#is that I own no blue threads

[alerrison]

DMC (the makers of one of the popular embroidery threads) sells this BEAUTIFUL chest that comes with a skein of every color floss they make and I have wanted it for ages. But it costs $500.

which is NOT a bad deal because you get about 500 skeins on floss, so like.... buy the floss get the chest for free! Still can't justify the purchase

but I have wanted it for so long, especially just so I can have ~all the colors~ and my mother is like "what do you even do with that much thread?'

BE ABLE TO SWATCH THIS PROJECT I'M TRYING TO PICK COLORS FOR. I have about 300 colors and NONE OF THEM are the right shade of blue DDDD:

[a-usernamelol]

Most of the fandom simping over NPC characters like Sebastian and Ominis:

Me:

I’m just saying he’s really freaking pretty ok. Nobody judge me he’s just PRETTY ok 😅

Also these wonderfully crisp photographs of my MC are from @girl-named-matty who did SUCH an excellent job!

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

chatters I arrive with supplies

[batsplat]

This isn't the usual kind of ask you answer, but I've been working my way through the videopass archive sequentially and have been thinking about the historic/vintage livery that the teams are going to be using in Silverstone after the summer break quite a bit. Personally I'm very fond of the West Honda Pons' black and white livery especially with how they had the names of the riders on one side and the team name on the other, and obviously the gauloises and camel yamahas are iconic. But you've obviously watched a lot of the older seasons, so are there any liveries you'd like to see/which ones would you personally pick for the teams?

I too have been having thoughts about this! I do have some of my faves in a wee folder, and initially my picks were a bit limited in terms of range of years and teams. BUT let's do this properly. all eleven teams. my hot take for each and every one of them

CAVEAT NUMBER ONE look I don't know how 'design' or 'colour theory' or even 'taste' work. most of my reasoning doesn't extend beyond 'I thought this looks nice'

CAVEAT NUMBER TWO I also don't... quite know how this works in terms of who's allowed to use which livery? like not just the sponsor stuff, but would teams be able to use liveries from... idk, a different satellite outfit that was in the sport before they were? this ask mentions the pons liveries.... could honda teams actually use those? what if you don't have a lot of history? is anyone allowed to use mv agusta liveries? would teams go for special liveries, or just the regular ones? how strict are the rules for what you can use?

so. y'know. I'm really just guessing here what's even possible, which meant that for... uh. some of these teams. I did have to reach a bit to come up with a viable livery. let's just make clear this is all vibes and go from here

HONDA

they should have no problem with coming up with plenty of options. let's start with the west honda pons, which the ask references:

excellent pick, anon. if they can use this one, I'd very much support it! we're missing black bikes on the grid currently... this one's simple, it's classy, it's got a little bit of identity with the name written on the side. the dark red highlights work nicely. it's also a livery that, unlike some of the ones to follow, should still work well on the current bikes without losing its identity too much - though maybe you'd have to put some thought into how you'd place the actual name. should still be plenty of space though! and it'd be easily recognisable to fans who are familiar with the old livery, which I reckon is also an important metric

while we're on pons, shout out to the ducados honda pons livery:

nice shade of blue! nice design of the leathers! pleasing shape of the numbers! just has a lot of character and charm to it

anyhow, let's get to the factory honda team. the VERY first pick that popped into my head was the special livery for aragon 2011:

so I get that sense that plenty of people hate this livery and think it looks 'childish' and I'm sorry, but if you think that, congratulations on having bad taste. it's cute! honda barely ever has fun! look at how orange it is! look at the stars! there's a star on the leathers too! I'm fond of the way the front of the bike looks too, how the numbers are placed kinda messily on the star. this one's just, y'know, a bit more creative, something that's just different from how we usually expect liveries to look. screw classy and stylish, give me something with a bit of charm

moving back in time a little further, here's the valencia 2003 livery (valentino's last race with honda):

isn't she gorgeous?? I'd put that bike in my bedroom. lovely from every angle. if you look it up, you can find more photos to show it off properly - just see the sun on the top of the bike. really nice mix of the traditional repsol orange with the yellow, it all just works together. bright like the sun

and one more special livery from the early noughties (if not from the factory team), here's mugello 2001:

hardly a controversial choice, people love this one for a reason. it's pretty!! blue flowers!! this one should work reasonably well on the modern bikes too and obviously most fans should be able to recognise it. again, I don't know what the stance is on special liveries - but hey, it'd be fun to give a certain someone in your factory team a livery from this era

and going back further still, here's eddie lawson 1989:

yes, it's rothmann's honda, yes, I've decided not to care. this is my personal top pick for honda. it should be recognisable even on the current bikes, it pays tribute to honda's long history by not just sticking to something from this century, and it looks cool. clean cut colours that are nicely separated out - I really like the yellow highlights on either side of the bike, plus the way the separation of the blue and white is handled on both the bike and the leathers. it's all quite clearly demarcated, but with nice details to give it character - those stripes on the front of the bike and on the the leathers. the touches of gold. the rider's name on the side of the screen. the number on the back of the bike. cool bit of history, too, like they stole that man away from yamaha and it certainly worked out for them. it's fun!

