being very insightful yesterday and led me to further articulating sometime critical in my quest for transformation into my ideal self.

One of my weaknesses is Excessive Ambition, Unmanaged Ambition? What sounds better? Being hyper-ambitious has many negative markers, all of which I have exhibited, or still do. It’s the will to act paired with confidence, but lacking adequate perspective and self-management.

The extreme nature of the ambitious drive demands an extremely good perspective, (sense of orientation, self, future, realism…) so as to mediate the beastly drive to act and achieve. Without a refined, sober vantage point to plan and act from, the fiery beast gets agitated, because a weak vantage point suggests to the beast that something is wrong, or that explosive action must be taken to get out of the annoying bush clouding our vision.

I would constantly think of band matters in negative terms, such as being behind, or that I won’t find a new drummer, or that it’s going to be stale from now on, or that I won’t write as good now without the zest of the band, all sorts of perfectly negative musings. This force within me, not giving the smallest fuck about how stupid it was, reacts with “well it seems like it’s time to push forth harder than ever, based on this view of things. Why aren’t we doing something if shit’s so shitty? Let’s fucking go! Wtf man!”

So basically, the engine within is running extremely hot, but I haven’t put it in the correct gear. And now - keeping with the metaphor - if I do, I’m liable to spin out or something because I didn’t ease in.

Exiting metaphor.

This force within me must be respected, because it is a source of power. It must be domesticated, I must make it my beast. I know how to piss it off, I know how to please it. I must learn how to keep it in the goldilocks zone of engaged, but not over-engaged. Or under-engaged.

I should ask myself “Am I in a rush?”. Like a dog, perhaps I should only work on projects when I’m perfectly calm. If I answer “yes”, I’m not allowed to work, instead I have to correct my perspective, get a better vantage, because there’s no non-stupid reason to rush. Patience.

Summarized. If I feel rushed, that is a certain cue that I’m acting through a warped view of things. 100%. If I continue forth in this manner, I’ll hit something, and have to stop, clean up, redirect, and restart.

I have a fiery beast of a spirit inside me. It needs to be respected and integrated into me. Pay attention to what pleases it, and what irritates it. Learn to work it. Tame it.

[atticuswritesstuff]

Chrollo with a smarty pants/genius darling who acts out or tries to escape just because they’re bored/understimulated?

Author's note: I actually really fucking love this prompt so I am SUPER excited for this one. I too get very bored/understimulated often. Sorry, I got to it late cuz I just got back from a Montana trip!

Yandere!Chrollo x Bored!Reader

Summary: Chrollo's darling becomes bored being locked up all the time, decides to take yet another unsupervised trip out of the mansion.

Warnings: Anal/Assplay, overstimulation, punishment, spanking, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, yandere themes, BDSM themes, degradation

Character Description: afab, she/her use that's it

Word count: 4.5k

Attempt number seven. Seven times you had slipped through his fingers since the beginning of the year alone, each time becoming more and more elaborate.

Chrollo scoffed, storming through the woods, scanner in hand. It was beeping softly, indicating you weren't far.

It wasn't like you made any attempt to escape discreetly, jamming a fork into the neck of one of Chrollo's guards, puncturing his jugular before you made your way through the garden to the edge of the forest. As Chrollo watched a recording of it from the cameras, he was shocked at how nonchalantly you stabbed him before calmly walking off. If you had intended to run far, you weren't moving very fast.

The tracker started beeping a little faster now. He was getting closer.

The early April air was nipping at his cheeks, he couldn't fathom how you were out here in your pajamas, barefoot at that. Chrollo was more worried about you than just finding you. While your previous attempts had been clever, methodical, and downright genius, this time was very different to him. As far as he knew, you'd never killed anyone, and now you had decided to not only kill someone but patiently wait for him to be unfocused before sneaking upon him. You planned this.

Chrollo walked a couple more meters, finding the tracker was leading him to the nearby lake. When he came to the forest's edge, he could see you sitting at the edge of the dock, staring up at the moon.

You heard him approaching as soon as he broke through the treeline, it took him a bit longer to retrieve you than expected, although you attributed that to him thinking you were going to try and run far. A couple miles from the house wasn't necessarily far for a commoner, but this was farther than you'd ever been allowed.

Chrollo's heavy footsteps walked the length of the dock, stopping right behind you. He knew you would come quietly, after the first few times, you'd stopped escaping to try and get away, instead, you found the chase to be much more thrilling.

"Time to go, darling," He hummed nonchalantly.

"Five more minutes," You replied, swishing your feet through the near-freezing water, "The moon is so pretty tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

Chrollo gazed down at you, you were surprisingly clean considering you'd just stabbed someone. Not a single drop of blood on you anywhere. The only thing shielding you from the cold being a thin cami and a shamefully short pair of shorts.

Chrollo always admired your body, but the pajamas were a nice touch. They were a recent purchase, baby blue fabric with white lace trim, god how he wanted to tear the set off you.

"I didn't think you'd have it in you to take a man's life, darling," Chrollo stated.

"I didn't either," You chuckled, "But it's done now."

"Why not just sneak away?" He replied, sitting on the dock next to you, "He was unfocused, you could've done it easily if this was where you intended to go all along."

"You're right, I didn't have to kill him," You sighed, bringing one of your feet onto the dock, "I just wanted to see if I could. You left an anatomy book on your desk, I found the major arteries of the body to be very interesting."

"Now that I think about it," You continued, "Maybe I should've run farther, seeing you so desperately trying to find me is rather amusing."

“You enjoy being chased like a rabbit?” Chrollo mused.

“Believe it or not the thrill is more exciting than anything you’ve ever gifted to me,” You scoffed, “At least running gave me something to do that required thought. Something you seem to forget to provide.”

Poking at Chrollo’s care tactics wasn’t smart, but you didn’t know how else to get through to him that your current environment was extremely understimulating, and that you needed more. You could tell he was growing upset, but he wouldn’t dare show it outside of the house.

You pulled your knee to your chest, resting your cheek against it, "Do I have to go back?"

"Of course you do, darling," Chrollo replied, a warm hand rubbing up and down your back, "Why wouldn't you?"

You scoffed, "Probably because being a prisoner of marble and glass is dreadfully boring."

Chrollo's hand stopped, "You think the life I've worked so hard to build is boring?"

"Yup," You replied flatly, "Honestly I thought you kidnapping me would be a lot more fun, but it's even more boring than my old life."

Chrollo was becoming angrier with each word that came out of your mouth.

"Don't get me wrong, I know how hard you try, but my god I don't know how you stand it. You're sweet and all, but you're gonna bore me to death sooner or later, escaping actually gives me something to do," You hummed, pulling your other foot out of the water, "Anyways, we can go back now, this chase was more boring than I expected."

You rose from your place, turning to walk back to your cage. It took Chrollo a minute to get up and follow you, partially from the shock of your completely arrogant and nonchalant demeanor. The person you had become over the past two years almost reminded him of a certain magician he once knew.

Chrollo eyed you as your hips swayed, every muscle in your leg flexing and relaxing as you walked. It was something he adored about you, before he took you, you were one of your tribe's best, strongest dancers. The way you swayed and glided while you did the most basic of tasks was alluring to him. Now, he just watched you sit around and observe everything.

The view from walking behind you wasn't necessarily bad, though. Your pajama shorts gave him a nice view of your ass as you walked.

Sauntering through the woods, you could no longer hide how cold you were, the incessant shivering and blue tint to your skin proved that fact. Your feet even more so from being in the water.

You knew Chrollo was upset with what you'd said, you could tell immediately, but keeping the truth from him wasn't an option anymore. You had started to care for him some time ago. You really appreciated him, but god if he didn't allow you to do something you were going to lose your mind.

When you could just barely make out the edges of the garden approaching, you stopped mid-path, "Chrollo?"

He caught up to you in an instant, "Yes, darling?"

"I don't want to go back if I have to live like this," You felt tears well up in your eyes, "Please."

His hands found your hips, "Live like what? Talk to me darling, how can I make it better?"

"I don't want to just sit around and wait for you to come back. I'm tired of you being at my beck and call. O-Or just fucking sitting around waiting for you to come back," You felt a solemn tear roll down your cheek, "It's so fucking boring. Please just take me with you or give me something I can do for you or-"

"Darling," He cut you off with a firm hand over your mouth, the other still settled on your hip. He shushed you softly, lessening the pressure on your mouth, "Don't panic, I'm listening. I promise I'm hearing you, just speak slowly alright?"

You nodded, he took his hand off your mouth slowly, "Keep going, what can I do to help you?"

You thought about it, more tears spilling down your cheeks, "Take me with you. Don't leave me by myself anymore. I just want to be useful."

Scooping you up bridal style as he headed towards the garden, "I understand. Even in your old life, you were always helping others, weren't you?"

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your head into him. Closing your eyes, you breathed in his scent, trying to commit it to memory.

Chrollo's feet hit the marble floors of the hallway that led into the house, you could feel his warmth returning as he carried you inside.

"While I understand your frustrations, you did try to escape my love," He started, bringing you into your shared bedroom, "And that requires a punishment."

You winced, shaking your head against him, "Please, not again! I'm really sorry Sir I can do better-"

"No," He shushed you, setting you on the foot of the bed, "I have the solution to your problem, but only if you take your punishment, alright?"

You nodded slightly, your tear-stained cheeks slightly puffy and red from the cold.

"Alright," He purred, his hands rubbing up and down your shoulders, "I'll try to make this at least somewhat pleasant for you, ok?"

You nodded once again, finding comfort in the fact that he was at least going to please you.

"Lay back for me," He stated, pushing you back by your shoulders, "I'll be right back."

You stared up at the ceiling in anticipation, the last punishment was hard enough, but you couldn't pass up the opportunity to finally get out of the house. Chrollo had returned from the closet, setting something on the bench at the foot of the bed. He took off his shirt before crawling over you.

"You know what your punishment is, right?" He asked, a face cupping your cheek.

You nodded, "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl," He whispered, leaning down to give you the softest of kisses, just barely ghosting over your lips as he pulled the knife out of his back pocket.

Pressing it to your throat, you froze, knowing it had already begun.

"Just focus on me, darling," Chrollo whispered against your lips, "I won't cut you."

He kissed you once more, harder this time as he slowly dragged the knife down your neck. It was a 50/50 chance he would intentionally cut you, even if he said he wouldn't. It was the only thing he'd ever lied to you about, knowing that made your heart race.

His tongue invaded your mouth as he slid the knife down your chest, coming back up to cut your bralette off in between your breasts. You didn't even register the pain from him grazing you with the knife until it started throbbing.

You looked down, seeing a thin line of blood-forming directly in between your breasts.

"Whoops," he chuckled, gazing down at the same mark you were. He sat up, straddling your hips and now pinning you to the bed by your throat. Your bare chest tempted him to carve his name into your breasts, then you'd really know who you belonged to. Chrollo briefly cut the straps of your bralette, allowing the flimsy fabric to fall away, revealing your breasts to him.

Setting the knife aside, Chrollo dragged his nails down your chest, briefly squeezing your waist before leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses all over your neck. He trailed downwards, backing off the bed as he kissed your waist, your breasts, swirling his tongue around each of your nipples lightly before backing off entirely.

"Turn over," Chrollo demanded.

"No." You said timidly, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"I'm sorry?" Chrollo replied smugly, "Wanna repeat that, darling?"

"I said n-no," You said, now even quieter than before.

"No? You don't want to be punished?" He asked, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs teasingly.

You shook your head to confirm that you indeed did not want to be punished in the way he was thinking.

"Even after killing my guard and escaping? You sure you don't want to be punished?" He asked again, his condescending tone making you whimper as you shook your head again.

Chrollo sighed, "Very well."

What? He's serious?

Untying the bandana from his forehead, he was quick to grab your hands and tie them together, placing them above your head, "I'll please you since I know that's what you really want."

Your heart jumped in your chest, somehow excited at the fact that you had gotten out of it.

Chrollo wasted no time cutting your shorts off, leaving you completely naked and exposed to him. He brought your legs up to the edge of the bed, bending them close to your chest, "Stay like this for a moment, ok?"

You gave him brief 'mhm' before he left, crossing the room to his chest of drawers. You heard him open it, the soft sound of things being moved around before he quickly came back. Craning your neck up to see what had been retrieved, you were quickly thwarted by Chrollo who pushed your head back down.

"Patience," He sighed, "Be a good girl now, hm?"

You grumbled, but let him hold you down. You knew this routine all too well, reminiscing about the fond memories of your legs pulling against the rope he was now starting to tie around your ankles. He took the time to tie up each leg, making sure they would not be able to come out of the bent position he'd placed them in.

"So pretty," Chrollo cooed, rubbing his hands up and down your waist, "Alright darling, eyes closed."

You shut your eyes as he brought a blindfold to your eyes, the soft silk being tied around the back of your head.

"There, now that you can't fight me," He started, using brute force to flip you over so you were bent over the edge of the bed, knees on the bench, "We can begin your punishment."

"That's not fair Si-"

A sharp smack was delivered to your ass, "Hush."

You went quiet, whimpering into the plush comforter.

"You"

Smack.

"Broke"

Smack.

"My"

Smack.

"Rules"

Each word was punctuated by a harsh spanking to one of your ass cheeks. You were only four in and it already stung.

"I'm sorry!" You cried, trying to wriggle away from Chrollo, "Please Sir!"

"Mm, please what darling? Please punish you?" He hummed, rubbing your bottom with smooth circles.

"Nuh!" You whined, your voice becoming whinier under the threat of fully submitting.

"I told you I would please you, but only if you took your punishment like a good girl," Chrollo hummed, leaving a kiss on each cheek, "Do you really expect me to please you when you're not going to comply darling?"

You whined, wiggling a bit more.

"What do good girls say, darling?" Chrollo asked, softly rubbing your arched back.

"P-please," You huffed.

"Please what, love?" He replied, quietly undoing the bottle of lube he had brought to the bed.

"Please punish me," You whispered, "Sir."

"That's my good girl," He hummed.

Chrollo squirted a bit of lube onto his first two fingers, letting it warm a bit before bringing them to your ass. Mewling as Chrollo started rubbing your puckered hole, he wasted no time plunging a digit into your ass.

"Fuck!" You cried out, feeling him slipping in and out up to his first knuckle. You shook against the rope.

"Aww, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were starting to enjoy this." He teased, pushing his finger up to his second knuckle, "You're taking me so well, I can only imagine how well you're going to do later."

You gave him a long, drawn-out moan in response. He wanted you to beg, either for more or for him to stop, either way, he wanted you to be a mess.

The discomfort started to fade as he pushed his two fingers fully into you. Now, you could feel your arousal dripping as he steadily finger-fucked your ass, trying to stretch you out best he could with just two fingers.

"Already taking my fingers so well," Chrollo cooed, picking up the pace, "I think you're ready to be punished, don't you?"

You shook your head, knowing what would come next.

"Oh come now, don't be like that darling." He replied, slowly pulling his fingers from your tight hole.

You whined at the loss of contact, while it wasn't quite the pleasure you wanted, it was starting to feel good. You waited patiently as Chrollo left the bed, finding the necessary tools needed in his bedside drawer before coming back to the bench.

In one hand, he held a set of purple anal beads that gradually got bigger, in the other, a vibrating wand he fully intended on using on you. While the vibrator wasn't ever used during a punishment, Chrollo saw it to be a mercy for your honesty, therefore, he would keep his word, making his punishment at least somewhat pleasurable for you.

"Tonight's going to be a bit different, love," Chrollo started, setting the vibrator on the bench, he began covering the anal beads in a generous amount of lube, "I need you to trust me, ok?"

You didn't know what he meant by different, you assumed more painful, but knew that there would be no pleasure without pain, "I trust you."

"Good," He hummed, rubbing the first ball against your lubed hole, "You ready?"

Your faint 'mhm' had Chrollo pushing the first ball in, earning a whimper from you. It wasn't much bigger than Chrollo's finger, but you could still feel it. Mere seconds later, he was pushing the second ball in, the equivalent to a little more than two of his fingers.

