#i had down feathers on the side of my face

[all-with-angel]

"𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?"

Summary: In which he says No to you buying something, but it backfires badly (request!)

Including: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

Content: crack, hurt/comfort, gn!reader

w.c. 500ish each || Masterlist || MDNI.

“Could we get that?”

He followed your gaze, eyes skimming the display before flicking back to you. And then he did something you should've expected.

He shrugged. “Nah.”

Your heart stuttered. “Oh,” you said, blinking once. “Okay. Sorry.” You dropped his hand before continuing to walk forward, not once looking back at display or him, for that matter, as both guilt and shame built up in your chest.

❥ SATORU GOJO

The moment he realized you were actually upset over it, he felt his heart drop out of his ass. He stood there, dumbfounded as he stared at your retreating figure that slumped slightly forward. The sight reminded him of something that he swore would never let happen again- No, he won’t get left behind again.

He raced over to your side. “No, wait- baby, wait, heyheyheyyyy-” His voice pitched up, breathless and rushed. “It was a joke! A prank! I was kidding! Of course we can get it, are you kidding me? You want the whole shelf? I’ll buy the whole store if you want it!”

His heart went wild. His hands fumbled for yours again, touch feather-light like he was afraid you’d pull away for good. He cranked the dramatics to eleven. If he had to dig himself out of this hole with the fluffiest, most excessive display of affection in human history, then so be it.

He spun you towards him, before literally dropping to his knees. In the middle of the mall, in broad daylight, by the way.

“I have made a terrible mistake,” he cried, throwing his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your stomach and sobbing like a man who had just lost everything. “I’M SORRYYYY- PLEASE forgive me. I was blinded by hubris. My arrogance has cost me the love of my life.”

He cried dramatically, much to your horror. You smacked him, panic and embarrassment replacing the insecurity in your chest.

It didn’t stop him though, he continued whining and apologizing- Promising to buy you the entire mall and then some more, which terrified you, because he could. At some point, you just tried walking off in an attempt to get him off of you. It failed, and backfired. Because as you attempted to walk away, he was just dragged across the floor with his arms still wrapped tight around you. He never stopped apologizing, promising grander and grander things every other second.

In the end, you ended up consoling him. You had to reassure him that you were okay now, and that you’d continue to ask him for things again and again. All the while he laid his head on your lap after you two got a very expensive spa date.

“Promise?” He sniffed.

“Yes, Satoru. I promise to ask you for things even if I barely want or need them,” You recited, memorizing the words after repeating them a hundred times over already. “-And I won’t feel bad for spending money with your black card.” The thought of doing that sent a pang of guilt through you, but it didn’t compare to the exasperation you felt after saying it over and over again. Maybe getting spoiled once in a while all the time wasn’t so bad.

❥ SUGURU GETO

He hadn’t expected it to hit you like that- he really hadn’t. It was a joke, a stupid little prank the girls had convinced him to do. They were giggling and nodding along and he couldn’t say no to his girls, now could he? Like a fool.

And his stomach twisted as he watched your expression drop. Suguru wanted to say something, his mouth opening but the words were caught in his throat as he watched you walk away.

“Daaad,” Nanako complained, tugging at his sleeve.

“You made them sad,” Mimiko whispered, her lip jutting out as she stared after you. “That wasn’t funny.”

Suguru blinked, looking down at both of them. Weren’t they the ones who suggested this? “And you didn’t even say it right,” Nanako added dramatically, arms crossed. “You were too serious.”

“Yeah,” Mimiko nodded. “Now you have to fix it.”

Both girls had already rushed ahead to walk beside you, gripping the edge of your coat and pouting up at you like you were the sun and they were clouds desperate to stay close. Little traitors. Now they were talking about how Mean Suguru was and how he’d make up for it.

What further broke his heart was how you reassured the girls, saying that it was fine and you shouldn’t ask for such expensive things so randomly like that. That made the girls pout, glaring back at him as if he put that idea in your head. Okay, maybe he deserved that though. Suguru hated that way of thinking of yours. Hated that for a split second, you thought you had to apologize for wanting something so small.

Luckily, the girls had shown their mercy towards him and started dragging you towards the display you were pointing at, saying that they wanted it too- And that you should match with them.

Suguru had made sure to pay for it immediately, taking your hand in his as he apologized. “You shouldn’t have had to apologize,” he said simply. “I’m sorry, it was a stupid prank.” He glanced towards the girls, who looked away to definitely look at other displays.

His eyes were on yours again, offering a soft but guilty smile. “You never have to earn anything from me. Not affection, not gifts, not a yes. You ask, and if it makes you smile, it’s already mine to give.”

By the end of the day, you were tired. You had walked around the mall for nearly 3 hours straight as the girls dragged you from one shop to the next, each time coming out with more bags than ever. 

None of them were held by you, Suguru had made sure of that. He was carrying a comical amount of bags and whenever you’d try to say something about it- About anything about this being too much, something you didn’t deserve, he’d gently shut it down and he nudged you towards the girls who were already looking at some cute plushies you’d like.

❥ KENTO NANAMI

Nanami realized the mistake the moment your fingers slipped from his.

He hadn’t expected you to let go so easily. Or for your voice to drop so small. He thought you’d laugh- roll your eyes and nudge him, maybe pout a little and say, “C’mon, don’t be stingy.” That’s what he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected was the way your expression shuttered, the way your shoulders stiffened like you were preparing for disappointment.

It had been a joke. A dry one, maybe poorly delivered, but harmless in intent. Just a shrug, a simple “nah” meant to be followed by a small chuckle.

God.

He hated himself a little, right then.

He caught up to you silently, his long strides swallowing the distance in seconds. He called your name softly, gently grabbing your wrist. When you turned to look at him, your face was schooled into something polite and a little too distant. The edges of your mouth tried to rise into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I was joking, darling,” he said softly, finally. “I didn’t mean it.”

Still, you didn’t fully relax. You just gave a small shrug, like it didn’t matter. “It’s fine, I didn’t need it anyway.”

He exhaled, frowning deeply now, before tugging you into the direction the two of you came from. Your eyes widened in panic, immediately repeating that it was fine, that he didn’t need to, that you seriously didn’t need it. It didn’t stop him though, he continued on with you in tow and bought it. When he handed it to you, his gaze softened.

“You never have to apologize for asking for something, especially not with me. I want to give you things. I want you to feel safe asking.”

Before you could open your mouth to go against him, he continued. “You deserve to be spoiled,” He let the item rest in your hands. “I’ll do better next time.”

“It’s yours,” he said, offering it to you without fanfare, but with the quiet weight of sincerity. “And I want you to enjoy it. No guilt. No apologies.”

You sighed, relaxing and holding what you wanted in your hands, wrapped in a paper bag.

Kento Nanami - 1, Your insecurity - 0.

❥ TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji had done it as a joke. Hell, he’d been messing around with you like this for as long as he could remember, teasing, pulling pranks that always ended with laughter and you rolling your eyes at him. But this? This wasn’t what he’d expected.

He fucked up. He rubbed a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. 

It only took him a moment to catch up with you, his long stride easily closing the gap, but when he reached you, he hesitated. He could tell you weren’t looking for an apology, not really—that would probably only make things worse. You were too polite for that, too considerate to make a big deal out of something like this.

But Toji was never one to let something slide. Not when it involved you.

So now, you found yourself being held hostage cuddled with one arm as Toji scrolled through your favorite online shops. You were snug in the crook of his arm, your legs tossed over his lap, cheek pressed against his chest. His fingers curled possessively around your waist. You had stopped struggling half an hour ago, knowing he wouldn’t budge.

“Toji- ” you started, voice soft.

“Shhh.” He continued scrolling on the phone, angling it so it was in your view. “Pick.”

“Toji, I don’t want anything-” You tried again- yes, he had been doing this for almost an hour. Making you pick out at a minimum of 5 things from every online shop he knew you liked.

“You heard me,” he said, voice low and firm. “Or I’ll pick everything out for you.”

“No!” You shouted, groaning as you slumped further into him. “It wasn’t even a big deal, I shouldn’t have-”

“It was a big deal,” he said, interrupting, his hand rubbing up and down your back with slow pressure. “I was joking, you took it seriously. Yknow I’d do anything for you, right?”

You swallowed thickly, biting your lip.

“I was tryna be funny,” he went on, quieter now. “But I didn’t realize I fucked it up that bad.”

“You didn’t- ”

“I did.” His tone left no room for argument. “And you felt bad for feelin’ bad. That ain’t right either.”

You sighed. “I just overreacted.”

“I don’t care if you cried in the middle of the damn store, I still would’ve been wrong.” He nudged your cheek with his chin. “Now pick your shit or I’ll do it for you.”

“...Fine.”

❥ SUKUNA RYOUMEN

Sukuna watched you walk ahead, your hand slipping from his like it had never belonged there in the first place. His hand twitched, flexing as if readying to cut someone up on instinct. He felt angry, but not exactly at you. Maybe at your brain, how you thought.

What the hell was that?- The hell do you mean, sorry?

Sukuna’s jaw ticked, crimson eyes narrowing as he tried to process what just happened. He could still see the display in the corner of his vision—the thing you wanted, whatever the hell it was. He hadn’t even looked properly. Just heard the tone in your voice, that soft, hopeful question, and thought, yeah, this’ll be funny.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. He didn’t speak much. Not because he was mad—but because he didn’t know what the fuck to say. He kept stealing glances at you. Watching you act like nothing happened. Quiet. Polite. Distant. Like you were doing your best not to take up space.

Sukuna hated it.

The next morning, you woke up to something absurd.

It started with a faint rustle beside the bed. You blinked your eyes open, brow furrowing, the sunlight just beginning to spill through the window. You groaned and turned over, feeling for your husband- Who was uncharacteristically not sleeping and warm beside you.

Instead, your eyes widened when you saw what was on the bedside. Not just the thing you wanted from the store yesterday.

But that plus a mountain of other gifts. Carefully stacked, painstakingly arranged—clothes, snacks, trinkets, plushies, books you’d mentioned offhandedly. Stuff that couldn’t have been pulled together overnight unless someone went on a tear through every store within ten miles and burned through money like it was paper.

Sitting beside it all, arms crossed, lip curled in a dramatic scowl… was Sukuna. He was tapping his foot impatiently.

You sat up, letting the blanket fall from your shoulders, mouth agape. “Sukuna…”

“It’s not a big deal,” he growled, red eyes darting away like they were allergic to your expression. “You wanted that dumb thing. So I got it. And the rest was- was just there. It was all on sale, probably. I didn’t check.”

Your gaze swept over the pile again. Some of it was very obviously not on sale. Limited edition. Imported. Things you’d only mentioned once while scrolling late at night. You looked back at him—and found him staring at the floor now, like he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes.

“Sukuna,” you said again, softer this time.

He let out a slow breath, tension sagging from his shoulders. “I didn’t mean it.” He grumbled. “Sorry.”

You swallowed. “Sukuna, it’s fine, this-” you motioned towards the pile of gifts. “This is too much for me! I didn’t mean to upset you, I overreacted anyway-”

He clicked his tongue. “You didn’t.” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I did. But it’s not like you were bein’ dramatic or anything. You just… looked like I kicked your damn puppy.”

“I wasn’t mad.”

“That’s worse!” he snapped, gesturing at you like you’d committed some unspeakable offense. “You weren’t mad. You were just-” hurt. He didn’t like it. “...Not happy.”

Your gaze softened. “You could’ve just said something there.”

He grunted. “Whatever.” He nudged one of the boxes towards you with his foot, it was wrapped in a pretty pink bow. “Open them.”

A.N. 😼😼😼 I enjoyed this one too much, thankyou for the request moonie ml <3

[alchemistc]

ivory limbed and brown-eyed

Buck wakes with the sun streaking across his face and a finger tracing the lines around his eyes, feather light touch and a shadow across his brow like Tommy's tilted his head just to make sure he doesn't take a direct hit from the early morning rays.

"Time'sit?" He mumbles, and rolls into the warmth of Tommy's body heat. It's been raining for like three days straight, torrential downpours and extra long shifts, and they'd fallen asleep with water still pounding on the roof, too tired for more than a lazy sloppy kiss before they both passed out. He has no idea when it stopped. No idea when the clouds broke.

"Early," Tommy says, and Buck hums into his neck, considers sucking a bruise behind his ear. They don't have a shift for four days. Tommy would probably let him.

He's been indulgent, in the months since they cracked open their ribcages and had a conversation.

And then another conversation.

And then ten or twenty more.

"Where's my breakfast?" he asks, just to be a brat, because this is maybe the first time since they were fucking morning noon and night that he's woken up to Tommy still in bed with him. This is new, though. The sweep of work-roughened fingers, fat and long, shifting through his hair, catching in the barrel of a knotted curl. The stretch of a hefty leg, curled over his good knee. The ticklish twitch he's trying so hard to hide as Buck mouths at his collarbone.

He loves this man.

Tommy swats at his ass in retaliation. "I ordered bagels like forty minutes ago but someone just picked them up."

Buck pouts into the stretch of skin between his shoulder and neck. Shifts a shoulder to allow for the sweep of Tommy's hand as it starts to meander up and down his back. "Breakfast's always better when you make it."

"Too late to cancel now," he murmurs, like he wants to keep this quiet little bubble a little bit longer.

Last night had been rough, he knows. Two DOA's in a single night, nothing he could do about it, both of them long gone before he could risk life and limb flying through the rain. One of them was a kid.

Some days leaving it at the door is harder than others.

He'd been expecting the usual, when Tommy was working through something. Up at dawn to get a run in, back before the birds started looking for their worms to rifle through the fridge for breakfast. Buck had cried for a solid twenty minutes the first time Tommy confessed he'd started making breakfast for his mom the mornings after blowout fights with his dad. That breakfast was a love note he hadn't been able to write for a long time. He'd been thirteen.

So Buck never complains when the bed is cold on Tommy's side. Not now that he has his own side of the bed.

But Tommy's here, this morning, blinking at him in the soft yellow light shifting through the plantation blinds they forgot to close last night. Tommy's here, pressing the pads of two fingers to the sweep of the cheekbone below his birthmark. Tommy's here drinking in the sight of Buck like it's healing some deep hurt inside him he thought would never scab over.

Buck feels a little overwhelmed by it.

They're still navigating when they need to talk about things. When the words aren't actually necessary. They'd done a debrief, of sorts, last night. He can still taste the salt of the tears that had slid over Tommy's cheekbones as they whispered in the dark, and Buck had kissed them away. "You think we can get our driver to toss the bagels through the window? Maybe we just tell them where the spare key is and they can throw it at the bed."

The snort that shakes Tommy's chest makes Buck feel like he's won a marathon. Tommy tips his chin, glances over his shoulder, shifts his weight to grab his phone off the nightstand - ruffles Buck's hair at the plaintive whine Buck let's loose at losing chest to chest contact. "I doubt Melinda would be comfortable with that, but I left her a fat tip and begged her not to ring the doorbell when she left it at the door."

Because of course he'd want Buck to have as much sleep as he could get. Because he thinks about that kind of thing on such a regular basis it sometimes takes Buck's breath away.

Buck pulls him back before he can get more than a glance at his phone. Tugs Tommy to his chest, works his fingers into his thick mane and tucks his chin long enough to press his lips to the crown of Tommy's head. Tommy's sigh is deep, reverberating, hot breath shifting through the hair Buck decided to let grow back for no particular reason at all that definitely didn't have to do with Tommy admiring Henry Cavill's insane pecs in whatever the last movie they'd watched with him in it was. "I'll make you breakfast tomorrow." Tommy sighs when Buck digs into his scalp. Groans at the pressure when Buck curls his fingers in.

"Let's see how good these bagels are. Maybe they'll be so good Melinda will put you out of a job."

He's fully expecting the fingers that dig into his ribs, but he still squirms from them when Tommy grumbles and nips at his shoulder.

