#Like not even remotely come close to that even.
Text
Protector
summary: After months working for the BAU, your harbored feelings for your boss seem unrequited until your hunt for the unsub goes awry. (hotch x fem!reader)
wc: 9.8k (oh my god)
cw: slow burn, boss/employee dynamic, age gap pairing, criminal minds level violence, mention of alcoholism, implication of father issues, hurt/comfort, reader gets hurt, fluff, angst, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, Hotch is a professional at heart and takes work boundaries seriously
a/n: Back in the saddle with a new man to hyper-fixate on. Hotch can GET IT. Also, let me know if anyone wants the SFW version I'm working on
“Looks like we’re doubling up,” Hotch announced, a sigh escaping his lips.
Before you could even process his words, the rest of the team sounded off, choosing their roommates for the duration of the case. All that remained were you and your boss. With the team dispersing, you awkwardly shifted your duffle bag to your other shoulder and looked up at Hotch.
His stern expression didn’t change as he looked back at you. “Come on. We’re 202.”
You followed him to the elevators, still unsure what to think. This was not only your boss but someone you had garnered quite a fondness for since you joined the BAU. Of course, you had managed yourself professionally thus far, but you were sure this was going to test your limits.
You understood the immediate pairings among the rest of the team. You were still fairly new, not quite to the rapport that the team had formed with each other. But it also made you think about how no one chose Hotch. The pressure to be Unit Chief also had to be lonely.
The elevator chimed, and the two of you shuffled in. You kept to yourself, trying to maintain composure. The lift from the first floor to the second felt like an hour, the silence deafening. You couldn’t shake your nerves. The doors opened, and he stepped out. You quickly followed.
Hotch opened the door and allowed you in first. The two double beds, office chair, mini fridge, and small bathroom were all less comforting to you than normal.
“Do you mind if I take the bed by the door?” Hotch asked, his voice softer than usual.
You blinked up at him, stirred from your preoccupation. “Yeah, of course. I like the window side anyway.”
“Thank you. If you’d like, you can have the shower first. I’d like to call Jack before he heads to bed.”
“Sounds good.”
You began to unpack your belongings and sighed in dismay. You had assumed that you would have a room to yourself as usual, so your pajamas were a little more revealing than you’d prefer your boss to see. Still, a t-shirt and shorts were reasonable sleep attire, so you tried not to dwell on it. You collected your things as Hotch dialed a number on his phone.
“Hey, buddy, how was your day?”
You smiled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. His “dad” voice was more upbeat, yet calm and soothing. With Hotch distracted on the phone, you could relax in the shower. The boiling water stung your skin, just the way you needed it. As you relaxed, you realized how silly it was for you to stress over the rooming situation. Hotch was here to do his job, just like you. And other than his intelligence, his kindness, and his fierce compassion for kids, you were sure you were only infatuated with him.
You finished up your shower and towel-dried your hair once you could no longer hear his muffled voice through the door. You were desperate not to waste Hotch’s time. With your hair still wet and your large t-shirt hanging over your shorts, you timidly exited the bathroom back to your bed, on your toes as if you were sneaking around. Hotch sat on his bed, his coat jacket now on the desk chair. He flipped through channels with the remote in one hand and loosened his tie with the other.
“All yours,” you spoke, struggling to get the words out.
Hotch looked up at you and gave a small smile. “Thanks.” He gathered up his things and closed the bathroom door behind him.
Another sigh of relief left your lips. You grabbed the book from your duffle and climbed into bed. You rolled over to turn on the lamp next to you and began to read, but before you knew it, sleep overtook you.
------
“Hotchner.”
You woke up to Hotch answering his phone. The sky was still dark. The only light illuminating the room was the alarm clock. You realized that you hadn’t turned off the lamp before you fell asleep, nor did you place your book carefully on the side table with a hotel pen as the bookmark.
“Alright. Yes. Right. Understood. We’ll be right over.”
You looked up at Hotch expectantly. He looked at you, then averted his eyes as he got out of bed. “Another young girl missing. She’s only 16.” He paced the floor for a moment, a short-lived break from the stoic leader he always has to be.
“I’ll call the others,” you said sitting up. His eyes returned to yours, the strain turning into relief. He only nodded and headed for the closet, suiting up right there.
You called the others and followed suit, leaving the hotel parking lot by 3:46 am.
------
The next 18 hours were long, stressful, and only moderately successful. The team was able to work out an arrangement with the kidnapper before their 24 hours were up. The girl, Heather, was returned to her parents with only a few bruises. But the kidnapper got away, practically goading you all at the ability to remain anonymous. The team was exhausted and out of ideas.
The team drove back to the hotel without a single word exchanged. The kidnapper’s voice rang in your head. He was so confident, arrogant even. There was almost never a moment where he fumbled over his words or cracked. His ruse lasted for hours. But he got sloppy in the end, fessing up to her location just enough for Garcia to triangulate. But something wasn’t adding up to you: his willingness to run instead of killing her when he had the chance.
Hotch spoke up, stirring you from your ruminations. “We need to start from scratch. Reid, give us a rundown on what, where, and why.”
“Well, we know his victims are all young women now ranging from 16 to 23. They come from middle to upper-class families. He sends messages to the families always demanding ransom within 24 hours. Three women have been killed, and now two have survived. The strange part is whether or not he stays truthful to his word. The parents have always given him what he wants, but then it’s up to his discretion whether he follows through.”
“Based on these girls,” Prentiss interjected, “this guy’s intelligent. He prides himself on the ability to get away with this.”
“That’s good,” Hotch said, eyes still on the road. “But why work with us sometimes and not others?
The SUV hummed as its passengers sat in silence.
You decided to speak up. “Prentiss said he prides himself on the ability to get away with this, right?” Everyone sat still, expectant for you to continue. “We’re looking at this the wrong way. This isn’t a sadist who gets off on killing. This isn’t a psychopath with a compulsion. This is a narcissistic sociopath who has been evading capture for weeks now. This is a game to him. It’s a game he knows he can win.”
“Which is why when he’s pressured, he releases the girl.” Hotch nodded along.
“He can take a loss where he can because, to him, the ultimate win is to not get caught,” Reid agreed.
“Great work,” Hotch said, parking the car. “You guys head in and get some good sleep. I’ll fill in the other van. Be ready for a big day of planning.”
You walked up with Reid and Prentiss, a small smile refusing to leave your lips. You cracked it, you thought to yourself.
Your two teammates teased each other up to the rooms, you following close behind. You weren’t the type to inject yourself into other people’s conversations, which ended up making it hard to connect with them. It was as if you had been adopted into a family that has known each other their whole lives. You were respected, sure, so there was no need to complain. You just wished that you could make jokes with them and have the levity they had during intense cases like this.
Still, even hearing your teammates laugh was enough for you tonight. You longed for a moment longer, but they said their goodnights and headed off.
You entered your room, much more relaxed than the night before. You had yourself all worked up, and for what? You gathered your things and headed to the shower, sure that Hotch wasn’t far behind and would call his son again.
As you exited the bathroom, Hotch entered the room. You jumped despite yourself.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
“It’s ok,” was all you said in response. You returned your things to your bag and slid into bed. You turned on the lamp and began reading while Hotch took his turn in the shower.
You were still reading when he returned, the book more interesting now than it was the night before. You glanced up only for a moment. Hotch wore striped pajama pants tonight, contrasted to the boxers you accidentally noticed earlier that morning. You looked back at your book but couldn’t read it. Your mind wandered to the message Hotch could be sending. Maybe your shorts were inappropriate. Maybe you weren’t meant to see his boxer shorts at all. Maybe he was just cold.
“Good work today,” Hotch said, interrupting your thoughts.
You smiled up at him. “It was a team effort.”
“We may have never come to the conclusion you did. Take the compliment.” Hotch’s lips raised to a subtle smirk, something you’ve only seen a handful of times and certainly never directed toward you.
“Yes, sir,” you said. “Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your eyes drifted back to your book.
“What’s your book about?”
Was Hotch trying to make conversation with you? True, it wasn’t as late as yesterday’s arrival, but in all of your months of working for the BAU, any discussion with the team had been strictly professional. Still, you blushed at the question.
“It’s a romance,” you confessed.
“I have to say,” Hotch began, “I’ve never read a romance novel. What about it appeals to you?”
You thought for a moment. “I guess it’s the suspension of disbelief. The relief to enter a reality where people love in big, romantic ways. Don’t you ever want to get swept off your feet?”
You cringed at the question, debating on whether it was appropriate to ask your superior about romance.
“I think I’d rather do the sweeping,” Hotch said thoughtfully.
You smiled at his words.
“You don’t think people love in romantic ways in this reality?” Hotch asked, looking up at the ceiling. His breaths were calm, and his face seemed to soften from serious to curious.
“I don’t know,” you said sincerely. “My sister is about to marry a real stand-up guy. He’s caring and has a good family who loves her, too. It’s one of those one-and-done fairy tale deals. Like truly made for each other. But I wouldn’t say that’s the norm. It’s not my norm, at least. So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m skeptical.”
You crossed your legs and fiddled with your thumbs. You tried not to reflect on your history, tried not to give any clue to your boss of your true beliefs. It didn’t ultimately matter to the conversation, anyway. The silence stewed as it stirred up new thoughts and old patterns, feeling yourself shut down the conversation. You didn’t mean to. You hated being seen as the one that was boring outside of work. The one that wasn’t friendly enough to get to know.
“I’m sure you don’t know,” Hotch began again, shaking you from your anxious thoughts, “but bringing up your sister reminded me that I met your dad a few years ago.”
You shot up. “You know about him?” You covered your face with your hands.
“He was nationally awarded for his work in counterterrorism. Of course, I know about him.” He laughed softly, a sound you weren’t used to but would never complain to hear it again. “I met him on a job in Bakersfield. He knew the town like the back of his hand. Is he why you joined?”
“In a roundabout way,” you sighed.
“He brought up his girls every chance he could.” Hotch smiled and turned to face you. “One was a soccer star in South Carolina on track to be a doctor. One was a track star a semester away from graduating with honors and applying to Physician Assistant programs, I believe.”
“My sisters are overachievers,” you said.
“Then it’s you he talked about the most. The musician, the future psychologist, the one who found fascination with the minute details of life.”
“My dad said all that?”
“He did. He had offered us beers when it was all over, and he shared photos of you all. You’re certainly much more grown now.” He chuckled.
Your cheeks flushed red at the comment.
“I showed him Jack playing tee-ball, and we both shared some stories before it was time to go. He had some great advice to give.”
“I’m sure he did,” you mumbled. “Sir, I don’t want you to think I got in because of him. He didn’t know until I made it to Quantico. I mean, yes, he always pushed the army and West Point like him, but I did this all on my own, Mr. Hotchner, I swear.”
“Hotch is fine,” he gently corrected. “I’m not worried about where you came from. I knew the entire time. But your qualifications are what got you on the team, not your father. Keep up the good work, and I’ll continue to remember that.”
“Yes, sir.” You thought to yourself for a moment. The candor of the conversation may have added to your bravery in this moment. “Hotch?”
He raised his eyebrows to imply he was listening.
“Umm, Is there anything that I can do to, like… never mind. I’m about to sound pathetic.” You huffed back down into your pillow. You couldn’t believe you were about to ask Hotch how to make friends.
“They’ll warm up to you, just like you’ll warm up to them. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are.”
You sighed again. Of course, he knew what you were stressing about. He’s the chief profiler after all.
“I’ll let you read now,” Hotch said, getting up from bed. “I’m going to call Jack.”
You gave a small smile and nodded, and he left the room.
------
You woke up the next morning to Hotch returning to the room, two disposable coffee cups and a case file in his hands.
You jerked up from bed. “Am I late?” you asked, scared you slept through the alarm.
“No, no,” he said, walking over to you. “I’m early. Coffee?”
He held out one of the cups to you. You gently accepted.
“Thank you.” You looked over at the clock. 5:54. You rubbed your eyes. “Are you always up this early?”
“On the job, yes,” he said with no inflection. “Much to think about, and much to be done.” He sat back on his bed and reviewed the file you knew he had reviewed countless times. If he was anything like you, he was searching for some hidden puzzle piece, something that the team must have missed to solve the case once and for all. But it was never that easy. Still, maybe some fresh eyes could help.
You slid out of your bed and rested on top of his. “Can I help?”
“Be my guest.” He shifted the file your way for a better vantage point. You crossed your legs and sipped your coffee before getting to work.
You found yourself lost in thought, jotting down those thoughts in the margins. It helped to visualize your connections, even drawing physical lines to connect them. You noticed that the most recent girl didn’t fit the age range of the others, 19-23. You dug deeper, making a note to ask Garcia to run the connection between all of these girls. College? you wrote. There was a college campus within ten minutes of the hotel. One more thing struck you. All of the victims had their hair up in a high ponytail. You weren’t sure how that was associated yet, but you wrote beside each of the photos anyway.
As the early sun began to rise, you grew brutally aware of Hotch’s presence. His body leaned closer to yours, and you felt his eyes sear into your skin. You grew distracted, your mind wandering to the fact that you were wearing only a loose shirt and small shorts in Hotch’s bed. Was he noticing the same thing? Was this a breach of professionalism? Were you making him uncomfortable? Against all your will, you felt your body temperature rise in the form of a blush.
The alarm clock rang out, pulling both Hotch and your attention. You stretched over to turn it off.
“I’ll let you get ready,” Hotch said, jumping out of bed. He headed to the door, refusing to meet your gaze. “Meet me downstairs?”
“Yes, sir,” you said, slightly surprised by the questioning tone of your superior. He nodded and left the room before another word could be spoken.
-------
In the conference room of the local police station sat the team, all watching Hotch interact with the captain of the squad through the glass. You stayed facing the table with your head low. You couldn’t help the bounce of your leg. While the others inferred the conversation outside, your mind had fixated on the morning’s events. The heat of your boss’s breath had tattooed your skin, a branding to the back of your neck. The intimacy, the closeness, and then the flustered nature Hotch left in replayed in your mind. You couldn’t look at him until you could properly collect yourself.
“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Morgan asked. Your head shot up. All eyes were on you now. You failed to hide the rouging in your cheeks.
“Nothing.” You shrugged, though you knew the contradiction in your body language.
JJ chuckled. “Nothing? You’re so tense, so distracted.”
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” Morgan asked again, a smile growing on his face. “Hotch keeping you up all night?”
You flinched at his name. You couldn’t help it, but you outed yourself all the same.
“No, I slept fine. I swear.”
“You flinched!” Prentiss laughed and pointed. “It is about Hotch, isn’t it?”
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Rossi said, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.
“Hon, you better tell us what happened in the next three seconds.” Derek swatted at Spencer’s chest. “Reid, help us out, here.”
“Based on the months we’ve known her, she tends to—”
“Don’t you start profiling me, Reid.” You glared at Spencer across the table.
His arms shot up in the air as if to surrender, but a smirk remained on his face. “All I’m saying is that I know the physical signs of a crush when I see one.”
Your jaw dropped. The conference room filled with laughter.
“Leave her alone!” Garcia yelled from behind you. “She’s our sensitive little one!”
“I’m not 5,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. Penelope hugged you from behind as if to protect you from the others. The others continued to laugh, causing you to smile despite yourself. Morgan took a photo of you and Garcia, and warmth spread through you. Even with all the teasing, being here with the team felt good.
Just then Hotch rushed through the door. “Alright, let’s be seated and get to work. We have a big day ahead of us.” Garcia took her seat, but Hotch stayed standing, opting to position himself in front of the whiteboard. “After speaking with the captain and going through the case file with Y/N this morning, I determined our best attack on the situation. Though, it is rather unorthodox.”
The rest of the team stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. Hotch continued. “What do we know about our killer better than anything? His victimology. We know that he goes after girls and young women aged 16-23. They are middle to upper-class, and not the type to find themselves in trouble. Now, who do we all know who fits this very description?”
“Y/N,” Reid said.
All eyes returned to you, this time with a seriousness looming in the air.
“If we don’t want any other kidnappings, we need to give him what he wants. Going after the 16-year-old was off for him. He’s devolving. Which means we need to act fast before he kills again. This is the only way we can approach this head-on.”
“Hotch,” Emily began, “with all due respect, let me take this on. Or JJ. JJ has experience.”
“With his victimology going as low as 16 now, it should be someone who looks the part,” Reid replied.
“She’s just a kid, Hotch.” Morgan reached his hand toward your shoulder, but you gently nudged it away.
“But I’m not a kid at all,” you spoke up. “I have two degrees and the same job as the rest of you. I know I’m young and look younger, but I’m qualified. If my appearance can be used to put this guy away, then let me help. Let me do my job.” You looked up at Hotch, a sudden confidence flowing through your veins. “What do you need me to do?”
-------
For the rest of the day, the team helped you prepare for your role as a 22-year-old college student. The team strategized and planned, desperate to ensure your safety. Everyone added their two cents, but you were happy to receive all the insight you were given. You weren’t going to screw this up for them.
You, Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan returned to the hotel to pick among your belongings to dress the part. Rossi, Reid, and JJ stayed behind with Garcia to set up intel at the station.
“The shorts you wore to bed,” Hotch began, “go put those on while we find a sweatshirt or jacket. In fact, wear the shirt you wore, too. The size could conceal the mic better.”
You nodded and grabbed your things before heading into the bathroom. It was not lost on you that your boss was thoroughly aware of your pajama situation, but due to the pivotal role you were to perform, it was easier to focus on the task at hand.
You returned from the bathroom where Emily greeted you with the mic. You lifted your arms, allowing Emily to snake the mic underneath your shirt, securing it to your sternum with sports tape. While doing so, Hotch and Morgan returned with a single sweatshirt in Morgan’s hand. It was grungy and old, not quite the goal aesthetic.
Still, Morgan handed it to you to try on. The three profilers evaluated your look.
“This isn’t gonna work,” Morgan said. Prentiss pinched her eyebrows together in dismay. Hotch stayed staring.
“Take off the sweatshirt,” Hotch ordered. “I think I have something better.”
You did as he said while he rummaged through his duffle bag. He pulled out a quarter zip of excellent quality, something he only wears on a successful plane ride home.
“Put it on.”
You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions. It was a large fit, hanging just above the hem of your shorts and the sleeves landing at your fingertips. The three of them looked at you, then to their reference photos, then back at you. Something was missing.
“Call Reid. Maybe he can find any other similarity we’re missing,” Hotch said.
“No, I got it.” You remembered the notes you made earlier that morning. You took the hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a high ponytail. “Now, what do you think?”