and one more jump to the past to hailwood's late sixties honda:

this one is proper honda #heritage and I'd totally get if they go with that. my main issue is... I'm not quite sure how it'd work on today's bike, shape-wise? like, the charm here is really the simplicity, the way the orange-gold spreads over the silver. does that work if you have all the bits sticking out everywhere? maybe somebody with a better understanding of design than me can figure it out, and I do like this one. the numbers look nice. idk. it's neat

LCR

well. I guess you'd want to go with one of the cecchinello liveries here? my problem with lcr is that they seem to generally be pretty big on their retro liveries anyway - the first one I thought of... basically looks like the 2021 lcr livery anyway? boring! done that! then there's a few years that are like... silvery, but, and I know this is an unfair way to go about this, I kind of feel I've already gone silvery with a few of my other picks and they're all nicer. so, here's my pick from 2000:

it's a bit busy, but that's kinda the fun of some of these older liveries. big chunk of red, some blue, the nice bright yellow number, even all the logos are kinda fun... I like the weird shape of the white line that separates the red and the black. I don't know, it just works for me as a complete package in a way some of the other lcr liveries don't

YAMAHA

yes, gauloises yamaha. my beloved. everyone's a fan for a reason

can't not mention it!! I do think valentino's version specifically works the best because of the extra bit of flare the yellow highlights provide here. but also the GO!!!!!! thing works on every version. it's fun! sometimes it's okay to go overboard with exclamation mark numbers! this one kinda hits the sweet spot as being proper classy but also joyous, enthusiastic. just overall very much a vibe

on camel yamaha, I do like the livery, but personally I do just associate it more strongly with camel honda? which was literally the same livery. that might not have been the factory team, but those were still serious frontrunners during the early noughties... and, well, it just doesn't feel specifically yamaha to me idk

okay, I'm going to restrain myself here on the valentino livery front. yes, I too liked laguna and valencia 2005. I have only 30 images to play with here and I'm not going to blow half of them on valentino special liveries, so I'm going to stick to my two faves. assen 2007 and catalunya 2008:

they're just! fun! when it comes to liveries in general, my basic criteria are a) can I easily figure out who's riding them, and b) do they make me smile. elegance is boring, give me something more quirky and memorable and FUN. assen is just. a lot. lots of colours, such a bright and cheerful livery that still works as a complete package. the bike's fun, the livery's fun, fabio would look fantastic in this one. and catalunya (in honour of the italian national team) is just a cool idea! the football helmet! the mock shirts! the pink sleeves! there's a real creativity and charm to this one - and at the same time, the base design of the bike is actually really lovely and stylish. also I associated both of these liveries with extremely fun valentino races that I'd definitely recommend (literally two of the top six vale/casey duels), which... well you can't say that about the two 2005 liveries I mentioned above is what I'd say

now, I know I just said forget laguna 2005, but of course laguna 2005 was in itself a reference to a past yamaha livery. so cut out 2005 and just pay direct homage to the iconic late seventies design, feat kenny roberts:

another one everyone loves for a reason! it's a nice shade of yellow, it works well with the white and black... the black dashed line thingies are of course iconic and they just make the whole thing quite dynamic and snazzy

and one more. marlboro liveries do unfortunately slap, plenty of them are fan favourites... look at this red one, feat. eddie lawson 1984:

it's very. blocky. you've got the red bits the white bits the yellow bits. they have nice shapes. nice lines. the yellow bits where one's a circle type thingy and the other one's whatever you call that shape and then you've got the numbers on them. please don't read these descriptions. there's plenty of the marlboro liveries over the course of yamaha's time, but this one's my favourite. and it's the one I'd choose! I know it's super iconic but we already did a tribute to the 70s one back at laguna 2005. do this one instead! it's very yamaha but also a little more creative than the most obvious picks

DUCATI

well. if we're talking marlboro, then yes, of course the old marlboro ducati livery is very memorable:

this is a bike that looks good. there's not much more to say about it (or, well, there probably is, but again it should be obvious I don't know how design works). it's a nice shade of red, I really like how the front looks... my issue with this one is that low key it is the marlboro logo that makes it particularly distinctive. kinda feels against the spirit of the whole thing, damn those tobacco companies and their lovely bike designs

here's mugello 2006, which in itself is a retro livery. I'll allow this one and I do think it's just?? very nice??

really pleasing dull colours, three shades that work together well, got something old fashioned to it. my main problem with this one is... I don't feel like it'd look as good on the current bikes? I don't know, this one works because of the kind of... soft curves of the front of the bike. I do also think quirky and a bit in your face just suit the current bikes better than trying to keep things too classy?

my general problem is that ducati history in motogp is like... we're working with a limited sample size. and when I go through the options I do find them a bit. meh. the thing is, right, the red bikes are nice, I do like the marlboro design, but it's also still essentially a red bike. and if you translate these designs to the current bike shape, it's not going to look THAT different to the bike they're riding any other week. the mugello 2006 probably does better on that account, but I don't know. I think I am kind of committed to making them all actually switch around colours here

so I was wondering if maybe you could delve into the superbikes archive? you could go for the 2001 livery, feat. bayliss (also a motogp race winner):

