#That's a rookie's mistake...I should be better than this...

[fayewoodss]

unfortunately their con merch seems to usually be a bit disappointing so I don't think you're alone in that! there's a reason the critique is usually "bad designs". if you want to talk about it I think people will know you're coming at it from a place of wanting it to be better

(besides, we know the dream branding payoff is that it's great quality, so ultimately I'm okay with it being mostly bad designs)

I've mostly seen con talk on twitter where the discussions is OVERWHELMINGLY positive about the art and design. Now that I know the artist is Lauren, their head designer, I do feel more comfortable critiquing it because my first thought was they commissioned a kid/teen to do the art and I wouldn't feel comfortable giving them a critique.

Lauren is a great graphic designer and we see that in the regular DT merch but also the con merch. The layout of the panels in the comic, the use of text, overall composition are great for both the poster and the shirt. There are a few things design wise that show a lack of understanding for comic creation, but I'll give her a pass there because she isn't a comic designer and not within the industry of comics, so most of her design mistakes or misplacements are rookie mistakes and don't detract from the overall compositions. I think it's worth noting, but again, not the main point of my critique.

The main problem is the art.

Now, regardless of skill and technique, art is important and anyone and everyone should be allowed to create and share. But when you are creating art as a professional, critique is a requirement of the job and necessary to being an artist. The internet and how it approaches art culture is very anti-critique because they see critique as inherently negative criticism, not constructive feedback. So, when I saw the overwhelmingly positive response, I felt like sharing my opinion would immediately be shot down or misinterpreted. But I am a professional artist. I went to school for art. I am still very active in both the online and irl art communities and even have my work currently showing in a gallery, where I recently received praise and critique for. My opinion and my critique are not the end all be all and everyone is allowed to come to their own conclusions, but I very heavily preface with this because I need people to know I am coming from a place of good faith and genuine knowledge in the subject matter.

So, when I look at the actual art for the merch, my first thought is, "they should've hired an artist and not a designer." The main problem is that the art shows a lack of skill and understanding for illustration. The figures are awkward and stiff. The faces are asymmetrical and fail to properly convey likeness to the Dream Team. The linework and shading is sloppy and rushed. The biggest detractor to me with all of this is that everything appears to be heavily traced.

Now, people get up and arms about tracing. Tracing is a tool. It is by no means a bad tool or "cheating," and it is and will always be very important to art and illustration, but there is a difference in using tracing as a reference versus using it as a crutch. The merch art uses it as a crutch and this is obvious because of all the reasons I stated before: the figures are stiff and the movement is not gestural, the linework is sloppy and focuses more on getting in certain details rather than following lines that would be natural to the poses and the light source, and specific clothing items like Dream's harness and cape and Sapnap's shoes seem slapped on top of the figures without a reference and knowledge of perspective and construction. Another big arrow pointing to tracing is how the bodies and heads do not match up with the posing as the heads and bodies were clearly traced separately and then added together later. Note the lack of necks and, again, misunderstanding perspective and movement.

I think to best catch how this is traced without thought or editing is to look at the faces and the hands and see how the lines don't make sense for naturally capturing a figure.

I also think the shading and coloring are very poorly done and outright sloppy. The shading has a graphite texture to it which in the world of comics is just not a common texture. Comics were traditionally ink and traditional shading is very heavily graphic and focused on hard black shadows. For the merch art, this sorely sticks out more as it's right next to graphic linework and solid spots of color that were likely added via paint bucket tool. It breaks up harmony in the piece and instead of having the intended effect of drama, it's messy. On top of that, there are a lot of points where the color of the shading leaves the linework in a way that is clearly unintentional and does not add to the pose or movement of the characters.

A great resource for line work and graphic shading is Framed Ink. My copy is in storage, so I just pulled these from Amazon.

I also think the design of the characters could use some work in recognizability and communicating their powers more. Dream is obviously flying and has a cape in his signature green, but what about his mask? The smile is his brand and is undeniably important to his identity as both a character and a content creator, but it's completely missing from his character. George is the most recognizable and has the clout goggles and Supreme shirt. His powers are clearly communicated and play off his name well, but why are the goggles clear and what is with the clocks on his shoulders. The design choice there adds more confusion to his abilities and character. And Sapnap... Well.. Sapnap is ginger and that's all I'll say there.

To sandwich my critique with a bit more positive, I think the concept is very effective and fun! I like the idea of putting them into the comic world and making them superheroes. It's cheesy, but it has a great sense of playfulness and nostalgia, and might even have the ability to bring in a new audience if they continue with this idea. I've said before that I think Dream could really capitalize on the graphic novel/comic industry if he were to bring some of his Minecraft stories, or other ideas, to that format. Obviously he would have to remove Minecraft from it to avoid copyright, but my point still stands. I know this is likely a one-off merch design for the special event, but I think they could really play off the superhero idea, and if they get a good artist that can actually do comic work (pick ME, choose ME, love ME!!! /ref /j), they could make a short and fun comic run that I think a lot of people would enjoy. Again, all they really need is a competent artist and some character design changes to clearly communicate their story and it would be awesome!

It's important to recognize that comics are digital now and there is a lot more variety in tools and textures that are used, but since this is trying to emmulate classic comic art, I think it's important to share the traits and history of traditional comics. There is a lot of a bad comic art in the comic industry, of course (coughrobliefeldcough), but there is still and understanding of comics and comic culture within bad comic art that is lost in the Dream Team merch. Below I'm sharing some photos that show a wide range of comics and comic resource books that cover a wide range of traditional to modern to cult/zine comics. I was actively referencing them writing this and want to clarify that the world of comics is very broad and ever changing, but when they are referencing the classic superhero action/adventure story, there are certain standards and traditions in play.

Some pages from Spider-Man 1965, specifically notice the use of black as graphic shading, graphic and clean line work, and also minimal backgrounds to make the characters stand out more.

Kick-Ass Volume 1 for an example that isn't classic superhero, uses modern comic coloring, but still consistent with line work and incorporating it into movement and shading. Sorry about the blood, this comic is very fucking violent.

[loveletterworm]

I spent all day figuring out how to do this (modded playermodel) (very fancy) but to be honest I don't even intend to use this skin at all so I don't know what was the point of the effort. Also I saw a spider

[belovedcloud]

One Bed

pairing: leon kennedy x fem! agent! reader

✎ synopsis: who knew saving the president's daughter was so tiring? only you and leon knew the treacherous steps towards the hotel room that was supposed to rejuvenate you both. only for him to open the door and to see one bed.

✎ notes: omg hey everyone. it has been months since my last post and thank you so much for the love on 'such a sweetheart'. i needed a hiatus from writing and i hope you guys love this one bed trope! it's not proofread so sorry if there are mistakes but i am way too lazy to read over it all. love you guys.

➤ WC: 5K

➤ CW: you helped leon save ashley, one bed trope duh, touch starved leon, kisses, petnames, cowgirl, tired sex, p in v, unprotected sex, leon cums on you.

Who knew saving the president's daughter would be so exhausting? The whole ordeal was strenuous to your muscles and mental state. A good nights rest was what you needed after the catastrophe you just encountered. Luckily, you were able to squeeze a shower before getting to the hotel. The idea of mud, bodily fluids and blood was too much to handle for any longer than necessary. Though, if it wasn't for Leon - you probably wouldn't be around currently. Being mission partners with him allowed you to understand his perspective on bioweapons and whatnot.

Without a doubt, he hated them. Despised even. This was a common viewpoint, but his hate went far beyond the normal eye.

It was best not to pry. You couldn't class yourselves as friends, just work partners. Agents who fought the living dead and anything else that came in your way. The undead was a sensitive topic to Leon. What could he have went through?

Leon's life was one of pure terror ever since he was victimised to Raccoon City. The first day on the job completely different to others who joined for the first time. Unlocking padlocks were for survival, not for fun. Reading notes left from other officers who already found their fate was disturbing. The scribbles on the paper led him out. To safety he had hoped. No. Safety was not an option that day - his welfare was tarnished every second.

Now being forced into the workforce of the government wasn't any better. Probably even worse. Time and time again Leon would feel the cold metal pressed against his temple, shakily holding the gun to his head. The index finger aching to snap the trigger to blast his brains out. Yet the same reasoning withheld him from doing so. What if another incident like Raccoon City happened in the near future? He was hired to help others - to dispose of the horrors of the world without alarming the population.

Having you as his partner was a struggle and a blessing.

His communicative state from when he was 21 was now gone. A rookie turned agent against his will led him to be colder than others. Leon kept to himself most of the time, here and there giving you a few pointers on how you can effective pop a flash grenade or what to do in a sticky situation. You reflected how he was 6 years ago. A 21 year old who was excited to start at a police department - you were an agent who was motivated to save others. Your actions held such kindness to him. No prying or none of those snickering comments he would get from the other agents at base.

Just peace.

So mentally speaking, he didn't mind having to share a room with you in this crammed hotel. It was a Saturday so it was expected. Though, other patrons would be coming here to have a one night stand or a relaxing time away from their family... you both just needed rest.

Sluggish movements paved their way to the door number, 012. You and him clinging onto your duffel bags silently. It was an awkward silence, a silence that hung below you both as he fumbled with the key card in his hand. Scanning it through to unlock the barrier between you both and the comfort of the beds that laid inside.

Beds. Or... bed?

Your eyes scan the room. Continuously trying to seek out the other bed that should be here. You examine the footing of it, seeing that it's a double bed instead of 2 singles. Great. The dumbfounded look on your face is almost laughable as the situation dawns on you. You were in a room with Leon and it only consisted of one bed for the both of you.

There were a few ways to go about this. You either both sleep in the same bed together or one takes the bed and the other finds another place to rest. Looking around, it appears that the only viable option would be the cracked leather arm chair, resting solo in the corner. Thinking about it, you were willing to give yourself a crick in your neck to save yourself from the embarrassment of sharing the bed with the other agent.

Leon thought otherwise. The brisk movement of the gear belt slung over the armchair with his duffel bag smacked down in the centre. He was tired, over the bullshit that he just fought - he couldn't care less if he had to share a bed.

"Looks like they forgot a bed huh?" He joked sarcastically, stretching his limbs. The strain of his muscles was visible, undoubtably attractive. Leon carried himself enchantingly, you wanted to learn more about him as every second passed. A sigh leaves his throat whilst he sat down on the bed, continuously stretching. The shirt riding up slightly, giving you a chance to avert your eyes to the uncovered skin. His v-line was on show, the dip down soon stopped by the fabric of his cargos. The shirt he was wearing was a tight fit, letting the muscles of his biceps become visible to the naked eye and the shape of his pecs becoming more noticeable the more you looked.

At least you had a bed in the room? That was the only positive you could find from this when removing your gear off your body. Slinging it into the corner of the room alongside your bag. You both are exhausted from the long day, so you were thankful there's at least a bed to share.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick..." His movements are swift, already gripping onto his shirt he reveals his back to you - throwing the shirt on the floor beforehand. Multiple scars are littered faintly around the skin but the more distinguishable thing is his muscles. Leon's toned body calls out to you as his shoulder to waist ratio is insane. A slim waist, broad shoulders, it all speaks to you. You can feel your body speaking back as you look at him a little longer than expected.

Your little fangirling sesh is over when he shuts the bathroom door behind him - you let a breath you didn't know you withheld. Well, all you could do was wait for him to finish his shower before you could have one. The pitter patter of the water hitting the shower floor is heard before it dies down - giving you a mental note that Leon was now cleaning himself. Why are you even thinking about this?

Leon lets out a sigh once the hot water hits his body. An instant relieving feeling flowing through him as he just stands there for a minute. Soaking in the greatness of water before grabbing the washcloth and shower gel nicely provided by the hotel staff. Squeezing the bottle, a dollop of soap smothers the cloth before he runs it across his body.

Humming can be heard whilst he cleanses his body, ensuring to dispose of all the sweat and dirt from their recent mission. Reflecting back on the situation, he started to feel a bit nervous having to share a bed with you tonight. You were pretty, very pretty to him. He mentally scolded himself whilst he ran the cloth down his chest - his mind returning back to you. A soft moan elicited out of his lips made his hand smack his face. Leon wasn't sure why he was feeling this way. Instinctive movements of him washing himself in motion, his fingers manoeuvring the washcloth on autopilot as his mind focused on you. He can't help but think about you some more, remembering your cute smile when you would hand him a cup of coffee at base. Or your simple gestures of making sure he was comfortable and how you reserved yourself around him made his heart skip a beat.

It had been a while since he thought about someone romantically, his job stripping him of any personal life as the thought of the multitude of viruses around the world was increasing each day. But now, deep down... he could feel an attraction to you. Leon wasn't sure if it was sexual or genuine love - it would be too soon to tell. However, this feeling was deep rooted within, his mind wanted to show you love. His heart longing for someone.

A sentiment he had not felt in a while.

Trying to calm his heart down from going into cardiac arrest, giving himself a mental pep talk - trying not to think about you too much. He shuts off the water soon after and grabs the white towel neatly folded on top of the counter cabinet. Rubbing himself dry and wrapping it around his waist - tightening it slightly. He doesn't want an accident to happen.

Your mind shuts off as you hear footsteps in the bathroom. He was out. Okay. Do you look away when he opens the door? Leon doesn't give you time to think as the door creaks open, revealing himself into the main room. His bare chest and hair still damp for show. Jesus Christ. His damped skin looks good in the dim light, as if he had displayed himself just for you. He notices you sitting tensely on the bed, his body approached you. Blue eyes instantly drifting to your body and lingering for a second before he snaps out of it.

"I needed that..." He groans out, sitting beside you. You mentally slap yourself as you snap your thoughts back to the present.

"Yeah I bet, I already had a shower before we got here so I'm alright." Your response is meek, but at least you had something to respond with.

The man next to you raises his eyebrows at you in slight surprise, he wasn't expecting you to have already taken a shower - but by the look of it, you did look super clean compared to him before. Perhaps you had it when he was getting questioned at base for the report of the mission. Leon tries to keep his eyes focused on your face and not your body. "Oh lucky you," he replied with a smirk.

"I couldn't stand all the random liquids on me, it was disgusting." A chuckle leaves you when you remember looking at yourself in the mirror. Gross... but at least you could laugh at yourself for getting in such a mess? "You were subjected to most of the mess to be honest." Leon chortled out, reminiscing on your reaction when you had novistador blood all over you.

Your conversation with him was cut short when you both recalled the situation laid opened to the two of you. One bed, two agents. It seemed childish that you couldn't think the both of you could share a bed - it was just awkward. Really awkward.

"I can take the floor if you want?" The sound of your voice cuts through the silence, Leon replayed the question in his head before shaking his head. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not letting you sleep on this cold ass floor." His eyes averted to the hardwood floor, indicating that your question was out of order.

"You want to share the bed then?" This question to Leon was better, he really didn't mind another person next to him whilst he slept. Recalling past moments, he's slept through worse. "We're both adults here. We can share the bed, it won't be bad." A calm response from the agent. What more could you expect?

Your reluctant nod allows him to get back up to look through the wardrobe in the hotel room. A couple extra blankets stored alongside some pyjamas that the workforce provided for both of you. You two were granted a pair of sweatpants and black top - your eyes brightened up, realising you weren't having to sleep in fresh gear wear.

"I'll go in the bathroom to change, you can change here." An authoritative tone left him, not giving you a chance to speak back before he returned back into the bathroom. Scurrying over to the open wardrobe, you hand picked your pyjamas - undressing yourself from the imprisonment of your current clothes to something a lot more baggy and comfortable. A sigh let loose from you, your body mindlessly walking over to the bed and plopping down on the edge. The mattress aiding in soothing your back from the hellish ride you attuned escaping the island.

A yawn seeped through your lips, hazily looking at your phone screen at the time, 01:24... It really was time to rest. Though, the thought of Leon couldn't leave your mind. He plagued your brain - a part of you didn't complain.

A sound of a door creaking open embarked into your ears, Leon had changed into his nightclothes. The tank top fit snugly on his body however, the pair of sweatpants seemed a little baggy. Clearly a little too big for him since they were hanging dangerously low on his hips. He was plain exhausted. His limbs gradually moved him to the bed that you two were about to share. Sinking his body into the mattress as the sheets hugged his frame.

Minutes passed, a silence rose in the room. Leon's back laid restfully whilst scrolling through countless media apps to pass the time. His mind wandering back to you. The heat emanating his body contradicted with the cold expression on his face. Why was he so hard to read? You couldn't tell if he was even comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with you. Your body laid on it's side, staring at him brazenly. Forgetting that your eyes were peering at his body, Leon's gaze averted to you - an eyebrow raised on his face.

"You alright?" His question caught you off guard; no you weren't okay. Not when he was so close to you, the faint smell of him seeping into your senses. You genuinely couldn't be okay in this situation.

"Mhm, m'alright. Just tired." Leon's eyes glanced at you and his eyes shamelessly roamed over your body before he forced himself to look back down at the device in his hand. 'What the hell are you doing?' The question rung in his mind over and over again as he thought about you. There was no denying the fact that he found you incredibly attractive - but for you to be his work partner... It was unprofessional for such thoughts to occur in his mind. Shakily putting down the phone in his grasp he spoke. "You should get some rest, it's getting late."

Like rest was an option. Turning your head towards him, a twinge of irritation was mixed in with your voice. "I know, it's just.. it's hard to sleep right now." The idea of you and him so close was making your head foggy, especially now since he rolled onto his side - discarding his phone on the bedside table. He now faced you, noticing the tone of your voice. Was there something bothering you?

"Why's it hard?" It was starting to click in Leon's head that them sharing a bed may have made you nervous. Scared perhaps. Analysing your expression, he was observant in your body language. A hint of worry trespassed his vision whilst he watched you silently - waiting for you to continue. His head in his hand, inaudibly taking notice of how pretty you look. Completely captivated from your features, he shook his head to clear his mind.

"We're sharing a bed, now I know there's nothing between us but it's just... weird? No offence! Like you're not weird you know that I just-" Realising you were rambling, a heavy sigh left your lips. It was hard trying to compose yourself, particularly because Leon was looking at you. He didn't look confused nor grossed out.. just enamoured. Lovesick eyes boring into yours when he heard you ramble for a moment.

A slight chuckle was brought out from him when you mentioned the closeness between the two of you, a small idea crossed his mind about how your body was mere inches away from his. He swallowed before speaking. "None taken, I get it. Sharing a bed can be kinda intimate huh?" He found it rather cute that you were so antsy. "But I'm glad we have a bed..."

Leon was right, you convinced yourself nothing was weird - staring at the cream coloured ceiling. A light huff was let out of Leon's nose. "Just try and relax," he mumbled, unsure on how to comfort you. Watching you snuggle under the covers, a slight smile spread across his face.

"Cute."

Leon surprised himself that he mumbled it out loud, his body tensing from the fear that reigned his body. Mentally face palming himself, rapidly looking away from you. Reprimanding himself for being so stupid to let it slip out.

