#filed: perfectly in sync

[saddleups]

you're single handedly feeding all the james sunderlanders tysm for ur service 🙏🙏🙏 can i request if you'd do submissive pathetic james? he's just sooo wet cat in a box left in the rain vibes. again, tysm in advance & lovelovelove ur work 🫡🫡🫡

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 5k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . request , complete. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . sub!james . slight fem!dom . handcuffs . cock torture(?) . cervix kissing . breeding ( kinda ) p_rn with a plot !

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . omg i wouldn't go that far ! there's so many great writers out there feeding us all <3 i appreciate the kind words tho ?? like ur too sweet <3 <3 trying my hand at being more confident with my exposition ( tend to delete a lot out of fear that it just sounds rambly ) so it may flow differently than my other stuff , i still hope u like it tho !!

Kind and attentive, James was always perfectly in sync, never too early or too late. He opened doors, walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street, steering you clear of puddles and surprises. Every morning began with his texts, every night ended the same. Sweet surprises, from flowers to stuffed bears, little notes in his distinct handwriting—I was thinking of you. In bed, his touch was just as intimate, hands locked, eyes meeting, searching each other deeply, with neither of you leaving unsatisfied.

Yet, despite the warmth of his affection, a nagging thought persisted: were you giving James the attentiveness he secretly craved? Something seemed to linger in him, an unspoken kink kept close, like a shy confession he wasn’t ready to make. You found yourself distracted by it, craving to claw into the mystery of what he kept hidden. James Sunderland had seen so many sides of you, held you in your most vulnerable moments. You could feel him pushing you to the edge, waves cresting in those unforgettable, mind-bending orgasms that left a faint blush in your cheeks when the memory caught you off guard in public. Still, you yearned to uncover his own desires; fulfill him in the same sense he fulfilled you.

It was a simple date to the mall, his hand holding yours as you strolled the tiled floors under bright fluorescent lights. He soothed you, indulged your whims. And when you passed the shop—kitschy and dimly lit with laughing teens slipping in and out—a sudden idea sparked.

“Let’s go in here.” You didn’t give James much of a choice, tightening your grip and pulling him inside. The shop started tame enough—T-shirts, quirky collectibles—but deeper inside, past a beaded curtain, the lights dimmed. Shelves were lined with rows of phallic toys, vibrating bullets, and skimpy costumes. You glanced at James, noting his hands tucked into his pockets, his expression steady. He didn’t seem fazed by the setting, unlike you, whose pulse had picked up, curiosity running hot as you wondered what was on his mind.

You watched his gaze flick to a BDSM kit, then quickly away. You raised an eyebrow, reading nothing from him as he moved on. Maybe he's into that? A school girl costume caught his eye next, the model on the package striking a bold, risqué pose. Is it roleplay? He only shook his head, lips quirking, dismissing the thought. Okay, not that either.

You broke the silence with a grin. “I used to have one of these,” you said, tapping a box with a vibrator behind a clear, glittery window. Mutual masturbation? It had to be.

James turned, slightly intrigued. “What?”

You shrugged. “It was cute, but it kept dying on me.”

He only smiled, and your theory about mutual kinks dissolved a bit more. Not that either? Just when you thought your plan had fallen flat, you caught his gaze settling on a different item—a pair of classic handcuffs, fluffy pink like in the movies. Tame, yet there was something in his eyes. You reached over, fingertips brushing his arm as he shivered under your touch. So, it is the handcuffs.

You lingered a second longer, voice low. “Ready to go?”

James nods as you exit the store, hand in hand just as you’d entered. Absent of the handcuffs, you start devising a new plan. “Shoot! —I think I left my phone in there.”

You rummage through your bag, feigning worry. “Must’ve set it down when I picked up that box.” You glance up to see James’ hand resting on his chest, his heartbeat quickening, reassuring your suspicions concerning the cuffs. “Stay here; I’ll be right back.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Sure you don’t want me to come with?”

You flash him a quick smile. “It'll be quick. Don’t miss me too much.”

Inside the shop again, you move swiftly to the shelf, snatching up the handcuffs and stuffing the small black bag deep into your purse before heading back. Adrenaline pumping through your veins as you rejoin James, he asks, “Want to catch a movie?”

You shake your head, a little grin tugging at your lips. “I’m a bit tired. Let’s head home.”

He agrees quickly—maybe too quickly, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to catch a hint of nervous anticipation in his eyes. You're reassured. It is the handcuffs.

As he drives, the silence between you is thick with tension, each mile seeming to stretch. The new toy in your purse become impossible to ignore, the mere thought of them swirling in your mind. Your plans with the cuffs still in the air, unsure what your intentions were, what James' could be. Meanwhile, James keeps his gaze steady on the road, one hand resting on your thigh, his slender fingers gently pressing against you—a subtle but treasured touch. Your mind adrift at the sight of the manicured nails, he kept them pristine. His wrist, stronger than it looked it's held you down on multiple occasions as he thrusted into you. And when he wasn't? Those pretty fingers circled on your clit, exposing the hood of your bud in order to allow his mouth to work until your undoing. Biting your lip you fiend your hunger, keeping it dormant until your plans come into fruition.

"At the shop," James cuts the silence. "What was that, that thing? The one that you said kept dying on you."

You blink, "the vibrator?"

"Yeah, vibrator... That's the word."

"What about it?"

"Nothing," he shrugs.

Unwilling to accept his answer, you press him. "You wouldn't bring it up if it was nothing."

James chuckles stealing a quick glance. "You caught me." He confesses lightheartedly, "those...toys always interested me."

Fuck. You should've grabbed the vibrator.

Your heart races as you realize you may have misread the situation. Even so, you're not about to let this opportunity slip away. "Really?" you ask, trying to keep your voice casual. "What interests you about them?"

James hesitates, his fingers tightening slightly on your thigh. It's hard not to notice his possessive edge, only furthering your doubts. "I guess... the intensity. The way they can make someone lose control."

You swallow hard, heat blooming in your core. "Have you ever used one before?"

He shakes his head. "No, never."

"Well," you say, your voice low and teasing, "maybe we can go back another time and pick one out together."

James' grip on your thigh tightens slightly. "I'd like that," he says softly.

God, were your plans for the night ruined?

The car pulls into your driveway, and James cuts the engine. For a moment, you both sit in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. James opens your car door as always, ever the gentleman. Inside, you set your purse down carefully, acutely aware of its hidden contents; feeling foolish for your possible blunder. However, one thing is for certain; the experience in the shop must've had an effect on him. The conversation about your vibrator, the pretty fluffy cuffs. It was still thrilling, keeping this from him like a dirty little secret. The plan still forming in your head had you battling with how to introduce the object to the bedroom. He didn't seem into the roleplay, BDSM was, well...that was something.

James moves to the kitchen, falling into his usual routine of making tea. He asks if you’re interested in having a cup yourself, you shake your head. “I’m okay, thank you.”

You watch James as he sips his tea, his long fingers wrapped around the delicate porcelain cup. You watch him from across the kitchen, admiring the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. Steam rises in lazy curls, and you can smell the faint aroma of bergamot. He looks relaxed, at ease, and you wonder if he's forgotten about the tension from earlier. You certainly haven't. The handcuffs weigh heavily in your mind, tucked away in your purse like a guilty secret. You'd been so sure, so certain that you'd cracked the code of James' hidden desires. Now, doubt gnaws at you. What if you'd misread everything? What if the vibrator comment had been genuine curiosity, not a hint at a deeper kink?

You push the thoughts aside, determined to enjoy this quiet moment with James. Domestic bliss. He tells you about his day at work, about the new project he's excited about, and you listen, nodding and smiling at all the right moments. But your mind keeps drifting back to the handcuffs, the vibrator, you plans, your precious plans.

James excuses himself, saying he's going to take a shower before bed. He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead before leaving you in the kitchen. You let out a sigh and start thinking about where you may have hidden your vibrator. There's no way you threw it out; even though it died frequently, it was still there for you when you needed it. You hold your head in frustration until you finally decide to brave your panty drawer, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb James' shower.

After digging around for a bit, you find the glittery pink wand nestled in the back. It looks less phallic than you remember; perhaps it was too embarrassing to use such a lewd-looking tool. You unscrew the bottom and see that the batteries have died. Typical. With determination, you rush to the kitchen and rummage through the junk drawer until you find a spare set of batteries. You pop them into the vibrator and turn the dial, feeling a surge of relief as the motor whirs to life. The sound alone makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment and excitement. You quickly switch it off, straining your ears to ensure that the shower is still running. Relief washes over you as you hear the water splashing against the title.

Clutching your prize, you retrieve the black bag from your bag, before tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Heart racing as you place both items on the bedspread. Observing them with your hands on your hips, wondering how to introduce the two new toys into your bedroom routine.

James stands underneath the showerhead, the scalding water pelting his skin like a punishment. He pulls at his hair and bites his lip in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the torturous thoughts consuming him. The memories of that trip to the sex shop send a surge of arousal through him, instead of the expected shame. Images of you in lingerie and him bound in pink fluffy cuffs flood his mind, sending shivers down his spine. The mere mention of a vibrator had been enough to make him squirm with sinful desire. Your words saying such dirty things, it did things to him. His twisted desires boiling beneath the surface, threatening to consume him. James grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to suppress the rising heat in his core. But it's no use. His half-hard cock betrays him, twitching with need. Surrendering to his own perverse nature, he presses his forehead against the cold tile wall and clenches his fists above him. With one hand, he pumps his length in agonizing strokes, edging himself closer and closer to release until ribbons of hot cum collect in his palm before washing away down the drain, leaving him spent but still craving more.

The bathroom door creaks open, drawing your attention away from the pile of toys you were hastily trying to hide. James emerges, his muscular form barely concealed by a towel wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his toned chest, glistening in the soft light of the room. The towel sits low on his hips, revealing the v-shape that leads down to his happy trail - a dark patch of hair that looks enticingly natural and trimmed. Your heart races as he steps closer, your gaze unable to resist lingering on the course hair framing his girth. You try to act nonchalant, but you know he can see right through your flushed cheeks and nervous demeanor.

"Everything okay?" he asks, running a hand through his damp hair.

"Of course," you reply, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Just... thinking." Your voice trails, urging James’ curiosity. He raises a brow, “what about?”

You hesitate, caught between desire and uncertainty. The handcuffs and vibrator are hidden beneath the covers, but their presence feels electric, charging the air between you. James' eyes are dark, searching yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"I was thinking about... us," you manage, your voice low. "About what you might like."

James takes a step closer, the towel slipping dangerously low on his hips. "What I might like?" he repeats, his voice husky.

Your heart races as you nod. "In the shop, I noticed you looking at some things. I thought maybe..."

You trail off, unsure how to continue. James closes the distance between you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "What did you think?" he asks softly. There’s eagerness in his eyes, ones that mimicked your own. The moment stretches, taut with possibility. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. With a weak smile, you slide your hand underneath the pillow and retrieve the pink wand and pair of cuffs. James' eyes widen with disbelief as he looks down at the toys in your possession.

"I bought them," you say coolly, "the cuffs at least. The vibrator, it’s mine. I found it."

"It's the same one you used before?" he asks. His arousal builds as he seeks clarification. You can feel his tension and anticipation.

You nod, feeling a sense of power and control wash over you. "I used it all the time before I met you."

James swallows, his desire growing with each passing moment. He can't help but wonder what you have planned for him.

"What do you want to do with them?" you ask, noticing the shift in James' demeanor. He's waiting for your command, his naivety and innocence only adding to his appeal. There it was. It wasn’t the cuffs or the vibrator, it was your control he craved.

"Do you want me to use them on you, James?" you ask, your voice dripping with dominance.

His breath hitches and he nods eagerly, his eyes wide like a lost puppy begging for an owner.

But you're not satisfied with just a nod. You need to hear it from his lips, to make him submit completely.

"Answer me," you demand, your eyes boring into his with an intense heat. Your own confidence grows as you embody James' ultimate desire.

James swallows hard before finally giving in. "Y-yes," he stammers out, unable to resist your commanding presence.

"Yes?" you repeat, reveling in your newfound power over him.

“Yes, please.”

Your heart races at James' submission. You've unlocked something within him, a side he's kept hidden until now. With gentle authority, you guide him to the bed, pushing him down onto the soft sheets. His towel falls away, revealing his sculpted body in all its glory.

"Tell me everything," you whisper, trailing your fingers along his chest. "Every fantasy, every secret. I want to know it all."

James shivers under your touch, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've always wanted... to be at your mercy. To surrender control completely."

You nod, encouraging him to continue. He takes a shaky breath. "I imagine you tying me up, teasing me. Using toys on me, making me wait for your permission to come." His cheeks flush as he confesses, "Sometimes I think about you... using a….”

You nod, a thrill running through you at James' confession. "Go on," you urge softly.

James swallows hard, his voice wavering. "Sometimes I think about you... using a strap-on on me. Taking me completely."

Your breath catches at his words, a surge of heat flooding your core. You hadn't expected that, but the image it conjures is intoxicating.

"Is that what you want, James?" you ask, your voice low and husky. "You want me to fuck you?"

He nods, unable to meet your gaze. "Yes," he whispers. "Please."

You lean in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. When you pull back, your eyes are dark with desire. "We'll work up to that," you promise. "For now, let's start with these."

Dangling the handcuffs in front of James, watching his eyes widen with anticipation. "Hands above your head," you command softly, and he complies without hesitation. The metal clicks as you secure his wrists to the headboard, leaving him exposed and vulnerable beneath you. Your fingers trail down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "Such pretty boy," you murmur, drinking in the sight of him. James shivers under your touch, straining slightly against the restraints.

You reach for the vibrator, turning it on to its lowest setting. The soft buzz fills the air as you trace it along James' collarbone, down his sternum, circling his navel. He gasps, his hips lifting involuntarily.

"Someone’s excited," you chide gently. "Tell me more, James," you purr, trailing the vibrator along his inner thigh. "What other fantasies have you been hiding from me?"

James squirms, his breath coming in short gasps. "I... I've thought about you dominating me completely. Ordering me around, making me pleasure you in public places where we might get caught."

You reward his confession with a gentle buzz against his shaft, making him moan. "Go on," you encourage, completely enthralled by his unwinding state. His breath becoming irregular, eyes struggling to stay open. His fingernails digging into his palm, and his toes, digging into the comforter beneath him. Completely submissive to you and it hadn’t even been five fucking minutes.

"Sometimes," he continues, his voice strained, "I imagine you denying me release for days, keeping me on edge until I'm begging for your touch."

Your own arousal spikes at his words. You increase the vibrator's intensity, circling it around the base of his cock. "What else?"

James arches into your touch, pulling at the handcuffs. "I want you to use my body for your pleasure.” He gasps out, “to make me your toy, your plaything. I want to be at your mercy.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you. You've never seen James like this - so open, so vulnerable, so desperate for your touch. It's intoxicating.

"Such a good boy," you purr, rewarding him by sliding the vibrator up his shaft. James moans, his hips bucking involuntarily. "But I think you can do better. Tell me your deepest, darkest fantasy. The one you've never dared speak aloud."

James bites his lip, hesitating. You increase the vibrator's intensity, making him cry out. "Tell me," you demand softly.

"I... I want you to use me.” James gasps out, “to control me, to punish me when I disobey you.”

You hadn’t expected James to harbor such intense submissive desires. The power he’s surrendering to you intoxicates you. “Is that what you want, baby?” You purr, trailing the vibrator along his inner thigh away from his twitching cock already glistening with pre-cum. “To be all mine?”

