#and really all that does also burn down to people just really being unable to be normal about intersex bodies

[xiaowhore]

playing hard to get [pt. 3]

premise. he delighted in being the object of your affections. the apple of your eye, your dearest treasure, your one and only darling—

so why aren't you acting like it now?

(or, in which he takes his admirer's love for granted until you decide to play hard-to-get.)

includes. ayato & heizou !

part one. diluc, xiao & childe.

part two. zhongli, albedo & kazuha.

note. i send snippets of wips and post something entirely different. oops. also this is extremely long compared to prior chapters (my favoritism is showing).

ayato dreads arranged marriages. even now, as the yashiro commissioner who understands the importance of forging political alliances, the thought of it is distasteful. presently, he has no person in his heart he'd rather marry, but that doesn't mean he finds the idea of pursuing a loveless relationship agreeable.

so when he first meets you, he's a little surprised. you're fidgety just like he is, but it isn't out of agitated worry; you look excited, can almost be described enthusiastic for the deal.

ridiculous, ayato thinks. you must be one of those shallow people easily wooed by appearances. he knows he's dashing, but he never liked anyone who's only drawn to that part of himself, and he doubts that will change in the future.

(still, as the marriage talk progresses between ayato and your parents, he finds himself distracted by the way you blow on your hot cup of tea, scrunching your nose when it burns your tongue. the moment you notice him staring however, you quickly switch gears and duck your head down in panic, reviewing etiquette lessons in your mind and trying to remember if blowing on your tea is a form of disrespect.)

(cute.)

(no it isn't, what are you thinking.)

ayato doesn't have the free time to afford frequent visits. most of the time, you're the one visiting the kamisato estate, often unable to see him and ayaka receives your presence instead. in the few chances you do catch him in a good time, conversations over tea and pastries are awkward and strained, made even worse by ayato's unwillingness to reply in a sentence longer than five words. he doesn't want you to get any closer to him, and perhaps you'll finally lose interest if he keeps up this charade.

(but sometimes, just sometimes, really, he'll gift you tea leaves he procured from foreign lands. they cost a hefty price, but he always puts a frown on your face, and if they bring back just a quick upturn of your lips, he'll consider it a successful apology.)

yet when you lose interest in him, he isn't very ecstatic.

he should be. you send less letters recently, and your visits to the estate even lesser. there's no attendant knocking on his door alerting him of your presence to interrupt his flow of work, and there's no guest he's obligated to entertain. most importantly, there's nobody he's obligated to marry.

(that doesn't stop him from worrying. doesn't make him feel any better. doesn't make him any less disappointed even when this result was what he was hoping for.)

eventually, rumors start to circulate. they say you're now besotted with a lord in the south, often spotted strolling around together and conversing over shared meals. they say you've fallen out of love for the yashiro commissioner you once begged your parents to let you marry, disillusioned by his stoic nature devoid of affection. they say you much rather prefer the romantic lord gifting you pretty robes and fragrant perfumes, finding comfort in his lavish sweetness opposed to ayato's cold indifference.

for that, he can't fault you at all. this... lord seems to court you properly. what rights does he have to be angry when he's done nothing to deserve your attention? besides, it's a win-win for everybody—ayato doesn't have to go through the arranged marriage he couldn't refuse due to your father's persistence, and you can be wed to a man who's genuinely fond of you, eager to treat you well.

still. still. these irrational thoughts keep plaguing his mind, ugly feelings blooming in his chest when images of you with another man settle in the corners of his subconscious. it's difficult to focus when you could be elsewhere locking hands with someone other than him, cheery laughter spilling from your lips as dappled sunlight makes you glow gold. you could be elsewhere wrapped in another man's embrace, protected from the chilly wind within his heat as he whispers sweet nothings to your ear. you could be...

you could be perfectly happy without him.

ayato hasn't spent much time with you, if at all. you didn't have any meaningful conversations, any beautiful memories you could look back on.

but that was because he didn't give you a chance to. he chose to disregard your existence, deliberately avoided reciprocating your efforts to connect. he didn't see you for who you were, he looked at you as the person he wanted you to be—someone vile, someone shallow, someone easy to despise.

and no matter how many rumors there are reporting how you supposedly begged your parents to establish an arranged marriage between you and ayato, he knew better: you should've been as miserable as he was about it. you never asked to get married either.

at first, he thought you already fell in love with him the first time you saw him; your eyes were sparkling with joy. but now that he thinks about it, perhaps you were just relieved you weren't about to get married to someone twice your age. he looked fairly decent, far from the horrific men you'd hear about disrespecting their spouses when they marry into the family. if it was him, known for his fair ruling in his territory, being married probably wouldn't be too bad.

and ayato had fantastically ruined that impression of himself by being the biggest dickwad possible.

so he hastily makes his move—he sends flowers to your doorstep, writes heartfelt letters referencing love poems. he still doesn't have the time to visit in person, but he gives you jewelry and hairpins he thinks would look good on you and hopes he can see you wearing them the next time you meet. he recalls every piece of information you've shared with him and gifts you books you expressed interest for in the few times you talked, presents you with tea leaves you once told him you wanted to try but haven't gotten an opportunity to due to its rarity.

ayato knows best how rumors tend to exaggerate the subject matter. surely, your relationship with the lord hasn't progressed too far. you've yet to call off the engagement, but ayato shouldn't be complacent either. he should make his intentions clear—he's not giving up on you.

after two weeks of this charade, you rush to the kamisato estate, red-faced and flustered and considerably confused. ayato smiles at the blue crystals adorning your bracelet, familiar with its design. (he picked it out himself, after all.)

“i apologize for my... absence,” you can't find the proper words to say it, gaze flitting from one place to another. you find it difficult to meet his eyes. no matter; ayato finds that shyness cute, too. “i was preoccupied– but!”

your formal tone disappears immediately as you hasten to say, “please don't listen to the rumors about me! i really, really haven't been seeing someone else!”

...???

“i'm very sorry for failing to include in my letters the details about the festival our territory celebrates.” at this, you bow deeply, thus missing the dumbfounded expression on his face, looking incredibly stupid. “in truth, i've been busy with preparations the past month... the lord i've been meeting with is known for the silks his household provides, and we commissioned him our clothes for the festival rites. he's very knowledgeable about perfumes as well, he gave me samples of- oh, i have some on me i thought ayaka might like! of course, i have some for you too, but i can't guarantee you'll like it...” you wince at that, smile turning sheepish. “i did try my best basing off your preferences, but i apologize if it isn't to your satisfaction.”

numbly, he gestures for a servant to accept the gift, fixing his expression into something more blank rather than an obvious display of his thoughts. his very, very messy thoughts, the few he can manage to think amidst the pure shock at the revelation. “i... i see. i appreciate the thought.”

you fidget at his robotic way of speaking, feeling awkward. “did you perhaps... believe the rumors?”

his heart breaks when your voice trails off at the end of your sentence, shrinking to yourself in shame. “absolutely not,” he says. you know, like a liar.

“then that's a relief!” your lips stretch to a relieved smile, punching another spike of guilt to his chest. “i feared you would think lowly of me.”

“ridiculous,” he states, tone unwavering. it takes you slightly aback, and warmth bleeds into his next words, coaxing a deeper red to tint your ears, “i like you a lot more than you think.”

oh, you have no idea.

it doesn't take a detective to know you have a massive crush on heizou.

the way you can't meet his gaze, the flush high on your cheeks, the nervous stutter in your words when you invite him for a stroll around town; heizou would have to be an idiot not to notice. unfortunately for you, he is far from one, so he notices every stare you pin to his figure, every quiver of your lips as you fight back a smile when he looks back, every sign of your elation as he makes his presence known.

and, well. maybe it is a little amusing to watch you squirm. heizou doesn't consider himself a cruel man, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy seeing you worked up because of him.

he wonders what you find so charming. pursuing romance has never been a high priority for him, flaunting his appealing traits to potential partners lesser so, and as honorable chasing after criminals can be, he doesn't think anyone would find that attractive in the romantic sense.

more often than not, he's told to be too dedicated in his job, which he would normally take as a compliment, thank you very much, but he does see how it could be a flaw as a spouse. it's pretty much general knowledge he can't guarantee his undivided attention for anyone, even his special person (that he's not very eager to find right now).

once, you commented as such, teasing him he won't be able to get a significant other at this rate. jokes on you—from what heizou can see, you're a willing volunteer now.

before, though, was entirely different. in fact, you couldn't even call yourselves friends until just recently. your interactions were hardly noteworthy, simply exchanging cordial greetings when you ran into each other on the road or sharing the briefest conversations if the situation called for it.

you only became proper friends when you got involved in one of heizou's cases and helped him through it. turns out you were extremely compatible all along, to the extent heizou regretted not befriending you earlier. you're bubbly and cheerful, always making him laugh when you crack the most unexpected of jokes. even in companionable silence, he felt a little brighter and optimistic—you were like a positive ball of sunshine, a great pal to have.

so he received the shock of a lifetime when he first began to notice signs of your budding crush.

your easy-going smiles looked tighter, eyes not quite focused on his face, hands fidgeting behind your back. at the start, heizou thought maybe you did something wrong, or you were hiding something from him...

then you were blushing, asking him if he was free after work. heizou is ashamed to admit his brain had gone completely blank that time, truly empty with the exception of your face flashing in his mind, holy fuck, you're blushing, you've never done that before.

he doesn't remember his response. still can't, even now. but what he does remember is how your face lit up when he said something, eyes sparkly with enthusiasm. you talked about some trendy restaurant that just opened around the block but heizou could hardly hear your explanation over the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. the new revelation had his blood rushing, and he really, really didn't know what to think of you.

weeks later, he finds you cute.

the initial panic wore off and now he enjoys seeing you flail around. you're cute when you're clumsy, tripping over air when you make eye contact with him. you're cute when you get embarrassed, woken up by heizou when you accidentally fall asleep on his shoulder. you're cute when you're shy, stammering as you offer to walk home together.

you're cute, and heizou has to do something about that soon.

not once has he thought to distance himself from you upon realizing your feelings. sure, it felt awkward at the beginning, but if there was something he was certain of, it was that he didn't want to lose you. now, he wanted to be closer than ever, the closest he's ever been to another person.

apparently, you didn't get the memo because you're the one distancing yourself from him.

it's not hard to guess what you're thinking. you're probably getting worried you're being too obvious about your feelings, missing all the blatant signs that point to heizou feeling the same, and feeling the very delayed horror of being rejected.

no, seriously. it's very delayed. you're supposed to be scared first before you think of hitting on someone. all of your concerns are void anyway; heizou has known about your crush ages ago.

you're surprisingly good at hiding. heizou has been missing you by a hair, all of his acquaintances claiming to see you some time around the day conveniently when he isn't present. there are traces of you everywhere, trails from your favorite snack stall to the bookstore you frequent to the flower fields you help take care of, but he could never catch you on time. his frustration is nearly overriding his rationality, even though he knows for a fact putting up wanted posters of your face would be a bad, bad idea.

fine, he thinks. i'll lure you out myself.

and that, he does.

one of the few things he first learned about you is your curiosity; when a mystery piques your interest, you won't rest easy until it's solved. that's why you began to follow him around, watching him dig through secrets and piece together deductions. you have a fascination with the unknown, and heizou knows best how to take advantage of it.

he leaves bait, a simple riddle scrawled on a sticky note posted on your office desk to make you scratch your head. when you take it too lightly and ignore it, he steals your prized hairpin—a birthday gift he gave you a year ago—as a warning. in panic, you provide a correct answer, and the very next day, the hairpin is back on your table, together with a brand new barrette considerably nicer in quality.

the next mysteries continue in a similar pattern; a reward for the right answer, a punishment for the wrong one. he makes you solve puzzles, decipher secret code, unravel riddles—each time, you complain about the work and your determination not to seek out heizou for help chips away, but you've never showed any indication of conceding defeat. you're determined to find the “thief” who's always threatening to rob your possessions if you don't play along his silly games and confront him once and for all.

finally, heizou is finished preparing his greatest puzzle yet—a grand treasure hunt encompassing the entire town. it's a big project involving a large number of people, some of which have probably caught onto his intentions, but heizou wills away his embarrassment; if he lets his shame get to him, then nothing will change.

he's had enough of playing hide and seek.

and as your hand grips the final letter, eyes sweeping over the provocative message, the clock ticks closer to the grand finale—

“i have one last trick; don't worry, if you're lucky, it'll end quick.

beneath the stars, find the treasure by nine. if you fail to catch the prize, i will take back what is mine.”