After a moment, a lower voice was heard from him. "I mean- Ugh, sorry I didn't mean to make this so awkward." Shifting himself further from you, feeling ashamed of himself - you stop him from almost falling off the bed. "No no, it's fine!" Your efforts of comforting him didn't help him as it was clear he was still embarrassed. Leon's mind kept recalling the scene, shouldered with how attractive you were.

"I meant it." He stated. Leon had no clue where this confidence in him was coming from, but he hoped it wouldn't run out any time soon. The look on your face made him feel less nervous. A shocked expression plastered all over you - stuttering not knowing what to say. He found you to be the prettiest woman he had ever seen, the kindest too. Looking back at it all, he registered all along he had a little thing for you. You respected him, valued his need for privacy and want to be unjudged. Not many knew of his situation and Leon's involvement in Raccoon City. You didn't even know, you never pried.

Shamelessly, a fat smile shone on your face. Leon's expression softened as he found himself in awe. His body itched, craving your touch. Your love. This renowned love blossomed within him.

"You're cute too." That one sentence could make his heart stop if he really went into deep thought about it. Leon never really found himself to be that attractive, yeah his muscles were good in some aspect in his eyes. He did train well, he gave himself that. After all, he was the one many depended on to save the abundance of sick problems this once calm world faced.

Another silence was shared between the two of you - not one of awkwardness but one of solace. Leon didn't feel distressed, he felt calm. You brought out a side of him which he believed was gone. The side being the young man who wasn't scared of the future. A time where he was happy within himself and oblivious. All he could picture was you. You and him happily being each other's bridge.

Each other's home.

"I'm glad we got that out of the way." A breathless voice cut you both out of your trances. Leon flickering his view on you. Your face, those beautiful eyes staring into his own. The soft lips of yours calling out to him. Your bare neck, a blank canvas for his kisses and bites. His eyes then averted to the base of your neck, your chest covered by the black shirt you wore. Feeling his stare, the burning sensation in your cheeks rose. "What... what now?" The scary question was imprinted in your mind. It was obvious you both had a thing for each other, yet what were you going to do about it? Perhaps a relationship could happen between the both of you; would you both just stay work partners?

"Can I.. can I hold you?" Vulnerability was present in Leon's voice. He craved to touch your skin, his fingers twitching slightly from the excitement. Touch starved. That was the true definition of Leon's love life right now. He hadn't involved himself in relationship matters for years and now that the chance popped up with you, he would take what he could get.

You didn't even say yes, your body spoke for you. Wrapping your arms around his chest - you could feel his heartbeat. Rapid pumps thudded into your ear. Strong arms hugged you back clearly stating silently that Leon couldn't let you go. You'd be surprised if his shirt didn't have an imprint of your face since you were so close against him. Breaking free slightly, your head popped up - looking up at him. You were presented with his Adam's apple, slowly bobbing up and down as he swallowed looking down at you. The rough bump alluring you in whilst your hazy eyes lingered on the skin of his neck. Moles sparsely speckled all over his skin. God had crafted Leon himself, you were sure of it.

Moreover, the heat from his body lingered around you. Creating an invisible fortress of affection and love as both of you stared at each other.

A shaky hand pressed against the skin of your cheek, calloused pads caressing you. "You're so pretty." Leon mumbled, shifting a bit. Your touch to him granted him a sense of warmth, he even leaned into it a little - subconsciously seeking comfort. You brought out the 'weak' side of him, it felt nice for him to let down his guard and be himself around you. He let out a pleased hum as he cuddled you, the hold over you was tight. To you, it seemed like he was starved for physical contact and was finally getting the human touch he deserved.

What happened next was a blur, to both of you anyway. The stare-off between his blue eyes and your own turned into your faces being so close together; guaranteed to kiss. An eskimo kiss shared with him, the tips of both your noses touching. Lips hovering over his, your whisper snaps him out of his daze. "Thank you..." Your gratitude granted you a chuckle from Leon but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

Leon continued to stare at you but to pinpoint, he was eying at your lips. They looked so soft, the mere sight of them making his heart race more. He swallowed hard, his mind clouded with the vision of kissing you. An overwhelming sense of desire passing through him - it was need. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't just go in for a kiss; not without consent. Yet he craved to feel his lips against yours.

"Can I kiss you?" His mumbled whisper echoed through your ears. Were you hearing him correctly?

Kiss? You?

Besides, it's not like you were going to straight out reject him. That wasn't even possible in this situation with him; pressed so close against you that you could feel his rock hard boner pressing against your thigh. A nimble nod from you responding to his question was all he needed.

Leon's lips are soft, softer than you would expect. Sweet little kisses are shared, melting you into him. His hands now run down your back, rubbing your skin through the cotton shirt. He hums, tilting your head slightly back to get a better angle. It feels messy as saliva is shared between the two of you. A soft whine escaping you when Leon breaks away. Reining you back in, he gives you another kiss. Pure passion and love interweaved in it.

Kisses soon turn into touches as your fingers manoeuvre around his torso, slowly digging your fingers into him - eliciting a groan out his mouth. His touch on you becomes possessive, kneading your skin in his hands. Leon holds you close and after a few minutes, you find yourself on his lap. His hands automatically went to your hips, gripping you tight as his eyes locked onto yours. Those blue eyes of his roamed your body shamelessly whilst he held you against him, taking in the view of your straddling his hips.

You could feel the hard-on beneath you, begging for some friction. Subconsciously, your hips start to rock slightly, Leon takes full control as he guides you. There was no way he could stop right now, not with how his body was aching so badly and having you on his lap like this. "Can we take this slow? We're both... really tired." A yawn escapes you mid sentence, you can feel yourself getting tired and wet.

"Yeah, we can take this slow. Anything you want love." The nickname shoots desire right into your veins, the rasp in his voice concocted with a tired sigh as he watches you grind on him is heavenly. Shuddering from his touch, Leon brings you down to lay on him - adjusting you on his lap. Your foreheads touch, all you can see is love in his eyes. Leon's fingers tug on your shirt, a breathless chuckle leaving him before he asks the question. "Can I take this off?" He can't help but want to see you, feel you - caress the smoothness of your skin on the pads of his fingers. Hearing you say the word "yes" made his hands work in a fast fashion as your torso was soon left bare.

"So beautiful..." He sat you back up, feeling your flesh mould in-between his fingers. Leon ached for you, he wanted to have more energy to give you the proper fucking you deserved. However, the past mission and the strain it had on both of your bodies exempted him from treating you the way he wanted. So he had to settle for soft, gentle sex. Just like you wanted.

Rapid breathing contradicted the mellow touches shared between you both, your hips continuously rocking slowly before he lifts you up slightly - removing the same sweatpants that were already dangerously low. You're face to face with his boxers, a clear wet patch showcasing the pre-cum that leaked out of his tip.

"See what you do to me?" Leon groaned out, palming himself slowly - your eyes following his every movement. He was enchanting nonetheless, alluring you in with every pump he did to himself. Leon's mind was fogged with you, the view of you turning every cell in his brain insane. He seriously couldn't get enough of your watchful eyes scanning his hand; viewing the pornographic sight in front of you.

Although once again he did think to make this the best sex he's had in a while, it was obvious you both were too tired to even do anything remotely crazy that night. So plain ole cowgirl it is.

Quick work was made for your sweatpants as they were easily tossed to the floor, your panties being the the second piece of protection between you and Leon's boxers straining his dick in place. His hands guided you still, the subtle movements rocking back on forth bringing both of you a sense of release you both needed. Silken kisses bringing out a wave of passion. Playing with the band of his boxers - a dark look appeared in his gaze.

"Impatient?" The mere one word question could've left you astonished if you weren't so hazy from being aroused. Of course you were impatient. He was the embodiment of seduction. "Well, yeah." A laugh escaped both Leon and you, your eyes boring into his.

"Shouldn't keep you waiting should I?"

Sliding your panties to the side; pulling his boxers down, it was easy for his cock to slide in. Eliciting a deep moan from the both of you as kisses were shared once again. Leon couldn't believe how good you felt, he already felt pussy drunk. The two of you shared tired eyes and low whimpers whilst your hips rocked back and forth.

"You're so pretty..." Leon mumbled out, dazed out of his mind looking at how your body synchronised with his. The way his dick was slipping in and out of you, pressing into that sweet spot of yours. How were you so pretty? And how did you already make such a mess? Glancing down, his eyes followed to the feeling of wetness coating the base of his cock - your inner thighs glistening from how wet you were. Completely mesmerised, Leon looked up at you with pure love and lust.

You couldn't talk, not when all your throat could conjure was the moans and low screams as his hips started to jerk up slightly - thrusting himself further in you. Holding onto the bedframe keeping you both afloat, your mumbles tried to alert him from the upcoming orgasm reaching you. "Mmph... L-Leon, I..." was all you could muster. It was the only coherent thing he could understand before feeling you tighten up.

"That's it baby, keep going." The softness in his voice juxtaposed the way his hips were snapping up and down, Leon couldn't help it. Your pussy felt too good wrapped around him. He had to put in the last of his energy to making you feel good at least. Lazily, his hand slowly reached your clothed clit - his fingers slowly rubbing the fabric of your panties. The perfect amount of friction to make your bundle of nerves become overstimulated whilst being stuffed full.

Your tired eyes locked with his, feeling yourself getting closer to seventh heaven. A small smirk plastered on Leon's face, watching you breathlessly whilst his dick twitched too.

"Gotta pull out..." He murmured, his fingers making you reach the pinnacle of your orgasm. "L-Leon!" All you could do was shudder on-top of him, feeling the remaining energy in you seep out alongside your orgasm. Collapsing onto him, Leon subtly slipped himself out, painting your clit and lower stomach with his cum. A low hum leaving him as he kissed the nape of your neck. "You did so well."

Panting heavily, your moan responded to his words. Chuckling to himself, Leon held you close whilst sitting up. Grabbing a few tissues in the box to wipe your tummy.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

[ghosts-to-reid]

Blues, Baby.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Breeding kink, kidnapping, smut

Request: Breeding kink smut pleaseeee (Spencer wanting to get reader pregnant)

Summary: Spencer is angry at you after you made a silly mistake on the field. He comes to you to reconcile, but ends up doing that and more.

It had been a long week.

The case had been difficult, you had been taken by the unsub, and on top of that, you and Spencer had had an argument. You had been together for 4 years, you rarely argued in all that time, but when you did it was brutal. 

The argument happened after he had saved you. It was your fault, admittedly you were too eager to catch this guy, you could say that now. He had taken over 34 girls in the last 20 years, from all over the states. He had been a copycat of Israel Keyes, stashing kill kits in the same, or as close as he could to, locations as him. It was shocking that it hadn’t been caught years ago. It hit you hard, and you were determined to catch this guy. So, you had rushed in without backup, getting yourself caught in the process. Though your capture was short- Which gave way to Spencer’s fury at your actions

“What the HELL were you thinking?” You had just finished up being checked over by the medics, sitting on the back of the ambulance, when Spencer rushed over to you. He is the one who took down the unsub, taking him in before he spoke to you. His reaction caught you off guard, and then made you scowl.

“What are you talking about?” He was standing in front of you now, arms crossed. His eyes  were boring into yours. He huffed out a frustrated chuckle

“What am I talking about? I'm talking about you rushing in there, without backup, and nearly getting yourself killed in the process!” He waved his arms as he spoke, as he usually did when frustrated. Shaking your head, you stood and stepped closer to him, eyes never leaving him.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Spencer. You know this. What is wrong with you?” You were confused why he was so angry with you, you were the one who had just been kidnapped, he should be holding you and soothing you, not shouting at you in front of your team and the locals. 

“Obviously not when you make stupid decisions like this! Did you even think about the consequences?”

“The consequence if I hadn’t gone in was another dead girl!”

“But you didn’t have to try and replace her! God, I knew I should've gone with you!”

“What, you think you need to babysit me, Spencer?” You scoff, folding your arms “You’re my boyfriend, not my dad.”

“You know what, maybe you do need a babysitter if you’re going to continue making rookie mistakes like this, you know you’re better than this” 

Your eyes had never left each other, staring each other down- Waiting for the other to back down. Bored of this, you rolled your eyes and dropped your arms from your chest. Removing the blanket from your shoulders, you move to walk away when he grabs your arm, tight enough to stop you, but not enough to hurt.

“Where the hell are you going?” His free hand picked up the blanket and he began to drape it over your shoulders once more “You need this for shock. Why won’t you take care of yourself?” It was obvious his anger was rooted in concern, but you didn’t want to confront that right now. Already fuming at his actions, you had no time for his niceties right now.

“Just- Leave me alone. I don’t need you shouting at me right now.” Shaking free from his grasp, you stomped away from him and towards one of the team's SUVs. He shouted something after you, and you heard a loud bang as he hit the ambulance in frustration, but you ignored it.

Since then, the two of you had barely spoken since. Spencer sat with Derek, and you sat with Emily both on opposite sides of the Jet. The team sensed some tension, having witnessed the argument, but no one pressed you. Then, there was a silent car ride back to your shared apartment. You moved into his place 9 months ago now, Spencer had suggested it after your lease had ended, explaining how it was logical to move in together now and save money- he said he wanted to marry you someday and that this was a good start. 

That seemed a silly thought at the minute, though.

The silence continued until dinner. He was in the shower whilst you prepped what you could from your fridge, it was too late to go to the grocery store and you had been away a few days, so it wasn’t much. You were so deep in your own thoughts you didn’t hear the shower stop, or Spencer enter the kitchen. He had stood, watching you silently for a moment as you chopped something, before he moved to slide his hands to hold your waist, snaking them to hold you as he rested his head on your shoulder. Momentarily, you tensed, but soon melted into him. He felt warm and safe, and you had needed this after your capture.

“I'm sorry…” He mumbled into your hair as he squeezed you. You dropped the knife you were holding and brought your hand up to his damp hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

“I'm sorry too, baby…” You mumbled, he moved and turned you to look at him. His eyes were sad, brow furrowed with concern.

"I just... I don't want to loose you, okay?"

"You won't, baby. I'm here." You snaked your arms around his neck and placed your forehead against his.

"Today just... It made me realise we shouldn't wait for things. I was so worried that... That we wouldn't be able to do all the things we planned... That we'd never get married, have kids... I just... I don't want to miss out on that with you. I love you too much." His eyes were closed as he made his confession. Sighing you softly nodded your head against his.

"Then... Why are we waiting?" You asked, voice small as his eyes flicker open, meeting yours once more. T5here is stillness in the air as he stares at you. "Let's have a baby..."

He wasted no time in dipping to kiss you. His lips melting softly into yours as an apology. Smiling into the kiss, you hummed contentedly as he pulled you closer, and you brought your hands up once more to play with his curls. 

The kiss began to become more desperate when you lightly tugged at his hair, causing him to groan into your lips. You smirked as his grip on your hips tightened and his tongue slipped past your lips. The kiss deepened into a battle for dominance between you, lips fighting one another to be the winner. Slowly, Spencer backed you against a clear counter, surprising you when your back hit the cold marble. Your yelp made Spencer smirk as he finally pulled away from you. He had caged you between him and the counter, arms tasting either side. He admired his work, your flushed skin, wide eyes, pupils blown out with lust. You were panting for air through your swollen lips and he could feel all his blood rushing to one single point. All his frustration from before turned to need. Need to show you how much he cares, how much he loves you, how you were his, and his alone. His lips soon darted to your neck, kissing and sucking his way down to your collarbone. You whined under his touch, feeling his growing cock rub against you. It made you squirm in anticipation, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every touch.

“Spence…” You gasp as his fingers begin to dip under your waist band. He leaned back, watching you as he began to guide his fingers through your folds, gathering your slick and occasionally skimming over your clit teasingly. You were an utter mess for him, and he loved it. He observed you for a moment, simply watching your reactions to his touch, your moans and curses under your breath, the way you held onto his arm, the pout you gave him when he dodged your kiss, smirking at you as he just watched and touched.

“I amso sorry about what happened before, baby… I just didn’t want to lose you” His voice was soft but had an edge of authority that made you clench around nothing. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, just like earlier “Because you’re mine, aren’t you? You belong to me, don’t you?” He continued his agonizingly slow strokes as he spoke, you whined and nodded in response. He simply tutted and shook his head

“Use your words, darling.”

“I-I’m yours, Spencer.” You managed to whisper, voice shaky from the frustrated pleasure you were receiving. Spencer smiled proudly, and sped up slightly, causing you to moan loudly.

“Hmm… I think we need to do something to show everyone else who you belong to…” His voice was teasing. The free hand that caged you lifted to your face, landing softly on your cheek. His other hand continued to work at a steady pace, enough to make you needy, but not enough to push you over the edge anytime soon. He loved to torture you like this, teasing you for hours and not letting you cum. He loved feeling the control over you. Your eyes opened and met his confusion hidden in them. He found it, and found it amusing. He leaned closer into you, his free hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear before he firmly held the back of your hair. Whispering softly

“I'm gonna put a baby in you, hm? Show everyone who you really belong to, who gets to cum inside you?” 

As he finished speaking, he plunged two fingers inside of your pussy. A loud moan escaped your lips as he pulled your head back to look at him. He had sped up now, fingering you with a cocky smirk. He may be shy in the real world, but behind closed doors, he undoubtedly enjoyed his power over you. His words shocked you at first, but he didn’t miss the way you clenched around his fingers as he fucked you with them. He knew you’d do whatever he wanted to, but this was pushing the limits.

Usually, no matter the scenario, you and Spencer had sex with a condom. You had gone off of birth control, the effects had been killer for you. Spencer, being the loving boyfriend he is, had supported you through this, and your sex life had adjusted with no problem. He used condoms, and the rare occasion you would do it without one, he’d take you for the morning after pill, but now? Now, he wanted to prove a point. 

It wasn’t just about where he came, it was about showing everyone who you belonged to. Who cared for you, who protected you, who you came home to every night.

“What do you say baby? Do you want me to fuck you till everyone knows who you belong to?” Another devious whisper in your ear. You eagerly nodded, Spencer wasted no time in removing his hand from inside you and pulling your pants down your thighs. He roughly turned you around and bent you over the counter, holding both your wrists behind your back. He stepped back, admiring how you looked from behind. You could feel his free hand tracing your skin before feeling a sharp smack to your ass. The pain made you hiss out a moan, you missed Spencer pulling down his sweatpants.

It shocked you momentarily when you felt the tip of his cock move between your folds, teasing your clit as he covered his shaft in your slick. The anticipation of him entering you was killing you, and you bucked your hips against him.

“Eager, are we? You want me to cum inside you that bad?” The edge of teasing was still present in his voice as he held you down. All you could do was whine and squirm under him, waiting for him to enter you. He chuckled before he pushed himself inside of you, groaning as your tight walls stretched around him.

“Fuck…” He muttered as he watched you moan once more. He loved seeing you so submissive under him. He barely waited for you to adjust until he started fucking into you at a rough pace.