I think the silver pairs quite nicely with the black leathers... also I like it whenever the bit on the front where they put the number on has a slightly quirky shape. I'm not going to pretend like this is my all time favourite livery, but I do like it well enough! it'd translate well to the current bikes, would give us a proper switch-up, works quite nicely imo

and one more from superbikes, this from 2012:

this one isn't happening for a bunch of reasons, not least because I doubt the effenbert team is one that's remembered particularly fondly by ducati. still, it passes the 'does it look distinctive' test to me, making a 'what if you threw a pint of beer over a motorcycle' livery is at the very least something different

PRAMAC

there's a few different ways you could go here, but I'd just keep it simple and go for one of the years where the pramac logo is big on one side of the bike. here's harada in 2002:

not a bad logo! you've got the arrows and everything! you've also got another more subtle silver arrow in the middle of all the white, makes the whole thing feel quite dynamic. simple colours, very pramac. bold and brash

(you could go for the 2018 mugello livery too but I philosophically reject having a 'retro' livery from 2018)

GRESINI

another satellite team that's been around for a while, and my suspicion is they'll go for one of fausto gresini's liveries. none of those... really appeal to me... so I wanted to suggest one from their telefonica movistar days back in the mid noughties. that's right: I'm talking sete's livery:

in practise, this livery does deeply annoy me in 2004 to 2005 because - despite not being in the same factories - you've somehow managed to get both title rivals in pretty damn similar liveries. like, can I tell them apart? sure. but especially with the poorer video quality, is it really necessary to make it this tricky? well! no! but also sete had this livery before his title rival switched to yamaha, so he came first. I like this one a lot! I like the way the yellow is integrated, the chequered bits around the telefonica movistar logo, good helmet too. slightly unusual patterns for the win - there's quite a lot going on with the lines on this design but it all kinda comes together. I actually think you could make this one look really good on the modern bikes, and it has a real spark and flare to it. also I would find it narratively pleasing if marc rides with sete's livery

but if gresini wants to go another way, shout out to their 2010 livery (several of the early 2010s look quite similar):

I'm not the biggest fan in the world of white liveries, but the style of this one pleases me idk. there's a slightly unusual shape on the side of this one, which I've already said I approve of. it's a nice shade of red to pair with the white. not my first pick, but I'd settle for this one

VR46

right, this is one where I really have questions. ... are they allowed to use just any of valentino's old liveries? what are the rules here? I think to maybe keep things straightforward here, I'll avoid his actual honda and yamaha liveries (those kids are not getting the gp11/12 let's be real) and stick to the lower class ones. now... those are aprilia liveries, and if aprilia wants to use some of those then please have at it. otherwise: vr46, lads, this is the way you want to go. here's 1999 (though 1998 also looks lovely):

one where the leathers and helmet really feels like a part of the design, like that's the bit that really completes the look. the dark grey base tone works as something you can layer all the fun stuff on. the font of the numbers! the warm reds and yellows! the stickers! this one's just FUN, it has a real adolescent verve and joy to it

and of course there's the mugello 1999 special livery:

she's so pretty!! recognisable! I don't even know what to say about this one apart from. look. it's fun. just something youthful and joyous and energetic to the whole thing... keeps things pretty straightforward on the colour front, the dark orange-brown highlights really brings it all together. or something

APRILIA

so. here's another question. are we just stuck with premier class liveries here? because if so, it's pretty slim pickings... but look, thirty images, we're not getting into everything they've been up to in the lower classes

luckily, aprilia do have quite a nice 2002 entry in the premier class:

dark colours are fun sometimes!! I like the shape of the ms logo! it's a bit chaotic, but in a fun way! it feels very aprilia, somehow. this would be my pick I think, I could easily transpose this to the current bikes in my mind's eye. aprilia kinda feels like it's supposed to be a bit chaotic, all those bits sticking off. love the red sleeves of the leathers

you could also go for the 2004 livery:

I'm not personally? super into the white and gold as a combination? definitely prefer the darker base colour of 2002. but it's quite distinctive - the red sleeves actually pop out more in this one. it's neat!

TRACKHOUSE

uh. um. uh. are they... allowed to run petronas colours? I mean it's basically still the same team? maybe they can borrow some aprilia ones? if not, then well they're the rahh rahh america team. I would ask ducati very nicely if maybe they could use this indianapolis 2009 livery in honour of the late nicky hayden:

I know you probably can't do that, but well! if you could, that'd be my pick for them! I like stars, america has stars on their flags, this is very rahh rahh america. the helmet and liveries are also fun and have stars on them. that's all I've got, sorry

KTM

okay, we've got an even bigger problem than aprilia here. these guys have NOT been in motogp long enough. my idea here was... so obviously ktm just do not have a suitable back catalogue of liveries, but aren't they like basically red bull? and red bull did like. a one off partnership with suzuki for laguna 2005, and suzuki isn't even in the sport any more so it's not like there's a CLASH there. I don't know how this works! whatever. I think it's nice!