(a worthless threat—how could he take back his heart that's always been yours?)

[comicaurora]

You often talk about not being a fan of misery porn, extra gorey scenes or grimdark stuff but you're also a big fan of Netflix Castlevania. Do you think that show lacks these aspects or are they done in a way that doesn't put you off?

It's weird. I didn't expect to like it, for all the reasons you stated. But Castlevania pulled off Dark Fantasy in a way I wasn't expecting, and I think what made it work was the protagonists.

Trevor is a standard-issue dark fantasy miseryguts on first appearance, but the crucial detail is he starts the story at his emotional darkest hour and goes up from there. He's drunk and broke and miserable and he kind of hates everybody - but, and this is critical, he still does the right thing. He makes a perfect foil to Dracula, who experienced very similar heartbreak and decided to work out his grief by burning the world down. Trevor's family and legacy was destroyed by the church and the ignorance of scared, normal people, just like Lisa Tepes was. Trevor being worn down to the bone, miserable and isolated, and still at his core being unable to abandon innocents to die, is not a grimdark concept. It's sneakily a very hopeful one, and, crucially, the story rewards him for trying.

This, of course, leads to Sypha entering the story when Trevor rescues her from the cyclops, and Sypha is a complete breath of fresh air in the story so far. She's unburdened by the angst and tragedy that weighs on Trevor - which is why he, at one point, describes her as a hero while he is not. Sypha and Trevor do equally heroic activities, but Sypha has the hero attitude while Trevor just does it as a job (and a bone-deep sense of justice he refuses to admit is there). Sypha is cheerful, curious and more than willing to crack jokes at Trevor's expense, while still seeming grounded and sensible enough to avoid feeling like a manic pixie dream girl. As we learn more about her, it becomes clear that part of the reason she feels so much less miserable than everyone around her is because of her ludicrously powerful magic that means she doesn't need to worry so much about the rains of hellspawn and nightmare chimeras in the woods and stuff. Sypha also works as a mirror to Lisa, in that they are both educated women who understand the importance of community-maintenance and use their knowledge to help people around them, even at the cost of being seen as a witch. Even though she goes through some heavy stuff, she also retains her hopeful and heroic demeanor and goes beyond just saving people's lives - she actively works to help them rebuild so they can do more than just survive. This is, again, antithetical to the supposed grimdark of the setting.

Alucard is kind of in a story of his own and plays the tragic hero tropes a lot more straight, but that's why he's not the only protagonist. Trevor and Sypha foil off him, mostly by taking the piss and allowing him to lighten up a bit. Alucard probably has the bleakest worldview of the trio, feeling utterly isolated by his half-vampire nature and really only saving humanity on the principle that "Lisa would not approve of genocide in her name." The story makes it clear that his Lone Tragic Hero thing is actively deeply unhealthy and also very unsexy, and he's at his happiest (and sexiest) when he has friends and loved ones around to support him and make sure he showers.

Over and over again the story drives home that saving lives is necessary heroism, but so is saving knowledge and teaching people how to live better lives, because the ultimate goal of the story is to fulfill Lisa's dream of a better world - where people won't be sick and scared all the time. That concept is anti-grimdark. And the rules of the story reward this endeavor over and over again. Not everyone they try to save survives, and not every heroic attempt ends in victory - Lisa died trying to fulfill that dream, after all - but the dream is bigger than any one person, and every attempt has tangible lasting consequences that make the world just a bit better and inspire other people to carry the dream forward. Hidden in this dark, bloody, "everyone says fuck now" fantasy story is an unbelievably hopeful message about how one can actually go about saving the world.

And what really clinched it for me was how the show ended. It goes out of its way to bend logic and luck to reward all of our heroes for trying so hard to save the world when it would have been legitimately easier to end on a bittersweet note. This show essentially proves that it's possible to take the aesthetic of grimdark too-cool-for-school fantasy and then use it to tell an actually hopeful story where the main characters act like real people who aren't selfish assholes. Because while "realism = everyone is a selfish, petty asshole" is a tempting trope, it's more accurate to say that "realism = some people are selfish, petty assholes". It's ridiculous to act like the real world has no selfless, kind people in it.

So yea, highly recommend. Even Season 3, the comparative weak link and overall darkest point, is well worth watching.

[shibe-myths]

The court of Rosea

@coeluvr

I think this'll be my last update on this sketch. Sadly, I can't finish editing this work without my app committing death. Haha, It happens after 400 layers. But, hey, at least it got the general vibe, right? :P

Members of Court from left to right we have:

Asha the Frog. (Note: I'm deathly afraid of frogs IRL. But I found ONE frog species I could withstand looking at and It's this bubble-eyed bb. Obviously, I love the in-game Asha and her color-changing ways. But God am I terrified of the concept of cat-sized frogs.)

Fadiya Akter.

My MC, Vesper. Whom I UNINTENTIONALLY named Vesper De Vesphire.

Hunter Oakes.

Helios De Rosea.

Luceris De Rosea. (I gave him back a bit of his hairline- but he is on thin ice)

Lancelot!

Vincent Annora

Missing from the Picture (but whom were originally sketched out include: Ikram, Naima, Sadira, and Qasim -pls make one or both of them our shield I beg of you.)

Below the Spoilers is some easter eggs and tid bits about this sketch. (Hidden meanings and all that)

The Windows (Starting from the left to the right):

The marriage of Luceris and the MC. This most definitely wouldn't be something I would expect to be in the Palace proper but I imagine a great deal of artists would find ways to dramatize the 'wedding'.

This window depicts the past- namely the burning of the Vesphire Palace. I know you can't see it thanks to the FOUR people covering it. But I did include a mountainous castle with a town, both set to the torch. Including scenes of bloodshed. 1. The window is open, with the cold of Vesphire seeping into the court in the form of icicles and snow.

This window depicts the future. At the time I was drawing this one- Chapter 2 was technically still not out. AND BABES it was the Palace being set aflame. I just- can't!!!! hAHAHA. Anyways, it's completely covered up by Luceris AND Lancelot's body. 2. Like the other window depicting the past, this window is also open. Unfortunately, I couldn't include the smoke that was supposed to be rising from the back. (Hence the strange lighting effect on that side of the room.) It was supposed to signify the poison set by those characters' actions. But, alas. Sketchbook Pro has to be a brat.

Window four depicts the 'Farah poisoned by Catalina' scenario. Except there are cracks in the picture. The full story is not there. Did Catalina really poison Farah? If so, why did she immediately disappear without a trace? Where is she now? 1. If you look closely- I gave Farah the dead Anime mom Haircut- and no, I am NOT taking it back. We all get to live with this information. 2. Catalina and Vesper also bear a striking resemblance. Wearing the exact same dress as one another in both of their respective Stain glass windows. This is brought up MULTIPLE times within Coe's story. So i just wanted to make it even more obvious.

Vesper and Helios.

Why isn't Luceris the one sitting down? Why is Helios holding the MC's wrist? Why does Helios look so pissed? Haha, well babes, this is what I like to call an artistic representation. Neither Helios or Vesper (my MC for Coeluvr's game) are being portrayed as themselves. Instead, they are both being showcased as the embodiments of their kingdoms, Rosea and Vesphire.

Vesphire is ensnared by Rosea. Trapped. Unable to escape.

Likewise, the MC, Vesper, is JUST barely touching the throne. So close to those who destroyed their life. Yet too far from true freedom

Meanwhile Helios, or in this case, Rosea is the only one able to sit, to relax. They are the one with control in this situation.

[problematicturtle]

Ugh this episode:

The show is a masterclass in toxicity and abuse. Lestat, six years of love bombing. Six years. Finally breaking through with one small, perfect thing. Is it the vampire bond? Is it love? Can Louis still not say he loves Lestat? And why? Would that make that crawling sensation that he’s complicit in all the misery heaped upon him more real? Maybe it would.

When is a monster not s monster? Oh, when you love him.

But they are all monsters here: they care nothing for human life, nothing for someone like Antoinette. Poor Antoinette - even if she wanted to leave Lestat, leaving him would mean she’s outlived her usefulness, and Antoinette seems very much like she wants to not die. No one cares about her though. Not Claudia, not Louis, certainly not Lestat. She’s a pawn in the grand game of chess they’re playing. How perfectly awful to be her. At least Louis gets the dubious distinction of being the one Lestat actually loves. But what do you get for that love to he heaped relentlessly upon you.

He had a way about him. Oh, I’m sure he did.

Sam Reid is excellently cast, perfectly played. He’s charming and ruthless and vicious and soft and pretty and you understand why Louis keeps going back. Unable to handle Claudia’s sternness during the making up conversation: looking to Louis, how dare she? Louis not being able to meet his eyes because Louis won’t be able to make those demands. But also: Lestat finally relaying the cruelty of how it was he was made. What horrors he went through. Alone and victimized and made into a killer against his will: how did you end up here, Lestat, making prisoners of your own. Do we all end up like our makers? Maybe we do. How tragic for everyone involved, then.

Also the cloud gift, and asking if Lestat had anything to do with Paul’s death. That’s pretty hurtful to hear, I imagine, for a lover to hear that. But you did throw him off a cloud, Lestat. He should have died, the same way Paul died, falling. Does Louis think of Paul when he thinks of falling now, or of Lestat.

Claudia reacts to being caged with disdain and spite, and a plan to free herself. Louis retreats into his own cage and removes himself entirely from the situation.

Are you happy, Lestat? You get a shell of the man you claim to love. Louis dreams of falling, surely, your face looking down at him as he hits the ground.

Poor Claudia too. She isn’t allowed to leave, just like Antoinette. But Lestat doesn’t even give her a choice In that matter: hey, I checked in with that guy that raped you, man he really enjoyed it. Thinks of you often. How terrible for you, sweet Claudia. Disobey me and I will do worse.

Of all the awful little things in this episode, this hurt me so bad.

But also: Louis couldn’t pick an apple.

I mean, where is the lie.

Louis, you lay down in your misery and leave others to rescue you or suffer in defeat; Again, this is not a life, Louis. Depression is crippling, to be sure. Louis has lost everyone and everything, and is not made to be a vampire, this is true. But life doesn’t always give you want you want; it is what it is. Louis still wants Lestat, for all that he has done. Does his overwhelming love make you feel alive, Louis? Is this how you live with that decision you made in that church? But how much choice did Lestat give you in any of it, Louis?

How much choice does Lestat give anyone in his life.

Maybe Louis doesn’t want to say he loves you because you are not worthy of his love, Lestat. Maybe being casually cruel and a brat to the people you claim to care for isn’t the way to get the love you so desperately crave. Maybe telling the man you claim to love you will do what it takes to make the relationship work while refusing to end it with the woman he explicitly told you to end it with, and want him to find out about it because you can’t stand having limits set on your behavior, isn’t how you become someone worthy of love.

I want Lestat to burn. I also love him deeply, like Louis, and. I want them to be together forever.

So then, burn. And maybe in rebirth, maybe he can actually get his act together and be a vampire worthy of their love.

Also: young Daniel *and* present day Daniel / Louis, 100 percent would read. Daniel thirsty for Louis two minutes after they meet is I mean, you know. Not unexpected. Everyone wants Louis, is probably the main problem with Louis.

Rashid is a vampire, to no-one’s surprise.

[erodasfishtacos]

ST. PAUL

Please like, comment, recommend, reblog, and come talk to me if you enjoyed the piece.

I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. (plus my bday is coming up in a two days) 😌

warnings: smut, daddy kink, 18+

—

Harry loves being the center of attention.

It’s really no surprise at this point that he enjoys when tens of thousands of people are watching him perform.

He also secretly loves that people love his wife as well. He swore sometimes he thinks his wife is more popular than him during tour.

YN was didn’t come out from backstage to stand and watch the show right away like she usually did - she was working through some merch issues with Jeff.

Harry noticed that the fans were continuously looking back to where his wife would usually stand for the show.

Between one of the sets, Harry goes about ready some of the posters that fans have brought and he huffs out a faux affronted remark as he reads one out loud.

“I’m only here for your hot wife.”

He jokingly glares at the fan as the crowds laughs, “M’gonna have t’have a talk with security about these posters! Y’hitting on m’wife in front me! She’s not even out here, tough luck mate.”

Then he shimmies away as another song comes on.