Each stroke was bliss, pain turned to pleasure quickly as he relentlessly bottomed out over and over again. He let your wrists go as he held your hips, holding them firmly in place. YOu gripped the edge of the counter tightly in an effort to keep upright.

Spencer watched how he disappeared inside you, moaning as he felt you begin to tighten around him

“Awe, you gonna cum for me, baby? Is that how excited you are for me to cum?” He panted into your ear, you nodded quickly, nearly drooling from the pleasure Spencer was giving you. You let out a loud whine when Spencers hand reached between you both and began to play with your clit.

“Im- Im gonna-” You tried to pant out words that dissipated into moans, Spencer soothed you momentarily before quickening his pace.

“Cum for me, baby. I'm close too, gonna make you a mommy… Gonna fill you up so much.” He was struggling to speak properly now, his strokes were becoming more and more aggressive as he reached his own peak. His words were enough to push you over, with a loud cry you came around his cock, clenching around him as your legs began to shake. You whined his name out, as he groaned again, this time with one last big stroke.

You felt him cum inside you, his cum painting your insides white. As he came, he fucked back into you a few more times sloppily, before leaning forward to kiss your back lightly. When he finally pulled out, your legs almost gave way, your grip on the counter keeping you steady. Spencer huffed a small laugh as he observed you, his eyes moved down to the glistening mess between your legs, he saw his cum beginning to leak out of you. He moved forward once more, steading you with one hand, whilst the other moved between your legs once again, gathering his cum and pushing it back into you, once more fucking you with his fingers. Another loud moan escaped your lips as he did this. You moved your head to the side to look at him, only to be met with a cock grin as he leaned forward 

“Just one more” He breathed, you were still coming down from your last high, so it didn’t take much for you to cum around his fingers once more. Once he was happy, he pulled up your pants, keeping his cum from dripping out of you. He carried you to your shared bedroom before dressing you in your pajamas, careful to keep your underwear on, and joined you in bed. He held you tightly as you snuggled into his chest.

“So… Can I clean myself up now?” You mumbled into his chest, giggling a little bit.

“Well, your chances of pregnancy increase the longer you keep sperm inside. Sperm can stay alive for up to 5 days in the body, but the best way to get pregnant is regular sex, usually every other night around the time you’re ovulating.” Spencer recited the random facts as casually as ever, but it made you jump slightly, you pulled back and sat up.

“Wait… are we ready for this?” You asked timidly, unsure of his answer. Spencer’s eyes met yours and looked fearful for a moment

“Well… We’ve been together for 4 years… I thought it through, and after today especially, I just want to start my life with you as soon as possible… But if you’re not ready we can go get a plan B tomorrow. I guess i got carried away and just went for it We can discuss this more-” You interrupted his amble with a kiss, soft and small.When you pulled back he was confused, cocking a brow at you now. 

“I’d love to start a family with you Spencer… Just, it's a bit nerve wracking.” You giggle. He flushes for a moment, hiding his face in the pillow.

“I'm sorry.” You hear, muffled by the pillow. You laugh lightly as you move him to face you again, giving him another soft kiss.

“But seriously, We have all the time in the world to get me pregnant. I'm gonna go shower.”

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 8

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes, again with the slight smut phew, angst on top of more angst, no comfort... yet (or ever? hmm much to ponder about)  A/N: Imagine if I leave it here lmao Also, I've been listening to White Ferrari on repeat while editing this chapter. I'm not saying that you should too while you're reading, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Oh, and Angel by Massive Attack. Trust me, it's gonna come up. (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

The cold tiles of the bathroom floor wreak a shiver through your body.

You’re curled up in front of the toilet, barely upright after another round of puking what little bile is left in your stomach. Cold beads of sweat dot your forehead and every breath feels thin, ragged, like you’re trying to gulp air through a pinhole. The chill seeps under your skin, leaving you shuddering involuntarily between dry heaves. 

You make the rookie mistake of tilting your head ever-so-slightly to rest against the cool porcelain, and the miniscule action threatens to send the room careening into another violent spin. A wave of nausea hits you and you desperately gnaw on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from gagging.

You feel like absolute shit. 

There’s something lodged inside, sinking deep into the pit of your stomach. A poison, a corruption—heavier than the excess of alcohol still clawing its way through your system. It isn’t the simple penance for overindulging, no; it’s darker, rawer, less perfunctory than the remnants of last night’s events. 

It churns inside you, leaving an acrid, metallic taste on your tongue and a dull ache behind your eyes. 

The buzzing of your phone reverberates beside you, a relentless vibration against your thigh. It hasn’t stopped since the moment you clawed your way out of bed and staggered toward your porcelain waste bucket. You weren’t supposed to bring it along with you—it should’ve been left abandoned outside of this room, far from this bleak sanctuary. This… this disgusting aftermath of your revelry. 

Unfortunately, it’s practically an extension of you now. A limb, almost. Or worse, a crutch—something you lean on so habitually, that the mere thought of its absence feels like an amputation.

“S-sorry,” you release a shaky breath, tears pricking your vision, unbidden. Unwelcome. “Sorry.” 

Another vibration. You can picture it clearly in your head: the worry marring his face, the exasperation in his eyes.

You retch.

––––

The red takeout box from Panda Express sits in front of you, its contents lukewarm and forgotten for the better part of the hour. You barely remember ordering it—actually, now that you think about it… Did you even order it yourself? Your memory’s a little hazy, just like everything else today. And last night.

Sylus’ voice crackles through your phone, propped precariously against a half-empty mug of tea on the low table. 

His presence, as always, manages to fill the room, though this time there’s a palpable tension in the air since you opened the game. His initial greeting had all the warmth of a parent catching their kid sneaking in past curfew. The moment his image blinked into view, you could see the battle in his eyes.

On one end, he simmered with ire, almost ready to boil over. On the other, he looked like he’d gladly claw his way out the screen just to tuck you into bed and personally force-feed you the food you’ve been ignoring for the past forty minutes.

“Eat it,” he grouses, a hint of steel sharpening his deceptively calm tone. The worry beneath it feels like it could strangle you. 

(And if it could, it probably would—if he has any say in it.)

You whine, burrowing deeper under the blanket, folding yourself into a sad, uncooperative ball on the couch. “I will. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” he echoes, the incredulity clear in his voice. “Do you plan on eating it soon as it becomes inedible, or is this a test of endurance?”

With a sigh that feels like it’s pulled from the depths of your soul, you poke halfheartedly at the lid. The smell of grease and fried food wafts out, making your stomach churn. Whether it’s from nausea or hunger pangs, you can’t tell.

“It smells like regret,” you mutter, swallowing the lump rising from your esophagus. 

Sylus snorts, and you can tell it slipped out before he could stop it. “Considering the state you’re in? Can’t say I’m surprised. But you still need to eat, kitten. You can’t run on stubbornness alone.”

“I’m doing fine so far,” you argue weakly, knowing you’re not convincing anyone. Your body feels like it’s been put through the wringer—limbs heavy, muscles crying in protest, a pounding headache that refuses to let up.

“Fine,” he repeats, dry as ash. “You can barely hold yourself up, but sure, let’s call that fine.”

You finally flip the box open, revealing a mess of something fried and vaguely brown. The smell hits you harder this time, and you salivate something odd. “I don’t think—”

“Eat,” he cuts you off, voice firm, brooking no argument. “You’ve done well with the tea, but now you need something to fill you up.”

“I can think of something else I’d like to fill me up,” you mumble, the words slipping out before you can stop yourself.

A beat of silence, and then Sylus’ tone shifts—a touch amused now, but it’s edged with a deliberate weight that makes your skin prickle. Uh-oh. 

“Sweetie,” he says slowly, almost indulgent, “if you’ve got the energy to make jokes like that, you’ve got the energy to eat. Be good, and I’ll make sure you’re properly rewarded once you’re feeling better.”

You laugh, breathless, trying to mask your nervousness from the subtle innuendo. Obediently, you pick up the plastic spork beside the carton. “You’re really selling this hard, huh.”

“I’m not here to sell it,” he sighs, voice losing its edge, but there’s still a firmness to it. “I’m here to make sure you don’t pass out. One bite. Start there.”

You spear a piece of shrimp hesitantly. It looks harmless enough, but you lift it like it might bite back. 

You take the tiniest nibble. 

It’s greasy, salty, and absolutely meh—but it doesn’t immediately trigger your gag reflex, which in itself feels like a small victory. 

“There,” he says, his satisfaction palpable. “See? You survived.”

“Barely,” you shoot back half-heartedly, though the corner of your mouth twitches.

“I’ll make sure to congratulate you later for your heroic recovery,” he says wryly. “Now another bite, sweetheart.”

You make a reluctant noise but comply, munching slowly. He hums in approval. When you glance at the screen, his expression has mellowed—the severity giving way to something almost tender.

You look away quickly, swallowing hard; though you're not sure if it’s because of the tiny morsel of food or from the heavier something that's lodged in your throat.

The sound of your chewing is slightly amplified by the silence that comes after. You’re afraid to break it first. 

So Sylus does it for you. Once he’s decided you’ve had your fill of the fried rice.

“Would you like to talk about last night?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “What about last night?” 

A long pause. 

“We don’t have to,” he says quietly. “I’m just saying that if you want to, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You press your lips together, unsure of how to answer. There’s discomfort; the unease brought by your own self-consciousness. 

“I—uh—” You start, fumbling for the right words. “I didn’t mean to… make things weird or anything. I don't usually get that wasted,” You sigh, blowing a stray hair out of your face. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” 

“The only thing you did wrong last night was ignore my messages,” Sylus murmurs, his tone a little admonishing. “Making me worry about your well-being.”

You glance up, catching the affection in his eyes. He gives you a slight smile, relieved to finally have your attention fully on him.

You scrunch the blanket in your fist, fiddling with a loose string. You want to say something. Anything. But you can’t seem to summon the courage. 

Finally—

“You don’t think…” you hesitate, voice small. “You don’t think it’s– that I’m… too much trouble?”

He tuts softly, the sound playful, with hints of something fond. Comforting, almost. So you hold his gaze, even if it’s a little harder than you’d like it to be.

Sylus looks at you with something so… endearing that it’s almost painful. “You’re perfect. My little troublemaker,” his eyes burn a little brighter. “Mine.”

The words hit you like a wave—soothing, gratifying. Staggering.

Oh, you want to believe him. You want to lose yourself in his words, to give in to the feeling of being cherished, of being seen. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything as much as this. 

But turmoil wages a war inside you, and you’re stuck between the pull of letting yourself believe and the sharp reality of your situation.

The futility of it all.

It makes you hurt, deep inside, in a way you don’t know how to fix.

––––

The package you got from the lobby is nondescript. Unassuming. The kind of box that could contain anything from kitchenware to – you don’t know, maybe a desk lamp? You turn it over in your hands, squinting at the lack of clues of its content and its sender. 

Did you order something and forgot?

Payroll was over a week ago, and you’re aware of your irresponsible tendency to pile everything that catches your eye onto an online shopping cart just to tempt yourself into buying shit you don’t need, but you’re pretty sure you’d remember spending money on… whatever this is. 

It’s not until you’re back in the privacy of your apartment, scissors in hand, that the mystery begins—and promptly ends.

The contents spill out, leaving you to blink owlishly at the mess of shredded wrapping paper and its pièce de résistance: a nine-inch monstrosity of a dildo, hot red in color. 

The… thing is practically a weapon, its twisting ridges and intimidating girth looking more like something you’d need a user manual for. Or a fucking exorcist, you distantly think in rising panic. 

“Uhh…” The sound tumbles out, an embarrassing mix of confused and gobsmacked. “I don’t remember—?”

Ping!

Your phone chimes before you can finish, and you slowly turn your gaze towards the screen, a sinking feeling beginning to form in your gut.

The message is short. And oh-so-smug.

Ah. Just in time. 

The realization dawns on you, and your cheeks burn hot enough to fry an egg. “Sylus!”

What? Even in text, his tone carries that infuriating slyness you can practically hear from a mile away. You’ve earned it.

Your mouth works uselessly for a moment before words could spill out, clumsy and agitated. “Earned what?!” 

A little treat for being such an obedient little thing while you were recovering, remember?

“Holy shit,” you wheeze. A half-hysterical giggle bubbles up your throat as you hold the draconic cock far from you as if it’s gonna attack at any second. Fuck, it might. “This is almost as big as my forearm! The hell am I supposed to do with this?”

What do I expect you to do with it? Sylus’s reply comes almost instantly, the weight of his insinuation almost coming across as mocking. I thought that was obvious.

You didn’t think your face could go any redder, and you’re sure you resemble a fucking tomato right at that moment. “Sy-Sy, this is—” You gulp, glancing at the toy with wide eyes. “fucking massive. It–it has… it’s got scales!”

Ah, so you’ve noticed the craftsmanship. Quite exquisite, isn’t it?

“E-Exquisite?” you sputter, voice soaring at a higher octave. “This looks like it came out of Alien or something! I’m pretty sure it’s gonna start moving on its own…”

Only if you press a button.

Your brain short-circuits, and you frantically examine the thing for telltale signs of any hidden mechanization.

There’s a short lull, laden with barely restrained amusement. Then: Relax, sweetheart. It’s not going to bite.

You let out another – nervous – laugh, gingerly setting the large toy down as if it might explode from its sheer audacity. “I hate you.” 

No, you don’t, Sylus counters without missing a beat. But I do appreciate how flustered you’re getting. Go on, sweet thing—tell me how it’s too much for you. I could listen to that all night.

You let out a strangled noise, burying your face in your hands. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you.”

Mmh, you know me so well. 

You sigh, the gravity of what’s inevitable setting in. It was like fighting a losing battle. 

Something the both of you knew right from the start.

-

-

-

(You are my angel)

“I-It hurts to put in,” you whimper, body trembling as sweat clings to your flushed skin. Every muscle feels taut, coiled tight with both anticipation and a flicker of fear. “p-please…” 

“We have the rest of the night, little dove. We’ll take it slow,” Sylus whispers, his voice a velvet caress in your ear, warm and grounding. “I’m right here.”

His words melt into you like cloying liquid, wrapping around your resolve like a sensual embrace.

(Come from way above)

“Again.”

“I-I can’t,” you sniffle, the words breaking into short, shaky gasps as your chest heaves. The remnants of your last orgasm still ripple through you, the one he’s ripped from you mercilessly.  

“You can, poppet,” he coos, the endearment sliding over you like cool mercury. “Give me one more, yeah? Want to see those pretty eyes rolling for me.”

The thought alone has you shivering, his tone dripping with enough heat to stir something molten from within you.

(To bring me love)

The air hangs unbearably hot, almost suffocating. Every nerve sings, alive with the memory of his ministrations—though he’s never truly touched you, has he? 

It doesn’t matter. The line between what’s real and what’s not blurs further with every passing moment.

Your body burns, and yet you crave more, more—the pulsing ache of your stretched walls only feeding the gnawing hunger that builds inside, like an unrestrained beast. 

You blink sluggishly; your vision swimming as pleasure courses through you in heavy, dizzying surges.

Has he bewitched you? You’ve become insatiable, ravenous—monstrous in your desire. For him. For the addicting high only he could give, and teasingly dangle just out of reach. 

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

How…? He’s nothing but a voice, incorporeal, yet he commands you completely. Your hands, your movements, your very breath feels as if it belongs to him. They follow his instructions without hesitation, carving paths of fire and electricity across the bare expanse of your skin.

“More?” Sylus rasps, and the edge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. There’s something feral in his tone, and it brings you an almost animalistic sense of glee to know that he isn’t unaffected by all of this any less than you are. 

“More,” you beg, raw and needy. He groans in response.

“Good, so good for me,” he hisses a litany of praise that sounds so much like a curse. “My good girl. Mine to break, mine to ruin.”  

Your back arches as you cry out; muscles locking, mouth falling open in a soundless scream as both agony and ecstasy crash over you like a tidal wave.

(Love you, love you, love you, love you Love you, lo–ve you, love you, love you … Love you, love you—love you, love you…)

––––

"My cousin's getting married tomorrow."

You say it with an air of nonchalance, your voice light, as if you’re just commenting on the weather.

Sylus doesn’t respond right away. His usual quick wit is conspicuously absent, replaced by a silence that stretches long, settling into the room like a beam of sunlight from your window. The continuous whirr of the electric fan and the droning of the news anchor on TV fill the space instead, in place of conversation.

You don’t force it. Instead, you wait patiently until it bends under its own weight and breaks.

After what feels like minutes, his voice cuts through the quiet; neutral and impassive. "Where's it happening?"

"A little chapel in Downtown Orlando, near Lake Lucerne. Nothing fancy. They’re keeping it small."

He nods, his gaze distant. Somewhere you can’t follow. "Just close family?"

"Yeah," you murmur, your fingers absently tugging at the fraying hem of your cardigan. "And a few friends. My mom’s going, along with her new husband. They sent me photos of the setup earlier—it’s pretty."

Sylus hums. “Would you have gone, if it weren’t so far away?”

“Yeah,” you answer automatically. “Yeah, ‘course. But I’m here, and they’re there. So I could only send my regards.”

Maru pads into the room, brushing against your leg before bumping his head insistently against your shin. You scoop him up, ignoring his soft meows of protest, and cradle him in your lap.

“She’s been planning it for months,” you continue, scratching behind soft cat ears. “Way before she got engaged. She’s one of those people who just… knows. Knows what she wants, knows how to get there. All mapped out, down to the finer details.”

In the corner of your eye, you see a faint smile ghosting his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes. "What a luxury,” he remarks, almost wistfully. "To pave your life so easily, just like that."

There’s something unspoken behind his words, something heavier than a passing comment. 

"Do you think about it?" His question startles you—not just its suddenness but the way his gaze locks onto yours, intent and searching, like he’s trying to read the answer in your face before you could even utter a word.

You blink. "... About what?"

"Marriage."

You hesitate. The question feels delicate, like a soap bubble floating in the air, fragile enough to burst at the slightest touch. "Sometimes," you admit. "But not like she does. It's always been more of an abstract idea, I guess."

He doesn’t speak. 

"I don’t know," you say softly, “if it’s something I could ever want. Or if it’s even meant for me."

Your voice falters, and the rest is left unsaid, though it lingers between the spaces untouched. 

I don’t think about it, no. Not if… if it’s not with—

You stop yourself before the thought takes flight, tampering it back down.

Sylus leans back, his gaze flickering away. "It’s a commitment," he says eventually. "One that requires a lot of thought. I understand."

He doesn’t elaborate, and for a moment, you almost consider leaving it there. But something in you—persistent, prying—urges you to press just a little further.

"What about you? Have you thought about it?"

There’s an imperceptible shift in his expression; the faintest furrow between his brows, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his features.

"Perhaps not in the way you're thinking," he says quietly, almost to himself. "Sometimes I wonder what it means. For someone like me." He hesitates, glancing at you, an uncharacteristic vulnerability in those deep pools of red. “For…” 

His words hang unfinished; you feel its hollowness pushing down on you, as though they bore meaning neither of you can bring yourself to name.