He nods frantically, straining against the handcuffs. "Yes, please. I want to be yours completely."

You reward him by pressing the vibrator against the base of his cock, making him cry out. "Such a good boy," you murmur. "So honest for me."

James writhes beneath you, his his hips bucking desperately as you tease him with the vibrator. His confession has ignited a fire within you, unleashing a dominant side you didn't know you possessed.

"Look at you," you purr, drinking in the sight of him. "So needy, so desperate. And all mine."

You trail the vibrator along his shaft, circling the sensitive head. His saline blending onto the base of the vibrator until it shined. James moans, pulling at the handcuffs. "Please," he gasps.

"Please what?" you ask, your voice low and commanding.

"Please... touch me. Let me come. I need you so badly."

You smile, a wicked glint in your eye. "Oh baby, we're just getting started."

With a flick of your wrist, you turn off the vibrating wand and gaze at James' cum that had coated its base. He watches you with curious eyes, desperate for more of your attention. Sensing his desire, you bring the wand to your lips and kiss it, flicking your tongue against the salty residue of his pleasure. A jolt shoots straight to your core, igniting a fiery heat within you.

James lets out a low whimper as you lean in with a sly smirk, pressing your soft lips against his. You allow him to taste himself on you, driving him wild with desire. "Don't you taste so sweet?" you tease, knowing just how much he loves to hear you say it.

His reaction is like a drug to you, taking you to a place of pure ecstasy that you never knew existed. Slowly and deliberately, you begin to undress, each piece of clothing teasingly removed as James watches, mesmerized. He's always enjoyed the undressing aspect of sex, but now it's torture for him since it isn't him peeling away the layers of fabric. You take your time removing your flowy blouse, undoing the strings that hold it together and allowing it to gracefully fall from your shoulders. James can feel himself getting harder at the sight of your exposed skin. Next comes the silky camisole, adorned with delicate lace and a cute bow at the center. The mere sight of it makes James close his eyes in an attempt to control his overwhelming desire. He knows he could cum right then and there if he let himself give in completely.

But then you demand his attention by whispering firmly, "Eyes on me." His eyes shoot open in response.

"Yes, sorry," he stammers, unable to look away from your figure.

The camisole is slowly removed, revealing a simple jersey bra that may not have the same allure as lace, but it doesn't matter. Nothing can distract James from the beauty before him. Your bra comes off next, and with it, all of James' self-control begins to crumble. The fabric falls to the floor, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable before him. And he can hardly contain himself any longer. How is this possible? The thought races through his mind. I’m already so hard, god she’s making me harder. Is that possible?

Savoring the way James’ eyes devour you, his gaze burning with lust that can no longer be contained. His hands strain against the cuffs, desperate to touch you. Your hands move to the waistband of your skirt, slowly unzipping it and letting it pool at your feet. James' eyes hungrily take in every inch of newly exposed skin. You're left in just a pair of lacy panties, the final barrier between you.

"Do you want these off too?" you ask teasingly, hooking your thumbs under the waistband.

James nods frantically, straining against the handcuffs. "Yes, please," he begs.

You smile wickedly. "I don't know... I kind of like seeing you squirm."

You crawl onto the bed, straddling James' thighs. His erection strains against your inner thigh, hot and insistent. You grind against him slightly, making him groan.

"Tell me what you want, James," you purr, running your hands up his chest. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”

James' eyes are wild with desire, his chest heaving as he struggles against the handcuffs. "Please," he gasps, "I need to touch you. I'm dying. I’m going fucking crazy." The tears welling in the corners of his eyes begin to fall down his cheeks. What a sight, it almost leaves you breathless.

A soft laugh falls from you, trailing a finger down his chest. "Is that so? And why should I let you?"

"Because I'll do anything," James pleads, his voice thick with desperation. "Anything you want, anything you ask. I'll be your perfect plaything, your obedient servant. Just please, let me touch you."

You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. "Anything?" you whisper.

"Yes," James moans. "I'll worship every inch of your body. I'll pleasure you for hours, until you're trembling and begging for release. I'll let you use me however you want - tie me up, spank me, tease me. I'll be your good boy, your perfect toy. Just please, I need to feel you."

His raw desperation sends a thrill through you. You've never seen James like this - so needy, so vulnerable. "Such pretty words," you purr, nipping at his earlobe. "But I think you can do better."

You shift, positioning yourself so that your core hovers just inches above his straining erection. James whimpers, his hips bucking up fruitlessly.

"Tell me how badly you want me," you command softly. "Paint me a picture with your words."

James swallows hard, his eyes wild with lust. "I want you so badly it hurts," he gasps out. "Every inch of my body is on fire, fuck I need you. Please, please. Untie me. I need to fuck you.”

He’s biting at you, his desperation etched into the lines of his face. His eyes are wild, like a caged animal longing for freedom. You grip his cheeks tightly, your nails digging into the soft flesh and leaving red marks in their wake.

“Watch your tone,” you warn firmly.

“I’m sorry…I-I” he stammers, his breath ragged and uneven. “I’m sorry, please.” He exhales heavily, defeated. “I need to feel you, to fuck you.”

“Be specific,” you demand.

He licks his lips nervously. “I want to put my cock inside you,” he says boldly, his gaze never faltering from yours. “Deep inside, until it reaches your cervix. I want to worship you, to serve you.”

“Please,” he pleads again. “Untie me, I’m begging you. Please.” The desperation in his voice is palpable as he begs for release, not just from his restraints. Your resolve crumbles at James' desperate pleas. With trembling fingers, you reach up and unlock the handcuffs, freeing his wrists.

The moment he's unbound, James surges forward, crushing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. His hands are everywhere at once, roaming your body with frantic need, as if he's trying to memorize every curve and plane. The sound that elicits from your throat betrays your once dominating nature, but neither of you pay it any mind. Both of you hopelessly turned on, seeking for any form of release.

He flips you onto your back, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His mouth trails hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point. You arch into him, gasping as his teeth graze your collarbone.

"God, I've been dying to touch you," James growls against your skin. His hands cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebble under his touch. You moan, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging him. “Good boys deserve a reward,”

James' eyes light up at your words, a mix of excitement and lingering desperation in his gaze. He captures your lips again, the kiss deep and hungry. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting, exploring, as if he's trying to devour you whole. You respond with equal fervor, your hands roaming the planes of his back, nails raking lightly down his spine. He breaks away, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. His teeth graze your pulse point, making you gasp. "James," you breathe, arching into him.

His hands explore your body with reverence, as if he's mapping out every curve and dip. He cups your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebble under his touch. You moan softly, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging gently.

James tugs your earlobe with a bite, “can I put my cock in you?” He whispers.

"Tease me first.”

James gently pushes your legs apart, spreading you wide open before him. His eyes drink in the sight of you, pupils dilated with lust. Your panties are soaked through, the delicate lace darkened and clinging to your folds. James runs a finger along the damp fabric, making you shiver. "It’s so wet," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. He hooks his fingers under the waistband, slowly dragging the panties down your legs. The cool air hits your heated core, making you gasp.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers reverently, his fingers trailing up your inner thighs. "So perfect." James positions himself between your thighs, his cock hard and throbbing. He wraps his length in the damp fabric of your panties, groaning at the sensation. "You feel so good," he whispers, "even through this. I can't wait to be inside you."

“Please let me put it in.”

With a devilish smirk, James pulls your panties aside, revealing your glistening and eager cunt. He can practically taste your arousal and you swear you see him drool with hunger. “Fuck me, James. Show me how good of a boy you really are.”

James enters you, the cool dampness of your cunt enveloping him as he thrusts deep inside. In unison, both of you curse and scream profanities, calling out to some higher power as waves of ecstasy begin to rip through your bodies. His pace is slow and deliberate, each movement calculated to bring you closer to the edge. “Harder,” you beg, craving more.

“Harder, James,” you moan as he swallows hard, adjusting his body to hit just the right angle that will send both of you over the edge. With each thrust, your walls stretch and clench around him, unable to resist his powerful girth. It's a sensation that no toy could ever replicate. “You're so good for me,” you praise him, urging him on as he seeks out that spongey treasure inside of you.

And then he finds it. Your spongey, angelic cervix kissing the tip of his reddened cock. He knows he does when your legs start to buckle and your back arches in an almost unnatural way. Your body seizes with pleasure and surrender as a loud, guttural groan escapes your lips, surprised at the primal sound that can be made in the throes of passion.

“You're mine,” you growl possessively as James relentlessly pounds into you, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your bodies are slick with sweat, the scent of desire filling the air. The sound of skin slapping against each other echoes loudly in the room, fueling both of your lust. As James’ pace quickens and his breath hitches, you can sense his own release approaching.

Desperate to please him and yourself, you demand as firmly as you can, “James—James, be a good boy and cum for me okay?”

Too lost in the throes of passion, he nods blindly before gasping out, “Inside you?” His voice is strained with desire as he asks, “You want my hot cum inside your tight pussy?”

“Yes, James, please,” you moan desperately, writhing beneath him. In a final burst of ecstasy, James grips your hips tightly and releases himself deep inside you, claiming you completely as his own.

You both collapse in a sweaty, exhausted heap, your limbs tangled together as you struggle to catch your breath. The room is thick with the heady scent of sex and sweat, the air still vibrating with the echoes of your shared pleasure. James' weight presses you into the mattress, his body a warm, comforting presence above you. You can feel his heart thundering against your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The only sound is your ragged breathing slowly returning to normal. James nuzzles into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses against your damp skin. You run your fingers through his hair, reveling in the silky texture and the way he hums contentedly at your touch.

Slowly, reluctantly, James rolls off you, but he doesn't go far. He gathers you into his arms, pulling you close against his chest. You can feel the rapid beating of his heart gradually slowing as he holds you.

"That was..." James trails off, struggling to find the right words.

"Intense," you finish for him, your voice soft and a little hoarse.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I've never... I mean, I didn't know…"

You tilt your head up to look at him, seeing a mix of vulnerability and awe in his eyes. "Was it okay?" you ask, suddenly feeling a flicker of uncertainty. "I didn't push you too far, did I?"

James shakes his head emphatically. "No, god no. It was... You were incredible." He pauses, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. You smile, warmth blooming in your chest at his words. "I'm glad," you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. "I loved seeing that side of you."

You sneak him a glance.

“You should tell me more about your fantasies more often.”

[ssahotchnerr]

possible idea for married hotch since you asked for requests😋 (and cause i love your writing)

maybe one where he gets injured and with the rest of the bau he’s just brushing it off but when wifey pulls up? different story.

he’s just all 🥺🥺 at her and the team is like wtaf?

also can i be 🌊 anon pretty please?

healing touches

i love that 🥺🥺🤕 cw; bau fem!reader, established relationship (hehe they're soooo in love), injury/blood descriptions, aaron being stubborn🙄, playful banter, fluff <333

The first SUV arrived back at the police department after apprehending the unsub. Morgan, JJ and Prentiss walked inside, pulling their vests off in sync.

You might have been mistaken, but their gazes immediately locked onto you as they removed their protective gear. Their stares were almost unsettling, as if they knew something you didn’t, and were waiting to see the rest unfold. Unease filled you from head to toe.

"Hey," you stacked a few files together, placing them down. "How'd it go? Did you get him?"

"Yeah, 'course we did." Morgan sauntered over, dropping his vest onto the table with a thud.

"Well," Emily added, a slight grimace on her face. "Not without putting up a relentless fight. It wasn't pretty, I'll tell you that."

A bad feeling formed in your gut. Even Spencer's attention was gained, his head lifting from his book.

"What do you me-"

Your words were interrupted by Aaron and JJ walking in. JJ, perfectly fine. Aaron on the other hand, was moving at a much slower speed than normal, definitely banged up with a fair amount of blood present on his face.

Your eyes widened in alarm, meeting him halfway.

"Oh my god, Aaron. Are you okay?" You immediately unstrapped his vest for him, tucking it under your arm. The lessening pressure seemed to help some, light tension lifting from his body.

Your hand raised to cup his jaw, moving it gently to observe the damage. There was definitely a developing bruise underneath his right eye, his forehead and cheek were both littered with scrapes of all shapes and sizes. Aaron winced when his head reached a particular angle, and it wasn't a subtle wince either. It was a startling jolt, agonizing pain obvious.

But it was at your touch, and your presence, that his eyes softened. The stagnant sharpness dissolving as he looked at you with a tenderness that was almost too raw to hide. You pulled back to get a better look at him as whole, ensuring he was fully intact.

"He's 'fine', in case you were wondering. Only told us 'bout a million times." Morgan added air quotes, sitting down and kicking his feet onto the table. "Refused medical attention, even."

"Manners." You swatted his foot, causing him to lower them before turning back to Aaron. You tutted at him softly, "You did? After that lil stunt you just pulled?"

"Well... I guess it is starting to hurt more now."

"I wonder why," JJ commented humorously under her breath, hiding her smile with her palm. Additionally, Emily and Derek gave him a look.

You quickly reached into your bag, riffling through it until you found your handy tube of Neosporin. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

Aaron didn't argue, didn't utter a single word as he followed you to the bathroom like a lost puppy. Once inside the small space you maneuvered him back against the sink, washing your hands next.

"That was stupid of you." You wet a paper towel, dabbing his cuts and ridding of any dry blood, once again causing him to flinch at the touch. You pulled the towel away, pausing a moment, before resuming gently. "Even if you think you're not in need of getting checked out, please do, for my sake at least. I'd like my husband to stay in one piece if possible."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"We were clearing the grounds and he managed to catch me by surprise," Aaron huffed out, evidently annoyed at himself. "I should have seen it coming. Seen him in the shadows, reacted faster."

"Baby, you may think you have the invincibility of Superman, but you don't. You're human, it's okay to miss things every once and a while." You reassured him softly, tossing the towel aside and moving onto the Neosporin. After dabbing some onto your index finger, you began blotting it thoroughly onto the cuts. "Which I'm fine with, by the way, you're much better looking."

"Yeah?" A laugh escaped Aaron, but his chuckle was interrupted by the twinge in his ribcage, the entirety of it shooting up in pain.

"I'm sorry," you gasped gently, guilt sweeping through you.

"It's fine, 'm fine." He breathed out through his teeth, his jaw clenching momentarily, until the pain subsided. "I'm okay sweetheart. Now c'mon, your face is far too pretty to look that worried."

Your eyebrows were furrowed, eyes frantically searching his face.

"Really. So I'm a little bruised up, I've been through far worse."

You sighed, not entirely convinced. "Fine. But when we get home tomorrow," your eyes narrowed slightly, pointing the Neosporin at him as a 'threat'. "You're resting. Come hell or high water."

"Deal."

"I'm happy you're okay." Suddenly emotional, tears dared to spill from your eyes. They stalled at your waterline, completely blurring your vision. You hated to see him in pain, and the reminder of past events didn't help. "Don't scare me like that."

"C'mere," Aaron raised his arms, gesturing for you to come close.

"I don't want to hurt you-"

"Come here."

You took a step forward, not raising your arms to potentially inflict pain, but rest your body against his. Your face found home in the crook of his neck, while his arms did wrap around you. Not as tight as usual, but enough to hold you and not hurt.

"I'm fine," he kissed the side of your head. "And I have my girl to thank for that. Although, you did miss a spot."

"I did? Where?" You pulled back, beginning to unscrew the tube's cap but Aaron's hand stopped you.