A few minutes later, a sign pops up that says, “I want to taste YN’s watermelon sugar.”

Harry gives the person holding the sign a look of disbelief and shakes his head in disapproval at the poster before turning away.

“Should I text him?”

Harry reads from a fan’s board, he holds up his left hand and wriggles his ring finger that is donned in his wedding band, “Y’asking the wrong person, love. I’ve been locked down f’eleven years, don’t know much about the new age of dating!”

He goes on to say, “My only advice is if he’s playing games - don’t do it. Trash, trash, trash. Not for you.”

When YN finally arrives to her usual spot, everyone tries to get a glimpse from where they’re at. It was a thing, everyone wants to not only get a glimpse of Harry Styles’ wife but also her outfit.

There were hundreds of instagram accounts now dedicated to their matching tour outfits.

The short dress she was wearing was made of the same material and color as his shirt *** and she looked stunning as always.

The singer notices all of the attention dart to the side of the arena, where he also spots his beautiful wife smiling with Glenne as they go to their usual spot.

When She ends, Harry walks down the catwalk with a exaggerated pout on his face, giving his wife a pointed look, “I just want to remind everyone, this show’s about me! I’m quite the narcissist so I know m’wife is gorgeous but we’re here f’me!”

The crowd erupts in laughter and playful ‘boos’ as a dimply smile spreads on his face as he adjust his in-ears.

YN bites the inside of her lip, holding back her own giggles at her husband’s boyish antics before she joins along in the boos.

“Alright, alright, no booing me now,” Harry titters like the comedian he is, “Just remindin’ y’who this is all about. Me! But let’s give a round of applause to m’wife who deals with the narcissism on a daily basis!”

The arena does so, thousands of fans capturing their interaction on their phones for people to coo over later.

YN rolls her eyes, laughing at some Glenne says before and then Harry is starting his next song with a few glances over to her until they meet eyes and he blows her a kiss which she returns.

And then a poster pops up in the pit that Harry knows he has to snag - gets a brilliant idea so he asks the fan to pass it forward.

He props his mic back into its stand before turning the poster around and showing it to his wife on the side.

“Show us your tits, respectfully.”

YN flips him off with a giggle before teasing at the collar of her dress which makes Harry’s jaw drop dramatically and he gives her a surprised look before shaking his head. ***

“Don’t y’dare flash the goods! I’m just jokin’ around, this is a family show….” He pauses before prompting the crowd, “Or is it?”

As he performs Lights Up, YN steps forward to the barricade to call over one of the fan who is awestruck as she stumbles over to YN.

“Could I borrow your sign?” YN asks the fan - who was dressed in a sequined suit that looked amazing and she had to compliment her on that too.

“Uh…yeah. He-here,” The girl stutters nervously, passing over the posterboard with shaky hands at meeting YN.

She was sooooo pretty up close, smelled like chanel number five, and smiled warmly enough to make the fan feel comfort.

“Thanks, I’ll give it right back,” YN assures her, stepping back over to Glenne, they giggle together before YN holds it over her head.

“Choke Me Daddy.”

Harry spots it in a mere minute, reading it over and unable to hide the moody, dark expression that flashes across his face before he covers it up by looking elsewhere.

Just the reaction she wanted.

Harry stay away from that side of the stage for a little, YN knows it’s to prevent a very public boner from her behavior.

YN hands it back, agrees to take a few pictures with the girl and her friends before they go back to enjoy the concert.

-

The girl who lent her the sign goes on to make tiktoks about the meeting.

“She was super nice and giggly.”

“She let us take a ton of selfies.”

“When she held it up, Harry like instantly got pissed or turned on or something because he gave her this look and it was intense.”

“Harry was staring at her like the whole concert after she held up that sign.”

“It seemed like YN was purposefully ignoring his signals to make him even more annoyed.”

“Her ring was so pretty.”

“I couldn’t tell who was more attractive, Harry or YN, I think they’re literally the hottest couple alive.”

-

When the concert ends, Harry bolts off stage - waving and blowing kisses to his adoring fans before disappearing into the back.

YN is waiting patiently by the entry, where she usually was, her stomach was tight and bracing for her husband’s reaction.

She wanted to play.

They both knew it.

Hell, the whole arena had known she wanted it.

And to her absolute disappointment, Harry arrives back stage and pulls her into a tight hug. He pulls back gently to kiss her with his large palm cupping her face.

“Hi baby, m’exhuasted. I’ll shower at the hotel,” Harry rasps, peppering a few more soft kisses before intertwining their fingers.

YN has to hide her disappointment that it wasn’t Harry coming back stage, shoving her into his dressing room, and giving it to her hard for the sign she held up.

Nope, during the ride to the hotel, he was cuddly and like a puppy - whining until YN massaged his neck and allowed him to lay his head in her lap.

He doesn’t bring up the sign, just relaxes quietly until they get to the hotel and then just grabs her hand to lead her to their room.

YN tries to settle down the itchy arousal in her belly when Harry goes to shower.

She changes out of her dress into one of Harry’s shirts and goes about folding and organizing both of their suitcases.

After the shower stops, YN hears Harry moves around for a moment until he’s opening the bathroom door.

“Do you want to order room service? I’m star-“

She’s cut off when her husband’s hand reaches down and intertwines into her hair - gentle by firmly pulling her to stand by it and tugging her back into his hard chest.

“Harr-“

“I don’t think so, baby. I think s’daddy, yeah?” Harry hisses against the shell of her ear, “Do y’think I’d forget about y’holding up a sign that said choke me daddy?”

It’s easy for her to slip in a fuzzier, submissive state because she knows her husband will keep her safe and always take care of her.

“You showed that sign fir-“ YN begins to argue back but Harry pulls at her hair to silence her.

“Y’want t’argue or do you want t’be a good girl f’daddy?” Harry asks lowly, his voice threaten and void of any of his normal warmth, “I think ten is a good number, hm? Ten t’your arse?”

“But-“ YN loved to push him, she wanted those ten but she also liked to rile Harry up which was even better when he was adrenaline high from a show.

“Say ‘yes daddy’ or I’ll add five,” He warns, his voice had a delicious rasp from singing and he wraps his hand into her thong and rips it - making her yelp as the elastic snaps against her skin.

YN’s heart is pounding out of her chest, usually she was the one who took Harry by surprise - not the other way around.

Her skin was aching already from the brush burn of the fabric being torn from her sensitive skin, scalp pulsing from the tension on her hair.

“You were so obvious on stage, H. Once I held up that sign, your face gave everything away - that you’re so easy f’me - it’s embarrassing. I’ve been locked down for eleven years,” She imitates his accent in a bratty bite.

Harry snaps, nearly picking her up as he manhandles her over to the large hotel bed and she finds herself on her belly with Harry landing a hard slap to her right cheek.

“Y’think you’re s’fuckin’ cute? Don’t act like it doesn’t get y’soaked seeing all those fans cry f’me and I come home t’you,” He chuckles meanly, “And y’want to call me desperate? Look in the mirror, love.”

YN wriggles a bit but doesn’t have much time before the second and third hit with his rings still on - making it hurt even more.

“Count f’me, sweetheart,” Harry hums, thumbing open her cheeks to lean down and teasing lick her tighter entrance before letting go to land the fourth one.

“F-four,” She chokes out, feeling herself drip onto the sheets and her nipples tighten against the cotton fabric of the shirt she still has on.

“Four what.”

The air in the room is thick, humid as she mumbles against the pillows, “Four daddy.”

“Louder.”

“Four, s’four daddy,” YN moans, tacking on the fifth to her words when he lands on her left cheek and she can tell how sore she’ll be in the morning already.

“Gonna give me fifteen, baby? Or are y’done?” His voice is cautious, checking in to see where she’s at - if they add five more that means she really wants to play. If he stops at five, they both know that means she only wanted to be roughed up a little bit for the night.

“More, please.” YN gasps, shaking her bum in his face before it’s caught with the hardest hit yet and she yelps in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

After they reach fifteen, Harry is flipping her on her back and tugging her shirt off until her breasts spill out and he tugs roughly at a nipple.

“Daddy, please, please,” She whines, her thighs were damp and she was absolutely pulsating for his touch on her.

“I think I deserve an apology f’your behavior tonight,” He whispers against her puffy lips, his cock slipping against her mound lazily, “Desperate f’me even in front of tens of thousands of people. It’s quite cute, darling.”

“Fuck me, fuck me,” YN presses her lips to his eagerly, moaning when he slips between her folds and his tip bumps against her clit.

“Y’have no fuckin’ manners, pet. I think I’ve spoiled y’too much,” Harry admonishes with faux disappoint, pulling back until their centers aren’t touching and landing a smack to her mound.

Then he’s reaching down to thumb at her bud with a relentless pleasure but as soon as she starts to lift her hips into the feeling - he pulls away and tucks two fingers up inside her - repeats that quite a few times.

She felt like she was on fire, she needed him so badly that she wasn’t able to take much more of the teasing.

They usually played for longer, hours sometimes but on tour - it was hard to, both of them bone-tired and knowing they have to get up early and do it again tomorrow.

Harry knows his wife like the back of his hand, knows when she needs more and when she’s hit her limit for the night.

When he sees hot, fat tears spilling from the corner of her eyes, lips full and swollen, and she’s mewling, “Daddy.”

He knows she’s nearly at her limit, he slips inside her with no resistance and has to push for a moment because it feels that euphoric.

“Baby, fuck. Always feel s’fuckin’ good. This body was made f’me, yeah? S’addicitng, s’warm and tight,” Harry praises his wife, kissing her before tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth.

“S’for you, all of it. Ha-Daddy, I’m so close already, do it - c’mon,” She begs, legs wrapping around his narrow waist and pressing her heels into his bum.

They both know what she wants but he wants to hear her say it.

“C’mon, tell me. Say it and I’ll give it t’you,” He rumbles as he thrusts in with loud, smacking noises echoing through the room.

She blinks up at him with twinkling doe eyes, a small smirk on the side of her lips, as she says in a kittenish voice, “Choke me, daddy.”

And like that, his hand is collaring her throat and lightly pressing down until her breathe catches in her throat.

“Come f’me, m’desperate lil’ thing. All those people with those nasty signs and all I can think about it y’perfect cunt,” He murmurs in her ears, pressing just a bit more and then just like clockwork - she tenses and begins to come and he lightens his grip and releases when he follows soon after her.

-

👀👀👀👀👀

[clonesimpextra]

Needs and Wants

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader Word Count: 833 Rating: Explicit (18+ Only) Summary: You and Wolffe enjoy a brief moment of pleasure before being interrupted. A/N: Slowly warming up to writing more steamy scenes with Wolffe before I get to it in my multi-chapter, slow burn fic, A Shattered Peace. Also trying to get more comfortable with writing xReader. Enjoy!

“We’ve really got to stop doing this.”

Wolffe huffs out a laugh. “That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago, mesh’la.”

You roll your eyes, unable to keep your lips from quirking up slightly. “You know what I mean, smart ass.”

Wolffe turns to his side to face you, head propped up on his hand, “I don’t actually.”

When you glare over at him, he continues. “There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing. It’s just sex. We both know that.”

You bit your lip and look just over Wolffe’s head at the durasteel wall of your quarters on the Triumphant. That’s the problem, you think, it’s not just sex to me. Not anymore. 

But you can’t say that because there are rules to this. There are agreements the two of you made months ago when you started using each other for stress relief and rare, brief moments of pleasure amidst a war that took and took and took. 

You had both needed it then.

But you weren’t quite sure when your need for Wolffe’s body had turned into want for his entire self. 

You only knew that lately, when you looked into his warm golden eyes as he pushed himself further inside you, reaching depths you’d never manage on your own, your mind, instead of emptying into pure bliss, filled with thoughts and feelings you didn’t know what to do with.

Maybe. Maybe if you were just a regular person, one of the people the boys always talked about at 79s, you could give in to that want. 

But you’re a Jedi. Wolffe is your co-commander. And you are both responsible for far more than your own lives. 

Neither of you have the luxury of giving in to your wants. Only your needs. 

Or at least, that’s how you’ve continued to excuse every moment spent with Wolffe’s cock deep in your body, filling you better than anyone ever could. 

Or his tongue circling your clit, pulling sounds from you that you didn’t know you could make. 

Or his teeth on your body, marking you in places no one but he could see.

Or his arm across your breasts, holding you up against chest, all but growling in your ear about how good you felt, how good he was going to make you feel, as he pounded into you with the determination of a man who knew he’d get what he wanted.

