Hey queen😇 Instead of makeup sxx after an argument how would the creeps react to their s/o giving them the silent treatment. Becauseeee ik we all love our sexy men but they lowkey need to learn a lesson… and im just stubborn like that when somewun makes me upset 💀🙏
They'd hate it lol 😭
The Creeps When Their S/O Gives Them The Silent Treatment
Toby
The fight was stupid. Something small that snowballed, and now you’ve gone quiet, refusing to look at him or answer when he speaks. Toby hates it. His tics pick up immediately, shoulders jerking harder than usual as he trails after you around the house like a lost puppy.
At first he tries words, voice cracking with his stutter. “C-come on, baby, talk to me… I didn’t mean it like th-that.” When you keep moving past him without a response, something in him shifts. He goes soft instead.
He starts small. Grabs your favorite soda and sets it down near you with careful hands, lingering like he’s hoping you’ll acknowledge it. Later, when you sit on the couch, he drops down right beside you, closer than necessary. His arm snakes around your waist after a minute, and when you don’t push him off, he gets bolder. Toby curls fully into you, face pressed into the crook of your neck, warm breath tickling your skin.
“You’re k-killing me here,” he mumbles against your throat, voice muffled and shaky. One of his hands rubs slow, soothing circles on your side, the same way you comfort him when his tics get bad. His body twitches every so often, but he holds on tighter. “I h-hate when you go quiet… makes my chest feel all weird and empty.”
You stay silent a little longer, stubborn, but he doesn’t give up. He nuzzles closer, pressing soft, almost pleading kisses along your jaw and temple. “Please? I’ll do a-anything… just l-look at me, baby.”
The warmth of him, the gentle clinginess, and the way his voice cracks eventually break you. You sigh and lean into his chest. Toby lights up instantly, arms squeezing you like he’s never letting go. “There you are,” he whispers, relief thick in his voice as he buries his face in your hair.
Tim
You go silent and Tim feels it like a wall slamming down between you. His face hardens. For the first few hours he matches your energy with his own brooding silence, jaw clenched, movements sharp as he stomps around the house. The tension in the air is thick enough to choke on.
Eventually it gets to him. He grabs his jacket. “Porch. Now,” he grunts, not really asking.
You follow him outside into the cold night air. Tim lights a cigarette, the flame briefly lighting up the hard lines of his face. He takes a long drag, then holds it out to you without looking over. You accept it, fingers brushing his. The two of you sit on the wooden steps, shoulders almost touching, passing the cigarette back and forth in the quiet.
After several minutes of smoke curling up between you, Tim exhales heavily. “This silent shit sucks,” he mutters. “I know I fucked up, alright? Didn’t mean to push it that far.”
He bumps his knee against yours, a small, tired gesture. When you finally mutter something back, even if it’s short, the stiffness in his shoulders eases. He takes the cigarette back, then surprises you by wrapping a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. His jacket smells like smoke and him.
“Next time just yell at me instead,” he says, pressing a rough kiss to the top of your head. “Hate not hearing your voice.”
Brian
Silent treatment is Brian’s specialty, so when you turn it on him, he hates it. His first instinct is to give it right back. He becomes a ghost in his own home: quiet footsteps, no unnecessary words. He does his tasks with that calm, detached precision, eyes passing over you without lingering, like he’s proving he can play this game better than anyone.
You feel the coldness of it after a few hours. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. Eventually you cave and ask for something small. “Brian… can you get the box from the top shelf?”
Without a word he crosses the room, tall frame reaching up easily. He sets the box gently in your hands, his fingers brushing yours for a moment longer than needed. The touch is warm, a tiny crack in the ice. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes soften just slightly when they meet yours.
You try again later with another small request. He helps every single time, wordless but attentive. A blanket draped over your shoulders when you look cold. A mug of tea left beside you without fanfare. Each act is silent, almost detached on the surface, but the care is there in the details - how he adjusts the blanket so it covers you properly, how the tea is made exactly how you like it.
Finally, when the weight of the silence becomes too much, you break it properly. “Brian… I hate this.”
He pauses what he’s doing, turning toward you slowly. For a long moment he just looks at you, expression unreadable. Then he steps closer, one hand coming up to rest lightly on your arm, thumb brushing your skin in a rare show of softness.
