#like seriously you got him arrested

[oatyoooo]

Fr tho after Will got the orderly to kill Hannibal man was all ‘how rude’ and titted his tat out of pettiness

[magentagalaxies]

vent incoming:

got my grades back for my courses last semester and most of it was to be expected, mostly A's, maybe an A-, etc. but i honestly can't get over the fact that my independent study (the buddy cole documentary) was for some reason given a B. like sure getting a B isn't bad per se, I usually get at least one B every semester and i honestly don't really care about what my exact gpa is as long as i can graduate, but come on. this school put me through months of psychological torment over this project and didn't even have the nerve to give me a B+??? i'm still coping with the self-doubt they forced on me and this bullshit is not helping!!

[dbphantom]

I can only dream of seeing a fraction of the discourse that happens on OP tumblr

[imp-thing]

i have this tangle tower oc i keep forgetting to draw/redesign but i feel like the color palette is a little too close to hawkshaw's and i don't have any actual ideas for it so i don't really ever talk about him

[pucksandpower]

Smooth-Talker

Lando Norris x press officer!Reader

Summary: in which Lando has a pick up line for every occasion

“Did it hurt?” Lando asks, leaning casually against the wall outside the McLaren garage.

You glance up from your clipboard, raising an eyebrow. “Did what hurt?”

“When you fell from heaven,” Lando says with a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. As one of McLaren’s press officers, you’re used to Lando’s constant stream of corny pick up lines and good-natured flirting.

“You know, I think that line was old even when my grandpa used it.”

Lando clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch, straight to the heart!”

You laugh and continue reviewing the schedule for the race weekend. Lando falls into step beside you as you start walking towards the paddock.

“But seriously,” Lando says, “You should be arrested.”

You glance over at him. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“For stealing my heart,” Lando says with a wink.

“Mhm, nice try,” you reply dryly, though you feel your cheeks flush slightly.

“Hey, are you religious?” Lando asks.

You raise an eyebrow. “Not particularly, why?”

“Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers,” Lando says earnestly.

You bite your lip to hide your smile. “That one was pretty good, not gonna lie.”

Lando pumps his fist triumphantly. “Yes! I knew you’d like that one.”

You reach the motorhome and pause, checking your watch. “Okay Casanova, I’ve got to prep for the press conference.”

“Before you go, quick question,” Lando says, gently catching your arm. “Do you have a map?”

You frown in confusion. “A map? What for?”

“Because I keep getting lost in your eyes,” Lando says softly, gazing at you.

You feel your heart skip a beat as you meet his own warm eyes. You open your mouth but no witty comeback comes out.

Lando grins and releases your arm. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He winks and saunters off towards the hospitality tent.

You watch him go, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You’ve always thought Lando was cute, with his curly hair and infectious smile that lights up any room. But since joining McLaren, your feelings have slowly deepened into something more. And based on his incessant flirting, you’re starting to think maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way.

Shaking your head, you refocus on the task at hand — prepping talking points for the upcoming press conference. Still, you can’t stop thinking about Lando and the way he always seems to make you blush and smile, even with his cheesy pick up lines.

Over the course of the race weekend, Lando continues his campaign of corny pick up lines and flirtatious banter. Between FP3 and qualifying, he sidles up next to you in the garage.

“You know what you would look really beautiful in?” He asks.

You glance over at him. “Hmm?”

“My arms,” Lando says with a cheeky wink.

You bite your lip, feeling your cheeks flush. “Lando, I’m trying to work here.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Lando says, though he’s clearly not sorry at all based on his impish grin.

Following qualifying, Lando scrambles out of his car after setting the fastest lap. He makes a beeline over to you through the celebrating crowd of papaya.

“Do you have a Band-Aid?” He asks urgently.

You frown, instantly concerned. “Are you bleeding? What happened?”

“No no, I’m fine,” Lando assures you. “I just scraped my knee falling for you,” he says with a roguish smile.

You cover your face with your hands to hide your blush. “Oh my god, Lando, that was terrible!” You try to look disapproving, but end up laughing.

“Worth it to see you smile,” Lando says warmly before darting off again.

On race day, you’re feeling anxious. As you pace around the paddock, you literally run into Lando.

“Whoa there!” Lando says, catching you by the shoulders. Concern flickers across his face. “You okay?”

You nod, acutely aware of his hands still resting on your shoulders. “Yeah, just nervous I guess.”

Lando rubs your arms reassuringly. “We’re gonna do great. And you know what else is great?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“The view,” Lando says, gaze locked on you. “Pretty spectacular from where I’m standing.”

You duck your head, heart pounding. When you look back up, Lando is watching you closely. He seems to be debating saying something else. After a moment, he just squeezes your shoulder gently. “We’ve got this,” he says sincerely, before heading off to get ready for the race.

You take a deep breath, feeling bolstered by Lando’s encouragement and flirtatious comment.

The race gets underway and immediately descends into chaos. Multiple collisions on the first lap bring out the safety car. You watch anxiously from the garage as the pack circulates behind the safety car for several laps while the debris is cleared.

Finally the message comes across the radio - the race is going green again on the next lap. You glance at the screens and see Lando lining up in P3 for the restart. You cross your fingers and silently will him to have a clean restart.

The pack accelerates for the restart and manages to get through the first few corners without incident. Over the next 20 laps, Lando battles fiercely to maintain his podium position. Other drivers try to challenge him but he holds strong in P3.

With 10 laps to go, you’re on the edge of your seat watching Lando defend P3 with everything he’s got. Suddenly over the radio you hear Lando’s frustrated voice. “Something’s wrong with the car, it’s down on power.”

Your heart sinks as you listen to Lando’s increasingly concerned radio calls about the lack of power. He’s slowly losing positions as the laps tick down. By the last lap, he’s fallen from 3rd to 7th from the sudden power loss.

As Lando’s car limps across the finish line, you hurry down to meet him. He pulls off his helmet and balaclava, looking weary and disappointed.

“Lando, are you okay? What happened out there?” You ask worriedly.

“I’m fine. The car is just a bit banged up,” Lando says with a tired smile. “Not sure what happened with the engine yet though.”

You hesitate, then wrap Lando in a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” you murmur.

Lando seems surprised but hugs you back firmly. For a long moment, you stand there just holding each other, the sounds of the paddock fading away.

Finally you step back, smiling shyly up at Lando. “So, P7. Could’ve been worse I guess, considering the issues you had.”

Lando nods, scrubbing a hand through his wild curls. “Yeah, could’ve been much worse. I’ll take the points.” He smiles ruefully. “Not quite the podium I was hoping for to impress you though.”

You bite your lip. “Lando ...”

Lando rushes to fill the silence. “You know what’s on the podium of my heart?”

You sigh, though you feel your pulse quicken. “What?”

“You,” Lando says softly, gazing at you with open affection.

You stare at him, heart thumping wildly. Before you can overthink it, you grab his race suit and pull him in for a kiss. Lando makes a surprised sound before wrapping his arms around you and kissing you deeply. For a blissful moment, everything else fades away and it’s just the two of you.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Lando has a dazed, elated look on his face. “Wow … so does this mean all my cheesy pick up lines finally worked?”

You laugh and smack his chest playfully. “I don’t know if I’d say they worked … but they did make it very clear someone has a crush on me.”

You smile up at Lando, enjoying the faint blush on his cheeks.

Lando grins. “Maybe just a small one,” he teases. His expression turns more serious. “I really care about you, Y/N. And I’d love to take you on a proper date, if you’d like?”

Your heart swells and you nod. “I’d really like that.”

Lando’s answering smile is bright enough to outshine the sun. He squeezes you in another quick hug. “I better go debrief about the race. But I’ll come find you after?”

You nod, giddy butterflies taking flight in your stomach. “It’s a date,” you say with a smile.

Lando heads off looking like he just won the championship, with a spring in his step and grin on his face. You brush your fingers over your still-tingling lips, scarcely able to believe that really just happened.

After Lando finishes his lengthy post-race debrief, he finds you packing up for the day in the paddock. “You ready?” He asks, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Ready!”

You head out of the paddock hand-in-hand, both still riding the high of finally admitting your feelings for each other.

“Sooo, what exactly did you have in mind for this date?” You ask Lando curiously.

Lando grins. “Well first, how do you feel about Ferris wheels?”

You smile slowly. “I think Ferris wheels have potential to be very romantic.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Lando says with a wink.

You spend the evening strolling around the nearby funfair, enjoying the lights and sounds. Lando wins you an oversized stuffed teddy bear playing carnival games. You share candy floss and corndogs while taking in the sights.

Finally, you hop in line for the Ferris wheel. When it’s your turn, you settle into the seat across from Lando. As the wheel lifts you into the night sky, you take in the sprawling city views.

Lando slides closer and slips his hand into yours. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

You smile, loving how he still seems nervous even after kissing you earlier. “Smooth line, but I’ll allow it,” you tease gently.

Your Ferris wheel carriage reaches the top and pauses, giving you a panoramic view of the city at night. The lights twinkle like stars around you.

It’s magical.

Lando’s arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you closer. Your heart races as you turn towards him. His eyes reflect the dazzling lights as he gazes at you. He brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch igniting sparks along your skin.

As he leans in, you let your eyes flutter shut. His lips meet yours and the rest of the world fades away. Up here above the world, wrapped in Lando’s arms, you feel like you’re flying.

By the end of the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Lando walks you to your hotel room, fingers intertwined, reluctance slowing your steps.

Outside your door, you turn to face Lando. “Thank you for tonight, it was perfect.”

Lando smiles, tracing patterns on your palm with his thumb. “So I did alright for a first date then?”

You laugh. “You far exceeded expectations.” Your smile softens. “I’m really happy.”

“Me too,” Lando says, eyes shining. He takes a deep breath, looking uncharacteristically nervous again. “So, I was wondering … and feel free to say no obviously! But, um, I have two tickets to the Arctic Monkeys concert next weekend and was hoping maybe you’d want to ...” he trails off, biting his lip anxiously.

Your smile widens and you squeeze his hand. “I’d love to be your date to the concert.”

The answering grin that lights up Lando’s face is breathtaking. He punches the air, looking adorably excited. “Yes! This is going to be epic.”

You giggle at his antics. “Well this was a really fun first date. I can’t wait to see what other surprises you have planned.”

You lean in and kiss Lando softly. As you pull back, Lando clears his throat.

“Y/N, can I tell you something without you getting mad?”

You raise an eyebrow curiously. “Umm sure, I guess?”

Lando winces slightly. “I was wondering if you could give me directions ...”

You look confused. “Directions? To where?”

“To your heart,” Lando shoots you a cheesy grin.

You stare at him for a beat, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god, Lando, that was so corny!”

Lando just smiles unrepentantly. “Maybe, but did it work?”

You continue giggling and shake your head. “I don’t know why I find your cheesy lines so charming, but I do.”

You lean in and give him one more quick kiss. “Goodnight, Lando. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lando’s eyes shine happily. “Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he says, squeezing your hand before slowly backing away towards the elevator.

You watch him walk down the hallway, giddy butterflies still fluttering away in your chest.

You have a feeling this is the start of something special. A lifetime of cheesy pick up lines sounds pretty damn perfect.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 3)

first | last | Masterpost | Next

What Tim and Bruce found was completely ridiculous. It really wasn’t hard to find the Doctors Fenton’s website but it was ridiculous! It was outdated and gaudy with animations of cartoony ghosts everywhere. If it hadn’t been for how clear Danny was about his parents' names Tim would have skipped right over it. But when he got past the terrible website design and started reading it his stomach just dropped lower and lower.

The writing was clean and scientific though it couldn’t disguise the malicious delight they took in tearing the creatures they called ‘ghosts’ apart. Whatever these ghosts really were Danny had been internalizing this attitude about Himself for years! They also bragged about their weapons and their government contract. So whether that was true or not Danny hadn’t been lying or delusional, it was his parents. And regardless of what these ghosts actually were it was obvious they were supernatural so RR sent a link to the website to Zatana.

(link)

RR: What do you think?

Tana: Lol is this a joke?

RR: I wish, I know it looks like one but no, this is deadly serious.

Tana: Hang on

Red Robin put down his phone to give Zatana the time to read over the site and looked more into Maddy and Jack Fenton while she did. He found their graduation certificates, and pictures of them in college with what must have been a much younger Vlad. So they were actually doctors of some sort, they had their doctorate, though that didn’t exactly make it any less likely they had gone fully off the rails now.