Was this all he wanted?

You feel Wolffe’s eyes on you now and you know you’re taking too long to respond. Any moment one of your comms will go off, Master Plo or someone else calling you both back to a reality that has everything to do with your upcoming mission to Khorm and nothing to do with the way your heart pounds under your co-commander's gaze.

You don’t have time for this. 

So you do what you know how to do best: you push everything back into the corner of your mind until you can pretend that you’re letting it go. 

You smirk at Wolffe and lean closer to his face, your breath a whisper against his mouth. “Want to remind me of that?”

You don’t have time. You both know you don’t have time. But that doesn’t stop the barely audible groan from Wolffe’s chest, or the twitching of his cock when you ghost your hand up his length.

Just as you’re about to throw caution to the wind and duck your head down past his stomach to see just how fast you can get him hard again, the shrill sound of your comms pierce the room.

Wolffe does groan loudly then, annoyed as his head falls back against the pillow.

You laugh and pat his stomach, eyeing his hardening length. “Looks like this is gonna be painful for you, Commander. Sorry I can’t help you out. Again.”

Wolffe scoffs and looks down at you, ignoring the beep of the comms. “Pretty sure it was me helping you, Commander.”

You shrug and climb over him, grinning at the hiss that leaves his mouth when your leg brushes against him. “Either way. I’m not the one who has to stuff that under a cod-piece.” 

Wolffe glares at you as you pick up your beeping comm from the floor.

“Don’t worry,” you wink at him, “I’ll make up for it later.”

He stands from the bunk and looks you up and down, his eyes softer than you were used to in moments like this. His gaze stops on your face and he steps closer, raising a hand to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the ache in your heart at his unusually gentle touch. But it’s useless. You’re gone. You’ve been gone for a long time and you’re not sure there’s a way back.

Especially when he smiles at you - a rare, real smile that he only ever lets out when around those he trusts - and says, “Or maybe I’ll make it up to you.”

[suna-reversed]

Sukuna’s kinks headcanons// f!reader

(warnings/tags)- dacryphilia, cockwarming, breeding kink, exhibitionism, degredation, soft sex, just major Sukuna brainrot, the last one is barely even smut cause I’m such a whore for soft sukuna ✨

taglist- @thenoceurgirl @sexykpoprincess-blog @erenbae @tomsadversary @melaninpozp​ @basicallystillafetus

Breeding kink

-he wouldn’t do it all the time because sometimes he just prefers cumming over your face and chest while you’re down on your knees.

- would most likely do it as a territorial thing

- but also because something about watching his cum spill out of your poor abused hole while you’re crying and quivering just really sets something off in him.

—————

you were on your back, your legs pressed against your chest as Sukuna pounded into your over-sensitive hole, groaning loudly as he once again sprayed your insides with his seed. pulling back, he tilted his head down, a smirk etched onto it as he watched white drops dribble out as your pussy clenched around nothing. lining himself up with your slit again, he feels you clawing at him, whimpering, 

“too much...it’s too much.”

ignoring your pleas, he’d enter you with just his tip making you cry out loud. 

“you’re my good little cum-dump aren’t you?” he’d growl out loud while leaning forward towards your face and gripping your jaw firmly with one hand. 

“ye-yes I am.” you’d reply, holding your breath at the close proximity of his face to yours as his cock slides in deep inside of you once again. 

“good. that’s all your pathetic cunt is for anyways.” 

Cock warming/voyeurism 

- Sukuna takes what he wants when he wants. 

- but he also does love seeing you writhe and squirm on his thick cock while begging for him to move.

- and he’d never admit it but having your velvet heat wrapped around his cock feels like a different kind of heaven 

—————

“argh- fuck- please just fuck me” 

“tsk tsk, such a foul mouth you have. I wonder where that was when you were fluttering your lashes and bending low in front of the brat.” he says, pulling your hips down onto him further, “Did you really think I wouldn’t bury myself inside of you right here?”

to the normal eye, it would’ve simply looked like two lovesick fools in the park with how you sat perched on his lap, face buried into his chest as his arms held you so tight that you could barely breathe. 

But little did the people passing by know that the curse had rid his member from his briefs, deftly pulling aside your panties as he buried himself to the hilt, the perverse image only being obstructed by the thin material of your skirt. you wondered if someone would notice your muffled mewls and shaking legs if they stared for long enough. 

“you better start moving little one, we’re not leaving till I can feel your juices drip down your legs.”

Soft sex

- okay so was the concept of something gentle and slow even possible for the malevolent curse?

-well, when it comes to you in pain...sort of yes. 

- it would most likely occur if you get gravely injured during a mission or in a fight. 

- it would be the first time that the realisation of just how vulnerable you are would actually hit him.

——————

looking over at your frail figure wrapped under heaps of blanket, Sukuna feels an unfamiliar sensation tug at his chest. it feels like his throat is burning and freezing all at the same time while a heavy lump forms at the back of it. he’s pulled away from his internal paranoia as he watches you struggle to sit up. moving quickly, he uncharacteristically puts an arm around you to act as a brace. the tightness in his chest eases a bit as he hears a soft giggle leave your mouth, 

“I’m healed enough to move on my own now. Don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft.”

Bitter words crawl up to his tongue but before they can escape, you turn your head towards him, eyes filled with so much admiration as you cup his face. instinctively, a scowl forms on his mouth, disappearing as soon as you give him a big toothed smile. at that moment, he feels a tingling sensation bubbling in his chest and he’s not able to contain himself as he presses his lips to yours. it’s like he’s never kissed you before. it was always rushed, messy and full of desire. this is slow, deep and passionate. like something much more intimate. 

for the first time in centuries, Sukuna doesn’t know what to do as your hand creeps it’s way up under his white shirt. he knows what you want. he just does not wish to cause you any more pain as of now. but he feels himself unable to voice that sentiment as he continues to stare into your eyes, your foreheads pressed together.

“I’m not made of glass.” you whisper, seeing right through his inner conflict. 

still, it is a completely different person who gently cradles your head, pushing you back down to lay onto the bed. slowly stripping you of your clothes as every single mark and scar on your body is peppered with kisses. and when he entirely fills you up, tender whispers of “you’re staying with me forever” and “don’t ever do that again” have you convinced that this is all a dream. 

later on, you sit with him in the bathtub, back pressed to his chest as he rubs small circles into the side of your neck. 

“ As much as I loved this, I will miss my grumpy bitter cat who liked to bite me every now and then.”

“I will bite your face off if you let this get to your head brat.”

your laugh echoes in the steam filled room as you push your head back against his chest, sighing contentedly as you close your eyes, a small smile still etched onto your face.

brushing loose strands of hair away from your face, the curse simply lets himself admire the serene look on your face, silently promising himself to destroy anyone who dares to ever hurt his queen.

[limitless-rose]

Stray Kids as weird habits/quirks of mine:

Yes, that's how I act, I'm sorry 🙃

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Bang Chan: Randomly flirting on accident but unable to actually flirt on command. I can openly make 'flirty/suggestive' comments and throw 3 (very) inappropriate jokes in a row to casually respond in a conversation, to the point where my male friends keep assuming I'm flirting with them (I'm really not, that's how I act around people In comfortable with). But if you put me in front of someone I have a crush on, I become hella awkward, I can't even ask them a casual question without somehow messing up, make it make sense 🤷‍♀️ (why did Daddy Issues start playing while I was typing this last part, ffs)

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Lee Know: Passive aggressive, semi offensive, sarcastic but still caring comments. Well, just being 'cold' and moody in general. At this point, I get a genuine compliment and turn it into a self depricating joke. Even in deep, meaningful conversations, I tend to throw in dark comments. My fellow STAY friend has actually said that I give off Lee Know energy sooo here it is, I guess 😅

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Changbin: Talking loud and fast when I'm excited. Like, I could just be casually talking to my friends about, let's say, cartoons, and once I find out we all watch the same thing, I verbally keyboard smash, lol (you should see me when I find out people I hang out with listen to artists I really like, the other day I found out a girl we met recently is a fan of Weekend and Chase Atlantic, and the scream I let out, gosh). I also do this when I'm really irritated, annoy me enough (or talk shit about something I'm passionate about) and I'm competing with Jisung Changbin Seungmin on who can talk the fastest. I'm talking angry rapper Kim Seokjin level, that's how I am 😂

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Hyunjin: Doing my makeup and dressing up when I'm home alone for no apparent reason. Mainly during spring/summer, because in the winter I'm a depressed potato sack, mood so low I procrastinate getting out of bed 🤣 But yeah, it makes no sense, I take my time to get dolled up just to take a hundred selfies (half of which I hate and probably delete) and then go back to watching dramas while eating takeout in my hoodie. Stupid but honestly a nice little confidence boost, a fun activity between crying sessions imo.

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Han: Platonically calling my close friends 'babes', 'honey', 'lovely/my love', 'sweetheart' etc (I have also considered using 'papi chulo' as a joke 😂) It just happens mid-convo, especially when a friend can't decide on something. Usually in a passive-aggressive tone, like "Sweetheart, we talked about this a million times already, can you shut up?" or "My love, can you please wait for ONE fucking moment so I can finish doing this?" (and then I use 'dude' and 'bro' romantically, wow Noni, you and your weird brain ��)

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Felix: Baking sweets out of the blue and sharing them with friends/family. I find it surprisingly relaxing compared to cooking (why does it feel so fast paced, lol) and seeing people enjoying what I've made makes me really happy 😊 Not saying I dislike cooking, I'd just rather make chocolate chip cookies at my own pace than stress over the second failed fried egg and the burned bacon 🙂

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ Seungmin: Jotting down my dreams either in my notes app or in a journal (if they're interesting enough) mostly because I leave sarcastic remarks on them in the margins (might make a post about that) So when I want to have a laugh, I go back to them because they're so random and stupid but they always crack me up 😅

˚ ♡ ⋆.˚ I.N: Collecting plushies. Listen, I'm a simple person; I see something adorable and really cuddly, I buy it (if only it was this easy with relationships too, lmao). I can't help myself when I see cute things, especially with stuffies, like look at their eyes and their small smile and their fluffy bodies and their little arms, so cuteeeee 🥺 Yes, I already have a bunch of teddy bears and other plushies but that won't stop me from getting more of these cuties (also I really want a SKZOO? Like look at them, they're adorbz 💕 but I can't choose between Wolfchan and PuppyM 😭)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Hope you enjoyed this post 🖤

Feel free to drop post ideas in the comments ᵔᴗᵔ

[czigonas]

Alright. Hear me out. SoapGhost Mummy('99) fusion/AU with some WWI backstory (most of which is only implied in the films).

(This is entirely @appleciderp's fault because of both these two posts. Also my appreciation for OG Captain MacTavish's outfits.)

(Now, The Mummy is already not entirely historically accurate but I am also not a historian, so if I mess up some details about WWI, no I didn't. Most of this is just the plot of the movie but with the cod boys replacing a few people or just being added outright.)

Apple, here you go. (Also, this got really long, so it's under a cut.)

Captain John "Soap" MacTavish returns home to Scotland after serving in a unit attached to the EEF in WWI; a shadow of the man who went out to fight. While most of his company survived the brutal conditions of the Middle Eastern theatre where they were stationed, his trusted Lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, was one of those killed in the Battle of Megiddo just two months before the end of the war. His body was unable to be recovered.

In his attempts to drown his grief, Johnny loses track of most of the rest of his unit. All he has left is his younger sister Evelyn, as both of their parents died even before he was called to fight. To give themselves a new start - and both hope to curb his drinking and support his sister's blossoming career - they move to Egypt after donating a sizable chunk of their parents' estate to the library in the Cairo Museum, where it turns out the library curator is fellow ex-Captain, John Price.

(Going with Captain for Soap here because with the amount of money required to get Evelyn into her position, there's no way he wouldn't have had the money to purchase a commission. Don't worry, unlike Bey, Price won't die.)

Johnny steals reappropriates the map and box from O'Connell and, after Price tries to convince them Hamunaptra isn't real and they shouldn't pursue it, they negotiate to have O'Connell released from prison and get ready to head off down the river. The American company is lead by Dr. Shepherd and his cocky guide, Phillip Graves, who served with O'Connell in the French Foreign Legion during WWI.