[blooddlusts]

WHENEVER I CLOSE MY EYES ⋆｡°✩ yang jungwon

( BUT I'LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS ) ── yang jungwon x toxic fem! reader

synposis: in which you're doing some spring cleaning and find a box hidden in the attic. and the memories rush through your mind and the tears run down your face as you remember the boy that you lost.

fic notes: yang jungwon x toxic fem! reader, arguing, crying, trip down memory lane, inspired by euphoria's maddy perez & nate jacob's hot tub fight, breakup angst because why not...

kiara's notes: heavily inspired by ariana grande's music video for we can't be friends and dream by lisa. just realized that i also wrote a fic for this on my old batboys account so i definately just retouched my old work hehe oops. can't picture jungwon being in any shape or form as a toxic ex so sorry, the reader is breaking his heart...also i couldn't find a pic for blonde! jungwon so i apologize but he is blonde in this fic (@nocturnebite this is for you bestie) okay imma stop yapping now

word count: 1.66k

the feather duster was a reminder of how neglected the attic was. it's yellow colour had been streaked with shades of grey as you dusted the large windowsill. time was relative in a space that collected memories. yet, there was something comforting about the large stained glass window that shimmered colours on the wall and on the ground while you swept and dusted the abandoned room.

it had been collected with boxes, old televisions, vintage lamps, record players, cassette tapes, and whatever other memories were hidden in physical form. your parents hadn't been up in the attic in years, and neither had you. so maybe that was why you were so complacent when they asked for your help during spring cleaning.

you could get lost in a room that reflected the rainbow while your hands would rummage through boxes, paper after paper, looking through old scrapbooks, journals and first grade paintings and macaroni necklaces. the feather duster was left on the windowsill as you sat on the ground, your fingers combing through anything you could get your hand on. that was the beauty of cleaning the attic —it was a trip down memory lane.

your eyes scanned around to find another box to look through, another memory to reminisce in. until there was one that caught your eye, tucked away tightly beside a large chest of your grandmother's old dresses. dented in the corners, a film of dust on the top; your hands eagerly reached to grab the box until a familiar whiff of cologne struck your nose as the box touched your fingertips.

you couldn't put your finger on it, why it had felt so nostalgic. you brushed off the film of dust before opening the box, hoping that there was something in here that would be a clue. another box to rummage, another box to find answers in. folded pieces of paper and crumbled up notes were thrown upon each other until you scrummaged out a picture frame from the bottom of the box. you flipped it over to see the back of the photograph facing you. biting your lip in frustration you turn the picture frame over, opening it up to see a photograph of you smiling.

a pair of hands were wrapped around your waist by a boy with locks of blonde hair that fell in front of his face. he was grinning ear to ear as he was holding you in his arms like he was the happiest boy on earth. to which you were smiling at him too, holding his arms as you leaned into his embrace while you were smiling as you were kissing him on the cheek.

yang jungwon.

you placed the picture frame to the side, your hands now rummaging through the box more aggressively. tiny polaroids of the two of you were accumulating in your hands: kisses on the cheek, holding hands, his hands cupping your breasts, your foreheads touching, dinner dates. the more you found another polaroid picture, it was as if you were thrown back five years in time. arcade tokens, fortune cookies, movie tickets, bracelets, pressed flowers, love letters, little notes that you would sneak to each other, letters, origami hearts. the box was an infinite void of the love you once had.

what had posses you to hold on to these trinkets? your eyes wandered with curiosity as his face kept appearing. the little love notes he would write to you, the cheesy drawing of the future home that he wanted to have with you. it was all coming back in fragments. so why didn't you smile?

nails dug into your skin as you tried to hold back the waterfall of tears that were begging to fall down your face. he always deserved someone better. how many times had you begged for him, crawling to him, pleading to him not to leave you? how many times had he muttered the word 'okay' softly as he pressed a kiss to tour hair while you sobbed in his chest? how many times had you made promises that you knew you would never keep? he deserved better, he always deserved better.

"please tell me that they're lying to me. tell me that it's not true. tell me that you've changed, tell me that you're not going to fuck me up and screw me over like everyone else," his voice rang inside your head as the memories decided to seep slowly into your thoughts.

you lifted up another polaroid, one that you decided to take of him when you two had gone for a drive out in the fields to see the sunset. your lip quivered as his voice continued to ring into your head while his happy smile was frozen on film. he deserved better.

jungwon had never once left your side. not after all of your screw ups. not after you fucked him over so many times, not after it felt like the you could never be the person he wanted, not after you had set so many expectations to be perfect for him that you were failing. the more you two were together, the more you were shattering his heart into a million pieces. you loved him, but you could never be enough.

"jungwon, please. i'm trying. you know that i'm trying. they're lying to you baby, i swear. i promise you that i'm not screwing you over," you beg as you grab him by the sleeve of his sweater, tears streaming down your face as you tried to hold on to him.

he pulled himself away from your grasp. he ran his hands through his hair exasperatingly. you felt your hands shake as you finally realized that maybe this was the moment when he wasn't going to take you back. not while he was biting his lip and pacing around the room.

"you're making me think that what they told me about you is right. i just don't know what to believe anymore. look, i love you. you know i love you. but i think i need space, y/n. i'm just so confused right now," jungwon said shakingly as he tried to look you in the eyes, his cheeks stained with tears as he slowly made his way towards the door.

"no. don't do this to me. don't give me space. that is the last thing i want from you right now. please, stay. stay with me, jungwon," you pleaded as you could feel hot tears seeping out of your eyes as you grasped him by the wrist trying to pull him away from getting closer to the door.

"so what?" jungwon snapped as he pulled his wrist away from your grasp.

"so we can talk and soothe things over? so we can pretend that it never happened until you go do it again? because you and i both know that you're going to go back and do it again. you don't care about me, y/n. you haven't changed," jungwon hissed as his eyes narrowed as they met yours. in that moment, you could see how his eyelashes were drenched in water, how he was just as heartbroken as you were pleading to take him back.

"that's not fair. i'm trying, you know i am," you replied as you shook your head. the lie felt like poison as it ran down your throat.

you both knew that you had said that a hundred times. a hundred times he had given you a chance to change. you had every opportunity to prove yourself to him, that you weren't going to screw him over, to tell the voices that you were different. but you didn't.

"do you even mean the things you say? 'i'll try, i promise, i'll do better, you're the only person i care about. i promise, jungwon, i'll change. i'll grow. i don't deserve you, but i love you.' shit, i'm so stupid. how could i have been so fucking stupid? you and i both know that what you've been saying to me was complete bullshit!" jungwon yelled as threw his hands up in the air, as the final pieces of the puzzle connected in his brain.

"of course i mean what i say! i promise you that i'm trying, why don't you believe me?" you cried.

the tears that tricked down his face, the lower lip that quivered as he shook his head said more than the empty words you had been feeding him throughout your entire relationship. because he finally recognized that you were repeating the same words over and over again. and he finally realized that they didn't mean anything coming out of your lips.

"because you don't love me," the words were like a slap to the face as they escaped jungwon's lips.

"because if you loved me, you wouldn't need a hundred and one chances to prove that to me. if you loved me, you wouldn't be making all of these promises knowing that you'll never keep them. if you loved me, you would have actually changed, y/n. instead, you've been treating me like shit and i'm sick of putting up with it!"

sometimes jungwon's voice sounded like honey. now it was mixed with shattering glass as his words made your heart crack.

"what hurts is knowing that i spent time waiting for you to love me. but the truth is you don't love me. you never loved me,"

your hands traced the picture that you had dug out from the picture frame. a tear rolled down your cheek as your fingers traced over his once smiling face. every single word had been right and not even your lovesick heart could have ever fixed the damage you had created. he deserved better.

amongst all of the lies that had tainted your lips in that relationship, there was one truth that had lingered in your tastebuds as you slowly put back the trinkets, letters, and polaroids back in the box.

you loved him.

reblogs, feedback, comments & likes are appreciated!

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 40

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- I love you all so muchhh!! Your comments have me on the floor. 🩷

Billie’s POV

The warm, orange rays of light shine through the grand hotel curtains, highlighting our new summer skin. Remy’s sunburn has gone from a reddish, bright pink, to a golden, olive tan. During sunrise and sunset, her bronzed skin glowed so nicely, you’d think she was drenched in coconut oil. The light, cream colored sheets were a nice contrast wrapped around her torso in a tangled mess.

The old, bleach stained tank top that barely covered anything up slid down her shoulder, and her shorts were rolled up at the hem sloppily. The time difference has caught up to me, causing me to wake up early every morning. Remy, on the other hand, stayed up very late and woke up even later. If I don’t wake her with breakfast myself, she’d probably sleep until lunch time.

The time on the clock is five in the morning.

I allow myself a few more moments, here in this luxury bed, just in case it’s the last time. My face is stuck to the pillow, sinking in, feeling the coolness of the dawn feathers, as I time the seconds between each of her breaths. I push some hair behind her ear, which is adorned with multiple dainty diamond piercings.

One, two, three, four, five…

I count them for the millionth time, moving down to her sun stained cheek, and counting her freckles instead.

I think about reaching for the phone and ordering breakfast for us, getting up and taking a shower, but I can’t move. I can’t get up. I can only watch her sternum and chest move up and down, slowly, as she breathes.

The sound of a service cart rolling down the hotel corridors breaks the silence, causing Remy to stir.

I watch as she turns over towards me, slightly fluttering her eyes, fitting herself perfectly like the missing puzzle piece I needed. Her face nuzzles close to mine, claiming my pillow as her own. Her lips are slightly parted, a light scrunch of the nose, and tiny noise of contentment escapes her mouth.

I lick my lips, daydreaming of what it would be to kiss hers. I lightly place a hand on her cheek, outlining her jawline and running my thumb over her cupids bow.

A beautiful sleeping princess in my presence. How could I be so lucky? No one else in the world gets to lay beside this delicate, ethereal woman.

I take my fingertips and very softly run them over her collarbone, making my way around her shoulder, imagining how sweet her caramel skin would taste on my tongue. I imagine that my fingertips are rose petals, and she barely feels my touch.

I imagine what I would do if she opened her sultry eyes, and discovered me admiring her soft features and dreamlike presence.

I fix her hanging tank top strap, placing it back on her shoulder properly. I wish instead, I could place a long, gentle kiss. I wonder if this intense, overwhelming fixation would eventually kill me. I wonder if craving someone’s love this badly could lead to death. Is this what starvation feels like?

Being this close to her is what I imagine a mirage to be like.

Quenched and lost, crawling toward a curtain of water, plunging from a great height. It’s white foam and spray creating a misty, wonderful veil as it crashes into a turquoise pool below, surrounded by greenery and blooming fuchsia hibiscus. A magnificent waterfall. To dive headfirst into it, only to watch it disappear before your eyes. To try to bring a scoop of water to your lips, only for it to be nothing but a handful of dry, gritty sand.

Everything will evaporate when she opens her eyes.

So, for now, I sit here in silence, taking in what I almost did yesterday. Pretending I said what I wanted to say, pretending she felt the way I wanted her to feel.

Last night I almost lost her. This morning I wouldn’t be this close to her, if I had let myself speak. If I kept talking, she’d be sleeping on the other side of the bed, perhaps on the pullout couch. She wouldn’t be as careless in her sleep, letting herself be within arms reach of a greedy, lustful liar.

Now, I feel disgusting for touching her, disgusting for putting my possessive fingers anywhere near her helpless body.

I quickly get up, my chest beginning to flutter, not with joy, but with anguish.

I need to shower. I’m filthy. My thoughts are filthy.

Is this how men think? Yuck.

I walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and immediately stripping off my clothes. Tears brimmed my eyes as I turned the water on and stared in the mirror, the naked, vulnerable reflection looking back at me, taunting me.

My chest feels heavy and stomach begins to turn, giving me a sign I need to get under the cold running water, before I end up losing it on this floor.

I stand under the shower head, letting the cold stream shock me back to reality. I tell myself I’m okay, that nothing has changed, and as long as I stay quiet, nothing will change.

Once I feel myself again, and I know I can breathe, I bathe myself like nothing happened.

When I step out of the bathroom, Remy lays untouched, as if nothing ever happened. I put on something comfortable and grab my phone to mindlessly scroll through social media while I brush my hair.

Fan pages and irrelevant news blogs flood my screen, flaunting photos of Remy and I at the park yesterday. There were no unflattering angles, or embarrassing out of context quotes.

Apparently it’s just two girls who seem way too close and way too comfortable to just be friends.

“Oh no.” I look, skimming through the article, tapping on the next one and looking through the photos too.

We look like a couple. My eyes linger over the photos. Is this what we look like in everyone else’s eyes? Are we the only two people who don’t know we’re together? No matter how bad I wish the tabloids were right about us, I can’t help but think Remy will disapprove.

I roll my eyes, knowing they’ve written articles like this before, but usually with other girls. Never with Remy. They’ve taken pictures of me going into her apartment complex, and claimed I was seeing someone there, but they’d never photographed us this close, this intimate.

I’m sure she’ll look at these and roll her eyes, tell me how ridiculous I’d be if it were true. She’ll shake her head and call the paparazzi names, saying they’re crazy for thinking we’d ever date.

She’d be right, but it would hurt. Like hell.

“Morning.” She yawns, stretching out like a ball of yarn unraveling.

“Hey.” I look over, putting my phone in my pocket.

She reaches for her phone, realizing it’s only about six in the morning. She’s never up this early. “I need to go back to sleep.” She groans, squinting her eyes until she turns the screen brightness down.

I laugh a bit, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” I turn my attention to my hair, brushing it out, fighting this awful cowlick from forming. I wait anxiously for the inevitable discovery of her very own front page article.

I know she’s going to say something. I know I’m going to feel rejected.

Minutes pass and she hasn’t seen it yet. Then, it happens.

She gasps, “Oh shit! Billie did you see this?” She laughs, her mouth slightly open, her eyes completely captivated at the pictures before her.

“I know. Can you believe that? So stupid.” I shake my head, knowing if I’m the one to say it, It’ll hurt less. I scoff, “I don’t know why they make shit up like that.” I try my best to muster up the most disgusted face.

“We look cute though.” She puts her phone down.

She shrugs, I bite my lip, nodding as I moisturize my face.

“At least they didn’t get a photo of me sucking on your finger.” She laughs, getting up and looking for today’s outfit. She pulls out a pair of biker shorts, still giggling.

“Right? What a headline that would’ve been.” I laugh, pretending not to care. “They wish.”

Remy changes, looking over at me, “They’re gonna stalk us today, aren’t they?”

I groan, “Hopefully not. They do a good job of hiding.”

“We’ll give them a show, then.” She laughs, standing next to me, fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Don’t even joke about that.” I bump my hip into hers.

“Kidding.” She winks at me through the reflection.

My heart melts but I keep it to myself.

*******

“Uhh… How about you go first?”

I laugh, buckling into the equipment. She’d been so excited to go rock climbing the entire car ride here, but as soon as we arrived, she realized it was a natural rock wall that we’d climb up on, and totally psyched herself out.

“We’re gonna go together, at the same time, silly.”

I help her, pulling up the straps between her legs, tightening them in the back. She flinches, stumbling back a tiny bit.

“Damn,” she says, feeling around her strapped in body.

“You’re nice and secure now.” I tap on her equipment.

“Are you sure?” She looks up at the highest rock formation near us.

“We’ll start out easy, don’t worry. We’ll move up to a taller one, only when you feel ready.” I giggle, pulling her by one of the loops, along with me to the beginner wall.

“I didn’t know it’d be, like, an actual mountain. Where are all the little colorful steppy thingies?”

“It’s not a mountain it’s just the side of a cliff.” I laugh. “You’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll be right next to you.”

We speak to the attendants and they hook us up safely. After explaining the rules and how the ropes work, we stand at the bottom of the rock wall.

“I’ll go first, you can follow my lead.” I look up, finding where to step and grab onto first.

She swallows hard, smiling nervously at me. “Okay…”

“Just step on here, and here…” I climb up a bit, looking down at her.

She makes her way onto the wall, keeping track of where I step, following me slowly.

“There you go. Keep doing that.” I continue up, making sure to slow down for her occasionally, taking it one step at a time.

Slowly but surely, we reach the top.

“Where’s the fun little bell you ring when you make it all the way up?”

I look at her and she is so amused at herself. It makes me laugh as I give her a face. “No bell here. Just good ole rock!” I pat the hard surface with my unoccupied hand.

She laughs, “Then you owe me some type of reward after this. I was just doing it for the bell.” She smacks me, immediately bringing her hand back to the cliff, holding on for dear life.

“Alright, calm down now, squirrel girl.” I look down, “You ready to jump?”

“We’re jumping?”

“Well, no.” I laugh, “Don’t skydive, please.” I give the attendant a thumbs up, and take a small hop off the wall. “Kick your feet off the wall, like this.”

“Can’t I just climb back down?” She looks at her feet.