You were quietly whimpering and mewling into the comforter, hoping he wouldn't hear how much you were enjoying the slow stretch.

"I need your hands," Chrollo announced, pulling you firmly upward by your shoulders, "Put them here."

He shoved your arms down toward your pussy before pushing you back down on your chest. Before, your hands had been resting on the comforter above your head. Now, they were firmly squished between your thighs. You felt Chrollo press something round into your hands before tying your wrists up. Mid-tie, he readjusted the foreign object to rest against your clit.

The vibrator.

You began to squirm a little bit, knowing that this is what he meant by tonight being a little different. You waited patiently as he tied the ropes tight, making sure you wouldn't be able to move it away, then he turned it on.

"Ah...oh fuck," You moaned, the vibrator already working to make you come undone, "Sir.."

Your moans were becoming more sultry, needier, you began panting as your legs worked up to a steady shake, he knew he would break you tonight at this rate.

"See? I told you I would please you," Chrollo hummed, pushing the next ball in, you cried out even louder, "You have permission to cum whenever you'd like."

Knowing this was going to make it a lot harder, he wanted you to submit, to break, "D..Da-Ah!"

You were stuttering as the next ball was pushed in, your asshole stretching around it.

"What was that? I don't think I heard you, princess," Chrollo teased.

"Daddy!" You wailed, giving into the submission he so desperately wanted. Your pussy began fluttering around nothing as the vibrator sent deep shock waves through your pussy, "Please!"

"Please what, princess?" He smiled, palming your ass cheeks.

"Please punish me!" You moaned, needing more stimulation, "I'm sorry I tried to escape! I've been a bad girl!"

The sight of you writhing under him was pathetic, you were truly becoming a mess and he hadn't even really touched you. Seeing how hard you were trembling, Chrollo took pity on you. Watching your pretty pussy clench and release, needing some form of stimulation, he decided to at least grant you this mercy.

Plunging two fingers into your dripping hole, he crooked his fingers, quickly finding your g-spot, "Is this what my darling needs?"

"Yes! Oh, fu-fuck please daddy!" You moaned, fucking yourself on his fingers, "Gonna cum!"

"You have permission princess, it's ok," Chrollo reaffirmed, working his fingers inside you.

It only took seconds, the knot that had been building inside you finally burst, causing you to clench around his fingers. The vibrator held firm against your clit after, the pleasure becoming painful. You started to cry through the blindfold.

Chrollo licked the mess off his fingers before slowly starting to pull the anal beads out one by one. You whined and whimpered as he did so, the action only causing you to clench to avoid feeling empty. It did nothing, Chrollo continued to pull the remaining few beads out, your asshole gaping slightly

"Mm, you're doing so well baby," Chrollo sighed, pulling his own pants down. Pumping his cock a few times before rubbing the crown of it up and down your slick.

"Daddy! D-Don't do that!" You whined, trying to pull away from his ministrations.

"What? This?" Chrollo asked innocently, repeating the action.

You lost it, cumming on the spot as the tip ghosted over your pussy, your shame covered your face in a heavy blush. It barely took anything for you to cum with the stupid vibrator continuing to buzz against your clit at the highest setting.

"S-Sorry daddy.." you slurred, still trembling as you felt your mind go blank.

"Aww, is my baby that much of a cock drunk little slut?" Chrollo teased, pressing the tip of his painfully erect cock into your ass, "I know you are, my pretty little darling wanted to be punished this whole time, huh?"

You heard him, but could barely form enough of a sentence to answer.

Chrollo pushed into you slowly, relishing in the tightness of your ass, your gummy walls fluttering around him as you were overstimulated. The feeling of being full had your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

Once fully seated inside you, Chrollo slowly dragged his nails along your back before palming your ass. Pulling your ass cheeks apart with his thumbs, he gave a few long, slow thrusts, watching the way you clenched around his cock.

"Fuck," Chrollo moaned, "I almost don't even want to punish you with the way this tight little ass wraps around my cock."

You could only moan in response, trembling as he continued his tortuously slow pace.

"How many spankings do you think you'll receive from tonight's actions, princess?" Chrollo halted, only halfway inside as his hands trailed upwards along your outer thighs, "I think forty is a good number? What say you, love?"

"Nuh-uh!" You cried, wiggling against his touch as one of his hands left your skin, "Thirty!"

Chrollo chuckled at your offer, "I was originally going to settle for twenty-five, but thirty works for me, darling."

With a crushing force, Chrollo's hand came down.

Smack!

"Count, or I'll start over," Chrollo demanded.

"O-One," You whispered.

His other hand rose while the other soothed the spot he had just spanked.

Smack!

"Two!"

Smack!

"Three," Chrollo's hands were relentless, switching cheeks each time he smacked you in order to give your poor skin a break. He was merciful enough to rub the spot he had spanked before doing it again.

It took minutes to work your way up to the end, you came twice throughout the process as the vibrator held firm against your clit.

Smack!

"Twenty-eight!"

Smack!

"Twenty-nine!"

Smack!

"Th-Thirty!" You were sobbing, shaking uncontrollably under the weight of Chrollo's punishment.

"There we go, all done," Chrollo cooed, softly rubbing your cherry-red ass as he set another slow pace, "You did so well for me, darling."

A warmth grew in your chest, you really did enjoy being praised by Chrollo, even if it was after a punishment with his dick in your ass. He enjoyed it too, loving the way you clenched around his cock each time he spanked you, it took a lot of focus to not cum mid punishment.

You were writhing the pressure in your core already starting to build again, your trembling never stopped, even throughout your punishment. Chrollo kept up his word to please you, but god at what cost?

"I want you to cum for me again, angel," Chrollo hummed, his hands finding your waist as he began picking up the pace, "I want to absolutely ruin you."

"No no no! Daddy, I can't!" You sobbed, knowing you would be doing more than just cumming if this kept up.

"Oh? Is my princess trying to hide the pretty mess I know she can make?" Chrollo asked, knowing what you were implying.

Grabbing the knife, he cut the ropes from your legs. He rolled your limp form over onto your back, yanking the blindfold off so he could watch as you helped overstimulate yourself. With one arm by your head to support himself, he guided his cock back into your ass, resuming the brutal pace he set.

You held Chrollo's gaze as he went absolutely feral, drilling your ass while holding one of your legs up over his shoulder. You could barely conceal your tears at this point, broken moans showing him just how bad you needed a break, but he was intent on making you squirt before he stopped.

"I know you need this," Chrollo purred, pressing his forehead to yours, "Just give in to my love, your body wants this."

You started to shake harder, legs trembling even more aggressively, he was pushing you to the edge.

"Fuck! Da...Daddy," You groaned, knowing you were only seconds away, "Kiss me, p-please."

Pulling you into his lips as you came, your screams and cries muffled against Chrollo's lips as you drenched his cock and thighs with your cum. You barely registered the feeling of his cock throbbing as he filled your ass with cum. It took several seconds for your orgasm to stop before you were finally able to collapse back onto the bed.

Chrollo was quick to shut the vibrator off as he pulled out, knowing your body had enough. He admired the way his cum began slowly trickling out of your ass while he untied your hands.

"You did so well, darling," Chrollo praised, leaving soft kisses on the inside of your calf, "So so good."

His kisses trailed upwards, his lips softly tickling your thighs as he caressed them. He continued upward with his continued praise and love, making sure each part of you had received some form of physical attention before kissing you passionately.

You were still panting, your heart thrumming in your ears as he brushed your hair away from your face. At least he held true to his word.

With your hands now free, you pulled him in for another kiss, wanting to stay enveloped in his warmth forever.

"So, my little brat," He started, interlacing his fingers with yours, "Was this enough of a cure for your boredom?"

You giggled, giving him a weak smile, "It was, but as I recall, you mentioned what sounded like a more long-term solution to this problem."

"Ah, that," Chrollo sighed, rolling over next to you. You turned on your side the best you could as he gazed up at the ceiling, "I was thinking you could officially become a spider."

Your breath hitched in your throat, "You mean like part of the phantom-troupe?"

"Yes," He replied curtly, "You'd be with me all day every day, same rules apply, but it would give you a chance to use that intelligence of yours."

You grinned, thinking it over, "Sure, why not?"

[scuttling]

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓.

— 3.0k words

eijirou kirishima | hard dom + dubcon jic + f!reader + exhibitonism + face-fucking + dumbification + car sex + more! minors dni.

"Made me come all this way...it’d be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it."

"No, no, no, no, no—c'mon," you cry as your car engine spits and sputters to a stop in the road, coughing like an old man with asthma before it's dead for good. Jamming your heel on the gas pedal, you twist your key in the ignition, but there's no use. You're fucking stuck.

You sigh, before slamming your forehead against the steering wheel. It's hard enough to sting, and the blaring horn startles all unsuspecting birds in a five-mile radius, but you could care less. Stuck in the middle of the woods at one in the morning, AAA membership-less with nothing but the clothes on your back and the vehicle you came with. Short cuts are a fucking myth.

Mina's the only person you can think of calling—because frankly, she's the only one who'd know a mechanic who could help at this time of night if one exists. Which you doubt. Severely.

"[Y/N]?" Mina answers, semi-urgently. You wonder if you startled her out of a good sleep, but knowing the night owl, her evening is just beginning. "What's up?"

"I'm fucking stuck in the middle of nowhere," you groan, banging your head against the back of the seat though you know she can't see you. "Car's not working."

"Oh no," she coos, and her pity is useless. "Do you have AAA?"

"No. Do you have a mechanic?"

"A mechanic...at one am? I don—wait," she interrupts before you hear something akin to rustling sheets. "I might have a friend who could help! But don't get your hopes up girlie, he's a heavy sleeper."

You shrug, shaking your head. "At this point, I'm desperate."

"Alrighty!" Mina confirms, and now all you can do is fucking hope her friend pulls through. "I'll give him a quick buzz and then send his number over, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," you breathe, relaxing (somewhat) with your chin against the steering wheel. "Thanks, girl."

"Of course!" she cheers, and you wonder how someone could have so much energy at this time of night. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," you snort. "I might need it."

Riiiing! Riiiing!

Eijirou's had a long day.

A pipe busted at the auto shop today, resulting in an immediate flood—meaning they had to get everything that could possibly rust out as quickly as possible, aka everything in the goddamn shop.

So, yeah. He's had a long day, and when he's finally able to get under the covers and go the fuck to sleep, Mina calls him with this.

"Hey...Eijirou, buddy, best friend—"

"Mina, I love you, but what do you want?" Eijirou grunts into the phone, voice worn and ragged from limited sleep and his terribly long day. One am is never an appropriate time to call anybody, but he figures something has to be up—Mina's not the type to call in the middle of the night.

"Um, well. My homegirl’s kinda stuck in the woods with car troubles—"

"The woods."

It takes Mina a second but she hums in confirmation, and Eijirou can see her head nodding from where he lays. He sighs, rolling on his back to blink up at the ceiling. "Yep!"

"What is she doing in the woods at midnight?"

"I don't know!" Mina exclaims. Eijirou runs a hand over his face. "I just—please, Ei? She doesn't have AAA or anything and it's really, really late. All you have to do is hotwire her car or something, right? It's not like she totaled it or anything."

And dammit. Eijirou hates being a nice person.

"Just give me ten."

Mina practically gasps out a thank you, "You're a lifesaver Ei! Really! I—"

She's interrupted by the buzz of his phone—this time, from an unknown number. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, "That her?"

"Should be!" The pinkette says. Eijirou's feet finally touch the floor and it's painfully cold. His bed has never looked more appealing, and that's counting all those instances in high school. "Thanks again, Ei!"

"Yep," Eijirou says, popping the 'p,' before clearing his voice and switching the line. Customer Service at one am, here he comes.

"Red Riot Auto Repair and Services, how may I help you?"

All he receives is a grunt on the other end of the phone: "My car won't turn on."

Eijirou waits for you to give him a little more to work with, but it's clear that's all you have to say when you ask hello to ensure he's still on the other end of the line. Runs his hands through his hair, he silently prays he won't have to leave the house to get your car to work.

"Did you try jiggling the key?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid," you huff, and Eijirou's eyebrows fold in exasperation. He insists you do it again though, and hears the weak splutter of your engine through the phone with a heavy heart. "'S fucking useless."

"Did you try tapping the battery terminals?"

"The battery whatsitals?" You say, too loud and smart-mouthed for the very thin amount of patience Eijirou harbors. He reaches for his hair tie, satisfied enough with the messy bun he makes on the first try.

"Just send me your location," Eijirou sighs, moving for a jacket before snatching the keys to the shed. He'd rather just get this over with than beat around the bush.

Luckily, you're not far. 

"You drive that thing?" is your first comment, and Eijirou can't even appreciate your beauty before your first words shatter your image completely, and he's slamming the door to his truck with rolling eyes, rusted toolbox heavy in his hand. "It looks like Mater from Lightning McQueen."

Eijirou just stares at you for a second, just to see if you're really serious, and resists the urge to scoff when it seems like you are.

"It's a truck," is all he says, before marching around you and to the task at hand—your car. "Pop the hood."

You huff, but you listen, and Eijirou wastes no time in getting to work. You watch with your elbows balanced on the rim, curious but quiet, and that allows him to get in the zone enough to realize there are countless problems with your car.

"When was the last time you took this thing into the shop?" He probes. You click your tongue, eyes tracing the outlines of the trees as you search for an answer. That's never a good sign.

"Um...never?"

"And how long have you had it?"

"A few years," you nod, and Eijirou drops his head.

"It's a miracle you made it this far in the first place," he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. What the hell is he going to do now? There's no way your car is moving anywhere tonight. You frown, jamming your hands on your hips.

"Well? Are you going to fix it or what?"

"I can fix it," Eijirou says with a shrug, closing your hood. "But not tonight."

"What do you mean not tonight?" You badger, breathing down his neck as he hikes back to his truck to set the toolbox down. There's no reason to carry it if he's not going to need it.

"I mean, your car's going to need a solid six months before it can run again, Sweetheart."

When Eijirou turns, you're much too in his face for his liking. He can practically feel your breath against his chest, and it has him rolling his eyes, leaning against his truck with arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay, but I need it to run tonight," you explain, gesticulating so wildly Eijirou fears his own chest may fall in the cross-fire. "Like, I need to get home tonight."

"I can't—" the redhead sighs, running his hand over his face. You're terribly difficult, and if Mina had given him a proper warning he probably wouldn't be here in the fucking first place. "Listen. My shop is out of commission for the next few days 'cause of a flood. I can work on your car or whatever, but it'll take a sec, so the most I can do is drop you at a hotel down the road or somethin'. Sound like a plan?"

"No," you growl, claws and all, and Eijirou wishes for nothing but death. "That doesn't sound like a plan! I don't know you, what makes you think I'll get in a car with you?"

Oh. My. God.

"Then you can spend the night in your car and have Mina come get you in the morning," he huffs, stomping over to the driver's side of his truck. "So it's either you're gettin' in, or I'm leaving ya."

With that, he slams the car door shut, shoves his key in the ignition, and counts to fucking ten, and on nine and a half you're flinging open the passenger door and bouncing in the seat, arms crossed over your chest in indignance. You don't even look him in the eye.

"Seatbelt," he warns. You tut.

"I don't need a fucki—"

"Put on the goddamn seatbelt."

You don't say anything, but he's satisfied by the click that follows. Eijirou shifts into drive and you two take off.

"The seat's so uncomfortable."

Not even twenty feet.

"Suck it up," is all the pity Eijirou has to offer. He's preoccupied with trying to get from this side road to a main road with, you know, actual civilization. The road is unsteady—unsteady enough that a bump sends the both of you flying towards the roof of his car, and naturally, you have something to say about it.

"Y'know, for a mechanic, you're not a very good driver," you say, and it has Eijirou's fists tightening around his steering wheel. His patience wears down until it has the height of a penny, and Eijirou worries for when it shatters because he has no clue what he'll do if it does.

"And it smells a little funky," you continue anyway, eyes wandering around the cabin aimlessly."Kinda like cheese. No offense."