When the Medjai attack the boat, Johnny gets briefly cornered by a fighter whose face is fully covered with cloth except for his eyes. While most of the Medjai are dressed similarly, this one's mask is unique and not easily pulled away from his face. The fighter hesitates to attack, however, letting Soap escape (but with a nagging feeling that he was somehow familiar).

Both groups reach the city at the same time and are again attacked by the Medjai. Johnny finds himself subtly shuffled out of danger by the same masked fighter that he encountered on the riverboat. While Ardeth gives his warning to Rick, Evelyn, and the Americans, Soap tries to ask where he and the fighter may have met before. He doesn't answer except to watch Johnny in return with what seems to Johnny to be somewhat frustrated puzzlement. The masked fighter leaves with the rest of the Medjai, though he seems reluctant to go.

While the Americans finally go to open the chest with the Book of the Dead, Graves decides to taunt O'Connell (and possibly attempt to flirt a bit with Soap) and so isn't present when the chest is opened and the curse activated. Evelyn steals reappropriates (like brother, like sister) the Book of the Dead from Shepherd's tent and reads the passage that resurrects Imhotep, which also sets off the plague of locusts.

Everyone flees into the city and, while Rick and Evelyn encounter Imhotep, Graves gets lost trying to find Soap, who has also wandered off a little. The masked fighter finds him first, however, and shuffles him back towards the rest of the party, leaving Graves to be found by the desiccated Imhotep after he's taken Burns' eyes and tongue.

(Torn between Graves being Jewish and saving himself the same way Beni does [prayers in Hebrew, which Imhotep recognises], having him enter the mummy's service some other way, having him die outright immediately, or even just him escaping somehow with or without Imhotep on his trail.)

Back in Cairo, Johnny realises he's being stalked by the masked Medjai, though he never manages to catch the guy to figure out why. He meets back up with Rick, Evelyn, Henderson, and Daniels in time to see Burns' drained body and Imhotep regenerate somewhat. After the mummy flees in fear of the cat, Rick sets Evelyn up in her room to be guarded by the Americans while he goes to warn Shepherd and Johnny goes to find the Medjai, hoping to finally get some answers (and maybe he's worried about the guy, nothing wrong with that).

He doesn't manage to find the masked fighter before Rick and Daniels catch up to him with the news that Shepherd is dead, however. They all rush back to Evelyn's room to scare off Imhotep with the cat again after Henderson gets eaten, and pack up to head towards the museum looking for answers.

And answers they find! Not only is Ardeth there with Price, but so is the masked fighter who's been stalking Johnny. Price and Ardeth lay out what's going on and while Rick, Evelyn, and Daniels ask the Medjai questions and start theorising about things, Price takes Soap to the side and reveals what he's kind of started to suspect: the masked fighter is Ghost, miraculously alive.

See, during the Battle of Megiddo, when Soap thought he saw Simon killed, he was actually just gravely injured. Because they were unable to reach him before the end of the battle - or even for a some time afterwards - he was picked up instead by the irregulars of the Hejaz and their allies who had also fought. While they were able to heal his physical wounds, Simon had also suffered significant memory loss and was unable to tell them which company he'd been attached to in order for them to help him get home.

Unfortunately, he was also somewhat mistrustful of those who had saved him, and slipped away sometime in the night to try and return to the only place that he had stuck in his head: Egypt, around Cairo, where his unit had been based out of. The Medjai had found him wandering the desert and took him in next, and he stayed because not only were they based in Egypt, which was familiar territory, but they were willing to teach him new ways to fight.

Price had recognised him once after Ardeth had brought him along to one of their regular meetings about the state of Hamunaptra, and had been trying to break through his memory loss ever since, with no luck. Soap was, essentially, their last hope on that front. Johnny declares that even if he can't manage to break through and Ghost never remembers, he won't leave Simon behind ever again.

He and Price (and Ghost who's approached them as they talked, focused entirely upon Johnny) rejoin the other four to escape the museum as the locals start to surround them. Poor Daniels gets dragged off and sucked dry along the way (not in a fun way), but the rest of them make it further until they're cornered. Evelyn agrees to go with Imhotep, now fully restored after eating the last American, demanding that the remaining four be spared if she does. Imhotep, of course, doesn't honour that agreement, but they're all four accomplished fighters and make their way into the sewers to escape.

They make their way to an airstrip where they find our boy Nikolai. (Nikolai had been fighting for the Russian Empire until the Revolution. He disagreed with the Bolshevik concessions to Germany as well as the general direction of the war, and ended up in Egypt, also fighting in the French Foreign Legion.) Nik and Price are well acquainted, and it takes no time to convince him they need to fly to Hamunaptra. Nikolai is an excellent pilot and, when Imhotep's sandstorm attempts to down them, he manages to execute an emergency landing with only injuries to himself and Price. Even though their injuries are relatively minor, Nik and Price are urged to stay behind at the crash site while everyone else continues on.

So Johnny, Rick, Simon, and Ardeth make their way in to Hamunaptra, determined to dig up the Book of Amun-Ra and save Evelyn. When they find themselves cornered by mummified priests, Soap and Ghost stay behind to fight them off while Rick and Ardeth confront Imhotep and save Evelyn.

Once the mummies are under Ardeth's command (as the one reading the inscription on the Book of Amun-Ra), Johnny and Simon finally manage to sit and have a bit of a talk and Simon takes off his mask. Turns out, he's been remembering more and more as he tries to figure out why Johnny is so familiar feeling. At this point, Ghost has almost all of his memories back, including the ones regarding how much he loved Soap. Johnny, of course, loves him back (and thinking he'd lost Simon, especially so close to the end of the war and them being free to be "good bachelor friends who live in a country house together", had been one of his major breaking points).

(I think if Graves was in Imhotep's service and survived this long, he definitely escapes the main temple with a bag of treasure, only to meet Soap and Ghost outside, still alive. He'd probably interrupt them kissing, tbh. He's that kind of cockblock. And then they'd either kill him for betraying them or leave him for the desert to kill.)

Rick, Evelyn, and Ardeth stumble out of the temple themselves, possibly after having deliberately set off a self-destruct booby trap. Ardeth takes the Book of Amun-Ra for safe keeping, much to Evelyn's disappointment. Ardeth and Ghost have a nice little chat where Ghost thanks the Medjai for taking care of him when he didn't know who he was. Ardeth denies the notion of any debt between them and wishes him well in the next chapter of his life.

The two couples gather up several of the camels, head back to the crash site to pick up Price and Nikolai, and then return to Cairo (and possibly everyone goes home to England, but possibly Price and Nik stay behind). Everyone splits the treasure they didn't realise had already been packed into the saddlebags.

(Gaz shows up in the next one, piloting the airship. Instead of being Rick's friend, he's Soap and Ghost's.)

[isei-bleeds]

Hello! Umm…just wanna say that I love your work, world building, art and the RP you’ve got with Crispy. Idk a lot, only a little still but I do like the little bits of lore about the clans and the temple, it’s interesting. What I’m really curious about is the Koroth'Ul matriarch Kindut’ru as she sounds like a fun character and her design and crown looks amazing and also about Crispys’ Guardian Khjude, another character with unique looks and abilities. They’re just really cool!!!

Thank you! We appreciate that people enjoy our works, art and writing, random blurbs, and worldbuilding.

I can't speak too much about Khjude, as she is @crispy-ghee 's creation, but I say a few more things about Kindut'ru:

Part of Korot'Ul tradition is that your children may be blood related to you, but they are not technically 'yours'. They belong to the current Leader, which are given the "Mother/Father of Many" honorific. In other clans, having many children or large bloodlines can be/is a way to gain more rank and privilege, maybe even having bargaining leverage. To the Koroth'Ul, by removing the leverage power of children, everyone is more or less equal - or at least no one will ever be able to use children/bloodline to challenge Leadership. So then becomes a matter of the individual's strength and prowess to challenge the Leader for the role - which are what the Koroth'Ul value most.

Kindut'ru, being the current leader of the Koroth'Ul, is known as the "Mother of Many".

Females will raise children, but will not claim her children as hers, and symbolically hand them over to Kindut'ru as the symbolic 'mother' of the Koroth'Ul.

For the Koroth’Ul, your body is not 'yours', technically. You are of Koroth's blood and bones, a sliver and extension of his body. Your children are an extension of Koroth as well. They are not yours/for you, they are of everyone, as we are all Koroth. It is the Mother/Father of Many who becomes the maternal/paternal figure of these children, you're just there to help raise them.

And, again, the Koroth’Ul do not see anything wrong or feel oppressed by this. This is their normal and willingly oblige to it.

Masurao has wet nursed other females' children when needed, or handed her infants over to other females when she was out fighting/soldiering.

---------------------

Kindut'ru's name is not her first name (or what she was called originally). It means 'Once Dead' in the old Koroth'Ul language; an old dialect still called "Korith".

---------------------

The Biotic Temple was once attacked by a Koroth'Ul leader at the time , an old warlord named Ga-Dau that was getting up there in age so his idea of a last hurrah was launching an assault against the Biotic Temple. Khjude managed to put up a shield, and the old bulldog warlord was none happy about it. He pushed and relentlessly assaulted his entire force against the shield.

Khjude: "You are no better than brutes that give in to your rage!"

Ga-Dau: "Take down this barrier and I will SHOW YOU my rage!"

The Koroth'Ul managed to kill at least one of Khjude's disciplies, and the woman ended up so enraged that she went from a defensive position, to an attack one.

She *destroyed* the Koroth'Ul force. At least the brunt of them.

The few fortunate Koroth'Ul that did survive Khjude's ire were probably at the far back that were able to put enough distance between themselves and her, but that doesn't mean they left unscathed, receiving "biotic burns" that left their backs scorched and scarred for the rest of their lives. Kinda also to drive that detail they WERE retreating, as the only oneswho didn't survive were those too close to Khjude and thus unable to turn around in time.

Kindut'ru has these burns on her back.

When Jagged-Tooth, the Enforcer, stays with the Koroth'Ul as a guest of honor, Kindut'ru begins regaling her guest with tales of her clan's conquests and glory. But as the drinks deepen, so does her mood, ending up in a none pleasant one sided conversation about old wounds - literally and figuratively.

This is how Kindut'ru brings up her version of events from the Temple battle. She was younger, at the rear, and that's what spared her and a small handful of others from getting slaughtered. They managed to barely escape and return. Including Kindut'ru, there's two other survivors from that battle. The rest succumbed to their wounds after, or age and other ailments claimed them later on.

She, of course, places all the blame and hatred on Khjude - and by extension, biotics in general.

------------------------------

It's an interesting exercise in perspective. They're morally muddled, and each have their arguments for the defense of their actions and accusation of the other. The Koroth'Ul were on the war path and would've killed them all if given the chance. Khjude did not give them that chance, and defended herself, her remaining students, and the Temple.

The Koroth'ul would've taken it too far; they killed a student and were not going to stop. Khjude just beat them to it in her grief.

The Koroth'Ul have their own narrative of events, which will include their bias. It only furthers fuels their purpose and determination to fulfill it.

And it's the only perspective Masurao knows. As far as her, Kindut'ru, and all the Koroth'Ul are concerned, biotics are the remnants of Pa'ya - as ancestrally blood related to God as the Koroth'Ul are to their myth-patron. The Koroth'Ul claim bloodright to kill biotics/Paya'qen to fulfill Koroth's destiny. As well as an underlying fear that if the Koroth'Ul do not kill off these biotic descendants, the biotics will kill off the Koroth'Ul instead, one day, to fully eradicate any living part Koroth as Paya did not manage to completely the first time.

[mercy-burning]

She’s An Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k

***EDITED: 7/23/2021***

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!

Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!

***

He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.

It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.

Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.

Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.

Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.

So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?

He was a goner.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.

Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.

He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?

God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...

Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.

Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.

That wasn't what was different, though.

Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.

At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.

The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.

He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)

Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.

He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.

"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.

He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."

With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."

Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"

There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.

Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.

"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.

She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."

She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.

What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?

Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.

And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.

"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."

Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."

Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.

"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.

"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"

"Sometimes."

Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"

She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."

By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.

He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.

The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.

"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"

"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."

Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.

He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"

***

Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.

Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?

Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.

Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?

He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.

And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.

He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.

She was an angel.

An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.

And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.

Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?

"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.

He blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."

Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.

But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.

And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.

So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.

For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.

The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.

Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.

He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?

"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."

He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."

When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.

And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."

Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."

So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?

It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.

Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.

Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."

She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.

***

In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.

It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.

It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.

Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.

On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)

Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder. 

His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.

With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.