“No, come on, this is the fun part!” I smile, reaching my hand out to her, “You got this, Rem.”

She grabs it. My fingers are already numb from grasping at rock, so her tight squeezing doesn’t bother me. She lets out a small screech.

“You didn’t die!” I smile at her, proud of her small hop. “Keep going, just like that.” I make my way down, waiting for her at the bottom.

Eventually she makes it down too, proud of her small victory.

“Let’s go, there’s more!” I pull on her harness loop as soon as she’s detached from this wall.

An hour and two walls later, I’ve dragged her along to the tallest wall here.

With each climb, her confidence grows stronger and stronger. She was all smiles, and basically a pro by the time we gathered up the strength to start our third and final climb.

She didn’t need me to guide her anymore. She was ready to race me to the top. I love seeing her like this. She loves being in charge. She loves being good at something, anything, whatever it is she’s doing. That’s why new things scare her. I was a bit winded to start off with, but she’s ready to charge up the mountain.

I stretch my legs before stepping up, looking up as she starts her journey to the top. “Wait for me!” I begin to climb.

“You’re slowing me down, loser!” She sticks her tongue out at me, focusing on each step.

I finally catch up to her, slightly out of breath. Mostly from laughing, but also from climbing as fast as I can.

“You can’t just let me be better than you at something?” I keep up my pace.

“Nope. Just at singing and dancing. You can have that.” She laughs, watching me finally pass her. “Hey!”

I giggle, getting ahead, looking down at her. When I briefly glance at the ground, I notice a few people with cameras, far away enough not bother others, but not far enough for me to look past.

I notice Remy catching up, next to me, smiling and clueless. I look past her at the cameras, hoping they get their pictures and go away.

“What’s wrong? You stopped.” She asks, watching her footing.

“Fucking paparazzi.” I blow strands of hair off my forehead, trying to focus back on the climb.

I try my best to ignore them, but now I’m in my head about the next hottest celebrity gossip. I start to pick up the pace again, not wanting to be seen close enough to Remy that it gives them something to write about.

“Wait up!” She shouts, trying to catch up with me again.

I roll my eyes. She has no idea why this is a big deal to me. I don’t even know why this is such a big deal to me. I can’t take another dating rumor. I can’t take her laughing at the thought of us together in public.

“Billie!” She calls out, underneath me. Her face shows concern as she grabs onto my ankle.

Suddenly, it begins to lightly sprinkle, and the once clear, blue sky turns a muggy gray.

[leycorice]

destination you

sylus x zayne // fluff // 4k words

zayne's car broke down and now he's stuck taking the train—where he meets a dangerously charming stranger with a questionable moral compass, too many hitmen after him, and way too much interest in zayne's personal space.

cw : mob molester (but nothing happened dw)

the morning train was packed.

zayne barely spared a glance at the crowd pressing around him as he scrolled through an article about the latest advancements in medicine. his car was in the workshop, so this was his unfortunate reality for the next few days—standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers, enduring the occasional jostle, and mentally tuning out the muffled conversations around him.

not that it mattered. he had work to do.

a sharp click of a tongue sounded nearby, followed by a quiet huff. zayne briefly glanced up. someone—tall, broad-shouldered, silver-haired—had taken up the space near him, shifting irritably as more passengers squeezed in. he was dressed in a black blazer thrown over his shoulders, the striking red streaks on his shirt resembling feathers. his sharp red eyes flickered with mild irritation, but it didn’t seem directed at zayne.

whatever. not his problem.

zayne returned to his phone.

the next moment, a sudden movement in the crowd shoved the silver-haired man forward. a firm hand shot out, catching against the wall beside zayne’s head to keep himself steady.

zayne exhaled sharply, his hazel-green eyes lifting from his screen to the hand beside him. then, to the man looming a little too close. then, back to his phone.

not worth his time.

sylus, on the other hand, was thoroughly entertained.

he had been tracking the hitman trailing him ever since that stupid farce of a negotiation with some snobby old fossil.

the guy had been easy to spot—stiff, too focused, hands shifting toward his coat a little too often. a total amateur. sylus barely found these things exciting anymore. they always followed the same pattern: track, attack, fail.

still, he needed to ditch this one before getting to his actual destination. the train was just a diversion, and now he was cornered against a stranger who didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the proximity.

then, an idea.

sylus glanced over his shoulder, spotting the hitman maneuvering closer through the bodies in the train car. he turned back to the rather charming man in front, smirking.

well, what do you know.

“babe,” sylus suddenly drawled, sliding an arm around the raven's waist and tugging him in just slightly.

zayne finally looked up, a deep frown settling on his face.

sylus paid it no mind. he tilted his head, locking eyes with the hitman just beyond the crowd. then, with a perfectly unimpressed sneer, he pointed a lazy finger at him.

“hey, guy in the grey coat. yeah, you,” sylus said loudly. “you’ve been staring at my boyfriend for the past five minutes. got something to say?”

several heads turned.

the hitman faltered. the murmurs started.

zayne blinked.

“…excuse me?” he asked flatly.

sylus grinned, tightening his hold. “i know he’s gorgeous and all, but maybe stop drooling, huh? it’s getting weird.”

the hitman visibly tensed. he had been expecting a chase, a scuffle, maybe even a bullet flying his way. he had not been expecting this.

“dude,” someone muttered from the side. “seriously?”

the attention shifted entirely onto the hitman, passengers now eyeing him with mild irritation. a few rolled their eyes. a couple of them snickered. the tension in the air shifted from unease to secondhand embarrassment.

the hitman, flustered and suddenly unsure how to proceed, muttered a curse and turned away.

sylus, satisfied, wasted no time.

as the train rolled into the next station, he suddenly grabbed zayne’s wrist. “time to go, babe.”

“what?”

the doors slid open.

zayne barely had a second to react before he was tugged forward, his shoes scuffing against the train floor as sylus pulled him into the rush of exiting passengers. the doors closed behind them just as the train began moving again, leaving behind a very bewildered hitman and a wave of confused commuters.

only after they had stepped onto the platform did zayne sharply yank his hand away.

“explain,” he said, voice cool, professional, irritated.

sylus smirked, brushing nonexistent dust off his sleeve. “you’re welcome.”

“for what?”

“for saving your dignity.”

zayne narrowed his eyes. “that’s the worst excuse i’ve ever heard.”

“yeah, well.” sylus shrugged. “worked, didn’t it?”

zayne inhaled slowly, exhaling through his nose. he didn’t have time for this. his shift started in twenty minutes. this was—whatever this was, it wasn’t his problem.

“…i’m leaving.”

sylus watched as zayne turned on his heel and walked toward the station exit, posture still composed despite the morning’s absurdity.

interesting guy.

he might just have to see him again.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the next morning, zayne stood at the train platform, already resigned to the packed commute ahead.

he had barely slept—again. between back-to-back surgeries and late-night research, he had managed a grand total of three hours of rest. his head ached faintly, and his usual morning coffee wasn’t doing much to help.

at least, he thought, today would be uneventful. yesterday was just... a rare occurrence. surely, nothing will happen again.

then, as the train doors slid open, a familiar figure stepped inside.

zayne stared.

no.

there was no way.

that same silver haired jerk waltzed onto the train like he owned it, hands in his pockets, that same black blazer lazily slung over his shoulders. his silver hair was messier today, as if he had barely rolled out of bed, but his sharp red eyes were just as smug.

the train was packed as usual, but sylus moved through the crowd effortlessly. he was heading straight for the same corner.

straight for zayne.

zayne immediately looked away, pressing his lips into a thin line. maybe if he ignored him, he’d just—

“morning, babe,” sylus greeted, sliding into place beside him.

zayne closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply before exhaling through his nose.

not this. not again.

he turned his head slightly, hazel-green eyes locking onto sylus’s face with a level stare. “why are you here?”

sylus gave him an innocent look. “public transport is for the people, doctor.”

zayne stiffened slightly. “how do you know i’m a doctor?”

sylus smirked. “you read medical news first thing in the morning and your suit smells faintly of disinfectant. also, you have that—” he gestured vaguely, “—that very serious, ‘i cut people open for a living’ vibe.”

zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. this was too much. “i don’t have time for this.”

sylus hummed, not looking the least bit bothered. “yeah? where you headed?”

zayne ignored him.

sylus leaned in slightly. “c’mon, what’s your name?”

silence.

“or should i keep calling you babe?”

zayne finally turned to glare at him. “call me that again, and i will ensure you require actual medical attention.”

sylus grinned. “a doctor’s threat. that’s new.”

zayne returned to his phone, determined to block him out. he had no energy for this nonsense.

sylus, however, wasn’t done.

as the train made its next stop, the usual rush of passengers entering and exiting created another tight squeeze. sylus, ever the opportunist, leaned just a little closer, resting an elbow on the bar behind zayne’s head.

zayne sighed. “what now?”

sylus smirked down at him. “you didn’t deny you’re my boyfriend this time.”

zayne let out the slowest, most exhausted breath of his life.

he was never taking the train again.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

...or so he says.

the next morning, zayne stood on the train platform once again.

he had considered other options—buses, taxis, even walking—but he wasn’t about to rearrange his entire schedule just because some insufferable stranger had decided to make himself a nuisance.

besides, what were the chances of running into him again?

apparently, very high.

as soon as zayne stepped onto the train, he spotted him.

same messy silver hair, same sharp red eyes, and unfortunately, the same irritating smirk.

zayne pretended not to notice, shifting his attention to his phone. maybe—just maybe—sylus would lose interest and move on.

no such luck.

“zayne, huh?”

zayne frowned.

that wasn’t good.

he turned his head just in time to see sylus holding up his work id.

“give that back.”

sylus twirled the id between his fingers, lifting it just out of reach when zayne made a move for it. “starcatcher award? impressive.” he tilted his head, eyes glinting. “and a pretty name for a pretty guy.”

zayne’s eye twitched. “leave me alone.”

“oh, but i’m just being friendly,” sylus said smoothly, still holding the id hostage. “we had such a special moment yesterday, after all.”

“i already helped you with your stalker problem,” zayne muttered, making another grab for his id. sylus dodged, moving it further out of reach. “what do you want now?”

sylus let out a dramatic sigh. “ah, but you misunderstood, babe.”

zayne stiffened. “stop calling me—”

“that was your stalker.”

zayne stared at him. “i don’t have stalkers.”

sylus grinned. “until now, it seems.”

zayne inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “you are annoying.”

“and yet,” sylus mused, tucking zayne’s id neatly into his own pocket, “here you are, back on the train with me.”

“that’s because i have work.”

“and i,” sylus gestured vaguely, “am just making sure you get there safely. wouldn’t want anyone staring at you like some eye candy now, do we?”

zayne let out the slowest, longest breath possible.

“give. me. my. id.”

sylus grinned, clearly enjoying himself. he leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to sound borderline conspiratorial.

“what’ll you give me in return?”

zayne, exhausted beyond belief, leveled him with a cold stare.

“i’m a cardiac surgeon.” his tone was flat, his expression unreadable. “i can ensure you need my services.”

sylus laughed, finally pulling the id from his pocket and handing it back. “alright, alright. no need to get violent, doctor.”

zayne snatched it away, tucking it safely into his coat. “this conversation never happened.”

sylus smirked. “oh, but it did.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

zayne had grown used to the morning routine.

board the train. stand in his usual spot. ignore the crowd. endure sylus’s antics.

except today, sylus wasn’t there.

good riddance, zayne thought, adjusting his glasses as he shifted his focus to his phone. he had an article to review before his shift, something about advancements in pediatric heart valve replacements. he welcomed the silence.

the train was unusually packed, though.

bodies pressed tighter than usual, shoulders bumping, the air thick with the scent of too many people crammed in one place. zayne was used to physical proximity—hospitals weren’t much better during peak hours—but this was different. the pressure against his back was heavier than it should be, and the breath against his ear was closer than normal.

he ignored it at first.

maybe someone was just tired, leaning forward. maybe it was a coincidence.

then, he felt it.

a hand.

it was brief. a brush against his lower back.

zayne’s breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t react beyond that. he told himself it was an accident, a natural consequence of being packed so closely together.

until it happened again.

fingers, light but deliberate, skimmed against his waist.

zayne’s jaw clenched. his grip on his phone tightened.

he wanted to believe it was nothing, that he was overthinking it. but the discomfort gnawed at him, the wrongness of it sitting heavy in his gut. he didn’t have space to move, didn’t have the angle to turn around properly. if he made a scene, would anyone even care?

he felt helpless.

his fists curled at his sides.

another touch. a bold one this time. a finger dragging up his spine, slow, predatory. then down. lower.

disgust pooled in his stomach.

he wanted to turn and break the bastard’s wrist himself—wanted to do something—but before he could move, before he could even think, a familiar presence appeared behind him.

solid warmth. a firm grip landing on his waist—not intrusive, not uncomfortable, but grounding.

zayne inhaled sharply.

sylus.

he shouldn’t be relieved. he really, really shouldn’t.

but the second sylus pressed against him, an arm sliding around his shoulders, zayne melted into it before he could stop himself.

the air changed instantly.

the hand that had been touching him withdrew.

too late.

sylus turned his head slightly, red eyes cutting through the crowd like a blade. his free hand shot out with terrifying speed, catching the wrist of the man behind zayne.

a sharp, sickening snap.

the molester choked on his own breath, face twisting in pain, but he barely got a second to react before sylus leaned in, whispering something low and vicious against his ear.

zayne didn’t even catch the words.

didn’t care to.

all he knew was that when the train screeched to a stop at the next station, the man practically bolted out the doors, clutching his injured wrist and disappearing into the crowd without a sound.

too intimidated to cause a scene.

too terrified to even look back.

sylus exhaled, shaking out his fingers as if dealing with trash.

zayne barely realized he was still leaning against him, heart hammering against his ribs, breath unsteady.

he hated that he felt safer like this.

sylus glanced down at him, lips quirking in amusement. “miss me?”

zayne swallowed, forcing himself to straighten. his throat felt tight. he wasn’t sure he could even form words right now.

sylus’s smirk softened, just slightly.

“relax, babe,” he murmured, voice lower than usual. “no one touches what’s mine.”

zayne should be annoyed at that. he should shove him away, should scold him, should say something.

but for once, he stayed quiet.

just for a little longer.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

somewhere along the way, his mornings had shifted.

because sylus was there.

every day, without fail.

zayne never asked why. never invited him. but like clockwork, sylus would be at the train station—sometimes waiting for him on the platform, other times magically appearing at his side the second he stepped onto the train.

and with him came the teasing. the insufferable grins, the shameless flirting, the blatant invasion of personal space.

“you’re staring,” sylus would say, as if he hadn’t wedged himself into zayne’s side like a cat demanding attention.

“i’m wondering if you have an actual job,” zayne would reply, unimpressed.

sylus would smirk, lean in closer, and say, “taking care of you is a full-time job, babe.”

it was ridiculous. annoying.

but then—there were the goodbyes.

every morning, as the train neared zayne’s stop, sylus would casually say, “try not to kill yourself over work today.”

and every evening, when their paths crossed again—whether by coincidence or something more deliberate—sylus would mutter, “welcome back, doc.”

zayne never responded to those at first.

didn’t know how to.

it wasn’t something he was used to.

for most of his life, his days started in silence and ended in exhaustion. no one had ever been there to see him off or welcome him back. his parents were always away, his colleagues too preoccupied with their own lives. he had long accepted that as normal.

so why did it feel strange now?

unsettling, yet… not entirely unpleasant.

one morning, after another ridiculous exchange—sylus making some joke about charging rent for how often he occupied zayne’s space—zayne found himself doing something unexpected.

he smiled.

it was small, fleeting, barely there. but it happened.

and sylus noticed.

his usual smirk shifted—less teasing, more intrigued. his red eyes lingered on zayne’s face, almost thoughtful.

"so, you can smile after all."

zayne cleared his throat, immediately looking away. “you’re imagining things.”

sylus chuckled. “sure, doc. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

zayne shook his head, exhaling softly as the train pulled into his stop. he stepped off without another word, but just before the doors closed, he heard sylus call out—

“see you tonight.”

and for once, zayne didn’t find himself dreading it.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

it was another crowded morning.

zayne had learned to tolerate the chaos of public transportation—had learned to stand his ground against the rush of bodies pushing into the train, to brace himself against the momentum of sudden stops.

but today, he didn’t have to.

because sylus was there.

and sylus had a habit of making space where there wasn’t any.