"Right here." He pointed to his lips, playing up the 'anguish' in his eyes. "Hurts real bad."

Your lips tugged into a smile, leaning in and offering him a short, sweet kiss.

"That's all I get?"

You playfully rolled your eyes before giving his lips another quick kiss. He chased your lips, but you pulled back, keeping just out of reach.

"Want a longer one? Get medical attention next time."

[ssa-dado]

Pride & Pettiness

Aaron Hotchner x deskmate!fem!reader Genre: angst, mutual pining with the same energy of a sitcom Summary: Even the best partnerships - even a fresh one like yours and Hotch’s - had to go through rough patches. But that’s what mentors are for, right? Especially if they happen to be Rossi and Gideon - the undisputed masters of working in a duo. Too bad that even the BAU gods were not immune to human pettiness, and instead of fixing things when you and Hotch each stormed into their offices for advice, they somehow managed to make everything worse. Warnings: Rossi and Gideon, despite technically being your bosses, are way too caught up in their own petty feud to be of any actual help. Instead, they’ve chosen to channel their energy into something far more productive - gossiping about you and Hotch via fax. Because, well, it is the late ‘90s, after all. Word Count: 5.9k Dado's Corner: This piece is based on the first part of a request (and way too many private brainrots) sent by the co-relator of this series @c-losur3 for my 400 followers celebration event YEEEHAWWWW there will be a second part, set many years later… hehehe the angst is never over. Ah, also, the resolution of all of this is so silly. Sorry... I guess.

masterlist

The strongest bond someone working in law enforcement could form was a partnership - two people moving in sync, instinct sharpening instinct, and skill complementing skill.

Plato, in The Republic, had grand ideas about an ideal government ruled by two philosopher-kings - an 'interesting' proposition, considering he just happened to be a philosopher himself.

How convenient.

But the most remarkable part of his argument wasn’t the thinly veiled intellectual self-promotion, it was the number.

Two. Not one.

Because, according to Plato, the only way to arrive at truth was through dialogue, through debate, through the friction of two minds constantly challenging each other.

And while most people would assume that ancient political philosophy had very little bearing on the modern world, somehow, against all odds, Plato’s vision of dual leadership had found a foothold in an institution he probably never would have anticipated: the FBI.

Specifically, in the form of Jason Gideon and David Rossi - two men, one partnership, leading the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

And, much like Plato’s philosopher-kings, they operated under the firm belief that they possessed the wisdom to shape the world around them.

Which was exactly how you and Hotch - through what was definitely pure coincidence and not at all the result of their very deliberate meddling - had ended up as partners.

And now, thanks to their brilliant mentorship, you both found yourselves sitting across from them… airing your grievances about each other.

Of course, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

You had gone to Gideon’s office with the perfectly reasonable intent of professionally complaining about Hotch over a minor misunderstanding. Nothing dramatic, just a slight escalation that 'totally' warranted the intervention of your superior.

Or at least, that’s how Hotch saw it.

Because if you had just communicated like a normal person, you would have told him that you weren’t actually filing a formal complaint, you were just looking for advice.

But no, that would have been too easy.

Which is exactly why Hotch, ever the beacon of patience and maturity, having spotted you doing so, decided to return the favor. If you were going to drag your boss into this, then he was going to do the exact same thing, marching straight into Rossi’s office to even the playing field.

What neither of you could have predicted was that, somehow, a discussion that was supposed to be about you and Hotch had instead morphed into a thinly veiled continuation of whatever unresolved argument Gideon and Rossi had been stewing over for days.

Plato may have waxed poetic about two-person leadership as the pinnacle of governance, but clearly, he had never met Gideon and Rossi - what with him being dead for over two millennia and all.

Minor detail.

“I spent ten - ten - minutes explaining the UnSub’s pattern. Laid it all out, even a metaphor that I thought was particularly strong! And you know what Hotch said? You know what he had the audacity to say?”

Gideon, wisely, did not attempt a guess.

He merely adjusted his glasses and regarded you with the patience of a man who had endured enough existential crises - his own and others’ - to know better than to poke an already burning fire.

“He said-” you inhaled, because even the memory of Hotch’s voice made you feel the heat creeping up your cheeks - from rage, obviously, rage…

…“You’re overcomplicating it. That’s what I told her,” Hotch stated at the same time, on the opposite side of the wall, seated in front of Rossi. “It was just a perfectly rational observation.”

Rossi took a long, slow sip of his coffee. If he had known what he was about to deal with, he would have gladly corrected it with enough whiskey to make this tolerable. “Sure, Aaron. Reasonable.”

"But then she looked at me like I had personally insulted her, completely ignored the part where I agreed with her - just with fewer metaphors - and instead of talking to me like an adult, she stomped off to Gideon." Hotch exhaled, rubbing his temple. "That woman is a -”

He paused, searching for the right word, the perfect descriptor, something that fully encapsulated the absolute trial that was dealing with you.

“…A paradox.”

But no, that wasn’t enough. That wasn’t nearly enough.

“…A walking contradiction. She can read everyone else like a book but when it comes to herself? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She’s-” he exhaled sharply, frustrated beyond belief, “-she’s so infuriating.”

And then he winced.

Because what the hell had just come out of his mouth? A contradiction? A paradox? Was he seriously talking like that now?

Goddammit. You were infecting him.

Meanwhile Rossi, watching him spiral, was mentally preparing himself for the stupidity that was about to unfold.

Because unlike Hotch - who was still stubbornly convinced that this was about anything other than what it actually was - Rossi saw the issue with absolute, irrefutable clarity.

This wasn’t about communication issues.

This wasn’t even about professional disagreements.

This was textbook mutual pining.

And not just any kind of mutual pining - the worst kind.

The kind where both of you were so deep in denial that the only way your brains could cope was by turning every minor inconvenience into a full-blown incident, bickering like an old married couple because neither of you could stand being within five feet of the other without your neurons short-circuiting and risking the horrifying possibility of self-awareness.

It was, frankly, embarrassing.

Rossi knew exactly what he should do.

As Hotch’s mentor, it was his duty to sit him down, force him to face reality, and guide him toward the inevitable conclusion that all of this frustration wasn’t about you being impossible - it was about the fact that he was hopelessly, stupidly attracted to you.

But then he remembered that one time Gideon had acted intellectually superior to him.

And suddenly, this had nothing to do with Hotch and everything to do with the fact that Gideon was wrong about whatever they had been arguing about before.

So, rather than responding to Hotch, Rossi silently reached for his fax machine.

TO: JASON GIDEON

FROM: DAVID ROSSI

SUBJECT: IT’S YOUR KID’S FAULT

Your kid is the reason Aaron has been ranting for five straight minutes without blinking. And while I should be concerned about the blinking thing, I’m honestly more disturbed by the fact that I’ve never heard him talk this much since I met him. It’s unnatural. It’s unsettling. It’s frankly ruining my entire perception of reality.

Fix your kid. She should apologize to him so he finally stops.

You barely registered the whirr of the fax machine as you continued venting, pacing in Gideon’s office.

“What if I’m not enough for him?” you muttered. “I get it, I’d be mad too if I got paired up with someone who’s only been legally allowed to drink for a few months, but at least he could have said it differently.”

Gideon, barely listening - because his brain was currently short-circuiting over the sheer idiocy of Rossi’s latest fax - grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and started typing.

“Don’t worry, I hear you,” he said absently, which, given the circumstances, was not entirely true.

You huffed, still pacing. “He makes it sound like I’m incapable just because I don’t summarize my entire profile in monosyllabic grunts and I don’t stare deep into people’s souls with those unreadable-”

You frowned slightly. “What color are his eyes, anyway?”

That was the exact moment Gideon mentally checked out.

Because while he should have been focusing on mentoring you through this crisis, Rossi had just challenged him.

And there were some things in life that simply could not be ignored.

Like proving David Rossi wrong.

So, without hesitation, he sent his reply.

TO: DAVID ROSSI

FROM: JASON GIDEON

SUBJECT: INCORRECT. TRY AGAIN.

Oh, please. Your kid is the reason my kid has been pacing my office for ten minutes, trapped in an existential spiral so deep she may never escape.

And why? Because your Aaron - stoic, logical, deeply repressed Aaron - is either willfully ignoring her brilliance or is so profoundly distracted by something else (I wonder what that could be, David?).

And now, look at what he’s done. He’s unraveled her. Entirely.

Philosophers have written essays on the fragility of human perception, on the agony of misunderstanding - but even they would struggle to articulate the absurdity of what he’s done here. Because rather than acknowledge the blindingly obvious truth - that he is so disastrously affected by her mere presence that his entire ability to process information has been compromised - he has instead chosen to, what? Dismiss her? Challenge her? Stare at her like she personally upended his worldview and then claim she’s the problem?

So no, David. I will not be fixing my kid.

Fix yours.

Meanwhile, in Rossi’s office, to his absolute horror, Hotch was still talking.

This was unprecedented. Unnatural. Downright unsettling.

Rossi had seen a lot of disturbing things in his career, but this?

This was genuinely alarming.

“I don’t approach profiling the way she does,” Hotch admitted, his voice quieter, almost strained. “I’m not Peter Rogers. I never will be. If she wanted a partner who thinks like that - if she wanted him - I’d understand.”

Ah, Peter Rogers - the one agent in this entire bureau Hotch had the misfortune of knowing, solely because the man had once occupied your desk - which, by extension, meant he had spent far too much time sitting in front of him before you joined the BAU.

That moron.

That living testament to the FBI’s questionable hiring practices.

That bureaucratic seat-filler whose greatest contribution to law enforcement was proving that, apparently, anyone could get a badge.

If Rogers had contributed one remotely valuable thing to society in his otherwise remarkably unimpressive career, it was possessing just enough cognitive function to form complete sentences - and, for some baffling reason, to be your friend.

Which, naturally, checked out - you both had degrees in linguistics, spoke the same academic language, and were intellectually aligned.

Unlike him.

Because, of course, you never let him forget that he had once been a prosecutor - a lawyer - a fact you brought up constantly, with that little glint in your eyes.

Which was, clearly, because you despised him.

Obviously.

That was the reason.

Not because of… well, what other reason could there possibly be? That you liked him? No, that was ridiculous.

Hell, how could you? He barely liked himself.

People like you weren’t supposed to be attracted to someone like him - someone who had zero ability to flirt, zero charm, and zero interest in playing mind games.

Unlike Peter Rogers.

Oh. Again. That bastard.

And so, Hotch exhaled sharply, as if he could physically shake that idiot’s face out of his mind and replace it with something less infuriating… like yours.

Or - Rossi’s.

Anyone’s, really.

It wasn’t specifically your face he wanted to picture. Any face would be fine.

But now that he was picturing yours, he felt… calmer.

No wait, enraged.

Yes. That was what he was supposed to be. Mad at you.

“If she wants someone more in line with her methods, fine,” he muttered, forcing the words out like they physically hurt. “But she could have just told me. We’ve spent months working together - sharing a desk, hotel rooms - why throw all of that away without a conversation?”

Because, really, if you wanted Peter Rogers, you could have him. In fact, Hotch would be thrilled to gift-wrap him for you and never have to see his smug, thesaurus-abusing face again.

…Though, would that mean he’d never again get to see you frowning down at a case file, tapping a pen against the page whenever something didn’t quite add up - waiting, deliberating, until finally, you swallowed your pride, got up from your seat, dragged your chair around your desk, and settled beside him with a barely muttered, "Tell me if this sounds insane."

Would that mean no more of those moments that were supposed to last just a couple of minutes - just a quick consultation - but always, always stretched into something more?

Where your case somehow became his, where the file he’d left open to return to later suddenly had two sets of eyes on it instead of one?

Would that mean no more of those accidental non-accidental moments - like how you both always ended up in the break room at the same time?

And even though there were two coffee pots, you’d linger just a second too long near his, just so he’d sigh, roll his eyes, nudge your elbow, and pour you a cup before you could ask?

Would it mean no more of those quiet, almost too easy nights in whatever godforsaken motel the Bureau had thrown you into, where you sat cross-legged on your bed, case file open but forgotten, sharing a dessert you had insisted on ordering - because you knew he wanted it but would never ask for it himself?

Would it mean no more of those moments where you’d nudge the plate toward him near the end, claiming you were too full, even though he wasn’t oblivious enough to miss the way you always just so happened to stop right before the last bite?

No more of that way you glanced up from your files when you thought he wasn’t looking, brow slightly furrowed, like you wanted to ask him something but weren’t sure how?

No more of you in his space, where he had somehow, stupidly gotten used to you being?

Would that mean no more of those rare, exhausted moments in transit after a long case, like that time on the train back to Quantico? When, somewhere between wrapping up the last loose ends and reviewing the final report, you had dozed off mid-sentence, your head slowly tipping forward before settling against his shoulder?

Would it mean no more of the way he had to fight off a betraying smile - muttering something about how next time, one of Gideon or Rossi should sit beside you before they had the chance to start poking fun at him - when, in reality, he’d never give up that seat for anything?

No.

No, he couldn’t just give you away like that.

That would be insane.

Unfortunately, not as insane as what Rossi was about to tell him.

If only his mentor could read his mind, maybe he wouldn’t have made such a huge mistake out of sheer spite for his own partner, currently seated on the opposite side of the wall.

“Well, kid,” Rossi said casually, leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t about to detonate a nuclear bomb of bad advice. “She doesn’t trust you anymore. Clearly.”

And just like that, Rossi confirmed what Hotch had been trying to push down - what had been ringing in his head ever since you had walked right past him and into Gideon’s office.

Hotch froze in his chair, fist clenched, his thumb already moving along the side of his index finger. “…What?”

Rossi shrugged, as if none of this was a big deal. “She’s already decided you’re not worth explaining things to anymore. She thinks she’s the oracle of who-knows-what, and your job now is to bring her back to earth.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then, with all the confidence of a man giving genuinely terrible advice, Rossi added, “You should get revenge.”

Like this was a completely reasonable course of action.

Like this was not one of the worst things he could have possibly said.

Hotch frowned, fully expecting this to be some kind of joke. “That is not helpful.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Rossi lifted an eyebrow, looking deeply, profoundly pleased with himself. “Listen, kid, if she doesn’t think you listen to her, then stop listening to her. Completely. Ignore everything she says for the next few cases. Act like her theories don’t even exist. Hell, outright disagree with her just to make her question herself.”

Hotch just stared at him, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and actual concern. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” Rossi smirked. “You need to win this, Aaron. Make her realize how much she needs you to listen. Make her miss it.”

Hotch blinked. “That is-”

“Brilliant? I know.” Rossi shrugged, feigning modesty. “She thinks she’s above working with you? That she doesn’t need to explain things to you anymore? Then fine. Make her prove it.”

Hotch exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “This is insane.”

Rossi, seeing his hesitation, sighed and leaned back. “Look, Aaron. You came to me for advice. And I’m giving you advice.”

Which was, of course, the only justification he needed before turning to his fax machine with all the righteous indignation of a man personally victimized by his best friend’s existence.

TO: JASON GIDEON

FROM: DAVID ROSSI

SUBJECT: SUCK IT

You ever notice how your kid has a response for everything, until someone dares to disagree, and suddenly, it’s an affront to her entire existence?

Sound familiar, Jason?

Because it should.

She’s got that same holier-than-thou, no-one-understands-my-genius attitude you do, thinking she’s the only one with a fully functioning brain, acting personally offended the second someone suggests she might not be the sole guardian of the truth.