As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.

Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.

If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.

Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.

And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.

Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?

He had to know what she was doing.

So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.

And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.

Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"

"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."

He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"

"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."

"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.

As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?

She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."

"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames. 

By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."

Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."

But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."

He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.

"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"

His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.

"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor.  From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."

He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...

So that's what he was going to do.

Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.

"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"

Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."

Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this? 

Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.

As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.

He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin. 

The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.

Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.

Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.

Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.

Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.

But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.

So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.

He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.

His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.

And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.

The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.

No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.

"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.

He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.

If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.

"I miss you already, Doctor..."

***

He missed her, too.

The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.

It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.

Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.

...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.

And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.

But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.

The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.

The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.

And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.

And there she was.

Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.

Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.

So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.

Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.

The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.

"Did you get my note, Doctor?"

Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.

She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.

"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.

"Y—Yeah, I got them."

"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."

They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."

Well, he tried to ask, anyway.

Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"

"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."

She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.

Angel.

As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."

Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.

Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.

As she undid his belt, looking up at him  with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?

But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"

Oh...

His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."

That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.

Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.

The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.

So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.

And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.

"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.

Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.

He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.

***

No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.

Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.

How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.

Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.

"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.

He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."

"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.

"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.

She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."

"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."

He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.

So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."

He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"

With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."

She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"

"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."

Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.

But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.

Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.

Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.

"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"

***

She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.

It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.

Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.

Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.

He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.

It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.

"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."

"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.

"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."

Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.

He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.

And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.

The sound he made was inhuman.

She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.

But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."

He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"

"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.

Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."

"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.

He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.

"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.

"Always ready for you, angel..."

The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.

"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."

Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.

But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.

And, as always, she could tell.

Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"

All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.

"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"

"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.

"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."

Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.

She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...

If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.

He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.

"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"

It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.

"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."

With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.

And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.

***

Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.

A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.

A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.

A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.

A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.

And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.

It was her.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: 

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9

ADDITIONAL TAGS: @xoxomgg

TAGS NOT WORKING: @takeyourleap-of-faith

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get to it!

[madhare0512]

A Comrehensive List of SpideyFist Interactions (pt.5)

hello and welcome back to: reasons Spideyfist is canon. a series where i take you through each episode of The Ultimate Spiderman and show you why i believe that Peter Parker and Danny Rand are dating in canon, or at least that they are each other’s favorites. and also give you commentary on the show itself as i do

(the post is unbeta'd)

warnings for: episode spoilers, season spoilers, action/injury description, unsolicited commentary, probable cussing, violence, caps lock

this part features episodes 1 through 6 of season 2

~~~

S2E1 The Lizard:

- this is another episode i was waiting for, because it has some BIG evidence

- race against the clock troupe

- you know, NO ONE tells Peter shit in this show

- Danny (and Luke) gets thrown into a wall and Peter jumps down to check on them figure out what happened

- Danny’s at the front of the line when Peter herds the team past, implying Danny was rounded up last, which counts as favoritism when you consider that Peter's literally SHOVING the team out the door

- of course the team still lives with May and Peter

- from what i know about meditation, you find a quiet place to meditate in. from what i understand, that place is usually somewhere you also sleep in. which means that Danny sleeps in Peter’s room. if this is not the case, firstly i apologize for my misinformation, secondly, Peter’s still letting Danny use his bedroom, his BEDROOM, for something that consumes time and requires peace and quiet. also, the smoke also bothers Peter, as seen when he sneezes just walking into the room, but he lets Danny burn his insence and candles in Peter’s bedroom

- Peter’s annoyed with everyone and being unable to find a place to be alone, but he’s not annoyed with Danny and he actively APOLOGIZES for disturbing Danny (and scaring him)

- Sam and May’s relationship is really cute

- ah, the zoom in on the Lizard dna, forshadowing~

- Peter knowing that it’s his job to save people without worrying about the objects- Connors wants to help Otto for science to help others and that’s so admirable

- Connors isn’t my favorite character, that’s Danny, but he’s a close second. he saw an oppurtunity to help and did so without hesitation

- LIZARD ARM

- i will forever be upset that this is how they chose to handle the Lizard in this iteration. all Connors wanted was a) to help Spiderman and b) to find a way to help those with disabled bodies. which i think is very nobel, some people don’t like that they’re down a limb and that’s valid. Connors suddenly lost a limb and wants it back, i get that. anyway, i’m rambling back to other commentary

- i like to headcanon that Connors and Octavus dated in collage

- Connors straight up looses his humanity and Octavius fucks him up more by refusing to help. Doc Ock’s obessession with seing the world turned into moster like he sees himself as now ends up being the foundation for some of the biggest villains Spiderman faces this series

- Sam’s disgust with the sewers

- Spidey-sense is either inaccurate or has terrible timming

- Stan Lee! i love this damn show and the fact that Stan worked on this show!

- we so often forget that Peter Parker isn’t just a brillian hero, he’s also a fantastic scientist that specializes in chemistry

- Danny’s the first one to reveal himself when Peter says “this was my plan”

- honorable PowerNova mentions: the way Sam just slams into Connors when the Lizard goes to attack Luke

- “you have about two seconds, Spider!” no one else uses that nickname for Peter in case you’re wondering. it’s just Danny. and Danny doesn’t give anyone else specialized nicknames

- the fact that Peter struggles with having so many people in his house is something that i can relate to, but very differently

- Danny’s a vegitarian!!

~~~

S2E2 Electro:

- i think Electro is actually sporting his classic comic look in this episode and i think that’s amazing!

- Peter’s adorable and the team being absorbed in their own tasks is something else. it also shows what this team does for fun.

- during the Electro introduction, when Electro is in the television the camera angle zooms out and shows Danny and Peter, you can tell by the hair color and shape as well as the outfits. PREVIOUSLY, Danny was sitting on the couch in a meditative pose. so when shit gets weird, Danny IMMEDIATELY gets up off the couch and goes to stand next to Peter. the time between the lights going out and the camera angle was like 5 seconds, which means it HAD to be immediate

- Danny and Peter standing next to each other before a battle again!

- also, I didn't address this is the first episode and I should've, but Danny wears green through the entirety of season 1, but in season 2 he's wearing red. and of all the team, which one wears red in any capacity? PETER DOES

- "we need light!" hmm maybe we should ask the guy who lights up- nah! "Danny can you use your fist?"

- no hesitation! NO HESITATION! there is no hesitation to be found when Danny gives it thought. he's just like, "well, I've never done it before, let's test it out" AND DOES IT

- in the flip away where the team are cavemen, the score cards go like this: Luke - 9, Ava - 8, Danny - 9.5, and we know this show is 3rd person limited, from Peter’s point of view, so this fucking counts

- and when Sam's pushing the Spidey-Cycle who gets to sit on the back of it? who gets to sit with Peter on the Spidey-Cycle? say it with me, here, DANNY DOES. if it was weight distribution, Ava would be on the back, but Luke's carrying Ava and Danny’s on the back of the Spidey-Cycle

- PETER AND DANNY HAVE NO FLUCKING SPACE BETWEEN THEM EITHER! NO SPACE, THEY'RE SITTING BACK TO BACK AND DANNY’S LEANING UP AGAIN PETER

- Danny's also the only one who sits on the back of the Spidey-Cycle. like, ever, to my knowledge, unless in an emergency

- also, this may not be accurate, but I'm counting it anyway cause it's fucking cute, but in the wipe-away where the team is cavemen on the stone wheel, Peter looks like he's carrying Danny and that's fucking adorable

- okay, so now things are a little different, but again, Peter shows favoritism for Danny, he gets to sit on the handlebars of the bike, where it's less crowded and Ava's relegated to the back with her hands on Peter’s back. it's so cute

- god these poor kids

- Batroc is fucking WEIRD. wtf was up with the pacifier??

- Danny is fucking AMAZING and i LOVE HIM

- if Danny and Peter doesn’t stop standing next to each other all the time, i’m gonna start thinking they’re gay /hj, also this counts twice

- and again, Ava may have been the first to follow, but guess who’s RIGHT on her heels

- Ava and Luke get to fly up, but Danny gets fucking THROWN

- hi, hello, i’m not a film nerd, but i have a minor obsession with perceptions and how specific things can alter that. so, when the camera angle zooms in right before the tram hit the building, it shows Peter AND Danny

- Peter moves, Danny’s right behind him, perfectly in sync with the man whois his leader. yes, this counts

- and again, i will always say, Peter doesn’t have to say a thing to Danny for Danny to understand what he wants

- “hero helps the villain by running his mouth” cliche

- also when they’re webbed to the truck, the others all look like they’ve been shot at by web fluid and are now stuck to a truck, but when you look at Danny, he’s got his arms crossed looking like he expected this, which means he LET Peter shoot him beause we know from later episodes that Peter’s webs stick to you and set in seconds. does this count? i’m counting it

- Danny and Peter are standing next to each other in the elevator again

- listen, i’m not gonna say Sam’s a dumbass. he’s a hero-in-training and he’s from fucking space. what i AM gonna say is that i feel like he should think a little more before he speaks

- jesus fUCK Electro

- hi, welcome to me being cheesy and liking music: i totally have the headcanon that Peter makes Danny playlists

- poor villain

- the team bonding is cute

- “better than being ignored!” glances in Danny’s general direction “I... guess.”

~~~

S2E3 The Rhino: 

- Danny’s not in this episode, no notable interactions. BUT there’s headcanons i can share

- THE RHINO

- headcanon one: the team started joining Peter on patrols after they saw just how much effort he puts into superhero-ing. Danny came up with the offical idea and Ava made the schedule

- headcanon two: Peter has a small squad willing to do anything for him (yes it’s made up of his team, Harry, and MJ, and YES Danny is a leader of this squad)

- does everyone on the team have bikes? can we see Danny, Ava, and Sam’s?

- “since when did you get more sage than Iron Fist?” Peter we get it, you’re in love and know all your boyfriends sayings. 

- also, by definition, Peter calls Danny wise, which fucking COUNTS

- jumping off cliffs with your friends

~~~

S2E4 Kraven the Hunter:

- fucking Peter and Danny and their fucking proximity to each other when there’s no damn need for it

- Danny comes up right next to Peter udring the training exersize

- “group up and-” Spidey-sense goes off “shit she’s going after my boyfriend” - like did you hear that panic? that just SCREAMS worried s/o

- say what you will, but Ava is very methodical. take out the biggest threat first, the one who flies and can see stealth attacks coming by staying above the fight. then the powerhouse, the master of technique (and also the leader’s weakness). then the muscle, and finally, the leader

- okay, so idk if you guys noticed, but Danny? during the panning shot where Ava’s driving Peter backwards with her claws? Danny’s entire attention is on that fight. he’s watching it like he’s ready to jump in an second, he follows the fight with his entire body. 

- video games, Danny and Peter are sitting next to each other

- "carbo load”, Danny and Peter are sitting next to each other

- at the movies, Danny and Peter are sitting next to each other

- this is will say, when Peter gets thrown to the edge of the roof, Sam gets real serious and steps between someone he’s afraid of and someone he teases all the time

- Danny’s the only person who could land an actual hit on Ava from up close, which only proves his skill

- Danny gets donkey kicked and Peter’s immediately saying “we gotta stop this now”

- the cut aways are cute, okay?

- if i had a dollar every time Peter and Danny where standing next to each other-

- who’s the first one to follow the order? who’s the FIRST ONE to follow Peter’s lead? Danny, it’s Danny

- hey, this follows the same training Ava did! biggest threat, powerhouse, muscle

- why is handsome what he goes for? 

- okay, so Peter doesn’t land immediately by Danny, which gets a dismissal at first, but then during my rewatch, i noticed he focussed in on Danny first and for a solid second longer than Luke or Sam, so i count it

- and again, he’s looking right at Danny (based on positioning and where his eye line would be) when he says “you take your cat nap and i’ll do my hero thang”

- okay. so if i understand this right, the tiger Ava has to keep in control is directly connected to the amulet, right? so then does that mean if she doesn’t have the amulet on her person she doesn’t have to be strictly in control all the time? therefore, following this line of logic, she could just put the amulet down somewhere and get a break, right?

- this episode fall back on what i said back in part 2 about Ava’s worst fears being failure. “i’m nothing without the amulet” is an explanation of that fear. she’s terrified of failing because she thinks she’s defined by her power. all of the team does. it’s an issue that really should be solved. 

