#god I need to write in order or else I do the thing where I have a grand old time with the ending and the beginning

[july-19th-club]

favorite type of villanous characters are the ones whose motivations boil down to

like they dont even have to have any stakes in the broader situation. they just have take pleasure in destruction

[ygodmyy20]

Me: you should finish your current fanfic chapter so you can get to editing it and post it!

Also me........but what about that super intense angsty part that happens later, what if...what if we write that right now instead?

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[mercy-burning]

A Study in Anchored Souls

Pairing: ghost!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: In which the ghost of Spencer Reid discovers that in order to unveil his unfinished business and finally lay at rest, he must somehow enlist the help of the woman who now inhabits his apartment. Category: MATURE (18+) Content: Strong language, mention of weed, ghost shenanigans (?), female masturbation, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), brief handjob, unprotected p in v sex, Spencer is invisible for all of that LMAO Word Count: 11.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: God, I love ghost smut. That was a goddamn blast to write! Like you don't even know how giddy it made me putting these words to the keys. I even put in extra effort and made a little photo banner, which I’ve never done for a one shot before, and I’m kinda obsessed with it ngl 😂 I hope you love this one as much as I do! <3 Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air writing challenge!

———

ACT I: Girls' Night

Spencer Reid always knew he would die.

It was a cold, hard fact of life that at one point, everyone would die. It was unsure when or how, but it happened. There was no escaping it. That thought alone was enough to squander most of his anxieties about death— even after a few near-death experiences and the constant danger his line of work tended to throw at him throughout his lifetime.

Still, the one thing he couldn't stand to think about was the "after". He wanted truly to believe that what happened after death was just nothingness, but after his encounter with Tobias, it stirred up all sorts of questions and unexplainable possibilities that were just too vast for even his brain to try and comprehend.

Then, of course, there was the fact that he was currently standing in his old apartment, watching somebody else live her life, completely invisible to her. He tried talking to her, too, but nothing. It was like he wasn't even there.

But why? It's not like he had unfinished business or anything. The unsub who shot him was shot down immediately afterwards. He watched him die before passing out himself. Why was he "awake" now, nearly 5 months after the fact, and not when his friends were grieving him? Where were his friends, and why has the afterlife chosen to tie Spencer to a place rather than the people that knew and loved him?

Logically it seemed reasonable but really, he just missed his friends. He missed his life.

He hated the afterlife, he decided then. There was no reason he needed to keep doing this when he couldn't even leave the confines of the apartment. He couldn't walk through walls or touch anything or sit down on the woman's gross floral couch. If he wanted to enter another room, the door needed to be opened, otherwise he was stuck right there in the living room, the kitchen, and the open dining space that connected the two. If he was allowed to live his afterlife with his mom, or playing Chess with Gideon, or travelling the world, free to go anywhere and see anything without hardship, it might have been different.

But no. He was stuck watching this woman struggle to move furniture by herself.

He didn't know her. Had never seen her before. She wasn't a student of his or a victim he'd saved or even a fling. She was a complete stranger. A complete stranger who unfortunately had terrible taste in decor and an even more unfortunately beautiful face.

Her name was Y/N. From what he could gather, she didn't have any family, at least not nearby. Her two best friends were the only other people in her circle that he'd seen in the apartment, and when they were all together it was... interesting. There was a lot of loud laughter and wine, and oh God, the sex talk...

It felt intrusive, but he couldn't leave. He could migrate to another room, maybe, but his ears still worked, even a little too well. His eyes, too, seemed to be as sharp as ever, any imperfections to his vision completely mended. He was simply over aware of everything, and yet hollow at the same time, and he hated everything about it.

But what could he do? He couldn't even touch anything or communicate to anyone, so how could he possibly figure out what was keeping him here and how he could get out of it? Did his new roommate hold some sort of knowledge or ability to help him solve this mystery, or was he destined to watch her live out her life in this place that he once called "home"? Was there any connection between them at all?

He didn't know.

Usually he liked puzzles, but this one was rather annoying.

He just wanted to rest.

Y/N had been moved in for just over a month (yes, there was a whole month of just standing there learning everything about a stranger because there was simply nothing else for Spencer to do) when finally, there was a small glimmer of hope.

Heavy on the small.

It was Girls' Night. Friday. It always consisted of too much wine and movies and snacks and discussions about whatever they were reading or watching. Despite the differences in the routine, the camaraderie made Spencer miss his friends. He wondered what they were all up to. Maybe, if this all worked out, he could actually find out.

But for now, he had to focus on the baby steps.

When the girls showed up with a Ouija board, he couldn't help the incredulous laughter that escaped him.

Y/N, it seemed, felt the same disbelief. "You guys, what the fuck is that?"

"What does it look like?" the first friend, Maya, retorted.

The other, Robin, added, "You were the one that said you felt like you weren't tooootally aloooone in this apartment..."

Her haunting inflection elicited a backhanded thump to the arm, Y/N groaning as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I would want to know what or who it is! Besides, I'm probably just paranoid. It's just being in a new place and the anxieties that come with it, that's all. You guys are insane."

"Only one way to find out!"

Was Spencer really going to entertain this? A goddamn Ouija board? He enjoyed his fair share of spooky things and researching superstitions, but that was out of his realm of belief. On the other hand, one could technically consider him a ghost... He could look down and see himself, but nobody else could see or hear him... Y/N had obviously voiced a concern for feeling a presence to her friends, but how much of that feeling was accurate and how much of it was, in fact, 'new home anxieties'?

As the girls unboxed the board and set up their things, Spencer sighed, mumbling to himself, "Only one way to find out..."

Maya closed the curtains and turned all the lights off, meanwhile Y/N and Robin were collecting and lighting any candle they could find. They cleared off the low coffee table in front of the couch where the girls sat and set everything up there, Spencer taking a seat on the floor opposite the group. It was then that Y/N said something that made him laugh.

"Wait, shouldn't we give the couch to the ghost?"

"What?"

"Well, what if it's an angry ghost? And then we make it sit on the floor, and it decides to exact vengeance on us? Maybe we should... I don't know, be more hospitable?"

"Hmmm, maybe you're right," Robin said, standing up. "Do you hear that, Ghost? We're only being nice to you, so please don't kill us, m'kay?"

Spencer sighed. Little did they know, he couldn't actually sit on the couch. Or a chair. Or anything that wasn't the floor. It was like the ground was the only physical thing he was anchored to. Still, the girls had no way of knowing that, so they shuffled their way to the other end of the table, flipping the Ouija board so it would face the other way. Spencer got up and moved then. He'd have to stand uncomfortably in the small gap between the table and the couch, bending down at the waist to use the board, provided he could even touch it.

He had no idea how this was going to work, if at all.

It was all starting to sound and feel absolutely ridiculous.

The girls each put a finger on the planchette, nervous laughter emanating from them, and Spencer gave one last deep breath before reaching out to touch it himself, anticipating the moment of truth.

His hand hovered over the board, feeling a block just before he would make any contact. He couldn't touch it. His hand wouldn't even go through. He retreated and huffed, wondering if there was something he could do to communicate with them otherwise. He tried to blow out one of the candles, but with no luck. He could feel his breath against his own skin (could you even call it that at this stage?), but the objects in front of him were completely oblivious to his presence.

He was about to give up and call it a night, leaving the girls to have their fun, but then one of them gasped.

"Wait, don't we have to use two fingers? Is that how it works?"

"Shit, I think you're right."

They adjusted their positions and Spencer sighed, but indulged them just in case.

His hand lowered again, middle and pointer fingers approaching the planchette in anticipation. He half-expected there to be resistance again, but this time, a cool rush of wind gusted up in between them as his fingers made contact with the wood.

"Holy shit!" all four of them exclaimed in unison.

"Did you feel that?" Maya squealed excitedly. "Wicked..."

"No, not wicked!" Y/N whined. "We should stop!"

"Really? You know for sure now that there's a ghost living in your apartment, and you're just not going to ask it questions to make sure it's not harmful? Be smart about this, bitch," Robin countered playfully.

Spencer wanted to cut to the chase. He moved his hand, spelling out a word, and the girls collectively gasped before reciting each letter out loud hesitantly, like they couldn't believe what was happening.

"H-A-R-M-L-E-S-S"

"Oh my God! You have a Casper!"

Y/N shook her head furiously. "You guys, stop fucking with me, I mean it. This isn't funny."

"I didn't move it!" said Robin.

"Me either," said Maya. "Besides, you felt that wind right? How could either of us have done that?"

"I don't know, because you're a fucking wizard or something! Cut it out!"

"Hey, if you didn't want to do it that badly, you would have taken your hand off the planchette... Hey, Ghost, have you ever seen Y/N naked?"

"Robin!"

Maya cackled and Y/N went pale. If he wasn't already dead, Spencer would have probably gone pale as well.

The truth was, he had. Seen her naked, that is.

He wasn't proud of it. It happened by total accident. Sort of. He was following her around the apartment all day because he was bored, and he'd ended up locked in her bedroom with her. Either he was truly horrible at reading people (which seemed impossible considering his profession) or she had just gotten a random spurt of excitement, because the moment her door closed, she whipped her shirt off, exposing her bare torso to him, and he couldn't move. He was frozen, completely shocked at the sight before him. She reached down to take off her pants, and he turned around then, quickly becoming aware of the situation.

She rustled behind him and he tried desperately to walk through the door. Any time he got close, the barrier would stop him. He couldn't do anything but stand in the corner and pray to whatever that she was only changing.

She was, in fact, not changing.

Spencer swore in that moment at the table that he could still hear the low hum of her vibrator and every single sound that came from her body and mouth that night, and he was absolutely mortified.

He'd only dared to glance back when he heard the end, her breathing slow and the humming gone. It was silent for a while before he turned around entirely, only to find her asleep, sprawled completely bare over the covers. He wished he could have draped a blanket over her, but his hands were more or less tied.

Thankfully she was only asleep for about a half hour before she forced herself awake to clean up and actually go to bed.

Spencer never followed her around the apartment ever again. Just in case.

"Don't answer that, Ghost," Y/N rushed, "Robin's just fucking around. We promise to ask you serious questions from here on out."

Maya faked a snore. "Come on, Y/N, this is supposed to be fun. The ghost is harmless."

"No, the ghost said it was harmless. Doesn't mean it is."

Spencer thought for a moment as the girls went back and forth, and then he spelled out another word— or an acronym, rather.

"It's moving again!" Robin gasped, spelling out the letters.

"F-B-I"

"Holy shit did you work for the FBI, Ghost?" Maya inquired.

Spencer moved the planchette to the "YES" at the top of the board.

"Maybe... Maybe we should stop calling them Ghost..." Y/N took a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment before nodding. "Ummm... Spirit Who Resides Here..." Robin and Maya snorted. "What is your name?"