The only thing keeping her from turning into a full copy of you is the massive, pathetic, completely obvious crush she has on Aaron.

I would feel bad for him, but honestly, it’s probably still a better fate than what I’ve been dealing with for years.

At least she’s smarter than you. But then again, so is that half-dead plant you keep on your windowsill.

TO: DAVID ROSSI

FROM: JASON GIDEON

SUBJECT: STOP DIGGING

Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Dave. Aaron’s repression? Learned straight from his brilliant mentor, whose idea of guidance is bad advice and a pat on the back.

And don’t start on my kid when yours is one lingering glance away from self-destruction. If she’s me, then Hotch is just you, with even worse social skills.

Now, unless you want them to figure out we’re talking behind their backs, quit the fax war while you’re ahead.

P.S. The plant is alive, you absolute moron.

It didn’t matter how much the two old men were mad at each other, some things in life were just undeniable truths.

Like the fact that partnerships - the real ones, the ones that settle so deep in your soul they become part of you - created something stronger than just teamwork.

The greatest partnerships - ergo theirs, and, unknowingly to you and Hotch, yours too, despite having far less time to marinate in dysfunction - had a way of forming their own language.

A language of mirroring postures, finishing each other’s sentences, predicting a move before it was even made. A near telepathic connection that let you know exactly what the other was thinking without them having to say a single word.

Some people were just meant to be.

At work, of course.

Not that fate, luck, or - let’s be honest - the sheer misfortune of the universe always knew where to draw the line.

And maybe that’s what Rossi should have told Hotch…

Or - tying it back to the telepathy portion of this completely doomed thesis - what Gideon should have told you.

Because instead of actually helping, they both did what they always did when their own egos got in the way:

They screwed up magnificently.

And gave you the exact same, equally terrible advice – to get revenge.

“…What?” You blinked, certain you had misheard.

“Revenge.” He waved a hand, as if this was a well-established principle of psychology. “If he won’t listen to you, then don’t waste your breath. Let him see how well he does without your insight.”

You squinted. “So… you’re telling me to intentionally not do my job?”

Gideon sighed. “No. I’m telling you to strategically withhold information until he realizes how much he relies on your perspective.”

When you returned to your desk, Hotch was already at his, stiff-backed and stone-faced, his jaw so clenched that you could hear his teeth grinding.

Which was fine.

Because you weren’t speaking to him anyway.

Not that he was speaking to you, either.

Which was also fine.

Except for the fact that Peter Rogers, in all his wheeled-chair-rolling, space-invading glory, had wedged himself directly between you - parking himself right next to you, far too comfortable in a way that made Hotch’s grip on his pen visibly tighten.

"You know," Peter said, "I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you two actually not talking."

You didn’t respond.

Hotch also didn’t respond.

Which, in Peter’s mind, was an invitation to continue. "Okay, what’s going on with you two?"

You both exhaled sharply through your nose and, in perfect unison - much to no one’s surprise except Peter’s - said, "Nothing."

Because him, a smug ass who apparently lived to poke the bear, grinned. “Oh, you two are so in sync.”

You shot him a glare. "Pete, I swear-"

But before you could finish, he leaned back, tilting his chair just enough that Hotch seriously considered kicking it out from under him - especially when he, with all the confidence of a man who had never been punched in the face, set a file down directly in the middle of both your desks, precisely equidistant, like he was deliberately trying to start a fight.

“So, partners,” Peter started, dragging out the word like he knew exactly what he was doing - or maybe, because he was bitter about the fact that he still hadn’t been formally paired with anyone himself. “Thoughts on this?”

“I’ll let Hotch answer first,” you said smoothly, barely glancing up.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed immediately. “No, I insist,” he replied, voice sharp, looking up from his desk.

“Oh, no,” you said, flipping a page in your file with exaggerated care. “I wouldn’t want to overcomplicate things.”

Hotch’s jaw locked.

Rogers blinked, glancing between the two of you. “…Are you two-?”

“Fine,” Hotch interrupted, because the last thing he needed was Peter Rogers analyzing his relationship with you. He turned his attention to the file, scanning it for a total of three seconds before declaring, “This isn’t the UnSub’s pattern.”

“Oh, really?” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because I could’ve sworn that the signatures do match-"

“They don’t,” Hotch countered.

“They do,” you shot back.

“I disagree.”

“Well, I disagree with your disagreement.”

Hotch exhaled. “That’s so childish, it’s not how that works.”

Rogers, still holding the file, hesitated before looking at his own notes. “…Actually, I think-”

Both of your heads snapped toward him so fast it was a miracle he didn’t die on the spot.

“Oh, do tell, Pete,” you said, voice sweet in a way that was clearly threatening. “What do you think?”

“Well,” he mused, rubbing his chin - probably in an attempt to convince the two of you that he was capable of actual thought and not just winging it as usual - “I think I just walked into the middle of a divorce proceeding.”

If he thought that was a joke, he was probably the only person on earth who considered it funny.

Didn’t help that you and Hotch were tough critics at the moment.

“But don’t worry,” Peter continued, absolutely delighted now, “I would be thrilled to play mediator. You know - help you work through your issues, since I’m obviously neutral in this.”

“I mean, I’ve known little Y/N since she was only fifteen,” he said, reaching out to ruffle your hair before thinking better of it, then he turned to Hotch. “And I was your desk mate buddy for two whole years, am I right, Big H?”

Silence.

To top it all off, Peter actually had the audacity to make a stupid finger-gun gesture, wink at Hotch, and fire.

Click. Click.

And was met with absolutely nothing.

Just the coldest, most silent, most deeply unimpressed stare Hotch had ever delivered in his life.

Peter, undeterred, clicked his tongue. “That makes me, what? Your best man, Champ?”

In Hotch’s opinion, that made Peter Rogers the best possible candidate to be murdered right here in the FBI building.

And yet, the absolute audacity of this man.

Something - something trickling at the edges of Hotch’s sixth sense, or maybe just his profiler instincts - had never sat right with him about the way Peter always had to stress that he had known you since you were fifteen…

…While he had been twenty-one.

And maybe Hotch could have voiced that. Could have said something. Could have acknowledged the way that detail had always gnawed at him.

But, unfortunately, Peter was your best friend.

Which meant, for the sake of professionalism, and also the fact that you would probably take a bullet for this absolute idiot, Hotch had to keep that particular opinion to himself.

“Well,” Peter continued, flipping casually through the file like this wasn’t a crime scene in the making, “Don’t you worry, guys. Every great partnership has rough patches.”

He paused, smiling.

“But - I can fix it... it is surely your lucky day. Divorce attorneys are expensive, you know?! And with this pay?!”

Silence.

Nobody laughed.

Again.

"Alright, fine. Moving on," Peter announced, standing up with way too much enthusiasm. "Step one: acknowledging the problem. And for that, we’re gonna do a little trust exercise."

Your eyes immediately narrowed. "Peter, no-"

"Peter, yes," he shot back, already gesturing for both of you to stand up - and, when Hotch predictably refused to move, physically dragging him out of his chair because, apparently, he hadn’t budgeted time for stubbornness today.

"Great! Okay, now come closer - yeah, you stay there - Hotch, maybe less like you’re standing in front of a firing squad… perfect, that’s my man..."

That made Hotch almost roll his eyes.

"Before either of you start whining-" Peter clapped his hands together, "let’s just-"

So, before even finishing his sentence, he shoved you forward.

Directly into Hotch’s arms.

And despite the fact that the last time either of you had done a trust exercise like this was probably in kindergarten, the entire world stopped.

Because for a moment - for one infuriatingly long, electric moment - every single reason you were mad at each other suddenly took a backseat to an entirely different kind of tension.

The kind that was definitely not workplace appropriate.

The kind that had Hotch’s hands tightening around you on pure instinct before he could even process it.

The kind that had your breath catching in your throat when you realized that, yeah, he was definitely built like a solid wall of muscle under that suit.

The kind that made you far too aware of how close his face was to yours, how you could actually feel the faint warmth of his breath against your hair.

The kind that had Hotch’s face immediately turning the exact shade of his tie.

The kind that had you way too afraid to check if yours was the same.

The kind that meant neither of you had stepped away yet.

“Oh.. alright now...” Peter beamed, far too entertained. “hold the pose …and tell each other how you feel.”

Hotch scoffed, like he was seconds away from handing in his badge, changing his name, and disappearing into the mountains to escape this entire mess.

Too bad his body language was telling a completely different story.

His grip on you tightened - just barely, almost imperceptibly - so slight that if you weren’t hyperaware of every tiny shift around you, you might have missed it.

“Look into each other’s eyes,” the idiot instructed, brimming with the confidence of a man whose entire playbook came from a $2 self-help book he picked up at a gas station.

And so you raised your eyes, leaning back slightly - and there he was, already looking at you, his pupils blown wide.

You convinced yourself it was from the shadow cast on him by that one broken lamp you’d been shuffling underneath, the dim light flickering in just the wrong way.

Because there was no way, no possible way, that his pupils were that dilated just from standing too close to you.

Just the lighting.

Just the lighting.

And yet, despite knowing that, your pulse still spiked.

Silence.

Absolute.

Dead.

Silence.

Peter sighed, as he glanced between the two of you, who - after who knew how many seconds - had still yet to utter a single word.

“Do you want me to count to three?” he deadpanned.

And maybe it was true, maybe the greatest partnerships were in sync, maybe they did move in tandem, maybe they did know each other too well-

Because at the exact same moment, you both spoke.

“I’m not enough for you,” Hotch said, voice steady, controlled - wrong.

“I’m too much for you,” you admitted, quiet, careful - wrong.

And then, you both turned to each other, eyes locking, like the other had just said the single most idiotic thing in existence.

More idiotic than Peter Rogers’ entire existence.

More idiotic than every ridiculous word that had come out of his mouth up until now.

“That’s not true,” you said, in sync.

And yet-

You had both believed it.

You had both convinced yourselves that this was the truth for a few hours.

That you were too much - loud, overwhelming, excessive, impossible to follow - while he was not enough - too restrained, too distant, too closed-off, too incapable of keeping up with you.

You stepped back - not entirely, just enough to put space between you, enough to feel the cool air where his warmth had been -

But not enough to look away.

Not enough to actually leave.

Because as much as you loathed to admit it, as much as you didn’t want to acknowledge it, there was something deeply unsettling about the way you had both spiraled into this.

How you had both ended up in opposite places, on opposite sides of the same fear.

And how, somehow, in all of it, the one thing neither of you had ever questioned-

Was each other.

TO: JASON GIDEON

FROM: DAVID ROSSI

SUBJECT: MAYDAY CANCEL PROOF

From the way they’re both storming toward our offices, I have a sinking feeling something’s gone horribly wrong. Yes, they’re dumb, but they’re also profilers. Very good ones.

And sure enough, Hotch burst into Rossi’s office like a man ready to prosecute a case in real-time.

Rossi, already prepared for impact, barely looked up. “Well, to be fair, you came to me for advice. I gave you advice.” He spread his hands like that was a reasonable defense.

Hotch stared at him, unimpressed. "Old man, have you taken your medicine? This is your fault."

Deciding Rossi was no longer worth another second of his life, Hotch turned on his heel and stalked back toward his desk - only to find you already mid-way, coming back from Gideon’s office, looking just as exasperated.

You jerked your chin toward the two closed doors. "They’re still mad at each other."

Hotch sighed. "Shocking."

Your gaze lingered on Rossi and Gideon’s offices for a beat before you spoke again. "Maybe we should intervene… before they cause any more damage."

Hotch gave you a skeptical look. "Do you have a plan?"

The second he saw the look on your face, he groaned. "If we seriously tell them to do a trust exercise, I think Rossi might just file for early retirement." His dimples flashed as he tried - and failed - to keep a straight face… they always seemed to betray him.

"Retire?! And what’s he gonna do to pay the bills? Become a bestselling author?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Oh, please."

You and Hotch had no idea, at the time, just how painfully accurate that little joke would turn out to be.

And you definitely hadn’t anticipated how often it would come back to haunt you - every single time you collapsed onto your shared couch, exhausted but grinning, only to glance at the monstrous, leather-bound book sitting on your coffee table.

A book that contained every single fax Rossi and Gideon had ever exchanged, all meticulously preserved and bound, because apparently, their legacy wasn’t their actual contributions to criminal profiling, but rather their collective inability to mind their own damn business.

It was your favorite bedtime read.

Except for the times when you were too busy doing things that two newly engaged lovebirds, in a brand-new home, had far better uses of their time for.

You both made sure to put the book away when that happened.

Because somehow, despite knowing full well that Rossi and Gideon were nowhere in your house, the sheer existence of that book made you feel watched.

Unfortunately, this time, your Aaron - who had been mindlessly flipping through its pages - suddenly froze.

"...No."

You, half-dozing against him, cracked an eye open. "What?"

He cleared his throat, stiffened, and angled the book just enough so you could see the offending text exchange.

TO: JASON GIDEON

FROM: DAVID ROSSI

SUBJECT: START STEAMING YOUR GOOD SUIT, OLD MAN

Because I bet they’re getting engaged in three years.

TO: DAVID ROSSI

FROM: JASON GIDEON

SUBJECT: THREE IS GENEROUS

For how it’s going, I give them two.

Silence.

You and Hotch stared at each other.

Then, in perfect unison - "They forgot to add ten."

Which felt even sweeter when Aaron pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

“…Aaron,” you murmured, fingers threading through his hair, already tugging just enough to make him hum.

“…Yes, honey?” he replied softly… knowing.

You smirked. “Could you hide the book?”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest - because, oh, he knew exactly what that meant.

Still, with a reluctant sigh - because this required temporarily leaving your side - he stood, barely resisting the urge to toss the damn thing across the room. Instead, he made his way to the bookshelf, scanning for a worthy hiding place.

“What about behind this one?” he asked, holding up a book.

You barely glanced at it before nodding. “That’ll do.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head as he returned to the couch - where, of course, you immediately pulled him back down into your space, arms wrapping around him like he'd been gone for years instead of thirty seconds.

"There," he murmured against your hair , lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Book’s hidden."

Hidden.

Buried.

Tucked away behind Plato’s The Republic.

Fitting, really.

that absolutely incredible gifset I used is by the insanely talented @holoship AAAAA I LOVE YOUR GIFS

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Past Careers

pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne (seperate) summary: They find about your past career as a dancer. warnings: fem!reader, slightly suggestive theme, (fluff), no y/n used a/n: sorry about my inactiveness again, my apartment almost burned down last night, but at least i got two weeks off! sorry about any errors, enjoy!

⁛ DICK GRAYSON

It was a total accident. He trusts you as a teammate and coworker in the vigilante field, but something about snooping in your files and digital footprint was so intriguing to him. You tend to keep to yourself most of the time, ignoring his playful remarks, and more or less funny quips. He doesn‘t know much about you, and he won‘t ask personal questions since he should learn to mind his business (that‘s what you told him). Despite his dying need to get to know you better, he won‘t let himself look into your life or vigilante career more closely.

Still, that‘s clearly not what happened this night at patrol. Once he got his hands on his device, he couldn‘t help himself and searched you up. Or rather, your files and somehow got his hands on your birth certificate, which made him learn your real name.

Without further waiting and a lot of guilty doubts, he searched and looked up stuff with your real name. Dick found himself a comfortablel spot by a fire escape, sitting at on of the stairs witha his tablet in his hands. The bright screen illuminated his face, his eyes intently studying the images before him, under his mask. His eyebrows shot up once he discovers a video, the caption being ‘Dirty Dancing in [ ] Club. Fire Show!‘. Of course he had to click on it, even if it was a possible scam, or something completely unrelated to you.