- “i know you’re not nothing” aww Peter’s comforting her

- each of the team is strong in their own ways, and the solo episodes only prove it

- “oh yeah? where are the boys?” they’re still unconsicous at the pier, let’s go get them

~~~

S2E5 Hawkeye:

- not going to lie to you, i do love Hawkeye more than i probably should considering he’s a HoH hero, but he’s my favorite of the Avengers and i will not back down on that

- Danny’s not in this epsiode, it’s commentary and headcanon

- wait, Danny talks first in the cut away. i’m counting it. 

- okay so. i’m not going to tell you that i don’t ship Peter and Ava, but i am going to tell you i think she has a lot of growing to do before she should date anyone. Peter does to, of course, he’s an idiot kid just the same. i just think Peter’s less immature. it’s honestly the same for Sam, he gets blackmail and uses it against Peter, teasing and mocks in cruelty, and i understand that they care for each other, they’re teammates and family, but Peter shouldn’t be dating Sam or Ava as they are now

- Peter has a little baby crush on Hawkeye

- Danny’s talking first in all these cut aways, counts as favortism

- also, Peter doesn’t seem annoyed with the team until Luke pushes in and talks, in fact he almost looks like he’s looking around the sink to try and help Danny find his toothpaste

- Hawkeye and Peter have very different fighting styles and priorities and it shows when they’re stuck together

~~~

S2E6 The Sinister Six:

- training session on the statue of liberty

- Danny tells Peter to prepare instead of a random trash-talk line

- Peter walks close to Danny and speaks directly him when he say “you can do better”

- Danny walks away last, which i’m counting. 

- Peter, just because you’re giving the team the option and letting them do their own thing doesn’t mean you’re a bad leader

- “they’ll be here, any minute” Peter knocking back bravado and faking confidence since 2012 /j

- Luke was first up, but Danny was right after, on his heels even, when Peter tried to call for his team

- Octavius is literally TORTURING an old friend to get his way, what else is he willing to do?

- the Sinister Six are stupid as hell

- okay, so i know you’re thinking, how can Peter’s tv appearance lend itself to Spideyfist? well, in truth, at first glance, it doesn’t. but you have to remember that he’s on The Daily Bugle broadcast, which is FAMOUS for putting Spiderman and anyone accociated with Spiderman down and ruining their reputation even if they’ve done nothing wrong. saying Nova’s name first, then White Tiger, then Power Man, then Iron Fist is actually a way to protect his boyfriend. Peter doesn’t necessarily like Sam and we’ve well established that Danny his favorite, to put Iron Fist’s name last is to quietly tell the public he doesn’t really care about that hero in order to protect him from media backlash

- you know, for all the shit Peter goes though and despite those like Fury and Ava telling him he’s not a good hero, Peter’s actually a really good hero

- the fucking villains just holding Peter down

- “and I did try” ...sighs

- “but inspirational enough” Danny not letting Peter talk badly about himself is so cute

- you know the only combo move we see in the show is the Fist Ball, where Luke throws Danny into the enemy and Nova dropping people on their enemies?

- i forget if it was atrophy or just the accident that cause Octavius to loose the use of his arms and legs in this universe, but one very well could lead into the other. anyway, the point is Peter ripping Octavius arms off was cold blooded

- he’s looking at Danny when he says “i’m going after Connors”

- Peter can’t ever given himself a fucking break, can he?