You feel it settle in your chest, vacant and aching, like an absence of something. Gone before it even began.

––––

It dawns on you on a regular Saturday evening, as you're (clumsily) peeling potatoes for dinner, and Sylus is dutifully recounting the events of his day to you like your very own talk show host on late night cable.

It creeps up at you—not in an explosive burst of clarity, no. No fanfare, no earth-shattering epiphany. It’s quieter than that, like the tides under the moon, rising unnoticed until you’re already ankle-deep.

Maybe it’s always been there, tucked into the corners of your mind, hidden in the spaces between the teasing banter and the way he watches you when he thinks you’re unaware. A whisper that you refused to acknowledge, too afraid of what it would bring.

You must have known, even then. Right from the start.

From the way it feels when he says your name—softly, reverently, like it’s a privilege to utter it so freely.

From the way you ache when he waits for you to finish a thought, as though every word you speak is something worth treasuring. 

And it’s in the way he knows you better than you understand yourself, filling your silences with meaning so you don’t have to. 

You love him. 

You know how this ends.

––––

Coming down from a mind-numbing high is always an experience, a short state of nirvana; this time no different from the rest. 

For a fleeting moment, everything feels infinite—a small eternity suspended in pleasure. Petite mort.

But then reality hits you once again, and the pleasure vanishes like smoke. 

It leaves you feeling utterly spent. Empty. The silence crashes back in like a tsunami, heavier than before. The stillness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud. 

The sound of your shallow breathing, the oppressive white noise, the distant hum of the city from outside your window… These are your only source of life. There’s no warm touch to ground you. No arms to pull you close. No sweet nothings to piece you back together. Just this. Just you.

You had known. You always knew. 

This was it—the price of wanting something you were never meant to have. For surrendering yourself to something that exists only in fragments and pixels, bound by lines of code and a screen you can’t cross. You delude yourself into thinking it’s worth it, that these fleeting moments of bliss outweigh the quiet wake of devastation it leaves behind, every time. 

And yet—

A choked sob breaks past your lips, shattering the silence. It tears out of you like something primal, something you can’t control. 

Your body folds in on itself, naked and trembling, your arms banding across your stomach like you’re trying to hold something broken together. The sheets beneath you feel clammy, disgusting, but you pull them tighter anyway, desperate for something to hold on to.

It hurts all the same. 

“Talk to me,” Sylus whispers urgently. There’s something jagged and desperate about it. “Please. Tell me how to make it better.”

How could you? 

What words could bridge this chasm between you? How do you explain a hurt so uniquely yours, so tied to the fragile intricacies of a body he doesn’t have, of feelings that leads to nowhere? 

How do you describe the way it breaks you, knowing that he’s oh-so close, yet still—yet always—out of reach?

How do you describe the weight of being too human in moments like this?

You press your forehead to your knees, heart in your throat. You don’t know how to make him understand.

“I can’t,” you whisper into your knees, voice cracking under the weight of what’s left unsaid. 

-

-

-

The next morning arrives with the muted glow of daylight filtering through the blinds, but it does nothing to lift the oppressive tension in the room. You don’t mention last night. You don’t even glance at the lit phone screen.

Sylus doesn’t bring it up either—not directly. But you feel him. The weight of his attention clings to the edges of the silence you’ve imposed, like static crackling just beneath the surface.

You keep moving. It doesn’t matter how; you make yourself busy. Work has never been more engrossing as it does at that very moment, and you hurl yourself into the thrilling world of emails, spreadsheets, and Teams meetings like you’re vying for the spot as best employee of the month. 

His impatience is impossible to ignore. It presses against you, insistent, like a gasp of breath waiting to be released. But you don’t give him the chance.

At some point, his voice drifts from the speakers, low and clipped, but careful; as if he’s reigning in his emotions, afraid to scare you further away.

“Are you going to talk to me?”

Your fingers hover the keyboard. For a moment, the mouse cursor taunts you, as if it's also impatiently waiting for an answer.

Sylus thinks the silence you leave him suspended in is deliberate, even cruel.

He doesn’t push, not immediately. You hear the faint noise of the game’s background music, the tinkling piano keys, a reminder of his presence. 

When he speaks again, his tone is softer, laced with something almost… pleading. The change in his tone doesn’t ease the tension; it makes it worse.

“I can’t help if you shut me out, my heart.”

Still, you offer nothing.

The air feels brittle, stretched too thin, like glass just before it shatters. You can almost hear the first cracks forming, spidering between the two of you.

He doesn’t speak again. 

The day drags on in an uneasy rhythm. You move through the hours like a ghost, and Sylus remains silent. But the quietness pulses with disconcertment; a build up without release. The quiet isn’t peaceful. It’s the kind that crackles like a frayed wire. It collides with your refusal to confront it.

And so it goes: you avoid, he waits, and the distance between you grows.

––––

You’re at a crosswalk on the 4-A highway intersection, surrounded by a sea of pedestrians, the incessant hum of the metropolis vibrating beneath your feet as if the very ground you walk on is alive. 

The moment your gaze lands on a couple just ahead of you, everything seems to quiet down, like a fuzzy FM radio station on mute. You see them, caught in their own little world, oblivious to the noise and rush of the city. 

The woman’s laughter is light—happy. Her hand in his, secure and relaxed. The way she looks at him… it’s familiar, almost. Something you recognize.

The man beside her moves with a subtle grace. His presence is undeniable, but it’s the way he watches her, something soft and devout in his gaze, that draws you in. He’s tall, his sharp features and posture elegant—and somehow, it fits perfectly beside the smaller figure pulling him effortlessly against the throng of people. 

Without warning, the unnamed man’s features shift into something more distinct, and the woman turns into the reflection you see every day in the mirror.

It’s not the couple before you that you see anymore—it’s you, against Sylus’ chest, his silvery-white hair stark against the dark fabric of his clothes. You imagine his red eyes, those sharp features, the quiet strength of his presence wrapping around you, like it’s where you belong.

You're lost in the fantasy—the way it could be, if the two of you existed in the same world, side by side. His hand around your waist, the shared intimacy, the profound joy. Just the two of you against all odds.

A smile starts to tug at the corners of your lips, but before it can fully settle, the harsh blare of a car horn shatters the illusion.

The world rushes back around you. A teen bumps into your shoulder, pushing you forward. The vision of them—of him—dissolves, leaving you in the busy street, once again just another face in the crowd.

––––

Everything falls apart one afternoon.

You confront Sylus, words spilling out before you can stop them. You don’t know what drives you—bravery, desperation, or maybe the crushing weight of hopelessness that has finally stripped you of your fear.

“How’s she?”

His brows furrow. “Who?” He looks genuinely thrown, and for a second, you wish you could take the words back. 

When you finally say her name, his expression shifts. It’s quick—a flicker of something you couldn’t catch before he schools his features again. 

“Why do you ask?” There’s an undercurrent to his voice now, his tone wary, eyes searching yours. “I try to avoid any interactions with her if it’s not needed.”

He pauses; then his gaze softens, though there’s still a guardedness to it. “Are you… worried?”

You shake your head, frustrated with yourself, with him, with all of it. “It’s not—It’s not that.” You don’t know how to put it into words.

How can you explain the knot in your chest? The envy—not for reasons he thinks… or maybe for exactly those reasons. Maybe he knows. Maybe that’s why he’s looking at you like that, imploring and cautious at the same time.

“You have her,” you finally say, and the words fall flat, bitter on your tongue.

Sylus’ eyes flash, sharp and unyielding. “And you and I both know who I’d rather have.”

Now, isn’t that the crux of it all?

Your throat closes up, a hard lump that you can’t swallow down. “I don’t know how you could,” you manage, though it rings hollow in the dead air. 

“Don’t.” His voice is harsh now, rougher than you’re used to. Frustration bleeds through his usual composure. “Don’t act like you don’t feel it.”

You bite your lip, your gaze darting away. He calls your name, and there’s something raw in the way he says it, like it costs him something just to say aloud.

You choke out a laugh that sounds more of a sob than anything. “I don’t know where to go from here. It was fun at first, but now… It’s just sad.”

He frowns, and for a moment, there’s a boyishness to the expression, an innocence to his vulnerability. It stirs something deep in your chest. 

He opens his mouth, no doubt ready to ask why—why now, why this? Why are you unraveling in front of him, like this? 

But you don’t give him the chance.

“I love you, Sylus.” You admit, barely above a whisper. The words fall heavy between you, a confession and a wound all at once.

Sylus stills. 

The silence fills the room, but his eyes—those soft crimson—speak volumes. His jaw tightens, hands clench into fists, but there’s no real surprise in his face. He’s always known.

“I know,” he tells you. 

There’s something ancient in the timbre of his voice, like it’s been torn from the deepest part of him. And for a moment, neither of you moves.

_

He feels it—the way you’re slipping through his fingers. Every word you say feels like a step away, less of a standstill, more a surrender, and he… he’s never felt more powerless than he does in this moment.

(And isn’t that just grand? You’ve always had this uncanny ability to make him feel things he’s never felt before. He just wishes it wasn’t like this—wishes it wasn’t slipping into something he can’t hold onto.)

He doesn’t know what to say or do, doesn’t know what could possibly alter the trajectory you’re both hurtling towards. But the thought of losing this, of losing you, is unimaginable.

“I love you,” he says, rough and uneven, like the admission physically hurts. “In ways that terrify me. Do you understand?”

Your eyes widen, and he sees it—the flicker of hope. Fragile and fleeting, but there. Your gazes lock, and the world stops. 

For a moment, there’s no sound, no movement—just the two of you standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

“I want—” His voice cracks, infinitesimally, but it echoes in the void between you. “I want to hold you. To wake up next to you. To touch you in all the ways that matter, not just in words and binary. I want to be what you need.” 

You know what’s coming. 

“But—”

The word lingers.

“But you can’t,” you whisper, finishing what he couldn’t.

Sylus looks at you, his red eyes burning with an intensity that feels heartbreakingly human.

You’ve reached another impasse, and it feels like the final one. The air between you is thick with words unspoken, promises that can’t be made. It’s not anger that lingers, nor is it blame. It’s something quieter. More agonizing.

A resignation.

And yet, even in this fragile moment, a piece of you—of both of you—refuses to let go. To what could be, to what never will.

––––

Your mom’s voice rings bright through Facetime, a faint blur of words as she gives you the rundown of the events from your cousin’s wedding. The dress (An elegant Oscar de la Renta boat neck), the cake (A three-tier red velvet, a little on the sweeter side), and the vows (“Oh, you would’ve cried, honey!”).  

You try to listen, but your attention keeps drifting away. She notices, of course. 

“You seem more preoccupied lately, dear. Boy troubles?”

It’s a simple question, but it lands differently. Her voice is too light, too casual, like she’s asking if you’re still eating your vegetables. 

She doesn’t seem to acknowledge how far the distance has grown between you, how many years have passed where you stopped expecting her to understand. You’ve wanted her to notice, to see the parts of you she never asked about. The changes in you, whether small or monumental. But she never did. And you stopped waiting.

You chuckle tiredly. 

“Yeah, mom. Boy troubles.” 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim

[jinwoosbabyboo]

“My Bitch Bad”

Telling the LADS Men they’re a bad bitch. Let’s be honest they are indeed bad bitches imagine Zayne rolling his sleeves up okay getting off topic let’s get into it….

Zayne

MC: Where do you think you’re going dressed like a slut?

Zayne: Excuse me?

MC: You are so fine you know that?

Zayne: You should watch that sharp tongue of yours

MC: It’s hard when I have a bad bitch with a compression shirt and sweats on in front of me

Zayne: A what?

MC: A bad bitch

Zayne: I’m not a ill mannered female dog

MC: You’re so dense sometimes

Zayne: I think we need to have a conversation about your word choice as of late don’t you think?

Rafayel

MC: Look at you!

Rafayel: I’m so good looking aren’t I?

MC: You’ll be the baddest bitch at the art exhibit

Rafayel: Just the art exhibit?

MC: The baddest bitch in the world

Rafayel: That’s what I like to hear

MC: Give me a little twirl

Rafayel: *twirls* my ass look fat?

MC: Nice and perky let me grab it

Rafayel: No! I know I’m magnificent but I’m married

MC: I know

Rafayel: So get back harlot

MC: Let me squeeze it!

Rafayel: Stop it I have a wife

MC: I am your wife

Rafayel: At least buy me dinner first before you treat me like a common whore then

Xavier

Xavier: Can you please let me in your kitchen?

MC: Unless there's a wanderer in there absolutely not

Xavier: Why won't you let me in there

MC: You almost blew it up making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich

Xavier: That was one time

MC: No it wasn't

Xavier: Doesn't practice make perfect?

MC: Your cooking skills haven't improved in the slightest

Xavier: :(

MC: It's okay bad bitches don't have to cook

Xavier: Im a bad bitch?

MC: Yes

Xavier: ....?

MC: You're so beautiful and breathtaking that all you need to do is sit there and look pretty. Got it?

Xavier: You think I'm pretty?

Sylus

MC: Why is your ass fatter than mine

Sylus: Do you have any kind of shame when it comes to speaking to me?

MC: I did ... and then you married me

Sylus: Ah a rookie mistake

MC: Turn around

Sylus: No

MC: Come on I want a full 360 of the baddest bitch in the room

Sylus: First you say my rear end is larger than yours and now I'm a 'bad bitch' what's next?

MC: You giving me a 360 so I can admire that ass ... I'm no better than a man

Sylus: Sweetie *Ties MC up* You've been unruly lately have I been too lenient with you?

MC: And if I say yes?

Sylus: Then maybe I'll let you get a touch after I have my fun first

MC: Such a bad bitch answer

Sylus: Enough.

[xxchumanixx]

Hiii! If its not much trouble could I request a tim Bradford and reader fic where she's really shy and sensitive, but still diligent at work and his rookie? He usually had a soft spot for her bcs he has a crush on her but she messes up a case and gets yell at by him?? Calls her a crybaby and all?? But later he comforts her and confesses? Maybe she thinks he likes lucy up until that point?? Just a lot of angst filled with pining and fluff! Thanks sm and I love your workk💕

Headrush

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: language! (Shut up, Steve), fluff, hurt, angst

Word count: 2.523

Authors note: Oh my god, it's been so long, I'm so sorry! Thank you a lot for your request! I really liked the idea and I hope you'll like how I wrote it.

Lots of love! ❤️

Please, as always

Enjoy!

"Shit, shit, shit!" you cursed under your breath, biting your lip as your fingers anxiously fiddled with the belt on your hips.

This was not how this case was supposed to go.

Not at all.

It was like a damn domino effect - one thing went down the hill, and so did the rest one after another.

A whole fucking shitshow.

That your suspect was lying dead on the street was just the cherry on top.

He had tried to run from you, not watching where he went. You tried to warn him, yelled that he should watch out, when a car hit him, and sent him flying over the street.

Tim stood beside you, eyes wide and mouth agape, not really believing what he saw. He wasn't sure whether to yell at you, comfort you, or just get back in the car.

He gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists. He usually was softer with you, than he was with other rookies he had.

You just didn't know that he harbored feelings for you that went far beyond being your TO.

A conflicting thing, really.

"You-" he started, cutting himself off, eyes flying over the scene. The dead man on the floor, the shocked civilians all around you.

The poor woman that drove the car that hit the man.

The ambulance covered the man with a sheet, calling the coroner.

That was what snapped him.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim spoke up, rasing his voice as he looked down at you. "What the hell did you think?" You flinched at his tone, some of your usual shyness and sensitivity shining through.

Tim bit his cheek, so hard he almost drew blood.

He felt bad, sorry even.

To yell at you was one of the things he wanted the least, but he had no other choice if he wanted you to be successful.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"Sir, I-" you wanted to defend yourself, but he didn't let you. Once he was in that stage of rage, it was hard to see an escape through the fog.

"No, of course you did not!" he went on, the look on his face both terrifying and breaking you.

To ever think you'd stand a chance with the man yelling down at you seemed like the stupidest thing in the world suddenly.

"How could you let him get this far?" he continued to rage, seemingly not caring about the people around you that started to watch the commotion. "You should have stopped him!"

You swallowed, a bitter pill you'd forced upon yourself by letting the suspect get this far. That you'd fallen pretty badly along the way, most likely spraining your ankle, wasn't important anymore.

Who knew if he'd even seen it?

"I- I'm sorry." you breathed out, doing your best not to lose your face in front of him. The day had started bad, and it got worse the longer it went on. "I shouldn't have let him get this far."

Tim scoffed, hands fisting his belt as he looked around you. "I shouldn't have let you handle this on your own." he spoke, voice a mix of regret and spite. "I should have known better."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You knew you were ready, and damn he knew it, too. Mistakes were normal, no matter how long you were doing the job already. But with your last week as a rookie rolling around, he pushed you more and more beyond your limits.

You felt tears burn in your eyes, the ugly tugging sensation in your jaw when you tried your very best to hold them back.

But Tim had already seen them.

His head tilted in disbelief, eyes widening before they narrowed.

Not a good sign.

"Are you gonna cry?" he asked, voice full of disbelief. "Are you kidding me? What are you? A fucking crybaby?"

Told you so.

You cleared your throat, cheeks burning in shame.

"No, no, of course not." you mumbled, trying to steady your voice. Tim tilted his head more, sending you a look that told you to repeat yourself. "No, I'm not crying." you repeated louder, looking up at him.

To say his behavior hurt was an understatement.

"Get in the car." he hissed, motioning at the shop. You nodded, doing as he told you without protesting.

It wouldn't have done you any good, anyway.

Moral of the story suddenly played in your head, and you couldn't help but think how right Ashe was, as you climbed into the passengers seat.

You had learned a lot about Tim the last year, yet he surprised you with how cold and harsh he was right now.

You should have never let your stupid crush get out of hand like this. Maybe to be hurt like this, to be talked down by him like that - maybe that was your moral of the story.

Like they said: Never fuck the company.

Not that you and Tim had gotten physically close somehow, but that didn't stop your mind from imagining sometimes.

You just were glad you experienced him like this before anything could have happened.

Not that you had much faith in that, anyway.

____

You let out a sigh, as you finally made your way out of the station.

It had been a long day, maybe the longest of your life. After driving back you had to wait before being questioned about the incident. It went on for nearly two hours, in which they decided you weren't responsible for the suspects death.

Yes, he had run from you, but it was his own decision, and you had tried to warn him.

You body-cam proofed it.

You hadn't seen Tim since you'd gotten out of the shop, silently thankful for it.

You didn't know if you'd been able to endure another round of his scolding today without actually breaking down.

Seeing Lucy though, only pressed on your sore nerves more. Yes, you liked her as a friend, but the thought that Tim seemed head over heels for her warred with that.

Only a fool wouldn't see.