A typical jazz tune comes form the small speakers of his tablet, the camera being directed at the stage. The lights are low, creating a cozy atmosphere around the supposed club.

The spotlight focuses on the woman stepping on the stage, her steps confident, yet secretive. Her steps are in sync to the Jazz band, as she slowly removes her fluffy coat, teasing the crowd with her movements. Even Dick has to shift on the fireescape, keeping his attention to the video.

There‘s no way this is his actual coworker, who he sees almost every night on patrol. Clearing his throat, he continues to thoroughly study the video.

The dancer surprises the crowd once she throws her coat away to the side, the poor speakers of his tablet almost explode as the audience cheers and whistles, making him lower the volume. Now, you pose for the audience, your outfit not just revealing, but also gorgeous. It sparkles in the spotlight, hugging your curves perfectly and leaving little to imagination.

Dick feels his brain short-circuting for a second, having to process what he sees before him.

»I hated that song.«

He flinches, almost throwing his tablet away as he yelps from the sudden voice beside him. You keep your eyes on Nightwing, staying leaned against the railing of the fire escape.

»Oh, hey… fancy seeing you. I was just—« He visibly pauses and looks back down at his tablet before meeting your eyes again. »That‘s you?«

Finally, with a soft sigh, you nod and expect any kind of reaction from him. Either disgust, disappointment, confusion, but definitely not fascination.

He starts to give you a thorough review of your perfomance, although it mostly consists of compliments and questions, such as ‘Why did you never tell me?‘, or ‘How long? Can you tell me more?‘. You were in for a ride.

But he sure knows he found another thing he likes about you, except your skills in combat and ability to keep calm in almost every situation.

⁛ JASON TODD

He wasn‘t one to pry or be curious about ones personal life, especially when it comes to other vigilantes around his area. Sure, he tends to do check ups and make sure nothing is falling apart, but that‘s the most he does. Besides, you are one of the few he trusts the most about work. You both team up on missions, or patrol together regularly, and also have a similar kind of humor. Jason is glad you don‘t ask for more and also tend to be more private about other stuff, besides work.

It‘s not until one evening, he takes up on a usual research about another case, before he stumbles upon suspicious looking files. Surely, a small distraction won‘t hurt. He clicks on it, getting sent to another site with several files, which he soon learns, are personal information about certain vigilantes. He found the source of the current problem, but now he is growing curious as well.

Your vigilante name is on this list, and he wouldn‘t want your identity to be leaked so carelessly. Finally, he clicks on it and finds himself reading through important and sensitive information about you. Your name, address, family— hell, even your career choice before this.

He can‘t help himself, but look through it and eventually check on your past careers. The first few were normal, a waitress, barista, even working at walmart, but ‘professional dancer‘ wasn‘t what he was expecting. Luckily, there are a few videos attached.

Jason‘s hand almost crushes his mouse at the table as he takes in the rather seductive, yet slow movements of your body in that revealing outfit. After a minute in, he pauses the video and stands off his chair to pace a few circles around his room.

Eventually, he sits back on his chair and makes sure to get rid of all these accessible information, protecting your identity and others.

There‘s no way he‘ll approach this subject with you. Unless he is drunk, or completely sleep deprived, which makes his brain and mouth go loose. But surely, none of these will happen soon enough.

⁛ BRUCE WAYNE

He was simply making sure you are a trust worthy person, like he did with every other vigilante he knows and works with. It helped him prevent accidents happen, and keep himself safer that way.

As he reades over your files, he‘s gathered nothing much but your harmless appearance and rather normal life— compared to most others. He didn‘t consider looking into your past careers, until his growing curiousity got the better out of him. The list was rather short, just a couple average jobs most people did at least once in their lifetime, until the last one made him blink a few times.

‘Professional dancer‘?

Sure, it‘s nothing bad, or negative, but it still made him question it more than the others. What kind of dancing did you do? Soon enough, he found some clips of your perfomances across the internet. Some captions were questionable, but he still wanted to take a look at it.

There‘s was the quiet music playing from the speakers, he made sure to keep it low. It looked promising, it didn‘t look cheap, but it didn‘t look too professional either. The stage made it clear that the location was most likely at a bar. Bruce watches, the frown on his face almost faltering once you get on stage and start your perfomance. He shifts ever so lightly in his seat, keeping his eyes on his monitors while you give a rather… suggestive dance. Your moves are graceful and teasing, which make the crowd cheer louder each time you strike a new pose or move.

Alfred clears his throat from further afar, spooking Bruce the slightest bit. He pauses the clip and gets rid of the site, making sure to keep his calm demeanor.

»Master Bruce, I am unsure of… that clip, but I am here to inform you about Mister Freeze‘s new attack.«

Bruce nods his head and gets off his chair, his mind being occupied with everything other than whatever Mister Freeze has planned.

Luckily, he gets his head straight, focusing on his actual duties and makes sure to pointly ignore Alfred‘s questioning about the video. Of course, he will try to make you talk about your past dance career, as well as keep further images out of his mind.

←MASTERLIST

taglist₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆.

@143637-hrrm @dollyure @ibreathesmut @dreamzaremyrealityy @aceoffates

[ecstxsyy]

HOW YOU DOIN’? | D. GRAYSON ❦

Dick can’t control his jealousy.

based on this ask.

18+ mdni!

frat boy!dick grayson x fem!reader

warnings: oral (m!receiving), face-fucking, dick is jelly af.

requests for v-day event are closed!!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

DICK GRAYSON couldn’t help but be possessive over you, you were his pretty girl. Every single one of his frat brothers drooled over you, their eyes lingering longer than they should when you were in their vicinity. It made Dick go blind with rage, he wanted to smash their faces in but he couldn't risk getting kicked out of his fraternity or out of school.

The two of you weren’t technically together, but everyone knew you were his. The two of you have been fucking for months, it started as a casual hookup here and there. But then, you both decided you didn’t want to stop. You decided friends with benefits was your best course of action, both of you not wanting to label anything.

Tonight was his fraternity, Alpha Phi Alpha’s Valentine’s Day party; everyone was going to be there. Dick had texted you a few hours ago to invite you, but he got no response. He figured you probably had plans with your friends and left it alone, he didn't want to seem clingy. But, what he didn't know was that you had already been invited. His frat brother, Alex had invited you.

When the time came for the party, people began filing in and filling the house up. In no less than an hour, it was packed body to body with sweaty drunk people. Dick found himself scanning the crowd every few minutes to see if you were going to show, he felt embarrassed that he was upset that you weren’t there.

That’s when you walked in, you looked so beautiful it nearly knocked the wind from his lungs. You were wearing a cute pink crop top with a small leather skirt that fits the curve of your ass just right, you knew Dick loved that skirt and he knew that you knew that. His happy look was quickly wiped off of his face when Alex approached you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

It took all of Dick's willpower to not go and wring Alex’s neck, his anger bubbling hot throughout his entire body. He approached the two of you quickly to gauge the situation and see what was going on.

“Hey, you didn't respond to my text. What are you doing?” Dick asked, his eyes gesturing between you and Alex.

“Hey, Dick. Alex here asked me to come to the party with him and I said yes,” you smiled, acting like you had done nothing wrong.

Dick nodded and stormed off, going to find the closest bottle of liquor he could find. He entered the kitchen and found exactly what he was looking for, popping the cap off to take a long swig. Dick sipped the bottle for a while until he got an idea.

“Hey! Everyone! Let’s all play a game of Too Hot,” Dick shouted out with his hands cupped around his mouth, getting the attention of everyone in the living room and kitchen.

Dick got a group of people to play, conveniently including you and sat everyone in a circle in the living room.

“Alright, rules are the brother's spin to pick who they go with and you guys already know, the winner takes the loser to the bedroom to do whatever they want,” Dick announced to the group, locking eyes with you at the end.

“I’ll go first,” Dick said, grabbing the nearest empty beer bottle to spin on the table. Dick somehow managed to spin the bottle perfectly, watching as it came to a halt pointing at you.

Dick used his fingers to make a ‘come here’ motion, smirking at the disdain on Alex’s face. You knew Dick was just being territorial, but you loved to rile him up.

Once you got close enough, Dick grabbed you by your hips and yanked you into him roughly. The both of you put your hands behind your back and leaned in, catching each other in a passionate kiss. Dick wanted to feel you up but he refused to let you win, you needed to be punished for what you did.

Your lips moved in sync, your tongue sliding into his mouth to wrestle with his. While the two of you kissed, you decided you couldn't care less about winning or losing, you just wanted Dick. You let your hands run up his arms, feeling the muscley plains of his biceps. Dick pulled away with a smirk, hoisting you over his shoulder with ease to take you to his room.

Dick shot a cocky look at Alex, smacking your ass roughly letting the sound reverberate through the room while the rest of the brothers cheered him on. Alex visibly deflated in his seat watching the two of you walking away, seeing your giggle as Dick said something to you that he was too far away to hear.

When you reached Dick’s room, he tossed you on the bed and began unbuttoning his khakis. You started to follow his lead and undress when he stopped you with a confused look on his face.

“Why are you getting undressed?” He asked, moving your hands away from the zipper of your skirt.

“Aren’t we going to fuck?” you answered his question with a question, the confusion evident in your expression.

“No, you’re gonna suck my dick and then we're gonna go back to the party,” Dick said bluntly, pulling down his boxers. You frowned and nodded, getting on the floor to get on your knees.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised, after the shit you pulled I should be getting my dick sucked by Jessica,” Dick said while wrapping your hair around his fist.

Jessica was your sorority sister who was so clearly obsessed with Dick, you never paid much attention to her but recently she’s been getting under your skin with her flirting and Dick knew that.

You pouted and opened your mouth, letting Dick insert himself. He used your hair as a guide to move you up and down on his cock, thrusting his hips to meet your mouth halfway. Your gags were muffled by his length while he face-fucked you, tears beginning to spill down your face. Dick moaned out at the feeling, you always took him so well.

Dick was loud during sex, he could care less who heard him or what they thought about him. He let every moan and whine slip past his lips without a fight and you loved it.

Dick’s hips quickened their pace he began to hold your head in place for a moment once your mouth was wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, your head starting to go dizzy from the lack of oxygen. You tapped Dick’s thigh twice, the signal that you needed a moment, and Dick let you off of him. He smiled at the way you gasped for air, giving him a lazy grin while your tears and spit rolled down your cheeks and chin.

“You’re such a whore for me,” he chuckled and slapped his cock against your face and you sat in place and took it, you loved every second of it.

Dick used your hair to guide you back to your place on his cock, returning to his previous brutal speed in your throat. Your tongue began to lick at his tip every time he pulled his hips back, making sure to swipe over his tip to collect all of his pre-cum.

“I’m gonna cum,” Dick moaned out, somehow managing to pick up his speed even more. You were practically sobbing by now, your makeup leaked down your face and your lipstick was smeared across your chin along with the base of Dick’s cock.

His load shot down your throat in thick spurts causing you to gag around him one last time, his hands holding you all the way down on his length to make sure you swallow all of his cum. You swallowed his load once Dick let you off of him, sticking your tongue out to show him you swallowed it all.

“Good girl,” Dick smiled at you, patting your cheek and helping you up. “What do you say we just stay in here and go to sleep?”

You nodded and padded over to Dick’s closet for an oversized tee, grabbing one and stripping out of your clothes to change. You and Dick crawled into bed together once you were changed and snuggled into each other.

“I’m sorry I came with Alex, I didn't think you’d care,” you said with a sheepish smile.

“It’s okay, but can you just be my girlfriend so those assholes can finally know you’re really mine?” Dick asked, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, fine,” you giggled and pushed his face away from yours.

Boy did you love this jealous side of Dick.

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[lalasimmer]

How to convert Sims 4 3D CAS Rooms to Sims 3

Disclaimer: If you’re not familiar with Blender/TSRW/UVs then this tutorial may not be for you. If you don’t have Sims 4 Studio which needs the Sims 4 base game (or don’t know how to extract the meshes without it) this tutorial may not be for you. Honestly it’s pretty straight forward, but there’s a lot of trial and error and going in game and out of game checking placement, etc. I use Blender 4.1 for this, but you should still be able to do the same things in the older versions. I'm trying to make this as easy as possible. I’m here to answer any questions though 💕 Tutorial below

Things you’ll need:

Blender (whatever version you prefer)

Sims 4 Studio

TSRW ( I use version 2.0.86)

My Christmas CAS Room here

My TSRW work file here

Tutorial:

Find a Sims 4 CAS room that you like and open it up in Sims4Studio. This is the one I'll be using for the tutorial.

In the Texture tab, export the textures. The only textures that matter are the first 3 diffuse. Go to the Meshes tab and export the mesh, it will save as a .blend file. After that you can close out of Sims4Studio.

Open my Christmas CAS Room in TSRW. You'll get this message. Hit ignore and don't send. We only need this file as a reference to resize the SIms 4 CAS room. Export the mesh as an obj, name it whatever you like. You can close TSRW for now.

Open Blender and open the .blend file you exported from Sims4Studio. Make sure to delete studio_mesh_0 as it's just the shadow map and we don't need that. This is what mine looks like after fixing the textures.

Then import the wavefront obj you just exported from TSRW. Again we're just using this as a size reference.

This is what it looks like after I added the obj. I scaled, moved, and rotated the room to match up as close as I could with my reference mesh. When you have it lined up to your liking you can delete the reference mesh. I usually import the sims 3 body to see where my sim would be in CAS as well so feel free to do that too.

Now we have to separate the objects that use transparency in the scene to their own group. The transparent objects will always be located on studio_mesh_1. I usually do this in UV mode. Make sure UV Sync Selection is on. Where the red arrow is, that's the UV Selection button. It's blue so that means its on.

Tip: If you're using the same Blender version I am (I'm not sure if the older versions below Blender 3.0 do this) you can disconnect the alpha in shader editor and then you can easily see what uses transparency because it has a black background like the plants. Don't worry about the one outside the window as that's on the backdrop image and doesn't show in CAS.

Important: Also, make sure you delete the back of the mirror frame or it will show through the mirror in game. I usually select it in the UV editor as well and delete it.

After selecting all the objects that use transparency, I go to the 3D viewport window and press P, then selection. Now they're on their own layer as you can see. That's a very important step so please don't miss it.

Sims 4 CAS Rooms don't have a closed room like ts3 and if you don't add walls/ceiling with planes you'll be able to see that it in CAS. You can do this in any way you're comfortable with. If you don't understand how to do it feel free to ask me. For this tutorial I will not be doing this perfectly lol I've done enough rooms and I'm just trying to teach here 😩

Okay now last is renaming groups to import into TSRW. Make sure it's in this exact order and uses the exact group numbers.

Group 0 - Mirror

Group 1 - Windows/Curtains

Group 2 - View outside the window

Group 3 - Walls

Group 4 - Objects with transparency

Depending on the CAS Room you convert, yours may not have a mirror you know. You can delete groups in TSRW, experiment, feel free to ask me questions as well.

After renaming the groups, select only the groups you renamed and export as an obj. Make sure that object groups is checked so that they can stay in groups.

Open TSRW and open the testroom_cas.wrk file.

After opening the file you'll see this exact room in this tutorial lol because I had to test some things first 😅

Import the CAS room you converted from ts4. You'll get these two messages. Click yes on the first and no on the second.