it's not the most exciting thing I've ever seen in my life, but the red bull logo works well on the black. looks classy! and if suzuki gets mad then well red bull can just chuck money at them idk

the other option is... doesn't ktm own mv agusta now? go for one of those! they look quite similar for much of a decade, so I could have included another hailwood photo here - but I'm just going to use the early seventies mv agusta instead:

it's very simple, very basic. I'm not... sure this works on bikes these days. anyway I chose this one over its predecessor because I do like the stripes on the leathers, very adidas coded. if you can figure out how to make this whole design look good for the more complex bikes of today, then this would be a good pick imo. I like quirky shapes to put my numbers on... but sometimes circles are also good

TECH3

so. for a while, these are running the gauloises yamaha liveries, which we've already covered. maybe they could take the fortuna yamaha liveries instead that they used, especially if the factory yamaha squad doesn't want the kinda similar ones they ran at certain points. basically they're the red yamahas in the noughties. I'd go for 2004 tech3, which... y'know, the fortuna font is just quite nice, they're stylish liveries, they're just bikes you look at and go 'wow that sure is a nice bike'. and yes, we do need to at this point also mention the estoril 2004 spiderman livery

all I'm saying, if pedro acosta does not show up to silverstone on the spiderman bike. a part of me will be disappointed

otherwise, I thought the dunlops in 2007 were quite nice?

yes, yes, it's another yellow and black yamaha livery. but hey, it's a bit different from the one they referenced at laguna 2005, keeps things fresh. wouldn't mind this one

IN CONCLUSION

might add to these at some point, but those are kinda the first picks that come to mind! a lot of these are annoyingly recent, because most teams on the grid aren't that old. not quite sure what the rules of the game are here! which does mean that, as much as I enjoy the recent designs, I kinda hope honda and yamaha don't go for liveries from this century and dig a bit deeper in the archives

basically, what I'm looking for from the teams is a retro livery that a) is clearly recognisable to anyone familiar with said past livery, b) works with the actual shape of the current bike, c) looks different enough from their current livery, I want colour swaps, and d) looks cool. also, they should coordinate. istg if half of the grid shows up in white liveries... hopefully at least some of the teams will go for the fun ones!

[immortalsins]

first freehand machine embroidery in over a year lmao | 31/08/23

[unrelatabledude]

I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore I just know that I'm harder to console I don't see who I'm trying to be instead of me But the key is a question of control

(becomes obsessed with desire again) oh fuck just like high school

[oflgtfol]

girl i fucking hate this subreddit so much

[adventurousblur]

@smileimi ✰ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ a scoff from the much smaller hedgehog. ❝look, i don't care who you say you are, that's no reason to go around stealing what isn't yours! ❞ an accusatory finger points at the gem craned in the blue blur's hand. ❝that belongs here.❞ it was this pinkette's truth. for all she knew, this chaos emerald, as the other called it, was stationed in this building. and it was her turn to look after it, per her boss.

                          » » »                          NOW LOADING…

THE PROMISE OF A CHAOS EMERALD was too sweet to pass up; after all, he knew they had immediately scattered after their usage on the islands. Eager to stretch his rested legs and gift said item to Tails, Sonic wasted no time in following the chaos energy murmuring beneath peach skin, finally stumbling upon a large structure in the nearby forest of Central City. It seemed as if this strange building was [ thankfully ] left unguarded; absent of any souls even as the hedgehog snapped up the gem.

. . . Until a high-pitched voice suddenly began to yell.

❝ Huh? ❞ What was Amy doing here, out of all places? He thought she'd gone out for her own adventures just after their group PARTED. Ear twitched once, twice as Sonic listened to her speak; he waited until the hedgehog was finished to shout his piece. Reasoning was out of the question [ why was she acting like they didn't know each other? ], so the hero tucked his prize away before shouting at the pink outline-

❝ LOOK- ❞ A mirror to her first word, chosen on purpose of course. ❝ I don't know who you are, but you're definitely not my Ames. Wait a sec . . . did Eggman do this? ❞ Don't tell him this was gonna be another Shadow situation . . .

[reginrokkr]

𝐂𝐕𝐈𝐈. Dáinsleif's resilience in the face of not losing his sense of self.

The previous rant in the tags made me think once again about the insane level of resilience Dain has to not lose himself or fall into madness. Because there are too many factors against him that would make it so easy for him to lose his mind: a curse that inflicts him chronic pain and that is slowly replacing his mind and soul with the putrefaction of the all-too-tempting Void. A genuine grocery list of traumas and other emotional damage that I'm sure that the Abyss Order exploits to try to get to him, because what other choice do they have when nothing works against him and all they do is run away from him? Without mentioning that it's canon that he still struggles with nightmares of bloodshed and it wouldn't be odd to presume that he self-chastizes himself for what happened even if he couldn't have done anything to amend for other Khaenri'ahns mistakes or fight against who knows how many gods descended to Khaenri'ah. Knowledge factor is also one that could be very detrimental even if it's widely considered a gift to be this wise and have all knowledge at the reach of his fingertips, because sometimes knowing too much is enough to drive one mad. Others could've lost it for being unable to accept the reality the world at large is facing— it's one of the reasons Nahida seems to spread knowledge in riddles so it's up to the knowledge seekers to unearth the true meaning of them as opposed to give it all at once on a tray due to the consequences it might have.