“—so then this guy, right? pulls a gun on me. standard, nothing special. but get this—he’s shaking. like, full-on trembling, sweating bullets, looking like he’s about to piss himself.” sylus smirked, gesturing lazily with one hand while the other rested in his pocket. “and i’m thinking, ‘ah, man. first-timer. cute.’”

zayne exhaled through his nose, half-listening. he had long since accepted that sylus’s definition of ‘funny’ was vastly different from his own. most people would find it disturbing.

zayne just found it… strangely amusing.

before he could comment, however, the train made another stop—and that was when the real morning rush hit.

the doors opened, and an overwhelming surge of people flooded in.

sylus barely reacted. his red eyes flicked to the incoming crowd, then, without hesitation, he moved.

his hands landed firmly on either side of zayne’s head, pushing him back—gently, but without room for argument—until zayne was wedged between the wall and sylus’s body.

it happened too fast for zayne to process.

one second, he was standing freely. the next, sylus was so close that zayne could feel the heat of him, the faint scent of something dark and expensive—smoky cologne, maybe, or the lingering traces of a bonfire.

the world narrowed.

the weight of the crowd, the press of shoulders and elbows—none of it touched him. sylus had effectively boxed him in, shielding him from the rush of movement behind him.

zayne’s breath hitched.

too close.

too… intimate.

his back was against the wall, and sylus was right there, his taller frame bracing the space around him, arms locked on either side of his head. his silver hair fell slightly over his eyes as he glanced down, lips twitching in amusement.

“comfortable, doc?”

zayne ignored the way the tips of his ears burned.

“this is unnecessary.” his voice was calm. steady.

sylus shrugged, his lips quirking. “didn’t want you getting trampled. you looked so delicate.”

zayne shot him a withering glare. “i am not delicate.”

“mm. tell that to your ears.” sylus smirked, eyes flicking upward. “they’re looking a little… warm.”

zayne clenched his jaw. “move.”

the train jerked forward.

sylus didn’t move.

he was bracing against the momentum, effectively keeping zayne from being jostled.

and damn it—zayne hated that it worked.

he could still breathe. still stand without effort. the usual discomfort of being crammed in a packed train was nonexistent.

but at what cost?

his personal space, apparently.

sylus leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something far too smug.

“guess you do need me after all, huh?”

zayne inhaled slowly, willing away the sudden heat crawling up his spine.

the second this train reached his stop, he was walking out of this nonsense.

and if he had to shove sylus off to do it, so be it.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

it was almost comical.

the train had plenty of space today.

the morning rush had passed, leaving the carriage relatively open, with actual breathing room between passengers. no need to squeeze together. no need to shield anyone from getting shoved into a wall.

and yet—

sylus still stood right next to zayne. close enough that their shoulders brushed every time the train rocked.

zayne, who should have moved away, didn’t.

he wasn’t even thinking about it anymore.

instead, they talked like usual. sylus telling some absurd story—this time about a rival trying to poison his drink, only to get knocked out cold because sylus “accidentally” switched their glasses.

zayne gave him a dry look. “you didn’t accidentally do anything.”

sylus grinned. “yeah, but it sounds better that way.”

zayne shook his head, lips twitching slightly despite himself.

it had become normal—this easy back-and-forth. the teasing. the occasional smirk from sylus. the subtle, amused glances from zayne.

and yet, unbeknownst to either of them, they had an audience.

the regulars.

the same morning commuters who had seen them together day after day, train ride after train ride.

some of them had taken notice early on—back when sylus first started showing up, back when he would press a little too close, and zayne would look thoroughly done with his existence.

but somewhere along the way, things changed.

the stoic doctor, once so visibly exasperated, now smiled—small, barely there, but there.

the silver-haired troublemaker, once so obnoxious, now spoke softer sometimes, more casual, less for show.

and through it all, neither of them seemed to realize just how obvious they had become.

a few passengers exchanged knowing looks.

a young woman nudged her friend. “they’re here again.”

a middle-aged man, sipping his coffee, sighed. “young people these days...”

an older lady smiled fondly, watching them chat as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

none of them said a word to the two men, of course. but the collective sentiment was clear:

this was a thing.

a slow, oblivious, painfully obvious thing.

but zayne and sylus?

they didn’t notice.

didn’t notice the glances, the smirks, the fond amusement of those who had grown way too invested in their morning train dynamic.

they just kept talking. kept standing close, even when they didn’t have to.

and when the train reached zayne’s stop, sylus, like always, leaned in slightly and murmured, “try not to overwork yourself, babe.”

zayne sighed. “stop calling me that.”

he still didn’t move away.

and as he stepped off, the doors closing behind him, a regular passenger let out an exasperated groan.

“for the love of god, how long is this gonna take?”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the train was nearly empty at this hour.

late nights meant dim lights, soft hums of the engine, and the occasional quiet passenger staring out the window, lost in their own world.

zayne stepped in, tired. he didn’t expect to see sylus tonight. it was late—far later than usual—and even he wouldn’t expect the man to wait this long.

wouldn’t blame him if he had already left.

it was… a bit sad, thinking about it.

but he wasn’t unreasonable.

so imagine his surprise when his gaze landed on a familiar figure, sitting comfortably in their usual spot.

sylus looked up, smirking as if he had always been there, as if he hadn’t been waiting far longer than necessary.

“you didn’t think i’d leave, did you?” he drawled, resting his chin on his hand. “i still have a lot to tell you about my day.”

zayne exhaled, stepping closer. “…if it’s another story about how you almost got yourself killed, i’m not interested.”

“tough luck.” sylus patted the seat beside him. “you still have to listen to it either way.”

zayne sat down.

and like always, sylus started talking—about absurd incidents, things he found amusing, things that would’ve unsettled anyone else but only earned an unimpressed sigh from zayne.

but tonight, something was different.

maybe it was the late hour.

maybe it was the low timbre of sylus’s voice, unusually soothing in the quiet of the near-empty train.

maybe it was exhaustion finally catching up to him.

because at some point, as sylus kept talking, zayne felt his body relax, his eyes growing heavier.

then—before he even realized it—his head dipped slightly, coming to rest against sylus’s shoulder.

the warmth was unexpected.

the scent, familiar.

sylus stilled for a moment, looking down at him.

then, a soft huff of amusement.

“you’ll miss your stop at this rate,” sylus murmured, voice quieter now.

zayne shifted slightly but didn’t move away. half-asleep, he muttered, “…but you’ll wake me up, won’t you?”

sylus didn’t answer immediately.

instead, he reached out—lightly brushing back a few stray strands of zayne’s dark hair, careful, almost absentminded.

a small smile tugged at his lips.

“you didn't have to ask.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the moment zayne had been dreading had finally arrived.

his car would be ready tomorrow. no more crowded train rides, no more navigating through morning rush hour, no more being sandwiched between strangers.

it was what he wanted, right?

then why did something about leaving this routine make him hesitate?

had he really grown so used to it? the push and pull of the daily commute, the press of the crowd, the steady rhythm of the train carrying him forward?

or was it sylus?

zayne glanced at the man beside him, listening—half-distracted, half-attentive—to whatever nonsense he was spouting now.

before he could think too hard about it, the words slipped out.

"i'm driving to work starting tomorrow."

sylus paused. just for a fraction of a second. his smile didn’t fade, but something in his expression stilled. then, just as quickly, he let out a soft chuckle.

"i guess your car is all fixed then? that's good." he leaned back slightly, tilting his head. "next time you run into a problem, don’t hesitate to reach out."

zayne gave him a skeptical look. "you know how to fix cars?"

"i know a thing or two," sylus said, smirking. "free of charge, of course. except… maybe one favor."

zayne raised an eyebrow. "that is…?"

"dinner with me."

sylus smiled—not his usual cocky smirk, but something softer. "what do you say?"

zayne opened his mouth. then closed it.

what… was he supposed to say?

"but you didn’t even fix my car."

sylus shrugged. "but i kept you company, didn’t i?"

"by force."

"still. you enjoyed it, didn’t you?"

zayne clicked his tongue, turning his gaze away. he didn’t have an answer for that.

then the train slowed. another stop. the doors slid open.

sylus stepped off, turning back to look at him.

"don’t tell me you think this is goodbye." his red eyes glinted, full of mischief. "just because your car is fixed doesn’t mean i’ll stop seeing you."

zayne frowned slightly. "…you still want to see me?"

he wasn’t sure why he asked. he wasn’t sure why it mattered.

"why?" he murmured.

sylus huffed a quiet laugh. "who knows… do you wanna help me figure it out?"

he reached out a hand. waiting.

zayne stiffened. his heart picked up an odd, unfamiliar rhythm.

was sylus serious? or was this just another one of his games?

but before he could respond, before he could process the weight of the moment—

"oh, for crying out loud—just go already!"

a chorus of groans and exasperated sighs came from the passengers around him.

and then—

a push.

a light one, but enough to send him stumbling forward.

zayne barely had time to register the fall before he was caught—strong arms steadying him, pulling him close.

too close.

his face hovered far too near to sylus’s.

"wha—"

the train doors slid closed behind him.

and then—

applause.

whistling.

cheering.

"finally!" someone groaned.

"took them long enough!"

zayne turned bright red.

"i am never using public transport again," he grumbled, his forehead pressing against sylus’s shoulder in sheer mortification.

"could be worse." sylus chuckled, one arm still draped around him.

then he leaned in, lowering his voice just enough for only zayne to hear.

"so… date?"

zayne slowly lifted his head, meeting his gaze.

"depends," he muttered. "is there a hitman after your life this time?"

sylus grinned, pulling him just a little closer.

"no," he murmured. "just one that’s after my heart."

he tilted his head.

"and i already have him in my arms."

[hahjsshnanans772]

stupid fucking itrapped with his stupid ass crown I am quitting drawing in the big 2025 expect no more tickle art from me. /j

Anyways! Hopping up and down in joy because im writing taph headcanons! Also taph with owl features is canon the owner of forsaken said that to me in my dream. Looks ahead as I get pelted with tomatoes

—

GENERAL ;

- 75% Ler | 25% Lee, I know…, my second headcanons post and. And they’re all LERS!!!!! AGHH!!!!

- REALLY prefers being a ler, mostly because he can’t properly communicate when tickled. And he just finds it kinda. Icky feeling at times

- Absolutely tickles the hell out of Dusekarr, and the exact same happens to him when the latter wants revenge! scary!

- #has wings and claws and #uses them

- also considering he’s a suffer in silence type of guy, he’s not really all that keen on platonic physical affection when he’s in a bad mood. Boo let yourself be free! That’s why he’s a target for comfort tickles

—

LEE ;

- despite literally being a massive ler, he’s still stupidly ticklish

- said ticklish spots are his back and sides! Really anywhere close to his wings are ticklish.. which means ticklish face cheeks. Peak!

- ohhhh did I mention his stupidly ticklish back and face wings. Poor boy. And they fluff up and flutter aswell!!! aw!!!! Sorry I love him, also hides his face behind his wings when being tickled!

- unironically a squirmer, literally gets into half wrestling matches with his lers because of how bad it tickles. #howtogainablackeye. Looking at you chance

- Really light and sweet giggles, he can laugh just as loud as the rest of the survivors, but doesn’t really like hearing it. Also chirps and coos. But you have to like. Have super awesome hearing to even register it

- Compliment teases absolutely melt this stupid boy!!!! he cannot take any compliments, but any other teases used on him are just. Not that affective

- also an accidental puncher. Literally almost knocked the air out of builderman when he was rubbing their upper back. Supportive dad of the group gets punched in the big 2025

- HATES being pinned down for easier tickling or having his arms held. You either deal with the guy that can almost wrestle a solider. Or you do not tickle him at all!

- but he absolutely loves the tickling spells dusekkar can cast. Literally purposefully annoys him for tickles. Always works. Dusekkar can not say no to him

- overall! He is a challenge to tickle, but high risk equals a high reward! Prefers to burrow in his blankets and pillows after being tickled. Usually alone to think. And sometimes cuddle with his ler.

—

LER ;

- EVIL. EVIL AND MALICIOUS.

- like I said. He has wings! And when you have wings with feathers! it’s basically a game over for his lee! What!

- also has claws! literally made guest 1337 scream like an absolute GIRL!!!! thats also how everyone found out he had ticklish knee pits.. or the soft skin around the back of the knee. Whatever

- considering he’s mute, he goes for physical teases. Which is basically being a massive asshole and making his tickles stupid slow and soft. Literally always expect anticipation from him

- prefers medium paced tickles, ones not too soft, but not too rough that it would leave nail marks. He’s evil! Not a monster! But it’s up to his lee if they want the former or latter

- Dusekkar. Pumpkin guy is lee #1 when taph is in a ler mood! Thats all

- still hides his face when tickling others, adds onto his mysterious ler stature. Shivers. Doesn’t work on dusekkar or builderman tho, they literally already have to deal with another evil bird man

- gossips about others tickle spots with shedletsky. Considering that both of them are evil. And both can understand sign language. Wow. Smart shedletsky

- aftercare is cuddling. Nothing else. Expect to be cuddled for the next four hours, also likes to loosen the knots in his lees hair. Cough cough two-time being purposely targeted

//

this is properly also most likely ooc, but let’s. Be honest here! Taph’s personality is. Kinda wired, I also see taph as not being as soft and kind as a lot of people think he is. Considering he’s a grown man who worked with explosives and the government . Cough. With Builderman COUGH COUGH.

I see, him as touch-starved in a way, but like. Not in the way where most fanfic writers make him absolutely crave touch like he’s dying. Especially from builderman. But because of his mysterious and possibly unnerving nature that makes him kinda unapproachable. He’s like two-time but minus their craziness and love for their wired ass cult

also didn’t mention his abilities. Didn’t see how’d they fit, even then, taph doesn’t use any of his equipment like his tripwire to tie others up, he prefers to just use his wings and claws.

anyways tell me if I should more headcanons or no. Your choice! Not mine

[anything-pov]

can u write a fic where penelope is sitting on reader chest on bed doing their makeup for fun

kisses

fluff

domesticated

they have a cat 

Enjoy 😉

The Brushes

The sheets were still warm. Tangled. Lived in. Penelope Garcia sat perched on Y/N’s hips, her robe clinging to one shoulder and doing very little else to hide the masterpiece that was her soft, plush body.

Her thighs cradled Y/N, her favourite highlighter brush poised in one hand and her makeup palette dangerously balanced on Y/N’s chest.

At the foot of the bed, their cat, Basil, watched with half lidded judgement, tail flicking lazily. He was an absurdly fluffy ginger Maine Coon with a penchant for expensive throw pillows and batting at makeup brushes.

He had claimed Y/N’s side of the bed when they weren’t in it, and currently had his head draped over one of their discarded shirts like it was a royal pillow.

“Don’t even think about knocking that brush off,” Garcia said to Basil with a pointed look, even as her fingers titled Y/N’s chin toward her.

“And you… stay still, gorgeous. You’re about to be elevated.” Garcia smiled, Y/N grinning, hair tousled, their tattoos a map of stories across their chest.

They lay back with one hand behind their head and the other tracing idle, electric shapes into the curve of Garcia’s thigh.

“I am still. You’re the one grinding every time you shift.” Y/N mumbled, Penelope gave them a scandalised gasp, though the smirk on her lips betrayed her.

“That is slander, I’m sitting. Artistically.” Penelope giggled, Y/N shaking their head, “You’re sitting sexily, and you know it.”

Their voice was low, morning-scratchy, laced with warmth. She could feel their hands sliding slowly up her outer thighs, thumbs sweeping just under the hem of her robe.

Penelope���s breath caught slightly, but she kept her composure, tilting their face again. “Don’t distract the artist,” she murmured, brushing shimmer over their cheekbone with a feather light stroke.

“I’ll mess up and Basil will look even more disappointed in us than he already does.” She joked, her tongue poking out gently in focus.

From the foot of the bed, Basil gave a faint trill, as if in response. “He’s judging us,” Y/N said seriously. “He always is,” Garcia replied.

“He’s lived a life of crime and drama, and now he thinks our bedroom antics are beneath him.” The blonde joked, Y/N huffing a laugh.

Their hand drifted a little higher, ghosting along her waist with a teasing touch, “Maybe he just wants to be included.”

“If he tries to climb on this bed right now, I’m disowning him.” Garcia pretend seethed, Y/N laughing, head tilting back slightly, Penelope using the opportunity to sneak a kiss to their jaw before fishing the liner.