Eijirou pulls over at that, teeth grinding. Is he really going to snap over cheese comment?

“Is this a condom?”

Yes. Yes, the fuck he is.

"Get out."

"Um—excuse me?" You blink, eyebrows raising in offense. "You're kicking me out. Because I found a fucking rubber?”

Eijirou glares your way and he's sure you can feel him radiating fury, and that's enough to convince you to hop out of the car without another word. He follows, slamming the door behind him.

"Okay? Now what?" You growl, and Eijirou loves it—the false display of confidence. Because he knows it won't take much to break you once he gets you under his thumb, and you'll look so pretty once he does. Cocking his head to his side, he tells you to come here without having to open his mouth. You follow.

"Now, on your knees."

You splutter at his request, rolling your eyes as if he wasn't being serious. Though you shut up once you hear the clink of his belt, lips widening in revelation, and Eijirou thinks you'd look much prettier with your mouth full.

"You made me come all this way—it'd be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it," Eijirou says, and the way you shiver implies that you like this more than you let on. He coos when you say nothing, "And for the first time today she's got nothin' to say. See? You're improving already."

He gives you a second to move. When you don't, he lifts an eyebrow. "Knees, Princess."

You do and Eijirou groans at the view, palming his hardening cock at the sight of your bambi eyes blinking up at him—and it's a pretty one, at that. Leaning against the door of his truck, he grunts, "Take it out."

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers and Eijirou shivers upon contact with the cool air, but the warmth of your palm makes up for it. You spit on his cock with a curled lip and it's nothing short of crude, before you're swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as far as you can possibly go.

"Uh-uh," Eijirou tuts, grabbing you by the hair to pull your mouth off his cock. "We got at my pace, Sweetheart."

"Why?" You pout with a curled lip. Eijirou scowls.

"Because," he says, before stuffing half of his cock down your throat, "I'm gonna put that big fuckin' mouth to use at my pace."

With that, Eijirou thrusts into your mouth, using the grip he has around your hair as leverage. Your throat is impossibly warm and the way you choke has him keening, and that's enough for his hips to start picking up mindlessly.

"Shit—what a dirty fuckin' girl," he says, smirking when you moan around his cock. "You like this? You like sucking off a guy you just met?"

Your eyes flutter at that, nails digging into his thighs, and it nearly has him cooing. When you swallow around him Eijirou's hips stutter and he grunts, "In public, no less. Anyone could drive by and see you taking my dick down your throat...but you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want the world to know how much of a slut you are."

Your hand falls between your thighs and Eijirou grins like the devil as he watches you touch yourself on the dirty road, desperate just because knows how to push the right buttons. That's enough to have him caving, demanding you rise to your feet and get in the backseat of his car.

"Hands and knees," Eijirou urges, his body towering over yours from behind. It's not long before he's pinning your wrists to the windshield with one hand and using the other to land a harsh slap on your ass; harsh enough to make you jolt forwards from the force.

"Such a pretty ass," he coos before slapping it again, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip to muffle the sound. "And it's all for me, ain't it, Princess?"

You nod, but Eijirou spanks you again—he's looking for an answer.

"Y-Yeah, yes, all yours just—" your hips wiggle in search of his cock. Eijirou chuckles, leveling his lips with your ear.

"Want me to fill you up, Princess?"

You gasp out a yes, nodding vehemently. The redhead finds he likes you like this much better, chest rumbling with arousal. "Yeah? How bad?"

"B-Bad, please, I need t—fuck!"

Eijirou stuffs you full with one thrust, and even he needs a moment, freehand searching to hold onto your hip while his grip tightens around your wrists. You quiver under him, and he swears he can feel your gut contract around his cock, eyelids fluttering when you grind against him.

"Holy shit," Eijirou finds himself wheezing, not expecting you to be so tight. You drop your head against the cool windshield, whimpering like the pretty little thing you are, shuddering as he pulls out before ramming himself in again until he's balls deep. You scream, back arching from the angle.

And fuck. It's impossible for him to stop after that.

"Fuckin' look at you," Eijirou chuckles, body practically caging you against the seat, "Drooling all over my window like a slut. Fuck, you really know how to get a guy goin' huh?"

“Pull—pull my hair,” you request, words from his pistoning hips. Eijirou tuts and rips your hands off the window in favor of pushing your head into the seat, not making a move to yank on your hair once.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making demands, Princess," he growls before his hot palm cracks against your ass, hissing from the way you tighten around him when he does.

You whine at that, pushing into him the best you can. It only spurs his hips on faster, and Eijirou lets go of your hands in favor of grabbing your face instead, groaning at the sight of the tears shining silver from the moonlight. He likes the fact that you can't do much but gasp and rock against him, your hands falling to clit to finally push yourself off the edge.

He looks at you and all he sees is his dumb little thing, who can't do anything, let alone get her car to work, and that's when Eijirou realizes he doesn't want this to be as much of a one-time thing as he initially thought.

"Gonna...gonna cum," you slur, cheek mashed flat against his window. Eijirou fucks you into the door of his truck, pace quick and bruising, as his mind thinks of all the fun you two could have together—all the fun he wants to have with you.

"Cum, Sweetheart. Make a mess of my cock and my leather seats, yeah? Show me how good I make you feel."

You tighten around his cock, tight, and that's enough to send him spiraling into an orgasm of his own, hips stuttering to a stop as he fills you up. Though his hips never stop, not until you're coming around his cock with a broken moan, curled toes digging into his car floor. He watches you catch your breath, splayed across the seat, with a sudden realization that he feels much lighter, but doubts it was the sex that did the trick.

"You fucked your anger out now?" You wheeze, breaking the silence, and Eijirou snorts.

"I—yes," he says before his eyes trail to the scratch marks around your hips and thighs. "Are you...okay?"

"Never been better," you toss your arms in the air like you're on a rollercoaster but lack the energy to scream. It's cute and it had the redhead re-evaluating everything, wondering how the day could start so shitty and yet, end so well. "Are you okay?"

His eyebrows furrow, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you shrug, and Eijirou finds it hard to stay focused when you look like that. "You asked me, so. Everyone needs a post-sex check-in, ya know?"

Fuck.

Fuck, yeah he's definitely keeping you.

[myherowritings]

PART 3. ACCIDENTAL SUGAR DADDY?

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. happy new year y’all! :3 i hope you have a good 2021 and here is some flirty ceo!shouto for u to enjoy as we enter the new year hehe ;) thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

“I heard you dropped by this weekend,” you said as a greeting, a playful smile on your lips. “Looking for me?”

If the tips of his ears didn’t tinge pink, you would have guessed Shouto was completely unaffected by your words. 

“Mn.” He drew his attention away from your gaze and pointedly adjusted his cufflinks. “Good morning to you too.” 

You laughed, accepting you wouldn’t get anything out of your attempt at teasing. “Morning, Shouto. How was your weekend?” 

The cafe was quite busy this hour, but Miyazaki took over the other register to alleviate the stress (though, what she really said was so you and pretty boy—who happened to be rich rich—could talk). Whatever the reason, you were glad for a small break whenever you could get it.

“You could say it was busy,” he replied, sounding a bit tired. For the first time since you met him, you actually noticed how exhausted he looked. You wanted to put cucumbers on his eyes and lay his head down on your lap to coax him to sleep. Nonetheless, he smiled softly at you. “And yours? I hope you were able to have time to rest and relax.”

You nodded. “I just slept a lot and caught up on the shows I missed throughout the week.”

“The real way a weekend should be spent.” 

His voice was teasing but he didn’t sound mocking. Just...somewhat playful. There was something about his tone that made you want to hear it again.

“Something tells me you need a weekend away where you could just relax and do nothing,” you commented, tapping the back of your pen to your chin. “Do you not have any days off at work?” 

He considered this. “Depends what you mean by day off.” 

“If you have to ask that, that probably means you don’t have a day off, huh?” you said with a frown, holding your hand over your chest as you sighed dramatically. “You poor thing. Overworked and tired. Maybe I should steal you away one weekend and get you to just relax.” 

You were only half-serious.

“Maybe you should,” agreed Shouto, sounding full-serious.

“Maybe I will,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Maybe you could if you actually had his number… Then, feeling shameful you said, “But, ah, anyway, what can I get for you today? We actually have cheese danishes again!”

His face brightened. “You do? I’ll take five dozen.”

With a laugh you took down his order. You really weren’t sure where all these pastries were going when he bought it, but judging from his expression, you figured it must be somewhere good. 

“And for your drink?”

“This time I’ll have a large green tea with almond milk, please.” 

You nodded but tilted your head to the side in question. “No coffee with extra shots of espresso today?” 

“I add too much sugar and creamer to my coffee,” he admitted sheepishly. “And with all the baked goods I’ve been eating I realized I may have had an excess amount of sweets lately.” 

With an understanding laugh you patted his hand that was resting on the counter woefully. “I can definitely relate to that. If too many sweets are bad for you they shouldn’t have made it taste so good.”

Shouto glanced down at where your hands touched, an expression you couldn’t quite discern on his face. Averting your gaze, you quickly pulled your hand back. Was that inappropriate of you? Did he find it too pushy?

“Oh— Sorry about that,” you said, rubbing your elbow with your opposite hand. “Got a bit ahead of myself there.”

“No, it’s fine.” He blinked once. “I didn’t mind.”

Unsure if he meant anything by that and unsure if you were reading too much into things, you simply brushed the topic off and moved on to getting his order in telling him the price. 

“Paying by card again, I’m assuming?” you asked before hitting the appropriate button on the screen.

“Correct.”

By now the sight of the sleek and pretty credit card was one you grew rather fond of as he scanned over the payment terminal and signed his name. Was it weird you wanted to examine his signature more closely? Shouto seemed like the type of person who would have a fancy signature that somehow looked like art. 

As per routine, you told him his order would be ready for pick up at his right and, before he left the register, he thanked you and gave you another $100. 

Did it feel any less strange than the first time he tipped you? Not really, no. But you still weren’t going to complain about a generous tip from a willing customer.

Before he left with his cheese danishes and cup of tea in hand, he stopped by next to you with a small smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You grinned back. “Can’t wait, Shouto!” 

— ✩ —

This went on for a whole other week. By this point, he had given you over $1,000 in tip and you were starting to feel like you should give him something in return despite him assuring you he didn’t expect anything. 

When you told your friends about the nice guy you met while you were working and they asked for the details, the first thing they said in response to your situation was, “Sugar daddy?” 

Before they planted that thought into your head, you just took it as a rich businessman who hated the rich and believed in redistribution of wealth—you couldn’t complain about that. That made him even more appealing, if you must say. But once Kaminari and Ashido whispered those two words, you couldn’t help but see the comparisons. 

You had no issues with sugar daddies or sugar babies; as long as they were two consenting adults, what did it matter to you? It just wasn’t something you were looking for at the time and you didn’t want Shouto to get the wrong impression or involve yourself in something you weren’t ready to. 

As you commuted to work for your next morning shift, you told yourself today was the day you’d thank him one final time for the tips, but tell him you couldn’t accept anymore. You were sure he’d be understanding but you also hoped it wouldn’t deter him from coming to see you. That was the last thing you’d want. 

“Mrs. Miyazaki,” you said between customers. “When Shouto comes in, do you think I can step away from the register to talk to him for a little? I promise it’ll be brief!”

She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not a problem. Are you finally going to ask him out or something?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “Or something, yeah.” 

Thankfully, by the time Shouto arrived today, it was later than he normally came, meaning rush hour was almost dying down. 

“Good morning! Someone’s a little late today,” you teased. “Overslept?” 

“I wish,” he sighed wistfully. “I had a meeting early this morning and it just ended. Didn’t have a chance to pick up some coffee or pastries beforehand.” 

You frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope whoever was hosting the meeting at least provided you guys drinks and snacks!” 

He paused. “He did, but… I just thought yours were better.” 

Smiling at the compliment, you preened. “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised. And I’m glad you were able to drop by still. Would’ve missed you too much otherwise.”

Again, you were only half-serious.

“Hm. I would’ve missed you too.”

And again, he seemed full-serious. Not that you minded. 

After taking his order and watching him pay, you pulled him to the side, looking over at your boss so she knew what was going on. She gave you a brief nod as you turned your attention to Shouto. 

A lapse of silence went by and he spoke up, “Did you have something you wanted to say?” 

“Yeah, actually.” You wrung your fingers nervously, hoping you wouldn’t say anything to offend him since you knew his actions were coming from a kind place. “I just wanted to say… I’m not really looking for a sugar daddy right now.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “Pardon?” 

You stared at him, unsure what to say. 

“I— Sorry. I wasn’t… It’s not my intention to be a...sugar daddy either.” Shouto’s face flushed a bright pink that made your own cheeks warm up in response. 

“But the—the money? I just… I guess I thought…” You winced.

So he wasn’t trying to pick up a sugar baby… Well, this was awkward. But regardless, you think you’ve gotten close enough to him to the point where it would feel weird accepting money from him. 

“I’m sorry if I was unclear. It really is just a tip to show appreciation for your service here.” 

You shook your head. “No! Sorry, that makes sense! My friends just said… And then I…” you trailed off, feeling a million times more flustered than when you started. “Sorry about that. The sugar daddy mishap aside, I still wanted to say that I really appreciate the tips you gave, but I don’t think I can accept them anymore.” 

Slowly, he nodded, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. “I understand. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened!” you were quick to assure. “I really am thankful, but… I think we’ve gotten too close for me to be comfortable accepting that much money, you know?”

Shouto tilted his head to the side, listening intently. 

“Like,” you tried to explain, fiddling with your apron, “over the past few weeks I just think we’ve gotten to know each other more and I think of you as a friend of sorts now.” You peered at him through your lashes, hoping your words were making sense. “I think as a relationship develops—for me, at least—adding money into the mix can cause weird power imbalances if not communicated properly. And I just don’t want that for us.” 

He thought through your words for a while before agreeing. “I get what you mean. I wouldn’t want to unintentionally make you feel like you owe me anything, so if you’re not comfortable with it, I can stop.” 

“Thanks, Shouto,” you said with a beam, glad he was so receptive. Really though, what else did you expect? From your interactions with him you took him to be kindhearted and open. Of course he wouldn’t be upset over this. “But just to be clear, this doesn’t mean you should stop coming! Right? I don’t want to stop being your friend or anything!” 

With a small laugh, he nodded. “Sure. I wouldn’t want to part with my favorite cafe. And I’d like to keep being friends as well.”

Those words warmed your heart. You really were nervous about this confrontation earlier; you didn’t want voicing your opinion to mean ending your friendship. (Although, if you sharing what you were comfortable with was enough to end a relationship, then you supposed it was bound to be a toxic and stifling one in the long run and it was good to know in the beginning to end it before it could grow.) Turns out, however, that you didn’t even need to worry about that. He was understanding and sweet and you were glad to have gotten this out of the way.

“Well, as new friends,” you said, gently nudging his side, “maybe we should get to know each other more? Exchange numbers… Hang out outside of this cafe…” You ran through some suggestions, almost bouncing on your feet in excitement. “I mean, I know you’re always so busy and might not have much free time to hang out. But— If you’re ever free one weekend…” 

“I’d enjoy that,” he cut in, saving you from blabbering your mouth off and accidentally embarrassing yourself. “Didn’t you say you’d steal me away from work to relax? I’m still holding you to that.” 

The beginnings of a smirk formed on his face as he looked at your flustered expression. Was he teasing you?

You huffed, pretending to be insulted by his playful mocking. “Guess I’ll really have to do it then.” 

“Guess so.”

“Maybe you should give me your number first so we could plan it.” 

“Okay.”

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours, both of your adding your numbers to the contact list. Smiling, you held the phone in front of the two of you to take a contact picture of yourself for Shouto’s phone. To your complete surprise, he laughed before promptly following suit and taking a selfie for his contact image. 

“Cute,” you said when he handed you back your phone. 

“You too.” 