His phone dinged and he picked it up to see one short message from Zatana.

Tana: I’m coming to the cave.

Tim sighed and put his phone back down, spinning his chair to face B who was hunched over the computer typing furiously. “Zatana is on her way, I asked for her opinion of the Fenton’s research and she must think it’s big.” He said as he dug out a domino mask.

“Hm,” B sounded and went to get his cowl. “Report?”

“The Doctors Fenton are doctors, they got their doctorates though I don’t know in what yet. They’ve been friends with Vlad since university and they certainly at least think they’re studying ghosts. Their website has articles on behaviours and biology, and how to hunt and hurt ghosts. They brag about a government contract.” Tim summarized. “You?”

“The Ghost Investigation Ward does exist and they are a government agency but they only seem to be active in the town of Amity Park and they’re so inept! It wasn’t hard to hack them, they’re trying to sound mysterious and a little dangerous talking about protecting humanity from invasions from other worlds but I don’t think they’re actually that competent,” Batman said with a scowl.

“The only reason we didn’t know about this was because we weren’t looking! And it’s possible Danny is right and they were jamming calls from Amity to the JL, but I have a terrible feeling what actually happened if that the call came through and someone heard them talking about ghosts and rogue government agencies, assumed it was a prank and blocked them,” Bruce said massaging his temples.

“Ah,” Tim said, his heart dropping at how plausible that sounded. Could they have saved Danny before, if they had taken that call seriously.

“And Vlad is the mayor of his town, there are articles about Danny fighting him in public. It seems like everyone knew their relationship was antagonistic at best and No One defended him. The GIW also listed him in their special thanks for helping fund them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been using them as a tool to threaten and control Danny.” Batman said with cold fury. Tim took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

“We weren’t able to protect him, but we will avenge him. And we’ll keep him safe Now,” Tim reminded his father. Privately thinking that as soon as he could he was going to tell Jason about this so they could Really make sure Vlad never came near Danny again. An arrest just wasn’t strong enough for a man like that. He wasn’t going to tell Bruce that though, obviously.

The sound of the Zeta tube interrupted their moment as Zatana arrived, looking slightly more ruffled then she usually did. She must have really rushed here, which was a bit worrying.

“Zatana,” Batman greeted.

“Hello Batman, before we talk I need to check your wards.” She said already walking past them.

“Hm,” Batman sounded, making RR smile a little, how Batman made that sound mean so many different things always sort of amazed him.

“I need to check the ones on your home too. And I’d like to meet the boy you have under your care,” She said briskly.

“How did you know about the boy?” Batman asked gruffly.

“Lucky guess,” she said briskly, her hands glowed as she walked around the cave, making seemingly random gestures as if touching or pulling on invisible threads. None of the bats really understood magic so they left her to it. When she was done they let her up into the manner, she knew their identities already after all and she checked all the wards on the home very thoroughly, occasionally casting spells to reinforce them. They collected Dick and Damian trailing after them curiously as they went as well.

“Alright, can I meet the boy now?” She asked, turning towards Bruce who crossed his arms and puffed out his chest a bit.

“Not till you explain to us what’s going on,” He growled and Zatana looked over the curious stubborn faces surrounding her and sighed.

“Fine,” she allowed, resigned. She rubbed her temples as she looked around for a chair and sunk down into it. “So what the Fentons seem to be referring to as Ghosts are actually denizens of the Infinite Realms, the space in between every world and afterlife. Some of the beings there were once people who died but many aren’t. They’re also known to be very powerful and quite violent though thankfully not particularly interested in the living. The fact that the Government is apparently messing with something like this is very bad news.

“Constantine and I have been keeping half an eye on the situation in Amity Park but they had their own pair of Heroes, Phantom and Red Huntress, who seemed to have the situation well under control so we weren’t all that worried about it. We weren’t tracking the more human elements of the GIW and the Fentons,” She bit her lip and thought for a moment.

“When Tim sent me that website and I was made aware of those, that changed things. What’s worse is the photo the Fentons’ have of their family. Their son… we knew Phantom looked young but ghosts often stay at a younger age than they really are, with how powerful he was we assumed he was Old. But he looks exactly like the Fenton’s son. Did they not notice he was dead or…” She looked around at their faces, apparently getting her answer from their expressions.

“There have been rumours for a long time about a very rare and powerful sort of living dead, humans soaked in the pure energy of the infinite realms resulting in a still living ancient. It’s so rare that people usually think it’s a fairy tale but with the work Phantom’s parents do it makes a sick sort of sense. And what it means is that that boy you have stashed away is basically a baby God and we all have to be very careful.”

There was a heavy silence as they all processed what she was saying. “Are you… sure?” Tim asked, uncertainly.

“I won’t be till I meet him, but I’m as sure as I can be without that at the moment,” she said firmly.

Tim sighed and pulled out his phone. “Cas is with him, I’ll text her to see if she’s up to meeting you. If he’s that powerful we don’t want to push him right?” He asked as he typed out a text to Cas.

“Yes. Like I said he’s been acting as a hero in Amity, he seems like a good kid but I have no doubt in my mind if he’s pushed too far we could have a truly apocalyptic situation on our hands,” She said which made Tim swallow thickly.

His phone dinged and he checked it. “Danny is willing to meet you but he’s really tired so go easy on him and don’t stay long,” Tim relayed her message.

“Alright that’s fine, thank you. Show me the way please,” She requested.

Bruce took over, leaving the way. “We don’t want to overwhelm him, I think only I and Zatana should go in, with Cas still there since he seems to feel safe with her,” Bruce informed his children.

“Alright, just tell us everything soon!” Dick demanded and Bruce’s lips twitched up in just the suggestion of a smile as he nodded to them.

He took off his cowl, he wasn’t in his full uniform anyway and he didn’t want to scare Danny. Besides if he had been a hero even if he clocked Bruce he would understand.

“Hello Danny, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Zatana,” She introduced herself s she followed Bruce in. She would have offered her hand to shake but Danny was half hiding behind Cas sitting on the bed.

“It’s nice to meet you too. What’s with the outfit?” He asked curiously which made her laugh.

“I’m a hero, one of the less known ones. I’m part of Justice League Dark which is their supernatural division along with Constantine and Deadman and a few others. He’s a ghost, but I assure you the government hasn’t been giving him any trouble, probably because they knew they wouldn’t get away with it.”

“So I’m just lucky then,” Danny said with a bitter curl to his lips.

“As a hero, I want to ask, are you Phantom?” She asked rather bluntly.

Bruce shivered as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped a few degrees and Danny’s eyes started to swirl with green as he glared at Zatana who managed to barely react. Batman noticed how her back tensed a bit but it was barely there. “You know?” Danny demanded. “You knew about what was going on in Amity and you didn’t help?!”

“I’m very sorry Danny,” She said genuinely. “We knew something was going on, but we didn’t look closely enough. We thought that you were an older ghost just of someone who died young because of your strength, and it looked like things were under control. Normally our involvement wouldn’t have been appreciated, intruding on someone’s haunt, so we didn’t look any closer. I am so sorry we overlooked you but we’re going to make up for it now I promise.

“I’ve checked and reinforced the wards on the house so nothing should be able to come in uninvited, and I’m going to contact the rest of the JLD. We’re going to go to Amity, we’ll figure this out and deal with it I promise.”

The temperature in the room slowly went back up, Danny was still upset, but he didn’t seem like he was about to snap anymore. While Zatana had been talking Cas had started gently rubbing Danny’s back and that seemed to be helping too. After a moment Danny looked up again and nodded, accepting the help.

“The veil must be very thin there, to let so many ghosts through?” Zatana probed gently.

“It is, but more than that two years ago my parents succeeded in building a portal to what they call the Ghost Zone. This kinda green world of floating islands.

“A portal,” Zatana said flatly, blinking rapidly. “To the Infinite Realms?”

“Ah is that what it’s really called? Ya probably? That’s how everyone’s been getting through. How I got my powers too, the ghosts call me a halfa, but I’m not the only one. Vlad’s one too.”

Batman heard Zatana mutter “Two?” softly, baffled and alarmed but she nodded. Bruce filed that information away too, it seemed Vlad was even more of a threat then he’d first appeared to be.

“Alright, I’ll get as many of the JLD together as I can and we’ll head to Amity. We’ll shut down the portal and deal with this.” She said determinedly.

From the look on Danny’s face he didn’t really believe her, but he nodded again and leaned against Cas. “Good luck I suppose,” he muttered and sighed, rubbing his face.

“Just… tell me if you get in over your heads okay, I’m used to dealing with all this stuff.” God he sounded so tired, the poor kid.

“I will, but don’t worry about us, just take care of yourself okay? This is a good place to be, I promise you won’t have to be alone anymore.” Zatana assured him. She probably had more questions, but it was very obvious that Danny was getting tired.

“Bruce is good dad,” Cas chimed in, speaking up for the first time. It embarrassed Bruce a little but he smiled at them and nodded a little.

“Thank you,” Danny said, his shoulder slumped and his back curled. “Can I go to bed now?”

“Of course Chum,” Bruce agreed, starting to shoo Zatana out of the bedroom with Cas on their heels. When they closed the door behind them Bruce heard the lock click quietly closed behind them. He really hoped that Danny would feel safe enough to sleep well.

@zlinen  @sebas-nights   @littlefeather345  @isnt-that-grape     @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit  @shadowkatt99  @fantasticstoryteller @blackshuckatdusk @blacksea21090  @sithlordchimchnga @fanfictionforme2 @imalittlefangirl25 @bushbees @yotsubaayase @thomasdimensor @ultimatebluff

[amentomensmut]

first time for everything

Drug dealer! Mike Schmidt x fem!reader      wc: 4.2k

read part 2 here!

Summary: You’re a good girl. You’ve never been arrested, you don't drink alcohol, and you certainly don't smoke weed. So why were you standing on Mike Schmidt’s doorstep about to buy the very thing you swore you wouldn’t?

Warnings: 18+ content, sorta implied age gap (reader is in college, mike is like the age he was in the movie so like 28-30ish?), cannabis use, shotgunning, dirty messy sex, praise, degradation, spit, grinding, fingering (f rec), handjob, unprotected sex

Authors note: guys i am SO HAPPY with how this fic turned out, and I really hope u guys like it too!! this fic ended up being my longest so far LOL, i got carried away but i LOVED writing the dialogue in this one

You’re a good girl.

You’ve never been arrested, you don't drink alcohol, and you certainly don't smoke weed.

So why were you standing on Mike Schmidt’s doorstep about to buy the very thing you swore you wouldn’t?

—-------------------

“Y/n, it’s seriously no big deal, okay? My dealer’s name is Mike, he’s cool! Just hand him the money and he’ll give you the weed. Simple.” Your friend Sara says as she throws on her work uniform. You furrow your eyebrows at her words, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sara, I’m not fucking buying weed for you.” You say incredulously, leaning against a wall in your dorm room. Once Sara’s shirt is pulled over her head, she gives you an insulted look.

“It’s not just for me, it's for us! You need to live a little more, Y/n. You haven’t even been to a party on campus yet and it's our third year.” Sara says, emphasising her words with her hands. She brushes her hair, throwing it up into a quick ponytail to make a flat foundation for her ‘Burger King’ cap to lay on top of. 

“Well, that’s because I’m studying. I have a job too!” You say with a roll of your eyes. Of course it’s easy for Sara to judge, she’s always been very extroverted. Sara’s the type of girl who’s well loved by everyone on campus, and goes to a party almost every weekend. You can’t blame her. If you were as outgoing and charismatic as she is, you’d follow in her footsteps. However, you’re not, and making friends and being invited to parties hasn’t been an easy feat for you. 

You and Sara have been roommates since your first year, and although you haven’t always seen eye to eye, you love her. She’s truly one of your only friends on campus, and even though you know it's pathetic, you think you’d be completely friendless if it weren’t for her. She’s the reason you’ve met most of your friends over your time at college, and although you get annoyed at her, you’re thankful for the times she's pushed you out of your shell enough to have some sort of social life. That being said, buying weed for her is where you draw the line. At least, you think it is.

“I study and work too, but I'm not a total hermit.” Sara exclaims. You scoff and cross the room to sit on your bed. You give Sara a defeated look and she lets out a soft laugh, joining you on the bed. 

“Okay, I'll take that back. I don’t think you’re a hermit.” Sara says with a soft smile. She places a caring hand on your back.