“That’s it,” Morgan said.
“And just in time,” Emily noted, “We gotta get you to the college fast.”
On the ride to the school, Hotch reiterated the goals in place.
“All you need to do is walk across campus using the roads. Keep to yourself, and most importantly, do not—and I mean it—do NOT, get into the vehicle under any circumstances. Stall him, flirt with him, do anything you can to keep him in place. We’ll be right there. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. I got it.”
“We’re counting on you.”
“Good luck.” Prentiss smiled with seriousness behind her eyes.
Morgan grabbed your shoulder, turning you around. “Be smart, kiddo.”
You returned a small smile and left the van to venture on your walk.
------
You had to have walked the streets for at least an hour. The campus was massive, larger than any school you attended. You did as you were told and kept to yourself. The sun had long since set, so there was no warmth to guard you from the biting breeze. A car or two passed periodically, but none slowed down beside you. There was a peace in the solitude. One could chalk it up to the calm before the storm, but you weren’t afraid.
Another car passed, but this time it slowed down. Your heart stopped and landed in your throat.
“Excuse me,” the man called out. The voice was unforgettable. The very same voice that threatened to kill the girl over the phone. The voice that replayed in your mind for hours. You knew it was him.
You turned to face him, trying to commit every detail to memory. He was a conventionally attractive man with lighter hair and a smile that you would have swooned over under any other circumstance. He wore a white polo and jeans and drove a two-door black convertible with the top down.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m looking for a party my buddy’s throwing, but I don’t go here.”
“I’ll say you don’t,” you chuckled as you walked closer. “Your car must cost my tuition!”
The man grinned. “You like? I could take you for a spin. But I’ll have you know; I like to go fast.”
“Mmmm, top-down, wind in my hair,”—you inched closer still, to feign some sort of interest— “but don’t you have a party you’re missing?”
“Well, if you show me where to go, maybe I’ll consider you my plus one.” He winked.
“Now, do I look like the partying type to you?” You laughed and rested your arms on his car door.
Without another word, he grabbed you by the upper arms and pulled you into the driver’s seat. You screamed at the top of your lungs. You tried to fight him from your disadvantaged position, but he was stronger, quicker. He forced you into the passenger seat as he wailed punch after punch into your jaw.
“Nice. Girls. Don’t. Scream!” he yelled. He punctuated his words with one final blow to the head. And as you drifted out of consciousness, you weren’t sure if the roof was closing above you or if the sky was turning black.
------
The sound of fireworks stirred you from your unconsciousness. Lights of reds and blues lit the night sky. You smiled at the serenity of the celebration. You didn’t want to go, but the strong hands beneath you lifted you away. You were much too tired to argue, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. The faint words “stay with me” echoed in your mind, and if staying meant remaining in the comfort of the person who held you, you’d be content to stay there forever.
------
You woke up to blinding white lights. This must be heaven you assumed. You blinked through the searing lights and realized it wasn’t heaven at all. You were in a hospital. The sheets, the gown, the blinking monitors, and a small TV playing all clouded your senses. You reached up to rub your head, but someone was holding your hand.
Hotch moved with you, stirring him out of his strained slumber. He had pulled a chair to your bed, his head resting next to your knee. He lifted his head and looked up at you, an urgency deep within his eyes.
“How are you feeling?” He didn’t let go of your hand.
“I—uhhh—Hotch, what’s goin’ on?” You found your breathing quickening at the sound of your slurred speech, the confusion becoming too much to handle.
“You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok. The doctor said they want to keep you overnight, but the team’s on their way.”
“No, no.” You pulled your hand away. “They can’t see me like this. You can’t see me like this! I’m not put together. I—I feel like I'm gonna be sick. I can’t feel my arms. Are my hands shaking? I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out!”
Hotch all but jumped at your ramblings, his eyebrows raised in shock. Before he could answer you burst into tears.
“Hotch, I’m gonna be sick,” you said through your convulsions.
Hotch jumped up in search of a bucket. He grabbed the trashcan at the corner of the room and brought it to you just in time. Tears streamed down your face as you threw up into the trashcan. Hotch held your hair back and gently rubbed your back.
Your nausea subsided, but your panic remained. Hotch sat on the bed, pulling you into his chest. You gripped him with all your might, desperate for the shakes to go away.
“You're alright. You're safe, ok? I think the medicine is messing with you a little. Take some deep breaths for me. I need you to relax, ok?”
You tried to take breaths at the pace Hotch set. Hotch’s hand combed through your hair as he tried to soothe you. Eventually, you were able to cool off. Hotch gently rested you back on your pillow. “Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little, ok? I think you’ll feel better when you wake up.”
You nodded, your face still wet from the tears. You repositioned yourself and fell asleep within moments.
When you woke up again, your mind was your own. Your head was pounding, and your body ached. You allowed yourself to adjust to your environment before searching for Hotch. There he sat by your bed, talking to a nurse. You cleared your throat effortfully. Hotch stood and approached you.
“How are you?”
“Everything hurts.”
“They’re giving you ibuprofen now. It seems like you were reacting to the morphine poorly.”
“That’s embarrassing.”
“Not at all,” Hotch said seriously. “Do you remember what I told you? That they want to keep you overnight?”
“That does ring a bell,” you said as you rubbed your head. “Is the team here?”
“They are. I told them to wait outside until you were ready.”
“Oh, ok.” You thought for a moment. “Hotch?”
“Yes?”
“Can—Can you tell me what happened? Like, did we win? Is everyone ok?”
Hotch chuckled, but his eyes appeared sad. “Everyone is fine. We got him. Are you sure you want to talk about this now? Why don’t we wait until you—”
“Hotch. Please.”
Hotch sighed and took a moment to think. “Well, we knew we were looking for an expensive convertible thanks to you.” He smiled. “So, we began our search as you spoke. But then, we all heard you scream.”
You flinched at the word, your memory of the gruesome event beginning to reassemble.
“Of course, it was full speed at that point. He had you, and we weren’t going to lose you. We cornered him on a dead-end road just outside of campus. We didn’t let him get far. Prentiss shot out one of his tires, so he started running. Prentiss and Morgan ran for him, and I ran to you.”
He paused. He looked away as his bottom lip trembled. He took a deep breath in as he settled into his natural professionalism again.
“We had EMT on standby, so we were able to get here quickly.”
You nodded, realizing it was Hotch who carried you out. The fireworks, the lights, the “stay with me”, the reality of it all crashed in on you in the form of a shudder.
“It was you?” you asked.
Hotch knit his eyebrows together and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“You pulled me out. I felt you. I think I heard you.”
“Someone had to make sure you were ok.”
The fact that it was Hotch warmed your heart. Still, a question lingered in your mind. “Is he still alive?”
Hotch shook his head no.
“Mm,” was all you could say in response. There was no room for emotion. No time to process an opinion. You were just glad it was over. “What time is it?”
Hotch checked his watch. “It’s 2:43.”
“In the morning? Sir, with all good intentions, go to bed. Go tell the team to—”
Just behind Hotch, you caught a glimpse of Spencer in the doorway. “Is now a good time?” he asked.
You smiled and nodded. Spencer peeked his head back out and in a loud whisper said, “It’s clear! Go, go, go!”
The rest of the team hustled into the room and crowded around your bed. One by one, greetings and gentle hugs made their rounds, and your smile grew bigger and bigger.
“It’s a party now,” you said, a giggle bubbling out of your throat.
“Oh, she’s got the right idea,” JJ said as she sat close to you on the bed. She carefully moved a strand of hair from your face.
Prentiss laughed. “All we need now is some good music, a dance floor, and some drinks.”
The room filled with a few laughs and overall agreement.
“Too bad you all aren’t even supposed to be here,” Hotch said, slightly scolding the team. “It’s probably time for you all to call it a night.”
“Aw, Hotch, just a few minutes?” Garcia asked.
“We’ll be quiet!” Reid said.
Everyone looked at Hotch expectantly. You looked around at your teammates. They all were begging for a couple more minutes with you. That alone allowed your pain to subside.
Hotch sighed. “Just a couple more minutes.” A small smile formed on his face.
Everyone crowded around the bed, content murmurs and chatter filling the room again.
“Now be honest, guys. How bad do I look?” You shot them all a cheesy smile to sell it.
A few of them chuckled at your antics.
“I think you’ll be back to dating in no time,” Prentiss joked. “Guys love a badass scar.”
“Yeah, ’cause she was dating before,” JJ teased as she played with your hair.
“Shut up!” you giggled, coughing a little.
“I’ll get you water.” Hotch shot up and walked off.
“I’ll go with him,” Rossi said, sighing.
A seriousness enveloped the room. Derek was the first to speak up. “You know, you really scared us today, kiddo. Not to get all big brother on you, but it was tough seeing Hotch carrying you like that. Just limp.”
“And imagine how Hotch must have felt,” Reid said.
You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
Just then Hotch and Rossi returned with your water.
“Drink,” he said, his arm outstretched. You grabbed the water from him, your fingers overlapping his. The memory of his hands shot through your spine. His frantic begging for you to stay with him, much more panicked than you remembered the phrase.
Imagine how Hotch must have felt.
“It’s getting late,” Rossi said.
The rest of the team grumbled and said their goodbyes. Hotch allowed the rest of the team to go, lingering in the room with you.
“If you need me to stay, I’d be happy to do so.”
“You need sleep, sir.”
“I’ll sleep on the plane,” he said as if it was nothing to him. “If you don’t think you’ll need me, I can let you be. We can be here early to pick you up.”
You thought for a moment. You didn’t want him to go, just in case. “Would you be willing to stay?”
“It’s why I offered.”
You felt your lip begin to tremble, the brave face for the rest of the team beginning to fade. “Hotch?”
“What can I do?”
“Well, I just… Can I use your phone? I think my mom should know I’m alright.”
“Of course.” He handed you his phone. “I’ll wait right outside for you.”
When the phone call was finished, Hotch returned and sat down in the chair.
“If you’re going to stay, I at least want you comfortable,” you said.
“The chair is fine,” Hotch said, taking his coat off for the first time today. “Get some sleep.”
You scooted to the side of your bed. “Here. At least sit up here where there’s some cushion.”
He didn’t respond right away. You knew you could convince him.
“I promise I’ll sleep,” you continued. “I’d be up worrying about your discomfort otherwise.”
Hotch sighed and stood up. “Only because I want you to sleep.”
He sat in the space you made for him at your feet. He stretched his legs alongside yours and rested his back against the footboard of the hospital bed.
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you curled up on your side. The comfort in knowing that he was there to take care of you was enough to send you off to sleep in minutes.
“Goodnight, Hotch.”
“Goodnight.”
------
You woke up to something you had never seen before. Hotch was asleep at the foot of your bed, resting his head against your shins. A hand was placed just below your knee as if he planned to protect you in his sleep. It was the most peaceful you had ever seen him. He didn’t look cross or serious. He was calm and relaxed. You smiled to yourself. You had to fight the urge to return his touch. You knew the moment he woke up he’d return to his professional senses, and you weren’t quite ready for this moment to be over.
The doctor walked in to check on you, stirring him awake, anyway.
“I’m clearing you. Take these twice a day. Your jaw is going to be sore for a couple weeks, so work up to crunchy and chewy foods. And please, no strenuous activity for at least a full week.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you said, taking the bottle of pills.
“Thank you,” Hotch said. He stood up from your bed as the doctor left. He threw his jacket on and fixed his hair in the window’s reflection.
You sat up and swung your legs off the bed. Hotch spun around and met you at your side.
“How can I help?”
You chuckled. “I think I can stand on my own.”
His eyes shared signs of concern and disbelief. Still, he took a small step back and allowed you to gather your bearings. Standing on your own, you closed the small gap between you. You began to become painstakingly aware of your attire being only a hospital gown and rubber socks.
“You got it?” Hotch asked, his arms out like you were a baby taking your first steps.
“Mmhmm,” you said. “Are my clothes here?”
“Yes, let me grab them for you.” He rushed to the corner of the room where your clothes had been neatly folded, including his sweater. He handed them all to you, his hands brushing against yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he stood over you. You looked up at him. His eyes returned your gaze, though you weren’t able to read him. His chest rose and fell as if his breathing was slow and deliberate.
“I’m going to call the team,” Hotch said, his voice low. “Do you—do you need help with anything before I do?”
All you could do was shake your head no on instinct, your eyes not leaving his. He stayed still. His eyes scanned you like he was contemplating something. He backed up carefully and pulled his phone from his coat pocket.
“Wait,” you said.
He froze.
You felt your face redden as you worked up the courage to continue. “Could—could you untie the top for me? My shoulder—”
“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly as he inched forward again. “Turn around.”
You did as you were told. He brushed your hair over your shoulder and began to work on the knot. His calloused fingers feathered your skin. His warm breath betrayed you as chills ran down your spine. He untied the knot, allowing cool air to reach the back of your now-open gown. Hotch turned to leave.
“Be careful,” he said at the door. “If you need me, knock on the glass.”
You nodded.
He closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.
------
The drive from the hospital to the hotel rendered the air stale. Hotch had insisted on helping you out of the hospital and into the car. But he didn’t speak. He drove while you sat in the back seat. Every once in a while, you’d catch him checking on you in the rear-view mirror, only to direct his attention back to the road.
When you returned to the hotel, Hotch stopped you from leaving the car.
“I’ll grab your things. You stay here.”
“I can get my things just fine.”
“Your bag is heavy. Doctor’s orders. No strenuous activity. Stay here.”
You huffed and sat back in your seat as Hotch closed the door for you.
The plane ride was the same: silent. Hotch sat opposite you as if he refused to allow you to leave his sight. But he kept to himself all the same. The others rested or played their card games, but you stayed put, almost waiting for Hotch to make his next move. He didn’t speak the entire flight.
Upon your return, Hotch dismissed the rest of the team.
“Thank you for the hard work this weekend. Rest up, and I will see you all Monday.”
You all headed out to leave, but Hotch stopped you. “Let me take you home,” he said.
You sighed. “Is driving a strenuous task now?”
“It’s late, and I’m not asking,” he said, returning your attitude.
You followed him to his car. He carried both his and your bag and placed them in the backseat before joining you up front.
Again, not a word was spoken between the two of you. You felt your blood boiling beneath your skin. It was as if the trip never happened, as if the distance between you never closed. The babying was the worst of all. You were sure he was seeing you as the rest of the team did now, incapable, fragile, only a child.
Hotch walked you up to your apartment. He waited for you to open your door, placing your bag directly inside.
“Well,” you began, “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”
He stood in your doorway for a moment, something on his mind. “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anything else you think you may need before I go?”
“Hotch, what is all this?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
You tried to maintain your sanity, but the anger had bubbled into your throat. “All this, this, this coddling! You’re treating me like I’m fragile or, or useless!”
“Do I have to remind you that you were in the hospital this morning?” Hotch asked, aggravation coating his throat.
“I don’t need this from you, too, ok? The rest of them, I can take it, but you were different! I thought you were different.”
Hotch closed the door behind him and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you not noticed that all of them treat me like I’m a child? Derek literally calls me kiddo, and the girls act like I’m some innocent girl fresh out of high school. Reid and JJ are five years older than me. That’s it! Rossi, forget it. I’m like a grandchild to him at this point. But you, you never belittled me. So, what is this? Did I fail you? I’d rather you just tell me than refuse to speak to me.”
“I – you didn’t fail me. How could you think that?”
“You couldn’t even look at me after the hospital.”
Hotch’s face turned a light shade of pink, his eyes leaving yours for only a moment. “We were successful because of you. But you got hurt. I just want to make sure you’re ok. That’s all.”
You thought for a moment, still not satisfied with his answer. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I thought we were—I thought maybe there was something—”
“Please,” Hotch interrupted, “don’t say anything you might regret.” He took a step back.
“Are you saying I’m imagining this? That I imagined this morning?”
“No, no, no. We’re not doing this.”
“The coffee, the book put away neatly,”
“I would do that for anyone.”
“What about when you stormed out yesterday? When we were going over the file on your bed.” Your voice started to shake.
“That’s when I—I realized we had to use you.” He looked down, almost ashamed.
Your heart pounded in your chest, fear that you’ve outed yourself and maybe you were more delusional than you thought.
“This morning…” you said.
“You asked for my help, and I helped you. Just like I’m happy to do for you now if you need. Look, it’s late, and you’ve gone through a lot.”
“Then what did Reid mean?”
Hotch looked back up at you. He looked nervous, something you may have never seen in his eyes before. “What do you mean?”
“He said imagine how you must have felt when you found me. What did he mean by that if it doesn’t mean you care about me?”
“Of course, I care about you!” he exclaimed, moving closer to you. “I almost lost you! And when I found you, I thought you were gone. You were lifeless. So, forgive me for wanting to be careful with you, because I refuse to let that happen again. I refuse to lose you again.”
You looked at him in shock.
He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said any of this. Listen, the only reason you’re feeling anything for me is because it’s me you woke up to. Nothing more. If Reid or Morgan found you, the same thing would happen with them.”
“Do not chalk this up to some damsel in distress situation,” you said a little too boldly. “The whole team knows I have a thing for you.”
Now Hotch was in shock. He shook his head. “It’s not me you want.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“I know you’re desperate for romance in your life because you either don’t make time for it in real life or were burned so bad in the past, that you gave it up entirely.”
“Hotch, don’t you dare profile me right now.”
“I know you have a rocky relationship with men in general, rooted in your relationship with your father.”
“Stop it, now.”
“You refuse to associate with him in any way. You don’t even allow us to call you by your last name. He views you differently from your sisters for some reason, and you hate him for it.”
“Hotch, I swear to god—”
“You mocked him for giving good advice, and you flinched when I brought up getting beers with him. He’s an alcoholic, isn’t he?”
“So, what, honestly? Literally who cares if he drinks? He gets mean, so what? What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot have?”
“But he’s not just mean, is he?”
The air in your lungs got caught in your throat.
“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how he treats you differently.”
“That’s enough,” you said, your voice cold.
Hotch stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with both hands. You shuddered in his grasp. “You don’t want me, ok? I can’t fix what you’ve gone through. I can’t even protect you at work. Do you know the guilt I feel for what happened to you? I’m the one who got you hurt. And now I have to live with that. What makes you think that I can be what you need if I can’t even keep you safe here?”
You closed what little space was left between you. You looked up at him, your face only inches from his. “Stop telling me what I want. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. You’re not going to push me away like this.”
Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. His chest heaved up and down, and his eyes darkened. “This is wrong. I’m your superior. This isn’t appropriate.”
“If you truly don’t want me, I’ll stop. We’ll go back to how things were. But you have to say you don’t want me.”
His grip on your shoulders strengthened, his touch burning into your skin. His now wild eyes scanned you as if he couldn’t have fathomed this happening. A lump formed in your throat as you waited for him to find the words. Instead, he pulled you flush against him and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was raw and desperate, rougher than your healing jaw could take, but you couldn’t care less. He wrapped his arms around your back and gripped your hair as if it was instinctual. Your breathing hitched, causing you to moan into his mouth.
He pulled away, slightly out of breath. “I need you to tell me this is ok.”
“This is ok,” you said, breathless.
“Good,” Hotch said, “because I don’t want to stop.”
A smirk formed on your face. You grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him closer to you. “Then I think you need to take this off.”
You dropped the tie and kissed him as he took his coat off. Your mouth wandered to his jaw. Hotch let out a groan.
“Your room. Now.”
His words sent chills down your spine. You took his hand and led him to your room. You turned around and watched Hotch remove his tie, sliding it through his collar. His eyes stayed on yours, his already dark eyes now almost black with desire. The moment his tie came off, he was back on you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His hands wandered to your ass and lifted you up, his lips never leaving your skin. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to your bed.
Hotch laid you down, now hovering over you. His lips drifted from yours down to your neck.
“Seeing you in this had me thinking horrible things,” Hotch confessed, slightly pulling on the quarter zip you were still wearing.
You blushed. “Really?” you asked, a smug smile growing on your face. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”
“Was it really that obvious?” Hotch asked, his large hands finding their way under your shirt.
You couldn’t even answer as his hands ventured up to your chest. His hands pulled a moan from your mouth.
“Take this off,” Hotch said as he pulled the hem of your shirt.
“You, first.”
Hotch’s eyebrows raised as if surprised by your reply. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. You practically drooled at the sight of him shirtless. You could only assume he was fit when he rolled up his sleeves or manhandled unsubs, but this was all the confirmation you needed.
“Your turn,” he said.
You did as you were told, revealing yourself to him.
“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed as he kissed your chest.
You fought off a moan. You couldn’t believe this was happening. This was only something you pictured in your wildest dreams, and here he was in the flesh.
“I wanted this for so long,” you found yourself saying out loud.
“Me, too,” he agreed. “You have no idea how much I thought about this.”
Your cheeks flushed red. He began leaving marks past your breasts, down your stomach to the hem of your shorts.
“Can I take these off?” Hotch asked.
You nodded.
“Use your words, honey.”
Your stomach did a flip hearing the phrase. “Yes, sir. Take them off.”
He all but growled in response. He pulled at your shorts, taking them off in a swift motion.
“So much for no strenuous activities,” you joked.
“I can be gentle,” Hotch said as he settled in between your legs. “Let me take care of you.”
Your head fell back onto your pillow. You knew you were in for it.
Hotch spread your legs apart, the stretch enough for you to arch into his touch.
A smirk graced his lips, and without another word, he licked into your core. His mouth against you was like a gift from God, something you had only hoped could feel so good. You couldn’t help but squirm against him, grabbing his hair to pull him closer, if at all possible. He placed a hand on your stomach to keep you still. You could feel him smile against you, turning you on even more.
“Hotch,” you breathed out. You were close faster than you had ever been.
“Say my name,” he said as he placed a finger inside you.
“A-Aaron,” you choked out, the new sensation too much to handle. He filled you with another finger, his hitting the spot your fingers never could.
“Fuck, Aaron, don’t stop. Please.” Your breathing quickened, and as he pumped his fingers in and out, you felt the coil in your stomach snap, expletives and his name leaving your lips. Hotch continued to pump you as you rode your high, a daze overtaking you.
When you caught your breath, you pulled Hotch back up for a kiss, your hands finding their way to his belt.
Hotch’s hands stopped yours. You looked up at him, confused.
“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.
“I want this if you do. Do you?” you asked.
“I really do,” he said. “I need to feel you.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then please let me help you.”
He released your hands and kissed your forehead as you unbuckled his belt. The moment felt ironically wholesome until you pulled at his dress pants. You couldn’t help but gawk at his cock springing free. You were suddenly nervous, not quite sure it would fit after all this time practically revirginizing. If your jaw weren’t so sore, you’d have him in your mouth without a second thought.
“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he said as if he could hear your thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Hotch hovered over you and kissed your lips softly. You returned the kiss and nodded.
Hotch lined himself up with your entrance and carefully pushed in. He and you both groaned at the sensation, the stretch of him filling you something you hadn’t experienced in years.
“Jesus Christ. You’re so, this isn’t your first time, is it?”
“No, no,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just been a while. Just, just go slow, ok?”
Hotch nodded and started to move. He rested his forehead on yours, sighs and pants escaping both of your lips.
“Can I kiss you?” Hotch asked.
You chuckled at his question. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we?”
Hotch smiled as he placed his lips on yours, much more tender than before. He moved a stray hair from your face and cupped your cheek with the utmost gentility. The urgency was gone, replaced by something deeper. Everything had culminated to this moment, and neither of you wanted to waste it.
Still, the need for more overtook you. “Aaron,” you said, your hips bucking up into his.
“What do you need? I need you to tell me.”
“Faster, please,” you said.
His pace quickened, one hand still around you. He used the other to stabilize himself, allowing you to view the tension in his muscles. You bit back a moan as the pressure inside you built.
“Don’t hold back,” Hotch said. “Let me hear you.”
He slammed into you, a smirk growing on his face as your breath caught in your throat.
“Just like that!” you blurted out.
He did just that, slamming into you again and again.
“Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Hotch said, his voice almost shaking.
“I’m close, too. Please don’t stop,” you begged.
He pounded into you harder and faster, no longer a rhythm but a motive, a goal to achieve.
“Come for me, honey. I’ve got you. Just come for me.”
You clenched around him as you came, all but screaming his name. His pace didn’t let up as you rode your orgasm, your legs trembling around him.
“Oh, god. I’m gonna, where do I—”
“Chest!”
He pulled out and came on your chest, making the most attractive groans you had ever heard in your life. You watched in awe, absolute shock overtaking you. Never in your wildest dreams did you picture this. And for the love of god, you hoped this wasn’t the last time this happened.
Hotch crawled over you, still catching his breath, and captured your lips in a kiss.
“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked. “Is your head ok?”
“I’m good,” you said smiling at his return to his overprotective self. “I’m really good. I promise.”
Hotch rested his forehead on yours then kissed you, the tenderness returning.
“I like when you do that,” you said, your cheeks reddening.
“Me, too,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“You don’t have to help, if you don’t want to.”
“What, and miss showering with you?” Hotch smiled. “Just lead the way.”
In the shower, the two of you washed up, and you couldn’t knock the smile from your face if you tried, until you thought about showing up to work Monday morning.
“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked.
“The team’s gonna know,” you said.
Hotch thought for a moment. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, well, I wouldn’t have done it in this order, but would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?”
You blushed, despite the state you were both in. “Are you asking me on a date?”
Hotch smiled. “I’m asking you on a date, yes. I have to be honest, though, I’m out of practice.”
“If tonight was you out of practice, I think tomorrow will go just fine.”
Hotch laughed and kissed you again, something you hoped would never fade in your memory.
************
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@lizziedizzie3 @heavennleeee-blog @hunterswearingplaid @thisismysecrethappyplace @geekinator9 @ronnie248-blog @oliolioxiclean @phonegalhelp @because-you-never-know-when @roonyxx @keithseabrook27 @ericaprice2008 @heythereamigodude
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#bau team#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner fluff
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Hii!! Can you write a Joost x Reader where reader goes with him on tour, but they made a mistake with the hotel rooms and reader has to share a room / bed with Joost? 👀
here you goooooooo
to be desired ~ joost klein friends to lovers one shot
My masterlist here ✨💌
Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader
Description: A hotel room mix-up not only forces you to share a bed with your friend Joost but also some feelings you had tried to hide away for too long.
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N: I hope you like it, if you do pls show your support by reblogging ❣️❣️ send in requests i'm having fun with this! 💌
Warnings: not proofread
"Alright, I'm gonna head out early tonight," you let Adam know. You were backstage at one of Joost's shows, only the last few songs were yet to be performed.
"Already?" Adam asked as he looked up from whatever he was working on.
"Yeah, can you let Joost know later?" you asked although you had already told your friend earlier tonight that you probably wouldn't last long tonight.
"Will do. Keycard's on the desk," he informed you, pointing to the desk by the door where you were standing. Adam was Joost's tour manager and one of his duties taking care of everyone's accommodation which usually included him checking in for everyone and distributing the hotel key cards backstage. You snatched the keycard and waved goodbye to Adam as you headed out.
During the short walk to the hotel you looked around the streets of this city you had never been in before. You were so grateful that Joost had suggested you join him for tour three months ago. The offer came about after you had spent an evening smoking on Joost's balcony, venting to him about feeling uninspired, directionless and stuck in your routine and environment.
"Like, I just wanna be everywhere all the time and instead I'm just in my flat all day every day," you complained to him and he nodded.
"Why don't you come with me on tour?" he had just asked bluntly and your first instinct was to decline. But then you wondered, why not? What's stopping you? You could do your work remotely from anywhere anyway and you loved to travel. Getting out of your usual environment and routine was exactly what you needed and Joost offered you the solution on a silver platter.
"Alright, why not?" you shrugged. Joost got up from his seat to hug you in excitement.
"My best friend is coming on tour with me," he said and you laughed as you hugged him back. What he didn't know is that you longed to be so much more than his best friend, but you declared that a problem for another day.
"Oh nice," you said to yourself as you opened the door to your hotel room and noticed it was much nicer than usual. It was definitely more spacious and the bed was a queen-sized one instead of a single. You took the opportunity of the early night to take a long shower in peace and do an extensive skincare routine before you plopped down on the bed in your pyjamas. You got comfortable under the covers and pulled up your phone to watch some TikToks before you slowly dozed off.
You were awoken when you heard a beep coming from the door as it was being unlocked. Your eyes shot wide open as you realise that someone was getting into your hotel room as you saw the door slowly open.
"What the fuck! Get out!" you yelled towards the door and you quickly turned on the lamp on the nightstand.
"I'm so sorry," you heard the person at the door say apologetically as they quickly closed the door again. Before the door fell into the lock the person stopped in their tracks. "(Y/N)?" a familiar voice uncertainly asked.
"Joost?" you asked in confusion. The door slowly opened again to reveal Joost standing in the door frame looking just as dumbfounded as you. "Wha-?" you furrowed your brows.
"You're in my room," Joost laughed.
"No, I think you're in my room," you insisted.
"I don't think so," Joost said and held up his keycard as if it would explain anything.
"Yeah, how do you think I got inside?" you asked.
"Adam messed up," Joost stated and you nodded as you laughed nervously. "I'm gonna call him," Joost said as he pulled out his phone. You looked down at your phone to see that the time was almost 2 am. You were not so sure that Joost would be able to reach Adam at this time and your suspicion was confirmed when Joost turned back to you. "He's not answering," he said and scratched his head. "The reception desk is also closed already."
You rubbed your eyes sleepily as you watched Joost cluelessly stand by the door, his bags in hand. "I'm sorry I woke you up," he said after a pause. "I'll check if I can crash in Stuntje's bed or something."
"Isn't he gonna be asleep already as well?" you asked.
"Probably," Joost shrugged.
"And his room only has a single bed," you stated.
"Probably," Joost confirmed.
"Honestly, if you don't mind, I don't mind," you said gesturing to the empty side of the bed. "It's a big bed."
"If you don't mind snoring," Joost laughed.
"I'll manage," you assured him.
"Alright," Joost said and put down his bags. "I'll be quick," he said as he gestured to the bathroom.
"Take your time," you smiled.
It was only a few minutes before you could feel the mattress dip on the other side of the bed and Joost slipped in beneath the covers.
"I missed you at the end of the show tonight," Joost said. You turned to face him.
"I know, I'm sorry, I was just very tired," you said. There was about a metre between your faces as you lay there comfortably.
"When I invited you to tour I was under the impression that my advantage would be that I would get more of you," Joost joked.
"Haven't you had enough of me?" you asked.
Joost shook his head. "Never."
"Well, tonight you're getting a whole lot of me," you said and immediately blushed when you realised how Joost could take your words in the wrong way. "I mean-" you started but Joost just laughed. "Nevermind," you said trying to play it cool.
"This is fun," Joost said. "It's like a sleepover."
"Oh, I've got some bad memories from a sleepover," you said and Joost furrowed his brows.
"How come?" he asked concerned.
"Well," you let out a breath. "For the longest time, I was never invited to them. And then in 7th grade, I was finally invited to one and when we played spin the bottle the bottle landed on me and my crush at the time which meant that we had to kiss - which would've been my first kiss by the way - but he refused to kiss me," you shrugged trying to play it cool. "Everyone else did and he pretended as if kissing me would be the worst thing in the world," you could feel your throat getting tighter as you recalled the memory and what it made you feel. Joost grabbed your hand in yours to comfort you.
"What an asshole," he said. "Who wouldn't want to kiss you?"
"Well," you shrugged. "I don't know anybody," you joked. "I think that moment fucked me up, like still to today."
"How come?" Joost inquired as he used his thumb to softly stroke the back of your hand.
"I talked about this in therapy but I think that this experience and a few others led me to believe that nobody could ever be seriously interested in me, that there was never anybody that desired me," you explained looking around the room to avoid Joost's gaze who was looking at you as he listened intently. "Like I don't think I've ever had anyone try to pick me up or like flirt with me or something."
"That's not true," Joost said with a frown on his face which you discovered as you looked at him for the first time again. "People have definitely flirted with you."
"Sorry, but how would you know?" you laughed.
"Because I flirted with you when we first met," Joost said and your heart skipped a beat.
"No, you didn't," you said.
"Yes, I did," Joost insisted. "I made Appie introduce me to you because I thought you were cute." Your heart started beating faster at the revelation.
"What? I swear I was oblivious," you said.
"Well, I just assumed you weren't interested in me in that way," Joost shrugged and you kicked your past self for missing such an opportunity.
"So, you're telling me I fumbled the bag with you?" you asked, your heart beating almost out of your chest. Joost nodded grinning. "This-" you gestured between the two of you, "could've been something entirely different?"
"Yes," Joost said and paused. "Still can be," he added timidly. You held onto Joost's hand like a lifeline, squeezing his hand tightly. "I think you need to breathe," Joost reminded you as he noticed you holding your breath. "Are you alright?" he finally asked after your silence persisted.
"I want you to kiss me," you finally dared to say.
Joost softly grabbed your face and moved closer to you. Your hands found the back of Joost's head and his lips crashed into yours as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Joost was leaning over you, his hand sneaking down to your waist where a sliver of your skin was exposed by your pyjama set. Your lips moved in sync against each other, tasting every bit of the other. Joost softly put your hair behind your ear after you broke the kiss and watched your face fondly.
"Next time you can tell me sooner because I would've done anything you would've told me to," he said and planted a quick peck on your nose.
"Well, I want you to cuddle me," you smiled.
"That can be arranged," Joost said as he spooned you from behind, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. "Maybe we should thank Adam for the mix-up."
#stream luchtballon#joost#joost klein#joost x you#joost klein x you#joost klein x reader#joost x reader#joost klein fanfic#joost fanfic#joost fic#joost klein fic#joost oneshot#joost klein oneshot#joost fanfiction#joost klein fanfiction
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Minx- Dinner Start
cw: implied and lightly referenced sexual acts and favors
“Well, you look like something the cat threw up.”
Jason pried one eye open just to glare at Danny as he flicked him off. It didn’t matter if Danny couldn’t see the glare, it was the principle of it all. Jason didn’t need to be told how badly he looked, not when he knew how badly he felt. He especially didn’t need to be told that by Danny who looked liked a million bucks. The black dress hugged Danny on all the right places to give him all the right curves and, impressively, the appearance of small but shapely breasts.
Danny just shrugged at the gesture. “You do.”
“And you’re lucky most people here know not to fuck with you,” Jason growled. “What are you doing walking around here looking like that?”
“There were some creeps around the lockers I keep my change of clothes in,” Danny said as he sashayed forward. The way he walked in those heels over the beat up sidewalks of the Alley was frankly impressive. “It seemed safer to come home like this than deal with those fucks. Don’t worry, I’ve got the gun you gave me.”
Jason ran his gaze down the form fitting dress again. “Where?”
Danny laughed, the sound bright and musical. It was at odds with the shit hole of a night that Jason had been through. It was nice.
“Come on, up off the wall. My place should be close enough to limp over to,” Danny said. He reached out and placed what Jason had to imagine was a gentle hand on the side of the helmet. “Unless you need the better stock of your place?”
Jason bit back a groan as he leaned up off the wall. “Not that badly hurt. It’s a lot of surface shit and bruising.”
“I can take care of that. Come on. I even have dinner waiting for us.”
“Yeah, how’d you manage that magic?” Jason asked. He followed just a step behind Danny and to his left, automatically falling in to guard him in a way that Jason tried not to think about too hard.
“With the magic of a crockpot and a rice cooker,” Danny said with a dramatic spread of his hands like he was making a rainbow. “Seriously, best two purchases that I’ve ever made. Like, I can come home to warm food and it’s good! I never thought that I could cook but this shit I can do.”
Jason hummed in acknowledgment. He couldn’t exactly do a crockpot when he didn’t know what safe hosue he might end up at, but maybe he could look into a rice cooker that he could start remotely. If he threw some precooked meat or an egg on top of the rice, that would still be better than what he at some nights when he was coming home after a long patrol.
“This one is mine,” Danny said as they got to a small, nondescript door. It was next to the entrance for a fix-it sort of shop and lead up to the second story of the battered, brick building.
Jason had already known that this one was Danny’s. He chose to not say anything about that as Danny unlocked the door and led them up the tight stairs to another door (which was to Jason’s approval also locked) and into the apartment.
Thrift store might be a better word for the place. There was a lot of stuff with no clear sense of style or theme. Hell, Jason wasn’t even completely sure what room they were standing in right then.
“Go sit on the couch,” Danny said.
“I would if I could see the damn thing,” Jason replied.
Danny rolled his eyes as he brought a foot up to start to undo the dangerous footwear. “Behind the potted plants. It’s yellow, you can hardly miss it.”