Placing your device back in your pocket, you looked at him, hand on hip. “Since when did you become such a smooth-talker? Am I going to have to guard my heart now?” 

His only response was a shrug, but you could see hints of a smile playing on his face. The two of you seemed to be smiling a lot lately, you couldn’t help but notice. 

“I should probably let you go to work now—and I should go back to mine.” You gestured to the growing line at the front of the store. Your manager looked like she had things under control, but you didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. “You should text me later though. If you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Shouto promised, picking up his drink and pastry boxes from the side counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. And… I’ll message you soon.” 

As you watched him leave the store, you were certain you had a silly look on your face as you stared in a trance. 

“I’ll turn my phone off silent just for you!” you said to his back, hoping he understood what a momentous occasion this was. Your phone was always on silent (unless you were playing a game, of course). But for Shouto, you could handle hearing the obnoxious ringtone and text tone. 

With an amused expression he nodded before waving goodbye.

Later on that day, at the end of your shift, you noticed a new message from a certain someone that made your stomach flutter.

Shouto: Hi there. It’s Shouto :)

You never knew those four simple words would be enough to keep the grin plastered on your face up until the moment your head hit your pillow to fall asleep. But, damn— Were you glad that happened to be the case. 

a/n: whY WAS SHOUTO AND Y/N EXCHANGING NUMBERS SO CUTE idk that scene got me all blushy and :DDD HFJDKSF like taking a selfie with shouto and getting his number? only goal in life BFHFGF,, also y/n said no more tips how we feeling? ;o 

what to expect in the next part:

an unwanted visitor ಥ_ಥ

shouto has a...proposition for y/n 

FLIRTING FLUFF SO MUCH CUTENESS U MIGHT CRY

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~

[spicysoftsweet]

A Thorn In The Side - Gojo x Reader

Summary: Infatuation enduring from high school is more of a problem than you or he think (~3.4k words).

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, yandere, wlw mention, gojo is a pos

A/N: Part of @suedebunn​‘s Hanahaki collab! 

When the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to have ever lived wakes up in the early am with the sensation of thorns scratching his throat and fullness in his stomach, he’s baffled.

Even more so when he doubles over in bed to cough profusely to the point of near emesis, shocking for a man who rarely gets sick. He stares blankly at a pillow covered in droplets of flecks of red, and his eyes widen with trepidation, until he realizes those large drops strewn across his bed come from flowers rather than blood.

He must be dreaming, Gojo Satoru tells himself, but the satiny feel of the scarlet petals between his fingertips is very real.

Or perhaps a curse.

“So you expect me to diagnose you over the phone?” 

Shoko pulled a drag of her cigarette as though for dramatic effect, blowing it out with a sigh, but continued to listen. She had to be up early anyway and ignoring Gojo would only make him more annoying in her experience.

“So what are your symptoms again?” she asked.

“Apparently my insides are trying to match my beautiful outsides~” he sang.

Shoko rolled her eyes, and as though he could see her, Gojo laughed loudly.

“In all seriousness, I’m turning into a garden. Coughing up flowers apparently.”

“Coughing up flowers, huh?” She leaned a little further against her balcony, her eyes setting on the early morning sunrise she could view from her high rise apartment. “Do you think it’s some type of curse?”

“It’s… different,” he replied, somewhat noncommittally. “I don’t think it’s cursed energy, actually.”

This was unexpected.

“What else do you feel?”

“Uneasy…”

It was Shoko’s turn to laugh. An interesting choice of words coming from him.

“Any ideas?” Gojo insisted.

“I mean, it could be some kind of undetectable curse. I’d know if I got to see you… How does your heart feel when you cough up the flowers?”

“It races.”

“Your mind?”

“Also races… lightheaded.”

“Any thoughts?”

“None.”

“As expected.” she teased, laughing again until she realized that for once, Gojo was silent on the other end of the phone. She scratched her head, then ran her fingers through her fingertips.

“Come in at 2pm today, okay? Don’t be late.”

---

“Well, you’re right,” Shoko stated, stepping back from the examination table, and crossing her arms as she set herself down on a stool to formulate her assessment. 

Her friend, already graced with the palest of color palettes, did actually look ill, dark circles prominent enough to match hers marring his porcelain skin. He sat, legs spread apart, and leaning onto the weight of his hands besides him, raising an eyebrow quizzically..

“It’s not cursed energy, alright,” she said, with a sigh. She stretched out her hand.

“You brought the sample, right?” 

Gojo, uncharacteristically a bit listless, tossed her the bag of vomited petals from this morning, covered in now dry saliva and other fluids. Not batting an eyelash, Shoko slipped on a pair of gloves and felt inside the bag, petals crumbling at her fingertips.

Definitely not cursed energy. She placed the bag on a disorganized counter behind her, making a mental note of scrutinizing it further under a microscope.

“Ideas?” Gojo asked after he’d decided that the time he’d given her to think was enough. It turned out the idea of being sick irritated him more than he expected. 

The very idea of being vulnerable made him slightly nauseous.

Shoko let out a chuckle that sounded more nervous than she had intended.

“My only other thought is Hanahaki disease.”

“Hanahaki?” Gojo repeated.

“Yeah,” she stated. Crossing her legs, she relaxed into her stool further as she watched the young man carefully. “Who’s the unlucky one?”

“You mean?”

“Who’s the unfortunate soul you’re in love with?” She asked again, waiting for his response. The truth was that she was quite shocked at the idea of Gojo being afflicted with Hanahaki, that he of all people could have such a pure, destructive form of love given his track history.

She’d known him long enough to know that his body count was near ridiculous.

He tilted his head, then burst into laughter.

“Myself, duh.”

“Well, auto-Hanahaki isn’t a thing, but I suppose if it was, you’d be the one to be afflicted with it.”

She decided not to press further. “Whoever it is, I’d recommend you settle your feelings as soon as possible,” she added. “People don’t usually die from this but you look surprisingly like shit so I’d be careful.”

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, hopping off the table and pulling back on his shirt.

Settling his feelings may be more complicated than either of the two of them expected.

---

You were in the middle of your drive home when Shoko’s name finally flashed on your dashboard. Grinning, you picked up on the car speaker, mischief in your voice.

“It’s 7:03 and you promised me you’d call at 7 sharp, babe. What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“You’re going to hold 3 minutes against me?” Her sultry voice filled your ears as you made the last turn between the grocery store and your apartment, and you hoped she’d be inside your home waiting for you so that you could actually hold something tangible against her.

“I did say I wasn’t going to tolerate you being late for anything anymore, didn’t I?” You teased.

“Bold declaration for someone who isn’t even home yet,” Shoko retorted.

In minutes, you were walking through the door, arms charged with bags full of groceries for dinner you’d planned to cook together. Shoko greeted you with a kiss on the forehead as you placed them on the counter.

“Did you miss me?”

You did, but you stuck out your tongue at her instead. Her hand intertwined with yours briefly before you separated to unpack items for dinner.

“I promise I’ll be less busy,” she offered as the two of you worked in tandem. Your stomach was already growling, so the sooner you had food on the table, the better.

“It’s no problem,” you replied, and you meant it only half-heartedly. It’s true she was less busy than a regular civilian doctor, but it seemed recently that her clinic was getting overrun with more and more curse victims. Things had been bad recently in the world, you figured. 

You were happy to step back from the world of sorcery, but small reminders like these persisted.

“Did you still manage to fit Gojo in today?”

She had complained earlier today that Gojo always managed to make a bad day worse.

“Mmm,” is what she offered over the sound of chopping vegetables. You understood that she couldn’t say more, on top of the fact that any discussion of Gojo was already a sore subject. It didn’t have to be, and it shouldn’t have been, but this was what it was.

“Hope he’s okay,” you offered, as you turned on the stove.

“He’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice now quieter than usual.

---

The first and last time Gojo fell in love was in the spring of his third year, he suddenly recalled in the middle of a tryst, as an upsettingly subpar blowjob allowed his mind to wander. The young woman whose gags sounded almost theatrical when compared to the amount of pleasure he was actually receiving was starting to get on his nerves, but instead he took matters in his own hands, wrapping her long ponytail around his wrist before guiding the back of her head so she took him deeper.

If she was gonna choke, she should commit to it.

He’d fallen in love with you at first sight. It was a strange feeling for him to immediately be enamored with someone upon first glance instead, having always been the recipient of many an awe-filled or fawning look.

You were a transfer from the sister school, already a rare occurrence, and what was even rarer was the fact that you both had little affinity to jujutsu and little interest in getting better. One could wonder why you even showed up in the first place, much less why you’d moved from one school to the other. 

You’d quit as expected just before graduation, but not before you caught his eye. 

“You’re pretty shitty at this,” he’d remarked, attempting to win you over with humor when he’d been assigned to you for both orientation and possible tutoring. “Of course, you can always ask me for help,” he added, flashing pearly whites at you.

He was the opposite of successful in wooing you.

“I suppose since this comes easy to you, this is just funny, right?” You’d quipped.

Your words cut more than both you and he anticipated, but it didn’t exactly matter. You were not interested in him, the way he was interested in you. 

But Shoko was different.

You became fast friends and upon your departure from the technical college, you’d remained in contact despite withdrawing from everyone else related to magic. 

Even if Gojo tried many times to either bring you back to this world you’d left behind or be part of your new one, you’d rebuffed him every time. Harshly. 

“I don’t know why you expect everyone to worship you,” was the last thing you’d said to him. “I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want to be part of this life,” you’d insisted. “Why would I change my mind just because you asked me to?”

You were right. 

And yet you loved Shoko.

The young woman whose name he’d forgotten’s face was now pressed against his pubic bone and she now began to squirm, slapping and scratching at him like some kind of trapped animal as she struggled to breathe, reminding him that he’d daydreamed for too long.

“Sorry,” he offered, as he released his grip, leaving her to sputter and choke. Looking at her, knowing that she was not you suddenly made him want to choke himself, to bring forth that impromptu garden of unrequited feelings.

He patted her on the back gingerly, and once it looked like she’d restabilized, pulled her in for another kiss. 

If only her lips tasted like yours.

---

Shoko’s hand glided against the curve of your hips, taking in the image of you sleeping softly on your side, facing her. She dipped down to kiss your nose; it was the only time the fact that she had such an issue with sleep benefited her, this ability to almost always wake up before you.

You looked incredibly peaceful while sleeping, and she had to admit this angelic view of you was even better than your features twisted in a pleasured mewl (not that it wasn’t a close battle).

There was a nagging concern in the pit of her stomach, however.

Gojo suffering from unrequited love could be a problem, if the object of his affections did happen to be you. But it had been years ago that he’d pursued you unsuccessfully, why present now?

Why present to her office of all people? Gojo could be inconsiderate, but not to this extent. 

But what if he didn’t know that this was what he was feeling? Suppressed feelings taking root and morphing themselves into the tangible he couldn’t ignore?

She sat up, resting her back against the backboard, the lack of a cigarette between her lips being palliated with the gnaw of her thumbnail. 

It couldn’t be. Not you. 

Please, not you.

---

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Shoko checked in about a week later.

Gojo didn’t share that he’d spent the entire morning in a coughing fit of petals, now definitely streaked with blood, and the entire last night vomiting enough flowers into the toilet that it had overflowed.

He didn’t comment on the entire scarlet sage plants with large green leaves that threatened to sprout from every orifice, not just his throat, but his ears and nostrils, possibly from behind his eyes.

He didn’t know what was next, only that it was getting worse.

The constant fire in the pit of his stomach, the shivers, the chills, the incessant flash of you running through his mind, your name moaned in the darkness, his body drenched in sweat.

The fact that he knew it was because he loves you and cannot find an alternative for you.

The fact that he must have you, and only you.

“Has it gotten better or worse?” Shoko asked.

“I’m fine,” Gojo reassured her, masking the exhaustion in his voice, and she made the mistake of believing him.

---

You awoke in darkness with an icy cold searing into your skin.

It took you a moment to let your eyes adjust to the light and for your body to resume the motor control it had briefly relinquished in sleep before you could reorient yourself. You were laying on ground of some sort, maybe hardwood which implied that you were in some kind of building. 

Your head throbbed viciously as you shifted slowly to a sitting position and you almost expected there to be blood as you ran your hands over the back of your head, checking for injury. But there was nothing, just the normal feel of your hair, and the steady thump of your temples in time with your pounding heart.

Looking around, your eyes soon fixed to the low light, not actual darkness to center on a figure in the center of the room.

You let out a gasp of surprise.

Gojo.

Not only had it been a while and he was the last person you expected to see, he looked stranger than he ever had.

He sat perched on a chair backwards, chin leaning on the top of the backrest. His head was tilted, and he watched you warily but fixedly through eyes that looked sunken into their orbits. Their clear blue was still sharp in the darkness.

His skin had taken on an almost ghostly cast to match his hair, and he was thinner than you remembered as though he had been slowly withering away since the last time you saw him. That was ages ago.

Your limbs froze in anticipation. You didn’t have to be a genius to recognize that whatever was happening or was about to happen was bad.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He stared at you blankly for a moment, unmoving. If he weren’t so extraordinarily fatigued, he would have sat up straighter in his chair and offered you a smile. You were still as pretty as the day he first laid eyes on you, after all. What a welcome sight.

“I guess I missed you,” he responded instead, quietly. 

Your teeth gritted as you flared up in indignation.

“Excuse me?”

He cut you off with a loud, exasperated sigh, mustering the little bit of energy he had left to run a hand through his hair.

“Listen, I thought I’d forgotten myself, but it turns out that I’m being betrayed by my own body.”

As though to add effect, a coughing fit began just at the end of his sentence, and you watched as he spat flowers into the palm of his hand, lowering them for you to see.

“And it seems like you’re the cause of this.”

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of bloody petals falling through his fingertips and hitting the ground.

He was completely out of his mind.

“I…,” you shakily got yourself up to your feet, not letting your gaze leave Gojo for a second. He didn’t get out of the chair, but he did shift so that he leaned back in the seat, a wicked smile on his face.

“You...?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You spat. “Where the hell am I and how did I get here?”

He finally did get up, although it was done in a dramatic, strained movement. He really had lost weight, you noticed, picking up the flash of pale wrists before he shoved his hands in his pocket.

“I know it sounds crazy but apparently, according to your girlfriend, I’m suffering from lovesickness.”

He bared more of his teeth now, looking more like a grimace than a grin by this time. “I didn’t believe it either, but then I started seeing you in my mind every single waking moment.”

In the split second it took for you to blink, he had crossed the distance between you, so that he was now in your personal space, the palm of his hand inappropriately caressing your face, as tender as you’d expect from Shoko.

And you immediately jumped back and backhanded him as hard as you could.

The crack of your hand was loud and exaggerated, reverberating in the room. For a moment, you froze in shock, surprised the slap had actually landed, before shaking out your now burning hand and following up with a hiss.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

Gojo’s icy blue eyes glint, demonic in their delight.

“That’s the feisty bitch I remember.”

---

It was nearing 24 hours since you’d failed to reply to Shoko’s text and the normally collected woman was terribly anxious.

She’d stayed at work late, and still, not a single message from you. 

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind returned.

What if it were you?

Gojo couldn’t be that insane, could he?

When she entered your home to find traces of red salvia scattered throughout your home, it only confirmed her fears.

---

“I don’t want to do this either. I mean it.”

It was hard to believe him when he seemed to savor every brush of the lips as he trailed kisses along your inner thighs, spread open with the force of his hands. Gojo had always been deceptively strong, even now, when it looked like he was wilting just as much as the flowers he coughed up. 

Your wrists were bound to a fixed point at the head of a foreign bed, and your ankles to the bedposts anteriorly to prevent you from fighting. Not that you would have been able to fight back anyway, but the severe fatigue permeating his very bones made him less willing to risk anything.

When his lips made it to your center to circle your clit, you writhed in disgust, forcing back the sighs of pleasure that would inevitably ensure.

“Y-you can’t - ah - make me love you…”

Gojo paused the swishing of his tongue to give you a look that reeked enough of apathy that it was almost startling.