“I just think you need to get out a little more, you know? Make some memories, fuck a hot guy, get shit-faced, whatever!” She continues with a laugh. You laugh along with her, and you know she's right. You are a hermit, and it wouldn’t kill you to break out of your shell a little. Even if that means buying weed for your very persistent friend. 

“So, why do you need me to buy you weed?” You inquire.

“Because, I’m going to work. Duh.” Sara says, motioning to her ‘Burger King’ uniform. “And I promised my dealer I’d pick my stuff up today. Apparently afternoons are better for him now because he got some weird job working nights.” She continues and you bite the inside of your cheek. Sara notices your apprehension and she grabs your hand. 

“Listen, don’t think of it as buying weed. Just…think of it as doing a favour for your friend.” She says softly, ducking her head to meet your gaze that is currently fixed on the floor. It’s just weed, you think. Not cocaine, or something like that. 

“And your um, dealer? He’s nice?” You ask, wiping your palms on your jean clad thighs. 

“Yeah, I told you. He’s cool. Dealing is, like, a side thing for him. To make enough money to support his little sister.” Sara says, getting off of the bed to collect her things. She swings her backpack over her shoulder and starts towards the exit of your dorm.

You’re not totally convinced, and you’re also not sure how buying weed for Sara will make you less of a “hermit,” but with a long, dramatic, sigh you nod your head. 

“What’s his address?”

—-----------------------------------

The gust of the cold December wind that hits your face when you exit the city bus makes you recoil into your hood, and with an annoyed huff you set the hair that stuck to your lipgloss from the breeze back into place. 

Mike Schmidt’s place wasn’t far, only a 10 minute bus ride away. However, that was plenty enough time for you to almost completely think yourself out of going. You walk to the address that Sara texted you, the sound of snow crunching under your feet somewhat interrupting your racing thoughts. “Just hand him the money, and he’ll give you the weed.” Sara’s voice replays in your head, and the butterflies in your stomach aren’t sure if her voice is comforting or not.

Mike Schmidt’s house wasn’t one to gawk at, at least from the outside. You start the trek from the end of the driveway to his front door and you wonder how many times Sara has done this before. 

You reach the front door and your cold, dry knuckles rap on it. The cold air makes knocking on the wood hurt more than usual, and you rub your knuckles softly. You hear heavy footsteps making their way from the back of the house to the door, and you let out a big breath. The door opens and you scan the man in front of you. He’s…not what you had expected him to look like. In your naive mind, you had pictured a big, burly man, covered head to toe in tattoos. But, this man looked like he had just woken up, his eyes still adjusting to the light outside. His curly brown hair was slightly dishevelled and he laced a hand through it, attempting to make it look more presentable.

“Can I help you?” His voice comes out slightly gruff, and he clears it softly. 

“Are you the…the drug guy?” You ask in a low whisper, like the title ‘drug guy’ is akin to the name ‘Voldemort’ in ‘Harry Potter.’

“Depends on who you’re asking.” Mike says, leaning against his front door. He gives you a once over with a little smirk and you cross your arms over your chest. 

“I’m asking you.” You say, and it comes out a little harsh, your teeth chattering from the cold. 

“Do you want me to be?” Mike says, and you narrow your eyes at him. His smirk widens and you bite the inside of your cheek, he’s enjoying this. Sara said this would be easy.

“I’m here for Sara.” You say, and Mike nods his head, a soft hum tumbling out of his closed lips.

“Oh, so you’re her druggie friend?” Mike says with a little mischievous smile, although his teasing is lost on you and your jaw drops open in shock.

“What? I, wha-, no!” You stammer and Mike lets out a laugh that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“I’m joking. Come in, you’re freezing.” He says, noting the way you’re shivering on his front door step. He pushes himself off the door frame and motions for you to follow him inside. You hesitantly follow him inside, but your frosty fingers thank you for the new found warmth of his house. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Mike asks, leading you towards the kitchen, you following behind him. You shake your head no, even though he can’t see you.

“I won’t be staying long.” You say bluntly, and even though you can’t see Mike’s face, you swear you can picture the little smile that forms on it with your words. You sit down at the dining table, watching as Mike reaches into the fridge, grabbing a can of soda. The dining table is covered with unopened envelopes and you try your best not to snoop while Mike is in the kitchen. You look up as Mike exits the kitchen with an extra soda in hand, placing it in front of you. 

“Just in case you change your mind.” He says and a small “thank you” leaves your lips. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Mike continues, and you slowly nod your head, watching as he makes his way down the hallway and towards the back of the house. You half pay attention to the turned on television in the living room from your spot at the dining table, partly watching some sitcom that’s been left on while you wait for Mike to return. The house smells like weed and spicy cologne and your leg bounces up and down rapidly as you listen to the sounds of Mike’s footsteps coming back.

“Here.” He says simply, tossing the baggy of weed onto the dining table in front of you. You look down at it, and you crinkle your eyebrows in confusion.

“This is it?” You ask, your eyebrows raised as you hold the baggy between your pointer and middle finger. Mike looks at you with his arms crossed over his chest and that stupid smirk that seems to be permanently painted on his face. 

“This is an eighth.” He answers, like you’re supposed to know what that means.

“It doesn’t look like much.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket to fish out the $40 that Sara gave you. 

“Well, you can always come back if you’d like more.” Mike says in a sickly sweet tone, and now you know he’s teasing you. You roll your eyes and you get up from your chair, holding the dollar bills in your hand.

“Is $40 enough?” You question, and Mike nods his head. He holds his hand out and you place the money in his palm. You turn to leave and you hear Mike’s voice behind you.

“Enjoy.” He says, and you can’t help yourself from turning back around.

“And just for the record, I’ve never smoked weed. So-, so don’t think this is for me. Cause’ it isn’t.” You say, and you wonder why you feel the need to explain yourself to this man that you met only fifteen minutes ago. Your eyes squint at the man as he lets out a laugh at your words.

“Trust me, I know.” He says, and you watch as he takes a sip of his soda, never breaking eye contact with you.

“How? I’m literally buying weed from you.” You say, your tone somewhat annoyed. Does everyone think you’re a buzzkill? A hermit? Is it written permanently on your forehead in big, bold, marker that you’re a ‘drag’ for everyone to see?

“I can just tell. You don’t seem like the type.” Mike says with a sort of shrug. You stand there with what can only be described as a defeated look on your face as Mike makes his way over to the living room. He sits on the couch, changing the channel to some sports game. It’s silent for a moment, save for the sound coming from the tv, and you stand in the front corridor motionless as you have a mental battle over what you decide to say next. 

“...Can you show me?” 

You watch as Mike turns his head, looking back at you from the couch. 

“You want to get high?” He asks, and he sounds genuinely surprised. You walk over to the couch, moving to stand in front of Mike. He looks up at you with a quizzical look on his face, his eyes dancing around from your lips, to your eyes and nose. You nod your head and you watch as he swallows slowly, drumming his fingers on his knee. 

“I want to try.” You say, and you’re not sure where this new found confidence has come from, but you’re not going to back down now. Maybe when you get back to your dorm and smoke with Sara, you can surprise her by showing her it isn’t your first time getting high. 

“Alright.” Mike says, putting both of his hands on his knees and pushing himself off of the couch. You watch him walk over to a console table in the living room, pulling out a little baggy of pre-rolled joints. He grabs a joint and a lighter and walks back over to the couch, patting the spot beside him, motioning for you to sit. 

“Have you ever smoked at all before? Like, a cigarette or something?” Mike asks softly and you shake your head. You were never really interested in smoking or getting high, even when your friends had started to do those things. You’re not really sure where that interest is coming from now, although you feel a strange need to change Mike’s impression of you. To be the opposite of what he expects. To impress him.

“Okay so, the first few hits might burn a little. And you’re probably going to cough so it’s a good thing I got you that soda.” He says, walking over to the dining table to grab the soda that you left unopened, and handing it to you as he sits back down on the couch. You watch as Mike fiddles with the joint between his fingers and you look up at him.

“Is there any way to make it burn less?” You ask genuinely, and Mike smiles at you, relaxing back on the couch and slightly spreading his legs. 

“I mean, there is. But I’m not sure if you’d want to try it.” Mike says, resting his head against the back of the couch and looking over at you. You look over at the joint resting between Mike fingers and back to Mike. 

“Let’s do it.” You say with almost no hesitation. 

“Alright.” Mike says nonchalantly. “It’s called shotgunning. I’m going to take a hit, and then blow the smoke into your mouth. So you have to be ready for me, okay?” He continues, putting the joint between his lips and lighting it. You watch as he inhales the smoke and then blows it back out, the smoke exiting his body through his mouth and nose. He licks his lips and looks back over to you for confirmation. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You say with a nervous laugh that you try to play off. Mike takes another hit, and you watch as his chest rises with the smoke entering his mouth and lungs. All of a sudden, he’s grabbing your jaw with his hand and bringing you towards him. He opens your mouth with his thumb tugging at your lower lip and chin, and he’s blowing the smoke into your mouth. He’s so close, and this feels so intimate in a way that you try not to think about.

“Told you to be ready for me.” He mumbles as he pulls away from you, his thumb and forefinger still resting on your chin. You inhale the smoke, coughing a little but not nearly as bad as if you have taken a direct hit from the joint. The weed doesn’t taste great, and you crack open your soda to wash the taste and your semi dry throat down. 

“Well, you could’ve given me, like, a countdown or something.” You mutter and Mike gives a genuine laugh at that. He shakes his head at you, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed already starting to hit but you but you stare a little too long at the way his lips turn into that charming smile. 

“I can’t give you a countdown if I have smoke in my mouth, smartass.” You roll your eyes at his words but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. You shuffle a little closer to Mike, your knee hitting his. 

“Well, whatever. Can we go again?” You ask, looking up at him. He nods with a hum, putting the joint to his lips and inhaling. You’re ready this time, lips parted as you watch the way his eyes flutter as the smoke fills his mouth. He turns to you, once again grabbing your jaw, and blowing the smoke into your mouth. His lips brush your own and before you can stop it, you let out a soft moan. Mike pulls away from you slightly, looking at you with a lazy smirk. He moves his hand from your jaw to your cheek, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumb.

“Someone’s enjoying this, aren’t they?” Mike says, his tone sweet but you know that he’s mocking you. His eyes bore into yours and you can’t find it in yourself to look at him, your eyes fixating on your lap. 

“Look at me.” He says, and you do. 

“Do you want to try one more time?” He asks, and you nod. Like the last two times, he takes a hit, bringing his mouth close to yours once the smoke invades his mouth. However, as he’s blowing the smoke into your mouth, he only seems to get closer with every passing second. His lips brush against yours hesitantly but you respond by leaning closer into him. The gap is closed and his lips are soft, and the room is spinning. You know the weed is probably a contributing factor but, god, this feels so good. 

Mike cups your face in his hands, cradling you like a piece of fine china. He bites your bottom lip, causing you to part your lips so he can slip his tongue inside your mouth. The kiss is needy and wet, but you don’t care. The only thing you can think about is how good his tongue feels caressing your own, and how the hand that was once on your jaw, is slowly trailing up your thigh. 

Mike pulls you onto his lap, pressing you down onto him and you let out a gentle whine. He breaks the kiss to look at you and your eyes divert to the place where both your laps are connected. 

“Don’t get shy on me, baby. C’mon look at me.” Mike says. You look up at him, starry eyed, and his gentle eyes are already on you. His hair is messy, his lips are swollen, and he definitely looks high. 

“There you go.” He says, praising you. “This okay?” 

“Yes. I want more.” You whimper, your hips softly grinding down on Mike. The weed is heightening all your senses, and your pussy is throbbing. You can’t think of anything else right now except reliving the ache between your thighs, and Mike looks more than happy to do that for you. He bucks his hips up as you grind on him, and you can feel his erection through his sweatpants. His hands have a strong hold on your hips, pulling you down onto him. 

“Mike, fuck.” You choke out. You two are grinding on each other like a pair of horny teenagers, but neither of you care. You two kiss each other messily, and when you pull away, a string of spit connects your lips. 

“Take off your jeans.” He simply says, and you couldn’t be happier to oblige. You wriggle off his lap, standing in front of Mike to take your jeans off. You can feel his heavy-lidded gaze on you with every one of your movements, and as soon as your jeans are off, he’s pulling you back onto his lap. 