Disclaimer: Make sure you reduce polygon sizes or it won't import and give you an error

Import your textures (yours may be different than mine depends on the converter) but most have been the same that I've seen. Group 0 is the mirror it doesn't require a texture. Group 1 and Group 4 usually have the same texture.

Disclaimer: TSRW an be finnicky with textures sizes, I havent gotten any issues since using the 4GB patch, but just in case. Texture sizes from ts4 can run pretty big 4096x2048 even 8196x4096. I would resize to no bigger than 2048x1024 in my opinion, but whatever works for you.

After export to sims3pack or export as package file. Make sure you compress your files and you should be good to test your CAS room in game.

This is the finished product. Should look something like this or better lol considering this was quick 😅

If you would like to make your own from the original ts3 cas room, I would suggest watching this Youtube video (it's for TS4 but it still applies and is helpful) and the link to the original ts3 cas room is here. Since we can convert ts4 to ours you could probably just build your own and go from there as well.

Thanks to @mookymilksims for testing things for me and converting her own. If you would like to try this tutorial out and experiment with room placements using @boringbones Ultra wide CAS mod which changes the field of view in cas so that you can see the whole cas room, it is here. I didn't use it for mine, but that's only because I found out about it after from Mooky lol and I'm tired of converting them 😅 but feel free to ask me any questions if you need help 😊

[narastories]

on the topic of writing software

I want to ramble at you about some writing software options. 98% of the time I'm perfectly content with LibreOffice Writer (and previously I used Word, back when Microsoft products were less shitty). But every now and then when I have a new project (like now - more on that later) I start looking for something shiny and new to try. And I fell down into another research rabbit hole lol

I usually don't talk a lot about this bc my needs are very simple, and not sure how useful my opinion is to others, but I enjoy the topic. It's an intersection of creative writing and tech nerdiness and I like both of those things. Also what writing software you prefer really depends on the type of writer that you are, and everyone has a slightly different writing process and I find that fascinating.

Now, as I said, I'm coming at it from a slightly tech-nerd angle. I don't care if the installation is clunky, I'm happy to see the words open-source, and the need to create an account will already mildly piss me off (:

Don't worry, I'm not as intense as the guy writing his novel in Vim. Though fucking respect. And I can't say I'm not tempted to try it even with the steep learning curve lmao (Seriously, if you don't know Vim is notorious among software developers.)

Anyway, things I've tried so far:

Manuskript: this was listed as an open-source Scrivener alternative (though I haven't tried Scrivener. so.). I gave it a go when I was writing heart worth the trouble and it was pretty nice. It helped me when I had to move scenes and chapters around. But overall I think it was made with plotters in mind bc it wants you to enter a lot of information upfront. I'm not a planner/architect type of writer so this type of software is a bit overwhelming for me. Still, the fact that it's open source and works on Linux gets kudos from me.

Wavemaker: I recently played around with this, and I actually surprisingly like the features it has. You can put multiple books in a project, which is very nice if you like to work on different things, like fanfic, novels, etc. The mindmap is a feature I liked, though it's a bit clunky bc it collapses the text fields when you exit, and once I added an image field by accident that I could never remove lol I do like a bit of a snowflake method, so that feature is cool, and the cards are pretty straightforward too. Usually, my problem with these apps is that I don't even want to touch half of the features so they are pointless to me, but the features of Wavemaker were kind of nice. It's a web app that you can download and use offline but it's still working from your browser if that makes sense. That was what I didn't really appreciate. Also, it doesn't give you a lot of options to back it up. You either save the wavemaker file, export it into a document (which is fine, but it adds an extra step to the backup process) or you sync with Google Drive *shudders*

Things I want to try out:

Calmly Writer: now this is just purely a text editor that focuses on being very zen, streamlined, distraction-free, etc. It's pretty and it has typewriter sounds. (Yeah, I'm not immune to a pretty UI and harmless fun features alright? I can contain multitudes :P) It has an online version, but you can also download it, and works on Windows, Mac, and Linux. On paper, the desktop app requires a license, but the way they put it is that you can evaluate it for free and the evaluation doesn't have an enforced time limit... So. As good as free. (Though if I really like it, I would totally consider buying a license for 20usd that I can use on 3 computers, that seems fair. I appreciate a license over a subscription model for sure.) Honestly, I think this is the one I'm going to try next bc it just integrates perfectly into my writing process. That being: a multitude of messy, hand-written notes and notebooks + a document editor + backups on hard drive and GitHub (yes, really) ^^"

Shaxpir: This is on the opposite end of the spectrum basically, but out of the "fancy" ones, I kind of like the look of this the most. I like the statistics part in particular. But honestly, I probably won't try it bc it doesn't have a Linux version which would be a pain in the ass for me, and is cloud-based. I kind of don't really trust them, which is my biggest issue with these companies. (Although the creator's heart seems to be in the right place when it comes to AI. Basically, some of their features are based on machine learning and language models. For example, it will recognize passive voice, if it's an adverb with "-ly" or the emotion of a word. Which I think is all cool and fine and shouldn't be lumped in with generative AI. But he also had a website that did this analysis for already published works, and when people pointed out that it was sketchy, he took that down and I can respect that. I'm not sure how much it influenced the actual features of the app, maybe I'll just take a peek out of curiosity. The whole thing does make me have trust issues though lmao) If anyone has experience with it though, I'm interested to hear about it.

Obsidian: not a dedicated writing software, but rather an elaborate note-taking app. I heard good things about it from smart people lol If I really wanted to access my writing on my phone, I would probably use this bc it works on every platform and has end-to-end encrypted sync with version control. I heard you can also integrate it with GitHub which is always music to my ears lol But the setup probably takes a bit of time and I'm not particularly motivated to do that right now.

So yeah, those are the options that appeal to me right now. If anyone used these and has opinions, I'm all ears :D

[domm1etae]

Hello!! If requests are still open can I ask for a Seonghwa/reader office fic? Ever since I've found that one office asmr video he did I can't stop thinking about it 😭

Overtime Attraction

seonghwa x reader

oneshot | mdni

2.5k

Y/N’s strict, no-nonsense boss Seonghwa calls them in for a late-night “work session” that quickly turns into way more than just project revisions

nsfw tags under

readers gender not specif. , top seonghwa, boss/employee, workplace tension, power dynamics, praise kink, slow burn, buildup, desk sex, possessive seonghwa, tension release, passionate make-out, teasing, thigh touching, mutual pining, eye contact, unguarded moments, lap straddling, finger teasing, deep kissing, after-hours intimacy, needy touches

Y/N hurried down the marble hallway, heels clicking in sync with the beat of the clock ticking on the wall. It was 8:59, and every second mattered when it came to Park Seonghwa. As their boss, he was notorious for his unwavering punctuality and no-nonsense attitude. Nothing frustrated him more than tardiness, and Y/N had been on the receiving end of his reprimands enough times to know they didn’t want to push his patience any further.

Sliding into their desk just as the clock struck nine, Y/N let out a small sigh of relief. But the relief was short-lived. Seonghwa’s office door opened, and he stepped out with his usual commanding presence. He scanned the room, his sharp gaze briefly landing on Y/N, and for a moment, they could feel their pulse race.

“Team meeting in the conference room. Now,” he announced, his tone clipped and direct. No unnecessary pleasantries. Just business as always.

Y/N grabbed their notebook, gathering themselves before following him. As they settled into their usual seat, they couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves. This project was crucial, and Seonghwa had been working them all hard to ensure everything went perfectly. His expectations were high, and they didn’t want to be the one who let the team down.

Seonghwa took his seat at the head of the table, flipping through his notes with focused precision. He went over every aspect of the project, analyzing each detail and making it clear exactly what he wanted. His calm, authoritative tone filled the room, and Y/N found themselves hyper-aware of every word, jotting down notes to ensure they wouldn’t miss a thing. But despite their efforts, Seonghwa’s expression remained as unreadable as ever.

At the end of the meeting, as everyone else began packing up to leave, Seonghwa’s gaze fell on Y/N. He raised an eyebrow, his face as composed as always.

“Y/N, stay behind a moment.”

Y/N felt their stomach tighten with a mix of anticipation and dread. Had they made a mistake? They waited as the room emptied, glancing up at Seonghwa as he watched everyone file out. Once the door closed, he leaned back, his fingers steepled in thought.

“There’s a section in your report from last night that has some errors,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Some critical data was left out. I’ll need to go over it with you later to make sure it’s fixed before tomorrow.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a pang of embarrassment. They’d spent hours on that report, meticulously checking each line, but evidently, it hadn’t been enough to meet his standards. “Of course, sir. I’m really sorry about the oversight—I thought I’d gotten everything.”

Seonghwa’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “I know you worked hard, and I appreciate the effort. But my standards are high for a reason.” He glanced at his watch. “I have meetings the rest of the day, so we’ll handle this tonight after hours. Make sure you’re available.”

Y/N’s heart skipped at the idea of being alone in the office with Seonghwa, especially given the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks. There was something about him—his intense focus, his precision—that made it hard not to be captivated by him. And though they’d never admit it, the idea of a private meeting with him was thrilling.

“Understood,” they replied, maintaining their composure despite the rush of anticipation.

Throughout the day, Y/N worked tirelessly to finish other tasks while nervously glancing at the clock. The office gradually emptied, and by 7 PM, they and Seonghwa were the only ones left. As the last few coworkers waved goodbye, Seonghwa finally emerged from his office, his expression as composed as ever.

“Y/N,” he called, gesturing for them to follow him. They stood up, clutching their notes and laptop, and walked into his office, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement settle over them as he closed the door behind them.

He sat down across from them, pulling up the document on his computer. “Let’s start from the top,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he scanned through the lines. They worked through the report, his voice low and steady as he pointed out each section that needed correction.

But as the minutes ticked by, the air between them grew more charged. Every time his hand brushed over the mouse, or his shoulder accidentally brushed theirs, Y/N felt their heart skip a beat. His closeness was almost dizzying, and the usual stoic, unbreakable mask he wore seemed to falter slightly as they moved through the corrections together.

At one point, as they both reached for the same section on the screen, their hands met, lingering longer than necessary. Y/N looked up, catching the flicker of something deeper in his gaze—a hint of warmth, of something that wasn’t entirely professional. His fingers lingered on theirs, and he didn’t pull away.

Seonghwa cleared his throat, finally releasing their hand. But his gaze remained intense, locked on them with an unreadable expression. “Y/N,” he began, his voice lower than before, carrying a hint of vulnerability. “I… don’t usually let things like this happen.”

Y/N’s heart pounded. “Me neither,” they whispered, barely able to find their voice. There was something raw in his expression, something they hadn’t seen before. And in that moment, the weight of his controlled, disciplined exterior finally broke.

He leaned forward, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from their face. “You’ve been working so hard,” he murmured, his fingers grazing their cheek with surprising tenderness. “But I think there’s been something between us for a while now.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and before they could respond, he closed the distance between them, his lips brushing softly against theirs. The kiss was gentle at first, almost cautious, as if testing the waters. But as they melted into his touch, his grip on their waist tightened, pulling them closer. His strict, measured demeanor fell away, replaced by a passion that left them breathless.

Seonghwa lifted them onto his desk, his hands exploring with a newfound freedom that left them shivering. He whispered praise, his words quiet and reverent, as if he were savoring each moment. “I’ve wanted this for longer than I should admit,” he murmured against their skin, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N wrapped their arms around his neck, pulling him closer, their own restraint slipping away. The air was charged, heavy with everything unspoken between them.

Seonghwa’s lips brushed against Y/N’s, deepening the kiss as his hands found their waist, pulling them flush against him. Y/N’s legs shifted, one knee rising as they positioned themselves on his lap, their skirt hiking up as they straddled him. A low sound rumbled from his chest, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine as his fingers traced circles on their thighs.

“Y/N…” Seonghwa’s breath ghosted over their lips, his voice thick with a want he had carefully kept buried until now. “You… have no idea…”

Y/N’s fingers traced up to his tie, tugging it slightly, silently urging him closer. He let out a soft groan, pressing his hips forward so they could feel the evidence of his own need. His hands traveled up their sides, grazing over the fabric of their blouse, his touch just shy of indulgent.

“More,” Y/N whispered, the word escaping them in a needy breath. They felt their pulse quicken as his hands finally traveled to cup their face, his thumb brushing softly over their bottom lip before trailing down, brushing over the sensitive spot at the base of their neck.

A sly smile played on Seonghwa’s lips as he watched their reactions, reveling in every hitch of their breath and the faint flush on their cheeks. “Oh, you want more?” His voice held a note of control, deep and rich, as if he was savoring each moment of their unraveling.

“Yes…” they murmured, and he raised an eyebrow, his hands sliding back down to grip their waist firmly. They gasped softly as he lifted them onto his desk, his expression darkening as he took in the sight of them, legs spread just enough to reveal the hint of lace at the edge of their skirt.

He leaned in, capturing their lips again, a little rougher this time, his gloved hand reaching to cradle their cheek while his other hand trailed to their thigh, inching upward with a slow deliberateness. Each kiss became more intense, more consuming, until they felt dizzy with need. His thumb traced small circles on the bare skin just below the hem of their skirt, his lips moving to trail down their neck, nibbling softly as he went.

Y/N’s hands clutched the back of his blazer, pulling him close as he teased them, letting out a quiet whimper as his hand finally ventured to the edge of their underwear. “Seonghwa, please…”

He smiled against their skin, his breath warm as he whispered, “Shh, we’re not alone yet. Do you really want someone to hear?” But despite his caution, his thumb pressed into them through the fabric, earning a muffled gasp from Y/N as they bit their lip to keep quiet.

"Good. Just like that,” he murmured, his voice heavy with approval, as he toyed with them, keeping the touch just light enough to drive them wild with need. “Be good for me, and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Unable to contain their need any longer, they pressed their hips up to meet his touch, their body aching for more as he continued to tease, his fingers tracing soft circles around their most sensitive spot, still separated by just a thin layer of fabric. His control, his restraint, was maddening, and he relished every second of watching them unravel under his touch.

With his other hand still steady on their cheek, he finally whispered against their lips, “Hold on to me, Y/N.”

Seonghwa’s voice was steady and sure, like he was holding the reins even as the world tilted beneath them both. Y/N’s pulse quickened, their hands clutching his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm line of his back. His words echoed in their mind—Hold on to me. They did as he commanded, wrapping their legs around his waist, drawing him closer still, as he continued his slow, torturous exploration.

His fingers traced the waistband of their underwear, skimming over their skin just enough to leave a tingling path. He maintained eye contact, a look of both mischief and fierce intent in his gaze, as if savoring the power he held in their shared secret, here, alone in his office after hours. Y/N was panting softly, struggling to keep quiet even as their restraint unraveled under his measured, relentless touch.

Seonghwa’s lips met the edge of their jawline, and he brushed his nose along their cheek, lingering by their ear. His whisper was barely audible, but it sent a shiver down their spine. “You’re so beautiful like this, Y/N,” he murmured. “So responsive… so ready for me.”

Y/N’s head tilted back, giving him access to the curve of their neck, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His lips trailed down, placing open-mouthed kisses along their throat, teeth grazing just enough to leave a whisper of pressure before he soothed each spot with his tongue. His hand slid up their thigh, and this time, he didn’t stop at the edge of their underwear. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding their center, slick and warm with anticipation.