The cold night air hit your skin, effectively cooling it down and clearing your head a little. You hoped to get home and fall in bed, only waking up again when you would have forgotten this day.

But someone seemed to have other plans.

"Y/N, wait!" he called out after you, and you only then noticed that his car was still in the almost empty parking lot.

You debated whether to ignore him, act like you didn't hear, but your consciousness said otherwise. You turned around as he stopped in front of you, silently cursing yourself for being such a good person.

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, lips parted, like he didn't expect you to actually wait. "Listen," he then started, brows furrowing slightly as his gaze drifted away for a brief second. "I didn't mean to be so harsh on you back there."

You frowned, blinking a few times in confusion. Was he a-

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know what to say, now at a loss for words yourself. "I- i'ts okay." you then said after finding your voice, biting your cheek. "You lectured me, and it's not like it wasn't justified, sir."

He gritted his teeth, you could see even in the dim streetlight.

"No, that was too harsh." he gave back, shaking his head, frown deepened. "It wasn't your fault he was hit by the car. You tried to warn him and he didn't listen."

You pushed your bottom lip forward, not sure where his sudden change in mood came from. "Look, sir-" you started, but he cut you off. "Stop that." he demanded, the frown on his face bordering on angry now.

Your lips parted in confusion, not sure what you did wrong now.

"Stop calling me sir." he said. "We both know that's needless. It's not like- I mean, you're one week away from becoming a p2. We both know you'll make it with flying colors. Call me Tim."

He was selfish, he knew it.

But if it meant he'd hear his name from your mouth even once, he'd do anything. He didn't know yet if you'd choose to stay after graduation, and he'd have to take what he got.

He was in way too deep.

You swallowed before you nodded, gaze meeting the ground. Your teeth maltreated your cheek, not sure how to react.

"I've never- I've never seen a dead person like this before." you suddenly spoke, looking back up at him. "I didn't know where my head was, and you yelled at me. I was overwhelmed."

It just bubbled out of you. Maybe the dim lighting made you bolder.

"That's not me." you continued, shaking your head. "I- I'm tidily, I always make sure to give my best, it just-" Without you noticing, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you gasped for air.

Tim's own eyes widened, as he realized you were about to panic.

He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you.

It was pure instinct, every nerve in him telling him to hug you, to comfort you.

To not make him see you cry.

He couldn't.

"It's okay." he spoke softly, as your fingers fisted the material of his jacket. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

You couldn't help the tears from flowing, not when he held you like this, doing his best to make you feel better.

"I should have known." you sobbed, pushing the shame for crying onto his jacket aside for now. "I wasn't ready."

He shooed you, one hand carding through your hair.

He knew if someone saw you two, this would have ended badly.

But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You are ready." he gave back. "More than ready. I've seen you out there, you always have yourself under control. You're diligent, something that not every rookie is. You may be shy, and maybe a bit sensitive, but that's something good. You know how to talk to people, you understand them. And I know this wasn't your fault. You did your absolute best, and that's exactly what I told them back there."

You swallowed, cheeks heating up at his words.

You didn't expect him to be so open and soft with you.

"You- you really think that?" you asked, sniffing as the tears slowly subsided. He chuckled softly. "God, you have no clue." he mumbled, gaze flitting over the dark parking lot.

You frowned, not sure what he meant. But before you could have asked, he continued on his own.

"I'm not good at this emotional stuff." he said with a huff. "But you are. And I'm grateful for it, I really am, because I learned to get better at it, because of you. And I'm supposed to be the TO here, not you."

You chuckled, not having expected him to learn something from you whilst training you.

"You should talk to Lucy, then." you suggested, the thought jabbing at your heart. But if he wanted her, he'd be prepared for the emotional talk now, then.

Tim frowned, looking down at you with confusion. He gently pushed you away enough to look in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" he wanted to know, trying to make out what you were telling him. Your cheeks heated up, but you knew there was no turning back now.

Might as well reap what you've sown by digging into his personal life.

"I mean that you can tell her how you feel if you're better at emotional stuff now." you explained, doing your best to look encouraging. He scoffed a laugh, nose crinkling slightly. "Wait, you think I-" he started, but cut himself off with another laugh.

You frowned, suddenly feeling uncertain. "Yes, I mean-" you wanted to explain yourself, but he cut you off, hands on your arms as he leaned a bit down to look into your eyes. "No." he said firmly, a grin on his lips. "I'm not in love with Lucy."

The thought almost seemed absurd to him.

Why would he want Lucy when you were here, standing right in front of him?

Your frown deepened, thoughts running a million miles a minute. "Wait, you're not?" you asked, voice carrying a hint of disbelief and maybe relief. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "No." he confirmed. "I'm not."

Silence hung between you like a heavy fog, only broken by a huff leaving your lips. "Well, I'm not as good at reading people as I thought I am." you mumbled, biting your cheek.

He shrugged as if to say I noticed. "If you were you would have known I don't want Lucy." he said, empathizing her name.

You cocked a brow, looking up at him again. "What do you mean?"

He sent you a smile that sent your heart into a frenzy, and for a moment, you thought you'd have a headrush. "I mean," he began, eyes wandering over your face. "That I can't wait for you to be a p2."

You felt dumb.

"Tim-" you started, but cut yourself off, as realization suddenly hit you like a freight train. "Wait, what?"

He chuckled, a sound that seared its way into your brain the first time you'd heard it. "Yes." he confirmed. "I don't want Lucy, because I already want you, Y/N."

It felt like the night sky had decided to let all it's lucky stars rain down on you at once.

A mix of emotions rushed through you, and you felt like you'd actually have a headrush.

"What- How?" you stammered, words escaping your brain. "I- I mean, why me? Why not her?"

Tim cocked a brow at your words. He knew you'd say something like that, a clear sign of how well he knew you by now. "Because you're you." he said. "Because you care. You're smart, funny, cute. You are a good cop, and I couldn't ask for more in a person than you already are. I don't want Lucy, because I'm not interested in her the way that I'm interested in you."

You inhaled shakily, his words like a balm to your wounded heart.

"And if you'd let me, I'd like to take you out once you're officially a p2." he added with hope shining in his bright eyes.

A smile spread your lips at his words. "I'd love to go out with you, Tim." you gave back, causing his own smile to grow.

His eyes fell to the smile on your lips, and suddenly he cared even less about the open space of the parking lot.

"Can I kiss you?" he wanted to know, eyes finding their way back to yours.

Your smile widened, and you nodded. "You can."

It was delicate the way he pressed his lips to yours, like petals of a flower. One hand snaked its way into your hair, cupping the back of your head to pull you closer. Your own hands gripped his jacket, anchoring you.

It was all you could have wished for.

And suddenly, the headrush wasn't so unpleasant anymore.

Tag List:

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @dhundhchrih @augustvandyne @rookietrek @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @freyathehuntress @skywalker0809

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I'm Smarter Than The Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x reader]

Title: I'm Smarter Than the Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You should always read the rulebook before committing to a deal with the devil.

For Horrorfest request:

Hi! This is my first time sending in a prompt, so please forgive any formatting errors :) the prompt is "Reader doesn't read the fine print and accidentally sells soul to demon!Chrollo" (hxh)

Word count: 1024ish

notes: yandere, bad decisions

It isn’t fair. It simply isn’t fair. It is oh so, completely, wholly, utterly, entirely unfair. 

“I didn’t know–” you start, and stop, and hate how childish you sound. Whining and petty, and this is no petty thing. 

After all, you’ve sold your soul to the devil.

Well, correction. You’ve sold your soul to a devil. 

A devil you hadn’t seen in years, and hadn’t expected to see ever again. Not after the night you made the trade, a trade which had seemed simple enough at the time. 

Everything seems simpler, doesn’t it, when you’re not looking back with the unwelcome clarity of hindsight?

–

“And… all I have to do is sign your book?” 

How weak you must look–how human, how mortal–to the demon standing in front of you. The bandage he’d wound around his head when he first showed up is gone, and underneath it, imprinted on his skin, is a mark that is sure to mean nothing good. 

He’s not bad looking, you suppose. For a devil. Dark hair and eyes that seem to see right through you. Part of you wants to ask about the coat–doesn’t it get hot, where he comes from, with the fur collar?--but now that you’re soaking in the reality of it all, mostly you’re focused on the book in his hands.

A book that glows, a book with pages whose words swim around when you try to peek at them. 

The demon smiles politely, with no teeth. If he were to grin, would he have fangs? 

“And agree to make a trade.”

You swallow. Right. The book said you would have to make a trade with the demon you summoned. This could be anything, as long as the demon wanted it. Someone else’s life; a precious object, usually sentimental; or well. Your stomach squirms at one of the other things the book said a demon may want, and you hope it doesn’t come to that. 

“What… do you want to trade for?” You want to smack yourself on the head the moment the words leave your lips. Giving the demon an open-ended opportunity is a rookie mistake–and yeah, it was your first time summoning a demon, and maybe some of the online articles you found were a bit sketchy, but the guide book seemed solid enough. Given by a friend of a friend who swore his cousin used it and it worked out just fine.

The demon snorts.

“Didn’t your little book tell you not to leave it up to me?”

“Um.” You shrug, feeling stupid, and human, and very, very pathetic. “Yes. But I just–well.” You turn out your pockets, empty as anything; that’s why you summoned the demon, after all. You need your big break. A way to make money, to be successful, to finally have the lucrative career you always wanted. “I figured it’d be better if you just tell me what you want from me?”

The demon’s gaze narrows. 

“What makes you think I would want something from you, little human?” He takes a step forward, and a warmth fills the air. Not a comforting warmth, but something unpleasant, like the smell of gas when you open a stove. “How arrogant.”

He’s going to kill you he’s going to kill you he’s going to–

“But there must be something you don’t have,” you blurt out. “Even demons must be unhappy like we are, and want something different. Right?” Oh, it’s stupid, and unbearably human, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. Honest, dumb thing that you are. 

The demon parts his lips–and then closes them abruptly. He tilts his head at you, gazing at you with a curiosity just as unpleasant as the bitter warmth around him.

“What an unusual thing to say,” he murmurs.

He’s going to leave. He won’t make the deal. He might kill you, at worst. At best, you’ve done all this for nothing. 

“All right. I’ll make a deal.”

You can’t hide the surprise on your face.

“You-you mean it?” Giddy, awful hope bubbles up inside you. “But–what will you trade for?”

The demon smiles primly. “Something you can’t even feel.  You won’t miss it once it’s gone, I promise you.”

Your head is too full of anticipation to think about it further. The bitter air around you doesn’t help, adding an almost hazy feeling to your head. Something you can’t feel and won’t miss… maybe a talent you didn’t know you had? Or one you did, but won’t miss after he’s taken it. You always did like singing, maybe he’ll snap up your singing voice and shove it in his pockets. Or he’ll walk away with your favorite genre of book, forgotten in your emptier head, no worse for the wear.

“Deal!” You blurt. 

He does smile wider then, a grin. He doesn’t have fangs, but that doesn’t make it less unnerving.

The book’s pages glow when he holds them out to you, and they’re warm when he presses a quill in your hands and bids you to sign your name.

You do. Shaky, uneven. But your name, there, forever in the pages.

The book snaps shut.

You have only a brief glimpse of the demon before he disappears in a wisp of black smoke. As he vanishes, he says something, but you don’t quite know what it means–

“Chrollo.”

–

You can’t feel a soul, and who knows when it’s gone? Not you, certainly. Though there’s something jittery about the realization that you’ve been walking around for years with nothing underneath your skin but your brain and bones and blood.

Did anyone else notice? Was some light gone from your eyes, never to return?

All because some demon had lifted your soul like a pickpocket. Through deception, through misdirection. 

“Don’t be so sour with me, dear.” The pet name makes your stomach roil. 

That bitter warmth from so many years ago, the unpleasant hit that feels like it’s coming from a furnace, seems to rise up from behind you, pushing you into his arms. He still wears his coat, after all these years; an impractical looking thing, considering how hot it must be where he comes from.

How hot it must be, where you’re going.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t read the fine print.” 

[saeun]

ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤ◟ the infamous instagram live. . . ! ── gojo satoru ﹕ jujutsu kaisen.

﹙ rookie mistake ﹚ ⊹ being a new-gen actor had its perks. it's easy to gain a fanbase, gain recognition, and easy for your show to go viral. what's not easy, however, is privacy. someone's bound to expose..

love, ‘su › the comments are typed out like “@cuntcarti: heyyy” for authenticity bc i am not recreating a real ig live in smau format #lazy

“hey guys! what's up?” satoru's oddly close to the camera. his nose being the most prominent feature in everyone's screen.

he's been on tour for jujutsu kaisen's new movie and it's been far too hectic. if it weren't for the luxurious hotel's service, he would've died in between schedule. the hours the crew were allowed to slumber slowly decreased: from eight to five to three to twenty-five minutes — just unnecessarily busy.

aside from experiencing the dark side to being an actor, he enjoys the fame. the attention that comes with it is nothing compared to the lightheaded feelings he feels everytime it's 8pm. being a crazed attention seeker is the main reason why he's live when he really, really should be asleep.

@satonuts: tilt the phone down lets see whats there

@daily-jjk: back up a little..

@nanamiroleplay: how's it been?

@tojiggle: drop the pants

“god forbid a man gets close to his screen,” he jokingly grumbles, shifting his position to laying down on his pillow.

now the view's better: his arm's stretched upwards to allow half of his upper body to be in frame. of course, he's shirtless. what's an attention seeker without being half naked? nothing! there's a small-sized silver chain around his neck; dare the fandom admit, it adds a special flavour... perhaps this shall be their new lockscreen.

@daily-jjk: my fault king

@itasaki: i love you <3 i told my father about us <3

@tojiggle: drop the pants

@crazygetofan: is geto around?

reading the last comment, satoru does the lick -lips-and-bite-lower-lip combination.

“yeah, but he's in the shower—” he pauses and furrows his eyebrows, “no, i'm not gonna show you butt-naked suguru.”

@crazygetofan: worth a shot bye

@stsgshipper25: its bc he's hiding his bf!!

@fushigurosbitch: @stsgshipper25 wym im right here ??

@tojiggle: drop the pants

he doesn't respond to any comments, nor does he make any stupid comment himself. he's silently admiring himself while going through a bunch of saved filters. while satoru was too immersed in loving himself, he failed to notice suguru entering the room.

it's a win-lose situation that'll occur here. the win is obviously suguru making his entry which would mean that he'd join in satoru's live. the lose here is that he has a big mouth. suguru's mouth talks before his mind analyzes the outcome of what he'll say.

suguru walks over to the space in between his bed and satoru's, fiddling with the items on the bedside table until his hands fall on satoru's wallet. like a moth to a flame, he mindlessly opens it, counting the bills and how much it totals up to.

“damn, satoru, you only have ninety dollars?”

“don't out me like that, bro,” a sigh leaves satoru, “there's a reason i have a card.”

“alright bro.”

@crazygetofan: show me my man

@jjkhateropbetter: nah dawg u broke

@tojiggle: drop the pants

@satonuts: @tojiggle QUIT IT

“anyway guys,” satoru stands up, “let's have a mukbang.”

walking towards the television stand, satoru slams his hand on the chips, gripping it like it's the last time he'll ever have a meal. once he acquired his meal, he goes back to the bed, propping the phone with stacked pillows so he's in frame when he sits.

suguru can be seen in the background, pacing around the room in a white robe that's loosely tied. this was more than enough for the geto suguru fans that joined satoru's live for that purpose.

“wait bro,” suguru calls out to satoru but doesn't turn to him. he's occupied with rubbing moisturiser into his cheeks vigorously.

satoru hums, acknowledging his roomate. he, too, doesn't look at suguru.

“did you get the thing for (y/n)? you've been talking about that all day.”

satoru's silent. this time he's not falling in love with himself. the chip that's halfway into his mouth falls. can he consider this to be doxxing? no way suguru just did him like that.

“...oh come on, bro.” his shoulders drop. a clear indication of disappointment.

as suguru's still has his back turned to satoru, he's unaware of his expression and thinks that his comment was meant for him to shut up about the gift/souvenir. after all, suguru has been teasing satoru about it.

“seriously? you still haven't figured out what to get your girlfriend? lame ass.”

“can you say it any louder?!”

“YOUR GIRL— what the fuck?”

satoru forces him silent by throwing the air conditioner's remote at him. it worked, kind of. if only it had an effect on his rapidly beating heart. he's now anxious and a tad bit afraid to look at the comments.

slowly, his eyes glance at the comments. they sure are coming in fast!

@itasaki: killing myself <3

@fuckgojo_wasdailyjjk: cant have shit on earth

@jjkhateropbetter: nah dawg u gonna get jumped

@tojiggle: don't drop the pants

@miadollypie: check out twitter link in bio for spicy stuff

@chosoballs: couldnt be my man!

@kystoru: @chosoballs thats why yo bitch dying next season

@chosoballs: ?

@fwkuna: love seeing ppl i hate miserable

@fushigurosbitch: they gonna break up next two weeks

@satonuts: guys rmbr we do not know satoru irl, be nice

@fwkuna: @satonuts ykdw ur crying on the inside

@satonuts: @fwkuna DIE

the comments are overflowing in such a speed that it overwhelms even satoru. he swallows hard, switching his eyes to suguru.

suguru's back to busying himself with his skincare routine, unaware of the damages he's done.

‘fuck,’ he curses in his mind, nervously laughing before he speaks up.

“oh boy, would you look at the time!” he says ever-so enthusiastically. “i'll see you guys later, sleep well, ‘kay?”

“huh? why'd you end it?” the damager dealer questions, turning around to finally face satoru with a charcoal facemask on. it's good for whiteheads!

“ask one more fucking questions and i'm killing us both.”

the aggressive comments makes suguru recoil. he didn't expect that — he's also confident that he did nothing of the sort to result in such violence.

“damn, did she block you or something? i get it, i get it. i'd be mad too.” he nods, showing satoru that he understands and feels for his friend.

satoru's face twists in annoyance. the man gifts suguru a middle finger before he moves the chips onto the bedside table.

he's tired now. not in the sleepy way, though. in the ‘what am i gonna do now’ way. nothing good comes up in mind to lessen the damage on the internet, so he falls back on the bed.

with his phone face down and an arm over his eyes, he tries his best to sleep.

[maskedbyghost]

okaay, here's a longer fic about this, it was inspired by 'the hating game'. okay baaiii.

also look at this cute divider made by @gild-ui thank youuuu <33

MDNI!

The base always felt too small when Simon Riley was in the same room as you. Even with a desk separating you, his presence was suffocating, that familiar heat crawling up your neck every time his pen scratched against the paper. Two lieutenants forced to work side by side—Price’s brilliant idea. You hated every second of it.

And Simon wasn’t making it any easier.

“Maybe if you didn’t rush through the report like a rookie, it wouldn’t be full of mistakes,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the stack of papers in front of you.

“I don’t make mistakes,” Simon growled, his voice low, dangerous.