His calloused hands are everywhere. On your hips, your ass, your inner thighs. He presses sweet kisses on your neck, sucking and licking on the places you’re the most responsive to. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, making him groan. 

“Can I touch you?” Mike asks, and you let out a quick “please.”

One of his hands trails up your inner thigh, reaching the wet spot on your panties. 

“Christ, you’re soaked.” He says, and you let out a shaky breath as he starts to rub you over your panties. You buck your hips into his fingers, silently begging for more. He pulls your underwear to the side, running his middle and ring finger up your wet cunt. His fingers find your clit immediately, rubbing lazy circles. You reach down to palm Mike's bulge through his sweatpants and in response, he sinks two fingers inside of you. 

“Fuck, you’re taking it so well.” He moans, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You clench around him, and the television in the background is now being drowned out by the sound of your pussy squelching around Mike’s thick fingers. The palm of his hand hits your swollen clit perfectly every time he moves his fingers in you, and you rest your head on Mike’s shoulder. 

“You know, you act all innocent, but you’re not really a good girl, are you?” Mike grunts in your ear. He adds a third finger and your legs clench around his hand from the stimulation. Your hand has now ventured inside his sweats and boxers, and you pull his dick out from the confines of his clothes. His cock is so hard, with pre cum steadily leaking from the tip. You spit in your hand and then bring it back to his dick, stroking him from the base to the tip. You massage his tip with your thumb and Mike lets out a whine.

“Y-you know what I think? I think you’re a- fuck, I think you’re a slut whose finally getting the attention she needs.” Mike grits out, and with his fingers curling in and out of you reaching a spot your own fingers have never been able to reach, you think you’d agree to anything he says. 

“Mike, I think I’m gonna-” You start to say, your legs shaking from your oncoming orgasm. But as soon as the words leave your lips, Mike removes his fingers from you.

“I wanna feel you cum around me, okay? Can you do that?” Mike says softly, and you eagerly agree. With your panties pulled to the side, Mike teases you with his dick, rubbing it up and down your pussy. He catches it on your clit every so often, making you jolt. Mike’s cock is glistening with a mix of your wetness and his own, and you decided to take matters into your own hands, grabbing Mike’s dick and guiding it into your pussy. You both moan out simultaneously, and the feeling of being full again makes you throw your head back in ecstasy. 

Mike lifts you up, so the tip of his cock is barely in you, before slamming you back down onto him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, and you watch as the muscles in Mike’s arms flex everytime he lifts you up and slams you back down. His cock is reaching so deep, and being high only makes it feel that much better. 

“Fuck, your pussy is fucking perfect.” Mike whines, and he drops his head, letting some of his spit dribble down to where the two of you are connected. Mike brings his hand down to your puffy clit, rubbing fast circles. You let out a sob, lacing your hands through Mike’s hair and pulling him towards you to kiss him. Your moans are muffled into the kiss, and Mike slaps your ass, making you cry out. 

“C’mon, baby. You wanna be a good girl? Then cum for me.” Mike says, rubbing your clit faster and fucking up into you harder. Your cunt spasms around Mike as you cum, your legs shaking and for a second you swear you can’t feel anything except for the sheer euphoria making it’s way through your body. You drop your head on Mike’s chest as he cums inside you, and his grip on your hips is so tight it would hurt if you weren’t so fucked out right now. 

Mike’s soft voice is what coaxes you out of your bliss, and with his fingers running through your hair you think you could fall asleep right here on his lap with him inside of you. 

“Hey, you’re okay. You were so good, baby, but I need to get you cleaned up.” Mike says sweetly in your ear, and you slowly nod your head. You let Mike take you off of his lap and place you onto the couch, his release running down your legs. You watch as Mike tucks himself back into his pants and walks down the hallway towards the bathroom. You suddenly hear your cell phone ringing, and you reach down from the couch to fish it out of the pocket of your jeans on the floor. 

“Hello?” You say in your dazed state.

“Y/n? Did you get the weed? You were supposed to be back like an hour ago?” You hear Sara say on the other line, her tone laced with worry.

“Um, yeah. I got the weed.” You say, deciding that for now,  you should probably keep it a secret from your best friend that you fucked her dealer. 

taglist: @slutf0rmilfs, @angie-likes-to-art

[iovetecchou]

What’s Your Motive? ⧸ Wriothesley.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Summary: Wriothesley is fed up with you constantly getting arrested for petty crimes. It's like you're trying to get locked up just to annoy him. Perhaps a different form of punishment for your crimes is in order.

༞ Contains...! smut, hatefucking, use of handcuffs, fucking through the jail cell bars, no prep, degradation, name calling (runt, cumslut), one use of "good girl", reader refers to Wriothesley as 'mister', cumshot, facial, subtle fluff because i am insane

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 1.920 words.

kinktober masterlist!

"I told you not to break the law. More than once." 

Wriothesley deadpanned. His grip around your hand was tight as he took your fingerprints. You could tell he was concealing his rage, but the tremors coming from his large palm were a dead giveaway. 

"Aww! Not happy to see me again, mister?" You snickered, purposefully making the process more difficult for Wriothesley. You kept smudging your prints; he had to start over twice already. There was no way in hell he was putting up with your shit tonight. He was stressed, and your constant reappearances here only added to the dogpile of dread. 

"Guards, finish booking this runt. I need to make myself a cup of tea before I lose my mind." That last statement was more of a whisper to himself. But you were amused by it, regardless. 

"Who you callin' a runt, huh?" You gasped in faux disdain, bumping shoulders with him as you feigned offense because of his little nickname for you. Wriothesley's large palm squeezed over yours once more as a warning before he walked off. 

You clicked your tongue as you watched him walk away. You hated to see him go, but you loved to watch him leave. 

Wriothesley wanted to gouge his eyes out as he heard you whistle while he descended the dark hallway. He knew you were directing the catcall at him and him alone. Every time you came to Wriothesley's precinct, you sought him out. He didn't understand your strange requests to be detained by him each time, and quite frankly, he didn't care. 

But you both have been doing this little song and dance for months. You would get arrested for a minor crime, taken into custody for a few days, be released and repeat every few weeks. They were all petty crimes, proof enough to Wriothesley that you were committing them with ulterior motives. 

Wriothesley had the graveyard shift tonight, which meant lots and lots of tea was in order to keep him functioning, especially now that you were back under his watch. 

He was monitoring the security cameras as he sipped his favorite stress relief tea blend, nearly dropping his cup when he noticed you attempting to escape from your cell. Wriothesley sighed deeply, clenching his jaw as he shot up from his desk. Wasting no time, he made quick strides toward your section. 

On his stride there, Wriothesley's anger toward you bubbled up from deep within. Each passing step caused him to become more and more agitated. He recounted all of the encounters you both had over the months. He didn't understand you in the slightest, and that just enraged him even further. What was your motive? 

"Hey, runt. You seriously didn't think this pathetic attempt would work, right?" Your smirk grew tenfold from the sound of his voice. 

"Nope, just needed an excuse to get ya down here!" You giggled, tilting your head up to meet his icy gaze. 

Oh... he looked furious. Good.

He glared at you from beyond the bars, eyebrows ticked up in annoyance as he captured his cuffs. Wriothesley swirled them around his index finger before seizing them tightly. "Turn around and stick your hands out, now." 

"Aww, but you only just got here! I wanted to admire your pretty face for a little lo—"

"Now."

His stern voice sent chills down your spine in the best way possible. You finally got him to break.

You followed his orders. Turning your back toward Wriothesley, leaning your back against the cool metal bars. You extended your arms behind you, letting them slip through the spaces of the metal cell. 

Before you could question him further, Wriothesley cuffed your hands. Trapping you against the metal bars of your enclosure. You tugged against your restraints, tilting your head back and getting a glimpse of Wriothesley. 

"Care to tell me what this is about, mister? Doesn't seem like protocol to me." You quipped, shooting a playful wink at Wriothesley. All of your sass was knocked out of you the moment he slotted himself against the bars. You could faintly feel the warmth radiating from his chest as his hands slipped past the metal poles. 

"Keep fucking quiet, runt. There are other prisoners and guards here, you know. The world does not revolve around you." Wriothesley spat. Wasting no time tugging your flimsy pants and panties down your legs in one harsh tug. 

Heat rushed through your core as the cool air hit your exposed lower half. 

This was really happening? Fucking finally. 

"Oh, I really got your panties in a twist this time huh, mister?" You pressed your ass further into the cell, trying your hardest to feel him closer. Your smirk only grew when you heard Wriothesley fumbling with his belt. 

"I said, be quiet," Wriothesley whispered. You could feel his breath fanning over the tip of your ear as his hand crawled back through to grasp your hip. He hastily pulled his cock out of his confinements, slipping it through the cell bars. You choked on a whine as you felt the blunt head of his cock run through your folds. 

"Oh? Now you got nothing to say? Who knew all you needed was some dick to put you in line." Wriothesley spat, cursing under his breath as he gathered your slick. "You're so fucking wet, too. What, don't tell me this was your plan all along? Such a filthy fucking runt."

A choked moan slipped past your lips as his cock pushed past the tight ring of your pussy. Wriothesley quickly slipped his other hand through the cell bars, slotting his large palm over your mouth. "Shut the fuck up." He mumbled against the shell of your ear, slamming his cock inside you to the hilt. 

Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he filled you to the brim with his length. You could feel his thick cock pulsing inside you, his balls twitching from where they kissed the underside of your pussy. You had dreamt of this moment only a thousand times over, but the real thing exceeded your expectations. 

Wriothesley wasted no time pounding into you relentlessly, barely giving you a moment to adjust. You drooled all over his fingers and gloves as your shameless whimpers and whines slipped out. However, the more you cried out in pleasure, the harder he fucked you. 

"This pussy is so greedy, fuck." Wriothesley cursed, clenching his jaw tightly as he pulled your hips harshly to meet his thrusts. Your arms strained from the uncomfortable position they were in. But you couldn't care less. The feeling of Wriothesley's cock prodding your sweet spot overpowered that dull ache in your cuffed wrists. 

You desperately longed to see the look of pleasure twisted on Wriothesley's face as he fucked you. But his deep grunts and groans of pleasure against your ear were mind-numbing enough. 

You hardly tried to conceal your mewls of pleasure, too cock drunk to care if someone were to overhear. "If you don't shut that dirty fucking mouth of yours, you'll regret it." Wriothesley huffed, clamping his hand even tighter around your mouth. His thrusts were brutal. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the rattling of the steel rods echoed through the dark halls. 

Quite ironic. Considering Wriothesley was the one telling you to be quiet. 

If he wanted you to be quiet, then so be it. Your teeth sunk into the back of his fingertips, pulling a loud hiss from Wriothesley's lips. He chuckled deeply. Breath tickling the side of your face as his pace only quickened. The tip of his cock was nudging your cervix with each deep thrust. 

"Good," He paused, grounding his hips into your ass as deep as he could through the bars. 

"Fucking," Wriothesley pulled his hips back, tip nearly slipping out of your hot wet heat if it wasn't for the tight grip your gummy walls had on him. 

"Girl." He slammed himself all the way back in with a loud, wet squelch. Wriothesley calling you a good girl, paired with the feeling of his cock rubbing against your g-spot was too much to bear. 

You gushed around his cock as the coil within you snapped. Your teeth sunk into the rough material of his gloves as you came. Your pussy clenched and pulsed around his length as you struggled to stay up on your shaky legs. 

Wriothesley cursed under his breath. Quickly, he pulled himself out of your tight, wet heat. He swiftly undid the lock on your cuffs. You collapsed to your knees, instinctively pulling your hands back through the bars. You nursed your wrists, cradling them to your chest as your legs trembled.

"Look at me," Wriothesley demanded breathlessly. You slowly turned on your knees, eyes widening as you faced him. He was fisting his cock furiously, a wild blush coating his cheeks as his icy orbs locked onto you. You felt your pussy throb once more from the sight alone, bringing your hands up through the bars— desperately trying to replace his hand with yours. 

Wriothesley swatted your hand away before ordering, "Stick your tongue out for me, runt." 

Without hesitancy, your jaw fell slack. Your tongue darted out almost instantly as you drank in his blissed-out expression. Without warning, Wriothesley brought his dick only centimeters away from your lips. A deep groan slipped past his mouth as his first ropes of cum shot past his slit. 