Sharp, smudged just right, giving their eyes a smokey frame that made her heart skip a beat. She reached for the burgundy lipstick next, murmuring, “Now, the finishing touch. The mouth I’ve kissed twenty-seven times today..”

Y/N smirked, “Twenty-nine. You missed two.” Garcia gave a small, delighted noise and leaned in, brushing their lips with hers before applying the deep, sinful colour.

Their fingers never stopped moving, soft along the insides of Garcia’s thighs, gripping just enough to make her hips roll slightly without thinking.

“There,” the blonde whispered, “You’re lethal.” They smiled, slow and wide, “Your turn.” Garcia quirked a brow and tilted her head, “You want to do my makeup?”

“No. I want to do you again, but I’ll settle for painting your face. For now…”

She burst into giggles, head dropping to their shoulder. “You menace.” Y/N kissed her temple, hand sliding up to rest warmly at her waist, “I’m your menace, darling.”

At the end of the bed, Basil sneeze once, yawned, and rolled over onto his back in a soft pile of fluff and disdain. Garcia looked at him, then down at Y/N beneath her.

“Our little family is so weird.”

“The weirdest,” they agreed, catching her hand to kiss her knuckles.

“And the happiest.”

[xoxochb]

soft/girl dad! rafe I love you this will cure my baby fever

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“give her your finger back!”

“what— no, she bit me!”

you throw a pointed look towards rafe and scoop your baby into your arms. she had begun to let out soft, barely audible cries after he had taken his finger out of her mouth. she did not like that very much.

“here, my love.”

you seat the baby on your tummy with her back against your thighs. from here, you let her gnaw on your finger now to soothe her cries. they turn into quiet hiccups gradually. you exhale when she is content.

“she’s dramatic.” rafe pokes her tiny head. you slap his hand lightly.

“she’s not dramatic, she has big feelings,” you correct. you place a kiss to the spot he had poked.

“she’s six months old how big could her feelings possibly be?”

“well—” you ponder. “well she’s only a baby and you have to be nice.”

rafe smirks and lays back against the bed, hands behind his head. “I am nice.”

“you upset her. say sorry to her.”

you remove your finger from the infant’s mouth and hold her out to her father. he takes her from your hold and lays her along his torso. his mouth finds her head in a feather-light kiss.

the baby’s tiny hands reach for his face as she babbles incoherently, a smile wide gracing her lips.

“look, she’s smiling, I am nice.”

your face is unamused. “okay.”

rafe brings the baby’s head back to his lips twice more. she begins to giggle at the affection.

“don’t get her too riled up, she has to take a nap soon.”

“she’ll be fine.” he ignores your words and continues playing with the child.

you sigh and slide downwards to rest on your side. you tuck your hands beneath the side of your head and admire the scene unfolding before you. a smile appears over your mouth. you bite down on your bottom lip.

you slide in closer to your husband and your child until deemed physically impossibly to go any farther. you allow your head to rest upon rafe’s shoulder. the baby squeals when you reach her line of sight, one of her tiny hands finding your face as well. you place a kiss to her little fist.

and not much to your surprise, with the stimulation of both her father and mother playing with her she was unable to nap that afternoon.

[arminsumi]

Hmmm... thinking very amorous thoughts about overworked!Gojo right now...

Satoru's eyes show his slow aging; they're so narrowed and tired when he comes home from work as he's kicking off his shoes in the entrance — but then the corners of his eyes soften when they catch on your face. Oh, you. Oh, his sweet-faced baby.

His stress-induced scowl after a long day disappears and he shines his pearly whites at you. "Baby," he feathers, coming down to kiss you, spine arching at an almost hilariously exaggerated curve. You're liplocked by a pair of eager, wet lips right after welcoming him home. He melts against you. "Fuck, today dragged on forever... missed you so bad..." and you giggle in reply, "Yeah? Does my choo-choo train need a massage?"

He groans; you've nicknamed him 'choo choo train' because when he arrives home from work, he always lets out this sigh like a steam engine. If you listen closely you can hear the brakes squealing to a halt.

Overworked!Gojo doesn't want to do anything when he comes home from work except hold you; in the hallway, his big hands are squeezing tenderly at your hips and massaging up your back while he kisses you with a slow tilt to the side — totally zoned out on the feeling of his lips gliding over yours, you trail your delicate touch up the back of his neck and graze over his undercut. He lets out a whimper of relief, like all he's needed all day was your loving touch and now he finally has it.

Overworked!Gojo's voice has a crackly rasp when he's tired that tickles your brain; he's teasing you about how despite being in your thirties, you still giggle the same as you did when you were 16. And with that, he's getting all nostalgic. "I remember being too shy to approach you, so I'd ask Suguru to initiate a conversation — don't laugh at me! Yeah, but I was just pretending to be cool. When I was around you I was always burning up like I had a fever. Yeah, actually..." he lowers his voice into a flirty purr and brings you close, nose tip nudging your temple as he grins down at you, "... now that I think 'bout it, you still get me burnin' to a fever."

You giggle and shake your head at your silly husband, "You're so fucking cheesy, 'Toru."

"Cheesy?! I'll show you cheesy, c'mere."

"Ewww!"

"Hold still."

"Gross! 'Toru — 'Toru stoppit!"

He's giving you purposefully wet kisses all over, leaving slick trails all over your face — something he's always done as a sort of 'punishment' when you call him cheesy or psycho or diabolical.

[plutotheplum]

His Eyes All Over Me

sylus x fem!reader

summary: ever since experiencing sylus' frenzy, you find yourself feeling strange. it all comes to a head after your movie date.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blow job, p in v, knotting, scent kink, praise kink, breeding kink, aftercare, brief switch!sylus

w/c: 6.1k

a/n: guys idk what happened all of a sudden i was possessed and the breeding kink just appeared <3

also on ao3!

I know exactly what it means, which is why I’m accepting this.

Sylus’ cryptic words leave you confused as the movie ends. It wasn’t even meant to mean anything in particular, although perhaps that was just you convincing yourself that you were in total control of this situation. You were giving the feather to him as a kind gesture, nothing more. 

… Fuck, had he seen it as more? 

A dull throb spreads out from across your temples, your fingers itching to pull out your phone and simply search up whatever it is he meant.

Why did feelings have to be so complicated? 

You bite back a groan, slumping back in the car seat, an irritated look passing over your face.

“Something wrong?” Sylus’ smooth voice cuts through the silence, his eyes glancing towards you as he drives.

“No,” you manage out, trying to stop your voice from dipping into a grumble. You sneak a glance at his face, only to find your gaze dipping to observe the way his long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearms flexing with every move after he’d rolled up his jacket sleeves.

Ever since you’d managed to stop him from descending into a Praedator’s Frenzy, you’d found yourself suffering from a strange affliction. Yes, you had been terrified when you were trapped in that large birdcage with him, panic racing through your body as you tried to stop his sanity from unravelling any further and yet… you’d been embarrassingly aroused.

The way his teeth had sunk into your earlobe, his fangs scraping and vicious against the delicate skin of your neck. You had liked it in some sick sense. The heat that pooled between your thighs was because of Sylus, his feral nature and tight grip on your hips had made your mind swirl, his low, rasping voice, the slight rut of his hips into your ass- 

You needed a cold shower. One with actual ice, preferably.

The car rumbles to a stop, and you get out agitatedly, cursing under your breath when you realize Sylus was following you in, up to your apartment. It isn’t hard for you to notice that Sylus has taken note of your change in behavior, his hands shoving into his pockets as he stares at you.

“Something is wrong,” Sylus muses, tilting his head in a searching manner. “What? You didn’t enjoy the movie?”

“It was fine,” you reply shortly, playing with your fingers. “I think I’m coming down with something.” A blatant lie to a man who probably knew you better than you knew yourself. You clear your throat, coughing a little exaggeratedly. “A cold.”

“A cold,” he echoes, dipping his head to stare down at you scrutinizingly. You yelp when he grabs at your wrist, his fingers pressing against your pulse point. Sylus’ eyes darken, his playful expression fading as his lips thin, his voice a low hiss. “Liar.”

“That’s-” you grumble, pulling your wrist free from his grasp, “that’s unfair.”

He stares down at you for a moment longer, his eyes searching. You squirm under his gaze, heart fluttering a little when he cocks his head to the side before straightening up.

“If you didn’t enjoy my company, you should’ve just said so,” Sylus drawls, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath as you step out the elevator. “I wasn’t lying because I didn’t enjoy your company.”

Your current predicament was actually because of the contrary; you were finding that you were enjoying his company a little too much. You kick your shoes off when you get inside, hearing the soft lock of the door as Sylus closes it behind him. 

When he stares at you blankly, you shoot him an unimpressed look, gesturing towards your couch. “Make yourself at home, Sylus.”

“I don’t remember my former roommate being so… cruel,” he sighs, sounding aggrieved. “Especially after rewarding me with such a heartfelt gift.” Sylus grins devilishly, his lips curving upwards, eyes glinting with amusement. 

You flush, cheeks feeling hot with embarrassment.

“Whatever you think it means,” you snap, glaring at him in an attempt to hide your own flusteredness, “it doesn’t mean that. I was being nice, okay? Because I am a nice person!”

“Right,” Sylus laughs lowly. It’s a derisive sound, mocking and aggravating enough to have you bristling with anger. You watch as he moves until he’s leaning against the back of the couch, his ankles crossed over each other, arms crossed over his chest. “You were being nice.”

“I was!” you protest, body growing warmer. “You’re just being weird and- and sauve because-” 

“Because?” Sylus presses, narrowing his eyes.

“Because you have a crush on me!”

Shit, shit, shit. 

You don’t even know where the outburst came from, but your hand is slapping over your mouth as you stare at Sylus, feeling utterly mortified. You were totally projecting.

“A crush,” he echoes, clicking his tongue as he examines you.

“I- I didn’t mean that,” you blurt out, voice all pitchy and panicky. “I only meant that-”

You squeak when he reaches you in a few measured strides, his calloused fingers squishing your cheeks together until your lips pucker out like a fish. 

“No?” Sylus murmurs, raising his brows, “pray tell, Miss Enforcer, what did you mean?”

“I… I don’t know?” you offer meekly, fidgeting under his grip, desperate to be let free.

Sylus’ nose nudging against your cheek causes you to stiffen, his fingers loosening their grip on you to instead stroke across the skin of your jaw. You let out a soft noise when he cups your cheek, his hands maneuvering your head until his nose grazes across the length of your neck, his breath hot as it fans across your skin.

“And if I did?” he asks, pressing himself closer, arm dropping to wrap around your waist tightly. “Have a… crush as you say.”

“Then- then-” you struggle to form a sentence, biting your lip to muffle any more damning noises that could be used against you.

“Then?” Sylus cajoles, his voice low and lilting, nose pressing firmly into your throat as he sucks in a sharp breath, savoring your scent.

“Then that would be embarrassing!”

You shove at his chest, stumbling a bit, still hazy from his closeness and intimate ministrations. Sylus holds you in place with his gaze, his arms crossing over his chest and you swallow down an indecent sound when you see the slight flex of his biceps underneath the fabric of his jacket.

The kitchen counter grounds you, your fingers pressing against the cool marble. It feels hard to breathe, and rather you’re the embarrassing one, having lost your nerve the moment he had gotten too close.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” Sylus asks, cocking his head to the side, his shoulders rolling lazily. 

“Notice what?” you shoot back, grasping for a glass and filling it up with water before chugging it down rapidly.

“Stop playing stupid,” he replies, his grin mirthless. “I smelt it on you the moment you stepped into that birdcage with me.”

Now he was saying you smelt bad? 

“Smelt what?” you scoff, partially offended. You turn your head, angling it down towards your shoulder, trying to sniff yourself subtly. 

Sure, maybe you were a little sweaty, but he was making you nervous! You frown at Sylus, and he rolls his eyes, his hand reaching out to grip your chin, tilting your head upwards, towards him.

“Your arousal,” Sylus rasps, his eyes pinning you in place. “Wetness, slick, whatever you wish to call it. I can smell it, Miss Enforcer.”

Your face pales, humiliation washing over your expression, stomach twisting uncomfortably with embarrassment. Whatever thoughts are currently occupying your mind fizzle away, replaced by a sense of overwhelming mortification. 

You open your mouth to respond and clamp it back shut, thinking better of it lest you embarrass yourself any further. Perhaps there was no point to having a sense of dignity, seeing as Sylus had clearly torn it to shreds. 

“The Frenzy Enhancer doesn’t only enhance a Praedator’s Frenzy,” Sylus murmurs, tugging your head back when you avert your gaze, forcing you to meet his eyes. “It heightens our senses; for the purpose of making it all the more agonizing when one is deprived of delivering a bite.”

The LCBI had neglected to include that little fact in your training. You swallow nervously when his thumb traces down your cheek, over your jaw and presses against the jumpy pulse in your throat.

“Even now,” he continues, his other hand fisting your hair to tug your head back further. You yelp at the pain that sears across your scalp, fingers scrabbling at his chest as he presses his nose to your throat and inhales again. “You’re enjoying this, Miss Enforcer.”

“I- I am not!” you protest, doing your best to sound offended and hide the traitorous heat that was currently swirling low in your stomach with every fan of his breath against your skin. “Your nerves are clearly misfiring; d- damaged probably,” you sputter, “after your Frenzy.”

Sylus laughs hoarsely, his eyes lighting up and you know your pathetic excuse hasn’t worked.

“Stop fighting this,” he says, still sounding amused, his eyes softening slightly when he sees how flustered you’ve become. “You don’t stand to gain anything from pushing me away. Haven’t I made my intentions clear?”

“It’s complicated,” you murmur, “you’re- you’re you-”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, raising his brows.

You huff out an aggravated breath, refusing to be cornered.

“Nothing. I only reacted that way because you seemed awfully wanton in that birdcage,” you hiss heatedly, waving your hands about. “Not to mention uninhibited.” 

“I was hit with a Frenzy Enhancer,” Sylus snaps, his fists clenching. “Yes, I was uninhibited, but I was not wanton.”

Your lips purse as you consider Sylus’ response, remembering the way he had arched his back in his frenzy, the subtle buck of his hips when you’d placed your hand on his pec. Not to mention the groaning and well… whimpering. The feeling of his teeth on your ear hadn’t exactly helped in the moment either. 

There’s an itch in you to get the last word in.

“You were wanton,” you argue, shooting him a stubborn look.

“I could have killed you,” Sylus murmurs dangerously, reaching out to grab your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Sometimes a bite isn’t enough. I could have torn you apart, limb by limb until you were all but a severed, bleeding mess on the cold floor. Would you have liked that?”

You can’t say you would’ve, remembering the Praedator attack all those years, but this Sylus and there’s a foolish part of you that hopes that he would have been able to reign in his base desires.

“I’m still in one piece,” you mumble out, “besides, I know how to handle myself.” You sneak a glance down at the way his hands are holding yours, lips pursing as you feel the warmth of skin bleeding into yours. It’s too much for your poor heart, really. “You can let go now.”

“No,” he says quietly, his voice softer as he dips his head, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “I know you want this. I want this.”

You bite your lip at the pleading tone in his voice, heart stuttering in your chest. Sylus’ voice seems to wrap around you, and you peer up at him when he presses his forehead against yours, letting out a heavy exhale.

“Are you going to make me beg, hm?” Sylus muses, a smile pulling at his lips when he sees your lips twitch. “Please?” he whispers, his voice low and soft and somehow the sweetest you’ve ever heard Sylus. “I’ll be good, Miss Enforcer. Please?”

An incoherent noise escapes you, fingers tightening into his jacket as he steps closer, his body flush against yours.

“Will you let me have you?” he whispers, nosing into your cheek. “...Or perhaps you don’t want me to ask. Maybe you want me to lose control like I did in that birdcage. Growling and snapping and feral.”

Sylus was driving you insane. Your body feels hot, mind blank as a shaky breath escapes you when he grazes his fangs against your neck, his breath hot. You can feel how sticky your panties have become, thighs pressing together to try and soothe the ache of your cunt, aware of the overwhelming emptiness of it.

“Do you deny it, sweetness?”

“No,” you concede, your voice trembling, “no, I don’t.”

He hums, nudging impossibly closer, tongue darting out to lave over the erratic pump of blood in your throat. You open your mouth, a quiet mewl leaving you as he smiles against your skin, his lips pressing a heated kiss to your sensitive skin.