A shaky breath escaped Y/N as his fingers began to move, slow and sure, teasing and tracing over every sensitive spot he discovered. Y/N’s hands found his tie again, tugging at it reflexively as their head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as they lost themselves in the sensation. His touch was skilled, and the friction drove them to the brink, each movement adding fuel to the smoldering fire between them.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low, a trace of roughness seeping into his usually controlled tone. Y/N’s gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes made them feel as if they were laid bare, every inch of desire on display for him alone. He didn’t look away, his fingers moving with greater purpose now, watching every small gasp and whimper, reveling in the effect he had on them.

When he finally withdrew his hand, Y/N bit back a whine of protest, only to feel him shift them back on the desk, guiding them to lie back. The cold surface beneath was a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body as he loomed over them, lips curved in a self-assured smirk.

“Be patient, Y/N,” he whispered as he leaned down, his hands tracing the curves of their body before he carefully unbuttoned their blouse, his touch gentle yet decisive. “We don’t want to rush this… not after all that time spent building up to it.”

With each article of clothing he removed, his gaze became more intense, drinking in the sight of them with an appreciative, possessive gleam. When they were finally bared before him, he let his hands roam, mapping every inch of them, his touch both comforting and electrifying.

His lips claimed theirs again, and this time, there was no restraint. His kiss was demanding, consuming, his hands gripping their hips as he settled between their legs. They could feel the hard press of him against their core, both of them beyond any semblance of control. His fingers laced with theirs as he aligned himself, pressing forward with an exquisite slowness that made them gasp. His forehead rested against theirs as he whispered, “You’re mine tonight, Y/N. Every part of you.”

With every thrust, his control slipped just a bit further, and he abandoned the careful restraint he had kept around his desire for so long. They clung to each other, their shared need overcoming any lingering hesitations, their breaths mingling in the heated silence of the empty office.

Each movement was a promise fulfilled, a long-held tension finally released, as he guided them to the brink, his voice a steady, grounding presence in their ear, murmuring words of praise and desire that left them trembling beneath him. And as they reached their peak together, Seonghwa’s name fell from Y/N’s lips in a breathless whisper, echoing into the quiet, marking the end of one kind of distance—and the beginning of something far more consuming.

They stayed close, breaths slowing as they held each other, still entangled on his desk. Seonghwa’s fingers gently traced along their arm, as if reluctant to let them go, even now. He smiled, soft and real, his usually sharp expression softened in a rare, unguarded moment.

“Tomorrow…” he began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “you might just have to stay late again.”

[catgirlredux]

There’s a certain breed of hopelessness that makes someone volunteer for the AKO program: that convinces them that months of grueling training, hyperinvasive surgeries, and almost zero human contact is the correct life path for them. Even after training is over, the only “people” they’ll likely interact with have been hand-picked for the program from childhood; it’s very seldom that two volunteers get assigned to the same taskforce, they’re so rare.

I’ve seen only maybe two dozen of them in the thirty years I’ve been an AKO trainer. They always have the same defeated, desperate look - it’s not normal. When a person has nothing left in their life, they might pull some wild stunts, sure. But some of these volunteers are far from destitute. I’ve seen their files: they have money, family, some even held government positions. No, what these pilots are missing, what they think they can find in the cockpit of a HAK, must be much more obscure.

Call me crazy, but I think it’s “humanity”. A soul, if you will. All these people felt left out, felt like they were falling behind the human race in some way. Unable to communicate, on a whole different level, you know? Maybe they never belonged. I don’t really know. But somehow they all make their way here. And I get it, to be honest. I’ve never actually piloted a HAK myself, but staring up at that giant chassis, a robot full to bursting with a human-compatible AI shell, I can only imagine how terribly loud the voices might get.

There’s another thing. Do you know what terminus is? They describe it as when the suit’s AI takes over the pilot’s brain and makes it go haywire, but that isn’t quite accurate. See, a pilot doesn’t actually control the HAK - the system does. The pilot acts more like an organic feedback center. A human knows its directive, and the electric signals from its brain basically send a big old shot of dopamine to the mech’s computer.

But sometimes, when a pilot plugs in too often or flies too much, or their brain is just a little bit too attuned to the brain of their suit, something strange happens. The two begin merging - their EG signals start to run in parallel, they act almost perfectly in sync, the world outside of the suit begins to feel unreal. If it gets bad enough, the pilot’s cells will actually begin to accept the HAK’s nanofilaments as their own. It’s a gruesome sight: threads of metal literally melting into a person’s flesh and bone, pumping blood like veins. Completely irreversible.

I bring this up just because, volunteer pilots have a much higher rate of terminus than early recruits. It’s almost like they want it to happen. They flee the human world, alter their bodies forever, and if they get “lucky”, if you will, they find something that they can finally understand. And more importantly, something that understands them.

A certain breed of hopelessness indeed.

[queer-ragnelle]

Are you familiar with the Soviet/West German 1988 film To Kill A Dragon? I just became aware of it but haven't watched it yet. It follows a Sir Lancelot who is a descendant of the OG. It's on YT subtitled in full length apparently too!

Hi!! I was not familiar with this so thank you for bringing it to my attention! I'll do you one better than the YouTube video, since that one has unreliable subtitles that only show up half the time. I've downloaded an MKV file of the movie and found subtitles that sync up perfectly! It's here on my MEGA Drive for everyone to download and watch as they please. :^) Look how sick this movie poster is!!!

[galactic-magick]

hmm i was just thinking about milchick x lumon worker who isn’t severed? maybe they also have a management position? they’d both be each others comfort in the workplace whilst also having dancing like the defiant jazz episode + the marching band in s2

OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA

Honestly Milchick having some sort of co-manager would make so much sense, especially because our man has SO much on his plate

Like imagine if he actually had help with all the shit he had to do between seasons. He had to fire and rehire everyone, make them all pineapple gift baskets, redecorate several rooms on the severed floor, make a propaganda video...need I go on lol like SOMEONE HELP HIM

I'm thinking maybe you and him would split the severed floor management equally, like he'd still be the main floor manager but he'd focus mainly on MDR, O&D, and Mammalian's Nurturable while you manage Choreography and Merriment and a couple other departments

And if you're artsy maybe you're the one who repaints all the murals and composes the music for MDEs or something like that

I literally love the thought of this so much! Anyways so here's a little story about you guys prepping the marching band together :)

You know how stressed Seth has been with Mark taking a couple days off of work, but you're thankful for the extra time, if you're honest.

Coordinating a victory celebration is no joke, you've found out. You want it to be perfect, to appropriately commemorate all you've worked so hard to achieve. Mark is about to complete the file that will change Lumon and the world forever, and you can only hope you'll be able to bask in the success, too. Every note and step must be perfect. Kier will be watching.

"How is their progress?" Milchick enters the room, right as you stop conducting the band practice.

"Oh you know, some of them are still playing off key, and corporate messed up some of the uniforms. How about you?"

He chuckles a bit, "Mark's outie gave me a call and promised to be at work tomorrow. Will they be ready for the historic day?"

A few band members nod, stiffening their posture.

"We'll run it through a few more times to be sure." you say. "The choreography still needs work, though."

"Might I assist?"

"Be my guest."

The band stands up at Milchick's request, and performs the number you've been practicing with them. Seth shakes his head in disappointment, stopping them about halfway through.

"Unacceptable. Where is the merriment?"

"We've been practicing all day, we're tired." one of the members says.

"Kier never complained of such things, and neither should you. Again."

They run it again. And again. And again.

Finally, Milchick decided to lead them himself.

"Let's show them how it's done, shall we?"

He takes your hand and dramatically spins you around, leading you into the first marching steps. Both of your movements are smooth and timed perfectly to the beat, and as you go the rest of the band joins in. After a couple more run-throughs, they're finally ready.

You start dismissing the innies at their staggered times, following Seth back to your offices after they're all gone.

"Seth?" you call his name as you gather your things. Usually you both work long past usual hours, but you need your rest for tomorrow.

"Yes?"

"Things aren't going to be the same after this."

"I..." he glances at his computer screen, the welcome message still unfixed. "I know. But we can live with the knowledge that we helped change the world. Kier's pride in us will be enough."

"But...won't you miss it a little bit? You know, like the parties? The dances? I actually really liked planning and setting those up for them."

"I suppose I will miss the Music Dance Experiences," he agrees. "Would you like to have one last one?"

You smile.

"I would."

He gathers the music and speaks, handing you the list of songs to choose from.

"What'll it be?"

"How about bouncy swing?"

"Wonderful choice."

He turns it on and takes your hands, your feet syncing to the rhythm. You spin each other around, slide from side to side, and laugh at each other's antics. For a moment, you forget all your worries about tomorrow.

For a moment, it's just you and him.

Seth has been your comfort in this job, as you've been for him. As much as you both believe in Lumon's mission, it's an incredibly taxing job. You're both running on empty half the time, spread too thin between a hundred different tasks. Corporate is barely appreciative, giving shitty performance reviews and always demanding better. But you always know Seth thinks you're doing a good job, and that's all that matters to you.

The song ends and you give him a hug, quick enough that he can't protest.

"We'll be okay, right?"

His answer isn't immediate, causing a slight thundering in your heart.

"Only tomorrow will tell."

[barelytolerabled]

The Spark

Aaron hotchner x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aaron, who initially had a tense rivalry, find yourselves entangled in a secret relationship after a moment of passion at work.

Warnings: smut

WC: 0.9k

Aaron had always been a challenging person to work with. You were both incredibly skilled FBI agents, but you had different approaches and sometimes that caused tension between you. However, that tension had a different edge to it. It was more like a spark than a fire. It wasn't something that you wanted to put out, it was something you wanted to fan until it became a full-blown flame.

It was late at night and you were both still in the office, going over some case files. You had been working together for hours and the tension between you had been building up steadily. You could feel Aaron's eyes on you, and it made you feel both excited and uncomfortable.

After a few minutes of silence, you couldn't take it anymore. You turned to him and said, "This is for stress relief only."

Before he could respond, you pushed him onto the desk, climbed on top of him and began to kiss him deeply. Aaron was initially surprised, but soon he began to reciprocate, running his hands through your hair and pulling you closer.

As you moved together, the tension and stress of the day began to fade away. It was just the two of you, lost in each other, and nothing else mattered.

But as Aaron's hips met yours in a frenzied rhythm, you knew that this wasn't just stress relief. There was something more between you two, something that neither of you could deny any longer.

Aaron moaned as you slammed into him again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. "No other reason," you added, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your words.

But as Aaron flipped you over and took control, his lips crashing into yours, you both knew that this was more than just stress relief. It was the beginning of something intense and passionate, something that neither of you had ever experienced before.

As you both lay there, on the desk, catching your breath, you could feel Aaron's fingers tracing circles on your back. "This was just for stress relief, right?" he asked, his voice husky.

You looked up at him and saw the raw desire in his eyes. "No other reason," you grit out as you drove into him again, hands pinning his hips to the mattress and revelling in the way Aaron whimpered at the roughness they were exhibiting.

From that moment on, you both knew that there was something more between you. The tension between you had shifted from rivalry to something more intense, and it was clear that there was no going back.

As the weeks went by, you and Aaron became more and more entangled in each other. Your work dynamic had shifted, and you found that you were more in sync than ever before. The way you worked together was almost like a dance, each move complementing the other perfectly.

But it wasn't just work that had changed. You found yourself thinking about Aaron all the time, even when you were away from the office. The way his body felt against yours, the way he tasted, the way he looked at you when you were both lost in passion – it was all consuming.

You knew that it was dangerous to mix business with pleasure, but you couldn't help the way you felt. Aaron felt the same way, and the two of you found yourselves in a secret relationship that nobody else knew about.

It was thrilling and terrifying all at once, but you couldn't imagine going back to the way things were before. You were addicted to each other, and nothing else seemed to matter.

But one day, everything changed. A case that you were working on went horribly wrong, and Aaron was caught in the crossfire. He was badly injured, and you were forced to watch as he was taken away in an ambulance.

You sat in the waiting room, your heart in your throat, waiting for news. When the doctor finally came out, you could see from the look on his face that it wasn't good.

"He's stable," the doctor said, "but we don't know if he's going to make it."

You felt like the ground had been pulled out from under you. You had never felt so helpless in your life.

As the hours dragged on, you sat by Aaron's bedside, holding his hand and willing him to wake up. It was the hardest thing you had ever had to do, and you didn't know how you were going to survive if he didn't make it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aaron opened his eyes. You felt a rush of relief flood through you, and tears streamed down your face as you leaned down to kiss him.

From that moment on, everything changed again. You both knew that you couldn't keep your relationship a secret anymore. Life was too short to hide how you felt.

So you took a deep breath and told him everything. You told him how you felt, how you had always felt, and how you didn't want to hide anymore.

To your relief, Aaron felt the same way. He took your hand and told you that he loved you, and that he didn't care who knew it.

From that moment on, you and Aaron were together in every sense of the word. You worked together, loved together, and faced whatever challenges came your way together. And you knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be able to tear you apart.

[lokisgoodgirl]

How do you think Loki would feel about Valentines day?? I feel like his first time hearing about it he would initially think it's ludicrous, because he would spoil his lover every day. But then he would end up getting you something amazing, probably because you mentioned something about something an ex had got you for a past Valentines day and he would refuse to be outdone by a mere mortal. I also think he'd hate everything being red 😂

Valentines Day 🙈🙈 I'm so sorry anon. Regardless...

I love your take on it! However, let me digress a little from your theory...

Loki's 'first time' hearing about Valentines day implies he's not been on Earth long. He's probably still salty (if we're going with traditional Avenger Loki HC, stay with me..) and generally snooty about mortal shenanigans. I think he'd have to be cajoled into it, and then he'd end up really enjoying it, and absolutely turning into what you say 😅

A little silly... I don't even know

"Val-en-tines," Loki sneered, "It sounds like that malaise Rogers is always catching."

"You're thinking of 'venereal', Brother." Thor grinned up from his pancakes, and as Loki watched him, dead-eyed, a fat glob of maple syrup dripped through his sibling's stubble. "I can assure you they're quite different." His gaze drifted. "At least, I think so."

Rogers strode through the door, ipad in hand, "What's different?" he said, and slid it across the countertop.

Loki eyed it with distrust as Thor stuffed another forkful of pancake in his mouth and immediately answered, muffled, "Venereal disease."

"Gee whillakers, let me get my coffee first..."

"And a condom," Loki said, supressing a smirk as Steve angled towards him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Absolutely nothing, Rogers," he said, pressing a hand lightly to his chest. "And I can utterly assure you I did not spend my incarcerated weekend rifling through your medical files."

Steve's cheeks flushed. "Those are classified, Laufeyson. It's these kinda antics which make us keep you on house arrest." He threw his hands up as Loki's eyes narrowed. "And cripes, it was eighty years ago!"

Thor swallowed loudly; sticky fingers pushing morning frizz back from his forehead. "Rogers, what say you let my brother out for Valentines Day? Just one night. Go on. I'm sure he'll be very well behaved, especially with a lady as his escort." Thor shot him a long, pleading look, and Loki's mouth formed a hard line.

"Who'd go out with him?" Steve snorted as the kettle clicked off. "Good luck finding a lady who hates red, hates humanity, and hates just about every goshdarn thing as much as he does on Valentines Day."

Loki frowned. "Now hold on just a-" The sentence was aborted by the sudden, frantic click of Thor's fingers.

"Oh! Oh! You know who would be perfect?"

Steve turned and in sync, both of them said the same, familiar name. Thor sounded much more enthusiastic than the captain. Loki's frown deepened. "What are the two of you geese plotting? I won't be part of this."