You admired his pretty face as Wriothesley came all over yours. You swallowed every last drop of his cum that landed on your tongue, allowing the ropes that missed your mouth to roll down your cheeks. 

Wriothesley grunted as he shot the last of his load onto your face. He admired your filthy state for a few beats more. A smirk cascaded across his face before he let out a whistle of his own, mimicking your actions from earlier. 

"Wow... guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that you're a filthy cumslut on top of all your other crimes." Wriothesley deadpanned, leisurely tucking his now softening cock back into his pants.

"Oh, so now it's a crime to want to fuck you?" You chuckled, swiping some of his cum off your cheek before placing the pad of your thumb in your mouth. Licking it entirely clean. 

Wriothesley flushed, averting his gaze from your lewd display. He stifled a cough before muttering, "No, but I'm sure you and I just committed about a dozen crimes. Indecent exposure, public indecency, disorderly conduct— shall I continue?" 

"You do realize you just said we right, mister? Meaning you should be in this cell right alongside me. Come on, handsome, why don't you keep me warm tonight? You can come inside me this ti—"

"In your dreams, runt. Consider this your punishment for causing me hell for months. I won't give you what you want just because you're cute."  

Your cheeks flushed as you stood on shaky legs, coming face to face with him. "You think I'm cute?" You asked earnestly, a genuine smile pulling at your lips. 

Wriothesley turned on his heel, trying to conceal his embarrassment from slipping up and calling you cute. He stifled a cough, making slow strides down the hallway. You assumed he was going to keep walking without another word, and just as you began pulling your pants back up your trembling legs, you heard him shout, 

"Yeah, I do, so stop breaking the law. Then maybe I can take you on a proper date."

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel is secretly in love with Tommy’s girlfriend and comforts her while his brother is in jail.]

God, Joel didn’t know what the hell you saw in his brother or more so how the hell Tommy could get a woman like yourself.

Angst fluff protective Joel

Note: story inspired by @dancingtotuyo High Infidelity Series!

Eleven o’clock at night and here you were standing in front of Joel’s front door. Calling his cell with tears in your eyes hoping he would still be awake when thankfully the sound of his voice appeared on the other end.

“Hello”

“Joel? It’s me-“

“What’s wrong? Everything alright?”

“I um- I’m at your front door. I know it’s late but-“ before you could finish your sentence Joel quickly unlocked the door with a look of concern although he already knew why you were there.

“I’m sorry” you hung up your phone as you tried to explain what was going on.

“Tommy got arrested again and they’re not letting him go and-“

“Why didn’t cha call me? It’s late, I woulda gone to get you” he led you inside as you shook your head.

“I know Sarah’s asleep and he didn’t want me to tell you but I didn’t know what else to do” you sighed as you brushed your hands through your hair.

“The hell he do now?” Joel was growing tired of seeing how upset his brother was constantly making you. Every month there was something new that got him in trouble with the law yet he never seemed to learn a lesson.

“He got into a fight and used a knife and-“ you covered your face hiding your tears.

“The guys in the hospital but in critical condition and he’s just out of control-“ you began to hyperventilate.

“Alright, alright take a deep breath. Here take a seat” he grabbed a chair beside him quickly placing it next to you. Wiping your tears away you sat down as Joel sat in front of you leaning forward.

“Hey, look at me” unexpectedly Joel grabbed your hand, his deeps eyes giving you some kind of sense of peace.

“He’s gonna come out like he always does and everything’s gonna be fine, ya hear me? And the second he’s out, I’m gonna beat his ass” Joel tried to get you to laugh, a half a smile appearing on your lips.

“There she is” he whispered, a twinkle in his eyes as he looked into yours.

God, Joel didn’t know what the hell you saw in his brother or more so how the hell Tommy could get a woman like yourself. You seemed to be the complete opposite of him, while he was the trouble making hothead, you were shy, sweet and just trying to get him on the right path.

“I’m gonna call the sitter and you just sit tight, we’ll get goin’ in a few”

“But Tommy didn’t want you to know, he’s gonna get upset with me”

“Listen sugar,” Joel still held your hand in his.

“What Tommy says don’t go when his woman is out alone late at night tryin’ to fix things for him. Don’t worry, I’ll take the heat” he winked at you before getting up and calling Sarah’s babysitter.

The ride to the station had you on edge, reality not exactly feeling like reality in that moment. Tommy knew you were twelve weeks pregnant, yet it didn’t feel like he was taking it seriously. A wave of nausea hitting you making you quickly roll down the window causing Joel to look over at you.

“You alright?”

“Yes” you took a deep breath, you were far from alright.

Once arriving you sat down at a table while Joel stood behind you when Tommy was led into the room. The first sight of Joel and you knew Tommy was pissed, you didn’t even have a chance to defend yourself.

“Tommy-“

“God dammit, I ask you not to do one fucking thing-“

“Tommy she was worried” Joel quickly defended you.

“Besides, you expected her to travel all this way at this time alone? You should know better than that, brother” Tommy looked at you, a glimpse of remorse as he noticed just how upset you were.

“Tommy, this needs to stop” you whispered.

“Look, the guy came at me first-“

“You promised me there would be no more of this” you tried not to cry as Joel silently watched.

“Well I’ll be out of here soon and things will be better-“

“You’re not going anywhere, Miller” a cop walked in through the door with a paper in his hand.

“The man you stabbed just died, you’re looking at a manslaughter charge” you gasped placing your hands on your lips.

“Oh god” you stood up feeling queasy all over again, cold sweats rushing through your body.

“It was self defense!” Tommy yelled angrily as you felt your world spinning.

“God dammit, Tommy” you unexpectedly yelled slamming your hand on the table.

“The hell was I suppose to do?! Be a sucker?!” Tommy yelled back making you almost throw yourself at him until Joel caught you with an arm around your waist pulling you back.

“You selfish prick!” You screamed.

“Oh I’m selfish?! Am I really? Or is it you?!”

Once again angrily you threw a paper at him as Joel pulled you back again. The nerve of him to say all these things knowing the chaos he has caused.

“Go wait in the car” he whispered as Tommy continued to yell angrily.

“Go” Joel repeated before you finally walked out the door crying.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Joel snapped at him once you left.

“Oh please Joel, don’t give me this crap now”

“You got this woman constantly worried about you, tryin’ to help you!” Joel was angry and his brother could see it.

“Yeah well she don’t have to” Tommy shrugged stubbornly.

“She damn well shouldn’t, you sure as hell don’t deserve it” Joel spoke low before walking out leaving Tommy to think over his actions…or at least hoping he would.

Silently getting in the car Joel reached over placing his hand on your thigh. He didn’t have the words but he knew that look, you were fed up. Joel had seen his brother push away many women but with you it was different.

There was silence for some time, you leaned your head on the window as Joel took a deep breath.

“Im sorry my brother can be such an ass sometimes” as he spoke another wave of nausea hitting you, this time worse than before.

“Joel stop the car” you covered your lips with your hand quickly opening the door the second he stopped and ran to the grass.

“Shit” Joel whispered before rushing out beside you. Leaning forward you felt Joel grab your hair out of your face as you struggled to let anything out.

“You alright?” You slowly stood up straight and nodded, wiping your lips with a paper you had.

“Been a rough night” Joel continued, figuring that’s what made you sick before you shook your head.

“Joel….” You sighed figuring you should tell him the truth.

“I’m pregnant” you whispered without looking his way. He stood still for a moment looking at you in disbelief. Joel didn’t understand why in that moment he felt as if he had been punched in the gut.

“Does he know?” He asked low. You quietly nodded.

“God dammit Tommy” Joel whispered looking away, the fact that his brother knew you were pregnant and still let himself get into more trouble pissed him off.

“So he knew this and he asked you to travel here alone this late” Joel shook his head.

“We should get back, incase Sarah wakes up wondering where you are” you walked to the passenger seat not realizing Joel was behind you as you climbed in making sure you could get in safely until you sat down and noticed him beside you.

“I’m ok, Joel. Really” you smiled before he nodded and closed the door. Tommy wasn’t a bad man, but there were many differences in the two. Tommy had his ways of being a gentleman when you least expected it but for Joel, it was an automatic thing without thinking, even more so now knowing you were pregnant. You could already feel the difference in his actions around you the second he found out that you were pregnant. You wished Tommy had been this way with you.

“How far long are you?” Joel asked with his eyes on the road.

“I’m about to be thirteen weeks” your voice cracked making Joel look over at you to find you with tears looking down at your lap.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. You ain’t alone in this, you’re family” you appreciated Joels words but the truth hurt too much to ignore.

“Tommy..Tommy didn’t want this…..that’s why I’m the selfish one like he said in there” you wiped away a tear.

“I’m selfish because I want to keep the baby”

Joel frowned looking ahead as his hand tightened on the steering wheel. If his brother was in his face right now it would be Tommy’s face that would be dealing with his tightened fist. Tommy was so lost in his ways he had no idea how lucky he was to have a woman like yourself, how lucky he was to have you as a mother to his child. Tommy took you for granted and this only pissed off Joel. You looked over and noticed him lost in thought, his jaw clenched, you wondered what he was thinking.

“Seems like he’s the selfish one, ain’t he” he uttered low as you looked straight ahead.

“I have an appointment tomorrow-“ Joel quickly looked at you.

“You got someone who could go with you?”

“It was suppose to be Tommy, but of course-“

“I’ll go with ya”

“Joel no, you don’t have to. You have your own life and-“

“Give me a time and I’ll figure it out” you sighed knowing Joel wouldn’t give up, must’ve been a Miller thing.

“It’s at ten in the morning”

“Alright, I’ll pick you up at 9:30 and we go”

You had to admit, having company for this was definitely something you needed, you were now less anxious about the whole thing.

You hadn’t properly slept in days and you could feel your eyes growing heavy, before you knew it you had drifted off to sleep as Joel continued to drive.

“How ya feelin’?” He suddenly asked before looking over and realizing you had fallen asleep. Although he was supposed to drive you home the thought of you alone this upset didn’t sit well with him.

Once arriving to his house Joel carefully carried you out of the car, your head laying against his neck as he carefully made his way in.

“Mr.Miller” the sitter stood up rushing to help him with the door as he came in.

“You go on home, I got it from here. Thank you for coming on such short notice” Joel gave her a nod before walking towards his bedroom.

Gently he lay you down on his bed, your shoes slowly taken off before he slid your legs under the blanket. For just a moment you seemed so peaceful, a soft moan coming from you as you turned your head the opposite way.

“Tommy?” You whispered half asleep.

“Tommy, come to bed” you reached out for his hand as Joel took hold of it and very carefully lay down on the edge of the bed. Moving closer to Joel you lay your hand on his chest and took a deep breath as he delicately placed his hand over yours.

“I love you, Tommy”

Joel swallowed hard, his hand gently brushing hair out of your face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead…for just a moment Joel felt like you were his..

[canobugs]

imagine like a true crime documentary on percy jackson like

"so this kid and his mom just disappeared one night, car crashed, blood on the scene no bodies"

"oh my god"

"his stepfather believed he was responsible for the whole thing. mind you this kid was TWELEVE"

"that sounds nuts honestly"

"right? so this kid and his mom go missing, step-dad blames him. kid turns up near New Jersey and a bus explodes."

"shut the fuck up? do they have photos of it?"

"yeah, so a tourist snapped his photo because he recognized him from the missing person's report. by the way, this kid's rap sheet is... it's insane. six schools six years. he was expelled the day of the disappearance."

"seriously?!"

"Yeah, I reached out to the school, but they had no further comment. so 5 shows up AGAIN, saint Louis Arch, another explosion. he FELL from the top of the arch."

"how the fuck did he survive that, what the hell?"

"I have no idea, but a family of three saw him jump from the top into the Mississippi."

"That’s insane."

"It gets more insane; so he shows up on a beach near Los Angeles, right after those major earthquakes? He and the two kids he was traveling with, I forgot to mention there are two other children in this story, but their identities have never been revealed."

"That is wild."

"Yeah! The Coast Guard drops them off because they were just... in the ocean."

"How on earth would three kids get there?"

"Some theories are they got swept out when the earthquake hit, they managed to cling to a buoy and wait for rescue."

"They were that far out?"

"Apperently!! So anyway, they get onto the beach. This dude in a trench coat starts blasting at them with a shotgun."

"Jesus Christ."

"And this kid somehow gets another gun, and they just have a shoot out on the beach."

"holy shit."