“You say that, but,” Jason said, mostly to be an ass, as he headed that way. He stopped short of the very yellow couch to stare at the wall and the large, neon skull that adorned it. “Didn’t that used to be up Vic’s bar?”
Danny smirked at him as he passed by. “You can’t prove it’s the same one.”
“I can. I mean, you know that, right?” Jason called after Danny as he disappeared through a door that he didn’t bother closing. “I could, in fact, prove it is the same one.”
“But you won’t!”
Jason sighed. But he wouldn’t. “How did you even get it here in one piece?”
“Carefully and with a few blow job IOUs,” Danny said casually. After a beat he added, “You know, I don’t think Leo ever cashed in on his? Oh well, he’s happily married now.”
Not really knowing what to say back to that, Jason sat down on the edge of the couch and started to undo his boots. He set the second one aside just in time to look up as Danny finished pulling on some black leggings up over strawberry patterned underwear. Jason glanced aside quickly.
He hardly had an issue with nudity— not after years of fighting crime with family or training with assassins— but there was something so much more intimate about it in the soft neon light of Danny’s apartment. Focusing on taking of the bulkiest parts of his own armor seemed safer than looking up again.
---
AN: Words are... not my friend today, so not sure if I'll get anything for Trauma Tuesday done. So have this it of Minx I wrote more of last night! Stay delightful, darlings.
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Sneaky Link 💙 (Toxic!Student!Gojo x Professor!MILF!Reader FWB 18+ One Shot)
“You know you want this.”
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Black!Fem!Reader (Teacher x Student/FWBs to Lovers)
Synopsis: You’re a stressed-out mom and college professor who has been swamped with your job and mommy life lately. You’re so knee-deep in your work and kids that you need some kind of release. Unfortunately, you’re not finding any of that in your husband, but luckily, that’s what Gojo Satoru is here for…even though he’s way too young for you and is your student.
Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Professor!Reader; College Student!Gojo; College AU; MILF!Reader; FWBs/Fuck Buddies; Toxic!Fuckboy-ish!Gojo; Switch!Gojo (MDom + msub); Switch!Reader (FDom + fsub); Infidelity/Cheating; Oral (Giving + Receiving); Some Analingus; Body Worship; Deepthroat; Facefucking; Spit Play; Pussy Drunk!Gojo; Cock Drunk!Reader; Daddy Kink; Mommy Kink; Multiple Positions (Doggy, Missionary, From the Side); Dirty Talk; Possession/Ownership; Scent Marking; Cum Play; Breeding; Unprotected PIV; Raw Creampie; Facial
Writer’s Note: I was listening to SWV’s “You’re The One” & got an idea for this. I love me some toxic!Gojo 🤤 Enjoy! -Jazz
********
You never knew how loud a man could get until your husband orgasmed.
Usually, you’d find this sexy. You love vocal men. You love your vocal man. All of his slutty moans, gasps, and groans that bounce off of your bedroom walls would usually trigger your nut quick.
“Cumming!” he moans, hovering over you, his face glistening in sweat as he rails into you like he’s trying to wake the neighbors with the knocking headboard. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming! Cum with me! Are you cumming with me?”
But instead, you lie there underneath him like a dead fish, just staring and not moaning or orgasming like you should be. Like you used to. “Uh-huh,” you reply.
Even as his handsome face screws up the way you like, you don’t find it even remotely attractive. It isn’t like your husband isn’t a sexy man. Every time you go out, you catch the wandering eyes of women and men alike who ogle at your man despite the ring on his finger and being the father of your beautiful twins.
But what they don’t know is that the sexy man they all want for themselves is dry in the sheets. What they don’t know is that he isn’t attentive or a good listener when it comes to doing what you want and need to achieve pleasure. What they don’t know is that your marriage that seems so perfect and amazing actually isn’t.
Case in point, when your husband finally orgasms, gripping the headboard and pausing to cum while buried deep inside of you, he doesn’t even notice how quiet and stoic you are. You are not enjoying yourself yet he is completely oblivious to it. Just like he is every night…or any night he decides to fuck you, that is.
Finally, he lets out a shudder and a satisfied smile stretches across his mouth, a sign that the sexy was more than satisfactory. He pecks you on the lips and rolls over onto his back, lying naked beside you while you lie in your beautiful gown from tonight’s date night. You didn’t even take off your dress! That’s how unsatisfied you feel and how much you didn’t want any kind of sex tonight.
“Wow,” your husband sighs. “That was amazing, baby.” He turns to you, a sparkle in his eyes. You don’t look at him, instead staring at the ceiling. “Mmm-hmm,” you hum.
He moves in close and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his sweaty chest. “I’m so glad we were able to do this,” he chuckles. “I know we’ve been pretty busy with work and the banquet tonight was tiring, so it’s nice that we always get time to have sex.”
‘On your time, that is,’ you sourly think.
“Yeah,” you say instead. “It was…okay.” Your husband ironically catches onto your bored tone and sits up, his flaccid dick hanging between his thighs. “Okay?” he parrots, confused. “But we tried that position you’ve been wanting to try! Y’know, the one with your legs up and your head hanging off the bed?”
You play with a loose strand on your gorgeous dress that you bought a month in advance for your husband’s work banquet.
The banquet you went to tonight and shucked your kids off to your parents for.
The banquet you were hoping your man would get drunk at, notice how sexy you look, and use all of tonight without your children home to make you cum your brains out.
And even though he did agree to do a new position for the first time in months, it didn’t feel any better. You felt no kind of enjoyment. “Well, yeah,” you say. “A-And it felt good, but—“
“But what, Y/N?” He sighs, sounding tired of your shit. You’re tired of your shit too, but also his. “I thought we had managed to squash this finally after our dry spell.”
Dry spell. You nearly scoff. Is he still convinced that this dry spell is moistened now? You glare at him, not liking his tone or his blasé attitude towards your needs. “You only noticed that it was a ‘dry spell’ because I wasn’t sucking your dick anymore,” you snap.
This has been happening for the past couple of months, especially since the beginning of spring semester. You’re a college professor working at one of the most prestigious Ivy League universities in the country, so half of your time is given towards work. And if your time isn’t given towards work, it’s given towards your two beautiful yet chaotic 5-year old twins.
You are married to a bigtime corporate lawyer, going on year six. They’ve been six years full of love, happiness, and great communication. But lately, that communication has been waning thin because of work. Your hubby is a very busy man, constantly at work juggling cases and sometimes working on the weekends when he should be spending time with you and the kids…especially with you.
Ever since the spring semester started for you, things have gotten worse with the stress of grading assignments and exams before your senior classes graduate. Your head is filled with planning things for the next month: planning class lessons, grading, what to fix the kids for their school lunches, etc.
You are drowning in your stress! All you want to do is be with your man. Hug him. Kiss him. Have him put you in the mattress again and again…but that’s barely been happening. He’s always tired or asleep when you’re in need of attention. And when you do get the attention you crave, it’s lackluster and half the time you end up making yourself cum when he rolls off to sleep.
It wasn’t always like this. Your sex used to be amazing, filled with connection and intimacy. Now it’s just…nothing. The fact that he doesn’t listen to what you want or even attempt to try is even worse. He is too busy for you and it’s starting to piss you off.
But not enough to hit up the one guy you know can get the job done. Not enough for that at all! So you roll your ass over and tend to your irked husband. “I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s not you, baby; it’s me. It’s just stress from work and the kids an’ all.”
And that’s the truth, though you left out that you’re also pent up, horny, and sexually frustrated. However, your husband embraces you back, so you don’t say anything to ruin your cuddling session.
After a while of soft kisses and snuggling, your hubby gets out of bed and steps over his suit that he quickly stripped off as soon as you got back here an hour ago. “You wanna shower with me?” he asks, putting his bathrobe on.
You open your mouth to respond with an excuse not to, but your phone ringing on the nightstand gives you one. “Uh, in a minute,” you reply. “I’ve gotta take a call.”
He nods and gives you a smile which makes you feel horrible. He truly is a great husband, but your throbbing pussy and rising libido tell you differently. Once he leaves, you answer the call to the one person who can truly understand your dilemma. “Answering my call at 10 PM on a Friday night?” She asks. “You either fought your man or the sex was bad. Good evening, Ms. L/N.”
“Hi,” you chuckle, quickly looking at the bathroom door where your man disappeared. When the water starts running, you speak louder. “And no, it wasn’t bad. It was just….average.”
Your friend laughs despite your pain. “Well, be happy that he at least had the time to reciprocate this time. Did you cum this time?”
“Uh….” You contemplate whether to lie or tell her the truth. If you lie, you’ll feel bad for doing so, but if you’re honest then she’ll berate him like she always does. Finally, you sigh and give in. “I tried, but no. There was zero trying on his end.”
Your friend isn’t happy to hear that. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it this time,” she groans. “If he’s embarrassed, let him be embarrassed!” You roll your eyes at the mention of you faking your orgasms for your husband at one point to appease him. You do things for the ones you love. “No, I didn’t,” you sigh. “I did as you said and kept quiet, but he didn’t even mention it!”
You put a hand on your forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “I took the kids over to my parents’ place for some time alone after the banquet. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with this.”
“Well, you could always come out with me and my man tonight,” your friend suggests. “They’re having this special called Freaky Fridays at the bar we like. You could meet a nice guy there.”
You can’t even picture yourself getting out of bed to get into your sexy clothes and cheat. You’ve done that already. “Thanks for the invite, but I’ve had enough drinking for one night.”
“Oh, how was the fancy banquet, by the way?” Your friend excitedly asks. “You looked so fuckin’ good tonight! If I were your hubby, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” You laugh at her referring to your photos on Twitter of you at your husband’s work party. Something about his firm celebrating their 50th year in business.
“Maybe I should’ve married you then,” you giggle. “It was fine, but all I could think about was gettin’ fucked in the bathroom. I tried to initiate a quickie before we left, but he wasn’t having it.” You sit up, ignoring the insistent throb of your clit and the need to get your vibrator out of your nightstand if not use your fingers.
“Plus I still have grading to do over the weekend before next weekend when graduation starts.” Your friend dramatically groans at the mention of your work.
“Girl, you’ve been busy since the beginning of the damn semester!” she scoffs.
“That’s the life of a professor,” you chuckle, taking your hair down and running a hand trough your curs/twists/locks/waves/braids. “And to make matters worse, I’m extremely horny.”
“That’s why I said come out and meet somebody!” your friend says. “But then again, maybe you don’t need that. You’ve still got Mr. Long Dick on speed dial, don’t you?” She giggles knowingly despite you cringing on the other end.
“Don’t even mention him,” you sharply warn her. “I told you before: what we had was just a fling and it should’ve never happened. That’s why I ended it. Plus, he’s my student!”
“Not for long!” she argues. “He graduates in a week, Y/N! And he’s a grown-ass man! He wouldn’t have agreed to fuck you if he couldn’t handle it.”
You squeeze your eyes to try and will away the thought of ‘Mr. Long Dick’ with his snow-white hair, alluring blue eyes, charming smile…and his long dick. His long, thick, perfect dick. And his sensuous, pink lips. And his tongue and fingers that he absolutely knows how to work.
Gojo Satoru. Straight A student, athlete, and renowned fuckboy. He has every girl and guy on campus going crazy for him. Yes, he is perfect. Yes, he is good in bed. But he is also too young, has community dick, and is one of your senior students.
You made the mistake of having a five-month long sexual relationship with him that you quickly ended last month before finals month. It first started when the chill of November came and your bedroom problems with your husband got bad to the point where he was sleeping at his brother’s place.
Gojo was always a flirt and made it clear to you that he had a thing for you—always complimenting your hair and outfits; holding the door for you and flashing you pretty smiles; always making excuses to stay after class or meet you in your office to discuss assignments.
You didn’t realize that he truly wanted you until he was in your office one day and happened across a photo of you and your twins together. “They’re beautiful,” he commented, smiling at them. Then he turned to you, his gaze soft and intimate. “Just like their mother.” You swear you’ve never been so wet before, your panties becoming soaked under your pencil skirt.
That was also the day you kissed him. Overcome with lust and desperation that your man wasn’t fulfilling, you stood up and planted one on him which he happily embraced. His kiss was electric and passionate, his hands soft and happily wandering your ass and hips. But you didn’t have sex in your office. Instead, you invited him over that night when your husband was at a work dinner and your kids were sleep.
There, in your marital bed, he fucked your brains out and made you realize how good young dick is…or maybe that’s just his. He made you cum three times before he left, keeping your panties in his back pocket when he did. For the next five months, you would see him behind your husband’s back.
You’d fuck him in your office. In his dorm room when his roommate was gone. In your house on your lunch hour while your husband was out and your kids were at school. In hotel rooms. In empty classrooms. It was the most alive you’ve felt in a minute…but despite how good it felt, it was also wrong, so you cut him off last month.
“No,” you sternly say. “Sure, Gojo was a good time, but it was inappropriate. Besides, who the fuck would I be fucking my own student? He probably would’ve started asking me to bump his grades up.”
Your friend, of course, goes to argue, but the bathroom door opens and you quickly jump up like your hand is in the cookie jar. “I’ll call you back,” you say and quickly hang up the phone. Your husband comes out in his robe, smelling of soap and cologne.
You watch him walk over to his closet and take out some fresh clothes. “Uh….where are you going?” You confusedly ask. He turns to you, putting on his shirt first. “Got a call from one of my working buddies,” he explains. “I forgot about this bar crawl my job is throwing just for my company. It’s the mandatory after-banquet after-party.”
You scowl at him, knowing he’s lying. “Mandatory?” You scoff. “There’s no such thing as a mandatory after-party. You just wanna go just to go.”
He shoots you a look as he drops his towel before putting on some boxers and jeans.
“Well, metaphorically, it is mandatory because of my position, just like the banquet was,” he argues. “And even if it isn’t literally mandatory, what’s the big deal?”
This is another thing you dislike about your husband: his inability to put aside his own wants. You do it all the time for him! “Well, I thought you were gonna stay here for a while so we could watch a movie or cuddle,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your bosom. ”Y’know…spend time together without the kids.”
You hope he’ll see how upset you are and reconsider. But he doesn’t. “Well…I’ve gotta get dressed, babe. Everyone is waiting for me.” And to add flame to the fire he’s already started, he scowls at you while buttoning his jeans. “And I just spent an hour here trying to make you cum!” he continues.
You gape at him, silently seething. So now it’s your fault. “Never mind,” you sigh. “Forget it. I’ll just grade these assignments.” Immediately, you shut down and scoot to the edge of the bed to dig into your nightstand for fresh panties.
Your husband realizes how bad he fucked up and quickly rushes to apologize. Like he always does, but never delivers. “Don’t be like that,” he huffs. “I’m sorry. I was gonna ask for you to come with me if you’d rather put the grading on the back burner tonight.”
He moves to sit next to you, shirtless and still damp from the shower. “Or I could stay here,” he continues. “You’re right—we should be spending more time together.” He puts an arm around you, willing you to look at him.
You do and instantly, you feel tired. Tired of doing this dance. You try to talk about your needs, you argue, you get angry, you fight, you stop talking, he apologizes, and then it starts again.
“No,” you say. “Go ahead and go. I’ll be here when you come back.” Your husband furrows his brows at you. “You sure?” he asks and you kiss him to silence him, cupping his face. “Yes, my sexy lawyer husband. Now go and tell your work buddies about how good I looked tonight.”
You share a laugh, another kiss, and all is forgiven (at least to your husband, it is). You watch him get dressed and begin to get a head start on grading, pulling out your laptop and glasses while still in your dress. By the time he is ready to go, you’ve already finished grading two papers.
Once he leaves, you regret it. Your horniness rears its ugly head once you are alone. Your pussy throbs insistently in your panties, desperate to be touched. You know that nothing you do for it is going to work, so you take a shower instead. You strip off your dress, jump into the cold water, and wash off tonight. You even squirt on some perfume to make yourself feel better.
But nothing works. While in the shower, all you think about is being held against the wall and railed by your Mr. Long Dick.
So you try other remedies to distract yourself with: a glass of wine; more grading; watching TV; calling your folks to check on the kids, reading a book, etc. But nothing. Fucking. Works. All you can think about is sex. Specifically sex with your FWB. Finally sick of your shit, you give in to your urges and toss your book aside before reaching for your phone.
You scroll down to your contacts until you get to “Tarou 💙” (the blue heart added by him). You couldn’t even bring yourself to delete his number, too emotionally tied to the dick to do so. You decided to keep him on call just in case. You’re so glad that you did now.
Taking a deep breath, you hit his contact and bring the phone to your ears. After three rings go by, he picks up. The first thing he does is chuckle, the silky, sexy voice making your stomach flutter. “Well, this is unexpected,” he chortles. “I thought you weren’t ever gonna call me again. You told me last time was the last time.”
You bite your bottom lip, your heart thundering in your chest. “Things change,” you impatiently reply. “I need you over here now. Are you busy?” You get right to it, not wanting to lose your nerve.
Gojo pauses for a moment, obviously surprised by your random call. “Uh…no,” he finally answers. “Just with Geto and Shoko, but they can watch the rest of this movie without me. I’m guessin’ he’s gone?”
You grip the phone to your ear, swallowing your shame. “You know he’s gone.”
Once again, Gojo pauses, weighing his options. “I’ll be over in ten,” he says and you sigh in relief. “Leave the door unlocked.”
You hang up and immediately begin to prepare for your dick appointment, leaving your phone on the bed. You replace your shirt with a sexy, satin slip and slather on some body butter to make your skin silky and soft. You put on lipgloss and spray on more perfume. You pour yourself a glass of wine to relax yourself. Then you venture downstairs to sit and wait with the door unlocked.
As time passes, you begin to feel sick with shame and second guessing. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe you should call Gojo to go home.
But before you can get up to go back upstairs for your cell, you hear a knock on the door. Your blood pressure nearly shoots through the roof. “It’s me,” Gojo says through the door.
That makes your blood pressure even worse. “C-Coming,” you stammer. Slowly, you slink off of the couch and walk to the door. With a shaky hand, you grasp the doorknob and yank it open like you would yank off a band-aid.
And there he stands: six-foot something and looking sexy leaning against your doorway in a leather jacket, jeans, and white tee that is way too tight on his toned upper torso with a gold chain on his neck that you want to yank on and kiss him. He smiles at you, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Hey, you,” he greets you. “I’ve missed you.”
You feel your stomach flutter at the sight of him, the sound of his voice, and his scent. He always smelled so expensive and sweet from the combo of his cologne and body wash. “I’ve missed you too.” The words come out naturally.