Spencer wished he could tell her she didn't need to be formal, but it was amusing watching her do it anyway. He spelled out his name, first and last, and the girls made a collective hum of acceptance. A normal name and not something concerning.

"We should Google him," Robin said matter-of-factly.

Maya hummed in agreement, but Y/N swallowed and asked another question. "Spencer, you're not... Going to hurt me, are you?"

He moved the planchette to "NO," and watched the relief take over her body, relaxing her muscles and her posture for just a brief moment. He could tell she was still wary, but it was a step in the right direction.

"See? Told you he was harmless."

"He still could be lying," Y/N mumbled. Then she sat up straight. "Not that I don't believe you, Spencer. I'm sorry. You just have to understand that I'm a woman living alone, and the thought of a man I can't see haunting my apartment is just... It's extremely terrifying."

He felt bad for her. As annoying as his situation was, he couldn't imagine being in hers. He almost wished he hadn't entertained the Ouija board at all and put her worries to rest, but since it was too late, all he could do was try and reassure her that he wasn't a threat.

His fingers moved again.

"U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D"

And then a pause, before: "S-O-R-R-Y"

Y/N's eyes dropped, and her friends made a collective "Awwwww," before a knock sounded at the door, jolting them all to move away from the Ouija board.

Spencer was knocked backwards, and he expected his newfound sense of touch to disappear once the connection had broken, but to his surprise, he found himself safely seated on the couch. His hands reached over the fabric, testing, and despite his distaste for the floral pattern on it, the cushions were suddenly the greatest thing he'd ever touched. He was grateful for this couch. And for the Ouija board, and for Y/N and her eccentric friends.

Speaking of which, Robin yelled out, "Pizza's here!" and got up with Maya to abandon the board. Pizza apparently seemed more interesting than a ghost, but for two women who Spencer could now tell (no thanks to his upgraded sense of smell) were a little high, that seemed reasonable.

As her friends happily greeted the pizza delivery man, Y/N reached out to touch the planchette again, just for a moment, and gently whispered, "Thank you, Spencer."

He returned it with an earnest, "You're welcome," but he wasn't sure if she'd hear or not. She looked around the area for a few seconds before turning around, and it wasn't clear whether she had.

But she seemed relaxed now, and that was a start.

As the girls sat at the dining table and ate pizza, Spencer tested out his new senses just a few steps away. He found himself thankful to be in a familiar place, even if the decor was different. The walls were the same and the bookshelves still stood, now filled with bright Romance novels and trinkets and photos that laid out Y/N's personality quite perfectly. He smiled, running his fingers along the spines of the books, missing the feeling even if they weren't his own.

He wanted to see if he could read one, just for the sake of feeling a book in his hands again, but he figured he'd wait until Maya and Robin were gone and Y/N was asleep.

Until then, he continued to touch things without making them move, not wanting to raise anyone's eyebrows.

And then, a gasp sounded from the dining table.

"I found him! I have his obituary right here!"

"Holy shit, let me see!"

Spencer made his way to the table to observe.

The girls passed around Maya's phone, looking at his obituary photo. Robin made a low whistle, then called out into the air on her left. He was standing to her right, unable to help the dry laughter that escaped him at the irony of the situation.

"Spencer, you were hot!"

Maya shook her head and sighed. "Yeah. What a damn shame. Sorry, man."

Robin seemed more amused than anything, turning to Y/N, who was reading through the obituary. "Hey, at least you can rest easy knowing you've got a hot FBI ghost watching over you."

"Yeah, but... Why? Do you think he lived here? In this apartment?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask him."

Y/N sighed, handing Maya her phone back. "I'm sure he has more exciting ghost stuff to do on a Friday night than entertain us three. All I know is he promised not to hurt me, so I don't really care if he stays."

He was glad for her ease of anxiety, but he certainly cared if he stayed. However, she sounded exhausted, and it was fair. Finding out your new apartment was haunted by a ghost (even a harmless one) sounded like a reasonably stressful situation. He wanted desperately to figure out how to finally move on, but for now he could accept the simple fact that he could actually touch things now, and let Y/N rest easy.

Even if he couldn't yet.

ACT II: X's and Oh's

Every time she came home, Y/N would greet Spencer kindly. Probably out of precaution (you know, just in case he really was lying about being harmless), but brightly all the same.

"Spencer, I'm home! I... I don't know if you're haunting me or the apartment, but... I hope you had a good day, just in case it's me."

He smiled, wishing he could greet her back.

Eventually, he found small ways to do it.

He fogged up a spot on her bathroom mirror, that way the next time she showered before bed, the heat would reveal a message on the glass: "Good night. —S.R."

Y/N talked to him that night, dressed in her pajamas and walking around the apartment like she was deciding where to talk to him. Eventually she decided on standing in her bedroom doorway.

"Spencer? You said good night so you might not even be in here, but... I guess this is me saying good night back...Thanks for being a nice ghost, I really appreciate it. If... If there's anything I can do for you, let me know, okay? Okay... Goodnight."

If only there was a way she could hear him. Communicating in mirror-notes was hardly good for anything more than a simple "good night," and despite the fact that he could touch things, he couldn't grip them, so writing on paper was out. He'd kept trying to open a door with the handle, and with no luck. It was starting to get irritating, wondering what the next step was to evolving as a ghost.

He couldn't even believe he'd thought up the phrase. Ghost evolution sounded absolutely insane, but he supposed it was his current reality regardless of how it sounded...

Tonight Y/N was out rather late. For a brief moment Spencer started to worry, but then the key turned in the doorway and relief settled in when she finally stepped inside. She seemed rather tired, but greeted him with a gentle smile all the same.

"Hi, Spencer."

"Welcome home, Y/N."

She didn't hear him, obviously, but it still felt rude not to say it back. He wondered if he could try to touch her in greeting. Maybe a brief brushing of hands or a tap of acknowledgement on the shoulder. But he didn't want to scare her, so he'd have to figure that out.

Thankfully, she seemed to have felt his curiosity somehow.

Later that night, as she laid in bed, she called out, drawing his attention from the living room where he tried to open a cabinet. Still no luck there.

"Spencer? Are you there?"

He wandered over to the bedroom, glad to see she'd left the door cracked open so he could get in. He hesitated before moving, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw the door open.

When he did finally gather the courage to move the barrier and step inside, he heard her gasp as she sat up in bed.

"Spencer? Was that you? Um... Move the door again if it was..."

He obliged, swinging the door shut gently as he stepped inside the room. The second the door clicked, he realized his mistake.

Now he was trapped in here with her. Not that it was a bad thing necessarily, but the last time this happened, he'd accidentally intruded on a rather intimate moment. His essence warmed at the thought.

"Holy shit. Um... This is kind of weird... I've gotten your notes and talked to you through the Ouija board, but... seeing you move things in front of me is... only slightly terrifying."

Her nervous laughter endeared him but also made him want to comfort her.

He walked over to the side of the bed closest to her body, hoping she'd be willing to communicate more thoroughly somehow. The two of them together could surely come up with something.

Again, their brains seemed to be on the same wavelength.

"If I hold out my hand... Would you touch it? Just to... let me know that it's you?"

Her arm outstretched, and Spencer slowly brought his middle finger down to touch hers, ever so lightly.

The second there was contact, there was a shock. Spencer jolted and Y/N yelled and yanked her hand back, her whole body shuddering as she kicked her legs. "Oh my God, holy fuck!" And then she laughed, reaching out to search for his touch again. He felt... different somehow, but he was still invisible to her. Her fingers wiggled and Spencer helped her out, gently holding her hand to keep it steady, as if to convey, "I'm right here, and it's okay."

"Hi," she said through a smile, her breathing heavy. "It's... Nice to... finally meet you. Kind of. Kind of meet you, I mean... Not kind of nice. I'm sorry."

He rubbed his thumb gently over the top of hers in response.

"I'm still wrapping my head around this whole thing, I... I guess I just wanted some extra confirmation that you were really here. Can I ask you some questions, Spencer?"

He rubbed her thumb again, and she breathed out with a smile.

"Okay um... Maybe draw a circle on the back of my hand for yes and an X for no... That sound good?"

Spencer traced a circle against her skin, and she nodded. "Good! Okay, cool. This is cool. Um... Did you live here? In this apartment?"

A circle.

"Is... that why you're here now?"

An X, and then a question mark.

"No... You don't know why you're here then?"

A circle.

Y/N pondered for a moment. "Could there be something of yours that's holding you here? Something we have to find or a mystery we have to solve?"

Spencer drew another question mark, then sighed. As much as he liked Y/N, he was pretty sure she would not be able to answer any of those questions. But there had to be another way to... level up, so to speak. To make him visible or audible.

"I'm sorry," she said somberly. "From what I've read, you seem like you were a good person. I hope you figure it out, whatever it is. And... I meant it. If there's anything I can do to help you, I will."

He drew a circle on her skin, but kept going around a few times, his symbol of appreciation.

Y/N warmed at the sentiment, smiling and hanging her head to look down at the hand he was holding. He didn't know it, but her skin was tingling at his invisible touch.

"Spencer... I know this is probably going to be weird... But the night I first met you, when my friends were with me... Robin asked you if... you'd uh... If you'd seen me..."

She wouldn't look up, like she was afraid to look at him even though she still couldn't see him. She didn't finish her sentence, seeming to be embarrassed about the punchline, but Spencer didn't need it. He knew exactly what she meant. Before she had time to retreat or move on, he drew a slow circle on the back of her hand.

Her head lifted. "You did see me? Naked?"

Spencer let out a shaky breath. Hesitated. Then drew another circle, followed by S-O-R-R-Y.

"Oh, I'm not upset, I promise. You don't have to be sorry."

Something shifted in her eyes then and she paused, and Spencer realized that before when she'd asked, she wasn't embarrassed. She was simply feeling the water before diving in.

He swallowed hard.

"Did you like what you saw?"

Her voice was soft, but simultaneously hard with mischief. He looked at her then— truly looked at her with his overly-perfect Afterlife vision, and even in the dim light emanating from the open curtains and the streetlights beyond it, he could see her clear as day. Rather than the big tee-shirt she always wore to bed, tonight she was wearing something lacy and lavender.

And her door was closed. He couldn't leave this room.

Although, he had a feeling right then that it didn't matter anymore. Because his hand tightened over hers instinctively and he felt himself get hard beneath the suit pants he'd been buried in.

That's new, he thought through a sigh of excitement, quickly recalling that night he'd seen her. And heard her. Feeling was growing in his joints, and he found himself flexing his hands with a new strength he hadn't felt since being alive.

"Fuck," he hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.

I think she may be slowly bringing me back to life.

He drew a slow, sensual circle on the back of her hand, and she laughed through a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that. I was also hoping that maybe we could try something a little... unconventional. The truth is, I've always hated living alone. It's too lonely, and I hate it... Now that I have you to keep me company, though... It's not nearly as bad."