Considering that Irminsul seems to oppose however it can the Void until it's too much for it to handle it anymore, I have no doubt that it plays a large role in keeping Dain's sanity intact even after 500 years when others wouldn't have succeeded. But I'm also a firm believer that no matter if you give someone the tools to fend for themselves, if the person in question doesn't do the work they won't go anywhere even if they have everything they need to do just that. We only see in small glimpses how tired Dain is and that after all this time, very specific events can shake him to the core (like in Requiem of the Echoing Depths when he was lamenting that he was late to save those poor Hilichurls, the BSK and Halfdan) and while it's a common thing in the fandom to see him siding with the Abyss Order because of the Abyss Twin (in this blog we don't talk about that :|), I think that it's disregarded a lot how strong he is for still holding true to who he is and do what's right for the majority of the population in Teyvat, even if that means going against the people he once protected in Khaenri'ah.

[kaerran]

nearly eleven years in and i only have ~45 rows left.... of back and forth and back and forth.......

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[emotionalsupportdman]

MAYBE IT WOULD BE HELPFUL IF HENRY COULD TAKE WHAT HE COULD HANDLE AND ALEX COULD HANDLE THE REST

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: KISS & MAKE UP

✩ ‧ ˚. streamer!au: after the breakup, you two decide to make up in the traditional way—by having sex! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. oral (f. recieving), p –> v, teasing, praise, hair pulling (m. recieving), missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, use of pet names (too many to list here). not proofread bc you couldn't pay me to read all this again. 2.5k words. read this fic beforehand for better understanding of the context, but you don't have to.

author's note: tumblr hates me and that's why the banner quality's trash. if u wanna see the details, click here. anyways the streamer!gojo smut has finally arrived, tagging @satorena @screampied @cultrise, enjoyyy ;)

“did you tell them we’re back together?”

satoru nods in response to your question, plopping down on the couch next to you. he's spent the last hour chatting with his stream, and eventually he broke the news that you and him were back together after the breakup.

“yeah, i did,” he confirms, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. your hands automatically move to his hair and you thread your fingers through the soft white strands, pausing after a couple seconds to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

a week ago, you and satoru had an admittedly messy breakup—not messy in the sense that it got toxic or dramatic, but messy in the way that it could’ve easily been avoided. it wasn’t that big of a deal, but thankfully, you and satoru resolved your misunderstanding within a relatively short time.

since then, things have been a little different—satoru’s been taking a break from streaming, which gave him move time to spend with you and away from his thousands of fans. it was his suggestion, and not surprisingly, it worked. but all good things have to come to an end, and your “honeymoon” away from satoru’s stream seems to be coming to a close.

“something smells good,” satoru notes, lifting his head and glancing at the kitchen. “wait, is that ramen?” your boyfriend gasps, eyes rounding as he looks at you hopefully. 

“yeah, you said you were craving it, so i made some,” you reply with a smile, untangling yourself from his arms and walking over to the kitchen. satoru blows you a flurry of kisses that you see out of the corner of your eye as you check on the ramen, which looks pretty much done.

“y’know, i still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week,” you say dryly, turning off the stove and draining the water from the ramen into your sink. the steam rises up as the boiling water slips down into the drain, clouding your face for a moment before it dissipates into thin air. 

“...does that mean i don’t get to eat that ramen?” satoru asks tentatively, a nervous smile on his lips as you empty a packet of flavored powder into the ramen. you shoot him a look and raise an eyebrow, turning back to the stove to hide your smile.

“maybe, maybe not,” you reply coyly, not wanting to give in too soon.

“boo, you whore.”

you roll your eyes and divide the ramen into two bowls, one for you and one for your boyfriend. “you’re lucky i’m too nice to let you starve, regina,” you say pointedly, walking back over to the couch and handing one of the bowls to him, which satoru takes with both hands—a habit from his childhood that never went away. “otherwise you’d be—”

satoru cuts you off by poking your lips with his chopsticks, steaming hot ramen wrapped around them. you reluctantly open your mouth and let him feed you, smiling when he seals the bite with a kiss. 

“best girlfriend ever,” satoru proclaims when he pulls away, a lazy smile playing on his lips. his soft blue eyes study your own, observing your unusually guarded expression and frowning.

“how many times do i gotta apologize for my bullshit before you stop making that face at me?” he grumbles, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl and taking a bite of the ramen. it’s cute how satoru’s face lights up at the taste, and it’s even cuter how his eyes round at you in awe when he takes another bite. “i didn’t know instant ramen could be this good,” he muses, licking any lingering flavor off of his lips.