“I’m aware, but there’s no harm in trying.”

---

“Where the fuck is she?”

Satoru had the ostentatiousness within him to receive the phone call on speaker, so that you could hear Shoko beg to find out your whereabouts.

“She’s with me,” he replied, calmly to her, holding the phone in one hand and pumping fingers in and out of your slippery cunt with the other. 

By this time, Gojo had gotten tired of your expletives which no longer retained the initial cute charm, so your screams for help were muffled by a gag over your own wet panties shoved into your mouth.

He’d been at this for hours.

There was a pause on the phone from Shoko’s end that sounded like something crashing to the ground, maybe a plate breaking.

Her tone changed immediately.

“P-please don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not.”

He glanced at you who glared back at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked even prettier when you were so totally helpless.

“I would never,” he added.

The pump of his fingers slowed but did not stop.

“This won’t fix you,” Shoko warned, almost in a low protective hiss, her own voice breaking. “This won’t fix anything, you bastard.”

He cut off the phone abruptly, and let out a sigh before shifting his attention back to you.

“Where were we?”

---

Maybe if I pretend, he’ll stop?

Or will he continue? Will I just affirm that he won?

His thrusts were relentless, as was the constant tugging at your hair, the teeth sinking into every inch of your skin, the moans and groans whispered into your ears or your bosom.

A violation in every sense of the word.

You were running out of tears.

The fact that it’s pointless, you and he both know it. Your true love knows it, that this is just an excuse to get back at you. For what? Rejection? 

He would die anyway. You would never return his feelings, if there even truly were any. 

He continued to rut into you, and flowers started to stain every inch of your bodies, covering them in a deep scarlet.

Red. Red. Red.

Blood. Rage. Power. Passion.

You probably didn’t need the restraints anymore. You had no fight left in you. 

Just the satisfaction, however small, that regardless of what he did to you, he would still eventually succumb to nature and perish in a bed of putrid efflorescence.

[soft--dragon]

You'll Smile Again

Word Count: 2,699

Warnings: Beginnings of a panic attack, anxiety, and facial dysmorphia mention (stay safe guys <3)

All interactions are platonic, don't you dare start shipping

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

It was going to be a bad day.

Ranboo knew the second he woke up, it was gonna be bad. His head was swimming and his body felt numb and cold despite the blankets thrown over him. The silence was suffocating, too loud and too quiet at the same time. He curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his middle tightly. It somewhat helped his building nausea, but it was fruitless in an attempt to recreate the feeling of a comforting hug. One sounded nice round about now.

He dreaded the idea of having to get up and being forced to look at a reflective surface, so he stayed on the couch, curled tight and wishing he could fall back asleep and wake up tomorrow. Sleeping away the day until he felt like he could stand and wouldn't keel over. Unfortunately, his mind was far too aware of the morning light streaming through the windows and the hunger rumbling through his stomach. Ranboo let out a pained sound, squeezing his eyes shut and shoved down the need to cry.

It was fine. It was fine. He...he was fine…he...

He wanted Tubbo.

Ranboo swallowed back a sob and blindly scrabbled at the cushions for his phone. His Luca wallpaper greeted him in a painful sear of light. He squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness and quickly opened his phone with his finger print. His contact list had come up before he realized what he was doing, clicking on Tubbo’s name and soon enough, the dialing sound met his ear. Instead of hearing the ringtone through their shared home like he was used to, it remained horribly quiet.

“Boo?” Tubbo’s voice suddenly came through the speaker. “Hey, I was about to call you actually, I was thinking about the vlog Tommy’s wanting to do and I wanted to get your opinions on some stuff-”

“Tubbo- w-where are you?”

There was a long pause on the other line, Ranboo’s slightly keyed up voice catching the older boy’s attention immediately.

“On my way to Nottingham big man...remember?”

Ranboo’s heart sank and he wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot. Tubbo had warned him last night he was leaving early in the morning, saying he may be gone by the time Ranboo woke up. “O-Oh...right…”

There was a rustling noise, no doubt Tubbo sitting up in his seat. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come back?”

“N-No, no” Ranboo quickly replied, wishing he’d had enough sense to think before calling his best friend, now he was inconveniencing him with his stupid problems. He squeezed his eyes shut and released a breath before attempting to speak again. “I’m okay- and anyway, Tommy’s been planning this meet up for weeks, he’d be gutted if you cancelled, he spent so much time making your schedules line up, and you’re probably already there-”

“Ranboo.”

Tubbo’s firm, unwavering voice made Ranboo’s ramblings catch in his throat, he shut his mouth with a sharp click of his jaw, hand gripping the phone shaking slightly.

“Y-Yeah?” He mumbled.

Tubbo sighed, worried but fond. “You know I’d drop anything to make sure you’re okay, right? And Tommy would understand, he knows about your anxiety and facial dysmorphia.”

The need to cry returned hard and fast, Ranboo just managed to catch himself before releasing a whine. “I’ll be okay Tubbo,” he whispered, “promise, I’m...I just need to…”

He was silent for too long, Tubbo waiting worriedly on the other side. “Boo?”

“Don’t cancel on Tommy, I’ll just take a rest day” Ranboo answered, fighting to keep his voice level. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Ran-”

“Toby.”

The use of Tubbo’s real name made the older teen fall silent. Ranboo practically never said it.

“I said I’ll be okay.” Ranboo knew it was ironic to say that while on the verge of breaking down but he couldn’t do this to Tubbo, not today. “Just go enjoy your time with Tommy, alright? I’ll be fine.”

Tubbo was quiet. It made Ranboo’s stomach roll uncomfortably the longer the silence stretched out. Then there was a sigh.

“The second you feel worse, I want you to call me. And I don’t care-” Tubbo cut him off before he could even protest, “-if you’re worried about disrupting me, call me, got it?”

How on earth Tubbo could be a chaotic gremlin to a sincere steady presence on the go was still a mystery to the tall teen. Ranboo let out a long, shuddering sigh as he pressed himself close to the couch.

“Okay” he agreed quietly.

“Okay” Tubbo repeated, quiet and kind. “Do you want me to stay on the call for a bit boss man?”

His thoughts immediately hissed at him, heart clenching at the thought of Tubbo having to listen to his pathetic whining-

“Ranboo.”

Tubbo’s voice cut through the haze of his toxic thoughts like a knife, yanking him back to the present. He had to clear his throat, shaking himself to properly answer. “Y-Yeah?”

“Did you hear me?”

Ranboo hugged his middle tighter with his free arm and hummed non committedly.

Tubbo softened his voice again. “I can stay if you want me to, I’m still half an hour from Nottingham.”

Ranboo squeezed his eyes shut. “Please?”

Tubbo immediately started talking, switching the subject to something more light hearted, a story about the time he hung out with Tommy and Wilbur. It got a few smiles and even a soft laugh out of Ranboo which Tubbo silently counted as a victory. He kept up the stream of chatter, allowing Ranboo to relax further and further into the couch, the tight constrictions in his chest easing up a bit. Tubbo never ran out of stories to tell, keeping his voice quiet but not without the same level of excitement that kept Ranboo immersed. He could almost pretend Tubbo was sitting on the floor beside the couch like he always did when Ranboo was having a bad day, keeping his mind distracted and heart light.

It seemed cruel when Ranboo faintly heard a whistle blow in the background of Tubbo’s end.

“Oh, I’m here” Tubbo’s voice was surprised.

Ranboo’s stomach rolled at his words, brow creasing as he knew that meant Tubbo had to leave. Still, he steeled his voice and tried to sound as calm as possible. “Better go then huh?”

Tubbo made a soft noise. “It’s not too late to cancel you know? I can still come home Boo, I don’t mind.”

Ranboo wanted to say yes, he wanted to say yes but he couldn’t do that. No. He refused to let himself ruin this meet up when Tommy and Tubbo seemed so excited to plan it out. “I’ll be fine.”

Tubbo didn’t sound convinced. “You sure?”

Ranboo huffed an exasperatedly fond laugh. “Yeah, I’ll be good Tubs.”

It was quiet again, dragging out until Tubbo sighed heavily. “Alright, I’ll stop hover parenting, just remember what I said okay?”

“I’ll call you” Ranboo murmured.

“You better” Tubbo growled but it wasn’t mean, instead sounding protective. “I mean it boo.”

Ranboo let a small smile lift his lips. “I know you do, I promise.”

There was more shuffling then Tubbo sighed, grumbling about a bag being too heavy or something. “Okay good, I am gonna be texting you to check in just so you know, and I’ll call later if you feel up to it. Um, I’ll let my parents know it’s a bad day and not bother you unless you text them- wait they’re out, so is Lani and Teagan, okay uh- Rocky is home, you need a hug, get him, he’s good at comforting people-”

Ranboo chuckled despite himself. “What was that about not hover parenting anymore?”

“Oh shut up” Tubbo laughed, only making Ranboo’s grin widen. “I’m just looking out for one of my best mates.”

It was how easily he said it that made Ranboo feel warm from the platonic affection. “I know...thank you.”

There was a fond huff. “Anytime at all Ranboo.”

After another moment of silence, Ranboo sighed with a small smile. “Go, the gremlin child is waiting.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, I’ll talk to you later Boo, try not to let your head mess with you too bad, okay?”

“I can try.”

“Love you.”

Ranboo smiled, his heart warming at the words. “Love you too.”

The call ended, blanketing the warm room in a cold silence again. Ranboo dragged a hand over his face with a deep sigh. Tubbo really was good at making him feel better-

His stomach growled.

Ah right, breakfast was a thing.

Ranboo pointedly ignored looking at anything that could show him his face. Tubbo had managed to yank him out and over the hurdle this morning, so he was determined not to let the boy’s efforts go to waste. He grabbed what he needed from the kitchen before retreating back to the couch and crashing onto the plush surface. He had meant to stay and do work on his new video for YouTube and plan out a new stream idea, but with his current state, he decided to take on that rest day he promised Tubbo. He threw on Luca, finding it was quickly becoming one of his comfort films and chewed slowly on his breakfast, wrapped up in the blanket again and becoming one with the couch. He tried to ignore the quiet loneliness despite the film, he was used to hearing chaotic laughter and batshit ramblings throughout the house. He shoved down the need to call Tubbo, he was fine. He...he didn’t need his friend... not yet at least.

He could handle being alone for a few hours.

Luca and Alberto were testing out their Vespa when an old, grouchy meow came through the house. Ranboo lifted his head from where he was now lying on the couch to see Rocky, Tubbo’s family cat, sauntering over.

“Hey Rocks” Ranboo smiled at the feline.

With a greeting “mrrp”, Rocky leapt gracefully onto the couch, stepping onto his chest and immediately slammed his face directly into Ranboo’s. It startled a laugh from the teen as the cat continued to smudge against him happily, purrs rumbling from his throat. He had avoided touching his face that morning the best he could, the sudden affection towards it was surprising, but not unwelcome.

“Hi buhud” Ranboo tried to lean away but Rocky persisted, clearly attention starved after not seeing anyone for a few hours. His whiskers skimmed across Ranboo’s cheeks softly, making him giggle and try to turn his head away. However, Rocky was determined to give Ranboo affection and instead rubbed under his jaw, his ginger fur dragging under his chin.

“Ohoho noho- Rohocks!” Ranboo squealed, quickly turning his head down to keep his chin pressed to his chest, trying to block the cat from brushing against the area.

Rocky gave a happy meow and pressed his forehead into Ranboo’s own, purring deeply now that he had access to his full face again. Ranboo giggled quietly, basking in the affection.The soft fur and loving touches on his face was comforting in its own way. It also tickled a bit, he didn’t even know his face was ticklish but apparently Rocky seemed determined to show him it was.

“Rohocky h-hahang ohon” Ranboo squeaked as the cat rubbed against his cheek, his whiskers just tracing his ear and nose. He melted further into the couch, the light sensations made him want to squirm but he couldn’t move without jostling Rocky, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset the cat. His hands were confined to the inside of the blanket, making him unable to fend off the ticklish touches even if he wanted to. He simply lay there, shifting his head around a little but enjoying the affection nonetheless. It was a nice change from the cold loneliness that had settled over the room before.

Eventually, Rocky seemed satisfied with his work on Ranboo’s face and brought his head back, not without giving Ranboo’s nose a small lick. It made Ranboo snort, grinning up at the ginger cat that almost looked smug.

“You done?” Ranboo chuckled.

Rocky meowed, probably saying ‘yes’, then moved down Ranboo’s torso, sitting on his stomach. He sniffed the blanket then started pawing at it, rearranging the folds carefully. Unfortunately, with where he was sitting, Rocky was massaging into Ranboo’s stomach and ribs gently.

It caused the teen to melt into the cushions, pressing his cheek into the back of the couch and giggling wildly into the plush material. “Nohoho Rohocks- ehehehehe!”

Rocky dug his claws softly into Ranboo’s side, massaging his sides in a kneading motion. Ranboo squeezed his eyes shut, happy giggles spilling free. Laughing felt so nice after wallowing in misery for the whole day, the tickling soft and while unintentional, was still nice.

Ranboo suddenly squealed, curling in on himself slightly as one of Rocky’s paws lightly brushed over his lower belly. The cat paused, ears flicking as Ranboo broke into a fit of breathy titters. He then purred and focused on his lower belly, taking the laughter for a sound of joy.

Ranboo managed to wrench a hand free of the blankets, pressing it to the back of his mouth to muffle his squeaky giggles. “Rohohockehehey! Ohoho gohohosh- whihihiy?”

The cat only responded with a pleased meow, shifting his paws to the sides of Ranboo’s stomach. Ranboo’s hand suddenly dropped from his pink cheeks to gently cup Rocky’s back in an attempt to bear the sensations. His plan was flawed however, as Rocky turned his head and rubbed his cheek against Ranboo’s thumb, his whiskers dragging over the back of it and making Ranboo squeak in laughter. All the while, still kneading the blanket.

“Noho- cohohome ohohon Rohohocks-” Ranboo whined but his soft laughter was happy and Rocky seemed to understand that as he purred gaily.

Rocky’s paws went to knead at his lower ribs, slow and methodical and keeping Ranboo in a state of giggly hysteria. He squirmed lightly from the sensations, trying not to jostle Rocky too much. He was surprised at his own resolve to stay still, the most extreme reaction so far being lightly kicking his feet when Rocky stayed in a sensitive area for too long. Rocky was almost too good at pulling reactions from him though, listening to when he giggled quietly or loudly, what made him move more and what made him melt. It wasn’t long before Rocky was keeping his pawing at the middle of his stomach, slow and gentle, keeping Ranboo laughing softly, not uncontrollably.

A few minutes of the gentle massaging made Ranboo sleepy and warm, relaxing into the touch and releasing breathy giggles. He still craved a hug, he’d ask Tubbo when he got back, but Rocky’s repetitive, and slightly ticklish touch had soothed him into a blissful peace. It was so much better than the toxic battle in his head that kept him feeling weighed down. Cats were pog, what more needed to be said?

Rocky then slowed to a stop, sniffing at Ranboo’s hoodie for a moment before nuzzling the material adoringly. The feline waddled back up Ranboo’s chest and lay down, tucking his paws underneath his body. He then lowered his head and shoved it underneath Ranboo’s chin, purring happily. Ranboo giggled as the cat’s whiskers brushed across his neck and jaw again, finding himself relaxing into the affectionate touch easily. Tubbo was right, Rocky was good at comforting people. He owed the cat a lot of treats and hours of cuddles.

He gently pressed his chin into Rocky’s head affectionately. “Thanks Rocks” he murmured.

The feline gave a quiet ‘mrrp’, making Ranboo giggle again. He let his eyes slip closed, melting into the couch and sighing in contentment. The audio of Luca, and Rocky’s rhythmic purring made his drowsiness catch up to him, his sleep schedule was gonna be messed up tonight but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt lighter than he had that morning, and Rocky was warm and grounding, made him feel loved.