She shifted her fingers, grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it to her face. Spencer caressed her as he came closer, his knees now touching the edge of her mattress. She closed her eyes and reveled in his touch, goosebumps forming along her skin.

"Will you touch me, Spencer?"

His name falling suggestively from her lips was quite possibly the greatest thing he'd ever experienced, among life and death. The afterlife. Whatever. None of it mattered, nothing mattered right then except for Y/N and her needs.

He drew a circle on her cheek and she laughed, the sound dissolving into a rather wanton sigh when he traced his middle finger down her jaw and over her throat. Just the gentlest of touches, barely even a touch at all.

"You want this just as bad as I do, don't you?" she asked, lolling her head to the side as his finger traced her collarbone and then her shoulder.

"I do." He focused on the way her chest heaved, slowly up and down as she melted into his touch, and then traced the strap of her nightgown until he reached the front, just at the curve of her breasts.

Y/N arched her back and pulled the covers away from her body, revealing herself to him in full as she got comfortable. She scooted and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Spencer along the side of the bed. He gladly followed.

"I give you permission to touch me in any way you see fit, okay? I... I want you to do whatever feels good to you. How does that sound?"

At the invitation, he quickly let his mind wander to extremely filthy places and wondered if he had the ability to taste again...

The thought alone made him twitch beneath his pants, and suddenly there was no going back.

He let out a long breath and touched the bottom hem of her nightgown. It was already short to begin with, but since she'd moved around in bed and her feet were flat, knees pointed upward, the fabric rode up to the very tops of her thighs. He drew another continuous circle right there, just below where it ended, and Y/N instinctively started to spread her knees apart.

Spencer stopped her, gripping one knee and spelling out W-A-I-T before slipping his shoes and jacket off. She arched an eyebrow, confused at first, but then looked down to the floor when she heard his shoes being kicked back and his clothing falling there.

And then, when he was ready, she looked back to the bed in front of her as Spencer climbed and knelt, positioning himself in front of her. Her eyes watched the mattress move, and a flicker of excitement danced over her features, amusing him.

He placed his hands on her knees, and even though she'd given him permission, he asked anyway, drawing a question mark against her skin.

She nodded. "Please."

Slowly, his hands pulled her legs apart. He drew it out as long as he possibly could, curious to know how long he could test her anticipation threshold. He still planned to give her everything she wanted, of course, but there was something oddly erotic about being touched by somebody you couldn't see that she was obviously keen to explore. So he would take his time until she begged him otherwise.

Sure enough, her stare was laser-focused on her body as he moved it to his liking, her breath hitching once her legs were far enough apart for him to realize she wasn't wearing anything underneath her nightgown and he paused. Already she was glistening with arousal, a sight that nearly made Spencer go completely slack.

"How long have you wanted this..." he wondered aloud, overwhelmed and in awe as his hands traveled firmly down her inner thighs. She squirmed under his bold touch, and leaned her head back against the headboard with a soft thud.

"Please," she whimpered, her hands reaching out to grip whatever bunched up fabric she could find on the bed.

He had planned to test the waters a little longer, ever so the scientist at heart, but figured that was as good of a plea as any to give in and finally give her what she wanted.

And so, Spencer ran a gentle, steady hand down through her heat, dragging his middle finger along the seam until he barely entered her, then came back up.

The long, desperate moan that Y/N drew out was like Heaven to his ears, and he'd never been more grateful for his heightened senses than in that moment. Every breath she took, every gloriously wet sound her body made as he explored her, every rustle of her hands through the sheets... All of it was sharp and crisp, and no other symphony had ever sounded so beautiful.

He wanted more of it.

One finger became two, and Spencer looked up to watch her face as he fingered her slowly. Parted lips and focused eyes fighting to stay open despite the pleasure she was feeling made for quite the perfect view, he almost didn't want to look away. But there was so much to beauty see between her soft facial features and the curves of her body and the obvious arousing sight below him. It was overwhelming how hot he felt in that moment, he could have sworn he was glowing.

His pace quickened, and Y/N had finally given into the temptation to close her yes, her head falling back again as she rolled her hips. He was getting impatient now.

With his other hand, against the inside of her thigh, Spencer spelled out "T-A-S-T-E-?"

"Oh, God, please. Yes."

Still hesitant to scare her even though his fingers were already deep inside her, rather than diving in as he so desperately wanted to, he slowly brought his head down to meet the area between her legs. He turned to press his cheek to the soft flesh of her thigh, and she gasped, the sound fading to a low laugh as she took in the feeling of his mouth and his hair caressing her skin. He kissed her then, tentatively darting his tongue out to taste her and sighing with relief once he realized he could actually taste again. Once he had that revelation, there was no going back. He was a man starved, his kisses growing more hungry as they traveled up and up and up...

Once his tongue made curious contact with the hood of her clit, Y/N gasped again, clutching her bed sheets and rolling her hips up to meet him. Spencer groaned, and a selfish part of him wished she could hear it. He wanted her to know just how crazy she was driving him, how much he wanted her. She could certainly feel it, her reaction to the vibrations causing her muscles to flex and her toes to curl, and he decided then that it would have to do. He was just going to have to make her feel his desire so deeply that it rattled in her bones and lingered there for the rest of eternity. He wanted to ruin everybody else for her, to stay with her until the end of time.

She reached and felt around for his head, fingers threading through invisible curls as she cried out.

"Spencer, you're so— so good..."

He hummed his approval at the praise and continued to work her, adding a third finger and sucking on her clit to feel her fingers tugging at his scalp. The sensation alone had him nearly lightheaded, and he wanted to stay there forever, lost in her taste and her touch and her noises.

God, her noises...

She sighed and whined, and stretched and squelched around his fingers, and he was convinced that had he not already been dead, he would have begged whoever was listening to keep him alive just to experience her forever.

The second she struggled to keep her legs open, trapping his head between them, he knew she was quickly approaching her orgasm, and he couldn't wait. He'd heard her climax before, but being right there as it was happening felt like a privilege he would always be grateful for. He wanted to replicate everything he'd heard that night and get to feel it, too— get to be the one to make her feel that way.

"Fuck, don't stop, I'm s— so close..."

Spencer groaned into her as if to say, "I know, I can feel you." Oh, how he wished he could talk her through it, to tease her with his words... Alas, he had no choice but to encourage her with his actions, so he used his free hand to search for one of hers. She gave up her hand to lace their fingers together, and his thumb continued to draw mindless circles into her skin as she clenched and released, over and over again until she was coming.

"Spencer!" she cried to the air, over and over again as if she could will him into existence again. It was a desperate plea, a manifestation, and the both of them secretly hoped that it would work.

She wanted to see him

He wanted her to see him, too.

He felt her climax subside, and then he slowly eased his fingers out of her and trailed his tongue down to keep tasting. A part of him was scared to realize he might not actually be visible like he hoped, but he pushed the potential disappointment aside and luxuriated in the way she tasted. He delved in and gripped the underside of her thighs to keep them steady, and with a delighted groan as he pushed his tongue inside, Y/N gasped.

"Fuck, I can hear you..."

The words excited him greatly.

"Thank God."

Spencer kissed her, tasted her until she was writhing and begging him to stop.

"Please, Spencer, kiss me."

He pulled away and looked up at her, smiling even though she still couldn't see him. "I am kissing you," he replied, pressing his lips to her thigh.

"You know what I mean. Come here..."

He laughed and obliged, kissing his way up her legs and crawling up her body. He slowly dragged his hands up her stomach, bunching up her nightgown and sliding it up her body the farther he got. Her eyes watched in allure as the fabric rode up and up and up, seemingly on its own. But she knew better, she knew who was undressing her and worshipping her, and it made her squirm.

She lifted her arms over her head and let him take the clothing off, revealing her chest to the chilly air. She watched as the fabric flew to the ground, and then felt Spencer's hands return to her skin, gentle fingers raising goosebumps all over. Her nipples pinched and hardened the closer he got to them, and soon enough he was palming her breasts as he pressed his forehead to hers, wedging his body between her legs.

"Kiss me," she breathed, feeling his nose touch hers. His breath was hot against her own, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Please..."

"Anything for you, sweet girl..."

She sighed as his mouth finally collided with her own, the heady and prominent taste of her arousal growing stronger the deeper he kissed her. Their bodies couldn't stop moving, wandering hands and urgent hips, and with his newfound ability to speak to her, Spencer spoke in gentle praises. He sighed out her name reverently, telling her how good and sweet and perfect she was, and she returned every word with a whimper, in awe that he was really there. He was becoming more and more present, and she couldn't get enough.

"I want to feel you," she said against his lips, dragging her hand down his invisible chest. She fingered through every button of his shirt until it was loose and open, and the cool hum of his skin as she explored his torso made her hands numb.

Spencer kissed her jaw and groaned, feeling himself throb at her words. "Let me help..."

He grabbed her hand and guided her to the bulge in his pants, even though she could have just as easily stumbled onto it herself. The intimacy of it all was almost overwhelming, so much so that when her grip tightened softly on his clothed erection, Spencer almost came undone right then and there.

"Fuck, Y/N... I'd say you're going to be the death of me, but..."

They laughed together until she kissed him again, deeply and with a sigh. "You're becoming more and more real, but... this feels like... it feels like a dream."

He understood what she meant, and it filled him with a tinge of sadness, but her hand slowly palming him was becoming harder and harder to ignore. He gripped her wrist and his breath hitched in her ear as he nipped at it.

"Trust me, sweetheart... I am very real."

She shuddered at his words and squeezed him tighter before fumbling for his belt.

"Spencer... Do you think..." Her hands successfully undid the confines of his pants and started to slide them down over his hips, trying not to mess up her words as he sucked marks into her neck. "Do you think that if you fuck me... I'll finally be able to see you?"

"Mmm, God, I hope so," he groaned earnestly, repositioning themselves so he could kick off his pants and rest her head on the pillow. She let him take the lead, her breath getting heavier with anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs and grabbed her wrist. Once again, he was guiding her hand to his cock, hard and, this time, bare. She cursed under her breath as she gripped him and he helped her languidly stroke himself in exploration. His fingers were strong over hers, and he applied just the right amount of pressure to draw out a groan from the both of them.

"Please," she sighed out desperately through shallow breaths. "Spencer, please, I need you..."

How could he resist?

He didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying.

"Then let me take care of you, sweet girl," he cooed, hiking her thighs to rest over his hips and slowly sinking into her with ease.

Once he was all the way in, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, comforting her through the low burn. He slowly rolled his hips forward as she cried out his name, her fingers coming up to grip his shoulders. "You feel that?" he whispered into her skin. "How perfectly I fit inside you? It's like you were made for me..."

"Uh-huh," she stuttered in agreement.