“Is that so?” Sylus muses, his hands drifting down to grasp your hips. “Such a shame you’ve waited so long to confess,” he continues, his voice low and purring, “had you asked me earlier, I would have given you my cock; no questions asked.”

“You- you would have?” you ask, your voice strangled as he kisses your neck again.

You can hardly catch up with what’s happening when he spins you around in his arms, his chest flush against your back, arms wrapping around your waist tightly.

“Yes,” he soothes, his fingers wrapping around your throat to tip your head back against his chest. “So many opportunities wasted,” he sighs, clicking his tongue. “I could have had you bouncing on my cock days ago, had my tongue buried inside of you, pounded into you until you were crying, bred you on my knot-”

“K- knot?” you squeak, head snapping to meet his eyes, “I thought that was a myth.”

“Hardly a myth,” he sighs, fingers dipping lower, delving under your skirt, “Praedators have knots, sweetness; intended to-” you gasp when he presses the pads of his fingers against your damp panties, stroking gently, “intended to lock us together.” Sylus smiles against your cheek, revelling in your wetness that was soaking through. He increases the pressure of his fingers, rubbing harder. “And I fully intend to knot you, Miss Enforcer,” he whispers, lips drifting across your cheek in a fleeting kiss. “Oh, don’t look so scandalized. You’ll be begging to be bred the moment I cum inside of you.”

Begging to be bred? Cumming inside? He was going to cum inside? You were most definitely going to die tonight; although perhaps part of you was resigned to your fate, his obscene words making you greedy and leaving you wanting more. 

“Please,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his hand, grasping at his wrist to press his fingers against your clothed pussy more firmly. “I- I want that.”

Sylus lets out a hoarse grown at your whimpered confession, his fingers tugging your panties to the side.

“You’re dripping,” he hisses, fingers sliding through your puffy folds, “so, so wet, baby. Smells like you’re in heat.”

You really had to do more research on Praedators. Maybe you were in heat with how bold you had become, no longer stifling your noises, too far gone to care.

“That’s it,” Sylus rasps, rubbing your slick over your folds before sliding his fingers up to rub against your swollen clit. “Oh, it must ache,” he coos, beginning to rub tight circles against the throbbing bud, “I can feel how needy you are.”

Your head bobs up and down in rapid nods, ass pushing back into him as you rock your hips, whining when he circles your clit and squeezes your throat at the same time.

“Oh- oh fuck-” you mewl when he hunches over you a little, his breath quickening as he presses his hips into your ass like he had done a few nights ago in that birdcage. “Sylus!”

“So wet,” he mutters as though in a trance, his chin resting on your shoulder, fingers speeding up. “Shall I give you my fingers, baby, hm?”

“Y- yes,” you whine, dragging out the word into a low hiss, your nails digging into his forearm.

A sharp gasp leaves you when he eases one finger in, another following suit quickly after. It’s nothing like the feel of your own fingers, Sylus’ are longer and reach much, much deeper. You feel full already, head dropping forward as you moan raggedly, pushing at his hand to try and stuff his fingers inside of you even more.

“Greedy little slut,” he growls, his fingers crooking inside of you, “so needy and wanton, aren’t you? Pushing me away when what you really want is this - my fingers inside of you, my hand wrapped around your throat, my cock rutting into your ass.”

“I do,” you hiccup, mouth dropping open as you continue to moan, hips swaying back to meet his rutting, the everpresent press of his hard cock against you making your cunt drip with arousal. “Ah hah- I do want this.”

“Yes, you do,” he whispers raspingly. “Take what you need then, baby, take my fucking fingers.”

And you do take his fingers with soft cries and needy gasps and desperate whimpers. Sylus quickens his pace, tightening the hold he has on your throat when you try to squirm away, the lewd sounds of pussy embarrassing in the quietness of your apartment. He breathes heavily against your ear, panting as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, his hand turning slightly to add his thumb to the mix.

You arch your back against him when he rubs your clit, turning your head into the crook of his neck, mewling as you try and bounce, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. Sylus snarls when you clench down on his fingers tightly, his face pressing into your neck, fangs digging into your skin as he leaves harsh, biting kisses. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you begin to chant, your hand sliding into his hair, fisting it and tugging as you roll your hips needily, panting raggedly. “‘m gonna ah- ‘m gonna cum, Sylus.”

“Yeah?” he rasps, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, careful to not let his fangs sink in too deep. “Cum on my fingers then, grind that wet, little pussy all over my hand and cum, baby.”

A sharp gasp leaves you, fingers clutching at his wrist when he fucks his fingers into your pussy faster, his thumb unrelenting on your swollen clit. You moan brokenly when he kisses your neck, tipping your head to the side to bare more of your neck to him. Sylus growls, his kisses trailing upwards, his lips soft behind your ear.

You cry out when he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, feeling the way his fangs bite into the delicate bone of your ear. It’s just like in the birdcage, you think dazedly. He ruts into your ass harder, and the ragged panting coming from him is enough to make you come undone. You try to steady yourself, but it’s impossible with the way your thighs tremble, head tossing back as you cum around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he breathes out when you shudder and quake in his arms, his grip tightening to prevent you from falling when your knees buckle. Sylus kisses your cheek, dragging his lips to pepper soft kisses along your jaw as you ride out the last few waves of your orgasm, his fingers still stroking over your clit gently as your cunt clenches. “Good girl, sweetness, you did so well for me.”

Chest rising and falling rapidly, you drop your head back against his chest, leaning against Sylus for support. You whine softly when he pulls his fingers free, his hands petting over your skirt as he smooths it down over your thighs.

On shaky legs, you turn, arms wrapping around his neck. He hugs you closer, his head lowering as his nose brushes against yours gently.

“Be mine.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses you, deep and longing. He squeezes at your waist and your hands drift, from his shoulders to his cheeks, cupping them to bring him closer, to kiss him more desperately.

Both of you stumble into the kitchen table, Sylus’ hands landing on either side of you as he deepens the kiss. You whine when he licks at your lower lip, mouth opening obediently for him. He groans and you let your hands drift, pawing at his trousers, palming at the material to feel the hard bulge of his cock, hot and thick and throbbing faintly against your hand through the layers of fabric. 

“I want it,” you whisper against his lips, kissing him feverishly. “I want your cock, Sylus. I- I want you to-” you can hardly believe you’re about to say this, but the thought of it ignites a heat inside of you, an overwhelming need to be completely at his mercy. “I want you to breed me.” 

His crimson eyes flare, hands reaching out towards you, pulling your shirt up over your head. You make an indignant sound when he hurriedly pulls your bra off, moaning in succession when he pinches your stiffened nipples.

“I can do that,” he murmurs, pulling at your skirt and panties too, until you’re bare. “I’ll breed you, baby.”

A laugh bubbles out of you when he picks you up, arms wrapping around his neck and legs around his waist. Sylus’ steps are practised as he strides into your bedroom, tossing you onto your bed. You bounce a little, regaining your balance before crawling towards him, nuzzling into the bulge of his cock.

“‘s big, Sylus,” you whisper, watching with hazy eyes as he pulls his jacket and shirt off in a smooth motion, his defined abdomen on display. You tug at his belt and he tugs it free, pushing his trousers and boxers down to reveal his cock.

It’s thicker than you’ve seen before, the tip of it blushed angrily, pre-cum smeared across the head. Your mouth waters, inching closer to run your tongue against the length of his cock, mewling softly at the heady taste as you trace your tongue across a prominent vein on the underside.

Your brows furrow when you run your tongue along the length again, pulling back to find a swollen ridge at the base of his cock. His knot. 

“Can I touch it?” you whisper curiously, head tilting to get a closer look.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, fingers spreading out across your scalp, scratching gently.

It’s strange, you think. A little puffier and thicker than his actual cock, darker in color too. You press your fingers against it gently and it gives just a bit under your prodding. You sneak a glance up at Sylus and he raises his brows, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“It’ll feel good inside of you,” he promises self-assuredly, “swells up when- oh fuck-”

His breath stutters when you mouth at his knot, tongue laving over the sensitive spot as you squirm, kissing his knot. You lick over the ridge again, smiling to yourself when Sylus’ thighs twitch. His hand pushes at your head subtly when you focus on his cock again, a quiet breathy sound escaping him, enough to have you perking up and your pussy clenching. You want him as needy as he had you.

“You said you’d be good,” you coo, leaning forward to brush a kiss to his hip, your head dipping again to nuzzle against his cock.

“I- nghhh-” Sylus stammers, his cheeks flushed a light pink when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to suck lazily. “I- I am being good.”

You hum happily, pressing your head forward, swallowing down more of his cock.

“Fuck-” he breathes out, his hands petting at your hair, pushing down gently to make you take his cock further, until it’s stuffed down your throat and your nose is buried into the snowy hair at the base of his cock. “Feels- ah- feels so good, sweetness.”

You smile when he lets you pull off, lapping at the tip of his cock teasingly, your hand reaching up to squeeze his pec. Sylus swears, his back arching at the action, a soft whine spilling out of him.

“You like this,” you muse, dipping your head to suckle at his balls, relishing in the noises he lets out, watching his thighs tremble. You stare up at him hazily, tongue lolling out for him when he grasps his cock, his hand squeezing at his knot, his knuckles white with tension.

Your fingers pinch at his nipple greedily when he presses his cock back in and you squeal, the sound muffled around the thickness of his cock when he tugs harshly at your own nipple in retaliation. 

“Brat,” he mutters, pushing your head down further, grunting softly when you dig your nails into his thighs and swallow around his cock.

“I thought you were being good,” you whine when he tugs at your hair, dipping his head to kiss you eagerly, his tongue licking into your mouth. You pout when he pulls away, feeling betrayed by the shortness of his submission. 

“Sorry, doll,” Sylus says, petting your head and rewarding you with another kiss; this time softer and sweeter, his lips lingering. 

You let him kiss you in your dazed state, and Sylus takes advantage, crawling over you, his hands kneading at the fat of your thighs. Your bed is already messy, the sheets rumpling as he jostles you a bit, patting your thigh to make you move further up on the bed.

Sylus settles between your thighs, his cock hot and heavy against your stomach as he drops his weight onto you, his hands finding yours before pinning them above your head. You sigh into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into your ass when he rolls his hips, grinding his bare cock against your pussy.

“I like these,” he mumbles when he kisses down your chest and noses into your breasts. An airy noise sounds when he sucks a hardened nipple into his mouth, his teeth catching against the bud before he bites down measuredly. 

You squirm, hips rolling needily when he sucks more of your breast into his mouth, alternating between them when he feels the other being neglected.

“Such pretty tits,” Sylus sighs, pulling back to stare at the stiffened peaks of your breasts, covered in his spit and budding teeth marks that were bound to bruise.

“I thought you were gonna knot me,” you murmur, rolling your hips up, mewling when you feel his cock slide between your folds.

“So desperate,” he muses, letting go of your hands in favor of grasping his cock.

You look down, eyes half-lidded as he grips the base of his cock, right over his knot that somehow seemed a little larger in the moments that had passed. A whine escapes you when he slaps his cock against your pussy, your cheeks flushing when you see the glistening strings of slick clinging to his cock.

“How sweet,” Sylus croons, his grin growing sharper, “even your pussy doesn’t want to let me go.”

You huff out a breath to hide your embarrassment, throwing your arm over your eyes. “Don’t talk like that.”

He laughs, rising up to sit on the haunches of his legs, his hand stroking his cock lazily. “But you enjoy it, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want now.”

You watch with bated breath as he notches the head of his cock against your pussy, squirming when you realize how much his cock is actually going to stretch you out. The knot at the base seems even more intimidating; you feel a little nervous, thighs trying to clamp shut just when Sylus begins to push in. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, “relax, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

You reach for his hand, trying to calm your rapid heart and Sylus gives it to you, lacing your fingers together before kissing your knuckles.

A soft gasp leaves you when he begins to push in again, and that’s when you feel how girthy his cock truly is. It stretches you, inch by inch and you bite your lip, eyes slipping shut.

“That’s it,” Sylus soothes, squeezing your hand and tilting his head to kiss your shoulder, “take my cock, sweetness.”

An incoherent sound emanates from you when he sinks all the way in, your hands scrabbling at his shoulders when you feel how good he’s stretching you, how full you feel - and that’s without his knot. You stare down, heart fluttering in your chest when you see where you’re connected, his cock buried inside of you.

“A- aren’t you going to put your knot in?” you ask meekly, mouth dropping open when he begins to move his hips, the slow, rolling motions making you see stars.

“When you’re ready for it,” Sylus whispers, his voice hoarse, “pretty pussy’s still too tight for it. Practically trying to milk my cock already, baby.”

You hiccup, tears nearly springing to your eyes when he begins to draw his hips out, thrusting forward more forcefully. Sylus moans loudly and you claw at his back, arms and legs clinging to him tightly when he swirls his hips and grinds them forward, burying his cock in deeper with every thrust.

His knot seems to swelling rapidly, and you peek down with wide eyes, letting out a shaky breath when you see how thick it’s become. It squishes up against you with every thrust Sylus delivers, catching against your clit every now and then. 

“I- ngh- fuck- I don’t think it’s going to fit,” you whimper, trying to push at Sylus’ abdomen when he grips your hips.

He snaps his teeth, irritation showing on his face when you try to squirm away from his knot, his grip tight enough to keep you in place. “Don’t fucking run from it,” he snarls, and you’re reminded of the way he was in that birdcage, feral and unrelenting. 

You gulp when he grips your thighs, pushing them down towards your stomach, practically folding you until your cunt is on display for him. It’s lewd and obscene and so terribly hot, that your pussy clenches down greedily, eager for more of his attention.

“There we go,” he whispers, snapping his hips harder, his balls smacking against your ass, “pretty pussy loves my cock, hm?”

You blink up at him, nodding shyly, the words slipping out of you unbidden. “I love your cock, Sylus.”

Sylus’ hips stutter to a stop when he hears your shy, whispery words, his cheeks flushing to a pretty pink that has your eyes lighting up.

“Y- yeah?” he murmurs, and you laugh when he clears his throat, giddy by the fact that you’ve managed to fluster Sylus of all people. “Whose cock is it then, baby?”

“Mine,” you murmur, your fingers reaching down to scratch at his navel, through the coarse hairs that lie there. “Your cock’s all mine.”

Sylus groans and you yelp when he suddenly spreads you open, gasping when he thumbs apart your folds, his knot beginning to sink inside of you. It’s a tight fit and you cry out, tears pricking at your lash line when he finally manages to bully it in.

You feel so full, you’re almost sure you can feel his cock in your throat. 

“No- shit- don’t fucking clench,” he groans, his head dropping forward to bury his head into the crook of your neck when your pussy flutters around his fat cock and knot, trying to accomodate. 

“Can’t help it,” you wail, fingers pulling at his hair harshly, squeaking when he tugs his knot free and starts to fuck you again. 

Sylus ruts his hips into you, driving forward and pounding his cock into your cunt until you sob, writhing on your bed, the building pleasure entirely overwhelming. The clap of his hips is loud, balls smacking into you with every thrust, his knot creating an embarrassing sound whenever it sinks inside of you, before Sylus pulls his hips back, tugging the knot free.

“Gonna breed you,” he begins to mutter, his teeth nipping at your shoulder and neck, biting with measured care. “I’m going to breed this tight fucking cunt, sweetness. Give you all of my fucking cum.”

“All of it,” you echo breathlessly, “want it- want your knot, Sylus.”

“You’re getting it,” he growls, squeezing your hips tightly before shoving his knot in completely.

You scream, twitching when it swells inside of you completely. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, entirely too large to be tugged free again when Sylus jerks his hips.

“Oh- oh my- fuck-” you squeal, and Sylus smashes his lips over yours in a heated kiss. It’s all teeth and fangs and spit, and you grab blindly at his shoulders, gasping uncontrollably when it continues to swell, growing fatter and fatter until your pussy throbs around it, the knot locking you together.

“Cum,” Sylus rasps against your lips, “cum, doll, cum on my fucking knot. Cum on my fucking knot so I can give you my cum and breed this sweet, little pussy.”

You moan brokenly, thighs twitching when he rubs your clit, the sensations on the sensitive bud trying to make you curl away from him. Sylus kisses you again and you whimper into his mouth, cunt clenching uncontrollably as you cum, head tossed back, and back arched.