"Oh, Brother...please let us arrange a date for you. She can't stand me, and she absolutely detests red."

Loki's brows rose. "A venereal date?" he asked cautiously. Steve's hands flew up again.

"Valentines, Loki. And please, stop talking about venereal disease. It's very off putting. I do wish you'd read more than just books on nineteenth century England."

"But they were such cotton brains. They didn't even know who Jack the Ripper was when it's perfectly ob-"

"Brother-"

"Fine!" Loki stood, and grabbed his book. "I'll go on this date. But let it be known it is under duress; venereal or otherwise. And unlike the good Captain here, I shall have the sense to wear protection."

He stormed off with the sound of his brother's laughter ringing in his ears, soaring over Steve's tut of disapproval, and trying to ignore the thrum of excitement pounding against his ribs.

And in his mind, and fizzing at the tips of his fingers, was the beginning of a perfect, emerald rose.

[milkywaygg]

The Cosmas Revamp Chapter 11

Bzzzz…Bzzz…Nora’s consciousness went in and out as she flew around what seemed like the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t a soul in sight, allowing Nora to rest on a nearby rock as she finally turned herself back to normal, catching her breath and her thoughts. Who the fuck did she think she is? That bitch was lucky I didn’t have my wand on me.

As she sat down and surveyed her new surroundings, Nora dug her hands into her sweatpants money, seeing what all she had on her, though her heart dropped as she realized her phone and wand were nowhere to be found, let alone any money to survive. Maybe I shoudn’t have punched her…No, she deserved it. She shouldn’t have called me a skank! Didn’t her mom and dad teach her how to treat guests? It’s not my fault they didn’t do a very good job.

Regardless of how she felt, there was no denying of how ultimately screwed Nora was.  She had left all her stuff at Linnie’s, and there was no way in hell his mom and dad were just gonna let her waltz back in and act like nothing happened. Frankly, Nora was surprised she wasn’t facing a sue notice right about now for assault. 

As she continued to sit on the rock and ponder her next move, Nora looked around and noticed a tall, wired, metal fence with shouting sounds coming from behind. Raising her eyebrows but not wanting to get caught, Nora got up and slowly inched up towards a nearby tree to get a closer view. Fields of large, dark violet cabin-like houses lined up next to each other single-file, and groups of fairies wearing cyan-colored uniforms and helmets marched in various spots, each fairy almost perfectly in sync with each other. The shouting ended up coming from the taller fairies towards the front of each groups, calling out commands and chants for their group to copy. Out of all the houses, one of them, named Fort Jorgen, stood out from the rest, being a gray hut with even more wires around it, and the sign “Fairy World Academy” not too far from the entrance. 

Desperate not to get caught lingering, Nora began to turn away from the tree and head back towards her rock until she heard a familiar, high-pitched voice thanking someone in the distance. Turning back around, Nora felt her heart leap as she recognized Linnie’s tan suit jacket as he floated from a car and entered the Academy. What the hell..what is he doing here? No way they’re gonna let him enlist? He doesn’t seem the type..Wait, where is he going?

Nora couldn’t help but glue her eyes at the scene as she watched Linnie pass Fort Jorgen and keep walking forward. She covered her mouth as she saw him talk to one of the officers, longing to watch him get thrown on his knees and handcuffs placed on his hands for trespassing, To her shock however, one of the officers spoke to him calmly, waving him over to a building towards the end of the row; a pastel rainbow cabin decorated with rainbows, paintings of sunshines, and smiling animals and children, almost reminding her of a kindergarten. Oh..that makes a hell of a lot more sense. 

Keeping her head low, Nora used tree after tree to hide herself as she surveyed the perimeter of the camp, getting closer to the preschool-like building, watching as Linnie entered with a soft smile on his face. She waited for what seemed like an hour before Linnie left the building once more, thanking the other person profusely as he closed the door behind him.

“Linnie.”, Nora called, though careful to let her voice down. When he didn’t hear her however, Nora raised her voice, “Linnie!”

“What?”, Linnie asked, looking around until he saw Nora, shoulders tensing up slightly, “Nora, what are you doing here? I-I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”

“I could tell you the same thing.”, Nora said, scowling but not yelling.”How the hell did they just let you in without arresting you.”

“Jorgen knew that I was coming. I had a job interview today. You know, to pay for all the things the child will need since I don’t think you’ll be any help.”

“Oh come off it! You know I’m in a bad spot right now. Sorry I’m not rich like you are.”, Nora said, crossing her arms. Linnie frowned in return.

“What do you need anyways? I thought you were gone for good.”

“Yea well you and your sister would just love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Nora, that’s not what I meant.”, Linnie sighed, “Of course I don’t condone what Daisy did, but would it kill you to be grateful for people trying to help you for once?”

“What do you mean? I’ve barely caused any trouble!”, Nora yelled, “If anything, you should be the grateful one. I remember how much you talked about wanting a family and I gave that to you. If anything, you and your family should be thanking me for helping you follow your dreams.”

“Nora you just…ugh…you just don’t get it.”, Linnie said, his tone exhausted, “Just…what do you want from me? If you’re here to convince me to get rid of the baby, it’s not happening.”

“Of course not! What do you take me for?”, Nora asked, “I just need to see if it would be possible for me to get my stuff from your house. And maybe hold some cash.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess I could send you stuff over to your mother’s-”

“I can’t go back there, Linnie. You know this.”

“And you know you’re not welcome back at the house.”

“You’re not listening to a fucking thing I’m telling you!”, Nora snapped, her temper getting loose for a moment before taking a breathe, “I’m sorry Linnie. This baby thing just has me stressed out.”

“Uh huh…”, Linnie groaned, Nora rolling her eyes at the lack of sympathy.

“Look, I’m not trying to stay back at that house. I just need my shit back. It’s not a lot to ask for. Plus, maybe some cash would let me stay at a hotel for a few days.”

“I’m not sure Nora. I can convince my dad to let you get your things since Daisy is off shopping, but I don’t really have a lot of money right now.”

“Oh really? But you had money to look at baby supplies earlier.”

“Yes Nora, because unlike you, the baby is my responsibility. A father is supposed to put his children before anyone else and that’s exactly what I’m doing, whether you like it or not. I don’t expect any help from you, but you’ve got to realize that my world doesn’t revolve around making sure you’re ok anymore. It revolves around making sure this baby is cared for and loved with all my heart.”

“Oh my god, give me a break.”, Nora muttered, “Fine, but can you spare at least a little cash? Just enough for me to get something to eat?”

“I suppose so”, Linnie reached into his jacket and grabbed out his wallet, pulling around a few bills before handing it to Nora, “This should get you a burger and some fries at the diner downtown if you want, or you can get some groceries from the gas station. If you want to wait for me, we can see if dad is willing to let you get your things, but I’m sorry. What mom and dad says goes, and I don’t know how willing they’d let you back in if you apologized.”

“Fine whatever. I was tired of staying there anyways.”, Nora said, rolling her eyes as she followed him towards Gonzo’s car. To her surprise, Gonzo didn’t tear into her, but instructed Nora to get her things as quick as she could and leave, taking off with Linnie to get baby supplies. After her trash bag had been gathered, Nora finally left the house for good, pocketing the little money Linnie had given her. Floating towards the bus stop towards the end of Linnie’s neighborhood, Nora took out her phone and scrolled it, somewhat surprised to receive no calls or messages from anyone other than one. She didn’t recognize the number right away, but answered it, as it started with her town’s area code.

“Fairy World Emergency Hospital. How may I assist you.”

“Uhhh..”, Nora stammered for a minute, struggling to process what was happening, “I got a missed call from you. Wrong number maybe?”

“What’s your name, ma’am.”

“Nora Cosma.”

“Oh Miss Nora..I’m so sorry. I’ve tried to call you earlier because you were one of Mary’s emergency contacts.”, the nurse said somberly, “You mother..uh..isn’t doing too well at the moment.”

“What are you talking about? What happened?”

“A neighbor called a few days ago and reported that she had blacked out at her house, lying in her own vomit. As of right now, she’s in the intensive care until and her doctors have reported that she’s extremely dehydrated and is in and out of consciousness. We’re going all we can to help her.”

“Oh…do you have any idea of when she’ll be out?”

“At this rate, I’m not sure if she’s even going to make it.”, the nurse explained, “We’ll give you a call as soon as we know more.”

“Ok then. Thanks.”

Nora hung up the phone and continued to walk back in silence before pausing for a moment. With Mary out of the house, Nora turned around headed towards her neighborhood, making her way towards the house, grateful for a bed to sleep in, even if it were going to be for a couple of days.

[mygfisprentiss]

I want to be close to you

Chapter 3 - Casey and Alex finally get to work together on a case, but Alex is hurt in the process.

The squad’s latest case involved a murderer who was strangling women in their mid 20’s, blonde hair, blue eyes, and with jobs in higher positions; the first three victims were found in an abandoned warehouse, however the latest victim was found in an alley near 75th and luxe; once Warner called them saying she had dna, that’s when everything burst into flames.

Alex had nearly forgotten how to breathe normally once her and Casey had to work so closely on this case considering how fast the D.A wanted to close it. From dawn to the latest hours in the night, Casey and Alex were knee deep in files about potential suspects; repeatedly rushing from the office to the precinct. The uncountable cups of coffee living around their office was embarrassing, the way they worked so in sync like they’d known each other for years. Certain times Alex would fall asleep, fatigue was a result of the shooting from a few months back, she hated it but if she didn’t sleep then that would worsen her health. Whenever this would happen. Casey would drape a blanket she kept in her closet over Alex for however long she slept, she would also unconsciously kiss her forehead with a goodnight. Sleep deprivation or not Casey was definitely drawn to her

it wasn’t until the next few days that the case started to finally make sense, cragen told the two Ada’s that their suspect ‘Mitchell Arrington’ was prone to violent tendencies, he’d been questioned for numerous crimes involving young women.

Alex decided she would talk with him after cragen pointed out that she was his exact type, Casey tried her best not to show her disapproval of the idea but Alex was a big girl; she can hold her own ground.

As Casey watched the interview through the window she could feel her heart start to race; she was so worried for Alex, it wasn’t like she was helpless but Casey felt this need to protect her, they didn’t talk much but were told that they worked efficiently together. Alex looked incredibly sophisticated as she confidently explained to the perp and his legal aid that he’d be facing the death penalty if he didn’t comply; but what happened next made Casey freeze. As Alex was explaining how she knew that these women were killed because Mitchell was an insecure man child; it was like a flip was switched on in his head and his eyes turned red.

He lunged from his seat and gripped his hands around Alex’s neck. Casey froze up, she didn’t think this was reality,

the next thing she knew was seeing Alex in Cragen’s office getting checked out by Huang; she could see the bruises slowly forming around her neck, Cabot claimed she felt fine but Casey knew better than that, Huang led the rest of the squad out of the office and explained that Cabot would be tired for the next few hours and she should take it easy. By the time Casey was more calmed down, she went to check on Alex; she looked like an angel as she slept, Casey couldn’t help but feel responsible, she could’ve been in their with her, they’re a team for gods sake.

The only thing she could do was sit down on the chair next to Alex and go over some files; it was late and she felt herself slowly draping down closer to Alex’s lap, soon they were both sound asleep with Alex being Casey’s cushion.

Alex woke up a few hours later wondering where the hell she was, the last thing she could remember was questioning Arrington about plea deals. She slowly remembered the horrific image of him with his hands wrapped around her neck and started to tear up, as she got up she noticed red hair, oh god-

Casey Novak was wrapped around Alex’s waist, her bangs perfectly laid to the side, the slight whistle of her breathing, and how she could see her toned stomach due to her shirt slightly being pulled up; Alex wiped her eyes and decided to lie there until Casey would wake up and realize their predicament.

[3motionally3xhausted]

Kiss Kiss Fall into another old hyperfixation

Anyway, I randomly wanted to redesign the main cast of Ouran in my style/ with headcanons and my own embellishments

Here's a screenshot redraw, I'll put all the redesigns below the break bc I did all the main characters & wanna talk about the choices I made. Also I made up that uniform redesign on the spot bc I when I was doing the characters I just put them in casual clothes lmao

(I might do some others later, like Renge, Kasanoda, Yasuchika, Benibara, etc.)

Going in order of my least favorite to top favorite. And dont mind that I didn't color the clothes, that's not whats important here lmao

Mori is only at the bottom because I don't like the drawing that much, I still think the design is pretty good. Though, like right when I finished coloring, I decided a bun/top-knot would look better so it's a bit disappointing there. In my head, Mori is kind of struggling to figure out who he is & what he wants to do, which is why he follows Honey around and doesn't talk much. He does genuinely like being around the other hosts though.

Also, the undercut because A) he has the reputation for being the scary one & it kinda suits that, B) uh do I even have to say it? ...its hot He does lowkey look like Sokka from Avatar tho, especially with the blue accents

(edit: I accidentally deleted Mori's file so now this is the only copy so 😭)

Honey is next because again I think the drawing itself is a little off and the design is pretty close to Basil from Omori, which i didn't notice until it was too late lmao. One of the main things I didn't like about his character in the show was obviously how childlike he was & how girls still flirted with him even though he looked and acted 6; So now he still acts a bit childish but doesn't play it up as much & definitely has a more normal voice, not a fckn child's.

Haruhi! I definitely had to keep her glasses cuz they were really cute and kinda sold the whole 'commoner' thing in a way. But other than that I mainly wanted to balance out her femininity and masculinity to make her more androgynous/nonbinary/gender-fluid since she definitely has some of that going on in the show as is. I also gave her dark circles under her eyes to kinda show that she worked really hard to get into Ouran with low status.

Next up is Tamaki of course, getting into the characters I'm most happy with the designs of. One small thing I tried to do for each of them was give them varying hair tones; so even though Honey and Tamaki are both blond, I went very platinum-blond with him. When I started drawing him, my only real thought was "he has to be a pretty boy" so I dont have much to say about my choices, but i do think I succeeded. Don't mind the modern mullet thing, I can't stop it

Kyouya is definitely one of my favorite characters as is, seeing as he has one of the more fleshed out & heart-wrenching backstories in the show. I think the only thing I really wanted to change was getting rid of the Anime Bangs, so I just gave him this kinda sleek, kinda messy pushed-back look with a blue tint. Even though it's simple, I really struggled to come up with anything, until I found a page from the author saying smth like "I don't like the idea of him wearing neat clothes" with a picture of him in like a track suit so I did kinda the same outfit

My absolute #1 favorites, Hikaru & Kauru. They're honestly the ones that started it all because Kauru has been my favorite since I first saw the halloween episode (iykyk).

I don't know why, but I wanted their hair to be fluffier/curly and more of a natural(?) ginger color. I knew I wanted Kauru's to be redder and Hikaru's a bit lighter/blonder, but only subtly. I also gave Kauru a scar on his cheek from that time in Karuizawa, but most notably, I gave them blue and pink eyes as their signature colors. Lastly, their expressions are slightly different, because no matter how much they are in sync and try to match each other perfectly, Kauru's a much gentler soul than Hikaru, so I made Hikaru's smile a bit more snarky while Kauru's is soft.

Thank you for looking at my art/ reading my thoughts, here's an extra little design edit & comparison

(lol, I think they're mimicking Kyouya in this panel idek) (Also here you can see I tried the bun hairstyle w Mori, I think it looks good, but this is a really simple drawing so.)