He stopped teasing her then, pulling back to start fucking her nice and slow as she adjusted to him. Her fingers curled and knotted into the loose material of his shirt. She would have slid it off of him, but the grip on something steady was nice as she let him focus on his ministrations. He seemed to be doing just fine with the shirt on, anyway, and it was hard to even think about anything other than how good he felt.

She wondered then, as he picked up momentum and started peppering kisses down her jawline, what she looked like to the night. If she were standing there, outside her own body, watching herself being thoroughly and beautifully wrecked by something invisible and obviously enjoying every second...

Her eyes rolled back at the image, just as Spencer started going harder. His hips snapped into hers with a strength and precision that felt like it was rattling worlds. It very well could have been, and neither of them had any mind to care; They were so intensively intertwined with each other that it was a different world entirely.

They started to burn hot, that familiar warm chill of impending pleasure creeping up through their bodies and setting them alight. Y/N snaked her arms up to Spencer's neck and brought him down for a searing kiss as she melted into him, and he returned it with a fervor that elicited the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He felt it all the way in his bones, felt the waves of pleasure start to drag him under as she squeezed him with her limbs and started to come undone herself.

The atmosphere around them was purely electrifying, bright snaps of skin and sharp whispers of mouth combining to brew a perfect storm that nothing would ever survive. It was wild and unconstrained, glimmering and grand, and in their wake, the two entities left their desire lingering in the air for the dead of night to stew in for as long as it would allow.

Spencer collapsed on top of her with a hefty sigh, and he was grateful to be able to finally share his voice with her. The mystery and simplicity of the X's and O's were fun to indulge in at first, but now that they'd grown closer and created something beautiful and memorable together, he had to tell her exactly how he felt— no symbols, no mysteries...

He kissed her softly and pulled back to look into her eyes, dragging a thumb over her cheekbone as he told her the truth.

"You're perfect."

Her eyes went wide, welling with tears as she reached up and ran a finger softly along the bridge of his nose.

"You're beautiful."

Relief and something else—something warm—stirred in Spencer's chest at the confirmation that she could finally see him, and that she was moved by what she saw. Who she saw...

He couldn't help the smile that adorned his face, and the soft joyous laughter that escaped him as she continued to explore his features with the pads of her fingertips, like she was trying to memorize him from touch alone in case he suddenly disappeared again.

"I mean it, Spencer, you're... even more beautiful than I imagined."

"You imagined me?" he inquired rather suggestively.

With a laugh, she brought him down for a slow, searing kiss. "Duh..."

Even though they were tired, they stayed like that for hours, kissing and exploring and sighing until the sweet lull of sleep took hold and carried them through the night.

For a solid few hours until he awoke, Spencer completely forgot that he wasn't alive.

ACT III: Unfinished Business

Y/N had never done so much research in her entire life. She liked Spencer, and she was more than happy to help him out, but man... Reading dozens of articles and textbooks and blogs about the different types of spirits and how to lay them to rest was a long, exhausting road that led pretty much nowhere. There was no way to know what type of ghost Spencer was or how to help him move on, not that she could see, anyway. She didn't know if he'd age with her, or be 'undead' long enough to become vicious and bitter like a lot of the spirits she read about, and Spencer's research was just about as inconclusive as her own.

A selfish part of her hoped she'd never find out, to keep him around forever... But she also knew that wasn't fair to him. No matter how lonely she was or how much fun they had and how they enjoyed each other's company, well... The fact of the matter was, he was dead.

And he deserved to rest.

In the meantime, in the hours between headache-inducing frustration at the lack of answers, Spencer told her about his life. His friends, mostly— the best people he'd ever known. The way he described them, she had a feeling that they might hold the key to his dilemma. If not directly, perhaps there was something about him that they knew, something that might give Y/N some insight into his ghostly purpose, so to speak. Not that she couldn't ask Spencer directly, but they'd already discussed a lot of back-and-forth on enemies and people that could have wanted to harm him, all of which were surefire impossibilities. Not to mention the fact that he seemed tied to this apartment and not anything else. Maybe that didn't have anything to do with it, but neither of them knew.

It was the only other option she had.

They laid next to each other in her bed, her head laying on his chest. Her ear warmed gently, and tried as she might to hear a heartbeat, all she could hear was a faint white noise, almost like he was merely a figure of tangible energy rather than a body. She supposed that was technically what he was, but as much as she'd grown to know and like Spencer, it was hard to think of him that way. It was... sad to think of him that way.

She frowned and nestled into him, trying to push away that petulant nagging in the depths of her soul that screamed "This isn't fair!" and she told him the most difficult thing she'd ever had the courage to push past her lips.

"I think I have an idea... You can say no if you think it's too weird, but... It might help you. Maybe."

"Mmm, what's that?" he responded, curious but not audibly hopeful. It made Y/N even more sad to think he probably figured he'd never find peace.

"What if I go talk to your friends? Do you think they might know something you don't?"

There was a beat of silence before she felt his chest heave with gentle laughter. "Derek Morgan definitely wouldn't think so..."

Recalling some of the funny stories he'd told her about him, she smiled. Still, she pressed. "I mean it. What other outlets do we have? Where else is there to look? If there's anyone who knows you better than anyone else, wouldn't it be them?"

Spencer sighed, giving it a thought. His fingers raked through her hair and massaged her scalp to the point of gentle, comforting numbness, another one of those domestic moments that had her feeling absolutely conflicted.

And then, he said, "Actually... I think I know exactly who you should talk to..."

———

There was a deep chill in her bones as she approached Penelope Garcia's apartment building, but not because of the lively, rustling October wind. In fact, she wanted to throw up at the thought of having this conversation. But not because she didn't want to help Spencer. She did, more than anything.

She was just afraid of being arrested.

Spencer assured her that it would be fine and that Penelope was harmless, and while the latter she could believe, it still nerved her to wander up to a woman's door and announce that she lived in the apartment of her beloved dead co-worker and needed to help him fulfill his destiny as a spirit. It sounded like a cruel joke.

"If anyone would believe you, it would be Penelope," he'd said, comforting her with a pat on the shoulder.

Maybe it was true, but she didn't want to find out if it wasn't. It was one thing to have the door slammed in your face by a grief-stricken loved one, but a grief-stricken loved one who worked for the fucking FBI was ten times worse; There were a lot more horrifying outcomes that came with that combination.

Still, she trusted Spencer on a level she'd barely trusted anyone else, and he wasn't even alive for God's sake... So she strapped on her boots, threw on her most comfortable jacket, and braced the wind and whatever fate blew with it.

For Spencer.

"For Spencer," she muttered under her breath as she rapped on the door. Three times. Third time's the charm, three's a crowd, three clicks of the heel and you're home... Three seemed like a lucky number. Three was inviting, friendly, not intended to inflict emotional damage.

Please, God, don't let her hate me, Y/N prayed to whoever was listening. Don't let this go horribly wrong.

A bright voice was yelling beyond the door, and with every millisecond that it got louder and closer, her heart started to beat faster. Blood thrummed in her ears, and she kept repeating, "For Spencer, for Spencer, for Spencer," on a loop to remind her why she was going through all this anxiety.

The voice got closer, but still muffled, until the door swung open. Then it stopped altogether. Y/N blinked and stood there with a stiff back and sweaty palms, in front of Penelope Garcia. The woman was obviously expecting somebody else to be at the door, but she didn't look disappointed, just confused.

"Oh. You're not Luke. How can I help you?"

"Um... My name is Y/N. I... Before I tell you why I'm here, I need you to know that I'm not trying to play a trick on you, and I don't want to make you sad or upset, and if there's anything you need or want to know about me in order to trust me, then I'll gladly give you that information, but this is really important and I need you to know that I'm not crazy or harmful, I just want to help him."

Penelope's eyes went wide as she reached out and grabbed her hand. The thrumming in her ears got louder as she took a deep breath and waited for the yelling to start, her body to be thrown to the ground, or a sharp piercing sting of a backhand.

The only thing she felt, however, was a tug at her heart and the gentle dissipation of nerves as Penelope spoke one simple word.

"Spencer."

"How... How did you know?"

"Ever since he... Since he's been... I just knew something didn't feel right. Everyone told me that it was just grief, and for a while that's also what I told myself, but... That feeling was just too... Wait, who did you say you were again?"

Y/N stuttered her name and gripped Penelope's hand tighter, hoping to create some rapport. "I live in his apartment. He's been... Visiting me."

Something in her eyes softened and then saddened at the confirmation that her friend was somehow still among the living. "A visitor in his own home... Poor Boy Genius..."

She couldn't help but smile at the nickname. "He said you called him that often..."

Wide eyes welling with tears, Penelope nodded and tugged at her visitor's hand. "He was the smartest person I ever knew. Kindest, too. Here, come on inside, I'll make you some tea. Do you like tea? Maybe some hot chocolate?"

Her hospitality as she ushered her inside was both comforting and saddening to Y/N. It was in her nature to be that way to guests, even strangers, sure, but it also acted as a shield from the somber feelings she'd been rushed with at a moment's notice, no thanks to said stranger.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Penelope," Y/N rushed as she shrugged her coat off. "You don't have to make me anything."

"Oh, I know I don't have to, but would you like something warm to drink?"

She was practically begging for the distraction, something to do with her hands as she had time to process and prepare for what was about to happen.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Perfect, I'll get it started. Make yourself comfortable, Sweets."

She carried her coat over her arms, holding it to her chest like a tether to reality. None of this felt real, even though she could still feel the warm glow of Spencer's energy all around her, like it had burrowed into the pores of her skin and made a home there.

As she looked around at Penelope's bright and colorful space, she thought about him... How often had he been here? What did they do together, and where did they hang out? She imagined the laughter and the stories and the cooking... She wished she would have known him then, been a part of his life. As scary as he told her it was at times, she knew there were also plenty of bright spots, and she knew Penelope was definitely one of the brightest.

Y/N smiled, hugging her coat tighter.

"I like your apartment," she complimented, sitting down at a small dining table in the corner.

"Thank you! I always told Spencer he should get some more color, but... What can I say, he really loved his neutrals."

The familiar detail brought a smile to her face. "That doesn't surprise me. He told me that even though he likes me, he really hates my floral couch and that it looked weird in his apartment. I told him he was boring." And, that technically, it was her apartment now. In fact, her exact words after the fact were, "What are you going to do, haunt me?" before they both laughed and continued making out on said couch.

But she didn't need to remind Penelope of the fact that he was gone. Or to inform her that she was intimately involved with his ghost.

Just the thought alone was enough to make the low, ever-present hum of his imprinted memory on her skin even more intense, and she smiled.

"Oh... I know that look."

Y/N looked up at Penelope, who was grinning with the most mischievous gleam in her eye.

"What look?"

"You think he's cute, don't you?"

"I... I don't..."

"Well, I suppose even if you can't see him, I'm sure he's charmed you anyway. And you probably Googled him."

"How did you—"

"It's what I would have done... So?" she prompted, still waiting for an answer of some kind.