Ranboo fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[yundix]

Hiii<3 First, I wanna say that I REALLY LOVE your writing omg😭😭😭💘💘💘 and also, Can I request Yuzuha with a Sukeban (You know? Like, fem delinquents) s/o pretty please?🥺 (Sorry for my weird english😭)

Troublemaker

Yuzuha x Fem!Delinquent Reader

Contains: Fluff, fluff, more fluff, my love for Yuzuha shining through this post

Notes:First off, sorry for taking so long to post something! Inspiration comes and goes so fast for me, and when it goes it's really hard for me to write. But, when I got this request my heart went "LETS GO HOE" and here we are!

Anyways, thank you for requesting this! And I'm so happy you like my writing 🥺 I've been so iffy of my works. And your english is fine! Don't worry at all love, enjoy!

(Ngl I forgot if she was in a gang herself but-)

We all know that Yuzuha knows a lot about delinquents, considering she has two brothers who are both delinquents themselves

So usually she wasn't surprised or scared seeing them around

But one day she saw you, sitting on a park bench in some uniform, face beaten and blood running down your face

Upon closer expection, she saw the logo of a gang on your top, and it made her eyes widen just a bit

She's never seen a female delinquent before, so you were a sight to see

Noticing her form, you tilted your head and smiled at her, even though you felt terrible

"Am I that good looking?"

She learned that you were a somewhat well known delinquent from your gang and some members from anothet gang attacked you

IMMEDIATELY friends. I don't make the rules ♡

And your relationship grew from there

You guys clicked instantly, although Yuzuha was hesitant at first because at the time she was still enduring her eldests brothers abuse

Once you found out about that though, you were so insistant on getting your gang to beat the shit outta him, but she declined many times

You? Protective gf but not gf mode ON

You'd fight anyone to protect her, over the months you knew her, you found yourself becoming happier with the thought of seeing and being around her

Eventually, after the whole Christmas fiasco and you dotting over her and her brother, you eventually came to terms that you liked Yuzuha

Nah cause Hakkai saw it from miles away 💀 and when he told Mitsuya about it he laughed

They bet on who'd confess first

You were the one who ended up confessing, and it was on accident

Knocking on the familiar door of Yuzuhas and Hakkais home, you leaned against the wall and groaned. Your head was spinning, you barely remembered your way here.

The door opened, revealing none other than Yuzuha herself. She took one look at your battered state before ushering you inside, her light scolding falling on deaf ears.

As she pulled you along to her room, you simply stared at the back of her head with a smile. 'Pretty hair...'

You were sat down on her bed, and she quickly grabbed her first aid kit and went to work.

"Honestly, you scare me half to death with the amount of times you've showed up here looking like hell." Yuzuha huffed while dabbing rubbing alcohol onto your cheek.

You only hummed, closing your eyes with a grin.

"I'm just glad you're okay." You mumbled, temporarily shocking the other girl. She shook her head, thinking it was just the adrenaline and going back to patching you up.

"Those fuckers deserved it anyways...talk shit, get hit. They shouldn't of had your name in their mouths." Yuzuha slowed her movements, eyes meeting your lidded ones. You fought someone over her?

Giggling like a school girl, you leaned into her hand and sighed. At this point Yuzuhas face was burning red, your actions throwing her off.

Eventually you were all patched up, now borrowing a pair of Yuzuhas clothes. You wandered off into the kitchen where said girl stood, a cup of water in her hand. She held it out to you and you gladly accepted it, gulping it down and setting it aside.

Staring at Yuzuhas form, you noticed her avoiding your eyes.

Pushing off the counter, you stalked over to her form and hugged her, leaning your head against her shoulder. This wasn't new for either of you, with you being the more affectionate one. But it always made the girl blush.

"Thanks for always taking care of me Zuha. I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes with y'know, the fights and all. I'll treat you to something tomorrow, whatever you want." You couldn't see her face but Yuzuha felt like she was gonna burst.

On cloud nine? Yes, but also ready to have a heart attack.

Yuzuha chuckled, "is that a date?" She asked as a joke to ease her embarrassment.

You stepped back to face her, feeling your own cheeks warm up.

"Well I am madly in love with you so, if you want it to be."

Please that was so bad

Anyways, after y'all get together, your relationship is still pretty much the same but you're a lot more affectionate

Yuzuha goes mother mode whenever you get injured

You bring her along to your gang meetings occasionally, and everyone respects her (and if they didn't you'd stomp their face in)

She sees you fighting and 😳 miss take a picture it'll last longer

You offered her to join you and your gang but she declined, which you understood

Anyone messes with her? We all know Yuzuha can handle herself but you'll already be 2 steps ahead of her ready to handle it

LATE 👏 NIGHT 👏 DATES

Since school and the gang usually takes up a big portion of your time, you usually aren't available much during the day

When you are though, you're obviously by her side

But when you don't have any time until the later hours of the night, you end up running to some 24 hour convenient store and grabbing all y'alls favorite snacks before heading to her and Hakkais place

Your dates usually consist of either self care nights and pampering, or watching movies under a blanket fort and cuddling with all the snacks you brought

Your hands are calloused from all the fighting you've done, but Yuzuha loves playing with them while laying with you, or just doing it absentmindedly

It gives you butterflies don't ask

Teasing her all the time

It's basically ritual for you to do

So worth it when you see her flustered face and reactions

Everyone in your gang knows y'all are a thing and they think y'all are adorable

Hakkai approves 👍

If something happens to you during your fights and you end up hospitalized, she's by your side the entire time there

She's worried sick and once you're getting better she's relieved but scolds you for being so reckless

Bans you from any gang fights until you're 100% better

Still a win for you since you get to relax with her

Y'all are so in love with each other

BEST RELATIONSHIP

You wish that was you huh? So do I 😭

MAN I'd give up everything to be with her

Also sorry if this went off the rails of what it was originally supposed to be but I couldn't stop myself </3

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

I love modern au. Or any “everything is fine, no one died, it’s just a fever dream” au. Half of me is thinking, damn maybe I should answer this serious- LOL HAHA no. That’s not happening. Time to crack my knuckles and let my brainworms take over again.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. I want to switch up my characters from the last brainworm post but I included Kaeya and Diluc.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to twistedwishes. Hey! I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot lately and thanks for the support 💕💕 I hope things are going better for you and you’re doing alright^^ I feel kinda bad for making appreciation posts on crack fics but hopefully this is somewhat funny haha. 

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Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

  @mikeysbike @hanniejji@unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife  @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​

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Diluc

Absolute pretty boy who has braincells, but only if Kaeya is not there. In his mind, Kaeya’s presence makes his room loose 40% of their common sense. He can’t prove it just yet but he’s working on it. He majors in accounting but also has a minor in marketing, logistics’ management, fia- he majors everything business related. He’s going to become the next Elon Musk through smarts or by getting the competition drunk. There can be no contest if he’s the only candidate. He’s actually a hard working guy that overworks and stresses way too much. You have daily “Diluc recharge” evenings where he just hangs onto you while you go through your day.

“Don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” except there is no coffee - he drinks grape juice out of juice boxes and his only energy boost is when he meets up with you - and that’s his constant mood. So he usually only hangs around you and Jean, since she has childhood friend status and is actually an angel. By default, Lisa is added and Diluc doesn’t mind her but if he see’s Kaeya, it’s full on war paint mode. If he's not busy with work or studies, he's usually with you either in your dorm or his apartment.

He has a fanclub and he seriously hates it and tries to do everything in his power to get Ningguang to take it down. Shouldn’t this be against his rights? But she refuses for whatever reason and makes a whole speech about free will. No matter what he does, someone manages to take a picture and it get’s printed in the university’s newspaper. The only bonding time he has with Kaeya is every Monday, where they collect and burn all the universities newspapers before anyone can get their hands on it. You always bring marshmallows to make smores during their arson activities.

“When I graduate I’m going to burn this school down to the ground. That’s not a threat it’s a promise.”

Ningguang

Is secretly the leader of the Diluc fanclub - not that she likes Diluc, she’s in a questionable platonic poly marriage with you and Beidou - but it was the easiest way to gain funds for the student council. Which she is the president of, so rip Diluc the fanclub stays. Ruthless business woman I tell you. But she can run in heels so her danger factor rises by at least 20%.

Majors in social sciences and law but more specifically the political science & government. She saw the Imperial State Crown that the Queen of England wears and says yes, that’s mine now. If she’s not with Beidou and you planning on “how to infiltrate the state government just for lols”, then she’s with Keqing, Ganyu, and Zhongli discussing student council things. Should they or should they not tell the student body that they can see everyone’s search results? Sit back and relax as the school goes into chaos. 

She’s probably the scariest person on campus No, she is the scariest person on campus. She’s the scariest person on campus. But secretly she’s popping 20 aspirins just to make it through a night. She has the digestive system of steel. She still holds the title of "seriously do not try and beat her in a drinking game it's never going to happen" and that's her proudest achievement in life but sadly she can’t put it on her resume. Kaeya is still trying to beat her out of spite but so far it hasn't been working. You’re seriously concerned for her when she get’s challenged but Beidou gives you a way-to-hard slap on the back and cheers her on. If Ninngguang somehow get’s alcohol poisonings she’ll somehow find away to make a profit out of it.

"I'll let him die, I'll get the insurance money."

Kaeya

One day he chugged too much mouth wash, passed out, and somehow woke up in university majoring in law. His idea is that if he is apart of the law, he can therefore stand above it. To be fair, his only goal in life is to say “I am the manager” and he can go live the rest of his life in bliss or as a hermit. He’s secret best friends with you but wouldn't be caught dead beside you. He will stab a bitch if you ever get hurt but will still trip you on the way home. Seriously, you have no idea why people find him attractive. Your guess is it’s the eye patch or the clap of his ass cheeks that keeps alerting everyone.  

He’s apart of the newspaper club and if anyone asks: No, he has no idea who keeps taking all the newspapers and burns them in the back of the campus. Originally, he joined because he was nosy and needed to join some type of club for his resume. He sometimes feels bad for his junior assistant Amber because he keeps tricking her and says that Diluc is secretly a demon that is trying to steal all the jobs and is apart of the lizard government hell bent on eradicating the human race. He even brought out a whiteboard for this joke, he’s dedicated to his job ok? 

The type of guy to try and be humble and say his work is “okay” but will choke a bitch if anyone agrees. He tends to leave everything last minute and says that it’s his drug since actual drugs could land you one year in prison and a maximum penalty of $2,000. You have to awkwardly hold in your concerned mother head shake when you see him speed running his assignment literally right when the professor is walking around to check if students finished. 

“I was taught how to lead not to read.”

Mona

Broke wallet #2. Zhongli is broke wallet #1 but Childe simps for him so is he really a broke wallet at this point? In this essay, I Mona Megistus, will explain why I have the rights to the title “Broke Wallet #1″...

Believes that astrology should be an actual career path but refuses to take astronomy as her major. I can read the stars not a textbook that tells me how to calculate the mass of the sun divided by the fucks I give. Instead she went into Philosophy and cries to Albedo, who is an actual prodigy genius- sir lend some braincells to everyone else please?, that her professor keep turning her paper down because “star reading” is not an academic source.

Fischl wants her to join the occult club because, surprisingly, Mona is very good at telling people’s fates through her crayon sketch ouija board. She thinks first year Fischl is cute but is put off by the cosplay roleplay that she has going on. She would join except that stupid hat wearing gremlin in her lit class would make fun of her if he found out.

You gave her half your lunch one day and bought her a doughnut "because she seemed upset" and "out of the goodness of your heart" whatever the hell that means. She thinks you pensioned it but once that thought comes she takes a bite. Poison from a doughnut is not the worst way to go out, classes are hard enough. She’s waiting for the lord to strike her down anyways. 

“Its not about passing, its about doing better than everyone else.”

Venti

Slept through most of highschool and people question how he got into university. He’s a music major (wow how fucking original is that), and if anyone asks him to serenade someone or just do anything, he’ll do it for the right price. Or if you buy him alcohol because he still keeps getting ID checked. He’s banking on Kaeya actually becoming a lawyer or being on good terms with Diluc so he can finally stop being arrested for looking like a toddler.

Takes one step into classes and quickly nopes out and goes back to bed. Professors have no idea how he hasn't dropped out or failed. He just has some god given talent. He does whine at you to pretty pretty please with a cherry on top tutor him because you're such an angel and would never leave your poor but awesome best friend hanging right? He needs to get this essay down but how he is suppose to explain how the number 10 is symbolic and connects to the universe or the meaning of life. Do you think he can just say it’s apart of his culture and make up some random myth to pretend it looks like he knows what he’s doing? 

He’s honestly going with the flow and put his brain on the back burner all of highschool and only now realizes wait, I actually have to use my brain?

He’s been banned from most club chats since Venti has the no chill card. Someone says “lol I look ugly today.” and he’ll respond "yup, you look like a cow." and he get’s banned. Zhongli keeps a speed run timer on his phone just to document these occasions.

"Sad spelled backwards is das and das how it be sometimes."

Childe

An actual dumbass that somehow does well. He eats sandwiches with the crust off, this heathen. Surprisingly he’s studying to become a physical therapist but most of his experience has come from breaking his own bones. You’re scared how he's going to be if he actually becomes a therapist. If he'll make bets with his patients or try to one up whatever crazy injury they get into. Everything is a challenge to him that sometimes the best way to deal with Childe is to knock him out. 

This man really knows the way to a Zhongli’s woman's heart. Through micro transactions. Mona saw him accidently drop $20 and just shrugged and walked off. She has never been both spiritually and physically offended in her life. She did take the $20 though. As much as you hate leeching on Chile when he’s basically a walking wallet that probably uses bills as tissue paper, you can’t help but give him puppy eyes while planning on how to get into his will. If he even plans on having one, he might honestly write “whoever wins in a gladiator style duel in my funeral’s tournament, they will get my fortune.”. 

Any sport the university offers Childe is probably in it. Which is how he met Zhongli, challenged him to a fight, proceeded to have his ass handed to him, got a backhanded compliment, and screamed to you he was in love and how he found his soulmate. He's secretly very sappy and has cried and watched every Disney and Pixar movie at least 28 times.

"IM NOT TOO SPICY! I’M A TINY BIT ABOVE MILD IF ANYTHING!”

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God if it isn’t Scaramouche, it’s Childe that ruins the aesthetic. This is why I hate you. Why do you people enable me like this, it isn’t even good. This is pretty much a @ yourself moment and I vibe hard with Venti. This entire post was just to make a joke about the clap of Kaeya’s ass cheeks alerting the guards.

This week might slow down since I have classes and assignments. My reply’s are gonna be late too, sorry;; (oh and thank you to everyone that was so supportive and nice when I mentioned it. All of you. Beautiful 💕💕 )

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Eight / Ristretto

W/C: 5.1k (holy shit)

Warnings: language, arguments and tears, lots of feelings, Javier learns how to talk his feelings out, SMUT 18+, dirty talk, open discussion of sexual themes, oral sex (m and f receiving), protected PIV sex, f e e l i n g a

A/N: I went off with this one. hope y’all like it too ;)

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Ristretto: espresso made with about half the amount of water but the same amount of coffee as a regular espresso. ristretto in Italian means "restricted," or that the amount of water used to brew the espresso is restricted.

Javier’s on the couch, lying down with his back to the living room. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not; you can’t really see his face. It doesn’t matter. You’re a little hurt by the fact that he left you in your sleep to rest alone on the couch again. You thought you heard the shower running late last night, while you tossed in your sleep, and it seems that it wasn’t just a dream. Javier’s thick hair is still damp, leaving a wet spot on the pillow beneath his head.

You move about the kitchen, getting something to eat, and he doesn’t stir. He must be asleep, you conclude. Wrapped in a robe and leaning against the counter, you consider what you’ll say to him when he wakes. When you’re not even sure what you’re feeling, it’s hard to decide on the proper thing to say.

Maybe he planned on coming back to your bed before you woke. Maybe you moved too much in your sleep. Whatever the reason is, you feel slighted and offended. The whole time he’s been here, you’ve worried he doesn’t like you as much as you like him. Hell, you’ve said you love him and he didn’t say it back.