“I know,” he says. “I hate it too.” He doesn’t pull you in or overwhelm you with words, that’s not his way, but he stays close, letting the silence finally shift into something gentler. His hand lingers, steady and reassuring, until you’re ready to talk more.
Ben
Ben does not handle the silent treatment well. At all.
He starts annoying on purpose. Whining dramatically from across the room. “Baaaabe. Hello? Earth to my favorite person?” He drapes himself over the back of the couch while you’re sitting there, sighing loudly every thirty seconds. “I’m literally dying over here. Respawn me with attention, please.”
When that doesn’t crack you, he gets fidgety, guilt creeping in. Eventually he crawls onto the bed beside you, hair a mess, expression genuinely sorry for once. He pokes your side gently.
“Okay, okay… I was a dumbass. I’m sorry,” he says, voice softer. “I hate when you go all quiet like that.”
You glance over and he gives you that crooked, sheepish grin. “So… we good now? Can I make it up to you?” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Lemme eat you out. On my knees and everything. What do you say?”
You smack his arm and he laughs, rolling on top of you in a tangle of limbs, pressing sloppy kisses all over your face and neck until you’re laughing too. “There’s that sound I missed,” he mumbles against your skin, still grinning.
Jeff
Jeff reacts with his usual sharp edges first.
“Fine. Be a bitch then,” he snaps when you refuse to answer him, voice cutting. He storms out of the room, door slamming hard behind him. You hear him moving around the house for a while, restless and pissed.
But he comes back. He always does.
Later that night you’re lying in bed, still wrapped in silence, when the mattress dips heavily. Jeff stretches out on his back right beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours. He doesn’t speak at first, just stares at the ceiling. Then he turns his head, looking at you with that dangerous, crooked smile - the one that’s equal parts asshole and charm.
“C’mon, baby,” he drawls. “You gonna freeze me out forever? I know I’m an asshole, I can't help it.” He shifts onto his side, facing you fully. One hand comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. “Don’t make me beg.”
When you finally crack a tiny smile, his grin widens. He scoots even closer until his forehead rests against yours, breath warm on your lips. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “Hate not hearing you talk shit back to me. Don’t do that silent crap again, you hear me?”
He stays right there until the wall between you melts completely.
Jack
Jack notices the shift right away. His dark voids linger on you a little longer than usual, head tilting slightly in that quiet, thoughtful way. He seems a bit confused, like he’s not entirely sure what the right amount of space is, but he respects it completely.
He doesn’t crowd you. He moves around the infirmary or the house with his usual careful precision, still doing small things to take care of you from a distance: leaving water or snacks where you’ll find them, making sure the lights are dimmed when you’re in the room.
The silence stretches, but it never feels angry with Jack.
After some time, when you finally step closer or speak, he turns to you immediately. “Are you ready to talk?” he asks, voice low and calm, no pressure at all.
When you nod or reach for him, Jack pulls you in. His arms wrap around you with that careful, solid strength, cool skin against yours as a low purr starts rumbling deep in his chest. He rests his cheek against the top of your head, holding you close.
“I... missed your voice,” he murmurs quietly. His hands rub slow, soothing strokes down your back.
The purr deepens as you relax into him, letting you know without words that he’s willing to wait as long as it takes.
Swears it’s all out of love. He wants to keep you as safe as possible, round the clock. He isn’t supposed to know your address, your place of work, your car registration number- he just does. He becomes addicted to new shreds of information on you, like you’re his favourite show and each new piece is a brand new episode he cant look away from.
He’ll climb up trees to stare in your bedroom window, watching you sleep for hours and imagining all the ways he could get away with crawling through your window and lying like a dog at the foot of your bed.
If he’s taking time to memorise your routines, he means no harm, really. He’s fallen for you, and he was never taught how to act normal in a situation like that.
♡ Ben ♡
Absolutely shameless about stalking you, to the point it borders on disgusting. Has cameras on your house, in your bedroom, in your car, in your workplace, anywhere you might just walk into. There’s a tab open on his computer that he can flick to and just watch you go about your day. He’ll sit while he’s waiting on a game to load, mindlessly watching you cook dinner for yourself.