Y/N sighed, defeated and impressed by Penelope's skills at quickly retrieving information. But she also didn't want to lie to her, so she had no choice but to answer her questions with the truth anyway. "Well, I can see him. But I couldn't at first. My um... My friends came over one night, and they brought a Ouija board. We used it for shits and giggles because I'd joked to them after I moved in that I didn't feel totally alone, and well..."

"It wasn't a joke?"

Penelope brought over the tea, steaming and aromatic. Y/N took it with a nod of thanks and sighed as she sat down across from her.

"No. But I didn't actually think I was living with a ghost, I mean... I didn't believe in that stuff. But I also wasn't going to risk pissing him off, so I tried to be nice to him. I only knew his name, and then my friends looked him up and we read his obituary, and... I don't know, I guess I just thought he seemed like a good person, so he deserved some kindness in the afterlife. I said hello to the air every time I came home from work, I yelled out a good night before going to bed... And then he started leaving me notes on my bathroom mirror, and I guess... I don't know, the more he and I got to know each other, the easier things became. Eventually he could touch things, and then soon after he was audible, then visible..."

She conveniently left out the details of that journey, though her skin warmed again at the memory.

"And now that we can communicate, it's become clear to me that he doesn't know where he's going— Why he's not at rest... I feel bad for him. He deserves..." Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard before looking down at the mug in her hand. "He deserves to move on."

Penelope was quiet for a moment as Y/N sipped her tea. Her hand reached out to grab hers, and the gesture almost had her in tears.

"You sound... Sad about that."

She couldn't help the pressure that pulsed behind her eyes, stabbing at her throat... Still, she made herself speak, barely above a whisper to prevent that inevitable cracking of the voice that would surely break the dam she was trying so hard to keep still and strong. "I... I know it sounds absolutely crazy..."

"You're falling in love with him."

Though the words didn't come from her own mouth, they came flying at her like a sucker punch to the gut. The wind was knocked out of her for a moment, until all she could do was exhale and let the tears fall silently as she nodded.

Penelope let her cry for a minute or two without a word while holding her hand, until she was ready to elaborate. "But I can't... I can't keep him here, it's not right. If he doesn't have any unfinished business, then he should be put to rest. And I... I don't know how to help him. I thought maybe, if I could talk to the people who knew him the best... I could get an idea."

"Oh, Honey, I... I'm sorry, but I don't know any more than you do." She was talking through tears herself, and Y/N squeezed her hand back. "His mother's been gone for years now, and there's no other family that he was close enough with to even consider, other than us, but... Truthfully I don't know if we really count in the grand scheme of things... I'd like to think that we do..."

"You might not be blood-related, but you were his family. He loved you so much, I could tell by the way he spoke about all of you. He... He misses you a lot. I just wish he didn't have to feel that loss anymore."

Penelope frowned. "I wish I could give you an answer... When you go back to him... Will you at least tell him that we love him?"

"He already knows. But yes. I will."

"And I'll keep on thinking. Whatever you need, you got it. I have access to pretty much everything so if there's information to be had, I will get my paws on it, and you will know. Thank you for coming to see me. And for telling me that Spencer's okay... He is okay, right?"

Y/N hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer without giving away their extra-curricular activities. "I think so. He's tired, I can tell. But I do my best to keep him happy. The last thing I need is to have him angrily haunting me."

Penelope laughed, then sighed. "Unfortunately, I think that means you better get rid of that glorious couch, then."

The laughter was a welcome break from the tears, which had already started to dry on her skin, leaving her cheeks itchy. "I really appreciate you being so kind, Penelope... Losing Spencer must have been absolutely impossible, and having a complete stranger show up at your door and pour salt in the wound... I couldn't imagine..."

"Y/N... If there was any person on this planet who could have moved into his apartment and helped him through this... I think I speak for the whole BAU when I say that he's lucky it's you."

The sentiment made her chest tight, and an involuntary pout tugged at her mouth. "You... You really mean that?"

Penelope laughed and squeezed her hand again. "Oh, Darling, you even pout like him... You're kind of perfect for each other."

"I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that," she replied through a fit of hysterics, and Penelope joined her.

It was clear then that these two women were meant to bond seamlessly over the loss of someone dear, one in life and the other in death. They were two sides of the same coin, a best friend and an anchor to the other side. It was a solace that neither of them had expected, but welcomed with open arms and warm understanding.

They exchanged stories and laughs and phone numbers and hugs, and joked about exchanging addresses, and a while later, just as Y/N was about to go home, fastening her coat, Penelope stopped her.

"Wait... I don't mean to make you sad or anything, and maybe this isn't the answer that either of you were looking for... But after today? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Spencer's unfinished business is you."

The thought froze her entirely. It would stand to reason that they were meant to find each other, only to let each other go. Because, of course. Nobody was ever that lucky, especially neither Spencer nor his new roommate.

Sensing her overthinking, Penelope continued. "I know it's unfortunate given the circumstances, but... You did say that the more you got to know him, the more... alive he became. At least as alive as he can be. And I've only known you for about an hour, but I can confidently say that you are about as perfect for Spencer as somebody could be for anybody. And..."

She shifted on her feet, unsure of whether she should actually say what she was about to tell her, but obviously needing to make her point with as much context as possible. "You know, he's tried. He watched many of us find love and have families of our own, and he's always wanted that, but... He never got to have it. I think... that was the one thing that he always truly and completely wanted, especially after his mom passed and he had no one left but us... Somebody to go home to, somebody who understood him and cared about him and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with him... A soulmate. And... Y/N, I think it might be you."

Her head was swimming and tears were blurring her vision again. As much as she wanted to believe it, ever the lover of grand romantic endings, it didn't make sense. She didn't really believe in soulmates, did she? Then again, she didn't believe in ghosts, either, until recently...

"How could you possibly know that?" she whispered to Penelope, hoping for a switch in her brain to flip. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to dash home and confidently confess to the ghost living in her apartment that they were made for each other and that she could finally set him free.

And... Then what?

There had to be another explanation.

"I wish I could tell you how, definitively," Penelope answered sadly, "and like I said, I don't want to upset you... But it's just a feeling. And my feelings are hardly ever wrong. Hey, I mean I had a feeling that Spencer was still out there somehow, and that turned out to be true, right?"

"I... I guess," she sniffled.

"Just... Do me a favor, okay? Think about it. Spend tonight with him, like you normally do, and really really think about it. And tell me you don't feel it."

It almost sounded like a playful challenge rather than a request. Y/N wiped at her eyes and sighed. "You're really sure?"

"Positive."

Y/N wasn't really sure if she believed it still, but there was a conviction in Penelope's voice that was too sincere to ignore. And Spencer trusted her, which obviously meant a lot.

So, she promised that she would think about it anyway, bade her new friend farewell, and made her way outside, where the wind had died and left the streets lifeless and quiet.

———

Something was different about Y/N when she came home.

Spencer tried to let her go about the night and refrain from saying anything, but after regretfully informing him that Penelope had no wisdom to offer her about their situation but would get back to her if anything did come to mind, she was... odd. Perhaps she was just as tired as he was in trying to solve this mystery, or just tired in general. But he didn't want to push her if she didn't want to open up, so he did what he could and offered his company.

Still, she didn't seem right.

He thought maybe a flurry of warm, tender kisses along her skin would put her in high spirits, but the longer she let him worship her skin without so much as a sigh in return, it started to sink in that something was deeply wrong.

"Are you okay?" he asked sweetly, stroking her jaw with the back of his hand as he looked her in the eye. She looked at him for only a few seconds before averting her gaze, like if she allowed him to meet her eyes for any longer, he'd pull something from her that she'd rather not share. It sent a small wave of panic through him. "Y/N, talk to me, please... What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No," she said unconvincingly.

"You don't... have to talk about it if you don't want to... But you're upset about something, and I want to help you. I'll do whatever you need me to. I'll listen, I'll leave you alone, I'll kiss it better... Whatever you want. It's yours."

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, defeated. "God, you FBI people are too good at getting information out of people, it's annoying."

Spencer laughed. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel interrogated. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... I'm..."

She couldn't seem to get out the words, like there was a frustrating lack of understanding how to convey them. He drew continuous circles gently into her palm and waited patiently for her to open up, silently promising that he would be there for her when she finally found the right words.

It was a question that she finally settled on. "Have you ever been in love? Like... Really in love?"

Something inside him jolted at the thought of where this conversation might lead. If he had a heartbeat, it would have raced and thrummed so heavily that the organ might have failed. In truth, he'd been thinking about it for a week or two now. Ever since the night he realized that his interactions with her were the key to becoming more sentient, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps she was the thing he was tethered to.

He didn't dare say it out loud, or to her face, because... Well, it was too soon, wasn't it? And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because once he was lain to rest, they could never be together.

It was complicated.

"I think I was, a few times," he finally answered in earnest. "And to be fair, just because things didn't work out with them, it doesn't mean I didn't really love them. I did. But... I think deep down I knew they weren't really The One... Does that make sense?"

"I think so... I don't think I've ever been in love before. Even with long-term partners, we said the words, and I felt something that was happy and I thought was love, but..." She paused, avoiding his eye again before rapidly blinking back tears. "Now I feel this... this anchor to you that I can't let go of... I want to be around you all the time and I know it's not fair because you deserve to rest, but I can't help it. Spencer, I... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm afraid that once I really admit it out loud, you'll be gone forever."

He knew, then, that this was it. Listening intently as she confessed, absorbing every word and allowing himself to feel and admit what he knew to be true for a while now, his body began to tingle. It was so dull at first, he almost mistook the feeling for 'butterflies'. It felt cruel not to tell her that he was starting to fade, but he didn't want to ruin the moment or panic her. He didn't want to tell her that she was running out of time. That they were running out of time.

So, instead, to try and ease the blow, he told her something sweet.

He told her, "I love you."

Her eyes glossed over at the confession. She reached urgently for his hands, her grip strong and willing like she knew what was going to happen. And maybe she did. Still, she sat there and listened to him, her eyes taking in every inch of his presence and committing him to memory.

He aimed to make it a memory she would never forget.

"I don't know when we'll see each other again, but I don't doubt that we will. Not for a second. And until then, my only wish is that you keep allowing yourself to fall in love. Don't be afraid of it. You shouldn't deny yourself just because I'm gone. Can you promise me that you'll try?"

Y/N blinked away tears and tugged at his hands. "What if I can't?"

"You will, my sweet girl. And I promise, I won't be mad at you."

She laughed despite herself, then almost cried again when she felt his presence start to fizzle and break in front of her eyes. She was desperate to hold on to him, clutching his hands for dear life and breathlessly whispering, "I love you, Spencer Reid," as if the conviction alone would be enough to keep him here. As if whatever cruel deity was putting them through this would see how much she needed him and decided to spare her the misery.