“very funny, satoru,” you laugh, swirling your chopsticks around the broth and watching the rest of the steam rise from your bowl. “and to answer your question, i don’t really know.”

satoru tilts his head and takes a sip of his water, ice clinking against the side of the glass. when you respond to his question, he pauses and tilts his head in confusion. “...wait, what does that mean?”

you think for a second, choosing your words carefully. “i’m not sure how long it’ll take until we’re back to… normal,” you say cautiously. in all honesty, you weren’t that pissed off at him—you never were. but the fact that satoru was so ready to throw your relationship away over something as small as that was upsetting, to say the least. and you weren’t entirely sure it wouldn’t happen again.

satoru looks at you thoughtfully, more serious than you’ve seen him in a while. you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he replies. “any idea how i can make it up to you?”

you shrug, swallowing another bite of ramen before you meet his eyes. “you tell me. actions speak louder than words.”

your boyfriend drops his chopsticks, letting them clatter around in the bowl before he stands up. he extends a hand to you, a determined glint in his eye. “then lemme prove it to you.”

“satoru, you can’t bribe me with sex.”

“that’s not all i’ll be doing, sweetheart. trust me.”

and that’s how you ended up in his room, hands tangled in satoru’s soft white hair as he eats you out. his tongue laps at your cunt with quick, kitten-like strokes, and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. “feels s’good, satoru,” you breathe, involuntarily tugging on his hair and dragging out a groan from his lips. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” satoru mumbles in reply, nose brushing against your dripping thighs as his tongue slips past your folds and goes in deeper. he looks up and locks eyes with you, unable to resist smiling at the way your legs tremble around him. “aw, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue in and out of your cunt with a grin. “and i’m the one who should be—fuck, you’re gorgeous—apologizing.”

this isn’t the first time satoru’s eaten you out, but it feels like it every single time—somehow, his tongue has a talent of rendering you unable to focus on anything else but him. you grind your hips against satoru’s face, eyes squinted shut as your boyfriend flattens his tongue before lapping your slick up with cloudy eyes. “shit, i don’t know what i’d be without you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady—and something about his tone makes you certain he’s being completely honest with you.

“you’re so—fuck, satoru, i’m gonna cum,” you breathe, back automatically arching when satoru’s tongue reaches that spot inside you. he laughs, and the vibration of the soft sound against your puffy, sensitive cunt almost makes your legs give out—but thankfully, satoru’s hands are secured around your thighs, holding you in place. “‘toru, i can’t—”

“yeah, y’can, just relax that pretty pussy for me,” he cooes, licking up the slick dripping down his chin. “c’mon, you’re doing so good f’me, keep going, baby.” and just like that, his tongue slips out of your cunt and he lets you cum—the sheer force of your orgasm hits you like a truck, and your hips roll against satoru’s face in a choppy rhythm as you desperately ride it out, hands gripping and accidentally yanking his hair.

you stutter out his name a couple more times, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of satoru’s mouth on your sensitive, gushing pussy. your boyfriend praises you the whole way, gently murmuring soft words about how sweet you are for letting him taste you, even while your relationship was rocky. when your voice steadies enough for satoru to make out what you’re begging him to do, he’s not at all surprised to hear you plea for him to fuck you—so stands up and tugs you down onto his bed, hand intertwined with yours as he pulls the sheets over your bodies. 

you squeeze satoru’s hand and lean in to kiss him, chest still heaving from your earlier orgasm. naturally, you miss his lips and end up kissing the side of his face, which is flushed bright red from the way his body reacts to the taste of your pussy. “don’t ever leave me like that again,” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes for some reason—maybe it’s the lovesick way satoru looks at you, or maybe it’s the way he’s holding onto you like there’s no place he’d rather be.

“i won’t,” satoru promises, pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead and pulling your head into his chest. his lips touch the top of your head as he murmurs, “and if i do, shoot me.” it sounds like a joke, but you both know that he’s dead serious.

“good thing i won’t have to do that,” you say with a soft giggle. your smile is heart-achingly familiar to satoru, and it feels like home—and that’s the realization that has him stripping off what little clothing the two of you still have on before he climbs on top of you. 

satoru touches the tip of his dick to your pussy, waiting for your nod to allow him to go in all the way. after a second, you dip your chin and trail your fingers down satoru’s jaw, grabbing his chin and pulling him down into another kiss. his lips linger for a couple seconds, still-minty breath tickling your face, before he pulls away. satoru slowly lowers his hips and nudges his dick inside of your desperate cunt, hands resting on either side of you.

even though it’s only been a little over a week since you last had sex with satoru, it feels like it’s been forever—your boyfriend curses when he feels how tight you are, mumbling something about missing you “so fucking much” as he goes in deeper and deeper. it hurts a little at first, but you quickly get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“fuckin’ hell, i’m never gonna get tired of this,” satoru breathes, dipping his head and kissing your collarbone. a single drop of sweat drips down the side of his face as he watches you squirm, eyes soft and endearing as you do so. he starts rolling his hips back and forth against you to loosen you up a little, dragging out soft moans from you as he does so. 