"Holy shit is right. The big guy manages to hit an exposed gas line from the earthquake, explodes like three cop cars, and by some miracle, no casualties."

"That is so lucky."

"YEAh! So it was determined that this dude orchestrated the whole thing! He was seen by waitresses in Denver outside of a diner, THREATENING all three kids."

"Really? fuck this guy that kid is a hero."

"He really is."

"So did they ever arrest him?"

"That’s what's so fucked up. They never found him."

"Are you effing kidding me?"

"Thatwhat I said when I read that like? Hello? big dude with a gun kidnapped 4 people. but that isn't the most confusing part of the story."

"Really?"

"So far, I haven't mentioned his mother and Step-father again. She turns up in their apartment."

"Just turns up?"

"She just turns up. but you know what? the step-father is reported missing."

"no fucking way dude"

"yes! and we still don't know what happened to him to this day."

【This podcast is sponsored by Monster Donut online delivery! watch to the end to get our discount code for 40% off of any monster donut purchase!】

honestly I would listen to it.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Kafkaesque

Summary: On the flight back home, Spencer and Reader exchange books to read, and Spencer is surprised by your selection.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Funny, fluff-ish

Content warnings: Franz Kafka (i like him but whatever)

Word count: 1k

The team is on the jet heading back to Quantico after yet another successful case was solved. The tensions of a stressful arrest started to quell as only clusters of city light started to become their only view for the rest of the flight. Morgan has already passed out listening to music, taking up two seats for himself, while Hotch, Emily, Rossi, and J.J. stay occupied by playing poker. Their banter filled the cabin along with the sound of shuffling cards, and actual chips were exchanged instead of poker chips.

You and Spencer, on the other hand, decided this was the perfect time for reading. You had been discussing the idea of exchanging books to get each other’s opinion, since you two are the only consistent readers among your colleagues (and also because Spencer’s banned from playing poker for cheating (again)).

You only briefly got to start each other’s selection before landing, but now there was plenty of time to cross some of the short stories of Sherlock Holmes off your TBR. Considering you were reading in the same space, you expected this to be more of a challenge. Because Spencer is a fast reader. A notoriously fast reader. To the point where Hotch has prevented him from reading while questioning witnesses. The speed at which he combs through books knocks off their focus. You’ve seen it yourself, so much that it’s not as funny as it was when you started here.

Nevertheless, you explore the world of Sherlock Holmes. As you turned the pages, you marveled at the intricacies of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s storytelling. The deductive prowess of Holmes and the vivid depiction of Victorian London transport you to another time and place. Andrew Scott’s charismatic portrayal of Moriarty in the TV adaptation flickered through your mind, though you wisely kept that observation to yourself. Last time, Spencer gave a passionate lecture on the discrepancies between books and television adaptations, citing difference in attention spans, and you had no desire to open that can of worms again.

Amid the familiar hushed ambiance of the cabin, you felt a familiar sensation—the piercing gaze of someone fixated on you. It was a feeling you had grown accustomed to, whether it was the malevolent eyes of criminals from afar of the intense scrutiny across an interrogation table. You tore your attention away from the pages of your book to meet Spencer’s eyes. His expression was contemplative, yet he was less than a third through the book.

“Wanna trade already?” You asked, breaking the silence.

“No, no,” Spencer replied, his lips pursed as he continued to study you.

You raised a brow. “Any questions I could answer?”

“How did you come across him?” He held up your book, “The Complete Short Stories” by Franz Kafka.

“Oh,” you shrugged, “just those angsty high school years, you know?”

Spencer’s nose wrinkled at that. No, he, in fact, did not know what you meant. Because he wasn’t old enough to have angsty high school years. And if he did have any at all, they would have been during college—neither period of his life he cared to recall.

“You’ve seriously never picked up Franz Kafka?” You asked him. “You? Spencer Reid? The equivalent of a human encyclopedia?”

“Only some of his short stories were used for college lectures.”

“Okay.” You feigned a laugh. “So what’s the problem?”

“What was your childhood like, Y/N?”

Your face widened in shock before a sly smirk emerged. “Are you seriously profiling me because of my favorite author? That’s absurd!” The urge to playfully smack him surfaced, but the goodness of your heart made you resist (also because this isn’t your book you’re holding). “Kafka enthusiasts come in all forms, you know. Like everybody else.”

“He’s your favorite author?” Spencer chuckled, still very surprised.

You nodded. “And what about it?”

“You’re just so… happy all the time.”

You cocked your head to the side. A small laugh slipped out as you said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Dr. Reid. Should I have brought ‘The Adventures of Strawberry Shortcake’ to help maintain your image of me?”

“No! I mean…” Your shared laughter briefly interrupted his train of thought. “It’s just not what I expected from you.”

“Hm.” You settled back in your seat, opening the book to where your thumb rested between the pages. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” You’re ready to get back to reading, but you still look at Spencer.

His eyes sparkled, and the curiosity of something becoming more complex than intended makes his brain run for miles. “Perhaps I don’t.”

As the jet continued its steady course back to Quantico, you and Spencer settled into cozy companionship, growing more familiar with each trip. The ambiance remained peaceful, with the faint hum of the engines serving as soothing background noise for your literary exploration.

You find yourself engrossed in the world of Sherlock Holmes once more, relishing in the intricate puzzles and razor-sharp deductions. Andrew Scott continued to dance in your mind from time to time, a testament to the power of well-crafted adaptations (excluding season four. You never told Spencer there was a fourth season).

You were also increasingly aware of Spencer’s presence beside you. Instead of the prickling sensation of having eyes on you, his knee brushed lightly against yours, sending tingles through your body, along with zero doubt it was accidental, considering this guy hesitates to shake hands. He still took the time to look at you after some moments of reading, as if he were deducing what certain Kafka works in that book could mean to you exactly. He flipped through the pages—actually reading—like he would find the answers.

You heard him swallow. “So, uh, why is he a roach in this one?”

“Because that’s how he feels.” You knocked your knee against him this time. “Just keep reading, Spencer. We’ll discuss it after.”

You watched him bite his lips closed as he tried to suppress a smile.

[melancholyhigh]

RECKLESS.

ft. rookie!leon x lieutenant!reader

synopsis. after leon was careless on a mission, you ask him to pay you a visit to your office.

content. 3.0k words. smut. age gap, power imbalance, delulu leon, subby leon, masturbation, praise kink, office sex, handjob, blowjob, edging, dacryphilia.

note. mb guys, i'll post dilf leon a little later. sub leon is my favourite leon.

masterlist. i love feedback! :3

Tough love. That’s what Leon liked to call it when you’re scolding him. He’s got sympathetic looks from his coworkers each time you drag him away to chastise him, but he doesn’t take it to heart — you want the best for him.

They always say how he ‘gets it worse,’ and they don’t understand how he takes it. But it’s different when you reprimand him in comparison to his colleagues. You pull him aside to lecture him, never in the presence of others. It’s so much more intimate. Unlike his fellow officers, where you nearly publicly humiliate them, he gets special treatment.

Leon likes to think he’s your favourite. He knows he’s your favourite.

When he was the newest recruit, he thought nothing of your ways. You probably did it to all the rookies, but after a few weeks in, he realised you only ever did it to him. 

At first, you thought Leon was just like the others. He was inexperienced and expected much more than this field could accomplish. 

You were strict, that was much. The older officers knew of your demeanour when they had first been there. You weren’t cruel to rookies. They’re new officers. It’s their first time at the department, and you’ve been here longer than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t be too harsh on them, but you weren’t the gentle parenting kind either.

Something about Leon ticked you off, though. You didn’t know what exactly did. When he messed up, you had to tell him off, and, at first, it was worse than what you’d usually say to the other recruits. You felt that he should’ve known better. You weren’t ever this particular with rookies, and you’re shocked that Leon hasn’t even transferred yet. You felt guilty to the point you apologised to him.

So when you pull him aside from the others, they expect you to be worse than you usually are, sparing Leon from the embarrassment, and to an extent, you are. In reality, you’re softer to him. Even if it’s not noticeable — you can tell. You do it so your reputation stays intact. You’re mortified by how gentle you are to him, contradicting your usual attitude towards the other older officers. It’s obvious enough that Chris notices. 

Even though you are rough to Leon, sometimes you’re not as intimidating. Other times when he’s been playing the ass, you’re worse than usual.

When he forgets his papers, you’re easy on him. He’s hard-working, people forget. A slap on the wrist. If anyone else forgets them? You’re on their ass immediately. It’s part of the job. How can one be so forgetful?

You try to reason with yourself that Leon’s more responsible than the others. And you’re not wrong. But you feel uneasy knowing there is an underlying reason why you treat him differently.

He acts thoughtless during patrols? You’re oddly silent, more silent than usual, and it scares the entire department. They usually chalk it up to a patrol gone seriously awry, and it’s not entirely wrong to assume that. But you’re less of a threat when shit blows up in your face to uncontrollable forces rather than when things do not go as smoothly because of an avoidable mishap.

You’re residing in your office right now. If you were to face Kennedy right now, you’d do something you’d regret. He almost botched the arrest. You and a few officers patrolled an area known for its high crime rate where a recent robbery occurred at a nearby convenience store, and you and your team were investigating the area. 

During a conversation with the store’s owners, your squad found the suspect armed with a handgun. As you’re about to take action, just your luck, when Leon S. Kennedy handled the situation. He disobeyed your orders, whether verbally or not, when he dealt with the thief. You were appalled because he knew better than that. Maybe it was adrenaline or stupidity, but the situation could’ve gone south.

Back at the department, you ventured to your office, ignoring Kennedy in the guise of paperwork. You tried to do paperwork, but the image of Leon with a bullet wound, unable to be the officer he used to be or even dead, continues to flash in your mind. 

Was it normal to have such a sense of despair at the thought of losing a coworker? Not to this extent. For Christ's sake, he had a bulletproof vest on. Why were you even thinking about that? You never thought about your other colleagues in such a manner. 

Did you find him attractive? Of course, you had eyes — he was as cute as a button. Not that you’d admit that. Did you like Kennedy more than you lead on? Well, shit. You’re starting to overthink everything. You knew how fond he was of you, like a puppy, following you and obeying your every command. You probably liked that too much.

Sighing, you lean back on the soft cushioning of your office chair, the leather squeaking under your weight. You had to do something about this revelation, don’t you?

–-

Leon has been anticipating visiting your office once again. He’s disappointed with the silent treatment he’s been receiving from you lately. You had brushed him off initially, giving him a stern, “Don’t pull that shit again, Kennedy,” before dismissing him entirely. 

He wasn’t reckless on purpose to hear you reprimanding him. Not that he likes it or anything, but he prefers you being angry to blatantly disregarding him. He wished you’d do something. Punish him for all he cares.

Leon furiously clicks his pen, unable to focus on his papers. He wishes you’d pay attention to him. He reminisces on the time you shared at the bar. It seems to be on his mind more often lately. 

After a tough case, some officers decided to head to a bar and invited him to tag along. He was relatively new, so he took the opportunity while he could. The others relentlessly begged for you to join them — to loosen up. You weren’t keen on the idea at first but you eventually gave in. You clearly adored your squad, and it wasn’t as subtle as you thought.

Leon tried not to get too drunk. He did not want to embarrass himself in front of others, limiting his alcohol intake. You seem not too fond of getting drunk, bourbon in your hand, watered down by the ice. 

You were sat next to him, making quips and chuckling at inside jokes that the older cops say. He felt excluded, quietly sipping on his drink as he listened quietly. After another round, they started to filter out, leaving essentially you and him alone. There were others, but they were too intoxicated, waiting for their spouse to pick them up.

The buzz picks up its pace the longer he’s in the bar. He’s minding his business, and you’re with him. He takes a peek at you. You’re sat there with a look of contemplation. After a few moments, your voice slices through the noise that fills the packed room.

“Hey, Leon,” you said, turning to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. It was the only time he heard you call him by his first name, granted he only saw you at the department. He had looked at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry for being too hard on you. I know it’s probably a lot, but I do it ‘cause I care, ya know? I’ll ease up on ya.”

His cold lieutenant, who he hadn’t heard speak an entire sentence since you joined them for drinks, was talking to him, not just that, apologising to him. Your palm on his shoulder feels warm, giving him a reassuring squeeze before you drop your hand.

“It’s fine. You’re just doin’ your job, Lt.” His face gets redder at the prospect of you caring about him. God, you were so close, a rare smile blooming on your pretty lips. He’s quivering like a leaf and hopes you think it’s the alcohol. 