The insecurity begins to wrap itself around you like the warm material you wear. It’s stifling. What you want most is to walk over to the couch and shake him awake, to chew him out and demand to know his reasoning. But you know it’s stupid. There’s surely a valid reason, and this isn’t even that big of a deal anyway. The conflict of anger towards him and towards yourself makes you give a little grunt of frustration before you stalk off and back to bed. Maybe he’ll come back.

Sleep isn’t coming back, no matter how hard you try. Tossing and turning, you find yourself laying on your back and staring at the ceiling, your sheets strewn around your body from your fitful attempt to sleep again. Maybe it’s been ten minutes; maybe it’s been an hour. Your body is far too worked up to sleep, even as your brain commands it to relax, as you remind yourself that you’re being irrational.

Footsteps come from the living room. Javier’s awake. For now, you try to fake being asleep, pulling the blankets around yourself and rolling onto your side, facing away from the door. The footsteps make their way to the bathroom then into your bedroom, walking over that creaky spot in the floor that makes the boards groan.

You think you can hear him getting dressed; the drawer of your dresser opens, the one with a squeaky wheel, the one you cleared for Javier to use while he stays here. There’s a rustling of clothes. He’s changing into something other than his pajamas. There’s a little light in the room, the early hours of a December morning filtering their dull glow through your curtain.

He must still think you’re asleep or he’d be talking to you, you hope. The movement stops for a moment before footsteps fall on the floor, making their way closer to your bed. He stops and looks down at you, watches your presumed sleeping form before he kisses your forehead softly. His lips are gentle against your skin. The tickle of his mustache makes you want to chuckle, to sit up and kiss him properly. But as quickly as he bends down, he’s just as quickly gone from your room, shutting the door behind him.

You sit up and groan in annoyance. You can hear the front door open and close, and with that, Javier is gone.

That irrational part of your brain is worried he’s leaving permanently. Why else would he slip out while you’re still asleep? He’s yet to go anywhere, really, without you showing him the way around here. Then your rational brain takes over: he left all of his belongings besides the clothes on his back and his wallet when he left the apartment. He’s surely not going to leave everything behind.

You’d planned to spend the day doing something with him. The two of you hadn’t exactly decided on what, but it was implied that since you aren’t working today, you’d spend the time with him. It’s still somewhat early, you roll over and groan as the alarm clock reads it to be 8:00 AM. There’s still time for him to come back; maybe he’s just getting the both of you coffee.

It’s pure boredom, like watching paint dry. You want him to come back. You want to ask him why he didn’t stay in your bed last night, why he left this morning. Why he’s been gone increasingly long. The clock in your kitchen ticks, ringing into the living room with its annoying precision. Each little click of the second hand makes you want to smash that damn thing.

The hours pass and pass until it’s late afternoon. You’ve done nothing all day, waiting for Javier to return. You debate several times whether or not you should start a task, but then conclude he’ll probably be back soon. So you wait, watching the daytime television, reading a book, washing dishes. It’s all menial tasks, and eventually it’s 4:00 PM when he returns.

When he opens the door, his eyes find yours and his face falls. “Hi.”

“Where the hell were you?” You ask, standing and walking to him, arms folded beneath your breasts. “I have been waiting around all day for you. You’ve been gone for how long and didn’t even call or tell me you were leaving.”

“I didn’t leave a note?” He asks, face showing his confusion. “I thought I left a note.”

“No, you didn’t, Javier,” you tell him sharply, voice snappy and quick. “Why were you gone all day?”

“I could’ve sworn I left a note,” he mutters, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Javi,” you snap. “Just… where were you?” He doesn’t look at you, but then he does and his eyes show the fear and terror of an ashamed child. He mutters something you can’t hear.

“So the man who’s never held back a single thought is silent?”

“Avoiding you!” He finally bursts, tearing off his jacket and walking into the kitchen. His back is to you, too flustered to even look at you. “You are driving me fucking crazy and you don’t even know it.”

The words break your heart. You freeze in place and feel heat pricking in your eyes. It’s your worst fear. “I am?”

Javier turns at the weak sound of your voice, the panic setting in his chest. “No, no, not like that.” He rushes over to you, putting a hand on each of your forearms. “No, hey, look at me, baby. That is not what I meant. Not…”

“Then what?” You ask, face hot and body nearly trembling. You’ve never heard Javier mad before and you hate it, hate the way his voice sounds when it’s laced with anger and hate it even more when you can feel guilt in his tone. “What other way is there?”

He’s quiet for a moment as he collects his thoughts, and you’re just about to twist out of his arms and slap his face before he speaks. “Your… body. You.”

“What?” You ask again, desperately confused.

“God, you don’t even get it,” he laughs and stands up straight again, running his hands through his hair. “Do you not see how fucking hot you are? Do you not feel the way I’m literally aching for you?” He walks towards the couch and you follow. You’re about to ask the same question again before he turns to you and bites his lip. “I cannot get my fucking mind off how hot you are and it’s making me go fucking insane, baby.” He takes one of your hands, kissing your knuckles. Anything more intimate would make him burst.

The words make your body flush with a different heat, one building in your core first. “And how is that?”

“Do you know why I’ve been sleeping on the couch?” He asks, sitting down on the couch and you follow him. You shake your head. “Because of how bad I want to fuck you. I knew if I got in that bed with you I’d get turned on against my own will, and… I’m a fucking coward. I should’ve asked what you want, what-”

You cut him off. “Ask me now, Javi. Do it.”

He breathes deeply then looks at you. “I don’t even know how to ask it.”

“Try it.”

Another deep breath. “Do you want to…. are you ready to…” he winces at himself. Javier is one of the most widely known playboys in Bogotá and yet he can’t bring himself to ask you this. He can’t pull out his seductive voice because it’s you and he doesn’t want to fuck this up. “What do you feel for me? Are you… attracted to me… sexually?”

Looking at him in his eyes, staring into the beautiful brown, you force your thoughts to converge into something you can verbalize into words. This isn’t what you wanted from the day, but you suppose this talk had to come. “Well, I… I love you, Javi. You know that, right?” You ask, cupping his face.

He takes your palm and kisses it, nodding. “But… I don’t know if you really know who I am if you think that I don’t want you. I thought I’ve made it abundantly clear. I’m not some innocent little virginal thing, Javi. I’ve been thinking the same thing about you. That whole thing has got to be in your head, because I am extremely attracted to you. You’re so fucking hot, truly. I haven’t initiated anything because I’ve been waiting for you to. I thought you would. Hell, I would’ve slept with you on the first date if I didn’t have work in the morning,” you chuckle, though it’s hard to be humorous now, with the weight of a sob stuck in your throat. “You should’ve just asked me.”

Javier nods as he listens to your words, processing and internalizing the meaning behind them. He should’ve, and he’s about to say it but you speak. “Now… please. Tell me what you feel for me. Don’t hold it back.”

He gulps and looks at your hand, still wrapped in both of his, collecting his own scattered thoughts. “Well… you know I haven’t had a committed relationship in what, ten years? And I left that woman at the altar.” You’ve heard this story. He told you in full detail, everything that happened with Lorraine. “Then I went to Colombia. I’ve… God, I’ve lost track of how many women I fucked. Just whoever’s there, you know? But I never got to have a relationship with any of them, because I… well, I was scared. I didn’t wanna fuck up again. And Colombia’s not the place to have a love life anyway, not when you’re a government gringo trying to take down the guy a lot of the people actually fucking liked at first.”

“Javi,” you remind him. “Please… about me.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles awkwardly. “I guess… I wanted to fuck you at first, but I forced myself to think that I didn’t want to, so I didn’t ruin it and feel like I did with all the girls back there. Maybe... it’s been a long time since I was quizzed on it, but wasn’t the psych term for it called projection? When you imagine someone else having your feelings so you can deny that they’re your own?”

You nod, leaning against him and setting your head on his shoulder.

“I’ll stop the spiel. I’m being a pretentious asshole with it. I think you’re really attractive and I’ve been getting sexually frustrated because I thought you didn’t want to fuck me. But… I guess you do.”

This lets a real laugh resonate from your chest. “I do,” you chuckle, nuzzling in closer. “So… why didn’t you stay in my bed last night?”

He groans. “Fuck. You were just so close. I could feel your body and I felt disgusting for thinking the things I did about you. God, you had my arm squished between your tits, and I could feel you through your panties and pajama shorts… ”

“Is that why I heard the shower?”

“I’m 40 goddamn years old, and you’re so fucking hot you made me get turned on just by cuddling up to me,” he chuckles and kisses your head. “Like a teenager. I tried a cold shower to get rid of it but I couldn’t. So I took care of things myself and went to the couch to sleep because I felt that I didn’t deserve to sleep next to you.”

His words melt your heart. “Big sexy manwhore was too afraid to seduce me?” you tease.

“It was two in the morning. And, like I said, projection,” he chuckles.

“We’re dating, right? Together. You’re allowed to think about me like that, Javi,” you remind him, turning his chin to look at you. “In fact, I want you to.”

You’ve finally broken his will. The words do something to him, the way you said it… I want you to. For the first time with you knowing, his mind wanders and his eyes trace from your face to the soft skin of your neck, to your collarbones and the swell of your breasts. “I can do that,” he murmurs, feeling a chill rush through his body.

God, you could moan at the sound of his voice alone. “You’ve been holding back this long,” you mutter back, hands finding his shoulders as you pull yourself to straddle him. “Let go, Javi. Please.”

He’s so fucking close to doing it. His willpower is hanging by a thread, but he wants to be certain. “You’re sure?”

“Please,” you ask, the desperation in your voice emphasized by the look in your eyes, the way your hips involuntarily rock against his. You’ve never had a man look at you with the hunger and the ferocity in Javier’s eyes. You’ve never driven a man to jerk off in the shower at the thought of you, and it gives you a feeling of power and confidence to know he wants you like this.

Within a split second, the power is no longer yours. Javier takes your lips against his, kissing you with a passion and a fire burning in his chest. It’s harsh and sloppy but perfect, and you immediately submit to his wishes, grinding down onto his lap and moaning into his lips.

You’re too damn perfect. Your lips against Javier’s make him moan helplessly, the way you tug on his bottom lip with a teasing nibble and moan again as his tongue pushes into your mouth. You break away to look at him, to admire how far gone he is just from getting to grind on you, like a teenager again. “Can I show you how much I want you, Javi?” You ask, letting your voice drop lower and your tongue dart out to clean your messy lips.

He groans, unable to form words. He nods frantically, and you smile a little. Giving him one last sloppy kiss, you stand from his lap and get on your knees in front of him. “Is this okay, baby?” you ask, your fingers already undoing his belt buckle and sliding it out.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans, and you can already see how hard he is through the jeans he wears. He helps you, unbuckling and unzipping the pants before lifting his hips to work them down to his knees, where he knows you can take them from there.

Daring to tug down the waistband of his boxers, you encircle his dick with your fingers and pull it out. You shudder at the sight, biting your lip and shifting your hips against the floor. He’s above average length, but the thickness makes you squirm in anticipation. “Javi,” you breathe, wetting your lips and gulping. You look up at him with big eyes. “You’re gonna make my jaw hurt,” you flirt, and the enthusiasm on your face makes him twitch in your hands.

It’s been a while since you’ve done this, but your excitement more than makes up for it. You reach up and undo the buttons of his shirt, while he lifts his hips again and wriggles his boxers off of his waist and thighs. Pushing the fabric aside, you’re exposed to a bit of pudge and his strong torso. God, is it awful that your first thought is to lick it? Who fucking cares, you think before you dive in, kissing his abdomen and tracing your tongue across the skin above his navel.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, baby,” he grunts and his head falls back against the couch, eyes slipping shut.

The taste of his skin is everything you want and need, the slight saltiness from sweat making your own core ache harder. Your hands grip his sides as you lavish his stomach and abs with kisses and licks, desperate and unable to get enough. You nip at his soft stomach and he hisses out a sharp exhale. He likes that; noted.

“God, I fucking love you, Javi,” you groan and grab his thighs, spreading them further so you can squeeze closer between them.

“Fuck, you too,” he groans and bites his lip as you press kisses to the base of his shaft, then smother the base with kisses and licks. It feels good, but nowhere as good it would be if you- “oh, dulzura,” he grunts as you finally give attention to the tip, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin before swirling your tongue around it.

He lets himself lean back and enjoy it. He’s received a lot of head in his day, from a lot of women, but what makes this the best he’s ever fucking had is the adoration in your eyes, the look of mischief as you trace his frenulum with your tongue just to see him squirm. You’re enjoying it just as much and that’s half of it.

His fingers dig into your hair, his back arching when you do something different. The next time you pull away, he keeps your head back, off of him. “Your bed. Wanna fuck you, pretty girl, wanna make love to you.” Your face is desperate, yearning for him endlessly. “Make love to me later. Fuck me first.”

The words go to Javier’s already aching dick. He stands quickly, pulling you up with him and lifting your shirt, tossing it aside and letting his hands finally grab your breasts through your bra.

“Thought you said bed.”

“Give me a second. Take your pants off while I do this.”

“Do what- Javi!” Javier unclasps your bra, which buckles in the front, and shoves it off, desperate to see your tits. “Mm, fuck,” he murmurs, admiring the things that have been taunting him since he very first saw you. Javier’s fingers tug at your nipples, pulling them to their hardened state, before pressing your tits together and burying his face in them.

He returns the favor of you admiring his body, licking and nipping and kissing at the soft skin, kneading them with expert hands. You’re too in the moment, enraptured by the way he works your breasts, but you come back to consciousness for a moment and wriggle off your pants and panties like he asked.

His tongue is masterful, swirling and licking your sensitive nipples in a way that makes you ache to wonder what that same motion would feel like between your legs. The feeling is too good, Javier adoring your body and practically worshipping it. He breaks away with a face slick from his own spit on your breasts and smirks. “Now bed. Wanna see if you taste just as good somewhere else.”

“Fuck, Javi,” you groan and pull him into a heated kiss, frenzied and passionate. You break away but keep him close and walk him to your bedroom, flopping on your back on the bed and waiting for him to follow.

He does, getting on the bed’s edge and lying flat on his stomach, spreading your thighs and nestling between them. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper as you realize he’s going to return the favor.

His lips ghost along the soft skin of your inner thigh, sucking bruises into the flesh that make you squirm and moan. His hair is thick but so beautifully soft beneath your fingers, and you bury your hands in it as he gets closer to where you want him. “Please, Javi,” you murmur.

“Anything for you, abejita,” he chuckles and licks a hot stripe from your entrance to your clit, latching on the sensitive bud and swirling his tongue over it. “So wet,” he muses, your folds muffling the sounds. It translates to a vibration between your legs that makes you shiver again.

He takes his time with you, letting his mouth explore every little millimeter of the sensitive skin there. He laps through your folds, your own wetness and his spit making it painfully easy for it to glide through. Finally, when he brings his fingers into it, you make a groan of relief. His fingers trace your entrance, slowly, around the rim. Teasing. “Javi, if you made my jaw sore, you better get me ready down there,” you laugh, love drunk on this man, on Javier Peña and everything the man has to offer.

“‘m trying,” he murmurs, slowly slipping a finger in and marveling at the glide. “God, you’re so tight,” he shivers, his own hips rocking into the bed at the thought of his dick buried inside this. “Gonna take me so well, aren’t you?”

His finger curls softly, experimentally, and you know you’re in for it now when it immediately hits the spongy spot inside. “Holy- oh fuck, Javi,” you pant, one hand gripping the sheets. “Right there.”

Javier smirks. “I’ve barely done anything to you. Look at this.” He slips a second finger in and you groan again, your head falling back into the pillow and your back arching.

There’s the late afternoon sunlight coming in through the slats in your shades, falling onto your bare breasts and Javier’s muscular back. The light is fading, the December sunset already approaching. God, he looks so good doing this, all you can do is whine his name again and again.