“yeah, you better not,” you mutter, tilting your head back and drawing in a long breath of air. you can’t remember the last time you felt this good—maybe it was the last time satoru fucked you. “satoru, y’re going so slow—”

your boyfriend cuts you off with a particularly harsh thrust, making your body jolt against his mattress. satoru lifts his head and looks you in the eye, a breathy laugh slipping out of him when he sees the pout on your lips. “the fuck you mean, i’m going slow? you want me to tear you apart? silly girl,” he tuts, back to his usual cocky self. he shakes his head and goes deep enough in you to force you to arch your back, starting to grin at the way you paw at his chest. “always so selfish, aren’t you?” he cooes, dipping his head and giving you a sloppy kiss on the forehead. “but you’re always—so—fuckin’—sweet,” satoru whispers, punctuating each word with a thrust hard enough for you to moan out his name more times than you can count.

“you’re the selfish one,” you mumble, lips trembling enough to muffle your voice. satoru huffs out a sigh and kisses your mouth, teeth gently brushing against your bottom lip. “you broke up with me for no reason,” you continue, tears pricking at your eyes again. “you think i’m gonna forgive you this fast?” 

satoru shakes his head again and caresses the side of your face. “will you?” he asks, slowing his pace enough for you to notice. you mutter something about him edging you on purpose, to which satoru shushes you and repeats his question.

“maybe.”

“you gotta stop giving me maybe’s, baby—y’re drivin’ me crazy here.”

in the past week, satoru’s done so much for you, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. on the day after your breakup, he picked you up from your house and took you for a picnic entirely curated by him. on the second day, he made you breakfast, lunch and dinner—it wasn’t the best food you ever had, but it was definitely the most memorable (in more ways than one). on the third day, he took you out to your favorite amusement park and did everything he could to make you smile—by then, you had pretty much forgiven him, and the giant teddy bear he dropped in your bedroom only made you love him more. the rest of the days were filled with longing glances and little gifts left around your house, which only helped him earn more and more of you back.

so, you figure that satoru deserves what comes next.

“okay,” you whisper. 

satoru’s eyes widen and he hesitates before he tentatively asks, “does this mean—”

you don’t let him finish his question, instead grabbing his face and tugging him down into a full kiss. he lets out a soft hm? in surprise, but kisses you back more than gratefully. “c’mon, make me cum,” you breathe when he finally pulls away. satoru nods dazedly and mouths “i love you” before he goes back in you, pace faster than before.

one of his hands snakes down to your waist, holding it in pace while the other caresses your face. you gaze up at him with a soft smile, eyes fluttering open and closed every time his dick hits your sweet spot—which is more times than your body can handle, but you welcome the feeling of him deep inside of you. after barely a couple thrusts, a coil forms in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with each movement of satoru’s hips. 

satoru laughs, chest heaving as he grins down at you cheekily. “i knew you’d forgive me,” he murmurs, pinching your cheek affectionately. “m’ so sorry—”

“shut up and fuck me,” you interrupt, tongue starting to loll out of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming all over satoru’s dick. 

“as you wish, princess.”

satoru’s breathing slowly changes, becoming more choppy and uneven the closer you watch him get to his high—it’s so, so close for both of you, and when it comes, it takes over both of your minds like a drug. satoru curses and groans out your name, thrusts growing sloppy as he desperately rides out his orgasm. cum shoots out from his dick and coats the inside of your cunt white, dripping out once you physically can’t take any more.

you run your hands all over satoru’s body, clawing and gripping at every inch of skin you can latch onto—satoru’s always been your anchor, and you hope that he always will be. one of his hands leaves the side of your face and tangles with your fingers, holding it down against the mattress as he promises to never screw you over like that again, and you’re only too welcoming to him and his words as you squirt all over his dick. “fuck, satoru—”

he lifts his eyes and meets your own, and unlike you, his vision is clearer than ever. “shoot me if i ever leave you again, baby. i’m serious.”

you raise a shaky hand and touch the side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you murmur, “i know i won’t have to.”

[tacit-semantics]

Finally started making the net for this lace 41x41 squares which in theory is not a lot but when you have the attention span of a flea. Well.

[goldenstring6123]

hello ! wanted to say i really love your writing style and your stories for the characters ! I wanted to know if you’d write one for Love and deep space Sylus? A scenario where you’re both sleeping but you sneak away quietly to get something from the kitchen or for whatever reason but he stops you with his powers (the handcuffs etc) to bring you back to bed. I’m not sure if i’m making sense but something along those lines! please and thank you!

Sylus: Kitchen Sneaker

Warning: No warning. Fem!reader, domestic fluff (?)

Author's note: This is a fun domestic-ish prompt to write! I hope you like it my dear pookies <3

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Sylus was fast asleep beside you.

The man was a light sleeper for the sake of his own safety. According to him, even if the building was as secure as it could be, there were some instances where he woke up with a knife to his throat. However, ever since you began sharing the same bed, he had been sleeping like a log, which was good for him and the twins because they no longer had to deal with his hot head so early in the evening.

But it was bad for you. Simply because Sylus likes to hold you in his sleep. Sometimes his hand would be over your chest, groping your breast or squeezing in between your boobs, but most times, he would be holding your wrist, checking your pulse. How was this bad for you? Well, living alone for most of your adult life, you liked to indulge yourself in a midnight snack or two. With him holding you captive to the bed, his iron grip holding on to you, it was like you had a ball and chain around your body.