“I’m gonna head home. Need a drive?” You had finished your drink, standing up and putting on your jacket.

He shook his head, “No, I’ll be okay.”

He regrets not accepting the offer. He ended up taking a cab home, wondering how it’d play out if he had agreed to let you carry him home instead.

The same night, at home, he remembers your hand on his shoulder and the words you had said to him. He felt fuzzy, and he was sure he was mostly sober. He needed a cold shower, leading him to think not-so-professional thoughts about you, arousal blocking his senses.

Up against the cool bathroom wall, he tugs on his aching dick, wishing it was your hand instead, teasing him. He thought about what you’d do to him, making him cry as you whispered how much of a good boy he was, just like you’d tell him he did a good job after a tough assignment.

He came, his fingers coated in his sticky seeds, grimacing at the sight. He had taken an extra cold shower, pondering if he regretted climaxing to the thought of his boss.

He didn’t.

–-

Leon groans in annoyance, scratching off another word he spelt wrong. He wonders if you still remember the night at the bar. It wasn’t anything remarkable, but it solidified the burning fact that you actively care for him.

Leaning back on his chair, he decides to take a quick break. However, it was cut short as you entered the room. Your eyes are on him, and he immediately begins to work on his papers. He didn’t need another reason for you to disregard him.

“Kennedy, meet me in my office. Now,” you say. Your voice is cold, and you’re glaring at him. The officers in the room are giving him a look filled with pity. He doesn’t care, preferring your attention over their sympathy. It’s the longest sentence you’ve said to him since you reached the department.

As you walk to your office, Leon follows like an obedient puppy. He hears the gossip of his coworkers behind him once they think he’s out of shot. He ignores their words and trails behind you, anticipation filling his system as well as another emotion that only you can make him feel.

Once in your office, Leon closes the door behind him with shaky hands. He’s trying his best not to smile, biting his lip. You didn’t forget about him.

“Lock the door,” you sighed. Your command confuses Leon, but he obliges, twisting the lock on the door. You’re leaning up against your wooden desk, arms crossed. You refused to look at him, but your acknowledgement of him was enough. He’ll take what he can get.

“Come closer,” you beckon, your voice low as you look at him. He nervously walks closer to you, almost tripping over his own feet. He prays you didn’t see that. Leon coughs awkwardly, a few inches away from you, leaving enough room for Jesus.

“You know why I brought you in here, officer?” You questioned, voice laced with authority. Leon is stunned at your response. Usually, you get it over within a few minutes, leaving him to finish his papers with a dazed smile, not entertaining pointless questions.

“U– uh, because I disobeyed your orders?” Staring at the floor, he doesn’t want to see your reaction. He really fucked up this time if you’re dragging it out like this.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. Humming softly, you reply, “Yes. You’re a smart boy, Leon. Shouldn’t you know better?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry, lieutenant,” he answers quickly, straightening his posture. Fuck, you’re calling him by his first name all of a sudden.

“I should punish you,” You mention, catching him off guard. He stares at you with doe eyes, pink lips parted as if he didn’t hear you correctly. The sentence wasn’t inherently wrong, but the tone you said made his body heat up.

You grab his belt, softly tugging him closer to you. He stumbles, pressing himself against your warm body, lips brushing against yours. He’s stunned, unable to form a coherent thought, watching you grin at the sight of him.

“I think you’d like that too much,” you chuckle, admiring how wrecked Leon was. You didn’t even get to the fun part yet. You bump noses together as you get nearer to his face.

“Is this okay, darlin’?”

“God, yes, please.”

You capture his lips softly with your own, and he whimpers quietly. Your lips move in sync with his. It’s slow and soft, and you’re testing the waters with him. If he knew he’d be making out with you in your office, he’d buy some mints. His hands move to grip your waist, squeezing eagerly to get more of you.

You break away, heavily breathing as you try to catch your breath. Leon’s chest flushed to yours, and his lips slick with your combined spit. He subtly grinds his bulge against your thigh, eyes snapped shut. The kiss was so much better than he imagined. He still can’t fathom that this is real, that you’re real.

“Can I touch you, pretty boy?” you ask, fidgeting with his belt buckle. His head reels. You think he’s pretty? He’s heard others say it but thought nothing of it. It’s different when it comes to you. 

He nods mindlessly, “Yeah, t– touch me.”

Slowly, you unbuckle his pants, watching it fall to the ground. He’s in his boxers, precum darkening the light-coloured fabric. You run your fingers along his prominent erection through the cloth. A soft moan escapes Leon as you tease the tip.

He watches with hooded eyes as you trail your hand from his tummy to the waistline of his boxers, tugging them down. His cock is fully erect, flushed pink to the head and dribbling precum down his shaft. Wrapping your digits around his throbbing dick, you slowly stroke him, kissing his neck and nipping the sensitive flesh.

You use the excess precum dribbling down his cock as a lubricant, picking up your pace. Leon’s desperate moans fill the room, as well as the lewd noise of you jerking his aching cock. Your other hand wraps around his taut waist, bringing him closer to you. You whisper filthy words and praises into his ear, your pace on his member insistent. 

When he’s about to climax, you stop your movement, cruelly laughing as Leon whines at the loss of your touch. He desperately bucks his hips into your enclosed hands, but it’s not enough. He looks at you with glossy eyes and fluttering lashes. 

“This a punishment, darling. You’re not going t’cum that easily,” you tease, slowly stroking his shaft once more, thumbing the sensitive head of his cock. Leon furrows his brows, frustrated. Leon knew he could’ve avoided this if he was good for you, but then again, would have you been giving him a handjob if he wasn’t so bad.

You continue to bring him close to completion, only to take it away at the last second. He doesn’t know how many times you’ve ruined his chances of coming undone, but he knows you’re cruel. Tears streamed down his face, leaving a red, irritated trail behind on his skin.

“Oh, you look so pretty when you cry, darlin’.” you coo, his cock still in your fist as you continue to stroke him after ruining another orgasm. He throws his head back, and you’re nuzzling into the junction of his neck, leaving bite marks on the flushed skin.

“Please, please, let me cum. I– I'll be your good boy,” he hiccups, rutting his hips into your palm. 

“Mhm, okay, baby. I think you deserve it.”

You take your hand off his needy dick and give him a sloppy kiss on his lips. He observes you through watery eyes as you get on your knees in front of him, your hands gripping the back of his thighs. Fuck, he couldn’t believe it. His lieutenant was on their knees for him, about to make him cum with their mouth.

He whimpers when you drag your tongue along the shaft, tracing the veins that lead to the base. You moan softly at the taste, kissing the tip before taking him entirely into your mouth. He couldn't help but buck into your warm mouth. 

He wasn’t going to last long, he was already so sensitive from you jerking him off. His ruined orgasms only add to it. He props himself on your mahogany desk, the wood digging into his back. Eyes rolling to the back of his head when you hallow your cheeks and take more of him down your throat.

“Ugh, Fuck,” he cries when you moan around his dick, his eyes squeeze shut. A wet gag leaves you as the spongy tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and your grip on the back of his thighs tightens, leaving indents in the soft flesh. 

“‘M so close,” he whines, thrusting feverishly into your mouth, the desk shaking with each move. Drool slips past your lips as you stare up at him through your lashes clumped together by tears, silently permitting him to climax, his tummy clenching at the sight. To see you in such a manner, you, who’s always professional, on your knees in front of him, choking on this swollen cock. It’s something that’s only ever occurred in his wildest dreams.

He whimpers loudly, hand clasping over his mouth to hide his embarrassing moans as he finishes down your throat. You pull away from his softening cock, coughing, wiping the spit and cum accumulated on your face. You stand up on wobbly knees, gripping Leon’s bicep to balance yourself.

Once Leon gathers himself, he kisses you, filled with passion, his arms encircling your waist, moaning into your mouth. He’s giddy, peppering kisses all over your cheeks and puffy lips. You really do like him, don’t you? You just gave him the orgasm of his lifetime in your office. It’d only be fair to help you out, too.

“Can I return the favour, Lt.?”

[xxblairexxss]

Pick me up (Part 1)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Charles got a call from Monaco prison and he wished you took it more seriously.

I had this in my draft for quite a while so I guess I should share it with you guys because I think it’s adorable!

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne

“Is it recording?” You took a step back and accidentally hit your hind foot against the leg of the armchair. “Oh my god. Wait, let me sit first.” You plonked yourself on the mint coloured seat and brought your hair up to tie it into a messy bun.

The sound of a dial tone resounded from your phone. You had enabled the loud speaker once the call was connected to the number you had clicked. “I’m so nervous!” You covered your grin and whispered to the other phone that was propped up against your mirror and was recording, the time at the top end of the screen started calculating every seconds.

“Hello…?”

“Oh!” Your mouth formed an ‘O’ as you quickly pressed on the space button. “Hello, this is a collect call from the Remand Prison of Monaco for inmate Y/N Y/L/N.” Came on the text-to-speech voice from your laptop that you had set aside.

“What the heck?!” You heard Charles’s voice went louder into the phone as he cleared his throat after.

You clicked on a different tab and pressed on the spacebar key again. “Say yes if you would like to accept this call.”

“Yes, please.”

“Baby!” You cried out.

“Honey, what the fuck is going on?” You had a hard time to control your giggle hearing how tensed he was.

You sighed. “I–I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“Can you come pick me up?” You faked a wept and quickly covered your mouth to bury your smile, as if he could see your face.

“How did you get arrested?” You could hear he was getting stressed and then came a soft sound of a door being closed. You were so sure he had segregated himself because his voice was louder this time.

You held your tongue, trying to make it looked as if you were having trouble to talk from heavy crying. “I told you I was going to go to Starbucks, right?”

“Yeah? And did you get possessed or something?”

“No! I found this cute mug and this old lady tried to steal it from my hand so I whacked her in the head.”

He breathed out and you knew he was trying to calm himself down so there was only silence in the air for a few seconds. “You….beat an old lady for a mug? Honey….” The tone of his voice changed from fretted to full of disappointment.

“She tried to steal it from me!” You replied, defending yourself.

“Didn’t give you a reason to smack her! What were you thinking? What— what am— are you okay, honey? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, but they made me wear this jail outfit. I don’t like it and it’s cold here.” You could barely took a breath when he replied to you straight away.

“The audacity of you to complain about that after you punched someone, Y/N. What am I supposed to do now? When can they release you? How many years?”

“They said you can come pick me up but you have to bring a pen because there’s some agreements you have to sign.” You answered. You had been silently giggling so you hoped the phone call didn’t pick up the sound of it.

“What agreement? Oh my god, how serious is this matter? What else should I bring?” He sounded like he was walking back and forth, probably from the agitation or he was indeed, looking for a pen.

“I don’t know! You need to come in 30 minutes or they won’t accept any appeal and you’ll have to wait for another month.” You pulled the phone away and winced when he howled in distress.

“Y/N! You should have told me earlier! Can you please take this seriously? We spent 10 minutes on the phone already. I’m coming.”

“Charles, wait!” He ended the call before you could say anything and convulsed with laughter, your body and shoulders shook from it. “I need to call him back before he literally go and pay the prison a visit. Bye!” You clicked on the red button on the screen of your phone and the video ended.

[softspiderling]

“FUCK!”

Rafe slapped his open palm against the glass of the claw machine, making everyone jump in the near vicinity.

“Rafe, come on,” you said, biting back a smirk as you tugged on his arm. While you thought it was hilarious that he was getting so fed up over a honest to god claw machine, you didn’t need to get banned from the arcade for causing a scene. “It’s fine. It’s just a plushie.”

“But you wanted it, didn’t you?”

Rafe stared at you with raised eyebrows, his fist clutching the joystick so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I mean, yeah, but I don’t get everything I want.”

He stared you down a little harder and you rolled your eyes at him, curling your hands around your bicep.

“Come on, I’m serious. I don’t need it that badly. Just said it was cute. And it’s literally rigged to not work.”

You slid your hand in his, trying to drag him away from the claw machine, but again: Not moving a budge. Sighing loudly, you turned around to give him a look, before you stood on your tip toes to whisper into his ear.

“Take me home and I’ll give you a consolation prize for your troubles.”

“Fine,” Rafe grunted, trailing after you as you went for the exit. When you suddenly stopped in your tracks mid-walk, he nearly bowled over you, only preventing that by holding onto your waist.