Gojo smirks, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Mmm, I bet,” he replies. At the sight of your frown, he laughs. “I’m kidding. Just wanted to see that sexy eye roll.”
“No jokes, please,” you sigh. “I feel worse even hittin’ you up again after I said I was done. Just come in before I change my mind about this.” You open the door further and let him come in before swiftly shutting the door. He walks into the empty living room, his hands in his pockets. He is quiet. Too quiet.
You don’t blame him for being awkward. It’s been a month since you’ve seen each other or talked. “How are the kids?” he finally asks. You nod, giving him a small, thankful smile for asking. “Good. They’re not here.”
He nods understandably though he didn’t ask. “Would you like a drink?” you ask, nodding at the bottle of wine sitting on your coffee table. “I’ve got juice, water…” He shakes his head, instead stripping off his jacket and placing it on his lap as he sits down.
He leans back against the couch, his long legs spread like the slut he is. “Come sit,” he says, patting the seat next to you. His inviting eyes and smile welcome you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. So you sit down next to him, thigh to thigh, the slight touch making you scream inside.
Gojo wriggles his hands, obviously thinking to himself. “Sooo I don’t know if this question is allowed, but why did you call me over tonight?” He glances at you questionably and you flush with shame. “You know why,” you quietly retort. “You just wanna hear me say it.”
Your student smirks playfully at you. “Can you blame a guy?” he chuckles. “A gorgeous woman hittin’ me up late at night would be any young guy’s fantasy.” You passively shrug, not wanting to be any young guy’s fantasy except his…for tonight, at least. “I’m guessin’ things didn’t go well with the hubby? I thought that dress would’ve worked on him too.”
You look at him, confused, and he sheepishly shrugs. “I may have seen your pics on IG,” he chuckles. “Sorry for bein’ a stalker.”
Though you should be irritated by this, you’re not. Maybe it’s your arousal clouding your judgment, but you find this hot. “He…tries,” you sigh. “But he doesn’t listen and that’s the problem. You do.”
Gojo’s eyes flash with something familiar: passion. Something that has been seriously lacking in your sex life and missing in your husband’s eyes. You turn to your student and fuck buddy, holding his eyes with yours. “Listen to me very carefully,” you firmly say. “Just to be clear, this is just sex. I need something and I’m sure you do too, so we’re just giving it to each other. This isn’t a relationship and I’m not leaving my husband for you.”
Gojo’s brows rise at this statement. “I didn’t think you would’ve,” he chuckles. “Honestly, I can’t see myself playing daddy to your kids though they are adorable.”
“This is the last time,” you continue. “You graduate uni in two weeks which means we’ll never have to see each other again. You fuck me, help me get my nut, and then you leave. No cuddling, no calling, none of that. My husband cannot find out you were here.”
It is the same as it has always been, except this time is the last time. It has to be.
“Am I understood?” you ask lowly. The handsome, young man cocks his head to the side, searching your face for something. You try to keep your face as firm as possible, needing him to understand how serious you are.
Finally, he gives you one of those charming smiles that get your knees weak. “Absolutely, miss,” he purrs. Relief floods your body and you immediately reach for your glass to down the rest of your wine. “Good,” you exhale. You lower the glass down and then turn to him, beaming.
“Now fuck me,” you quietly demand.
You don’t have to tell him twice. Immediately, he wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. You eagerly accept it, even crawling into his lap which he happily accepts by hooking your thighs over his to straddle him. You wrap your arms around his neck like a koala bear and press yourself flush against him, your thighs open and your panties gliding against his fabric-covered cock that you feel is already hard.
Gojo has always been a good kisser. He has the softest, juiciest, pinkest lips you’ve ever kissed in your life. His kiss is slow and passionate yet sloppy. His tongue swirls with yours as you softly moan into each other’s mouths, appreciating the way you taste. His kiss is full of longing and yearning, his hands gripping your ass and thighs as they hike your slip over your hips.
You grind your pussy down into his hard-on, earning a moan of pleasure into your mouth. You pull away from him, staring down into his hooded eyes. “Upstairs,” you exhale. “Please.”
Quickly, Gojo wraps his arms around your waist and hikes you up against him before picking you up and carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. He knows the way like the back of his hand having been here many times before. When he walks in with you, he kicks the door shut with the back of the foot and walks over to the bed before tossing you down.
You giggle slightly as you bounce on the mattress right before he pounces onto you. He begins peppering your body in wet, soft kisses—your lips, your neck, your chest. You run your hands through his soft, white locks of hair, moaning and arching your back at his touch. “I still can’t believe you wanted to see me again,” he murmurs. “I swore you never wanted to talk to me again.”
You sit up and watch him slide down to his knees in front of you, peeling your slip up to reveal your naked breasts and panties. “That’s because you started talkin’ ‘bout me leaving my husband for you,” you breathlessly retort.
Your slip comes up and over your arms, discarded onto the floor. His blue eyes tick up to meet yours as he kisses your stomach, a brow raised. “Correction, miss,” he chuckles. “I said to date me. I never said you had to leave your husband. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
His hands reach up to grope your tits, gently molding and massaging them. As he does this, his teeth lightly nibble at your thighs while attempting to drag your panties down your legs. You moan at the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipples, the sensations making your back arch off of the bed. “Gojo, fuck,” you exhale.
He finally gets your panties off and drags them down your feet one after the other before giving you a cocky grin, your drawls hanging between his teeth. He then lets them fall and pushes your thighs open, biting his lip at the sight of your sobbing, wet cunt, so puffy and pretty for him.
“C’mon now, baby,” he whispers. “Why would I ask you to break up such a lovely marriage for me? Is my dick that good?” He leans in, pressing teasing kisses to your pussy lips and clit that cause sparks of pleasure to explode in your body, coursing through your muscles. “You really wouldn’t stay with your man and just date me?”
He looks up at you between your thighs, his long, white lashes fanning his cheeks. Suddenly, his tongue slithers out of his mouth to toy with your clit and all coherent thoughts and words are stolen from you. “N-N…Oh, fuck yes,” you moan, tilting your head back in ecstasy.
He chuckles, his hot breath making your cunt throb. “Guess I‘ll have to convince you a little more.” He suddenly sits up and yanks on your ankles, pulling you closer to him. “After all, it’s been a month since we’ve been together. We’ll have to make up for lost time.”
“God, Satoru!” You whine. “Just shut the fuck up and use your mouth on this pussy instead.”
He stares at you, shocked by your outburst, and then begins to laugh. “Someone’s eager,” he chuckles. “I like my women eager.” He stares back down at your pussy, tutting at the beautiful, brown rose petals of yours. “Aw, look at my girl,” he coos. “So wet…so lonely. Your hubby ain’t take his time with you tonight, huh?”
He leans in and begins finally tasting you, though his tongue strokes are slow and deliberate to tease you. Make you insane. You can feel yourself quickly becoming impatient, your body squirming for more. “Satoru,” you whimper.
He instantly stops and you realize your mistake when his sapphire eyes pierce into yours, as firm as his tone: “Sorry, who?” He asks, narrowing his brows at you.
You swallow hard, that forbidden name you only call him at the tip of your tongue. “Daddy,” you whisper. “Please just give it to me.”
A pleased smile stretches across Gojo’s lips and he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Gladly.”
And the man damn near dives into your pussy, slurping at your juices and sucking on your clit with his pillowy-soft lips. He alternates between swirling his tongue around your entrance while swiping his nose against your clit and sucking on your sensitive, little button, his hands pinning your thighs apart as far as they will go. You are losing it, your voice box turned on autopilot so your mouth makes whatever noises it feels like.
“God, yes, yes, yes!” You moan. “Right there, ‘Tarou, fuck, right there!” His hot tongue, tinged with cool metal from his tongue piercing, swirls about over your slit and pussy lips, making a mess of your pussy.
“Right there?” He teasingly asks. “Not right here, baby?” You then feel his finger gently probing you, slowly slipping inside of you and aimed upward to rub against the underside of your clit. “Ain’t you weak here?” He chuckles, his tongue still working its magic on your clit.
Your eyes roll back like you’re possessed as your thigh clamp around his head, desperate to keep him where he is. “Fuck,” you whine. “How the fuck are you so good at this?”
Gojo chuckles, feeling cocky and proud at his work. “Only for a needy pussy like this,” he hums. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed this pussy.” He pauses to spit on your cunt, letting it drip with a copious amount of saliva before slurping it back up. “Obviously, she’s missed me too,” he chuckles. “Look how wet she is for me.”
He spits on you again, this time letting it drip down to your ass. You feel his tongue there, the hot, wet sensation making you gasp as his tongue travels from your asshole up to your pussy. “Satoru,” you whine. “Don’t be so nasty.”
His eyes twinkle at you, ever the mischievous man he is. “But you love me at my nasty, baby,” he pouts, his bottom lip poking out. “Don’t you?”
And then he shows you that yes, you do. You really fucking do. When he moves his hands under your ass to hold you up and eats your pussy like he would a bowl of spaghetti, you nearly lose your shit. You grip the sheets and shamelessly grind your hips against his mouth, riding his face as he finger fucks you and eats you out.
This is it. This is what you’ve been missing with your husband. This is what you needed. He listens to your words and your body, paying close attention to how you respond to his movements. He keeps gliding his finger in and out of you while he sucks your clit, quickly bringing you to your peak. Shit!” You gasp loudly. “Satoru, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”
He pulls away from your clit only to command you to do so. “Do it,” he growls. “Give it to me, baby girl. Give me that fuckin’ cum.” His eyes lock with yours and you are suddenly put in a trance as you stare into his ocean blue gaze. “Let go for me,” he purrs, his words just as hypnotizing as his eyes. “I’ve got you now.”
And like a puppet on a string, you do as he commands. With a loud scream-like moan that echoes throughout the bedroom and would no doubt wake your kids if they were here, you cum all over Gojo’s mouth, squirting down his throat and on his pierced tongue. He greedily slurps it all up, teasing your sensitive pussy until he can feel it throb in your mouth, pleading with him to stop.
But he doesn’t. He makes it a point to continue to eat you out even through your orgasm, making it last longer than it should. Your back arches so hard that you’re afraid that it will snap. Your vision blurs, fat tears sticking to your lash line. Your words become slurred and jumbled as you beg Gojo stop: “S-Satoru,” you whimper. “Please…oh, fuck, please! S-Stop! I-I can’t…oh, I can’t…it’s too m-much.”
Fortunately for you, he finally stops and stands between your thighs, his chin and mouth glistening with your cum. He gently takes his finger out of you and sucks on it, staring into your eyes as he does. “Betcha man can’t make you cum like that, can he?” He breathlessly chuckles. He then raises his brow at you, a smirk on his lips. “You’re sure this can’t work between us?”
You ignore him, suddenly feral at the sight of seeing your juices glistening on his lips. Immediately, you sit up and cup his face between your hands before mashing your lips passionately with his, tasting yourself. You taste so good coming off of him.
Then you pull away and stare into Gojo’s twinkling, pussy drunk eyes. “Shut up and take off your clothes,” you growl. “Stand at the edge of the bed.” Once again, he doesn’t need you to tell him again.
With quick fingers, Gojo strips off his shirt, leaving his toned body up for your full indulgence while he works on his pants. The sound of his belt buckle loosening and his zipper coming down excites you, making your stomach and pussy flutter in tandem. A small, excited smile crosses your lips as you watch him strip, his arms, stomach, and pecs making your cunt clench around air.
After his socks and shoes are off and on the floor, off goes his underwear. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, he peels down his briefs and his long, thick cock slaps against his stomach. He is already dripping with precum for you, the pink head glistening with it.
Immediately, you crawl to him on your knees and wrap one hand around the base, noticing how much prettier your nails look wrapped around him. “Look at you, so hard for me,” you purr. “I’ve missed this pretty cock so much.” You begin to stroke him, pumping him up and down while using your other hand to gently massage his balls.
Gojo instantly reacts to your touch and furrows his brows in pleasure. “Ah, shit,” he hisses. “M’sensitive, baby.” You continue to touch him, pulling delicious whimpers and low moans out of you. You smile, feeling powerful and oh-so sexy. “Perfect.”
That’s another thing you love about Gojo: he isn’t afraid to let you take control. He is a big time switch—sometimes taking control of you, but also letting you take the reins and submitting to you. You can’t get enough of it. The power you feel making this beautiful man writhe and beg for you to make him cum is like a drug to you. Your husband would never even imagine doing this for you.
That’s why you give Gojo the best blowjob of his fucking life as a thank you. It is sloppy, passionate, and absolutely amazing judging by his facial expressions and the sounds he makes. He watches you suck and slobber eagerly on his cock while your hands pumps him up and down through slitted eyes, the sight almost too much for him. His moans are almost high-pitched and slutty, the sounds doing so many delicious things to you.
“Mmm, shit, Y/N, that’s good,” he groans. “Let me fuck your mouth already, c’mon.” His hands clench at his sides, desperate to grab your head and force his dick deeper down your throat. You pull away, narrowing your eyes at him. “Um…who?” You sharply ask.
He gnaws on his bottom lip, a blush on his cheeks. “M-Mommy,” he murmurs. “Please let me fuck your throat. I wanna be such a good boy for you.” Those are the magic words. The embarrassing words that your husband wouldn't even think of uttering.
You smile, pleased. “Okay,” you giggle. “Just don’t cum. Save all of that for me.” He nods, a delighted twinkle in his eyes. “Yes, miss.” You then take him back into your mouth and allow him to wrap a hand around your hair before he begins thrusting his hips and fucking your mouth.
With each thrust, he goes deeper and deeper, his cock quickly filling up your throat. You accommodate to his girth and length by opening your throat up more, breathing through your nostrils as Gojo pumps away, using your mouth like he would a pocket pussy. You hold his hips and drag your nails down his toned thighs and stomach, indulging in his muscles.
The sounds coming from Gojo’s gorgeous, pink mouth are sluttier than you’ve ever heard them. He is loud and unashamed, his face screwed in pleasure and his white locks of hair sticking to his forehead. “Fuck, Mommy, m’gonna cum!” He gasps. “Have to…pull out!” Quickly, he does so, leaving you to breathe.
As he pulls away, a string of saliva connects from his cock head to your bottom lip that is coated in spit and pre cum. He begins to slowly stroke his cock, heavy and glistening in his hand, as you wiping your mouth and lick it off your hands. “Mmm, good boy,” you praise him. “You didn’t cum for me at all, but you did leave me a preview.”
Gojo is losing his self control, his hand quickly speeding up on his shaft. “Tell me what you want,” he begs. “Please or I’m about to fuckin’ bust.” You could easily watch him blow his load for you and get off just from that, but no. You want more. If this is the last time, you want to go out with a bang.
You sit up and place your hands on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Lay back and let me fuck you,” you whisper, taking a nibble of his ear. “I wanna ride you.”
As quick as a flash, Gojo jumps onto the bed and leans back, quickly getting into position. He spreads his thighs for you and aims his cock upward, right where you want it. Once you straddle him, he lets you take the reins while he holds onto your hips for balance. “Easy now, mama,” he coos. “Take it slow. You look so beautiful up there.”
You smile, his compliment making you feel warm all over. He never fails to make you feel gorgeous despite your body after your kids and your older age. You take a hold of his dick and begin to grind against it first, nudging it up against your pussy and between your slit.
Looking into his eyes, you slowly press the tip to your entrance and slide him in, emitting a gasp from the both of you. You don’t stop there. You do more, taking it inch by inch, grinding against him as you do. “God, Satoru,” you moan. “You’re so…so—“
”Big?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Thick? I know that’s how you like it, baby. Just take it slow. After all, this is the last time.” He holds your hips and stares up at you, locking your eyes with his. “Do what you want with me. I’m all yours, Mommy.”
And you do. You brace your hands on his chest and squeeze his pecs as you begin to slowly ride him, alternating between grinding and bouncing on top of him. You can’t describe the feeling you feel as you feel his cock plunge in and out of your body, disappearing and reappearing from between your thighs. “God, Tarou, yes!” You moan. “You’re so fucking good!”
Gojo watches you, ogling your jiggling tits and pretty face blissed out above him. You look down at him, watching him struggle to take you. You giggle, cupping his face in your hands. “Does it feel good, ‘Tarou?” You cooingly ask. “Is this pussy too much for you?” You roll your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit as you do.
The sight is too perfect for Gojo and he bites his lip, holding himself back from cumming right there. “Fuck, b-baby,” he moans. “You’re makin’ this so hard for me. Tryna…hold back…fuck!” He grips your hips tighter as you continue to ride him, quickening your pace.
It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to rise, making you ride Gojo’s cock like it’s stolen. “I’m gonna cum again,” you warn him through a gasp. “Want you to cum with me, ‘Tarou. Fill me up.”
Though Gojo is a moaning, whimpering mess underneath you from how good and tight your pussy is, he doesn’t cum. Instead, he grabs your ass the way you like and fucks you back, hitting that spot you love again and again. “Cum for me, Mommy,” he begs. “Please, please, please cum for me. Cum all over that cock.”
He begins to babble—“Please, pretty girl, gimme that cum, fuuuck, please, please”—and his words, soft pants, and moans tip you over the edge. You become aggressive, rolling your hips forward and back, Gojo’s hand now on your clit and working it until you finally cum. “Fuck, ‘Tarou, yes!” You whine as you finally reach your second orgasm, making his cock wet and sticky with your cum.
Your mind goes blissfully blank for a few seconds as your second nut courses through you, making you sink your nails into Gojo’s pectorals and slow your riding as you ride out your orgasm. When you look down at him, he stares up at you almost lovingly, his cock still hard inside of you. “You…didn’t…cum,” you gasp out.
He shakes his head, smiling. “No,” he states. “‘Cause I wanted to watch you first. I wanna finally cum inside you when I’m fucking you stupid…with your permission, of course.” His eyes flash with a fire that you know that only you can put out. You feel that same fire blaze within you.
Your need to be held down and fucked takes over, making you willing to take whatever Gojo gives you. You hold his gaze with yours, gently rolling your hips to persuade him further. “Then do it,” you demand. “Take me, put me however you want me, and fuck me, Satoru. I want you to take control this time.”
Those ocean blues darken and a devious, sexy smirk crosses his lips. “Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles and before you know it, you’re being flipped onto your stomach. Gojo slides off of the bed behind you and grips your ankles, yanking you all of the way to the beside toward him. You squeak and giggle as he does, loving his strength and how unafraid he is to be rough.