"I wish I could have known you when I was alive," he told her, leaning in closer. "Maybe we could have been neighbors."

She smiled through tears and pressed her forehead to his, the contact making her skin go numb. Silently she hoped that wherever he was going, she would be sucked in with him. "Then I would have invited you over for dinner."

He squeezed her hands, already feeling his grip fading, his essence nearly numbing him. Still, he willed himself to stay long enough to paint this life for the two of them—one they would never get to have, except only in dreams and perhaps in another life entirely. Anything was possible, after all.

"And I still would have made fun of your ugly couch."

"And I would have pushed you onto it and made you take it back."

"And I would have refused."

"And I would have kissed you ."

"And I would have kissed you back."

"And I would have fallen in love with you immediately."

"And I would have sworn that I'd fall in love with you in every universe."

She closed her eyes, feeling the very last remnants of his presence as she whispered, "I think it's safe to assume that you already have."

"And I think I'm inclined to agree."

THE END

[queenpiranhadon]

𝙰/𝙽: This was actually really cute and really fun to write <33 This is apart of @pretty-sparkle-bomb 's Dynamight GZG event so go check out the other works once they're released!! Here's my masterlist!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): Nothing really, Bakugou experiences a breakup (not with you) pining, coffee shop AU, I don't think reader's gender is specified but it's written with f!reader in mind <3

���𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): CEO!Bakugou x Barista!Reader

Katsuki Bakugou wasn't a man for sweet things.

That was the first thing you noticed about him when he first came into the coffee shop.

The CEO of the well known company known as Dynamight, he came in to the cafe where you worked regularly with a pretty woman you eventually came to realize was his girlfriend.

They were a nice pair, and though you felt a little guilty for it, you couldn't help but check out the CEO himself. He had gone viral on the internet only a year ago for becoming one of the youngest successful entrepreneurs of all time, launching his spicy food globally. With striking red eyes, spiky hair that looked like it would be soft to the touch (not that you would, even though you really wanted to), and his voice, god his voice, you could go on and on about how husky and gravelly his voice was, deep and commanding, one could immediately tell he was a businessman just from his authoritative tone.

However, he was kind. You could see it in the way he always opened the door for his girlfriend, treating her with the utmost care.

They were the perfect couple.

From what you could tell, he was a man of routine. Because every single day, without fail, he'd order the same exact thing. Two medium iced americanos, one with milk, and one without. It came to the point where you'd always start off your morning by making said two cups before anything else, knowing they'd come by to pick it up anyways.

Until one day, he came alone.

He didn't order anything this time, instead just quietly shuffling into the booth he normally took with such a hollow expression on his face it pained you as well.

You weren't close, you and Bakugou, but seeing his gentle demeanor gone in an instant, replaced with such a cold and hard shell made your heart clench.

It was strange, though you felt fleeting moments of attraction for the man (you'd never overstep boundaries though, respecting his relationship (?) ) and yet, you...cared.

It was strange, you thought, how you frowned and told your coworker to cover for you for a few minutes, and this time, stepping out of the routine you were used to.

It was strange, not making the americano you were used to, now trying something new.

Thinking about Bakugou, and what you noticed of him from the past few months of daily coffee visits, you decided that maybe, just maybe, he needed something new too.

Adding a few ice cubes to make the coffee relent its hot temperature, you put a lid on the cup and walk over to his booth, placing it on his table.

"Here." you say softly. "On the house."

Bakugou looks up at you and blinks, surprised, staring at you as if he was drinking you in for the first time ever.

You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to do, internally panicking that you overstepping your boundaries.

"You looked a little, uh...downcast? I figured getting something in your system might make you feel better." You smile gently. "I know it's not what you usually order, but I figured a change of pace might be nice."

Bakugou clears his throat and coughs out a thanks, under his breath. It's not much, but you feel your heart warm all the same.

You watch as he sips it gingerly, eyes widening as he tastes the sweet flavor.

"Is this...caramel?" He murmurs, surprised.

You swallow thickly, nervous. "Yeah, I made a caramel macchiato for you..! ...Do you like it?"

Bakugou smiles, a rare, genuine soft smile, as he clears his throat and takes another sip. "Yeah, s'good...m'not usually one for sweet things, but...I think yer right. Maybe I needed a change of pace."

You smile warmly and look back at your coworker, who's calling you over to help out in the kitchens.

You look back over at the blonde apologetically, his eyes still trained on you, nodding in understanding as you tell him that you're needed elsewhere, but to not hesitate to call you if he needed anything.

As you walk away, you don't notice the red eyes still trained on your retreating form.

Bakugou scolds himself. His girlfriend has dumped him only last night and now he can't get your damn smile out of his head.

When you return from the kitchen, you see Bakugou's booth empty, sans a $50 tip and a card that reads "Call me." with a number on it.

You can't help but feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach, trying to tame your flustered face as you quickly pocket the money and card and rush back to your counter, now replaying your interaction with the man over and over in your head.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't a man for sweet things.

But you? You might be the exception.

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Two

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him—perhaps it has something to do with you. previous masterlist ao3 next

Kyle Garrick—who instructs you to call him Gaz, explaining it as a nickname—drives you out of town in a two-horse wagon. The countryside is dyed in pastels by the softening light of a just-setting sun, every bit as beautiful as Hans had written when he told you about it.

Like a painting, he said. Everywhere you look could be framed in gold. I wake up every day in this land and thank God I have the fortune to live in it.

Here now, as the wagon rattles down the wheel-carved trail, you understand his words. You feel that if you brushed your fingers against the sky overhead, towering with lavender-bottomed clouds as thick and soft as cotton on the stem, that they might come away smeared in blue and pink and violet. The surrounding landscape is a cornucopia of vibrant greens, rich browns of trees and soil, and clusters of orange, yellow, and white wildflowers.

You keep looking all around you to take it in, jostling your driver beside you, but Gaz seems not to mind. At least, he doesn’t say anything.

You’ve been trying not to feel so aware of his presence, but the endeavor is impossible. He is a solid weight beside you on the driver’s seat, exuding warmth where your shoulders brush against each other, and the earthy, masculine scent of him is inescapable. Every time his elbow or knee or thigh nudges yours during the natural sway and jostle of the wagon ride, you have to keep yourself from leaping out of your skin. Ever since you stepped foot off the train, you’ve felt like a lightning rod set out in anticipation of a storm.

You ascribe it to displaced longing for your husband-to-be. You’d spent the whole journey west imagining how you’d meet, longing for the moment he took you into his arms for the first time. Gaz is a handsome man—it’s only natural that your unfulfilled anticipation would transfer onto him. Especially considering he said you were perfect.

But then said very little after that. He’d seemed—well, not friendly, but at least amicable on the train platform, so you wonder if your manners have offended somehow. He’s spent most of the drive now with his eyes ahead, partly obscured by the brim of his hat. Occasionally he glances at the letters in your hand, but otherwise does not acknowledge you.

After one such glance, your discomfort with the silence becomes too much to bear.

“I read my favorites every night,” you tell him.

If Gaz is surprised when you break the silence, he doesn’t show it. “That so,” he murmurs.

All you have is his profile, very handsome in the light. The line of his mouth is taut.

“I know it’s silly,” you continue nervously—you have a bad habit of rambling when you’re uncomfortable. Adjusting your carpetbag in your lap, you go on, “but you must understand, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. I never expected to marry, you see.”

He grunts.

“Much less to be a mail order bride,” you say. “I always thought I would be an old maid, for lack of available suitors if nothing else. Mama and Daddy thought I ought to learn to read and write, to improve my prospects, but most folks where I’m from don’t care much about all that.”

“I see,” replies Gaz. He still does not look at you.

“Sometimes I think it even made them like me less, like I was putting on airs, being smarter than them.” You realize immediately how arrogant you must sound. “Oh, but I don’t mean any offense! I don’t mean to suggest I have ideas above my station. It’s only just that, I wondered for years and years why no one offered for me, and it was the only thing I could think of. Why would a farmer’s daughter need to read and write? And why would a wife need to, if her duty is to tend to her children and her home? So that must be why no man has ever been very interested in me.”

You realize with horror that words are pouring out of you faster than you can keep up with them. And your driver’s attention has not shifted; his eyes remain on the road.

You look at your lap, face burning. “I’m sorry, I’m just annoying you, Mr. Garrick. I’m sorry.”

Shame grips you, tight and awkward. If you’d wanted to endear yourself to this cowboy at all, you’ve already failed.

But Gaz finally says, “Most men are idiots.” You look at him; he does not look at you. “I’ve only just met you, and I like you fine.”

He says it matter-of-factly, as if no more need saying on the subject. Simple and to the point; an economy of feeling you imagine must be characteristic of men in this part of the country.

Hans was like that too, in his letters. Communicating feeling without dancing around it, with a bluntness that ends up soft in its honesty.

It eases the tension frothing poisonous in your belly. “Thank you,” you say.

You ride in silence for a stretch. A cool breeze catches the free-floating ends of your hair, rustles along in the tall grass by the wayside. The steady thump thump thump of the horse’s hooves, and the creak of tackle and leather, are the only sounds populating the air.

Home was quiet like this, too; the fields stretching endless and green beneath the sky, the silence there so blank and open that birdcall traveled for miles, and the lowing of the family milk cow sounded sometimes like the trumpet of God.

You peek again at Kyle Garrick. There’s a furrow to his brow, the kind a man gets when he’s in a mood and won’t admit it if asked.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, quietly, because he made you feel better about things, and you’ve done little more than whine.

He finally looks at you, the edges of his face lined and glowing in the evening light. Studies you, for a moment. The furrow eases.

“No,” he says, “I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t mean to be short with you. I’m afraid manners are secondary on a ranch, without a good woman nearby to remind about ‘em.”

You give him a small smile. “Have you worked for Hans very long?”

He turns his gaze back to the road. “Six or seven years, now.”

You toy with the clasp of your bag; you’re brimming with questions. “Is he really all that tall?”

“Oh, yes,” Gaz says. “Like a giant.”

“What’s he like?”

Gaz gives a great breath through pursed, full lips. ��Fair, I guess. Asks a lot of us—but then most bosses out here will. Worked for his father for a few years before him, too.”

“You must be a good hand then,” you say.

“I work hard,” says Gaz. “That’s all that matters.”

“I’m sure Hans is grateful,” you reply. “He must trust you very much, to send you for me.”

The furrow returns. “He must.”

It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him, and it’s nothing you will resolve between now and when you make it to the ranch. Perhaps it has something to do with you—a new face, an unknown quantity that threatens to knock the balance of his livelihood askew.

You sigh a little. Of course, you should have expected to have to win Hans’ people over. Their loyalty to the late Mrs. König will inevitably be challenged by your arrival.

Neither of you speak again—you decide not to push what little grace Kyle Garrick has given you, and he does not volunteer any more conversation. The rest of the ride is unremarkable, leaving room for anticipation to grow in your stomach; soon the wagon crests the slope of a hill, and your destination comes into view.