“What now??”

“I gotta go pee.”

“Baby, we’re five minutes away from my house.”

“Be right back!” You called over your shoulder, seeing how Rafe threw his hands up in exasperation.

It didn’t take you long in the bathroom - doing your business and checking your make up - which was why you were extra confused to see Rafe wasn’t where you left him when you returned. Slipping your phone out of your pocket, you typed out a message to him, when you noticed a small crowd around the claw machine.

“If someone won a plushie now, he’s gonna lose his mind,” you mumbled to yourself, trying to peek in between the heads, before freezing when you saw what caused the commotion. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Pushing yourself between the gawking people, you almost ran over a little boy in the process, before you stood in front of the claw machine, where Rafe sat on the floor, his arm stuck in the dispenser. He looked absolutely miserable.

“Seriously?”

Rafe looked up to you through his lashes, his forehead creased. You shook your head at him in disbelief, slowly lifting your phone to take a picture, and he only scowled at you.

“I was trying to get that Stitch plushie for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to stick your arm up the machine!!!”

Half an hour later, you and Rafe were sitting in his car and he was still in a mood. It had taken the employee fifteen minutes to get the screws out of the machine to get Rafe unstuck, and that left a red angry mark on his bicep, which he was still rubbing on.

“That thing is deathly, what if a kid put his arm up there?” he muttered to himself.

“Well, to be fair, your arm is like at least twice the size of a kid’s arm,” you pointed out, making him roll his eyes, though you could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“You never complained about my arms before.”

“And I still haven’t,” you argued, pushing his hand away to gently caress the irritated skin, slowly starting to feel bad. “Does it hurt much?”

“Yeah, ‘s agonizing. You gon’ kiss it better?”

You rolled your eyes but you still placed a kiss on his bicep, leaving a lipstick stain.

“You happy now?”

Lifting your head, you raised your eyebrow at him and he only looked at you with dark eyes, before grabbing you by the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a heated kiss. You kissed him back, even letting him slip his tongue in your mouth for a second before you pulled away, hand on his chest.

“Let’s go home before you get arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Me?” Rafe muttered under his breath, but he started the engine anyway, pulling his truck out of the parking lot. As you buckled yourself up, you suddenly remembered something turning to him.

“Hey, you know you could’ve just paid them to get a plushie, right?”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before I put my hand in a death trap?!”

[ktsumu]

YOU TOLD ME TO DO IT SCARED

Iwaizumi was sixteen when he lost all of his fear.

He doesn’t really remember exactly what it was that the two of you were talking about, or when, but he remembers how his voice echoed in the alleyway home — the shortcut, he called it.

Iwaizumi remembers rambling and he remembers that you let him; you were never one to cut him off. He was a good listener, as it could be especially hard to get a word in around people like his group of friends, but you?

Around you? He couldn’t shut up.

He was rambling on and on about something — he forgets what, but it was big for his sixteen-year-old self. Nerve-wracking.

“Are you done?” he remembers you asking, side-eyeing him as you walked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m done.”

“Great. What are you even worried about, Hajime?”

(He still doesn’t know what. It turns out that you were right, and it was so insignificant that he can’t even remember what was bothering him to this day.)

“I don’t know. Rejection. Failure—“

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Yes, because Hajime Iwaizumi is known for failing.”

He furrowed his brows. “Don’t be mad that I’m nervous.”

“Scared, Haji.”

“I’m not—“

(You gave him a look and he shut his mouth.)

“So what?” he asked then, dropping his hands in his pockets. You never really knew why he was so good with you, why he talked so much — you never dared question it. “How do I get over it and just do it?”

You smile, shaking your head.

“You don’t get over it. You do it scared.”

“What?”

“Fake it ‘til ya make it, Haji.”

(Iwaizumi doesn’t remember what he did, but he knows he did it terrified; he did it well, too. Passed the test, won the game, cleared the hurdle, got the job. Whatever it was.)

Iwaizumi was sixteen when he lost all of his fear. He’s twenty-eight when it all comes crawling back.

By now, he’s more than a decade older with a bunch of fearlessness under his belt, from spiders put back outside to funny noises in the yard. He’s carding his fingers through your hair on the couch you both picked out, and he hasn’t been this scared in a really, really long time.

(Probably not since you told him that he just needed to do it.)

Iwaizumi is scared because, for the first time in the three months he’s been carrying your ring in his pocket, he really wants to fucking give it to you.

He’s always wanted to — no shit, it’s why he bought it — but tonight is the first time he wants to ask you. He doesn’t just want to picture it on your finger, he wants to feel it against his hand when he holds yours.

The same movie you’ve seen four times plays on the TV. You’re leaned right against him; your eyes are heavy, you’ve yawned a few times.

Half of him wants to do it, half of him knows it’s late.

It’s just — it’s you in his shirt, in his sweatpants, in his arms. He has been yours for way too long to not have done this sooner, but neither of you have ever been in a rush to do anything.

Until now, half past midnight on your long weekend and all he wants to do is plan a wedding.

Iwaizumi can’t even sit in his imagination for long, because soon enough you’re sitting up with a look of confusion and you’re lifting his hoodie up, putting a hand over his heart.

“What?” he says, half a breath and half a laugh.

You look … concerned. He can’t tell whether he thinks it’s cute or distressing. “You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Hajime, your heart is racing.”

“Is it?” he asks. He sets his hand beside yours. “Nope, don’t feel it.”

You roll your eyes, yanking his sweater back down as you sit at his side. “Well, something is making you two steps away from arresting right here. Spill before I call an ambulance.”

“It’s nothing, seriously. Watch the movie, will you?”

“But I’m nosy, damnit. Don’t you know me at all?”

God, so fucking well. Somehow, not well enough. Tell me more. Tell me everything I already know.

“It’s nothing!”

“Hajime,” you say, and finally your voice is stern. “Whatever you want to say, you know I could never be mad at you for it.”

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath. The box in his pocket feels like it’s made of fucking lead.

“I—“

“Stop. It.”

(He does. He stands up instead.)

“Okay, wait,” you start again, “I didn’t mean leave.”

“Give me a second, damn,” he groans, dusting off his pants, checking it’s still there. Of course it’s still there, but if it wasn’t, this would be bad.

Iwaizumi knows you deserve a thousand flowers and a candle-lit beach, and maybe he’ll give you both. But he’s neck-deep and the water is rising; it’s now or within the next hour, really.

“Hey, are you alright? You’re pale,”

“I’m fine,” he reassures you. Iwaizumi kneels in front of the couch.

“Hajime,” you say again, face contorted in worry. “Seriously, are you—?”

You don’t just trail off, you jump off the road.

In one of his hands is a box. A small one, fitting for a ring. His other hand rests on your knee.

“Are you—“

“—dead serious? Yeah,” he says, sounding way less strong than he looks. “I am.”

He opens the little box, showing you what’s inside. It’s in your colour, a pretty diamond glistening beneath the warm light of your table lamp and the movie. You swear you even mentioned that shape once, probably years ago.

“No,”

“Yeah,” he says, “yes.”

“Are you serious?” you whisper, feeling your tears jerk to the surface, rimming your eyes. You rest a hand on his.

He’s shaking.

“Hajime,” you laugh, wiping a hand under your eye. “You’re shaking.”

He sighs.

“I know,” he nods. Iwaizumi cracks a small smile — he thinks he might cry, too. “You told me to do it scared.”

Your brows furrow and unfurrow in the matter of a few seconds. Yeah, you did say that.

(You were sixteen and talking about less major things, but you did say that.)

“So I’m doing it,” he finishes. “Scared.”

“Scared of what?”

He shrugs. “That I’d stutter when I ask you to marry me. Or that you’d say no.”

You smile. “Have you asked me?”

“Not yet. I was gonna make a speech, but I,” he slows. He stops — he has to, he’s getting choked up. “I might have to save it for later.”

“I don’t want a speech, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. Iwaizumi takes your hand in his shaking hold, his thumb swiping over the top of your ring finger. “I’m gonna do it now.”

“Get on with it, Hajime.”

You’re unmistakably excited.

Iwaizumi kisses where the ring will be if you tell him yes. Scared and all, he looks up at you.

(He speaks the words you’ve been waiting for into your skin. Will you marry me? murmured into your knuckles.

You don’t even tell him yes. Not coherently, anyway.)

You throw yourself into his chest and he has to hold himself up against the coffee table behind him to kiss you upright.

“Yes,” you answer again, over and over. “Even if you were scared to ask.”

“It just means I love you, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, taking your hand and moving it back in front of him. He slips your ring onto your finger. “Just scared on the off chance you were gonna spit in my face—“

“Shut up,”

“Hey, don’t talk to your fiancé like that.” Iwaizumi hesitates, looking up from the ring to your face. His eyes are so soft that you know they’re for you. “That has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Fiancé,” you repeat. Husband to be.

“Yeah. That does sound pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“Just imagine how I think fiancée sounds, honey.”

“And look — you didn’t even stutter.”

“Oh, come o—“

“Careful what you say, now. Happy fiancée, happy life, Hajime.”

“I don’t think that’s the saying, but okay.”

note; tagging @shotorus because this is your man :3 happy late birthday sel!

[rahhhbananas]

✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐍 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. spider-plush, miles, gwen, pavitr, hobie

summary. 5 idiots in a court room

warning(s). He/Him pronouns, foul language

a/n. A lot of ppl liked my last post, so here’s part 2!

“Order in the court!”

The judge, or Gwen, yelled. Banging the wooden mallet on the bench. She cleared her throat before looking at the crowd. Pavitr, Y/n, and Spider-Plush on one side, while Hobie and Miles on the opposing “You can all probably guess why you are all here…?” The chirps of a cricket bounced off the empty courtroom walls, “Okay, we are gathered here for the trial of Spider-Plush, or whatever, I have no idea how court works.” Gwen mumbled, fidgeting with her papers. Hobie nodded, and Miles coughed awkwardly, “Speaking nothin but the truth…” Hobie whispered, with a slight smirk. Gwen snapped her neck in his direction, sending the punk a playful glare. The blonde sighed, “Anyways..”

“HE’S GUILTY, ARREST HIM!”

“Arrest?”

“First off, don’t interrupt the judge. Second, we don’t have the budget for handcuffs that’d keep Hobie contained.”

“Got that right.”

“Y/n no one saw this ‘criminal act’ but you. We don’t even have enough evidence for a court case.”

“I AM A WITNESS!”

“Ok…Pav, maybe we should stay outta this one.”

“HE IS MY CLIENT, I WILL NOT STAY OUT OF THIS”

“YEAH MORALES, STOP HARASSING MY LAWYER”

“HARRASING??”

“wow.”

“We should all calm down.”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CLAM DOWN!”

“YEAH, DON’T TELL MY CLIENT TO CALM DOWN!”

“Come on Pav, we’re leaving!”

Y/n rose from his seat, stopping near Miles. His gaze fixed upon his boyfriend, a stern expression etched across his face. "Morales," Y/n's voice carried a note of seriousness. Miles met his gaze, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in his eyes. "L/n," Miles responded, mirroring the intensity of Y/n's stare. “The child support?” His face contorted into fear “I….forgot?” It sounded more like a question than an answer, but that didn’t stop Y/n from expressing his displeasure. But, his demeanor quickly changed.

“Y’all hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat”

“Sure! Being a heartless lawyer is hard work”

“As long as I’m not payin”

“When have you ever paid?”

“I don’t believe in givin those big companies money, it’s all goin to waste anyways”

“Ugh, don’t get him started on another rant!”

“Like it or not, you’re gonna need it”

“Yeah, cause beating the shit outta cops is gonna get me into college.”

“It’s gonna get you somewhere alright…”

“Yeah, jail!”

“Alrigh’ stop this slander!”

As the group walked away, their voices gradually fading into the distance, Miles stood there, a smile playing on his lips. He couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment as he watched his friends. But the fleeting moment of solitude was soon interrupted by a surge of excitement, urging Miles to catch up with the others. Without hesitation, he dashed forward, his footsteps quickening as he eagerly joined his friends.

“So, what we eatin?”

“Whatever Y/n wants”

“I’m bringing Margo next time, y’all bitches are lame.”

“HEY!”

“Woah. Couldn’t even wait until we got off government grounds to start cursing?”

“I taught ‘em well.”

“Except you Pav, best lawyer man!”

“Yay! :D”