You immediately assume the position: hands and knees, your back arched and ass in his face. “So,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, “you want me to take control now, hm?”
Smack! His hand comes down onto your asscheek, making it jiggle. The sharp sensation makes you gasp, your toes curling at the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. “Such a nasty girl,” he sighs. “Gettin’ wet over one little spanking. You really are touch-starved, poor baby.” His hand slides down to massage your ass while his cock slides up against the puffy, wet lips of your pussy. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, his lips at your ear. “I’ll help you. Just do everything I say, okay, mama?”
Feeling his breath fan across your face and his cock slide against your slit makes you want to do anything he wants. And you will. You turn to him, staring at him over your shoulder the way he loves. “Yes, Daddy,” you whimper. “I will.”
That’s all Gojo needs to hear. After planting a kiss on your lips and another smack on your ass, he positions his cock and in one swift motion, slides back home inside of you. “Oh, fuck,” he moans while you let out a gasp, gripping the sheets below you. He doesn’t start off slow either. Instead, he gets right to it, pistoning his hips against your soft, jiggling ass with full intention of making you cum again.
“Fuck, ‘Tarou, sh-shit!” You moan, your knees and arms quickly becoming weak with the force of his thrusts. “Daddy, wait! D-Don’t…oh, fuck!…don’t go so fast! Ohh, my God!”
Gojo cackles at your pathetic stammering and babbling in between your moans and gasps as he drives himself into you again and again, gripping your hips so tight that his fingers dig into the fleshy parts of your ass. “Why?” He puffs. “I’m tryin’ to make you cum. And after all, we don’t know when your man will be home.”
He pauses mid-stroke to hike his leg up on the bed and continues to drive his cock into you, making your jaw fall slack at the deep angle. Every time he thrusts, his balls slap against your clit, filling your body with absolute pleasure. His hand swoops around your neck and squeezes, tight enough to make you feel restricted but not enough to cut off your breath.
“Or do you want him to come in and see you like this?” He teasingly asks. “You want your hubby to see you get this pussy stuffed by your side dick?” He tilts your head up by your neck, emitting a choked moan from you.
“I betcha do,” he giggles. “I bet you want to get caught with your boy toy…show your dude how a real man fucks a woman.”
Your eyes shut and you see your husband walking in under your lids. His expression is written in shock and horror as he watches Gojo pound into you, his wife, from behind, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. You hate to admit it, but the idea of that makes you even wetter.
Gojo continues with that breakneck, agonizing pace, alternating between fast, short pumps and long, slow strokes that make you see stars. His other hand leaves your hip to rub your clit while he continues to choke you, moaning about how pretty you look for him getting railed by his cock.
You feel your third orgasm rising, your pussy tightening around his dick while that knot in your core begins to tighten as well, signaling your end. “Yes, ‘Tarou!” You cry out. “Fuck, m’almost there! I’m almost—“
Your words are cut off when Gojo suddenly stops, putting an end to the symphony of moans and skin slapping against skin. You look over your shoulder at him, confused. “W-Why’d you stop?” You pant. The white-haired hottie smirks at you. “Because I wanna see your pretty face when you cum,” he answers.
He then flips you over onto your back and slides between your thighs, standing between them. Without waiting for you to give him permission, he slides into you again and tosses your leg up, your painted toes pressed against his hard chest. His thrusts now are slow, long, and deep, his cock stroking your pussy walls and making you arch your back.
Your mouth falls open, soft moans and gasps leaving your lips that Gojo relishes. He can’t believe how good you look taking him, your soft titties bouncing and your pussy sliding up and down his dick. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he pants. “Your man is so fuckin’ lucky to have you all the fuckin’ time. What the fuck is wrong with him?”
You think he’s pretty too. His face is flushed and glinting in sweat, his white locks sticking to his forehead. His eyes are dazed with lust and pleasure as he stares down at you taking his cock so well, his brows furrowed as if he’s in pain. You’ve never seen him look prettier than now, completely pussy drunk off of you.
“Fuck me, ‘Toru,” you beg, tossing your arms over your head to grip the sheets. “Fuck me and make us both cum. Do it like you won’t do it ever again.”
Gojo shifts into another mode immediately. It’s like your plea has pushed some button inside of him that makes him shift into a setting where he is merciless, pounding into you with every intention of either A. Making you cum or B. Breeding you with his baby. Or both.
You bounce and jiggle on the bed as he fucks you silly, making the bed creak and moan underneath you. He looks so good on top of you, his white locks hanging in his face, his blue eyes dark and blown with lust. “Really though,” he growls. “What the fuck is wrong with your man to not fuck you like this every night, hm? Why does he neglect such a perfect slut like you?”
He pauses to turn you on your side, hooking your knees to your chest before grabbing your ass and drilling your shit from the side. You are a hot mess—moaning, gasping, crying out for more, your hair unkempt, your skin coated in sweat, and your thighs dripping with your juices and Gojo’s pre-cum, making your pussy a lot sloppier than before and easier for him to fuck as much as he wants to.
“But that don’t better,” he continues. “Because I’m your man now. I’ll fuck you like this any time, any day you want, baby.”
He gives your ass another smack as he continues to fuck you. “You know you want this,” he says, a smirk on his face. “You know that I’m the one for you, Y/N. You know you want me…you’d even want my baby.”
Your loud moaning pauses as his words process. You look up at him, not sure if he’s playing or not. “W-What?” You gasp.
Ding!
You turn your head to look at your phone sitting beside you. You stretch one arm across the bed to grab it, but Gojo beats you to it. While still stroking your shit, he reads the notification and his brows raise. “Huh,” he says. “Looks like your baby daddy is home. He just pulled in.”
“What?!” You shriek, your words breathless and broken as your fuck buddy continues to put you into th mattress like your husband isn’t home. “Gojo, he’s back! H-He’s in the driveway!” You try to push him off, but he pins you down, tossing your phone aside. He goes faster, harder, using your pussy like he would a fleshlight.
He has never gone this hard or this fast before, gripping your ass and hips so tightly that you’re sure he’ll leave bruises. ”What are you doing?” You attempt to ask.
“Don’t move,” he demands. “I need you to cum with me first.” He leans down to press his face into your ear, rutting into you like a wild animal. You grip his back and shoulders for dear life, holding on tightly and moaning into his ear while you sneak a hand between your thighs to furiously rub your clit. “God, ‘Toru, yes!” You moan. “Fuck, right there, ah!”
“You’re mine,” Gojo pants into your ear. “You’re all fuckin’ mine, you understand me?”
Even in the haze of pleasure and above your mingled moans, you can hear the sound of your husband’s car door opening outside and him chatting with the neighbor. Fear bursts inside of your stomach, somehow making your pussy clam tighter around a feral Gojo. “Satoru, please!” You beg. “He’s coming!”
“So am I,” he groans. “But not until you do. Tell me what I wanna hear and I’ll make you cum, pretty girl. Look into my eyes and tell me you wanna be mine.” He leans up to stare down at you, his blue eyes transfixing and hypnotizing you as his giant hands knead your tits and ass.
You stare at him in horror. You want to cum, yes, but to do that, you’d have to tell him everything he wants to hear. Therefore, ruining your marriage and your vows…but then again, you already did that. “N-No!” You shout, delirious.
Gojo frowns and immediately slows down, his thrusts shallow and slow. “No, you don’t wanna cum?” He asks. That devious tinkle in his eye is there as he continues to slowly fuck you, teasing you.
A choked hiccup leaves your mouth, tears wetting your eyes. You can’t take this. This is torture. So you swallow your pride and let yourself break: “Goddammit!” You sob. “I want you, ‘Tarou! I wanna be yours! I’ll be your baby, your slut, your girl! I’ll be whatever you want me to be! Just make me cum!”
A wide, gigawatt smile crosses Gojo’s handsome face. “Good girl,” he chuckles. “Now give me that fuckin’ pussy.” He grips you and speeds up his thrusts, putting his whole back into it, his cock drilling your wet cunt over and over and over again until…
”Cumming!” You whimper. “I-I’m gonna cum!” Gojo’s lips part as he pants and groans at the feeling of you squeezing around him. He leans down, wrapping a hand around your throat. “Kiss me,” he demands. Without waiting for you to do so, he leans in and captures your lips in a sloppy, moan-filled, open-mouthed kiss.
Instantly, you are creaming all over his cock, his kiss swallowing your moans and gasps of release as your body tenses and writhes in his arms. With a few more thrusts and a high-pitched moan, Gojo empties himself into you, a stream of cum leaving his heavy balls and entering you hot, wet pussy, making you quiver and tremble against him. The orgasm is tense and dizzying, stealing your sense of self for a moment.
You then hear your husband’s footsteps click against the brick walkway outside to the front door. Suddenly, you are brought back to reality and to the man you just let fuck you raw that isn’t your husband, but your student.
You don’t get a chance to say anything though because Gojo gently slides his cock out of you. You look down, realizing that he’s still hard. He wraps a hand around himself and begins to vigorously pump his cock in your face, his hand turning into a flash with how fast he’s going. “Not yet,” he growls. “Gimme that pretty face. I want my nut all over that gorgeous mug.”
You don’t say a word and you don’t even move. You can’t. Your body is too exhausted to do so that you just lay there, helplessly watching Gojo jerk himself off in front of you, his pretty face screwed in pleasure and his lips pressed together in concentration. “Thaaat’s it,” he hisses. “That’s my good girl.”
And with a low groan, Gojo gives you a second orgasm, sending ropes of his cum all over your face and mouth. Your lips part in shock, causing some droplets to get onto your tongue. Some also fly onto your stomach, tits, and ass, coating your skin in cum. His cum. You can smell him all over you, marking you as his.
Gojo sighs in relief, his muscles loosening and a light chuckle leaving his lips. He releases his cock, soft and coated in your mixed cum, and tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Now that was a nut,” he whistles. You don’t say anything, still too exhausted to do so.
Jingle-jingle.
You hear your husband’s car keys and then the lock on the door clicking open. You gasp, immediately sitting up and looking at the closed bedroom door. Both you and Gojo look at each other, panicked. “Shit,” you say in unison.
“Honey, I’m home!” Your husband shouts. “I bought you back something!” Like fire has been lit under your ass, you jump off of the bed while Gojo grabs his clothes, hurrying to put them on. “U-Uh, wait, baby!” You shout. “I-I need to get dressed!”
You yank your slip off of the floor and toss it in the hamper beside your closet, unseen and unheard of. You turn to Gojo hurrying to get dressed, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. “Hide under the bed,” you whisper. “I’ll distract him and then you leave.”
Gojo nods and Quickly, you dress into a T-shirt and some gym shorts, checking to make sure all traces of sex are gone, including the nut on your face (thank God you keep baby wipes in your night drawer). You even take your laptop and glasses back out to make it seem as if you were working this entire time. Once everything looks okay, you fix your hair and walk to the bedroom door to greet your husband.
But with your back turned, Gojo makes no move to actually get under the bed.
Too late to realize this, you open the door and smile up at your husband back from a night out. “Hi, honey,” you sweetly say. “How was the party?”
He gives you a smile and takes something from behind his back: a bouquet of colorful, sweet-smelling flowers. “I bought you these,” he says. “I wanted to apologize for…Gojo?”
His eyes trail behind you to meet the young man standing behind you. You turn, horrified to find your fuck buddy still standing there but fortunately dressed. “Hey there, sir!” He politely greets your husband like he didn’t just fuck his wife stupid in their marital bed. “Sorry to show up like this. I had to drop off a last-minute assignment to Ms. L/N and she invited me over with no problem.”
He walks over to shake your husband’s hand like his wasn’t just spanking your ass or wrapped around your throat. “Oh,” your husband says. “Well, I hope everything is worked out now.” He returns Gojo’s handshake. “Oh, it is!” He answers. “Isn’t it, Ms. L/N?”
You feel his hand sneak behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You bite back a squeak, instead forcing a smile. “Y-Yeah,” you stammer. “Everything’s fine now.”
Your husband doesn’t look the least bit suspicious which makes things worse. “Well, good!” He says with a smile. Gojo drops his hand from your asscheeks and gives you both a smile. “I’ll be taking my leave now,” he announces. “Thanks again for your help, Professor. I really appreciate it.”
Unbeknownst to your hubby, he shoots you a wink and walks past you to exit the room. You can feel the walls that had begun to close in on you begin to widen a bit, making you feel like you can breathe again, until—
“Oh, Gojo!” Your husband says, stopping the young man in the hallway. “You can look for me at the graduation ceremony. I look forward to seeing you at the firm.”
You blink at him, confused. “Firm?” You cluelessly ask. “What firm?” Your husband and Gojo stare at you, making you flush. “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” He questions. Gojo gives him a smile and a playful laugh. “I was gonna let her know at the ceremony.”
“Gojo recently got a full-time job at my firm and he’ll be working in my department!” Your husband joyfully states, passing you the flowers. “He starts next month in June with the training. He is quite an intelligent young man, so we intend on keeping him.” He shoots Gojo a proud smile, but your student is too busy smiling at you.
This smile isn't’ at all nice though. It is devilish, almost as if the devil has jumped into Gojo’s bones. “That means you’ll be seein’ an awful lot of me around,” he deviously says. “I’ll see you soon, miss.”
And as he turns to leave, you see in his back pocket your soiled panties.
You watch him go, standing there with your husband's flowers and your student’s cum still dripping down your thighs. ‘Oh, no,’ you lament to yourself. ‘What have I done?’
“Uh, sweetie?” Your husband’s voice drifts to your ears, sounding almost far away. “Why is the bed all wet? Did you take a shower?”
So much for ‘the last time’.
THE END.
#black fanfic writer#smutty smut#my works#my fic shit#black coded reader#jjk smut#satoru gojo x black!reader#gojo smut#gojo x black y/n#gojo x black reader#satoru aka my boo#gojo satoru#jjk x reader smut
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Hey, I really enjoyed the last fanfic you did for me and I was wondering if you could do another Rhea Ripley x Reader where they're watching Backlash at home, and when JD and Finn come out to help Damien Reader forgets Rhea's hurt and says something like " where's Rhea" and Rhea's like "Im right here"
Cause I keep forgetting she's hurt and thinking she's gonna show up.
Backlash
Rhea ripley x fem!reader
Warnings: fluff
You were sitting on the couch with your girlfriend Rhea ripley watching backlash. Damien was fighting against jey uso and out of no where Finn came running out and tried to get jey but was kicked in the face by him and landed flat on his back. I don’t think Damien even noticed that he tried to help let alone him being out there.
“Bro what the fuck! Damien! Pay attention!” You huffed out and crossed your arms as you payed close attention to the match. Rhea gave you a side eye and smiled at your behavior. The dogs came over, including Bella, and sat on y’all’s laps. Luna went over to Rhea and barry went over to you, whining for your attention.
You grabbed him in your arms and wrapped your arms around his body as you continued to watch the match. Barry seemed content and stopped whining. A few moments after jey had Damian pinned down and jey was about to win when jd appeared and grabbed damiens foot and put it on the rope to disrupt the countdown.
Everyone screamed and your mouth opened in shock and you were getting anxious but relieved that jd came out to help, even though you don’t like him. Then you realized that Rhea isn’t out yet. “Where’s Rhea?” You said not realizing that your girlfriend was right beside you. “Im right here?” She said and gave you a dumbfounded look. You looked at her sheepishly and blushed from embarrassment.
“Please forget that I said that.” You stated and she smirked. “Not a chance doll.” She said and you groaned in annoyance. “You are never gonna let me live this down are you?” You said and she shook her head now. “Im telling everyone and tweeting about it now. It’s too fucking funny.” She laughed and went on her phone tweeting and making Instagram stories about it as you sat on the side and pouted at her.
“You’re mean.” You said as Rhea pointed the camera towards you and laughed playfully. She scooted closer to you and started peppering your face with kisses to make up for her teasing towards you. You started to giggle and your face flushing red at the kisses and attention she was giving you. She stopped recording and put “she’s my dumbass but she’s my dumbass and I fucking love her.” She said on her story and posted it and tagged you in it.
You continued to blush and Rhea kept smirking at you as y’all continued to watch backlash together. A few more moments later and Damien pinned down jey and kept his belt. Everyone cheered including you and Rhea then groaned when everything went to shit between the judgement day. “They definitely need mami back because what is this shit? They are so childish my gosh.” You said and Rhea laughed, wrapping her arms around you.
“Is that right?” She asked and you nodded. “Mami makes the rules.” You said shrugging, knowing that you were right Rhea nodded her head at you. “Do you want to watch some trash reality tv now?” You asked her and she smiled. “Of course.” She stated and you went onto her lap facing her and snuggled into her strong arms. Barry whining for y’all’s attention so you put him beside the both of you and started petting him. Rhea turned something on and placed the remote down to wrap her arms around you, securing you as you laid your head on her shoulder. Even though it’s sad that Rhea had to be on break because of her injury, you are still glad for this opportunity to spend time with your girlfriend.
A/n: I hope this is what you wanted @drsheperd-bartley18 ! And I hope the rest of y’all enjoyed! Remember that my Melanie martinez, Billie eilish and the rest of my characters requests are still open! And remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love yall! :)
#rhea ripley x fem reader#rhea ripley x fem!reader#mami rhea#rhea ripley x you#rhea ripley fluff#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley imagine#rhea ripley#demi bennett x fem!reader#demi bennett x reader#demi bennett#wwe smackdown#wwe raw#wwe backlash#wwe
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Ty/Johnny, Various Wilsons; hunting season
Another Kickstarter fill, for the request: I love, love the story of the guy dating into the youngest of a hockey family with all the older brothers threatening him. I think there have been two stories to date. Will you write something in that line for me?
Here's a bit more about them. They've appeared on tumblr before here, which is the exact same prompt because...I filled this prompt right after the Kickstarter closed. And subsequently forgot, because that is how long it has been
Please enjoy laughing at me and, hopefully, this.
Ty didn’t really know what he was getting into, going to the Wilsons’ cottage. Like, sure, the whole ‘dudes out for his blood for besmirching their baby bro (who besmirched his damn self before Ty ever met him, but Ty isn’t suicidal enough to say that out loud)’ — that he knew about. But he hadn’t expected it to be so — remote. Like nobody can hear you scream remote. Like nobody will find your body remote.
It’s not that Ty hasn’t been to cottages before, but they weren’t anything like this. Maybe he just hung out with rich dudes cosplaying at outdoorsy or something — absolutely zero comment about the Wilsons — but usually the cottages were just, you know, nice houses on a lake. Some cool boats and shit to play with. Sure, you’re in nature or whatever, but also there’s a convenience store a ten minute drive away that will sell you a case of beer to go with your bait and your tank of propane. Maybe throw in some ammo, or something from the hush hush fireworks selection.