Long Mask Ranch sits at the base of a range of mountain foothills, fed and watered emerald green by spring runoff. You’ve been on Hans’ land for a while now; opening up before you is the ranch proper. A collection of buildings form a semicircle around a large corral in the valley: stables, a barn, some cabins, and a large two-story gabled manor, painted white.

The sun sinks further toward the horizon as you approach, painting the world in liquid orange. Figures resolve themselves, people moving tables and chairs around, and on the manor’s front porch, observing the proceedings, stands a tall man in a rancher’s coat and hat.

Lightning suddenly bolts through you. You sit very, very still as Gaz pulls the wagon through a cast iron archway adorned with LMR at the apogee. Your heart thrums in your throat like a picked guitar string. When you finally come to a stop, the man’s head turns to toward you.

At the worst possible moment, shyness grips you. You look around, at anywhere but him, at the house, the corral, the cowboy beside you.

You startle to meet Gaz’s eyes. The expression he wears is a mask of seriousness.

“This is it,” he says.

Your voice leaves your chest trembling. “Thank you, Mr. Garrick.”

“Just Gaz is fine, Miss.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” you reply. Propriety feels like the only solid thing to cling to just now.

He looks away. The line of his mouth tightens. “Of course,” he says.

He dismounts the wagon in one smooth motion, boots hitting the packed earth hard. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the tall man start his way over to you. Gaz rounds the back of the wagon, and you give your bag to him once he’s at your side. He offers his hand to help you down.

You’re dazed as you take it, lightheaded as suddenly the present moment becomes very, very real. It’s warm, his hand; rough in all the places you expect a cowboy’s hand to be. Yet there’s something soft in the way your palms meet, how the dips and contours align with each other and fit together. You’re shaking very hard as you ease your way from the seat, gripping him tightly until your feet meet the ground, and his grip circles yours with a solidness to it in a way unlike any man has ever held you.

You meet his eyes again when he hands you your bag. Gaz gives your hand a squeeze, averts his gaze, and lets you go.

“There she is!” an accented voice announces.

You pull your gaze from Kyle Garrick and the mystery of his tension with you, and turn to face your intended husband.

Hans König has loomed large in your imagination for half a year. He’d described to you what he looked like, of course, as best he could, but you find as you look upon his face that no written word can convey what it means to meet for the first time the man you will marry. You’d fallen in love with someone formless, absent, but inscribed in other ways with enough distinction to nurture your tender feelings.

Looking upon him now, though…his appearance offers nothing to that distinction. He’s neither ugly nor handsome. As he comes to stand before you, you think he rather looks like every other middle-aged man you’ve met in your short life, although certainly much taller. You meet his eyes—pale blue, as he’d related—and the rush of love you’d expected to feel, once you knew who he was, simply does not come.

This man is a stranger to you.

You reprimand yourself immediately. He isn’t a stranger. You’ve known him for six months. His face is simply not one you have attached any love to yet; the measure of his character is contained in the stack of paper in your hands. In the promises he made to you to make your quietest dreams come true.

So you smile the way you’d dreamed you would—like watching the sun crest the horizon after a long night of darkness, seeing the bounty of the near future coming toward you. Summoning joy by making room for it to exist.

“Hello, Hans,” you say, “it’s me.”

Hans König steps forward. He looms over you truly, now, eclipsing your vision. “It is you, indeed.”

Without another word, right there in front of Gaz, Hans grips your shoulders, bends down, and kisses you on the mouth.

Your brows shoot upward. It’s the first time anyone has ever kissed you. His lips are…hard, and motionless against yours. Almost perfunctory. You are so shocked he’s done it that you don’t think to respond, and then as suddenly as it happened, it’s over. He pulls away, pats your shoulders with a little smile, and then looks at Gaz.

“Get that wagon put away and then go help the others,” says Hans to the cowboy, slinging one arm around your shoulder.

Your brows lift further. Is that all he has to say to him, for delivering you safe and sound?

Gaz doesn’t seem to share your feelings. “Yes, sir,” is all he says, even and toneless.

But he looks between you and his employer for more than just the span of a heartbeat. Eyes going from him, to you, to the arm around your shoulders. Then he meets your gaze, expression stony.

If Gaz is wary of your presence here—if you’re going to win him over—the best time to start is now. “Thank you very much for seeing me here safely,” you say. “I was so glad of your company, Mr. Garrick.”

To your dismay, his expression only tightens. Gaz looks at Hans again, then back at you.

“You’re welcome, Miss,” he says.

Then he climbs back into the wagon, gives the reins a snap, and drives away.

-

a/n: fun fact, the ranch and neighboring town are based off Valentine and Emerald Ranch from rdr2 :) the ranch layout is more like Pronghorn Ranch however.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Crazy Lesbians pt. 2, ft. tripleS Sohyun, Xinyu

same thumbnail because why not

tags: creampie, dp, anal, cunnilingus, (a bit of) domination play

length: 9k+

author's note: the company I'm working for paid for and sent me on a data science bootcamp, so I haven't had much time writing, but somehow I managed to finish this. Let me know what you think about this one.

---

Sohyun was supposed to sleep in your bedroom with her girlfriend, but instead, she’s on the sofa, cuddling you through the night. Her limbs are wrapped around different parts of your body the same way yours are around her.

“Baby,” you softly call to her in a coarse, sleepy voice, “good morning.” Sohyun hums, still around 70% asleep if you were to guess. “I don’t know how much time I have left, but I love you.” “Huh? What are you talking about?” You give her pets on the back. “We’ll return to our lives soon, and we probably won’t get to do this again.” Sohyun lifts her head, looking at you with half-open eyes. “Are we not welcome in your place ever again?” “Of course you are,” you say. “Then there’s no need for such bullshit—especially not this early.” You peck the top of her head in apology. “I’m sorry for that, baby.”

Sohyun gathers her might and moves to lie square on your body. “Daddy,” she calls to you, “I love you.” You chuckle. “We’re not dropping the names?” She grunts. “Why? You don’t like it?” “Baby, c’mon,” you start stroking her back gently, “I was just playing—of course, I like it.” “Good,” she says, “because we’re not dropping it ever; it’s easier like this.” Also, to ensure “safety,” you ask her to remember to only say it in private settings, and she agrees to your request.

Sohyun asks you to check up on Xinyu, so you make your way to your bedroom. When you open the door, you see that Xinyu has her long limbs splayed all over the bed while her mouth is wide open. “Sweetie,” you slap her cheek lightly to get her attention, “good morning.” “Good—” A yawn interrupts her sentence. “Good morning, daddy.” “Are you ready to wake up, sweetie?” Xinyu opens her arms wide. “Carry me to mommy, please.”

You carry Xinyu like a koala and take her to Sohyun, who is still chilling on the sofa. “Mommy,” Xinyu calls to her, “good morning.” Sohyun laughs. “Now that we have someone to call daddy, it’s starting to feel like a small family—it’s just that we’re all the same age.” You lower Xinyu onto her mommy. “And we’re gay, and you’re our third wheel,” she adds.

“Not just that, but mommy, daddy, and baby have sex with each other; we are one problematic family,” you pile on the final punchline.

-

You arrive at your go-to breakfast spot with Sohyun and Xinyu for some toast and coffee, which are Sohyun’s favorite breakfast items.

“Changmin-ah,” she’s clever to not use the names outdoors, “what do you want to have?” “An iced latte, a peanut butter toast, and some dumplings, please.” After relaying your order to the staff, she turns her attention to Xinyu, who says that she’d like to have the same things Sohyun is having.

Sohyun joins you and Xinyu at the table after ordering for the crew. “Do we have anything to talk about?” Before speaking, you look around the establishment to check where people are—there are that two women near the door, a few tables away from you, and also that group of four close to them, so no one is going to hear your conversations.

“Alright, we’re safe,” you say, “how’s your ass, baby?” “Oh my God,” Xinyu reacts, “are you that curious?” “Well, yeah—it was your first time after all.” “Well, I loved it; it was painful at first, but my God was it hot.” Xinyu quickly covers her face in shyness. “You’re okay now, though, right?” Xinyu nods. “L-let’s talk about something else, please.”

A text from Sohyun seizes your attention. “Fuck my ass tonight, daddy,” the text says. “Baby, look at this,” you whisper as you show Xinyu your phone, “mommy is very naughty, don’t you think?” Xinyu covers her red face behind her palms. “S-she is, daddy,” she replies, “a-and it’s because of you.” You lean closer towards her. “Yeah? What do you think I should do to her, baby?” “Tie her down, daddy, and shove your cock into her holes,” she whispers to you, covering her face as she does so that Sohyun doesn’t catch it. There’s a naughty smirk on your face and one of similar nuance on Sohyun’s. You unlock your phone to reply to her text. “We’re going to have so much fun today, baby.”

Food arrives at your table, thus snapping you out of your nasty trance. “Well then, let’s eat, girls,” you say as you help the staff distribute food. You take a sip of your latte. “Mm, that’s good,” you say, “are you girls alright?” Xinyu nods enthusiastically at the taste of her toast and iced americano. Sohyun, on the other hand, is silent, seemingly detached from the situation. You reach for her hand that’s on the table and tap it gently. “Are you okay?” Sohyun smiles a bit and says that she just had some thoughts. “Pay attention to her, daddy; the last time she had some thoughts, we ended up in your bed,” Xinyu warns.

Nothing extraordinary happens during breakfast, as everyone was busy munching and sipping. “Are we ready to leave, then?” The two girls say they are, so you stand up and make your way out of the place with them (after paying, of course). “You can drive, can’t you?” Xinyu says she can, so you take a seat in the second row with Sohyun because you want to address whatever thoughts are clouding her mind—if she’d let you, that is.

“Sweetheart,” your voice is as gentle as intended, “would you like to talk about it?” Sohyun takes your hands in hers. “It’s my brother’s birthday, Changmin-ah, but we’re not on the best terms,” she starts. “I was just reminiscing our old relationship—you know, before I came out and all that.” “It’s difficult when it’s family, isn’t it?” She sighs. “It is, but at the same time, he’s a decent guy; at one point, it felt like he was concerned about my well-being more than his moral correctness,” she says.

You notice that Xinyu keeps stealing glances via the rear-view mirror, so you stick out your tongue playfully every time she looks at you to lighten the mood. You then turn your attention back to Sohyun. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that you’re fine and you’re loved, but if you want to do anything for your brother, let me know.” Sohyun shakes her head. “It’s fine, I’ll just let him be,” she says.

-

You take a seat on the sofa after extending it. “Daddy, can I use your computer? I have some assignments.” You see that Xinyu has her tablet in hand. “Sure, baby—password is 020202,” you say. While Xinyu makes her way to your bedroom to use the computer, Sohyun joins you on the sofa, and without saying a word, she cuddles you from the side.