He curses, his head dropping forward at the feel of your pussy, and you mewl when he cums straight after, ears perking up at the low growls and breathy groans. His cum is hot and thick, and you’re still too full, filled up with his cum and his cock. The knot doesn’t give way until several moments later, deflating slowly.

Sylus’ cum spills out, hot and slow and you watch with dazed eyes as it leaks out of you, your pussy fluttering around nothing, thanks to the loss of his fat cock. 

“That’s no good,” he murmurs, his fingers spreading through his cum, rubbing it over your folds and clit before trying to push it back into your pussy.

Sylus frowns at you when you slap his hand away, and you give him a half-hearted glare, pussy aching and thighs sore from the way he had fucked and bent you. He hums, slinking down the bed to kiss your thighs and you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, the throbbing in your pussy fading faintly as he massages your sore muscles and kisses your clit every now and then, his actions affectionate.

You let him clean you up, thankful for the glass of water he brings you. Sylus pulls you closer into his chest, kissing your forehead, his hands smoothing up and down your sides.

“So what does it mean?” you ask him quietly, leaning forward to meet his kiss when he tips your chin upwards, “the feather?”

Sylus’ expression sobers for a moment, his lips grazing across your cheek to whisper into your ear.

“That your soulmate is near.”

You pull back, staring up into his eyes suspiciously. When you see the slight twitch of his lips, his usual smirk pulling across his lips, you scoff and swat his chest. He laughs, catching your wrist and bringing your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“What?” he murmurs, “am I really such a bad candidate to be your soulmate?”

“You’re lying,” you grouse, letting him pull you up onto his lap and press his face into the crook of your neck.

“You don’t know that,” Sylus whispers, tilting his head to kiss the pulse in your throat.

You can’t help but think he has such a strange obsession with it. When he emerges from the crook of your neck, you cup his jaw, staring up into his eyes. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, you think, spending every life with him, especially when he’s like this.

“Then promise me,” you say, your voice holding a hint of a challenge. “Promise me that when we’ve passed and our bones are nothing but dust that you’ll find me in the next life.”

Sylus seems slightly taken aback by your request, his eyes widening momentarily before he leans forward, slotting his lips over yours. “Is that a confession of love, sweetness?” He smiles against your lips, nipping your lower lip. “In any case, I promise it,” he whispers, his gaze intense, “in this life or the next, I will find you and have you.”

You purse your lips, heart fluttering at his declaration.

“You’re a fool,” you mumble, pressing yourself more firmly against his chest, head resting on his shoulder.

“And yet you still took my knot.”

“I hate you.”

Sylus pouts mockingly, his lips attacking your cheek with kisses until you have no choice but to let out the laughter you’ve been holding in. His words are a gentle whisper, caressing your skin, his promise tightening the unseen bonds that bind you together. 

“Forever, my sweet soulmate.”

[reignpage]

The JJK men as your boyfriend: their likes

Gojo - Likes being the first thing you see in the morning

You’re deep in sleep, snoozing life away, when you feel something tickle your nose. Heavy eyes opening ever so slightly, a frown grazes your lips. Satoru’s holding a feather in front of your face. Lying on his side with his head propped up by his arm, you almost resist the urge to shove him off the bed. 

“Morning, pretty lady.”

He’s got a shit-eating grin. The kind that tells you he’s been doing this for a while, anticipating, with little patience, your reaction and boy oh boy are you living up to it. 

“What the fuck, Toru?” You croak. “Why?”

Shrugging, he tickles your nose one more time before you snatch the feather and throw it in his face. It just skims his skin ever so slightly and you both watch the damn thing flutter so gracefully down onto the sheets. His grin widens. “You were snoring and I’ve been up for ages so I wanted to wake you, duh.”

“Why the fucking feather? Why not just call out my name like a normal person?”

A peck lands on your nose and you wrinkle it. He pouts. 

“Because it’s sensual and intimate.”

Well, that answers none of your questions. Despite yourself, you nuzzle against his chest, thumping your forehead against his heart. In turn, he wraps a solid arm around you. “I was having a good dream.”

“Yeah? I had a good dream too. Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine; whoever had the lamer dream cooks breakfast,” he mutters against your hair. “And just to warn you, baby, my dream had dragons.”

Rolling your eyes, you fire back, “Dragons are so lame. My dream had unicorns and aliens.”

“Unicorns and aliens? Well then, I should get started on the eggs, shouldn’t I?” 

Geto - Likes to have you with him wherever he goes

“Are you sure I should be here?”

A cult-meeting’s in progress and you’re sat, rather comfortably, on Suguru’s lap. All eyes are on you. You feel the heat of every stare and glare, and you can do nothing but take it. They don’t want you here. They think you’re a distraction, a pretty little thing, sure, but also a symbol of mockery to their cause. You grimace. 

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, seems to think all is well. His chin rests on top of your head and he holds you in place the way one holds a cat firmly in their arms — he even pets you here and there like you’re genuinely soothing him.

“Of course,” he reassures you. “You can be wherever you want to be and no one can say a thing about it. Isn’t that right?”

The hall is filled with a cacophony of agreements from every follower; none of them would ever want to get on his bad side, after all. And you won’t lie: it is quite nice to be involved. 

Nothing could ever feel wrong when he’s holding you so good. Warm, firm and smelling like home, there really isn’t anywhere you’d rather be than by him, or rather on him. He lays a kiss on your shoulder and cheek sporadically through the duration of the meeting, whenever he needs a reminder of what he’s doing this all for and what he’ll get to reward himself with after. 

“Thank you, pretty girl,” he whispers in your ear.

Leaning into his embrace, head resting on his shoulder, you smile, even as everyone can do nothing but watch. Sometimes you needed to remind Suguru that your love is unconditional, that he needn’t work for it, that by virtue of him being who he is, you love him more than anything. You’re more than happy to remind him as often as he needs, of course, but one can’t help but wish he would always know and never doubt it. 

Choso - Likes being praised

Staring at you with wide, expectant eyes, your boyfriend fiddles with a lock of his hair. “I threw out the trash.”

You look up from your book to spare him a glance. “Oh?”

“Yeah! And I also cleaned the bathroom and vacuumed the carpet.”

“That’s nice.”

Hearing, rather than seeing, his heart plummet to the ground and rest six feet under, you know he’s about to start hyperventilating. Choso has a penchant for overreacting; a sad scene appears on TV and he’s sobbing, someone bumps into you and he’s rolling his sleeves, and when you don’t reward him?

Oh, he’s already thinking of what boxes to put his things in. 

Clearing his throat, he tries again and, with a much more transparently hurt tone, wonders, “Did I do something to upset you?”

“Hmm?” You flick to the next page. “Not really.”

Then, sensing you’re not going to cave any time soon, he gets up and gathers a broom. He’s brushing the floor with much more gusto, exaggerated movements and grunts of exhaustion. You suppose you really shouldn’t be so mean, but he makes it so easy — the man wears his heart on his sleeve. 

A devastated expression meets your gaze over the book and you sigh. “Alright, alright. Thank you for working so hard, Cho. You’ve done a great job and I’m proud of you. Come and give me a kiss.”

The broom falls with a thud and then you’re being pinned to the sofa by a heavy body. He kisses your face all over, missing your lips much more often than he’d like but he’s laughing against your skin. You laugh too, book set aside carefully. 

“Can I show you the little swan I folded out of a towel? I named it after you!”

Yeah, this time he’s looking for much more than a kiss. Clever boy. 

Toji - Likes to be alone with you

“Let’s get outta here already,” he growls. 

The big guy’s been bothering you since you two got to the bar. He moaned about how crowded it is, how dim the lights are, and how ‘these pricks’ are ‘dumb as hell’ and he hopes ‘they get ran over.’

You’ve smacked him so many times, warning him to ‘shut the fuck up,’ that your hand is actually hurting. Each time, he would just roll his eyes and then grab the back of your head, smashing his lips onto yours, shoving his tongue inside to get a taste of you, and then letting go to gulp a whole pint of beer. 

“Toji, we’ve been here twenty minutes.”

He shoots you a look that says, ‘So?’

Hands wandering, you shake out of his grip and embrace a friend. For ten minutes, you leave him leaning against a wall with a dark air about him, intimidating the other patrons so much so that, when passing him, they leave a wide berth and speed-walk. 

You sigh. He’s being really well-behaved and you know it’s because he knows how much you’ve been looking forward to catching up with friends from all over town. So, he grips his glass, threatening to shatter the damn thing, and keeps his mouth shut.

But you also feel restless. You too want to go home.

Strolling up to your man, he opens his arms out and you slot into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then, pecking his prickly chin, you concede, “Okay, Toji baby, let’s go home.”

You’re picked up and snatched away into the cold of the night faster than you, or anyone else in the bar, can process. 

“About fucking time, ma. God, had me wanting to blow my head out.”

He takes you home, stripping you of your filthy outside clothes and throws you onto the bed, climbing up your naked body, laying kisses here and there, and then…slumps on top of you. The deep, satisfied groan that comes from him vibrates against your ribcage and you don’t bother telling him off for stealing your breath.

“That’s more like it,” he whispers against your neck. “Good to be home.”

Nanami - Likes pampering you (he gets husband status automatically)

Lying down on the sofa with a cold face mask, watching TV and eating popcorn on a Friday night with your hunk of a husband is what life is all about. 

You’ve got your feet on his lap and he’s massaging the hell out of them. He’s got the hands of an angel, you swear. “Oh, God, Ken. That’s perfect. Ngh! Yes, right there, oh! Uh, yes, yes, yessss, so good. So so sooooo good.”

He chuckles. Glasses off and wet hair pushed back, he’s the poster picture of a house-husband, especially with the matching face mask and pyjamas on him. Continuing his ministrations, he warns, “Sweetheart, I’m glad I have the potential to quit my day job and be a masseuse, but you really should hold off on those pornographic sounds.”

“Behave, Kento. I’m trying to watch my show.”

Pressing hard on a particular knot, you gasp. His innocent smile is too cute to get mad at. And when he playfully scolds, “It’s you who should behave, honey.”

“Ah! Ow, Ken!”

The bastard’s bitten your big toe. He actually bit you. Pulling your feet away from him and his rumbling laughter, you sit criss-crossed on the sofa, protesting against him. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t be mad at me. I just couldn’t help myself,” he confesses in between chuckles. Hands reach for you, manoeuvring you with expert skill and wondrous strength onto his lap. From here, he massages your shoulders instead, thumb rubbing out the tension in your shoulder blades. “Instead of this show, why don’t we lay down some towels on the bed and have a full body massage, hmm? I’ll get the candles — the ones you like. How does that sound, darling?”

Your husband isn’t just sexy; he’s a sweet-talker. “Won’t you be tired from all this massaging? I think I should be massaging you, if anything.”

With your hand in his, he lifts it and lays a gentle kiss on the cold band on your finger. Sincerity lacing every word, he promises, “Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy. So be a good wife and let me spoil you.”

Sukuna -  Likes enabling you

“And then she shoved me! She actually shoved me. Can you believe that?”

The King hums, fingers playing with a lock of your hair. 

“She’s got an ugly soul, Kuna. Mark my words. That woman is gonna end up in the bad place and even the devil will turn his nose up at her.”

You’re in the garden, head laid on his lap as you both lounge on a wooden bench he had built for you after you complained about needing a place to sit. For, what seems to be, hours now, you’ve been complaining about some girl you know. 

“Like, who does she think she is? Seriously. She’s deranged.” It’s petty drama, you know that, and so does he, but the anger in your face and in your movements suggests otherwise. But even though you’re making a fuss over practically nothing, he doesn’t interrupt. “I should totally throw her over a building.”

“You should.”

“Yeah and then sh— what?”

Disbelief sparkling in your eyes, you question him silently. He shrugs, lightly tugging your hair and says, “You should throw that wench out of a building. Throw her out of a window on our estate, if it pleases you.”

You forgot who you’re speaking to; you should have known better than to assume he’d say something remotely normal. One could even say he’s joking, but you know he’s not. Nothing about the bloodlust swirling in those compelling eyes could ever be taken as a joke. 

Sighing, your animated arms fall onto your torso. “No, Sukuna. I can’t just do that. Don’t be silly. Sure, she was horrible, but she’s not that bad. Maybe she was having a terrible day.”

“Be that as it may, I think it would do you wonders to alleviate your anger the way I do: with revenge of the most violent kind. You need not defenestrate her. You can stab her till the light leaves her eyes or you can operate a vehicle that will trample all over her — oh, that is a good one; you can really feel the crunching of bones.”

Sitting up, you peck him on his cheek, smiling at his bewildered expression. “You’re insane but so cute, y’know?”

He frowns. 

“I am not insane.”

[seaweef]

SO , SO NOISY !!

synopis. he just wont shut up, wont he? i guess we'll have to fix this issue...

feat. choso, nanami, gojo

cw. smut, fem!reader, riding, gagging, sex in potentially public areas ( reader is afraid they might get caught ), satoru being a bitch

weefnote. i have NOT reviewed for my test but writing this instead of studying was so worth it ALSO PLEASE REBLOG + COMMENT I LOVE LIKES BUT REBLOGS AND COMMENTS HAVE MY HEART

# — CHOSO

"o-oh, ngh, fuck..." choso whimpers, his nails digging crescents into your hips, mesmerized by how his cock gets swallowed whole by that pretty pussy of yours as you snap down on him. "s-so good, haah,"

"choso, shh, we'll get caught..." you drawl while dragging a finger down his handsome button nose, watching as he scrunches his face up at the ticklish feather light touch, in contrast to the hypnotic smack of your hips against his. your words fall upon deaf ears, he makes that clear when you press that finger against his glossy, parted lips in an attempt to shush him, but to no avail.

sighing, you halt your movement. he stammers, and you get a good look of those soft eyes and the tears hanging from his dark lashes. "baby, w-why'd you stop?" he sounds so upset, it makes you giggle into your fist. just as he's about to start whining again, you shove the same pair of lace panties you had been wearing earlier into his mouth. "mgh-!?"

you feel his cock twitch inside you while you smile as if youre innocent. "better."

he lets out a broken moan into the fabric as you slam yourself back on his cock. the sight was heavenly, drool spilling out from the corner of his mouth as his eyes roll back.

yeah, you should definitely do that more often.

# — NANAMI

kento is often quiet during sex, a few occasional groans here and there. but today...

"oh, sweetheart," hes throwing his head back, his once neat hair all disheveled and his eyelids heavy. hes like an animal, ramming into you with no restraints whatsoever as youre scrambling to find something to grab on, fingernails scratching desperately at the wood of his desk. papers fly everywhere, but thats a problem for later. "hngh, k-ken'! t-they'll, ooh, hear us!"

"why? dont want them to- shit, dont want them to hear how good your husband's fucking you?"

"i-its not thahaat, but- keeen!"

"fuck..." he looks down at the sight, the creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock, and he hisses. hes well aware how noisy he must be, so one hand leaves your arched back, pulling his tie to bite on it.

you look back, pussy tightening at what you see, and he all but moans.

"l-love you, love you so much," his voice is muffled, but you bury your face into the crook of your elbow while sniffling. "i- hah- love you too,"

and all hell breaks loose.

# — GOJO

"yeaaah, let me use this sexy cunt," satoru drawls out his words annoyingly, annoyingly enough that you register it through how deep he was in you right now.

"shut the fuck up, you're s-ah, so noisy," you seethe. hes always like this when in charge, and he clearly enjoy the power he holds at times like these, when hes on top of you, hands on the back of your knees and folding you back.

he laughs, licking his lips afterwards. "yeah?" and his face is suddenly so close to yours. "whatcha gonna do if i dont? make me, sweetie."

you (try to) roll your eyes at the challenge, a shaky hand extending to grab at his hair, and the other hand-

"whatre you-?"

you push two fingers into his mouth, pressing them against his tongue. for a moment hes hesitant, but then his blue eyes crinkle at the sides, and he swirls his tongue around your fingertips.

"fhuuck," you mewl, his stupid handsome face somehow getting you even wetter and tighter than you already were, his cock throbbing.

when you take your fingers out of his mouth, a string of salive connects them to his lips, and he grins. "wow, that was hot."

before you can even reply, he pulls your own hand towards your neglected clit and guides you to rub yourself with the same fingers that were in his mouth earlier.

as you moan, he flashes a smug smile. "whos the noisy one now?"