But this isn’t charming small town cottage. This isn’t even kind of sketchy small town cottage. There’s nothing around but woods, and forget about picking up a case of beer: Ty doesn’t even know if he can get to a neighbor in ten minutes. It’s making him feel very 18th century or whatever. Like if he gets a small cut it’ll get infected and by time the doctor gets there they’ll have to cut his foot off.
“Antibiotics are a thing,” Johnny says, surprisingly patiently. Ty thinks he’s just relieved that he used an example that didn’t involve his brothers. Little does he know, that small cut is Wilson inflicted in this scenario. And every scenario, honestly. Ty’s cause of death is almost certainly going to be Wilson related. “Also, do doctors even do house calls anymore?”
Ty considers this. “So you’re saying I’m definitely getting gangrene.”
“I get it, Ty,” Johnny says. “You don’t like it here.”
Uh oh.
“It’s not that I don’t like it here—“ Ty says. He’s sure it’s very charming when he isn’t sharing it with three dudes plotting his murder.
Well, even Johnny’s brothers weren’t there they’d be just as far from civilization, and they’ve just established that doctors don’t make house calls anymore, so maybe Ty would die of gangrene anyway, and he’s not big on the idea of running out of anything turning into a whole ass trip for provisions, but —
Johnny rolls away from him, so Ty can no longer see his pout, but he swears he can still feel it, tragic Johnny face delivered at the wall. Johnny may, unfortunately, be the Wilson most likely to lead to Ty’s death. Ty isn’t afraid of him at all, though, which is what got him into this whole mess.
“Johnny,” Ty says. “Come on. I like it here.”
“You don’t have to lie,” Johnny says, voice small, and Ty closes his eyes, gathering his strength.
“I like it anywhere where you are,” Ty says. This room, for example. It’s small, the bed taking up practically the whole room, and the mattress is a little lumpy, like nobody updated it even after four members of the family started making NHL money, but it’s got Johnny, so it’s a great room. Fantastic.
There’s a bang on the door, not so much a knock as someone slamming a fist into it. The door knob rattles, but doesn’t open. Ty’s very favorite thing about this room is the lock on the door. “Up and at ‘em, daylight’s wasting.”
“You heard the man,” Johnny says, sitting up, not meeting Ty’s eye. “Daylight’s wasting.”
And why waste daylight when they can waste Ty instead?
“I’ll be right behind you,” Ty says. He spends a couple minutes in the room — not as charming now that Johnny isn’t in it, but Ty still loves that lock — before he starts getting paranoid about what Johnny’s brothers must be saying about him while he isn’t there, and almost runs to the kitchen.
Four Wilsons look up at him, conversation halting. It definitely feels like there was some Ty talk happening.
“You want bacon?” Jeremiah asks from his spot in front of the stove. “Toast? Eggs?”
“Sure, that all sounds good, ” Ty says. The spots on either side of Johnny are taken — he’d like to think that was something his brothers coordinated, rather than something Johnny did — so he sits down across from him. “Any plans for today, or—“
“The guys want to go for a hike,” Johnny says. “But we don’t have to if you don’t want.”
Ty swears he can feel three sets of eyes like laser beams right now. And what could go wrong, going even deeper into the woods?
“No, sure, I love hiking,” he says weakly.
“Great,” Jack says.
“Glad to have you,” Jason says.
“Wonderful,” Johnny says sourly, and it’s only then Ty realizes he just agreed to give up their only chance of time alone.
“I mean—“ he says.
Three sets of laser beams on him again.
“Should be fun,” he mumbles.
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To come home - Kageyama x Reader
for @writingsofanomnivore - Haikyuu Taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain
Coming home is both the best and the worst part of your day.
There's no free seat left and your feet ache from the shoes you thought were cute in the morning. You're tired in a way no coffee can appease but you still have to get through half an hour train ride before you're remotely close to your bed.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pull it out, stress lifting just from the sight of the message.
Because coming home also means coming home to him.
It's not that hard to find him in the crowds, the last drops of evening sun caught in the shadows of his dark hair. His eyes are closed and you'd assume he's falling asleep standing up if you didn't know better.
"Hey," you link your arm with his and lean into him, "I'm here."
Ever since Hinata introduced him to it, Tobio has been trying to meditate. So far with limited success.
"Hey," he presses a kiss to your lips. "Welcome back."
"How was your day?" You ask, hand in his as you cross the street. There's a Konbini not far from your shared apartment and you listen to his recollection of today's training as you fill your basket with fresh produce.
"Blueberries?" You ask, holding up a box. He nods, loading his arms with milk, cheese, and some yogurt. "Buy two," he says, "You'll probably eat one on your own. Anyway, while I was practicing my jump serve, Hoshiumi-"
Arms heavy with groceries you make the short trek down the street and up the stairs to your apartment. It's your turn now to tell him about your day and you're in the middle of explaining something when one box of Blueberries slips from your grasp.
You can see it fall, dread the moment it will hit the ground and catapult its content everywhere but Tobio is a little faster and picks it out of the air like he's receiving in a match.
"That was close," you gasp but he snorts, clearly insulted by your lack of faith. "I'm sorry," you lean in to kiss him again, your hands still occupied, "You're my hero."
-
Coming home with him is still your favorite thing in the world. You love coming home earlier and getting everything ready, surprising him with his favorite meal ready to eat and seeing his eyes light up on the doorstep. You love coming home to him, hair damp from a shower, his figure drowning in the comfiest clothes he owns, the one and only meal he's perfected making bubbling on the stove.
But coming home with him just hits differently.
How you giggle in the doorway, somehow always in the way of the other person, stumbling over and around each other, pressing kisses to every speck of skin you can reach just to annoy, distract, confuse.
Tobio loves playing Tetris with the Fridge and you don't mind getting started with Dinner, inspiration overflowing after you've spent picking out ingredients at the store. There's the chitchat that flows into each recipe, the jokes he remembers from last week or how you suddenly remember that Yachi invited you over for the weekend and you still need a present to bring along.
Tired feet stretched out under the table when Dinner is finally ready and the satisfied hum at the back of your throat when it's exactly the thing you'd been craving all day.
-
"What are you doing?" Tobio asks, towel in his hands. He finished doing the dishes while you freshened up a little and grabbed your Tablet on the way back.
"I wanted to do some online shopping."
"What are we in for today?" He slips onto the couch, curls around you like the world's cuddliest snake, chin hooked over your shoulder. "You didn't buy the shoes you picked out last week."
"Yes, because I told myself if I didn't think of them again on my own I'd take them out of the cart. Now you made me think of them."
"Oh," he grins, "So I get to buy them for you?"
"No, I get to buy them for myself."
"But I wanna spoil you," he tries to grab the Tablet from your grasp but you've learned to defend yourself against Tobio's bouts of generosity. It's not that you don't like it when he does it, but he's yet to learn a healthy balance. And sometimes, you don't really wanna buy the stuff you put in your cart, you just want to look at cool things and put them away for later consideration.
"Not those shoes," you beg, "Let me find some other ones."
"Fine," he eventually relents, huffing as if this is a great sacrifice for him. Not that he falls silent, though. He's got an opinion on everything.
"They're too brown. Ugh, not brown enough. What even is that strap? Trying to strangle your ankles or what? No... This dress reminds me of Hinata in our orange jerseys, that's not the connection I wanna make. Oooooh, this one!" He interrupts your scrolling and taps the screen violently, opening another tab.
"The dress, the purse or the jewelry?" You ask, a little confused. It's a nice fit, you suppose, but you're not sure what he's getting at.
"Neither. She's wearing a hat and you need one for the summer. You always get sunburn on your ears."
-
There's a certain type of coziness that can only be reached when you're ready for bed, curled up in the comfort of clean sheets, waiting for your partner to step out of the bathroom.
You can hear Tobio brush his teeth and just the sound of it, so well-known you could probably pick him out of hundreds of others, lets you relax just a little bit more.
By the time he slips into bed with you, your eyes are already closed and you manage little more than a "Love you T-" before you slip away.
-
Tobio drops a kiss on your forehead, checks if you're really asleep by snipping his fingers next to your ear, and when he's satisfied with the results, picks your Tablet from your bedside table. The password is the day you two got together so he doesn't need long to find what you had been looking for not long ago.
He might not be the smartest guy in the world, but at least he knows what he's getting you next...
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#my writing#haikyuu x you#haikyuu!!#hq x reader#haikyuu drabbles#kageyama x reader#kageyama tobio#kageyama fluff
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i am sorry it is monday i am going to be mean 🖤 supercorp
Thanks for the ask! I won't even make a big deal about you and @sssammich poking me for the same heart-wrenching prompt, but I will be using 'artistic licensing' and the skill of 'splitting hairs' to get this one across the line.
for context, this is part of an AU i've written random bits for, so you're about to be thrown right into it.
- - - - -
“Hey Kara?” Lena asked from the bar cart.
“Yes?”
“What would it be?” she continued, walking to the couch. “If you were human. What's the thing you'd want to experience?”
“Food.”
The answer comes so automatically that it almost draws Lena into a laugh. Instead she leans back into her couch, swirls the lowball of peaty scotch, and closes her eyes, imagining for the hundredth time a face that didn’t exist.
“Anything specific?”
A moment passed. The voice hummed in thought; another diversion from Lena’s code.
“Does a buffet count?”
“Some might call that cheating,” Lena smiled. “Lex would call it a loophole.”
“What do you call it?”
Lena opened her eyes; glanced at the ceiling as though Kara’s voice was coming from the stars. Instead it was just the usual speaker floating overhead.
“I think it fails to grapple with the spirit of the question.”
The room, white and bright and sterile, felt like a still-life painting with the white noise that followed. Lena wondered if she’d scared the AI off when-
“Potstickers.”
“Potstickers?” Lena parroted, unable to contain a laugh. She set her glass down to analyze the AI’s activity on her tablet.
It made some sense: every cuisine had its own form of food-wrapped dish from dumplings to pierogies to empanadas to arancini, and it was only natural for the AI to find a common link and answer based on that, but when Lena scanned the code for evidence the AI was responding to that thread, none existed.
“What calculation brought you to that?” she asked. She continued to scowl at the cloud of connections that weren’t remotely linked.
“Because they’re pillowy morsels of goodness with a contrasting soft texture and a crunchy bottom side. The plume of steam when bitten into is just perfection,” Kara said, fading into what Lena heard as a sigh. It only made her brow furrow deeper.
She’d ask Sam tomorrow. In the mean time:
“Can we order some?”
“Pardon?”
“Potstickers.”
“I… it’s late. Maybe another time.”
“Of course, Ms. Luthor. My apologies,” Kara replied.
“It’s Lena, Kara.”
“My operating system-”
“Won’t allow it, I know,” Lena huffed.
“Precisely.”
Only a second passed before: “It is getting late, and your sleeping patterns have shown symptoms of insomnia. Might I suggest saving the rest of your 25 year Caol Ila for another time?”
The shift from casual to formal was instantaneous. Lena swallowed, reminded of the algorithm; of the hardwiring and artificiality of the entire experiment.
The reminder carried Lena to bed as Kara went through her evening protocol: locks, lights, and temperature adjustments. Silence followed their routine; a contrast to their last few nights. It shouldn’t have bothered Lena as much as it did. When she’d finally settled in and Kara flicked off the sidelight, Lena had fallen into a familiar state of loneliness. She determined it was irrational and rolled on her side.
“Goodnight, Kara,” she called as she always did. She waited, listening for the familiar return that never came. With a pang that felt far too similar to heartache, she closed her eyes. A beat of more silence then-
“Can I change my answer?”
It burst through the apartment and nearly sent Lena catapulting from her bed. “What?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to - oh gosh, and it’s late and I’m not supposed to-”
“No, no, that's ok,” Lena replied hastily. She pretended her heart wasn’t racing and stomach wasn’t in her throat - all things Kara was surely logging. “Just scared me a bit.”
“I can tell, Ms. Luthor.”
“Right.” She couldn’t hide it if she tried, so Lena simply rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling;
“What would you change it to?”
“Touch.”
“Touch,” Lena parroted again, softer this time, letting the idea sink in. “Anything specific?” she asked, feeling a sense of deja vu hang over her. She half expected Kara’s answer to repeat, but instead-
“Warmth. Something living.”
“Like a dog?” Lena offered, her voice raspy and mouth far too dry.
“While that would definitely rank in the top five, I’d much rather feel the warmth of a human. A companion, as they call it.”
“I see,” Lena breathed out. “You would want to experience a partner; a boyfriend perhaps-”
“Or girlfriend,” Kara replied simply, and Lena gripped tighter at the duvet she wasn’t aware of strangling. “As something that can’t, touch feels like the most intimate of functions. A hug, a handhold, a kiss.”
“A kiss?”
“Yes, Ms. Luthor.”
“I see,” Lena replied, because anything more might have broken her chest open.
“Good night, Ms. Luthor.”
“Good night, Kara.”
Lena knew better than to crave a thing that couldn’t be. She knew better than to feel an attachment for a machine. She knew better than to dwell in the fantasy of a real Kara Z walking the streets of National City, of living a life where potstickers and hugs were her happiest experiences, or of being someone who could ever want intimacy with someone like Lena.
She knew better, yes, but that didn’t stop her from imagining as a lone tear fell in the privacy of darkness.
- - - -
ask game
#the 'her' AU#ask game#sideguitars#qs with quinn#thanks for the ask!#did i split hairs? maybe. was there a kiss? ...definitely*.#*in Lena's mind
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can we get some aruani wedding headcanons please 🙏👀
Hello!
But AruAni wedding headcanons 🥺
I like to think that Aruani's "real" wedding, i.e. the one that's not there just for a political display will be a very quiet one with just their closest friends: the Ambassadors + Levi & Co.
Well.... As quiet as it can be, anyway. Jean, Reiner, Connie and Gabi are ready to bring the house down.
It will be a open-air seaside wedding! Either a remote beach or a cliff overlooking the sea, complete with the wind whipping at their clothes and the sea stretching vast and wide, endless to the horizon. Big, beautiful clouds float in the sky, changing colours as the day draws on.
Whether sandy beach or rock-studded grassy cliffside, it means Annie's wedding dress will be short-with the hem somewhere around the calves or below knee-for ease of movement. She's quite happy with that, really. The easier it is to manspread, the better.
But the rest of the dress is a fucking pain in the ass. Stupid strapless bra, stupid underwires, stupid everything. If she could, she'd have gotten married in a hoodie and shorts.
She can't seem to get rid of Hitch and Pieck's fussing over her hair and clothes and pooh-poohs their hard work (secretly she's grateful because she couldn't have done shit on her own).
Meanwhile Armin is a panicky, teary, sobbing MESS.
He's also driving Jean nuts with his fidgeting - everything on his person has to be perfect for Annie! Perfect tie! Perfect suit! Perfect flower-in-pocket thingy! It gets so bad to the point that Mikasa has to tie him up with rope and make him sit still in a corner.
Hitch has also been drinking right from sunrise and shows no signs of stopping. After bothering Annie, she's taken to sitting at a table and admiring everyone that passes by, man or woman. Reiner is very scared of her.
Onyankopon is officiating and he's got the perfect vows ready and whatnot.
Levi doesn't want wine, he wants TEA, and he's satisfied when he's got it. He also watches everyone around him in their suits and dresses, and feels a tad sad that his kids are all so grown up now.
Not very sad when Gabi's cheekily threatening to wheel him into the sea or tip him off the cliff tho. RIP Papa Levi, your parenthood will never cease.
Close to the time of the wedding, Armin's nervous and jumpy in his room, head in his hands and telling himself to calm down. Nobody understands why he's so anxious. (The real reason is because he's minutes away from being called "Annie's Husband" and the poor boy's so happy he's having heart palpitations).
I think there has to be a secret medical team on standby.
Annie, on the other hand, is very quiet in her room, sitting before the mirror. On either side of her are Pieck and Hitch, also quiet after their endless teasing. Annie's dazed. This is really happening? A day has come when she's actually getting married? She didn't even think she'd live this long, but here's a big bouquet in her hand and the dress she's wearing is finely tailored. Pretty. Beautiful.
After a long silence staring at each other through the mirror, the three of them start crying.
But nevermind any of that. The only one doing the real heavy work here is Mikasa, alternating between Armin's room and Annie's, telling them both firmly "You can do this." like it's a mission.
At the flowery arch altar(?) thingy, Armin's ready to receive Annie and so anxious he's sweating bullets.
But when Annie makes her appearance, being walked by Connie (ye, he's the best), there are TWO men who burst into tears. None other than the bridegroom and also Reiner, because he's pathetic and emotional.
It's a bit annoying really.
Also Armin's maybe struggling to breathe. Somebody please check his pulse.
But can anyone really blame him tho? She's BEAUTIFUL!!!!! Outshining the glittering sea.
Not only him tho. The blush on Annie's face is powered by the fucking sun.
And can anyone blame her?! He's DASHING!! It should be criminal for a man to look that good.
(*whispers* she's gonna jump him later in the night before he's even unbuttoned his suit)
When Annie meets Armin at the altar, Mikasa's the one that's the most proud. She's got tears in her eyes. It's a beautiful wedding, and these two are so dreadfully, horribly, terribly in love. There's a small pang of sadness in her but overall, she's incredibly happy for her little brother.
When prompted for the "I do's", Annie's a bit breathless when she says it while Armin's honestly doing his best not to say it before Onyankopon's even asked him.
The kiss is suspiciously too innocent.
Pieck loudly snickers from the back that they shouldn't be anywhere near the newlyweds that night.
The post-wedding shenanigans are insane!!!!!
DANCING AND DRINKING EVERYWHERE!! Best man and Best Woman speeches, plenty of embarrassing flashback stories, plenty of laughter, plenty of everyone getting very pissed off at each other.
If it's by the beach, the boys carry Armin off and throw him into the sea.
The same with Annie tho Mikasa tells her to wear some granny panties in advance. Hitch isn't having any of it. The fuck do you mean granny panties?! Why?! Well, to protect against sand in the coochie ofc. Hitch still won't have it because ugly.
FUCK THE WEDDING SUITS AND DRESSES AND EVERYTHING! ITS TIME TO SPLASH AROUND IN THE WATER!!!!
Everyone is soggy and wet and very hot
The Ackermans too are no match for the waves. SOGGY AND WET AND HAPPY, I TELL YOU!!!!