You've indulged Sylus for over a week now, but the intense midnight craving is overwhelming.

Tonight, it's food over Sylus. The man can wait. Food cannot.

You scooted his hand very, very, very gently away from your body. This man's hand is heavy and large. Sylus didn't move and continued to sleep peacefully, his exposed chest rising and falling calmly. The room was very cold, and you could even hear the blowing of the AC; it was at that moment that you realized how such small sounds seemed to be so loud at night.

With every step you take, you are holding your breath even more. Even against the carpet, the rustling of your feet seemed like it could stir Sylus awake at any second. Thankfully, you managed to traverse across the room like a spy. You even had to carefully close the door shut.

You used the stairs to get down to the kitchen, and while you were walking in the hallway, the chef was just about to leave, his satchel bag on his shoulder.

He and you made eye contact. You gestured to him to 'shush,' and he laughed.

"There's some leftover dessert and pasta in the fridge—feel free to eat it," he whispered, and you grinned, giving him a thumbs up. Greg is the best chef ever. You tiptoed to the kitchen, waving him goodbye. Your eyes landed on that double-door fridge that was whirring loudly.

Finally! You could taste that delicious panna cotta and aglio olio in your mouth. Your hands wrapped around the handle of the fridge, and as you tugged, the bright blue light of the fridge lit up your face.

You took the plate and settled it on the stainless steel counter. The next one was the small glass filled with chocolate and cream. You marveled at its delicate, savory look. You took a spoon from the nearby utensil holder and dug it into the soft texture, eager to get a taste.

Before it could land between your lips—

A cold whirlwind of black, scentless smoke wrapped around the fork. It flung out of your grasp, and before you could let out a peep, you, too, were flung away from the kitchen counter.

The man let out a grunt, his eyes low-lidded and foggy, clearly just woken up from his slumber.

"Pray tell," he gruffed, his voice an octave lower. "What are you doing in the kitchen? You're supposed to be in bed." Sylus let out a sigh while he brought you closer to him. He glanced behind you and saw the unopened plate of pasta and panna cotta.

"Never mind. You don't need to speak."

"I'm hungry! Don't you know you shouldn't get between a woman and her food?" you exclaimed while tugging at the thing around your exposed waist. You thrashed and thrashed, the straps of your nightshirt sliding down your shoulders. "Put me down and go back to bed! I'll be with you in five—no, fifteen minutes!"

His head was aching from all the noise you were making, and combined with the fact that you were out of bed by the time he woke up—to Sylus, it seemed like you were testing his patience. "Did you not eat enough during dinner time? You know you could've asked for second servings."

"I get midnight cravings on occasion, but when I'm sleeping over, you tend to weigh me down in bed," you explained, flailing your legs, which were a few feet off the ground.

"So, you're blaming me now?" Sylus raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. Of course, you were. It wasn't your fault you couldn't get out of bed, and it wasn't your fault that the chef made great food and desserts. He didn't like the look on your face but, regardless, put you down to the floor, his hand tugging your strap over your shoulders. His red eyes glazed over your bare chest, but he turned away, walking to that lonely plate of pasta.

"We're going back to sleep after you have your fill." Sylus unwrapped the plate and took a fork, twirling it and taking a bite. The oily, mild tinge of spiciness and Parmesan helped push him awake. He won't deny that the chef was good at his job—it was even enough for you to sneak out of his bed.

You mounted yourself onto the kitchen island, the cold marble surface cooling the bottom of your thigh. You took the panna cotta, and finally, the creamy and sweet flavor of chocolate and cream exploded in your mouth. Unconsciously, you nodded in approval of the taste.

Quietly, you ate in each other's company, occasionally making small talk. Sylus left the dish in the sink along with the fork, but when he turned to you, your nose was inside the refrigerator again. "Cake roll slice…" you uttered. The strawberry cake roll looked delicious inside the glass container.

Before you could even reach out to it, the smoke appeared at the very same spot, dragging you away from the fridge. Sylus closed the double-door refrigerator and crossed his arms right in front of you. A clear 'no' was plastered all over his face.

You let out a groan as he dragged you away with the smoky black and red rope around your waist.

When you got back to the bedroom, you expected Sylus to go right back to sleep. But instead, the man pulled a handcuff from underneath his pillow. How and why it was, there was a question you didn't want to ask him. Without another word coming out of his mouth, he chained it to himself and took hold of your wrist.

"No. You're not going to—"

He latched the real handcuff around your wrists and laid down on the bed, dragging you with him.

"Sleep."

The lights dimmed and flickered off at his word, and you just lay there, staring up at the canopy.

"I guess this is our bedtime routine now," you sighed.

"Sleep," he reiterated.

You seriously have no idea how you put up with this man.

Author footnotes: I also like to sneak out to the kitchen and eat but instead of sylus, It's my mom who sees me and then i get the clothes hanger beat up for staying up late at night lol.

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