[meganegatari]

i was busy having a mental breakdown only i saw this art and just about creamed my pj pantaloons so i needed to do something about that!!!!! cait i love you my beautiful princess with a couple disorders but that should be me RAHHH hi vi nation i have something for yall (also written in like 2 seconds be nice)

nsfw drabble—overstimming vi. 18+ content. sub!vi, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, brief mention of masturbation, vi body hair mention (you already KNOWWW) + aftercare.

orgasms climbing high into the double digits—yet you still weren't done with her. actually far from it, you felt like pushing her buttons, both literally and figuratively.

vi is spent, so limp and exhausted laying next to you, powdery blues begging for your mercy. but you didn't falter. you sat on your knees to the fiery haired woman's side, your fingers—coated with her slick from previous rounds—prancing upon her defined abs. you traced from under her ribcage, to each individual muscle on her torso, down to the wispy strands of magenta hair of her happy trail increasing in thickness until you reached the vermillion tangle resting on her mound, but before you could part her swollen lips once more, you heard her wince from above.

“fuck babe— s'too much, im- hahh, i dunno how much more…” she trails off, her whiny voice music to your ears, the sweetest candy to your sadistic soul.

her eyelids fluttered open while her chest heaved and head lolled against the pillow underneath—strings of hair stuck to her forehead. her face was shiny, with sweat or even tears, it made her shimmer. the apples of her cheeks were as crimson as prime picking season, a stark contrast from the vulgar mess between her trembling thighs.

her hips twitch—the smallest jerk upward—paired with a woeful plea from her clenched jaw, she needed you again. enough time had passed, and you were ready to give her everything you had.

“one more?” you quip at her, honeyed voice deepening her blush.

with that, she manages a brisk nod.

and like so, that was your cue to resume your descent.

you watch her like a hawk, grazing her skin with an agonizing feather-light touch, revel in how her breathing visibly quickens—gods this sexual intimacy was otherworldly.

tattooed biceps rise to shield her face, arms crossing and settling atop her eyes, but you still had a good view.

your stare unmoving, you skip down to tease her inner thighs, kneading the flesh lovingly—playing with the webs of essence that decorated her.

a whine fills the air, she was growing impatient.

you comply, finally moving your hand up to where she needs you most, you part her and break your line of sight away from her face to marvel at how she sucks your middle two digits in, her back arching.

she lets out a breathy moan—an unguarded sound that makes your own core ache, and you find her thumping clit and press on the bud with your thumb.

you see her mouth fall open, her shallow heaves quickly turning into animalistic pants, the release was bubbling inside her already.

you begin to circle her bundle of nerves gently, your two digits simultaneously pumping in and out of her quivering walls—her sounds only growing more and more lewd. this was pornographic, but the way she didn't hold back flipped a switch inside you.

you press down harder, then flick her swollen clit up and down until she jolts, your assault on her g-spot inside causing spurts of pearlescent cum to land on your hard at work forearm.

you were so mesmerized, so focused, you could even call it entranced by her. you had to fight the urge to shove your free hand down your own undergarments and soothe the build up there but you resisted, this was about her.

her whimpers and groans came in time with your rhythmic, regular thrusts, you felt her pussy spasming as another orgasm rushed through her, overtaking her entirely.

the sight, the syrupy squelching sounds and the smell of her sex drove you insane.

you continue to fuck her all the way through the high, until her eyes were welling up with tears and her knuckles lost their color from how hard she was gripping at everything around her—her hair, the sheets, you.

when it got too much, she squirmed away from you instinctively, and you obeyed to not hurt her. you'd never do so.

“you're so fucking hot vi, fuck—the things you do to me…” you mutter under your breath, taking in the sight of her fucked out form. she really was ethereal.

you put your fingers in your mouth to clean up, sighing at her sweetness.

she continued to lay there before you, only this time with a faint smile on her pretty lips.

her eyes were closed, and she looked so peaceful. before she fell asleep you dashed to get a damp washcloth and very gingerly wiped up the remnants of her pleasure from her creamy skin, grinning all the while.

when you were done, you tossed it to the side and joined her horizontally, nuzzling into her embrace.

deciding to make a joke, you try, “what do you say, one more?”

luckily you're met with a belly laugh from your love, and a playful shove to your shoulder.

“not a chance. next time it's your turn, i'll make you cum until you cry.”

taglist: @vifilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ne @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @mascdom @ashaynep @angelynn-nicole @ellabbss @aylabv02108 @lonelyfooryouonly @melsmunch @e11williamsgf @imdrowningindespair @spncrrdlvr @cheyisagirlkisser @thatgyalfisher @eroselless @i-dont-know-00 @ithinkimfuckincrazy @liaponderstings @lesbian-useless @slutzandcuckz @finalgirllx

[januaryembrs]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?

Length: 8k

Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.

main masterlist.

author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!

He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression. 

He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul. 

Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl. 

Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.

“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”

She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek. 

She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.

Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie. 

“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not. 

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before. 

“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his. 

“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,” 

She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them. 

“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”

She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,” 

But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t. 

“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word. 

Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him. 

“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,” 

Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.  

Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.

–

Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together. 

Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice. 

Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.

Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning. 

“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”

He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask. 

“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee. 

“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her. 

“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,” 

“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable. 

“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating. 

Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel. 

Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue. 

“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question. 

His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?” 

Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly. 

“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him. 

“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair. 

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror. 

“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy. 

“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her. 

“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her. 

“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague. 

“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”

He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that. 

He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.

And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor. 

The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning. 

-

They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive. 

“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house. 

The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“ 

“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?” 

“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud. 

But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features. 

“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole. 

Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified. 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it. 

“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,” 

“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified. 

She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window. 

“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?” 

He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would. 

He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.

Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.

“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”

“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.

“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”

Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it. 

“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”

“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.

“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”

“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”

“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”

“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”

She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.

–

They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of. 

And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.

She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.

“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”

“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.

She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.

“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”

“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies. 

She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face. 

“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.

“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.

“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”

Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”

“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love. 

“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”

JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.

Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”

She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.

The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.

“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”

Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.

But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.

He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.

—

It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.

In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.

It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.

“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.

“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,” 

Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”

“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”

And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?

Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft. 

“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.

“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.

“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too. 

Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.

“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.

“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”

He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response. 

“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.

“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”

“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months. 

Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”

“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.

“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem. 

Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him. 

“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time. 

He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world. 

“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”

“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips. 

“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,” 

“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”

Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.

“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.

He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground. 

“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”

She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped. 

“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?” 

He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?” 

She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.

“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?” 

He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.  

“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”

Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right. 

He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.

He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.

He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.

“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”

Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.

“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.

And she believed him.

--

[mariasont]

hi bby, i also have another idea! <3

it’s a song inspired fic with spencer or hotch and bimbo!reader and how they are in the office when they first get together and maybe some moments before they do!!

the song i was thinking of is birds of a feather by billie eilish and you can choose either hotch or spence bcuz i can’t decide, lol

anyway ily and i’m so glad you’re doing better and it’s so lovely to see you here again!! <33

BIRDS OF A FEATHER - S.R

a/n: i just need you to know you are literally the backbone of my fics i swear!!! ur requests are always my favorite <3 but anyway ilysm and i'm so happy to be and so happy to fufill your request, i hope you like it!! :)

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: clingy!reader, dramatic gf calm bf best duo, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, idiots in love

wc: 1k

You'd lost count of how many times you'd checked the clock. Five days without Spencer felt like an eternity. You weren't sure how people survived long-distance relationships. 

You’d tried everything to distract yourself. A true crime documentary had seemed like a good idea, something to make you feel like Spencer was still close, in that nerdy, FBI way of his, but it turned out to be too scary (and okay, a little boring). You’d spent most of it hiding behind a pillow, silently debating whether the narrator’s voice was creepy or just British.

All you could do was scroll on your phone and pout at the clock, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you'd somehow willed time to speed up since the last time you looked. Spoiler, you hadn't.

By the time you heard the jingle of keys outside the door, you were practically vibrating with excitement. You shot off the couch so fast you nearly tripped on the blanket you'd be wrapped in all night. 

The lock clicked, and there he was, Spencer, with tired eyes and messy hair, his satchel hanging limply off one shoulder like it weighed more than he did. He looked exhausted but perfect, the way only Spencer could.

"Spence!" you squealed, launching yourself at him before he could even get through the doorway.

"Hi," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. He smelled faintly of coffee and something antiseptic, but underneath it all was that comforting, familiar scent that was just him.

"I missed you, too."

You buried your face in his chest for a moment, breathing him in like you could bottle the feeling and save it for later. Then, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, you gripped his jacket tightly.

“You better have. I’ve been losing my mind waiting for you.”

Spencer’s lips twitched into a tired smile. “Losing your mind? Sounds serious. Should I be worried?”

"Definitely," you said, nodding earnestly. "I've been so bored, Spence. I started talking to myself, like, full on conversations. And I'm not as smart as you, so they weren't even good conversations."

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your hip. “I’m sure they were better than you think.”

You stepped back and began tugging his jacket off, shooing him toward the couch. He followed without a word of protest, letting you fuss over him.

“You look so tired, baby,” you said, plucking his satchel off the floor and setting it aside. “Did you eat? You better have. I should’ve made something, but I didn’t know when you’d get here, and I got distracted, and —”

Spencer's hand caught yours, making your mouth snap shut. His fingers were warm, and the way they curled around yours was enough to make your brain go fuzzy for a second. 

"I'm fine. Really."

“You don’t look fine,” you said, wrinkling your nose at him. “You look all…” You waved vaguely at his face. “Work-y.”

“Work-y,” he echoed, his lips twitching into a small, tired smile.

“Exactly,” you said, nodding as you plopped down beside him and immediately curled into his side. Your arms looped around him, holding him tightly, as though he might vanish if you let go.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, leaning into your touch. 

“You’re very clingy tonight,” he teased, though the way his arm came up to pull you closer told you he didn’t mind.

“Obviously,” you replied, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in forever. I missed your face. And your hair. And your nerdy little brain. Especially your nerdy little brain.”

He laughed quietly. “My brain missed you, too.”

“Good,” you said, tilting your head to press a kiss to his jaw. “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere for at least... three days. Maybe four. You’ll just have to solve crimes from here.”

Spencer hummed, his fingers continuing their gentle movement. “I’m not sure the FBI would agree to that.”

“Then they’ll have to fight me for you,” you said with a dramatic huff, crossing your arms. “Honestly, I could probably take Hotch in a fight. He doesn’t look like he’s had a good night’s sleep since, like, 1999. One shove, and he’s done for.”

Spencer laughed, his chest shaking against yours. “You’d shove Hotch? I think that’s a violation of multiple workplace policies.”

You grinned, tilting your head to look up at him. “It’d be worth it. You’re way more important than some dumb policies.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Terribly in love with you,” you said, your grin widening as you leaned forward to nudge his nose with yours. “Now, scoot over. I’m not comfy enough.”

Before he could ask what you meant, you were already moving, shifting to climb into his lap with zero hesitation. Spencer blinked in surprise, but his hands instinctively came up to steady you, one resting on your waist while the other settled on your thigh.

“You could’ve warned me,” he murmured, though his lips quirked into a small smile as you tucked yourself against him like a human blanket.

“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your forehead against his. “Besides, I missed you too much to sit all the way over there.”

Spencer let out a soft, breathy laugh, his nose brushing yours as he adjusted to your weight. “You don’t think this is a little excessive?”

“Excessive? No. Necessary? Yes.” You kissed the tip of his nose, grinning when his cheeks flushed a faint pink. “You’re my boyfriend, Spence. This is part of the job description.”

He shook his head, but the way his arms tightened around you gave him away.

“Love you,” you said in a sigh, nuzzling closer to him.

“I love you too, angel,” he said. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I love you more than I can put into words.”

Spencer let out a long breath, his head resting back against the couch as his hands stayed comfortably on your waist. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” you teased, though you didn’t move an inch from where you were nestled against him.

“Maybe,” he murmured, his voice low and a little gravelly.

“Good,” you whispered, your cheek pressed to his. “That means you’re staying right here.”

He didn’t answer, but the way his arms tightened around you was more than enough.

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A Bird in the building is worth to in the car. Or something. Part 23

yes, I do have too much fun with these part titles masterpost

The efficiency that Danny and the kids were ushered, privately and securely, into the parking garage and the waiting car with was impressive. Bruce gave the order and then in a breath they were at the car. Unable to fight the instinct, Danny had kept his wings around the boys the whole way, as if he could protect them from the world.

Even in the car Danny still wanted to protectively drape his wings around them. He was grateful when both boys let him. He was grateful that Mr. Pennyworth didn’t comment on the wings at all. He just wished Bruce had gone with them.

It was completely understandable for Bruce to have to check on the situation and the people who had been in the building before leaving, but it left Danny feeling on edge. It would be better once Bruce was back in the car, and Danny knew that everyone here was safe. If it had been possible, he would have preferred to wait in the safe room. With the incoming cops that hadn’t been wise.

What felt like too long later, Danny watched Bruce walk towards the car through the tinted windows, flanked by very alert security. The door opening and closing felt very final. Danny let out a breath he hadn’t exactly been holding, but had still felt clogged up in his chest.

Bruce leaned across the center console and part way into the back seat. “Are you all alright?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said where he was just barely leaning into Danny’s side and cradled by a wing.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But, B, he was following me. He said he saw me going into the building. He called me a dormouse. I didn’t… I didn’t even notice him until he came into the building.”

Danny carded talons through Tim’s hair, hoping to calm himself as much as Tim or else he might go back and show the Mad Hatter how terrifying he could really get.

Bruce didn’t look any more pleased at that. “We’ll look into it, and I’ll pass along the information too. We’ll have to put some security on you for a bit in case he has others under control who are still after you.”

Tim frowned at that and Danny couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to Tim’s hair, as presumptuous as the act was. “Let us protect you, hummingbird.”

Tim looked up at him. “Hummingbird?”

Danny just gave a little shrug. It seemed to fit. He didn’t think too much about it. It fit in the same way as being able to wrap his wings around them and the need to protect them.

“And what about you?” Bruce asked.

Danny glanced at the other man, tilting his head quizzically.

“Are you alright?” Bruce clarified.

“He was not before the event,” Damian jumped in quickly. “He was obviously fatigued and suffering from either a headache or over stimulation from the noise.”

“Or both,” Tim added. “We thought he might be leaving to go home.”

“I was just leaving to get lunch,” Danny sighed, even though they weren’t wrong about the rest.

Bruce frowned and held his hand out, which Danny just blinked at.

“Hand, Danny,” Bruce explained. “I want to check your pulse.”

Danny froze. He was suddenly, excruciatingly aware that his hand was still tipped in talon and small feathers. He snatched his hand out of Tim’s hair, worried now that his hand alone had been too much, as distorted as it was. He crossed his arms, hiding his hands against his body.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce didn’t pull his hand back. Instead his whole face softened in a sad way that confused Danny.

“We aren’t afraid of you, Danny,” Bruce said. His voice was a comforting low rumble that Danny wanted desperately to trust. “You’ve been nothing but kind to my family and today you kept them safe. The physical changes you went through to do that do not scare me.”

Danny glanced down and away, trying to avoid looking at any of them in the tight space of the car. “They scare me.”

Damian clicked his tongue and leaned further into Danny’s side, further in under the wing. Tim reached for a hand. Not wanting to accidentally hurt Tim with the sharp talons, Danny reluctantly let him take it. Tim wrapped his own fingers confidently around Danny’s.

Bruce still waited with his hand out.

Danny chewed on his lip, an old nervous tick. Bruce waited. The boys stayed close. Finally, Danny let out a huff of air and offered his hand up to Bruce.

“Your pulse is a bit erratic,” Bruce said after he had counted Danny’s pulse along to the ticking of his watch. He didn’t let go of Danny’s hand after it, instead he ran his thumb against Danny’s wrist. The touch almost made Danny shiver in a good way.

“I, ah, adrenalin crash, I figure,” Danny said once he could find his words.

“Are you alright returning to the Manor so that we can keep an eye on you?”

“Oh I get asked this time?” Danny teased. Teasing was easier.

Bruce just chuckled. “Well you are awake.”

“I… yes,” Danny answered. It was less about him being looked after and more so that he could look after the boys. If he went home now, he’d worry all night.

Mr. Pennyworth finally started the car. “Will you be needing medication or any such health items from your apartment, sir?”

Danny shook his head. “I keep some extra doses in my bag. And really, just Danny is alright.”

“Then to home, Master Danny.”

Danny tried not to miss the touch as Bruce pulled away and buckled in for the drive.