... Ah, there is a wedding cake.
But Connie mixes up birthday and wedding etiquette and ends up slapping it on Aruani's faces.
Falco accidentally drinks alcohol again and passes out. Why is he always accidentally getting wine in his mouth? Smh.
To be as annoying as possible, everyone keeps Armin and Annie away from each other as best as they can. Not a moment together! CRIMINAL!
When they assemble to take a photo together, the photographer spends at least 20 minutes under the camera cloth ordering adjustments in their positions. It's frustrating. Reiner's boobs are blocking everything else, ugh. Fucking hell, Reiner.
(But when the photo finally comes out, days later, it's so beautiful. All of them, grinning bright and some caught mid-laugh, hair and clothes windblown, flowers in their hands, holding each other close, sunlit and golden and so very happy.)
Well into the night and finally alone at last, Annie finds, that instead of being relieved, she's even MORE annoyed.
Because Armin's being insufferable.
He's all "wife this" and "wife that" and "my beautiful pretty adorable wife" and she's so embarrassed she could just. die.
But no. No die. Only wedding night activities 🌚🌝.
#ask#rorynni#aruani#attack on titan#headcanon#fluff#aruannie#armin arlert#annie leonhart#shingeki no kyojin#aot#snk#armin x annie#arminarlert#annie leonhardt#alliance
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i had a fanfic idea...
Im sorry if my english is... bad but my natal language is spanish maybe had some errors
This is the idea, this is an alternate vision of the game, it tells the events seen by Rolan and there will also be some changes that will be noticed if you have played....
WIP
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--Rolan! We'd all be grateful if you'd move a finger for us.-- said Lia, annoyed, grabbing a broom handle to carefully lower the book the Tiefling was holding, he just looked at his sister with annoyance for interrupting such an interesting rereading.
--Your damn book won't go away if you do something productive, so… do something before they see you slacking off again. --As she finished her sentence she threw the broom handle at him so that he could catch it, annoyed he closed the book with one hand while holding the broom tightly.
--For once, I'm not slacking off, since that damned day I haven't had the time to resume my studies in magic, I can't present myself before the great Lorroakan without at least being up to the task, you and Cal should understand that.-- Rolan said rather disgusted. Lia just looked at him with folded arms and an arched eyebrow.
Rolan just sighed heavily, putting his belongings away for later to do the chores in the grove, as if they needed a wizard's apprentice to do anything of real use.
To its surprise they did need help from a wizard for mundane tasks, fire control of old lady Okta's cauldron, helping the strange named Ethel move her wares as she worked on her potions and lotions, all that was left was to support the cloying couple, Bex and Danis who were carrying a heavy box full of assorted foodstuffs, When the work was done the pair gave each other a cloying nose kiss. Such an action caused Rolan to unconsciously sigh and roll his eyes in discomfort; when the couple noticed his reaction, they laughed innocently.
--Don't be closed minded, you scare anyone who wants to come near to see your magic.-- Dannis said with a sly grin, his wife Bex nudged him with her elbow.
--I don't have time for nonsense like that, I have an even greater destiny in magic instead of wasting valuable time cuddling in a hole.-- Rolan said with a firm stance before retreating.
--You'll see in time, it's not something you'll control.-- Bex said in a high voice with a sing-song tone. The tiefling back just slapped his head at her comment.
When the golden hour arrived, free of any chores, Rolan walked to a somewhat remote wooded area near the beaches so as not to attract the attention of the group of refugees and the goblins neither
The sight of the golden touches of the sunset makes him sigh nostalgically for his old home with his two brothers, his untouchable world that they enjoyed watching the same sunset with the sea touching the water making an incredible glow and his two brothers witnessing his progress in magic preventing him from hurting himself or others in the process.
But now things had changed; Lorroakan's letter, the fall of Elturel, his stay with the refugees was something he had to adapt to if he was to arrive safely with his brothers at Baldurs gate.
Determined, he opened some parchment scrolls that were in his bag.
--Well… I can do this, I must be worthy.-- He whispered to himself, setting his possessions aside to avoid any accidents.
He closed his eyes in focus and positioned himself correctly before pronouncing the following words.
--"Detono"--As he pronounced the words correctly he has successfully conjured the Thunderwave without ruffling a hair, without harming himself, he had perfected the Thunderwave. He smiles, excited to put it to the test when the opportunity arises.
Inspired, he dedicated the next few hours to practicing different spells without rest. This is his chance. Without interruptions, just him, just magic, just inspiration alone.
The sky suddenly cracked.
He looked up at the sky in amazement, as a child he would be completely surprised but after seeing how Elturel fell, anything is possible. A burning Nautiloid of Mindflayers could be seen falling from the sky, heading for the coast.
Picking up his stuff he rushed to the Grove, the place will be crawling with goblins, mercenaries, mindflayers. Best not to be seen or he would accidentally expose the shelter and endanger his siblings.
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A Hellish Love Story // Pt. 3
Pairing: Vox x F!Reader
Warnings: Cursing, NSFW 18+, Oral (male receiving), Masturbation
A/N: This is the first time I have ever written anything remotely smutty... that should be a warning in itself. That being said I had so much fun writing this part and can't wait to see where my brain ends up taking this. Anyways, enough of me yappin. Enjoy :))
---
Vox couldn't help the smirk that crossed his screen as he watched your nervous form slowly approach his desk. Before he was able to speak again, he heard your tiny voice squeak out.
"M-Mr. Vox... Sir... I am so sorry for being late this morning. This is the first time that I've done this. I-It was an honest mistake and I promise that-" But before you could finish your sad excuse of an apology, Vox interrupted you by raising one of his hands.
"Y/N, it's quite alright! I know that you are always good about being on time," He said smoothly and laid back in his chair.
He watched as your anxious expression slowly turned into one of confusion.
"Oh... so you're not gonna feed me to your sharks?" You asked nervously, rubbing the back of your neck- trying your best to avoid any kind of eye contact. Vox must have thought you were joking by the way a small chuckle escaped his lips.
Did he not know that you were being dead serious??
"Oh quite the contrary! Please, have a seat," He said motioning towards one of the black, leather seats situated across from his desk.
You eyed him suspiciously before doing as you were told. Once situated in the chair, you got to take a good look at the TV demon in front of you.
You always thought that he looked good while passing him in the halls. But being up close, you were able to notice details about him that you didn't see before. One of those not so little details being that he was utterly handsome. How could a man with a TV for a face look so-
Vox caught you in your brief stare, causing a light blush to come across your cheeks. He sent a smirk your way and watched as you fidgeted in the seat.
Oh, he was loving every second of this.
"So if I'm not in trouble then... why am I here?" You asked quietly, not entirely sure you wanted to know the answer.
"I am so glad you asked! While going through some writing submissions, I came across the one that you submitted a while back-" At the mention of your work, your ears perked up- a mental victory for Vox, "- And I just wanted to start off by saying WOW! I am thoroughly impressed with what I read,"
You had to be dreaming.
No way this was actually happening.
"Are- Are you serious?" You asked with a beaming smile that made Vox's heart rate spike.
"Of course! You truly have a gift,"
The best part, he wasn't lying.
-- flashback to the previous night --
Upon arriving back at the VVV tower- Vox instantly went to look for your writing submissions.
He hired people specifically to go through and narrow down the best submissions of the month. The narrowed down bunch would then be sent to himself- for him to ultimately decide whether or not they're television worthy.
Sitting down at his desk, Vox quickly found your file. Much to his surprise, you had only submit one over the course of the years that you had worked for him. Regardless, he opened it and began reading.
Vox wasn't much of a reader but even he could tell that you were good at what you did. He wanted more.
He needed more.
Your words flowed beautifully into one another, captivating the overlord almost instantly. It was truly a sinister love story. A forbidden love between an angel and sinner. Oh and his favorite part?
Without a doubt- the smut.
But this wasn't your average porn script.
It was erotic yet, truly passionate. Vox didn't know how but, you were able to capture and convey the connection that the main characters had with each other. Hell, he felt it.
But like- actually felt it.
While reading the alluring words on one of his monitors, he began to palm himself through his tight dress pants. As he moved on, he found himself becoming more hot and bothered. Soon enough, he freed his stiff erection from the confines of his pants.
With a tight hand, he began a slow pace on himself. Vox felt truly immersed in the scene he was reading- maybe a little too immersed.
He imagined that it was you and him performing the scene- not the characters you had created.
"Her lips slowly wrapped around the tip, tasting the salty arousal that began to ooze out. She relished in the groan that her beloved ushered out above her. Ingrid's Y/N's lashes fluttered as she began to ease his my cock down into her throat. She pulled back fully- watching with seductive eyes as a string of spit connected the two of them us. Ingrid She placed both hands around Luca's my slobbery shaft and gave an oh so innocent look. Teasingly, she began to kitten lick at the tip. Before he I knew it, her mouth and hands began a delicious pace. Her head bobbed up and down with the added sinister twist and tug of her hands. She moaned quietly as Luca's my hands found a tight grip in her hair-"
Vox found himself panting slightly as his impending climax was about to release. He glanced down at the hand that was tugging at his rock hard cock. He groaned imagining you underneath his desk; looking up with fire in your eyes as your small hands moved along his length, a sweet smile playing on your lips.
He couldn't help but moan loudly as his orgasm crashed over him. His hips bucked furiously up into his hand- imagining it was your pretty mouth instead. He shuddered at the thought of you swallowing every last drop of his seed.
Vox felt himself blue screen before inevitably causing a blackout throughout the entire pride ring.
After coming down from what had to of been his most intense orgasm yet, Vox had all the information he needed.
He also needed to get rid of those damn submission reviewers.
-- back to the present --
"Wow Mr. Vox, that's very kind of you. Thank you sir, it truly means the world," You replied, trying your best to contain the excitement bubbling inside you.
"You deserve all the praise in the world Y/N," Vox said with a small smile. You felt yourself blushing again, not used to all this praise.
You also didn't fail to notice the tiny heart beat that occurred between your crossed legs, one that you hadn't felt in a long time.
You tell yourself it's because of how much your work matters to you. Definitely not the fact that your sexy ass boss is staring at you with a panty-dropping smile.
Yeah, definitely not that.
"I want to make that little script of yours into something more. It has all the potential to become a hit movie! That is of course, if you were interested," As soon as the words left Vox's lips, you shot up eagerly.
"YES! I- I mean yes. That would be a great opportunity for me sir," You down played how excited you were but deep down, you knew he could see right through you.
Vox couldn't help but think of how adorable you looked when excited. He wanted to make all your dreams come true if it meant he got to see you like this more often. Who was he kidding?
He already planned on making it happen.
"I am so glad to hear that," Vox rose to his feet and slowly walked around his desk to where you now stood.
You gulped lightly as he towered over your tiny frame. He examined your features briefly before extending his hand out.
"I can't wait to start working with you"
---
A/N: Sorry for this being short but the next few parts are in the works ;)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin vox#vox#vox the tv demon#vox x reader#vox smut
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“How come I always end up calling you when I can’t fall asleep?”
Maybe he wouldn't pick up this time, she tries to tell herself. Maybe it would just go to voicemail. And then they could pretend that she never called.
Except he wouldn't, probably. Pretend that is. But she'd hold on to her dignity, maybe enough that the next time she saw him, saw that horrible smile on his face, she could meet his eyes for long enough to get through the lecture. Get through the three hours of supervising the undergraduate lab section. Get through the door.
She doesn't want him to pick up. Not when it's two a.m. Again. Not when she's still half drunk, and she can't see the stars beyond the storm clouds on the roof that Darcy left her on somewhere between her second and fourth wine cooler.
She didn't even want to go with Darcy anyway. She's not sure why she did, but the music that she can still somewhat hear from across the quad is starting to give her a headache.
Or maybe it's the long, drawn out seconds between the first ring and the third, or now the fourth. She could just hang up. She could.
But she's not going to. Not until she gets his voicemail.
Because...
Because it's been a crappy night. Because her piece of junk computer crashed while she was mid-compiling.
Because doing her postdoc when she's barely older than most of the seniors has never endeared her to anyone, her weirdly outgoing roommate excepted.
The call connects.
"It's 2:37, Foster."
So much for the small mercies of his voicemail.
The comically put-upon sigh helps dampen the nauseous feeling in her stomach though. She's mostly pretty sure she shouldn't call him.
"The weather forecast lied."
A click. What sounds like blankets shifting.
Oh. He's never been in bed before.
"I could be on a date," he'd said, the last time that she'd called him.
"At four in the morning?"
"It could be a very good date."
She'd hung up on his obnoxious laughter.
But maybe--
Maybe--
"Foster, it's a Tuesday. Why are you drunk on a Tuesday?"
Is it? She probably knows that, but the frustration and the article edits and the lack of sleep are finally starting to catch up with her. The crappy alcohol still working its way through her system is probably not helping things either.
"Were you asleep?"
More blankets shuffling. An over-dramatic sigh.
"Some of us are covering a 9 a.m. lecture this morning, Foster." A beat. "Do you need me to get you?"
He's probably not on a date then. Not that she cares. Not that--
"--Foster? Jane?"
Oh. Had he been saying something? "Huh? What?"
"You're usually a lot more sober when you call me in the middle of the night."
"I don't call you in the middle of the night."
A laugh. The slide of a drawer being opened.
"Of course not, Foster. Where are you?"
She doesn't though. Not really. He's just an assistant professor whose lab sections she's usually stuck babysitting. And maybe she stops by his lectures sometimes. But only because the theoretical framework--
"--Jane?"
"Why are you calling me that?"
"Because it's your name, Foster. You do still remember your name?"
He sounds less asleep now, less soft. She's not sure that she likes it very much.
"Now, Jane, are you going to tell me where you are?"
Why would he--
"The roof," she tells him, almost despite herself.
"The roof. Alright. Which roof?"
She didn't bother checking when she and Darcy climbed up here. One of the residence halls. She'll figure out which one when she sobers up enough to climb down though.
"Jane?"
“How come I always end up calling you when I can’t fall asleep?”
She isn't sure she really meant to say that.
A pause.
"I do hope you aren't trying to sleep on the roof, Jane."
"You're not very good at conversation and you're pretty much always a jerk."
"...I see." She thinks there's something off about the way he says it. She doesn't think she likes the way it sounds. "Should I call campus security instead?"
"No."
"Will you at least tell me where you are, Foster? I've got 300 freshma--"
"--I like that you pick up."
She really doesn't mean to say that either.
"I--Okay?"
"Um. Yeah."
Maybe the wine coolers were an even worse idea than she'd thought. She--
"Okay."
At least he doesn't sound upset anymore. It shouldn't-- the feeling in her gut is probably from the questionable guacamole she'd had. Or those tasteless little cocktail sausage things.
"Do you want me to come get you, Jane?"
It's 3:14 a.m. He'd said he has a class.
"Why would you?"
She hears his car keys. She knows he lives a decent drive off campus.
"The same reason you called."
Edit: I wrote a follow up.
#fanfiction#Lokane#Jane Foster#Loki#Non-magical grad school AU I guess.#So I was thinking I could use this for Labyrinth.#But then I remembered you wrote Drunk Dial and I just can't top that.#Like not even remotely come close to that even.#So have some half-assed trash that I struggled with over multiple attempts to write this prompt.#I give up trying to make this not suck.#This just up and went where it wanted to go. I'm not particularly happy.#Also taking over and under bets about how many times I failed to make/drink tea today. It's very sad.#April 10 2023#Edit: A/N that I feel I should add. I know a lot of postdocs are research only.#The university I did my undergrad at still made a lot of the ones in STEM babysit other people's lab sections.#It made for a lot of not particularly happy postdocs.
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no other ship in shonen will ever surpass them
#this scene was so iconic fr#like im sorry but no other ship in shonen even comes close 😭#so many times ive had other ships in newer shonens hyped up#only for me to finally read the series and be completely disappointed bc they never come even remotely close to what narusasu had 😔😔#narusasu
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when your parents make a big deal out of visiting for the weekend for your birthday and you know it's not actually going to happen and then still get disappointed when it doesn't happen :/
#they said they might try to come down tomorrow but that's not going to happen either#and like i know my disappointment is compounded by some other stuff#like how a while back my friend was saying he and his girlfriend had talked about wanting to do something for my birthday this year#that obviously didn't happen (and i knew it wouldn't because he's always flaky) and they ended up doing the usual couples valentine's date#also friday was the day that people leaving our program find out where they'll be placed for the next year#so all of those people are doing stuff to celebrate that this weekend#pretty much everyone i'm even remotely close with this year is leaving and i'm staying another year#and i'm just so fucking lonely
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See I think if I'd been born a guy I wouldn't be this pathologically avoidant trying to plan my career because there are plenty of situations you can find as a cis man where you just Do Tasks in awkward silence and you can get to those as a woman but you have to go through the rings of hell socializing first and then besides, a lot of those jobs already have so many men that you stand out when the whole point was you Don't want to do that
#you gotta be god's strongest soldier to survive this shit and i am not! i am god's weakest most pathetic soldier!#i survived five years of customer service crying weekly and getting harassed and being a baby about it#when i got promoted no one would listen to me and it made me constantly anxious and then so tired it took me a year to be able to#think about having a job as something remotely positive and stop crying about it#idk how other women are doing this shit a guy treats me like his sexy servant and i feel BAD and upset for years#and think of what he said 7 years later and they only touched me on the shoulder and made comments other people go through worse!#but i am not strong or determined i just want to go through my life in peace and stop talking to people altogether#it wasn't just guys who treated me badly older women made fun of me and called me lazy and stupid#tutoring was fine but i felt like i was putting on that same performance and at that point it all felt so awful i just. didn't want to#i can see no way out of talking to people for the rest of my life and it gets me down sometimes#i know i get to come home but even then i will probably need people to live with#i basically only like my family and close friends talking to me sometimes even that is hard#sometimes it's way easier to type and feels less awful#i think i have to just keep on keeping on until i can finally get good enough to freelance edit and code that's the only thing i can think#of doing that doesn't make me cry#emails are fine they suck but i don't have to control my face and tone so.
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The storm god of catastrophe, Amatsu! A fitting theme for such an exhilarating battle.
Fun fact, this track is in 148.5 bpm. Wacky.
#amatsu is seriously so badass. nothing comes even remotely close.#capcom went back to remake this theme for sunbreak but then they were like 'wtf no actually this is flawless.' legendary#absolute gigachad move.#monster hunter#monhun#mh#my music <3
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