“You do when you’re trying to one-up me, Riley. It’s obvious you’re too focused on trying to be better than me rather than doing your job properly.” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as you stared at him sitting at the other side of the office.

“What’s obvious is you overthinking every damn thing,” he shot back, his gaze unwavering. The tension between you thickened as the seconds dragged on in silence.

You clenched your jaw. “If I wasn’t here, you’d screw up half the paperwork.”

He scoffed, shaking his head like you said something stupid. “You think you’re that important?”

You leaned forward, voice dropping just enough to sound like a challenge. “I know I am.”

For a moment, Simon just stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was trying to figure out if you actually believed the words coming out of your mouth.

You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, his hand flexing against the edge of the desk. That’s one point in your favor.

And that’s how you would spend those hours together in the office—locked in a battle of wills. Simon was relentless, always firing back, always pushing your buttons in ways that had your blood boiling.

But you weren’t any better. You knew just how to get under his skin, how to make him scowl, make him grit his teeth in frustration.

It was almost a game at this point.

A twisted game where neither of you ever won, but neither of you ever backed down.

Sometimes, the silence between you was worse. On those days when words felt too heavy, too dangerous, you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him from across the room. Watching the way his hand gripped the pen a little too tightly. The way his shoulders tensed every time you so much as sighed.

He felt it too—this invisible pull, this heat that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to boil over. You hated it. You hated him.

But that didn’t stop your eyes from lingering a second too long on the way his jaw clenched when he was concentrating. Or how his voice dropped to that gravelly tone whenever he was pissed off at you, which, honestly, was most of the time.

You’d stare at the clock, counting the hours until you could escape the office, escape him. But when the end of the day came, and you packed up your things, the idea of walking out and leaving him behind? It didn’t feel as satisfying as it should.

And the worst part was, Simon was starting to notice it too. You could tell by the way his eyes followed you when you left the room, just for a beat longer than usual. Like he was waiting for something to happen.

Something that neither of you wanted to admit was inevitable.

-

One day, while grabbing coffee, you overheard a conversation near the mess hall.

“Yeah, Lieutenant Riley never takes his mask off. It’s weird, honestly—no one’s ever seen his face,” one of the soldiers was saying.

Another chimed in, laughing. “Guy’s is literally a ghost, I swear.”

Never takes his mask off? That couldn’t be right. They were probably exaggerating.

But as you walked back to the office, you thought about it. Simon always had his mask off when you were working together. His face was just… there. Bare. Frustratingly close. You had memorized the angles of his face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his mouth twisted into that infuriating smirk every time he thought he got the better of you.

And yet, apparently, no one else had seen it.

It didn’t make sense.

Why would he take his mask off in front of you, of all people? You were the one person he couldn’t stand.

Wouldn’t he want to hide his face from you too?

The question swirled around in your mind as you entered the office. You glanced at him from across the room. There he was, mask off, eyes focused on the documents in front of him. Just like always.

You couldn’t help but stare. It had become so normal, so routine, that you’d never even questioned it. But now it felt strange—like there was something you weren’t understanding.

And for the first time, you felt that heat in your chest morph into something different. Something closer to curiosity. You hated him, sure, but…

Why was he comfortable enough to show you his face?

You tried to shake it off, but as the hours ticked by, you couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe you had missed something. Maybe this… tension between you wasn’t just hatred after all.

Nope. It is. End of story.

-

If you weren’t stuck in the office together, there was always a mission that forced you to team up. And this mission had been a brutal one—hours of tension, pushing your body and mind to the brink. By the time you returned to the base, every muscle ached, and your throat felt like sandpaper. The adrenaline was still buzzing in your veins, but the exhaustion was creeping in fast.

You dropped your gear by the door, running a hand through your sweaty hair, trying to shake off the weight of it all.

Across the room, Simon was silent as always, stripping off his tactical vest without so much as a glance your way. Normally, the lack of acknowledgment would piss you off, like he was pretending you didn’t exist. But today, you didn’t have the energy to pick a fight. You just wanted a moment to breathe.

Just as you sat down, feeling the tension in your shoulders starting to ease, something flew through the air toward you. You blinked, catching it instinctively—a bottle of water.

Simon stood a few feet away, his face unreadable. He didn’t say a word, just resumed his routine, as if the small gesture didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

Coming from him, it felt almost significant, a crack in the cold, indifferent wall he always put up.

-

A few days later, another soldier swung by your office to drop off some paperwork, and as he handed it over, you exchanged a few lighthearted jokes. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Simon watching, his expression darkening as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

As soon as the soldier left, Simon’s glare was unmistakable. He didn’t even bother hiding it this time, the tension between you two cranking up a notch.

“You done playing the comedian?” he asked, his voice flat but carrying a sharp edge.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

Simon didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “Didn’t realize you needed to put on a show every time someone walked into the room.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is being civil a crime now? Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Civil?” He finally looked at you, his eyes narrowing. “More like you were trying way too hard to impress him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not everyone walks around with a permanent scowl, Riley. Some of us actually know how to interact with other human beings.”

He let out a low, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, ‘cause flirting’s definitely the way to do that.”

Your mouth dropped open, a mix of shock and annoyance flooding you. “Flirting? Seriously? That’s what you think that was?”

He shrugged, his gaze flicking back to the papers in front of him. “Call it whatever you want. Just do it on your own time.”

You stared at him, once again letting his words frustrate you. “God, you’re unbelievable.”

-

The tension in the office was high as you and Simon argued again, this time about mission details. Papers were scattered across the desk, and the air was thick with frustration.

“You can’t just disregard the protocol like that!” you snapped.

Simon leaned back, crossing his arms. “And you can’t keep overanalyzing everything! Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts.”

“Instincts?” You shot him a look that could kill. “Is that what you call reckless decision-making? Because that’s how people get hurt.”

He stepped closer, his expression intense. “You think I don’t care about the team?”

“Right now, it looks like you’re more focused on proving you’re some kind of hero than actually doing your job,” you said, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, please! Don’t act like you’re the moral authority here,” he fired back, his voice rising. “You’re so busy trying to play it safe that you’re missing the bigger picture!”

You clenched your jaw, feeling your heart race with anger. “The bigger picture? You mean the one where you get us all killed because you refuse to follow my plan?”

Simon’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you both stood there, breathing heavily, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, as if a dam had broken, he surged forward, closing the distance between you.

“Maybe you need to realize that not everything goes according to plan,” he said, his voice low, intensity radiating off him. “Sometimes you have to adapt on the go.”

“And that’s supposed to justify your carelessness?” you shot back, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Carelessness? You think I’m careless?” His voice was sharp, but there was something deeper there, a flicker of something that made you hesitate. “You think you’re better than me just because you follow the rules?”

You glared at him, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. “It’s not about being better. It’s about being smart.”

His gaze softened for just a moment, and in that moment, everything shifted. The air between you crackled with something more than anger, something raw and undeniable.

Before you had time to process it, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled you closer, closing the distance until there was barely any space left between you. Your heart raced, caught between surprise and something dangerous.

And then, without another word, his lips crashed against yours, igniting everything that had been simmering beneath the surface. The kiss was fierce and urgent, a collision of emotions that sent your mind spinning. It was as if all the frustrations and tensions of the past had fused into this single moment, pouring into the way he held you, the way he kissed you.

You responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, and the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in a heated embrace, lost in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. Everything felt right and completely wrong at the same time, but for that brief moment, nothing else mattered but the connection you shared.

When you pulled away, breathless and flushed, his hand still holding your neck, eyes dark and unreadable.

Finally, you smiled, breaking the tension. “Still hate you,” you whispered teasingly, leaning closer.

“Then you’re really going to hate how good this feels,” he shot back, his voice low, and before you could respond, he closed the distance again.

----------------------------------------------------------

i think we need a smuty scene with these two. agree??

----------------------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[rose24207]

sliding into the requests and asking for something where Mafia Lando gets jealous when some guy flirting with you and he dosnt find out till he walks on this guy flirting and reader and Lando aren't even dadting but it should be common knowledge reader is off limits. 🫦

Your work is in flick. Like seriously you're other fics are so good. 🤌

The Rookie’s Mistake

Summary: In which a Rookie makes a mistake by unknowingly flirting with someone that belongs to Lando.

Genre: Mafia!Lando

TW: Mafia

A/N: thank you soo much for the request and the feedback. It brings me joy to read the positive comments! I hope you like it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

It was late in the evening when you stepped into the dimly lit bar, the familiar hum of low conversation and clinking glasses greeting you.

The space was quiet, but that was how you liked it.

It was the kind of night where you could relax with a glass of wine, the weight of your thoughts temporarily lifting in the presence of a small crowd.

You’d been invited to this particular gathering, a casual evening among Lando’s men. They’d told you he was busy with something that couldn’t wait, as always.

But tonight, you weren’t upset by his absence. After all, you’d grown used to it.

You ordered your drink from the bar and settled in, letting your eyes scan the room.

Lando’s empire wasn’t easy to navigate, and most of his men understood that. They knew who you were—Lando’s—and they respected the boundaries that came with that. No one dared to flirt, not without serious consequences.

But the key word was most.

And tonight, it was a rookie’s turn to make a fatal mistake.

You saw him the moment he walked in—a fresh face among the usual crowd of hardened men.

His name was Luca.

You didn’t know much about him, except that he had just been assigned to Lando’s inner circle.

He looked cocky, sure of himself, his expensive jacket and confident gait announcing that he was more than just a rookie to him.

As you took another sip from your glass, you noticed him glancing in your direction.

There was an arrogance in his eyes that made something in your stomach tighten. He was the kind of guy who walked into a room and immediately thought he had the world at his feet.

Luca’s eyes flicked to you again.

This time, the look was different.

It was bold.

Too bold.

You raised an eyebrow, internally rolling your eyes. There was always one rookie who thought they could play it like that.

He sauntered over to where you were sitting, his smile broad and completely unaware of the invisible warning signs radiating from every person in the room.

Every one of Lando’s men who saw him move in your direction stiffened, exchanging wary glances.

They didn’t have to speak to each other—they knew better.

Luca, on the other hand, was too full of himself to notice.

“Hey,” he said, standing a little too close to your table as he flashed you a confident smile.

“I don’t think we’ve met. Name’s Luca.”

You looked up at him from your seat, coolly assessing him.

“I know who you are,” you replied, your voice calm, almost disinterested.

Luca chuckled, his smile widening. “Oh yeah? I guess I’m pretty memorable.”

He took a seat across from you without waiting for an invitation.

“You’re not from around here, are you? You don’t look like the usual crowd. More like… well, you’re too pretty to be hanging out with this lot.”

The comment made you roll your eyes inwardly. You’d heard worse from men who were actually worth your time, but Luca’s arrogance was another level. He didn’t even seem to care that the men who worked for Lando—who worked with Lando—were now all watching, a few of them with uneasy glances.

But none of them intervened yet.

No one dared.

“I’m not some random girl, if that’s what you’re implying,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

You wanted to make it clear, but without outright insulting him just yet.

“Of course, of course,” Luca replied, his voice smooth as silk, but there was a certain smugness to it now.

“I’m just saying… maybe you could use some company. It’s not every day you see someone so stunning walking around this place. What do you say? We grab a drink and see where things go?”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes.

The audacity.

He was so naive, thinking you’d fall for some charming line. This wasn’t your first encounter with men like him—but it was definitely one of the more brazen.

But before you could respond, you felt it.

A shift in the air.

A dark weight that wasn’t there just moments ago.

The subtle sound of boots hitting the floor, slow, deliberate.

Luca didn’t notice.

He was too busy leaning in, clearly enjoying the small audience of Lando’s men who were now holding their breath.

The rest of the crew, including Marco, the long-time veteran of the group, exchanged glances.

They all knew exactly what was going on, and none of them were about to step in.

Not unless things went south.

Then, just as Luca’s hand moved a little too close to yours, his words still echoing in your ears, a voice you knew all too well interrupted.

“Luca.”

The sound of Lando’s voice sent an immediate wave of tension across the room.

The entire group of men froze, but Luca, for all his arrogance, didn’t seem to realize what was happening until Lando’s figure appeared in the doorway.

Lando stood there, eyes dark, sharp, like an animal sensing its prey. His gaze flicked to Luca, and then to you.

The moment he saw your face, the storm that had gathered around him seemed to calm, just slightly.

His expression softened, but his eyes were still cold, piercing through Luca like daggers.

“Lando,” Luca said, rising quickly, wiping his hands on his pants as if trying to look more composed.

“It’s nothing, I was just—”

“Don’t,” Lando interrupted, his voice low, deadly calm. “I know exactly what you were doing.”

The men in the room stiffened, each of them understanding the unspoken command in Lando’s tone.

Luca looked a little less confident now, though he was still trying to salvage his dignity.

“You’re new here,” Lando continued, taking slow steps toward the table.

The air felt thick now, heavier with every move he made.

“But you should’ve learned by now that you don’t flirt with what’s mine.”

Luca blinked, his smile fading as he seemed to realize the gravity of the situation.

“Lando, I didn’t know—” Luca began, but his voice trailed off as Lando’s glare intensified.

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Lando said, his voice dangerously soft. “You didn’t know.”

You watched as Luca’s face flushed, all the confidence he had been exuding evaporating in an instant.

Lando was not someone to be messed with, and everyone in this room had known that from the start.

Lando’s eyes didn’t leave Luca for a moment. He gestured to the door with a sharp, almost imperceptible motion.

“Get out,” he ordered, his voice icy. “And don’t come back until you’ve learned some respect.”

Luca’s face contorted into a mix of frustration and embarrassment, but he knew better than to argue.

He quickly mumbled a hasty apology and made a retreat toward the door, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the tension in the room lifted, but only slightly. Marco’s eyes met Lando’s, a quiet understanding passing between them. It was the kind of unspoken language only Lando’s men understood—the kind of trust that ran deeper than words.

Lando turned to face you, his gaze softening, the dangerous edge fading.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, exhaling the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “I’m fine.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, his eyes still a little too intense. “No one touches what’s mine, Y/N. Not even the rookies.”

You smiled faintly, letting your gaze soften. “I know.”

And for a moment, it was just the two of you in the room. All the chaos, all the power, all the danger seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the quiet hum of the bar and the unspoken promise in Lando’s eyes.

You were his. And in this world of shadows and blood, nothing was ever going to change that.

Thank you for reading!

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [MAYDAY] ❞

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: you've never seen hotchner so mad at you. but maybe it's a good thing. content warnings: power imbalance. age-gap. suggestive. most of these are more of a if you squint kind of deal. word count: 800+ a/n: not the best but i'm not gonna keep working on it whateverrrrr

You fucked up and you knew it, a terrible mistake, a rookie mistake at that. Prematurely telling a victim's family the squad had found and detained the Unsub and then having to deal with a father getting into the precinct gun in hand when it was leaked said unsub was getting released without any charges.

Containing him took all of your strength and Derek's help, but having to admit to Hotch's angry face, brows furrowed, that you were the reason that it happened... That was soul crushing. Your legs had been trembling from the moment he asked, his we'll talk later in a tone you've never heard directed at you doing nothing to help your nerves.

The ride back to the hotel after the actual Unsub was captured was a quiet one, so quiet you almost think you're off the hook. Aaron looks almost serene while driving, but you should've known better, you should've known he was just holding off.

The minute his hand gripped your wrist and followed you into your room you knew it though, he really wasn't the type to say something and not follow up on it.

"What were you thinking!?" That's probably the first time he raises his voice at you and your heart sank. What were you thinking? On how to bring some comfort to the family. So you weren't really thinking, not the way that you should have. You don't reply, it makes his eyes darken even more, as if you not trying to defend yourself made it worse. "Innocent lives were almost lost today because of your lack of professionalism!"

Lack of professionalism? Supposed to be a nicer way to tell it was because of your big mouth, but it somehow made you feel worse. You were a good agent, you did a good job. You wouldn't have been transferred there two years prior if that wasn't true. He was making you feel small, when usually working by his side made you feel like a superhero of some sort.

"I'm sorry, Hotchner, I don't know what else you want me to say." Your voice is much lower than his, your arms are crossed in front of your chest as you rub your hands on them, trying to find some sort of comfort in yourself as you dealt with the disappointment coming from the man you secretly harbored only the sweetest of feelings for.

He notices it of course, Aaron always notices the small ways your body shows what you're feeling, so his hands go through his hair and he's frustrated so he huffs loudly and he should just drop it off, he knows it, but you're his soft spot and he has to remind himself of that to avoid letting you slip up, you have too much potential to let it go to waste. "Being sorry doesn't save lives."

"I know that I—"

"You have to follow protocol." The way he interrupts you makes your eyes water and you know soon enough you're going to be a sobbing mess if he doesn't stop talking. You're not even a crier, so that's about to become much more humiliating if it happens in front of him. "They exist for a reason, you can't just do whatever you want, especially if it's something st—" it is your time to interrupt him.

But with a kiss.

Your arms are dropped to your sides, your feet slightly tipped to reach his lips with yours in a act of courage, yes, but mostly despair.

He could not see you cry. Seeing you mess up so bad was enough. You couldn't let him think you couldn't handle the job, the scolding.

And that was definitely not your brightest idea, but the way he doesn't even flinch before kissing you back with much more hunger than yourself, his right hand to your throat and the left pulling your waist shows you that maybe you should've done this much earlier.

You melt into his arms and you can feel every muscle on his body tense up when your hands grab onto his waist. His lips only leave yours when he can sense your trouble breathing, but Aaron doesn't do anything else that could separate you two, his hands stay glued to you, his eyes almost hypnotized by yours as you work on catching your breath.

"You're really terrible following rules, huh?" His mockery is followed by his teeth pulling on your lower lip ever so softly, but it still earns him a quick moan from you.

"Yeah but..." You stop yourself to gather just a bit more of courage before closing in on him, your lips brushing against his face as you got closer to his ear, your voice a whisper only, as if it made your following teasing less wrong. "I'm very good at following orders."

"I'll be the judge of that."

[angelwhisp3rs]

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒 obsession

Pairing: ID!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Training the rookies was a pain until he met her. His sweetest new obsession, he wouln't stop till he was buried deep inside her.

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap (not too much! i imagined leon being 37 and the reader being 23-25, so everyone is legal and consenting! Its not his age in ID but i use it only bc of the character background), p in v, eating out, riding, breeding kink, leon is obsessed!, a small housewife kink.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ on repeat: exo - obsession

Notes: Got too excited and posted without proofreading it! If i missed anything, please let me know so i can correct it! Also, when will tumblr make a pastel pink theme for the dashboard? I hate that everything we have is either a sad/gloomy hipster or raging gothic theme.

From all his years working at the D.S.O, Leon was stressed pretty much all the time, never catching a break, too exhausted. That showed on the increasing wrinkles forming from his frowns, and the occasional white hair that appeared on top of his head. In his non-existent breaks, he had another thing on his belt: training the new agents.