He’s completely perverted about it too. Will angle cameras so he can stare down your shirt and watch while you get dressed. Gets off on the fact that you have no idea it’s happening.
Contacts you on occasion. He’ll text you from an unknown number just for kicks as he watches you confused, trying to decipher where it’s come from. He’s a technological mastermind, and in terms nof stalking, his game is miles above the others.
♡ Jeff ♡
He is not a stalker. Lets be real. If he falls in love with you, its gonna be an absolute slow burn. He thinks he’s too good to waste time following around someone else.
Saying that, he coincidentally appears in your area more times than he needs to be. He’ll brush it off, knowing no one has the guts to ask him why exactly, he’s been spotted near the same house six times in one week. He lies to himself, more than anything.
If he’s feeling really agitated about your whereabouts, he might tell Ben to work some of his magic and show him where you are. By this point, he’s obsessed with you to the point that even a ten second headstart won’t do a thing to save you.
♡ Tim ♡
He completely deludes himself into thinking this is for the greater good. Even if you have nothing to do with the Operator, he tricks his mind into thinking that if he leaves you unattended for more than a few days, you’ll get tracked down and targeted by him.
He blends in well with his surroundings. If you’re a regular at a certain coffee shop, he’ll coincidentally be sitting at the window table everytime you walk in. He’s the stranger sitting across from you on the bus, and the guy in the store standing next to you, idly browsing the drinks section.
Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night for water, and you swear you see a shadow standing in your backyard. It’s fleeting though- disappears when you rub your eyes. He never makes his presence known to you.
♡ Brian ♡
He’s a lot more cryptic about it than you think he’d be. Sure, his main priorities are remaining anonymous, but that doesn’t mean he can’t treat you every now and then.
He has all your routes mapped out, and uses this knowledge for benevolence more than anything. On icy mornings, expect to find the path you take to work has been completely cleared. On sunny mornings, expect to open your front door to see a fresh bottle of lemonade- a gift from a neighbour- waiting for you.
He never means to hurt you. He just thinks you’re precious, living in the world as innocent and naive as you do. He likes it when you look relieved at a gesture he’s sent your way. He hates that he’s such a lover, but it’s carved into his bones.
♡ Jack ♡
Probably the best, and most terrifying stalker to have. He’s extremely tactical, being an expert at breaking and entering, and lacks humanity more than any of the others, which is terrifying if you ever wake up at the wrong time.
He invites himself into your house to watch you sleep. He feeds on your energy. He’s starving for you, how can you blame him? Even being around you, watching your chest rise and fall is the sweetest of tortures and the foot of his addiction.
He picks locks and covers his tracks before sunrise. He’ll sit at the edge of your bed, only moving in the night, and gently brush his fingertips against your bare skin while you sleep. Each night, he gets closer and closer to acting on his impulses, but your beauty is a reckoning. It’s the one thing that makes him hesitate.
With: Jeffrey Woods, Ben Drowned, Jack Nyras, Brian Thomas, Toby rogers, Tim Wright and Habit
★Jeffrey Woods
Neck kiss: i mean, are we even surprised? He loves to mark you up and show everyone who you belong to (even tho he has commitment issues). He would be rough when kissing your neck, touching your hips or back while he does it (plus if you are on under him).
★Ben Drowned
I feel like he wouldn't have one favorite place, but lips and chest are probably his favorites. He also likes kissing your shoulders if you are sitting on top of him while he plays video games (he loves having you in his lap while he plays).
★Jack Nyras
Forehead kiss and eyelids kiss: he loves all of your face, but for him, a forehead kiss feels so intimate sometimes. He also likes when he backs up a bit and sees you looking up to him with those pretty eyes of yours (because bealive me, you are probably shorter than this guy).
★Tim Wright
Thighs: idk why, but I feel like he would love thighs no matter the size. He would love to bite them, kiss them, lay on them everything. He would come from his little "work" and just lay on your thighs while you run your fingers through his hair and that? That's more than enough for him.
★Toby Rogers
HANDS (and chest): This man is in love with kissing and worshipping you, so he, of course, loves to kiss your hands! He likes to kiss them, especially if they are cold. He also loves to put them in his face and kiss the palm of your hand.