- “i won’t stop trying to save you!” is like a personal motto for Peter. in truth, he’s never going to stop trying to save the people he cares about and he’ll run himself into the ground doing so. we saw it with Harry and we see it here with Doctor Connors

~~~

thank you!

[bowie-boy]

please tell me how the narrator is a trans man

@originalpatrolsheep @undeadbreeze I’m @ing you here because I actually received this ask first!

FIGHT CLUB SPOILERS BELOW

Without further ado, here is my explanation as to how Fight Club is a trans metaphor!

The Narrator is a trans man

At the beginning of the film, the narrator is an insomniac and is wildly depressed. He can’t sleep. He starts visiting a center for men with testicular cancer. This is where he meets Bob, a man with no testicles and with breasts. Despite this, Bob is still seen as a man. It’s only in Bob’s arms that the Narrator, saying “We are still men,” can cry and therefore sleep. The Narrator feels gender euphoria when he is with Bob, a cis man with feminine features who is still considered male.

Everything changes when Marla Singer, a woman, begins to attend the same centers as the Narrator. It is only when she arrives that the Narrator feels like an impostor there and becomes hyperaware of his own lies amongst the people at the centers. Therefore, the Narrator cannot cry anymore and can no longer sleep. (In real life, some trans people may feel uncomfortable spending time with those that are the opposite gender as them for fear of being seen as part of that group and getting misgendered, which is partially what I believe spooks the Narrator here.)

Marla Singer represents the Narrator’s relationship with his own femininity, something he unwillingly ties to his dysphoria. Despite his love-hate relationship with her throughout the film, she remains one of his staunchest allies and is perhaps the only thing keeping him grounded in who he is and who he used to be throughout the film.

Shortly after meeting Marla, the Narrator meets (creates) Tyler Durden. Tyler describes himself to the Narrator later in the film: “All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look. I fuck like you wanna fuck. I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.” Trans much? Tyler Durden is the idealized cis man, the prototype for masculinity that everyone in society is fed at an early age. (These representations affect and even especially affect trans men.) Tyler is the standard that the Narrator’s internalized transphobia makes him feel like he must live up to, or else he isn’t a real man.

The Narrator’s relationship with Tyler eventually leads to the creation of Fight Club, a hub of toxic masculinity that attracts all sorts of men. All of them have one thing in common—they want to prove themselves. Tyler repeatedly says that the men in Fight Club are “the most manly men” he has ever seen, a wonderfully effective way for the Narrator to validate himself. What’s more, no women are allowed. The Narrator doesn’t have to face his own femininity in Fight Club, and he doesn’t have to face that side of his dysphoria.

It’s around this point in the movie that Tyler and Marla become involved in a sexual relationship. This is symbolic in itself in the sense that the Narrator’s internalized transphobia is “dominating” his femininity and dysphoria. Even more important is the fact that the Narrator can never see Tyler and Marla in the same room. This is because, to the Narrator, they cannot coexist. The Narrator can no longer comprehend his masculinity and his femininity coexisting in him. He can deal with one or the other at one time, but he forgets that he can have both at once. The Narrator himself believes that neither is taking over his life and neither is being lost. This is what ultimately leads to his downfall.

(This is a little unrelated but it’s important to note that the solution of Tyler and toxic masculinity never helps the Narrator sleep as well as the centers at the beginning of the film did. The Narrator learns that he was never sleeping when he was with Tyler, he was just taking on a new side of himself. Internalized transphobia also led the Narrator to self-harm in many ways (the chemical burn, the fighting, the car crash). Hypermasculinity was not a helpful solution.)

It’s at this point in the film that the ongoing symbol of testicles (I know it sounds silly but hear me out) shows up again. This time, testicles are not something trivial on a man that have nothing to do with his masculinity and maleness. They are used as a threat. Tyler and some members of his army meet up with an official in the city, someone who challenges their ability to destroy buildings and public works. Tyler makes the official an offer: he can save his city or he can save his balls. The official chooses the latter. This is incredibly telling, as the men the Narrator associated with at the beginning of the film had no choice but to remove their testicles. This didn’t make them any less manly in the eyes of the Narrator. Now, though, the Narrator’s own projected sense of internalized transphobia presents a strong message: testicles are important to your status as a man.

It’s shortly after this that the Narrator views Tyler Durden’s relationship with Angel Face, someone who can be described as nothing else but a pretty boy. Tyler, despite being the epitome of toxic and hypermasculinity, respects and adores the somewhat feminine Angel Face. How does the Narrator react? By beating Angel Face until he is bloody and fully disfigured. This represents the Narrator’s resentment of society’s treatment of trans men. The Narrator does not see himself in Angel Face the way that he once saw himself in Bob. He feels that cis men can easily balance femininity and masculinity, that these two things can coexist without an issue for them. For trans men, masculinity must win out, or else society (or at the very least internalized transphobia) will never accept them. Tyler drives the Narrator much harder than Angel Face with much less payoff, and so the Narrator must destroy Angel Face as revenge.

The Narrator seems to have everything he wants until Bob shows up in the film again. The Narrator asks Bob if he’s still attending the centers they met at, to which Bob replies no—he’s now joined Fight Club. At first, this is validating for the Narrator. Bob is feminine still, with no testicles and large breasts, but he’s still considered man enough for Fight Club. The Narrator more or less lets Tyler (AKA unchecked toxic masculinity) do what he likes with Bob. This ends with Bob getting killed. In fact, Bob’s brains are blown out as he tries to follow one of Tyler’s orders. Bob represented a chance at normalcy for the Narrator, proof that men with breasts and without balls were worth just as much as other men. But Bob dies at the hands of the Narrator’s toxic masculinity, and it is this event that leads the Narrator to realize just how much he’s lost to his own feelings of inadequacy.

It’s at this point that the Narrator starts to question his toxic masculinity and his internalized transphobia. He realizes that he’s no longer even himself anymore, just a copy-and-pasted blueprint of the man society has told him that he should be. He can’t recognize himself anymore, can’t keep track of what he really feels and what he only tries to, and he realizes that he needs to end his hypermasculinity before it’s too late.

There’s only one person the Narrator can turn to to get his old self back: Marla. He visits her, apologizing for his behavior towards her. He even tells her that deep down, he really really likes her. This is a big moment for the Narrator. He admits here that his feminine side isn’t something he despises, but rather something he fears getting close to. The other important thing is that Tyler, who was once sleeping with Marla and deeply invested in her, now views her as a threat. The Narrator’s femininity threatens to overtake his masculinity, his dysphoria and euphoria threaten to overrule his internalized masculinity. Tyler wants to destroy Marla, and the Narrator wants to protect her.

For the last time in this film, the symbol of testicles appears. This solidifies how far the Narrator has fallen, how deeply he’s lost himself to self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy. Upon trying to destroy Tyler’s plan, Tyler’s army of men turns on the Narrator and tells him they’re going to cut off his balls. To them and to Tyler, this represents that the Narrator has turned against his brothers, his maleness. The loss of his testicles will show this to everyone. The Narrator, horrified, manages to escape this fate, but without his pants. He spends the final act in his underwear, somewhat symbolic of the trans body he’s worked so hard to achieve and has spent so much of the film despising.

At last, the final fight of the film. The Narrator faces off with Tyler, and must attempt to regain control of his own head. The Narrator struggles at first, unable to accept the fact that him and his internalized transphobia are one in the same, and that he has the power to overrule it. Finally giving into himself, the consequences of his actions, and the messiness of gender and his own expression as a human being, the Narrator takes control and shoots himself. With this, Tyler dies, and so does the Narrator’s internalized transphobia. His toxic masculinity is no more. He’s given himself permission to display his masculinity as much as he wants, and in any way he wants. Internalized transphobia has power over him no more.

Marla then enters the room. She expresses concern for him, the simple Narrator she met at the beginning of the film now so torn up and injured. This is representative of the Narrator’s past pre-transition self looking at his most transitioned self. He’s bruised and broken, a lot different than before. But he insists that he’s okay, and he truly means it. The Narrator is now more himself than ever. It’s in this confidence that the Narrator’s takes Marla’s hand, finally accepting his own femininity, dysphoria, and the full scope of his gender expression. “You met me at a very strange time in my life.”

In a final image, the buildings all around the Narrator and Marla explode and collapse, leaving nothing behind. The Narrator could not stop this total destruction. But the film does not make this a sad moment. It’s rather somewhat wistful, perhaps even hopeful. The Narrator had to destroy himself in order to be reborn as his full and true self. A rebirth. Isn’t that was being trans is?

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy my analysis :)

[worldformula]

I am asking about the aitsf au 👀

And I am answering! I’m gonna go down a bullet list of things I don’t think I’ve mentioned about our AU! Specifically about the siblings because my inbox is mostly about Ryuki + Saito lol so this will be a long one! Thank you for letting me go on and on about this AU seriously I enjoy it very much.

AITSF / AINI SPOILERS.

Warnings for violence, child abuse, and some seriously bad family dysfunction.

Saito has a scar around his neck, which he covers with a black choker (this is me trying to justify why he appears to be wearing two turtlenecks) (I know it’s because his model is weird but who cares). He got this from a childhood accident where Uru got angry and pushed him as they were swinging with ropes and he nearly got strangled to death. The scar is from the rope burns as he struggled. Uru wasn’t actually ever afraid of him until that day because Saito beat him up so badly for it that they had to get separated by the guards. This was also before Iris.

Following that, there is an ending where Uru finally gets to kill him (of course, it’s strangulation. Finish what you started, Uru.) but it’s also a bad one. Pretty much any ending where Saito gets killed is a bad one. But also you can imagine how insane A-Set stan Twitter is going to look following the news release that Iris’ brother killed her other brother (who killed her mother).

There was a period of 6 months where Uru and Saito just did not see each other, following Manaka’s murder. While So tried to figure out what to do about Saito, he just locked him in his room (though obviously he was let out for like, assessments and basic care) and had guards make sure no one went near (but mostly to make sure Saito didn’t get out). Uru did not know about this at all and was told he was sent away for health reasons.

Between the untreated physiological brain disorder making him upset and the distress of being stuck in The Room for so long, he developed a fear of being trapped / unable to escape. Once he was let out he moved rooms entirely and avoids The Room, which is left intact with proof of his tantrums / meltdowns (broken CRT tv, messed up walls and floors, etc).

Iris and Uru have no idea why he’s antsy about it and it bothers him immensely that they don’t have the same fear of being trapped as he does, even when he used to lock them in closets whenever he got angry with them.

This is also why he chooses to put So’s body in something as small and morbid as The Vase (it’s the vengeance babey). I have this headcanon outside of the AU but it fit really well into here, so this is the room where Hitomi shoots and kills Saito in her final girl bad ending. We love karmic retribution.

If the siblings just unionized against So, they could easily kick his ass and live like normal people. But they aren’t ever going to do that because Saito is so poisoned by the belief that he’s better than the others because he’s the true born son and they’re all inferior to him (which is undermined by the fact that So is more restrictive of him than the others + Saito himself knows he’s on thin ice constantly and is insecure about it).

So doesn’t really like any of his kids because he’s the root of all evil but if he had to pick a favorite it is actually Iris. Because Saito has a body count and Uru is deeply insecure to the point of being pathetic but at least Iris is a nice young woman who is doing literally everything she can to stay out of it. Tbh she’s slightly spared from the mind games by the sheer age gap between her and her brothers.

Despite literally all of this dysfunction, for the most part they all get along tentatively. Saito’s made himself the top of the pecking order, Uru follows Saito’s lead (but is extremely unhappy about it which is why he ends up violently repressed, susceptible to cult indoctrination, and trigger happy), and Iris respects them both from a sad distance.

The problem is that they occasionally have pretty good moments together so no matter how bad it gets, those few moments make them forget about it. Saito in particular occasionally does stand up for them against So. He was the one who convinced So to let Iris be an idol, for which she’s grateful. But he stands up to So on their behalf as a sort of power move, because neither of them have ever really stood up to their father the way Saito is able to (further establishing to them that he’s the favorite of them all).

On a lighter note, Uru in this AU is actually naturally a brunet and bleaches his hair blond. On a darker note, the combination of coloring his hair like Saito and the fact that he dresses like him (turtleneck + blazer) surely doesn’t mean anything about his self image relating to his older brother now does it.

That was 11 bullet points which I think is enough from me. Thank you!

[marvelmaniac715]

What if Andy talked to Glenda, what would that conversation be like? They were both together in an episode, but not a word was exchanged between them. I aim to correct that with this fic.

————————————————————

The kid had bright red hair. That was a dead giveaway. Not to mention the piercing blue eyes and the chilling smirk, so similar to the one that haunted his nightmares. This had to be his child.

All of his instincts told him to attack, to end this cursed bloodline in one fell swoop, but they were just a kid. They didn’t personally kill a bunch of people, they were innocent… hopefully.

He was sure that the teen’s Ray blood was crying out for revenge against it’s dreaded nemesis, but the two of them remained civil for the sake of the other people there, also remembering that they were in a place of God and it would be disrespectful.

————————————————————-

When everyone else was busy, Andy and Glenda sat down together, unable to speak for a good few minutes. They both looked down at the floor, unsure how to begin this conversation that their entire lives had been leading up to. It was Glenda who eventually broke the ice.

“So… I gather you knew- uh, know my father?”

Their voice was shaky, clearly unused to being so nervous, but Andy knew that the responsibility of speech now fell on him. So reluctantly, he met the teen’s gaze.

“Yeah, we met when I was six. Your old man… certainly did a number on me.”

He laughed nervously, Glenda joined him, a little awkwardly but not knowing what else to do.

“My dad said on the drive over here that… he hated you, and that I, as his child and therefore his ‘legacy’ or whatever, am meant to hate you as well. But you seem like a nice guy, and… I’m not really in the habit of hating people, are you?”

Andy’s polite smile dropped.

“I hate your dad for sure. He messed up my life and I will kill him for it. I hate your mother because she supports him in all he does. But I don’t hate you… so far at least.”

Glenda smirked, a little more honesty leaking into her carefully built facade of cool, polite indifference.

“If it makes you feel any better pal, I hate my mom too. She’s a self-centred, arrogant, entitled bitch. And my sperm donor ain’t much better. My mom isn’t even my mom, my mom was Jennifer Tilly, but Tiffany Valentine took over her body. My Aunt Meg said that my real mom was so nice, and smart, and funny, and just… cool. I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with my real mom? I hear that one of the last things she wanted to do before the soul transfer was hold her babies. I bet she would have loved both of us much more than Tiffany ever did.”

That little emotional outpouring was unexpected, but tensions were high, and who could blame them? They were a kid who’s life was falling apart at the seams, all because of one killer doll. Andy knew how that felt.

“I love my mom, but your… sperm donor landed her in a mental hospital. She wasn’t crazy, but nobody believed her story. I testified for her, but the courts said that I was just a little boy with an overactive imagination siding with my mother. I wish that justice could have been served, but you can’t change the past, can you?”

Glenda shook their head sadly, smiling softly in agreement.

“No, you can’t, no matter how much you want to. I’d love to see what I was like as a doll, to make sense of these flashbacks I keep having. Every time that bastard calls me Shitface all of these images come flooding back in great tidal waves of information I’m barely given time to process. I think I might have killed someone, but I’m not sure why, how or who. Does that make me a bad person, like my parents?”

Part of Andy wanted to indignantly shout “yes!” But he had no room to talk. He was almost devoid of sanity at this point. Kyle was the only person left who could keep him grounded long enough so that he didn’t end up going on a killing spree. That was just Chucky’s influence, he guessed. He filled you with this burning anger that made you want to destroy everything and everyone in your path. Glenda was his spawn, it was surprising that they were grounded enough to not go on a killing spree like their father.

“No kid, you’re not a bad person. There are very few truly good, decent people left in this world. Chucky probably killed a lot of ‘em.”

Glenda shook their head, frowning.

“My twin Glen is a truly good person. I regret leaving them behind, but they begged to stay with mom, and I was in a rush. I wish they were here with me now, they always know what to say and do. They’re the more empathetic twin, they keep me grounded when I start to go off the rails. I just don’t feel completely… whole, with them gone, y’know? Then again, I never feel entirely whole. It’s like there’s… something missing from me.”

Andy could relate to this completely.

“I totally get what you mean. I haven’t felt whole since my sixth birthday. Chucky stole my childhood, and with it any joy that I might have known. I don’t even remember much of my happy childhood days, I was so young back then. All I know is blood and darkness, and part of me is missing.”

Glenda put a tentative hand on top of Andy’s clenched fist and smiled a little.

“I hope you find the missing part of your soul one day.”

Andy smiled back, unclenching his fist and squeezing Glenda’s hand in return.

“Thanks, I hope you find the missing part of your soul one day too.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the steady ticking of the clock, then Glenda chuckled, a low, almost familiar sound that didn’t sound half as sinister as their father’s trademark cackle. Andy wasn’t sure why they were laughing until their face broke out into a wide, joyful, genuine grin.

“My dad would be pissed if he saw us talking like this. He’d be screeching at me to strangle you or tear your arm off or something. That guy has serious issues.”

Andy laughed as well, finally getting the joke. He grabbed the teapot that was resting on the table between them and poured two cups of tea.

“To the final death of Charles Lee Ray, who fucked both of us up real good.”

Glenda snorted and raised their cup at the same time Andy did.

“I’ll drink to that. Cheers!”

[godcantstopme]

nobody asked but im gonna let you guys in on a little thing i recently learned that blew my mind:

every single thing thats existence isnt based in the physical world is completely imaginary. corporations? gender? the united states of america? every single one of those things is based upon human mythology and none of them are real outside of our own collective imagination!!!

another fun fact for you before i get back to that last one: these social constructs are at the core of what makes us so different from other animals!

see, the reason that homo sapiens are so complex when compared to other animals is that we have the unique ability to make wild shit up. no other species can create myths or tell stories like we do. other animals can lie and communicate, sure, but they cannot converse about anything that's not based in physical reality. a monkey is able to lie and say that there's a lion around so that it can steal another monkey's food, but is simply unable to tell the other monkey that there's a fruit spirit who will to strike it down if it doesn't share the food. this is because animals aren't able to conceptualize things outside of their physical world. all aspects of their social structure and behavior are based upon their genetic makeup, and these things can only change when their dna does.

humans, on the other hand, have creative abilities that are simply nonexistent in any other species. we can create entire stories about things that have no physical existence. an obvious example of this is any kind of cultural mythology such as the stories of nature spirits, divine entities, or various ideas of an afterlife. but the thing is that all kinds of non-religious entities, such as corporations or countries, are just as mythological.

this post ended up being longer than expected so i put a 'read more' option in lmao- but this is a really cool concept so id encourage you to read through the whole thing!! (there's also a tldr at the end of the post under the cut fyi)

the company Target is a great example of this. you may want to stop me right there and tell me that target obviously isnt a myth of any kind. you can find its stores all over the world, and talk to millions of people who interact with it every day. but let me ask you this: if every target location worldwide was burned down, would the company still exist? of course it would. they would simply build new stores and continue on as usual. similarly, if the hundreds of thousands of people who work for target all vanished off the face of the earth, the company would still exist. the death of the ceo would not equate to the death of the company- the ownership would simply be passed on to someone else, and target would remain in existence. no matter how many of the physical components of target are destroyed, it continues to exist. this is because its existence of corporations isnt dependent on anything physical. they are simply products of complex legal storytelling. every single company's existence began when a lawyer performed all the required rituals, did the necessary spells, and declared it to be real. once this ceremony is complete, every single legal system, politician, and person acts as if something tangible has been changed and that this entity truly exists. and for all intents and purposes, it does. it can only cease to exist if a judge should perform all of the rites and rituals that are required to banish it from existence.

now, how the hell do we differentiate things that "really" exist from things that are just a product of our collective imagination?? you really just have to ask one question- would it still exist if people stopped believing in it?

you see, the legal system only exists as long as a significant amount of people believe in it, along with other myths such as the power of the government, justice, and human rights. without those beliefs, it would crumble. the country of the United States of America exists because people worldwide believe that it does and act accordingly, but gravity and genetics existed long before we were ever consciously aware of them. gravity didn't suddenly pop into existence when Newton's theory of gravity was published in 1687. this is why anything that depends on human belief in order to exist is, essentially, fictional.

but just because these things are a figment of our imagination doesn't mean that they dont matter. human myths are what work together to form our society, whether positively or negatively. myths such as human rights, the legal authority of elected officials, and the importance of empathy are what nearly everything around us is based off of. they are are infinitely important and absolutely exist, just not outside of the human mind.

had we never developed the ability to create myths, we would've remained as other human species did for millions of years and how all other animal species continue to exist today- living in small groups with our worlds consisting only of our physical reality. our ability to create stories and, consequentially, to bond/establish trust with humans outside of our known "tribes" has allowed us to also create mass systems and rules that dictate behavior. this is precisely what makes us so unique. creation and imagination are at the core of humanity.

(plus, when you think about it, the fact that we were able to make up such complex and incredible stuff is really fucking cool)

tldr: if something wouldn't exist without a significant amount of people believing in it, then its a social construct. our ability to create these social constructs through imagination and storytelling is what has enabled us to live so differently from other animals, and this creativity is at the core of everything that makes us so uniquely human!!

note: the majority of the information, concepts, and ideas within this post originate from pages 25-39 of Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari, which discusses the anthropological history of humans. i just wanted to share it because it's so fascinating to me and it altered my entire understanding of reality!!