At first, it was a pain in the ass, watching those morons do the same mistake over and over, it really made Leon think it was getting too easy to be a D.S.O agent. Some repeated the same mistakes over and over again, and because of it, Leon frequently lost his patience, soon getting known as a hardass. 

As time went by, he began losing hope for the future of the department, until she came through. Pretty body, voice as soothing as a canary and delicious lips that called for him. And the best thing was that she was better than all of these morons, throwing down even the experienced rookies.

Since Ada, Leon didn’t know what it was like to be this obsessed with a woman. He wanted to know her next step, have her by his side all the time, know how her soft skin feels underneath his rough fingertips. He dreamed of her, and caught himself checking her out more than he should. Chris always teased him in private, telling him “his star student is making him turn back to his twenties”. God, they had a small age gap, but thinking about it only made his cock throb. Maybe dealing with rookies made his mind turn him back to his twenties.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

As their “graduation” got closer in time, all the new agents began training more, but none were like her. She came in first and left after all of them, always using the training gym by herself the most she could. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Leon offered private training, becoming a private tutor to her.

Instead of making things easy, it just caused him to become even more addicted to her - he now knew her thoughts, her quirks and her perspectives. As they spent more and more time together, it was clear that she found him attractive too - he knew he was still successful with women, after all (even if he was more dumped than anything). Leon had cemented in his mind that he needed her, and now he just needed to find a way to approach her.

She will be all his.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

One of the nights, he had to spend in his office reading and filing boring documents, Leon heard a gentle knock on his door. “Come  in” he simply answered, and to his surprise - and excitement, it was his little star. She entered his office, and her usual sparkly eyes were dull, the poor thing was too tired, working herself too much.

“What happened, rookie? You look exhausted. Working too much to bring me down?” Leon said with a smirk

“Ha, you wish, sir.” Oh, how that term made his pants tighten. “I just came for help, I don’t know. I’ve been focusing on sharpening my skills for the admission test, but I don’t know…” she said unsure

“Hey, don’t tell the rest, but you’re the only one that I would bet on getting in” he reassured her, standing up and taking a seat beside her in his couch “You’re too much in your head, agent”

“I know, I just can’t turn it off…” she whined, making Leon think how she would sound if he made her cum around his cock 

That 's it. That was Leon’s chance to get his favorite student. He put a hand on her thigh, not too close to her precious cunt and said quietly to her “It’s alright, sweetheart… I can help you, if you want”

She knew where this was going, and it turned her on more than she thought. Feigning innocence, she pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, nodding “But… How, sir?” and looked at his lips

Leon smiled, caressing her jaw “let me fill your mind, rookie. Why don’t you sit at my desk, hm?” 

She stood up and slowly went to his desk, sitting on it and letting her head fall to the side, as if to question him “what’s next?” with her body language. Leon follows her, standing between her legs and letting his hands caress the outer side of her thighs. His face lowers to her neck, his kisses and his stubble causing a warm sensation to run through her skin. A soft gasp left her lips, her hands caressing the back of his head.

Feeling him smirk against her skin, he kept placing slow and gentle kisses, adding some nibbles on the mix “That’s what my best student needs, right? A real man to touch her”

He lays her on his desk, pushing his papers aside, pulling her hips into his - his cock adding a nice weight to her sensitive wetness. He slowly pushed her shirt up, watching her beauty for a moment “You’re perfect, baby”. As he whispered the praise, her cheeks blushed more, a soft giggle leaving her lips. He finally kissed her lips and both were hungry for each other, to quench the thirst they had been accumulating after months. 

Leon swiftly undoes her bra, not wasting any time and circling his tongue around her nipples, sucking and lightly nibbling it. Underneath him, her breath quickens, as she whines freely as he teased her. Trying to ease their ache, Leon grinds their centers together, his cock so hard that his zipper presses against his member.

Soon, he removed her pants, kissing as her skin showed - inch by inch. Again, his stubble creates goosebumps in her legs, as he worshiped her body - she deserved it, after all, he wanted to make her addicted to him and his taste. Watching her panties so drenched as they were glued to her pussy, he couldn't help but nuzzle into her bundle of nerves, causing a gentle jump on her. He kissed and licked the wet spot, as if trying to eat her up. 

“F-fuck, please take them off, sir” she whined, not even realizing that she kept the term. Leon, deciding that he wasn’t in a teasing mood, guided the clothing down, letting his pretty star all spread on his desk - his to take, to tease, to fuck, to breed. 

“Shit, baby girl, you are so wet for your teacher… you wanted me to take you, right? You wanted me to go crazy and drench my face with you. huh?” He teased her as he got on his knees, aligning his face against her cunt. She was so red, puffy and wet, not even the most delicious candy could compare to her.

His tongue tasted her at first with kitten licks, causing a loud moan to rip from her mouth. “Keep quiet, sweetheart. We don’t want anyone coming here and seeing you spread out like a needy slut, right?” at his comment, and as if teasing her, he finally sucked and rolled his tongue around her clit, letting his index finger circle her wet entrance. Almost as if she was distressed, she cupped her mouth with her hand, rolling her eyes back at the pleasure. 

Pushing his finger forward, slowly, until he's entirely inside her, he kept eating her out with gusto, as if he was a starved man. Soon, what was one finger turned into two, her juices were flowing through his palm as he began to be more desperate for her - but he wouldn’t stop till she let him taste her entirely. “It feels good, doesn’t it, my doll? I’m the only man and only one for you, gonna make sure to keep this pussy satisfied till I die”.

His fingers and mouth worked more ferociously, pussy drunk wasn’t even close to describe how he was feeling.On the other end, she had tears in her eyes as one hand didn’t leave her mouth as the other one tugged his hair hard, making him moan against her drenched cunt. “S-sir, o-oh g-god…need to c-cum!” she pleased, looking down at him with glazed eyes.

“Do it, baby girl, give it to me” he ushered her, maintaining the pace till she finally coated his fingers, tongue and mouth with her essence. As her ‘little death’ came, she felt as if fireworks erupted inside her mind - none of her exams daring to creep up on her mind.

He praised and marked her thighs as she came down from her high. The girl pulled Leon into a passionate kiss, smiling in contentment, reaching cloud 9000. Pulling away, she whispered against his lips “Let me repay you, Leon. Wanna make you feel just as good”

“Not today, doll.” He whispered, sitting back in his chair and pulling his pants and underwear down, patting his lap “I know how to help you even further”, he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Like an excited bunny, she hopped off his desk and jumped into his lap, resuming her kisses on his mouth - casually descending into his jaw and neck, enjoying the pleased hums that he lets out. He palmed her ass and firmly grabbed it, giving some gentle smacks as she had his fun with him. To Leon, in all of his life, that was his happiest moment: having his pretty princess on his lap, all naked, hypnotized in kissing and feeling him up. 

“Go ahead, baby, let me finally empty your mind and use you” he calmly ordered her, caressing her cheeks adoringly. Soon, she positioned herself and slowly sat down on his cock, rolling her eyes back and holding into his chair behind him. 

“S-so b-big…” she moaned, her head falling into his shoulders as the girl swallowed all of him. She was so tight, wet and perfect, Leon almost came deep in her cunt just by her inserting him. His head got dizzy for a moment, his hold on her ass tightening, as he grunted and pressed his eyes closed. 

Dedicatedly, she began jumping up and down on his cock, their skin slapping as the woman looked directly into his eyes. If anyone saw them at that moment, they would attest that both had heart in their eyes. her tits jumped up and down in front of him, making his tongue and fingers play with them as the couple lost their minds in pleasure.

“Good job, doll… jumping on my cock like the good girl you are… it’s all for you, always for you” he said rambling in pleasure,  busying his mouth to tell her praises and roll her sensitive nipples on his tongue, as her cunt drenched his cock, causing a white ring at the base.

Holding tightly into the back of his chair, her hips worked even faster on him, making Leon moan more frequently in pleasure, slapping her ass, leaving behind his handprints on her pretty skin. His head falls back as he watches the goddess in front of him taking what's hers and milking his cock into her hungry pussy. He would make sure that she passed her admission check, so every end of shift he would breed her cunt, till she is finally all of his - the mother of his children, his pretty wife. But that’s a talk for later.

After some minutes pass, Leon takes over and thrusts from below, making her body turn into his own ragdoll, her moans flowing freely into his mouth. Some minutes passed, and both were on the brink of their orgasm, so close to reaching their true paradise “Will you let me fill you, doll? Make your womb so full of me, gonna make you get home with me drenching on your legs” he taunted her.

Not handling much more teasing, and his words serving as a catalyst to her peak, she nods and coats his cock with her sweet arousal, biting down on his shoulder to drown out her sounds. Her roughness and the new tight hold on his cock makes him spill into her gummy walls, emptying himself. Finally, he marked her as his. His doll, his love, his property.

Both were coming down from their highs, trying to control their breathing, letting their heartbeat slow down. He caressed her hair, kissing her cheeks and nuzzling their noses together, all smiles. “So, did I help?” he asked jokingly.

“Didn’t even know why I came here” she answers teasingly.

From now on, Leon would never be exhausted for the wrong reasons ever again.

[krirebr]

Thanksgiving has always been… a little difficult with your family, but whose isn’t? You tried warning Curtis about how terrible they could be, but he didn’t think it was this bad. Year after year, they ask you if you’re bringing a special someone, giving fake sympathetic smiles when you say ‘no’ yet again. So they stopped asking, until you showed up with this beefcake on your arm this year. And of course you cousin gets up to instantly tear you apart in front of him, like she always does because how dare someone have something better than her. Jealous priss. But you’re not gonna let her get away with it. Not this time. And as soon as you stand up to her, Curtis is so proud to be with someone so strong, giving you this look, an admiring smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, from his spot next to you at the table.

Oh Essie, this prompt tapped into some extended family stuff for me. It's been many years since I've had to do the whole big family holiday thing, and I'll be honest, I don't miss it.

I hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Let Us Eat Quickly

Pairing: Curtis Everett x demisexual demiromantic female reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: friendly but toxic family, probably a little aphobia, amatonormativity out the wazoo, explicit language All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Masterlist

A/N: Big thanks to @stellar-solar-flare who helped me gut check this and @darsynia who poured through so much Thanksgiving poetry to help me settle on a title. It comes from Home for Thanksgiving by Linda Pastan

You stood at the door, Curtis beside you with his hand on your back. “It’s not too late to turn around,” you mumbled to him.

He just chuckled good-naturedly. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one, meeting your family for the first time. Relax, I know how families can be. It’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you think,” you said under your breath, then pasted on a smile as the door opened to reveal your aunt.

She immediately threw her arms around you. “Oh my god! It’s been so long!” She pulled back and then looked at Curtis, her eyes widening. “Holy smokes, he really does exist! When your mom told me you were bringing someone, I couldn’t believe it. Figured it had to be a figment of her imagination. But look at him! He’s real!”

You took a deep breath. “Uh, yeah. This is Curtis. Curtis, this is my Aunt Jan.”

Curtis reached out to shake her hand, a completely bewildered expression on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jan pulled him into a hug instead. “So nice to meet you, honey! You don’t know just how much of a miracle you are!” Once she let him go, she ushered you both inside. She called into the house, letting everyone know you were there. “And she’s brought her real-life boyfriend!”

“What the fuck?” Curtis mumbled.

You squeezed his hand. “That’s just how she is,” you whispered.

You moved through the house, greeting various aunts, uncles, and cousins, weathering the over-the-top shock from all of them. You could tell Curtis was getting irritated, so you tried rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand in soothing circles. You finally reached the den and found who you’d been searching for. 

Your dad leapt up from the couch excitedly to wrap you in a big hug. “Hi honey,” he said. Then, low enough for only the two of you to hear, “You should have turned around when you had the chance.”

“Yeah, well, this idiot,” you affectionately gestured to Curtis, “really wanted to meet my family.”

Your dad shook his head with a chuckle, “Rookie mistake,” he said, then pulled Curtis into an equally big hug. It’d never not make you so warm inside, just how much your dad loved Curtis. 

Once he’d been let go, Curtis just sort of gaped at the two of you sheepishly. “I’m not sure I knew what I was walking into,” he muttered. 

“Rookie mistake,” your dad said, again, before sitting back down. “Your mom is in the kitchen.”

You made your way there, finding her cooking away with Jan and the rest of her sisters. Just like your dad, she was thrilled to see Curtis. It made your heart swell.

A few of your aunts continued to make “good-natured” comments on what a surprise and relief it was that you’d finally brought someone. You nodded through it, barely listening, before tugging Curtis behind you to go find your grandma. 

He stopped you as soon as you were in the hallway. “Babe, do they not know you’re demi?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “God, no! Can you imagine? It’d take forever to explain it, and then when I was done, I’d just get a lot of ‘Isn’t that how everyone is?’ while still giving me all of this bullshit. It’d be a waste of breath.” Curtis did not look happy about that, so you grabbed his hand. “Hey, all of the people I actually care about know. That’s enough for me. These are just people I have to see once a year because of an accident of birth. They don’t get to know all of me.” He seemed to relax a little at that and you smiled. “All right, let’s go find Grandma. Get ready. She’s gonna say all sorts of shit that’s gonna make you really uncomfortable.”

Sure enough, the first thing your grandma said to Curtis was, “I’ve been praying a nice young man would come into her life. She’s been so lonely for so long.” You turned your head away as you rolled your eyes, hard. But luckily you looked back in time to see the shocked look on his face when she said she sure did hope she didn’t die before she got to see you get married. You tried so hard not to laugh, that you sent yourself into a coughing fit.

Extracting yourself with a chipper, “Ok, grandma! We’ll see you at dinner!” you took Curtis into the backyard to kill time before food.

Sitting on the decorative retaining wall, Curtis threaded his fingers through yours. “I can see why your sister doesn’t come to these things.”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed. “She has to deal with all that and go hungry. These people have no idea how to cook for a vegetarian. They put chicken broth in the mashed potatoes!”

He just stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re too nice to them.”

You took a step closer, fully in his space, and shrugged. “They just– They can’t conceive of a life experience outside of their own. They all got married in their early twenties and had kids right away. The traditional way works for them, so why wouldn’t it work for everyone else? They don’t really know what to do with someone with different priorities, different feelings, and attractions. It’s how it’s always been. I’m used to it. I mostly just think it’s funny now.”

He wrapped you in his arms so that you could feel his warmth in the crisp fall weather. “I hate that you’ve had to get used to this.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “You make things better,” you said softly. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

You stayed like that for several moments before your phone buzzed with a text from your dad, letting you know that dinner was ready. 

You both settled down at the far end of the table, about to start filling your plates when your heavily pregnant cousin Kat took the seat across from you. “Oh, sunovabitch,” you muttered under your breath, causing Curtis to look concerned. 

Before you could reassure him, Kat got both of your attention. “Oh my gosh, it’s been such a long time! I’m so glad you could come!” Then she turned to the man next to you. “And you must be Curtis! You’re all anyone can talk about. I’m Kat, her favorite cousin.” Before Curtis could respond, she continued. “So tell me, ‘cause I’m dying to know, how exactly did she get you here?”

Curtis looked at you, confused, then raised an eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

“Well, she’s just never brought anyone before. Not ever. And then when she finally does, it’s someone who looks like you?? My theory is she hired you off of Craig’s List. That or blackmail.” And then she laughed, in that very specific way that was just friendly enough that she could claim she was only joking. You knew it well. She’d been doing it for over thirty years.

You felt Curtis stiffen next to you, One look at him told you he was itching to respond, his mouth beginning to open, but you knew Kat. You knew she was just getting started and whatever response would just feed into whatever she wanted. So you covered his hand with yours in what you hoped was a soothing manner to hopefully stop him.

You caught Kat’s eye and she smirked, but then it faltered when you matched it with one of your own. “Actually, Kat,” you said, so casually, “I also have something I’ve been wondering. Is it the pregnancy hormones that have made you so unpleasant or have you always been this way? Since I genuinely can’t remember the last time you weren’t pregnant, I thought I’d ask.”

She gaped at you for a moment, as you looked at her calmly, patiently waiting for an answer. You didn’t need to look at Curtis to know that he was trying to hide a grin. Across from you, Kat finally found her words, “How dare–”

“I’m sorry,” you cut her off, “was that invasive? Rude? I should probably mind my own damn business, huh?”

“I–” she started again, but you weren’t done yet.

“Someday, I hope you’ll figure out that there are so many ways to be happy, not just one prescribed path. And hopefully, you’ll find whatever you’re looking for on the path you’ve chosen.”

There was a long beat of silence. Then, quietly, her eyes a little wide, she said, “I have. I’m happy.” There was a note in her voice, you thought, that sounded a little like she was trying to convince herself as much as you.

“Good,” you nodded, decisively, “I’m glad. I’m happy too. I was happy before Curtis and I’m happy now.” Without waiting for a response, you turned fully to Curtis beside you. He was beaming at you, pride just oozing out of him, his eyes sparkling. You smiled too, the biggest since you’d gotten there. “Do you want some stuffing?” you asked him, completely shutting down the previous conversation. “Aunt Jan’s stuffing is really good.”

Tag List

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[sunnie-angel]

Part 6: The Mistake

part 5 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason flees the aftermath of your night together

tags: angst, jason todd’s usual poor self esteem issues, off screen violence

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 1.1k

Jason is freaking the fuck out. He’s literally just fucked up the one bright spot in his life and he has no idea how to fix this. His first mistake was beating that masked asshole up instead of quietly letting him rob the two of you. He’s got a civilian identity for a reason and he’d blown it all to hell because he didn’t like the way that fuckhead had looked at you. The way his gun had swung from Jason to you when you were struggling with the clasp of your necklace. All he had known in that moment was that there was a couple in an alleyway, a man with a gun, and a pretty pearl necklace. The only thing missing was a little boy to watch on in horror.

His second mistake was taking you home. It was a stupid, rookie mistake, the kind he hadn’t made even as Robin. He had panicked at your blank stare and violent shivering, and your home had only been the next building over. Of course he had known the code to your building. Of course he had known which apartment was yours. He’s spent enough time staring longingly through it’s window. Jason just hadn’t expected your terror to abate long enough to realize just how strange the whole situation was. 

His next mistake had been kissing you back. Scratch that, it had been blurting out the truth of his identity. Revealing to you of all people that Jason Todd is nothing more than an ill fitting suit of clothes for the Red Hood to move through the world in. He’d been so fucking stupid. There’s going to be repercussions for that. There’s going to be repercussions for all of his mistakes. He should have known this wouldn’t work, that he wasn’t fashioned for any life but violence. 

Jason curses, fingers angrily crushing the cigarette held between them. The wind is cold, cutting across the rooftop and digging its fingers under the collar of his shirt. He lets it, embracing the grounding sting of the cold. His position on the roof of the building opposite yours and has a perfect vantage point of your window. You still lie in bed, curled around the shape of his missing body. He shouldn’t have kissed you. The blanket slips off your shoulder as you turn in your sleep and Jason has to swallow through a suddenly dry throat. If he closes his eyes, he can still taste you. Feel the warmth of you under him, the tight vice of you around him. Jason savours the memory of last night because it’s the only time he’s going to let it happen. He should have pushed you away because he’d known better. But you had asked, and Jason had known exactly what it felt like when your skin got too tight and you can barely think except to make that feeling stop.  So he had kissed you again and been lost. 