★Brian Thomas
Lips: He likes your lips, bitting them,he likes to tease you, kissing the corners of your mouth, and he also likes kissing and nibbling on your ears because again, this man loves teasing.
★Habit
Neck: he is pretty much like jeff likes to mark your neck and also your thighs. He is pretty overprotective of you, so he likes to mark you, but he would rather die than admit it.
Another work I could save! I hope you guys like it, remember to take care of yourself and drink tons of water!!
[cw: f!reader, mentions of drinking/smoking, smut, piv, choking, sex tape, humiliation/degradation kink, self indulgent rahhh]
[words: 1.5k]
𖦤ᯤ every breath you take - the police
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ ─•──── ⩇⩇:⩇⩇
"Bet."
"I got it covered."
"Hey there, pretty baby,"
Brian woke up from the fall a broken husk of the kid he used to be. He's colder, more calculating, more unempathetic. But that boyish charisma and dorkiness he retained from his former identity in tandem with his inhuman grit and conviction just adds to his allure.
His short, feathery tufts of dirty blonde fall over his forehead and just over his straight brows. If you look closely, you'll notice his patches of light freckles over his cheeks and eyelids.
Brian's plush, rosy lips and tooth gap offer a soft juxtaposition to the burliness of his fuzzy, swole pecs, defined arms, and the golden patch of hair tapered into a line just below his belly button. Standing at just under 6ft, his build is sleek and proportionate, lean muscles that look stone-carved by hand.
He has a bunch of healed, old scars but his body is somehow always sliced up, scraped, and bruised in little ways from being a rough and reckless guy. He's kind of a masochist and likes feeling soreness after exerting his body.
"You're staring."
"That's gonna leave a mark."
"Haha, next time, I'll chill, I promise."
There's his iconic painted mask, mustard yellow sweatshirt, and blue jeans- the uniform he wears when operating as Hoody. As for his casual wardbrobe, Brian likes rich, earthy colors, especially greens, blues, browns and black, but he also likes red.
He loves to see you in any color he'd pick for himself. Whether it's a camo shorts, a sky blue picnic dress, or a lacey, ruby red boudoir set, his bright, hazelnut-colored eyes darken, narrowing on you like a predator stalking his prey. He silently debates if he loves seeing you wear it more than he wants to rip it off of you.
"Holy shit, you're fucking gorgeous."
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"I'll buy you another one."
Tree hugger and adrenaline junkie. Big hiker. Brian leaves you breaking a sweat and panting as you trail behind him. He belly laughs unapologetically at you stumbling down the steep paths back to the ground. Loves rock climbing and fishing.
"Watch your step."
"Watch your face, I like it."
One time he tried dirt biking and he considers it one of the best experiences of his life. It was the fast wind and the endless woods flying into nothing behind him, the crackling rumble of the engine under his feet, and the heart thumping thrill that leaves him craving it again.
"I miss having fun."
"Get ready, I'm taking you out."
Loves taking you on coffee dates, but is skeptical and takes precautions against being perceived. He'll wear sunglasses inside the cafe, a dark hoodie pulled tightly over his head, his black gloves covering his fingers.
He wants you to get dolled up, though, like any other date. The cafe reminds Brian of his former life as an ordinary college student, pounding caffeine and shuffling through papers with his buddies.
Now he enjoys watching your little lip bites, your eyes scanning the menu as you decide what to drink, and the way your lipgloss coats the end of your straw as you take sips of it as he sits across from you. He doesn't say much in public, mostly listens while you talk instead.
"Hm."
"Mine's good, taste it."
Brian's reserved at first, but with you, he loves to have wild conversations. He enjoys talking hypotheticals and picking your brain.
Playing devil's advocate is his toxic trait, he'll do it even if he agrees with you, but he thinks you're adorable when you're flustered and a little irritated. You catch on once you recognize that sleazy smirk on his face, the one that slips when he's amused.
"Well, that's what you think."
"I'm fucking with you."
"You look so cute right now."
Infodumps about his interests, especially historical events, machinery and firearms, physiology, and psychology. He knowledgeable about political leaders and ideologies but not because he's heavily politically affiliated, solely due to fixation purposes.