It doesn’t take long once he has two fingers inside of you, working them against that perfect spot and bringing his lips back to praise your clit. He can feel your body tense, your thighs tighten around his head. God, you could probably crush him like this, maybe smother him, but he can’t think of a better way to go. This is how he wants to die someday: his head buried between your thighs, tasting the most divine thing his tongue has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

You come with little fanfare, but Javier can feel it in the way your body moves. Your thighs spread wider, shaking, and your pussy clenches around his fingers. Your back arches and the soft noises you’ve been making slowly dissipate as it all fades.

He works you through it then looks at you with a smirk, licking his lips and the bottom of that goddamn mustache. “That thing is fitting,” you tease, stroking his damp mustache. “You have a tongue like a damn porn star.”

“Then just wait until you feel what else I have for you,” he teases, crawling over you until his hands are on either side of your head. You laugh and reach up to kiss him, groaning at the taste of your own tang on his lips. He’s such a fantastic kisser. You could just make out with him for hours, admiring the softness of his lips even when they’re slightly chapped.

Reaching over blindly, you fumble for your nightstand and reach into the drawer to find a box of condoms. You have to break away, but you return to him with one and hold it up, grinning. He snatches it from you and steals one last kiss before tearing it open with his teeth, tossing the packet aside and rolling the condom down over himself.

Javi kisses you again, deeply. Meaningfully. “You sure about this, little bee?” He asks, voice blown with lust, painfully hard from denying himself sensation while eating you out.

“I haven’t wanted anyone more,” you smirk. “But remember what I said earlier?” You tease, cocking an eyebrow and tracing your fingers across his jaw.

“That you love me?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“That we can take our time later. Now I want you to fuck me, please, baby.”

The words send a shiver down his spine and he nods. “If that’s what you want. I… I won’t hold back.”

“Give me your worst,” you smirk and kiss him hard.

He wastes no time. He lines himself up to your entrance and pushes in, burying himself to the base and grimacing at how good it feels, how much effort it takes for him not to lose it. He takes a minute, taking deep breaths. “You feel okay?”

He’s thick. There’s no denying it. Even with his fingers before, this is a different stretch. It’s aching but in a good way, in a way that makes you desperate to feel it. “Feel so fucking good already,” you admit, kissing his neck.

Once he’s ready, he begins. He starts with a rhythm that already makes you lose your senses, desperately clinging to the only thing you can think of or feel: him. His dick is large, and presses against just the spot that made you lose it minutes ago. His thrusts are not gentle, but rough and grinding. You can’t get enough.

His pace picks up. His hips snap into yours, moving a thick thumb to circle your sensitive clit with the pad of his finger. “You feel so fucking good, lil’ bee,” he breathes. His Texan accent from his upbringing is more present when he’s sleepy, you’ve noticed, but also when he’s extra turned on. Fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve heard.

“God, fuck,” you whine and cling to him, wrapping a leg around his waist and crying out as that allows him to get even deeper inside of you. “Javier, please baby,” you mutter, your hands frantically grabbing at his muscular back.

“You got it,” he grunts, each syllable in time with a thrust that pushes into you deeper and deeper. Your nails dig into his back unintentionally and he whines at the feeling, the pain and pleasure mingling perfectly. “Fuck, pretty girl. So fuckin’ good, taking me so perfectly. Like you were meant for this, huh?”

Whatever sense you have left agrees. You must’ve been. The universe put you two together in a surprising way so that you could feel this heavenly joining of bodies, so you can make each other see the farthest stars in the galaxy. “Yeah, oh Christ, Javi,” you groan as his fingers work in the opposite direction on your clit. “Harder, please.”

“I’ll try,” he chuckles dryly, wrapping your other leg around his waist. The position keeps him connected to you even when his thrusts nearly pull him fully out of you. “You like that?”

“Fucking love it, Javi,” you nod and grind your hips back against him and his hand. The friction makes him hiss, desperate for anything you’ll give. “Think I’m close. Think I’m gonna- oh,” you whimper, leaning up to grab his face and pull it down to yours.

He knows you’re coming quick. His lips remain on yours, determined to feel it when it happens. And it does fast- before long, you’re clamping down on him like a fucking vise and you make the prettiest little sounds into his mouth, muffled by his wandering tongue. He groans back, your thoughts passing through mouths rather than ears.

“Good girl,” he groans next to your ear. “Fuck. You make me feel so fucking good, knew you would.” He thrusts harder, and you’re becoming oversensitive but you couldn’t care less. He’s made this all about your pleasure, and he deserves to use you now.

The corners of your eyes prick with overstimulation. “Javi, baby, wanna feel you when you cum,” you beg of him. You dig your nails into his back and it’s the final straw- his hips slow and stutter as he shoots his load into the condom, moaning your name again and again.

When he comes down, he nearly collapses on you, his body like lead as the adrenaline works its way through his veins. He’s all fucked out, exhausted from how long he held back to pleasure you as much as he could. “Mm, baby,” you giggle, digging your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. His face is nestled into your neck and you smile, kissing his temple. He makes a soft noise of content. “Don’t fall asleep or the condom is gonna stick to your penis,” you tease lovingly.

With a groan, Javier sits back on his heels. He makes his way to the bathroom and tosses it in the trash, then gets a warm washcloth to wipe you down with. He takes good care of you, leaving kisses behind the warm water-soaked fabric. He finishes with a kiss on your lips that makes you giggle.

“You’re too good to me. What happened to the slut of Bogotá I’ve heard about?”

“He died with Escobar, maybe?” He chuckles, returning to your bed with you. “Or maybe I forgot to pack him. I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you chuckle. “I absolutely adore this one.” You snuggle into his side, against his flushed and tacky skin.

He kisses your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, then your lips. “You really are something, abejita.”

“You know, you’re allowed to call me babe and baby too,” you tease softly, your voice barely a whisper with Javier’s face next to yours.

“Those are generic. Little bee is ours.”

His words melt your heart, making your eyes slip shut and your lips curve into a smile in content. You rest your head on his chest and take a deep sigh.

“I really want to fall asleep, but it’s only 5:15,” Javier sighs.

“How about dinner? Are you hungry?” You ask, tracing your fingers across his soft abdomen and gentle tummy.

He thinks for a second. “How about we get delivery?”

“You read my mind, Peña,” you chuckle and place a soft kiss on his pec. “I love you.”

He takes a deep breath, forces all of the fear to leave his body with the carbon dioxide. “I love you too, abejita.”

-

taglist:

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[peachsayshi]

Chapter 3 - Call

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Solo & Mutual Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex 

Summary: With Gojo away on a mission, you decide to take the initiative by calling him for a little bit of fun.

A/N: ~

- - - 

Two months into your little arrangement with Gojo, you began noticing how certain aspects of your friendship started changing.

For one thing, Gojo could barely keep his hands off you. When you would sit next to each other, he would drape his arm lazily around your shoulder as if it belonged there. When having idle conversations with him talking about work or gossip, he would stare at you attentively while stroking your thigh. Most recently, while you were hanging out at his place, you were caught off guard when you felt him brush your hair away before delicately planting a kiss on your forehead.

At first you thought about telling him to stop, figuring his actions might be overstepping the boundaries you both set up. However, you changed your mind when you realised how nonchalant his behavior was. You figured his intentions were purely based on the fact that he could touch you in ways that he wasn’t allowed to before. Besides, Gojo was really good about ensuring not to make a serious move when the two of you decided to hang out instead of “drink” together.

You were surprised with how easily he switched from his fun, lovable self to the insatiable beast that would have you submit to his every word. Initially, you couldn’t bring yourself to make the first move around him, using a simple manipulation tactic of distraction that would ultimately force Gojo to take action.

Then the night at his apartment happened, where he had you flat across his kitchen counter while his tongue was working magic between your legs until you were unraveling in front of him over and over again. You were calling out his name in desperation, begging him to give you a break from the overstimulation but he refused. In the end, he left your body trembling from the final orgasm he gave you before lifting you up slowly and holding you close to him. He kissed your swollen lips, all before reaching for your hand and guiding it down to his pants.

“ Learn to use me like how I’m using you…” he whispered, “...stop holding yourself back. Otherwise, I won’t fuck you.”  

“I am using you,” you insisted with a pout, your hands motioning over his hardened member as you began rubbing him over his pants.  

A soft groan escaped him and he eloquently replied, “if you won’t even kiss me when you want to, then  you sure as hell won’t be comfortable with my dick inside you…”  

He was forcing your hand and your resistance was waning. He was becoming your favorite distraction, especially on the nights when you were feeling lonely.

Gojo was away on a mission and you had no idea when he would be back. He didn’t exactly live by a normal schedule but it’s been over a week since you last saw him and you really needed to relieve some of this sexual frustration that’s been running rampant in your mind.

You texted him while on your way home from work, asking him to call you if he was free later in the evening.

Once you arrived at your one-bedroom apartment, you gave yourself some much needed time for self-care. You cooked dinner then followed up with a long shower to relax from your own tiresome work week. After applying your face routine, you changed from your towel to a pretty light blue underwear set, opting for some luxury wear instead of your usual comfort clothes of sweatpants and an oversized tee.

You took a second to admire yourself before slipping on your silk robe. You haven’t felt this beautiful in your own skin in a while, and  while you would never admit it to Gojo, you found that being desired by him made you feel good.

You’ve been in a limbo of grey since breaking up with your ex, who spent the last six months of your relationship cheating on you before leaving you for the very same person he was fucking on the side. You gave him your heart and soul, allowing yourself to fall in love with him only to be shattered in the end. He left you picking up the pieces, to slowly glue yourself back together but managed to leave an irreparable wound in your heart.

Of course, you never told Gojo the real reason why you broke up when it happened. When the announcement came, it caught your friend totally off guard.

“ What do you mean it’s over? I was planning on ordering a custom suit for your wedding!”

Gojo had no clue that your boyfriend’s unfaithfulness left you with a sense of deep rooted shame.You weren’t used to keeping secrets from him but you did not want to show how weak you were. Three years of wondering what went wrong, of trying to puzzle together why you weren’t good enough for your ex, of stopping yourself from calling him when you were alone, of suffering from your own misery...

You made your way over to your bedroom, stepping over the mess of laundry on your floor that you were choosing to ignore and falling back onto your mattress. You reached for your device to check your notifications, hovering over the chat you had with Gojo before locking your screen and placing your phone by your side.

There was still no reply.

You were growing impatient and decided to take matters into your own hands until he responded.

You tangled your fingers around the belt of your robe, thinking about Gojo’s lips on yours. You weren’t shocked to learn that he was an exceptionally good kisser. The act itself was sinfully addictive and you realised that you could kiss him forever and never get bored.

When Gojo got naked in front of you for the first time, you were surprised to find that despite his tall and somewhat lanky frame, underneath all that clothing was a sculpted being. He had muscular legs which you loved grinding against, the broadest shoulders that you desperately clung on to for support as you reached your peak and a strong torso that your body easily melted into after you climaxed. The man was physically flawless and he knew it , which made it worse for you because he played on his attractiveness to get exactly what he wanted out of you.

You loosened the robe, spreading your legs and noticing the heat building from your lower abdomen as your mind raced at the thought of him. You brought your fingers to your folds, massaging them over the lace fabric but picturing his hands instead. You were thinking of the way he would purr in that low, sexy voice of his, praising you while you were down on your knees for him.

“Mmmm, that’s my girl…”

“You’re doing so fucking well, angel…”

“Keep going, baby, I’m almost there...”  

You loved that he used these pet names on you when you were intimate with him. Even more, it was the gratified reaction from his own lips as a result of your actions that sent a chill throughout your body. You couldn’t wait to finally feel him inside you and listen to the kind of filthy words he would spill while fucking you.

Your hand slipped underneath your underwear, two fingers deep in you pumping furiously while your other hand gripped onto the bedsheet. You allowed yourself to be as loud as you wanted, putting on a performance that Gojo would surely regret missing. Even if your neighbors heard you next door, they would not be able to tell that you were on your own climaxing yourself to a fiery orgasm.

“ God , I needed that…” you sighed, your eyes falling heavy as you slowly came down from your solo session.

Feeling significantly better, you stretched your arms overhead before glancing over at your phone and laying by your side. A little disappointed but not surprised that Gojo still hasn’t responded.

***

You sat up, dazed and unaware of when you fell asleep. You were surrounded by darkness except for the luminous glow that flashed from your phone. You glanced over your shoulders to find it ringing, squinting for a second to try and see who was calling you at this extremely late hour.

“Hello?” you finally answered, realizing that your throat was dry from your deep sleep.

Gojo sang your name on the receving line, his tone surprisingly energetic. “I got back to the hotel a little while ago and saw your text. Did I wake you?”

You checked the time before replying, “it’s three o’clock in the morning what do you think?”

“ I’m sorry, ” he cooed. “I can let you go back to sleep if you like...”

“No, it’s fine, I’m awake...” you replied, adjusting your position so you were sitting against the frame of your bed.  “Late night?”

“Yeah…”

“All okay?”

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over...”  

You swallowed hard at his comment. Of course you were concerned for his safety but Gojo never revealed what he dealt with and sometimes you felt irrational for being scared about something you knew so little about.  Yes, he loved bragging about his victories against curses he deemed as weak but ones that posed an actual challenge to the sorcerer?

Those ones he refrained from talking about.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your lovely text?” Gojo asked, changing the subject upon hearing your silence.

“It’s been stressful at work this week. We have a new project coming up and our boss is up in arms about ensuring it all goes well, which means I’ve been working late most nights…” you paused before continuing your explanation, “I feel kind of silly complaining about it now but I just thought I would call for a fun chat. You know? Get my mind off some things?”

“What kind of fun are we talking about here?”

You smiled to yourself, “we never actually figured out how to grab drinks while you were away…”

“ Ahhhh …”  Gojo teased, a hint of amusement in his tone as he perked up at your words. “I should have known. You don’t usually ask me to call you while I’m gone. Not going to lie, you had me a little concerned...”

You blushed at the thought of him worrying about you, “I don’t want to keep you up though, it’s late anyway. You must be exhausted…”  

He cut you off with a chuckle, “...same rules still apply even if I’m away. If you just texted me with our usual message, I would have called with a much better hello. Let me guess, I already missed out on some of the fun ?”

“ Maybe… ” you seductively replied.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment, “that’s a shame…”

“I know and I’m wearing the lace set you like so much…” you added, coaxing him with your teasing words.

“Mmmm, I do love how you look in blue.” he stated. “Tell me, what exactly were you thinking of when you decided to have “fun” by yourself?”

“Before I answer that, I just need to know something…”

“What is it?”

“Do you have your blindfold on?”

“No…” Gojo replied, slightly confused.

You tapped the back of your phone lightly, “well, well...looks like I’ll just have to wait then...”

“Are you serious? I can’t even see you!”

“It doesn’t matter! If you won’t take it off when we are together then you have to wear it at all times...that’s what you said…”

You could feel Gojo rolling his eyes at you. “Fine, fine! Give me a minute…” he huffed.

You giggled to yourself, humming as you waited.

“ Smart ass,” he teased, letting you know that he was back on the line.

“Hey, I’m just playing by the rules!”

“And I’m ready to play with you ... ”

Before you knew it, Gojo had ordered you to get naked. You were tangled up in your sheets, your body writhing from his dirty talk as you masturbated. Gojo kept saying how much he missed being buried between your legs, how much he wanted to taste that sweet cunt and how desperate he was to fuck you.

“Mmm, you’re such a fucking tease, doing this to me while I’m away...you best believe that once I’m back I will fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight...”

You mewled in response, feeling yourself so close to your release that you could not speak.  

“ Say it, ” Gojo directed, knowing that he can barely hold on himself due to the sounds of your pleasure. “I want to hear you say it…”  

Gojo went silent, his breath growing heavier as he was losing himself to the moment. You could hear him pumping his cock, finally pushing himself to his own release. A moan escaped you, your back arching off the bed as you parted your lips to speak. Your voice pitched as you whimpered into the phone and telling Gojo the exact words he has been dying to hear.

"I want you to fuck me, Satoru..." you begged. "Please, fuck me ...”

- CHAPTER 4: DOMAIN -