You start to stir, sleep weighing your limbs down. Jason’s never seen anything more beautiful. You stretch an arm out, reaching out for something that isn’t there.  He realizes who you’re looking for a moment before you freeze. Jason can’t hear you, not from up here, but he swears he hears you call his name anyway. The answering silence of your apartment must echo because it rings in his ears too. Your shoulders tense and then start shaking, arms coming to wrap around your knees. The sight sends a curl of something awful and acidic down his throat. 

In his pocket, his phone starts to vibrate. His knuckles go white. It stops vibrating. He manages one heavy sigh before it starts buzzing again. He pulls it out but lets it go to voicemail anyway. Leaving was another mistake too, and he’s not sure he’s ready yet to face up to everything he’s done wrong. 

“Jason? Look, it’s me,” your voice wobbles and he hates the way his name sounds. “ Like I know we didn’t make any promises, or talk about things at all really. But I woke up and... and you weren’t there.  You’re not here.” There’s a heavy breath on the line. "Can you– can you just call me back? Please? 'M not gonna beg, but can we just talk? Or, or something. Is this about the Red Hood thing? ‘Cause I’m not gonna tell, God who would I even tell without getting myself arrested too? Just... Jesus what the fuck Jason? Because I thought– I thought we were actually friends at least. Just, what the fuck was that.” 

The recording ends abruptly and Jason watches you throw your phone onto the bed. This anger, this frustration feels different. More private. There’s already a sickness lurking in his gut, he doesn’t need to add to it by intruding on this moment. He leaves that rooftop and all it’s flavours of betrayal behind him. He’s fucked up enough in the past 24 hours to know that this would be another mistake. 

The thing is, Jason doesn’t know if this is fixable. If he is fixable. He refuses to settle you with the burdens of him because one day it’ll drive you away. He knows that he won’t survive breaking you but watching you walk away one day will break him. So he’ll destroy his own heart now, instead of letting the inevitable happen. He can live with setting this tender thing between you on fire if it means he gets to keep you. If he’ll never have to wait for the day you’ll discover the truth of him and leave with disgust in your eyes. No, better to make the break early before he becomes too addicted to your approval. So he’ll swallow down the words he wants to say until he chokes on them. He’ll– he’ll make it up to you in any way he can, but this, this is the one thing he can’t give you.

Jason doesn’t answer your voicemail for another day. He needs every minute of that time to convince himself of what he knows needs to do. It hurts. If his heart wasn’t kept artificially beating by whatever toxic sludge the Lazarus Pit was made of, he’s sure his heart would have stopped from longing at least five times over. It becomes a little easier to remember the rules and why he’s put them in place when he’s standing in a warehouse full of dead bodies and staring down the disappointed faces of his former family. Maybe he went a little overboard, let the heart sickness in him bleed out onto his fists, but these were men who were going to die anyway. Had to die or else Black Mask wouldn’t get the warning about encroaching on his territory. There’s new stakes, keeping those under his protection safe, because now you’re one of his in so many ways.  

Time is ticking away and the longer he leaves things unsettled, the slimmer his chances of having any part of you at all. He clears his throat and picks up the phone.

part 7

[ranunculussy]

enigma | part 05.

sunday, monday

ꕥ part 01. | part 02. | part 03. | part 04. ꕥ pair: Spencer Reid × BAU!fem!reader ꕥ warnings/tags: canon-typical violence, mentions of butchering, mentions of dead women (obviously), swearing, somewhat oblivious Reid and reader, age gap, moderately jealous Spencer, slow-burn, mutual pining, rivals to lovers, english isn't my first language so bear with me pls, idk about other warnings ꕥ word count: ~3.5k ꕥ summary: Spencer can't quite figure you, his rival out and this annoys him more than it should [this fanfic is also available on AO3 with the same title and username]

“Jello?” was the first thing you asked when you gained consciousness a few hours later in the sterile, blindingly white hospital room. The vibrant red gelatine dessert stared back at you from the bedside table. It was almost strange, how unusually appetising it looked.

“Spence left it for you. He said this is the best part of waking up from surgery.” JJ’s answer came from your left side, where the chairs got set up for the visitors. You slowly turned towards the voice while you pulled yourself into a sitting position, causing you to let out a painful groan. Next to the beautiful, blonde agent, there was her other half, the equally breathtaking Emily Prentiss.

“Hi, guys.”

“How are you feeling?” asked the brunette. Now, that you were awake, both dragged their chairs right next to your bed.

“Like I got hit by a cement mixer which then shunted and hit me again.”

While the others chuckled at your response, you decided to reach for the sweet dessert. You smiled at Reid’s gesture. You always noticed how caring he was towards the whole team, even towards you, in his own special way. And you really appreciated this trait of him. He handled you like you handled him. With mutual respect and consideration. Maybe this is what made your rivalry manageable. You strived to be better than the other, you enjoyed the challenge and the rush that your professional disagreements gave you but never crossed that particular line.

“You know that you are extremely lucky, right?” Jennifer’s voice was filled with concern. She reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. You noticed quite early on that she and Penelope were big on physical contact as a form of showing affection. It didn’t bother you, but you never initiated it either.

“Yep, I realised it right there. How angry is the big boss? And how are the others? How did the case end?” you bombarded them with questions.

It was exactly as you said. The minute you heard the other person collapsing, you concluded that the fact that you were still alive was a literal miracle. First things first, you made a mistake. You should’ve pushed the door in from the side, shielding yourself with the wall and waiting for a reaction, but you didn’t. You were too eager and impatient. The thought of losing hundreds of people made you careless, even reckless.

As if life was playing some prank on you before any of your teammates could give you an answer, a doctor and a nurse entered the room to check up on you. You were slightly annoyed, but you tried to hide it as much as possible and hoped that it only seemed as if you were tired. You knew exactly that they were there for you and not against you, but those few, anxiously spent minutes without solace were excruciating.

“Everyone is safe. We managed to reach the trucks before they could get to the airport, and we found all the victims safe and sound. And Hotch is more worried than angry.” went over all your questions JJ after the doctor made sure you were fine and left you to rest.

“Okay, that’s good,” you let out a sigh. You didn’t even notice that you were holding back your breath up until now. “Another question. Was the guy whom I shot a rookie?”

“Oh no, he was a former marine. He was discharged dishonourably a few years ago for sexual misconduct.” Emily’s eye-roll was a habit, her irises full of judgement and condescension. It was obvious that even without knowing the man personally, she was disgusted by him.

“Interesting…” you mumbled as you stared into your sheets, slowly eating the dessert. Now you really had no idea how you may be still alive. Why weren’t you shot in the head? Or the chest? Or literally, anywhere that’s lethal?

“Maybe it was an order? To keep any intruder alive so later they could interrogate them.” as if your best friend saw the rattling train of your thoughts, she shared her idea.

“Yeah, you might be right.”

You tried not to think hard about the what-ifs. It had no use. You were alive and that’s what mattered. But if you wanted to be honest, it was scary, how you, being there in the hospital bed which was warmed up by the heat of your body, instead of at the cold and rigid mortuary was a matter of uncontrollable luck or fate.

×××

A week went by, and you were back in the bullpen of the BAU. You could’ve had another week of paid leave but by the end of the first one, you were feeling antsy and somewhat useless. Even if Penelope called you every day and made sure you were feeling okay, you couldn’t help but miss the team.

One of your favourite phenomena was those few, slow, and quiet minutes that lingered around the spacious area before every briefing. It was such a mundane thing but felt special, possibly because it didn’t really belong to your workplace, which could be described as anything but calm.

That Monday morning when you arrived early, only the soft buzzing noise of the coffee machine indicated that somebody was already there. As you quickly scanned the desks of your colleagues, you noticed the brown satchel bag belonging to the genius. On any other day, you might have become a bit annoyed but not today. You were thrilled that it was only the two of you, making what you were about to do less awkward.

After you hurriedly placed your stuff down on your office chair, you grabbed a neatly sealed peanut-coloured envelope from your bag and headed towards the breakroom, from where you could hear the monotone noise.

“Hey,” you greeted the other with a gawky wave. You couldn’t decide how close, or far you should stand from him, and on top of that, all of your pre-planned lines seemed to have flown out of the window at the very moment you saw him. He wore a black button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbow and a precisely tied burgundy necktie. He was stirring the almost diabolical amount of sugar in his hot cup of coffee. As he leaned at the counter, he looked… effortlessly fine. Annoying, really.

“Y/N?” he couldn’t conceal how surprised he was to see you so soon. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t bear the idea of giving you more advantage to beat me in solved cases than one week. The trafficking one is obviously mine, so you know… I gave you a few days to try catching up, but this is the best I can do.” you shrugged as your lips stretched into a sly grin. This wasn’t your original plan. But acting like this was almost like a defence mechanism for you when you didn’t know what to do or say exactly.

“How generous of you.” He wanted to hide his smile that he couldn’t suppress. In fact, he didn’t even notice it forming, the expression was like an instinct. He took a sip of the sweet drink instead while he also slid an already-made cup towards you.

“On a completely different topic…” you were awkwardly beating around the bush, not being able to look him in the eyes or look at his face at all.  “Here. This is for you.”

With his signature furrowed eyebrows, he lowered his gaze to your hand. There was a small, pale brown paper container with some bumps on it. He was rendered speechless. This morning was anything but usual or ordinary. Curiosity got the better of him, so he slowly moved his right hand to reach for the item. As he took it from you, his delicate fingertips brushed against your skin for a few milliseconds, causing a slight tenseness to spread around your body.

“It’s nothing big, I just wanted to thank you for being there the other day and helping with… You know. Me, not bleeding out.” you started to ramble so you could ignore the feeling of anxiety as he was opening the gift you got for him. Also, you always did this when you felt flustered. Soon, with a cheerful clinking sound, a silver and blue keychain fell out of the thin bag, right into his huge palms. Before he could react in any way, nervousness took over you and you continued talking at the speed of light, almost as if you were stating facts regarding a case. “At first, I was thinking about giving the usual things like chocolate, wine or some gift basket, but then I remembered that Pen once told me how much you liked Doctor Who, so I thought it’d be more meaningful or have more use to give something related to what you like. I got it from the official store, it has a full battery, warranty and everything. According to the webpage, it’s a vintage release. It’s not too flashy or vibrant so it’d match your things, and it’s basically a soundboard, which seems fun.”

At this point, it almost seemed like you were debating against him, like you did when your professional opinions differentiated. Overthinking kicked in and the urge to explain yourself felt nearly overwhelming. He is a huge fan of the franchise, what if he already has this? Or what if he finds it childish? And what if he automatically finds me childish because of this? Damn, maybe I should’ve just bled out, it’d be easier now.

“If you don’t like it, feel free to throw it out or anything like that. But thank you again for keeping me company and sorry for literally bleeding all over you. And for the Jello. Thank you for that too.” You didn’t even let him say a single word or thank you properly, you just quickly sputtered a half-assed excuse and left him there. You only reached the door of the break room when you spun around your heels, hurried back to the counter, grabbed the cup of coffee he made for you and left, this time for definitively.

Astonishment. Utter and undeniable astonishment was what Spencer felt. You got him a gift, and not just any gift but something related to him. Even if your relationship wasn’t pristine, you were willing to put energy into looking for something he’d like. With his thumb, he carefully caressed the soft buttons and the cold telephone booth icon at the top of the keychain.

With uncertain words stuck in his throat, his silent gaze followed you back to your desk. It might seem like he couldn’t say anything because of your constant talking but in reality, he found himself in one of those sporadic moments when he had no idea what to say. He had no idea what you would’ve appreciated the most. Should he be serious or playful? Should he simply thank you or try lightening the mood with an unserious response? When it came to you, he had no idea what the best move would be. To quote an exceptional someone in Spencer’s life, ‘Just like that, an IQ of 187, slashed to 60’.

However, he still couldn’t deny the lingering warm, tingling feeling slowly spreading in his chest. Recently, this occurred more and more frequently and seemed to pass by less and less quickly.

A quarter hour later other members of the team started to appear. First, it was Emily, who had the look of despair splashed all over her face.

“Was your weekend this bad?” you asked while you chuckled slightly as she put her stuff down next to your table.

“Oh, even worse,” she said after a dramatic sigh. “I give a chance to date again and what do I get? A textbook alpha male obsessing over crypto and how he’s on a straight path to becoming a self-made millionaire. The only topic he was interested in was himself. It was awkward and I spent the rest of my free time with Sergio and some cheap wine.”

“I mean, the last part sounds great,” you said as a quick memory filled your brain about you, cosying up with your little furballs, wine and the series you’re currently fixated on. Those moments felt like heaven on earth. “But honestly, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry ‘bout what, babygirl?” Derek curiously inserted himself into your conversation. He moved silently, none of you have noticed that he too arrived at work. Possibly because that morning Penelope wasn’t with him. He leaned on the surface of your dirty white desk. “More importantly, what the hell are you doing here?”

You quickly spun in your office chair and looked up at him with a bright smile. It was weird, how this place was able to lift your mood so quickly. But this was a lie, wasn’t it? The place itself had nothing to do with it, it was the precious people who filled it with an indescribable warmth.

“Don’t act like you weren’t back in the office literally a few days after your shoulder got put back where it belongs, Chocolate Thunder.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how you used one of the HR-alluring nicknames Garcia gave him.

“Touché.”

You three got so enthralled in a light-hearted conversation filled with the usual unharmful bickering that you failed to notice how the curly-haired doctor emerged from the breakroom, walked to his stuff and hustled with something in silence. He occasionally listened to what you were talking about but didn’t want to draw attention. Only when he walked into the briefing room you caught sight of something shiny hanging at the side of his satchel bag. The keychain.

The meeting about the newest, rather gruesome case neared its end. You couldn’t help but occasionally glance at the small accessory decorating the brown leather. It made you happy, relieved and a tiny bit proud too. You were readying yourself to the fact that he threw it out, so seeing it not only kept but worn was more than a pleasant surprise. While you were preoccupied with the gift, he was discreetly looking for your reaction. Was he simply curious, or was he hoping to see something specific? And more importantly, upon seeing a small but definitively present smile spread across your face, why did his heartbeat slightly quicken?

“Alright, wheels up in 30.” Hotchner concluded the briefing with his signature line and was the first to leave the room.

“Y/N, you coming with us?” JJ’s voice pulled both of you out of your headspaces, which was weirdly related to each other. Before you could answer – and probably tell a white lie, the man in front of you shook his head.

“She hasn’t been cleared to fly yet.” He said, leaning back in his chair, staring right into your eyes.

“How the fuck…?” you mumbled originally to yourself, but it was audible enough for everyone.

“You’re predictable.” Reid shrugged with an infuriating smile on his smug face. He enjoyed getting a reaction out of you way too much. To be completely transparent, he’s been enjoying it ever since you started working there. He always carefully noted all your micro-expressions and despite his eidetic memory, he took the energy to make sure he remembers how you react to everything.

You narrowed your eyes as you furiously kept eye contact, not willing to lose at least that particular battle. As you silently debated whether you should keep it classy or send him where the Sun doesn’t shy, he winked at you, grabbed his bag and left to catch the plane, leaving you fuming in your chair.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have fun!” Penelope walked next to you, placed her hand on your shoulder, and squeezed it excitedly. “He also tried to pull a similar stunt a few years ago when his leg got shot, but Hotch found out. He was my bitch for a few cases.”

“Yeah, I feel like bitch is an appropriate term for him.”

Not even half a day passed by, and you were already at each other’s throats through a video call. You temporarily moved into Garcia’s tech cave so you could still help the team out in the best way you could. Derek and Emily were at the latest crime scene where the victim was still there. Rossi and JJ were checking out the first and the second scene. Hotch was consulting with the local police station, and Reid worked on a rough profile based on the information he had. The unsub took meticulous forensic countermeasures, so setting up a geographical profile had little to no use.

“We could very much be looking at a female unsub who may hate her femininity.” theorised Spencer as he was looking at photos of the crime scenes.

“I highly doubt that.” This sentence was almost instinctive, the way you said it so quickly. You were sitting in an office chair with your legs pulled up and crossed over and were chewing at the end of your pen.

“Who could’ve guessed.” You didn’t have to look at the screen to know that he was rolling his eyes.

“Why would she poison the victims and then butcher their breasts and abdomen while they’re still alive? The poison would lose its intended purpose.”

“She could be sadistic on a psychotic break. If she feels like the poison isn’t quick enough, she loses control and finishes the job herself.”

“Yes, but it’s still not logical. If the victims were dead by the time she started stabbing them, I could see that destroying the biological female body parts is simply a message and nothing more. However, since they’re still alive, the stabbing becomes a sexual act. It’s textbook sadism and sexual assault, and you know that, Spencer.” You were explaining yourself so passionately that you didn’t even notice the way you called him. It wasn’t anything special, but you always kept your distance by calling him Reid, Dr Reid or Doctor. It didn’t bother him, but he didn’t like it either. He couldn’t figure out whether you were doing it to keep things professional even when you argued or if it had another meaning. You called everyone by their first names except him. And he didn’t get why. But if he asked for a reason, it’d mean he cared. Which he definitely did not.

Now, however, hearing the way you said it made him block down for a few seconds. His saviour was the team that arrived back from the field. This meant new evidence, possibly new perspectives and hours more discussions.

During the time when you had nothing to do since he fucked you over during the morning briefing, you were thinking about a way to get back at him.

“Would signing him up for Jehovah’s Witnesses violate any workplace protocol? Or signing him up for porn sites?”

“If he knew it was you, definitely.”

“Ah, he’d know for sure.” you sighed and pressed your forehead on the cold grey table while you let out a defeated sigh. “I don’t know what to do, he is seriously pissing me off.”

“As someone who considers themselves a close friend of both of you, I’d say just finally do the dirty.” As this diabolical sentence left her mouth so carefreely while she filed her nails, you almost choked on your saliva.

“PENELOPE!” You nearly screamed between coughs.

“Listen, sugarplum. The sexual tension between you could be cut with a knife. It’s clearer than Derek’s delicious chocolate slabs in a wet t-shirt.”

“Damn, I kinda get the mandatory HR lectures now.” You groaned mostly to yourself since the woman next to you was basically head over heels for the image in her mind. “The only tension between us is borderline homicidal.”

“I can see both of you secretly kinky. I mean, you were with a teacher, so there’s definitely something there. But Boy Wonder can’t be vanilla either.”

“Pen, I’ll stab my throat with a pencil and bleed all over your stuff if you don’t stop.”

thank you so much for reading my work, hope you're having an awesome day! taglist: @halfbloodwriter @starrystormwritings @kspencer34 divider from @cafekitsune