Brian wouldn't call himself a cinemophile, but he can't help but dissect the movies and shows you guys watch together. It's how he enjoys them to the greatest extent honestly.
He's the kind of guy that craves a deep, full understanding and is committed to finding answers. He likes to hear your interpretation and perspective because it gives him insight on your psyche.
"You get what I'm saying?"
"Not sure when I learned that."
Pretty terrible about his vices- the years of college frat partying ripples into his current lifestyle. Brian's a dedicated stoner and tends pound a few beers when he's in the mood, which fluctuates from being rather often to not so much.
"I'm chilling."
"Needed that."
His tolerance is high but he ends up laughing a lot when he's really intoxicated. Brian also gets more affectionate as the world falls away around him. He brushes his fingertips along your skin if you're sitting down together, and pulling you in to feel your warmth and breath you in.
"Fuck, I'm kinda trashed."
Loves your neck- the softness, your smell, your heat. He buries his face in between your neck and your shoulder often and gives you little pecks or nibbles. Brian also loves your face, he'll cup your face tenderly, or squeeze your cheeks together with his hand, planting a kiss on your lips, combing your hair with his fingers.
"Is it hot in here?"
"I'm horny."
"Come here."
Brian's libido is a loaded gun. Look in his eyes too lovingly, his cheeks are already glowing red. Stroke his neck too tenderly, he's stiffening in his pants. Kiss him a tad too deeply, he's twitching and jerking in poor efforts to keep himself from snatching your body up in hands and pinning it somewhere for him to absolutely ruin you.
"Stay still."
"Fuckin' gushing for me, you're so easy babe."
He's big on ownership. Brian wants submission and admission, he'll coax it out of you with his humiliating remarks. It turns your insides to goo when he reads you to shame, how your body responds to his commanding touch, how you turn to hide your flustered face.
Brian groans out teasing quips as you thrash and whine on his cock- making you feel so full, those torturous drags of his length undoing you and putting you back together all over again.
"You can take it."
"Like putty in my hands."
Giving you devastating backshots because you're so easy to maneuver when you're being drilled from behind. Brian's got your wrists bound together on your back in just one of his hands, hips ramming into your ass with loud, resounding smacks.
He grins sickly at your flushed, wrangled body under him, a weak chuckle erupting from his throat at the vision of it. You let out a yelp at hearing him, eyes squeezing shut with embarrassment.
"Holy shit, you're beautiful."
The camcorder's idle spot on the nightstand was not a decision made unintentionally. Brian finds the power button and points the lens to where your bodies connect, capturing the obscenity of his cock spearing the slick folds of your cunt.
His arm extends past your head, panning the frame to focus on your fucked-out expression, his dreamy torso and the center of his waist meeting your ass with each snap of his hips in the background.
Brian's grips your face, his thumb breaching the gap in your lips and settling on your tongue. You gag softly at the intrusion, to which Brian growls satisfiedly that he's getting you looking so pathetic for him on tape.
"Like that, baby, doing so good."
"That's my slut."
"Lookin' so pretty taking my dick."
His fingers wrap your throat, squeezing just enough to send a rush of hazy warmth to your head. He's burying himself to the hilt with each mind-numbing thrust, both of your feral moans overlapping into a lewd, heaving symphony.
The twisted combination of Brian's cruel manipulation tactics with the pleasure of his fuck overwhelms your system, the tension in your gut snapping as you break on his cock, gushing and clenching over his shaft.
"You're all mine, you know that?"
"Say it to me."
"Fuuuck, gonna give it to you, baby."
Your climax drives Brian to his own peak and releases deep inside your sore, beaten raw cunt as he palms the back of your head, locking you into a possessive, suffocating kiss. He drops his forehead to make contact with yours, the hollow space between his front teeth peeking through the sliver of his smirk.
"I fuckin' love you, honey."
"You're stuck with me."
🜏[regards... i can't express how badly i need this man. it's an affliction. these hc posts for tim and brian have been in drafts for a min, needed to get them out bc i have so many things to work on with my one-shot wips, kinktober, and my first fic series concept that i just conceived last night with brian ahhh. locking in chat...]