“Hi, sweetie,” you give her a peck on the top of her head, “you want to watch something?” Sohyun says that she’ll watch whatever you put on, so you play this documentary video on Pallas’s cats that the documentary dubs as the Masters of the Plains.

“The great plains of Mongolia,” the narrator starts, “home to a surprising feline: the Pallas’s cat.” “Baby, look,” you point at the screen, which shows the small head of a Pallas’s cat behind some foliage. Sohyun giggles when a drone footage of a cat running across the vast plain is shown. “Where is the car going,” she quips. “It’s got places to be, babe,” you reply. She squeals and slaps your chest repeatedly when the video transitions to a shot of kittens running towards the camera. “Oh my God, this is going to be so much fun.”

Sohyun is quiet during the first few minutes of the documentary, and honestly, it’s reasonable; there is no Pallas’s cat to be seen yet. She giggles a little when a biologist pulls out a cat from its burrow and holds it in the air, putting into perspective the size of this friend-shaped predator. “Aww, look at the tummy,” she comments. She continues giggling when the cat, after being measured and released, starts sprinting away from the biologist and his crew.

You find yourself giggling with her as clips of the cat roaming around the snow-covered plains looking for prey are shown on screen—there’s something about the way the cat runs that you and Sohyun find cute. Eventually, in its exhausted state, the cat plops down onto the snow while its gaze is aimed at the camera rather comedically. The biologist from earlier says that lying flat on the ground is one of the cat’s defensive mechanisms, as it allows it to blend with the background. “Yeah, I don’t know about that—I mean, that brown fur is perfectly visible in the snow,” you say. “Yeah, well, you’re not part of the diet,” she counters.

A timelapse of a Pallas’s cat hiding from its predators by lying still, its face covered in snow, and occasionally sticking its tongue out makes Sohyun’s giggles become louder. “Oh my God, look at that kitty,” she points at the screen, “that must be cold, right, babe?”

You and Sohyun continue watching in silence, paying full attention to the documentary as if you were going to take a quiz after it’s done. That said, you make sure to mix in pecks and pets here and there. “I love you, baby,” you whisper. She lets out a deep exhale. “I love you too.”

Soon, Sohyun slaps your chest to get your attention. This time, a mama cat and her 5 kittens are shown on screen. The narrator speaks about how the family of cats have to move every few days because if they don’t, they’ll run out of food eventually. As they move, the mama cat keeps looking back to make sure no kitten is left behind, which is cute to see. “Wow, they can travel that far with those small legs? That’s crazy.”

“But with only so much rocky terrain to choose from, it’s easy to unexpectedly bump into neighbors,” the narrator says, “two families appeared to have chosen the same spot.” Sohyun tightens her grip on your arm. “Oh, please don’t fight—j-just share the spot with your neighbors, please.” Her tenseness dies down momentarily when a kitten is seen sprinting straight towards the camera crew with its tiny legs. “Bravely, the kitten gets as close as three meters from the camera,” the narrator adds. ”Then, perhaps after sensing the crew’s presence, it thinks better of it and turns to run.” It is when it’s back near its previous spot when the other kittens start swarming it, welcoming it back after such a brave adventure. Finally, as the kittens begin running further from the camera, the narrator explains that the two families are living alongside each other contently for now, and Sohyun is no longer uptight.

Xinyu comes out of your bedroom at some point near the end of the documentary and joins you and Sohyun on the sofa. “Mommy, daddy,” it looks like she likes those names, “I just finished my assignment; tell me you’re proud of me.” You pull her in for a cuddle on the other side that’s vacant. “I’m proud of you, baby,” you peck her on the top of her head. “Watch this with us, baby—it’s about to end, though.”

“Look here, there’s a steppe eagle’s feather,” the biologist says. The camera is then pointed at the remains of what is said to be a young female cat that the biologist has been keeping an eye on for research purposes. “Only 30% of young cats reach a year old, and there’s no guarantee the others will survive the winter,” the narrator piles on. “Damn, I joined during the sad part,” Xinyu says.

“As aggressive predators, these cats have passed down skills from mother to kitten seen in no other species of feline, yet they must be cautious enough to avoid becoming prey themselves. They are the true masters of the Mongolian plains.” Finally, the documentary ends with a drone footage of a cat roaming the frozen flats in its lonesome, looking for prey while avoiding whatever danger is lurking.

“That was cool,” Sohyun speaks her mind, “thanks, daddy.” “You’re welcome, sweetie,” you peck her forehead, and that is when you hear Xinyu whine. “I won’t forget you, baby.” You give Xinyu a peck on the forehead like you did Sohyun. “Is there anything else you want to watch?” “No,” Sohyun yawns, “let’s just chill like this.” She says she wants to chill, but Xinyu places a hand on your crotch. “Yah, did you not hear what mommy said?” Xinyu slowly moves her hand away from your cock, but you’re already hard because of it. “You’re going to face repercussions later, Miss Zhou.”

-

Sohyun has fallen asleep on the sofa at some point, and Xinyu thinks that it’s time to have fun. “Daddy,” she whispers, “don’t you want to touch me while mommy is asleep?” “Baby—” “Please, daddy, I want to have you to myself,” she insists. You look to your right; man, Sohyun is so pretty and elegant even when sleeping. “Alright, okay—I’ll join you in the bedroom after this,” you decide to give Xinyu what she wants. Once she gets off the sofa and leaves, you gently free the right side of your body from Sohyun’s grasp. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” you whisper to her.

When you enter your bedroom, you see that your computer is still on. “Daddy, look at my score,” she points at it. You see that she got only one wrong out of 10 questions. “9 out of 10, huh?” “Me smort,” she says, proud of her achievement. You give her nine pecks on the lips, one for each question she got right. “Good job, baby—I’ll give you a present if you get all correct on a quiz next time,” you carefully word your promise, hoping that Xinyu will catch it.

“Can you give me a preview of that present now, daddy?” That is precisely the response you were looking for. Xinyu bites her lip when she sees your bare torso. “God damn,” she quips, “and you use that sexy body to play tennis?” You haven’t played tennis in a minute but yes, you do use this body to play it. “I don’t know, daddy, it feels like you’re playing the wrong fucking sport.” You chuckle. “Hey, at least I can hit the ball harder with these muscles.”

It is when Xinyu exposes her bare torso that you start getting hard (and drooling). “Fuck,” a curse flies out of your lips, “you are insanely hot, baby.” She giggles. “Mommy said the same thing on our first time.” “Does she say that still?” “Occasionally,” she says, “most of the time she just starts touching me as soon as I’m naked.”

You give Xinyu the chance to take off her pants by herself in peace. “I’m ready, daddy.” Initially, you thought about “crashing” into her like uncivilized-like, but after looking at her one more time, you opt to approach her slowly and softly. Putting your hands on her waist, you pull her in for a quick kiss. “I love you, baby.” “I will miss you for sure, daddy.” “You are always welcome here, baby—that is, if you want to see me.” Xinyu kisses you fleetingly. “Unless you give me a reason to hate you, you’ll always have a space in my heart.” You chuckle. “Don’t say that around mommy too much; wouldn’t want to make her jealous, hm?”

Xinyu falls backwards onto the bed, pulling you with her in the process. You gently rub her cheek with your thumb, earning a sweet smile from her. “You make me feel like I was your girlfriend.” “Would you rather be my sex buddy, then?” “I’ll be whatever you want me to, daddy; just tell me what you want.” You tell her that you want to take it slow to start and will pick up the naughtiness as you progress. “Sure, daddy.”

Having been shown the green light, you ease your junior into her pussy with a hand to guide. Xinyu lets out a lengthy moan as more of your shaft enters her until it’s entirely inside. “Oh, yes, daddy—am I tight, by the way?” “Very,” you say breathily, “you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” “O-only for mommy and daddy,” she replies just as breathily, “n-no one else deserves me.”

After taking a deep breath, you start moving your hips, and more moans start freely flowing out of her lips like water out of a tap. Amongst the moans, she mixes in some “daddy” and “I love you” as well. Xinyu gasps audibly after a particularly deep thrust. “R-right there, daddy, please.” You guess that she wants it as deep as possible, so for the next thrust, you make sure to lodge the entirety of your shaft in her. “Yes, daddy, that’s perfect.”

You maintain this slow pace, savoring the way her sexy moans are entering straight into your eager ears. As she expresses her enjoyment with these whispered words, you softly speak into her ear that’s right next to your mouth how tight and hot she feels around your cock. “Y-you’re so sweet,” she quips, “a-and so big.” You chuckle slightly. “You know how to fuel my ego, don’t you, sweetie?” The way she randomly licks your cheek sends a jolt through your body. “I-I have a secret to tell you, daddy,” she continues, “mommy’s dildos don’t—oh, God—they don’t compare to the real one, daddy.”

Your arousal reaches its peak; Xinyu for sure knows which buttons to press to get the best out of you (and Sohyun, but she’s not in the room). “Daddy,” she calls again, “I-I know how hard you are.” “Yeah?” “Y-yeah, daddy.” “So?” “So, turn it up, please; treat me like a sex buddy—make me scream until mommy wakes up.”

You straighten your posture and flip her onto her stomach, pulling out momentarily so that her long legs don’t hit you on the head. You part her plump butt cheeks to look for your target. “I want this,” you place a finger on her rear hole. “M-make me cum, a-and then I’ll give it to you.” “Deal.”

As soon as your cock is back in her pussy again, you start smashing her roughly, making her scream just like she requested. “Louder,” you spank her, “wake mommy up.” Adhering to your command, Xinyu turns up the volume of her screams, borderline exaggerating her reactions.

You keep fucking Xinyu at this rough pace, tugging her hair—wait, what is that feeling? “What—what the fuck?”  When you look behind, you see Sohyun licking your asshole, thus forcing you to stop. “When did you get here?” She lifts her tongue off shortly to answer you. “Just now, but I’ve been listening from the other side,” she says.

You pull out from Xinyu’s tightness to sort out the situation. “You,” you point at Sohyun, “sit on that stool and watch—touch yourself if you want.” Sohyun nods and makes her way to the stool. “Now you,” you place a hand on Xinyu’s back, “be good.” “Y-yes, daddy.”

 You take a seat on the bed and pull Xinyu onto your lap. “Tell mommy what you’re feeling, baby, okay?” She nods, and that is when you plunge into her warm pussy again. “M-mommy,” she starts right away, “d-daddy is so fucking big in my pussy.” You turn your head to the right so that you can see Sohyun, and would you look at that: she has a hand between her legs. “Keep going, baby,” you whisper to Xinyu as she’s moving along the length of your cock. “I-I’m taking daddy’s big dick like a good girl, mommy,” Xinyu piles on, and you hear a moan from Sohyun; she’s begun touching herself at the sight. “Let’s give mommy something enjoyable to watch, baby.”

With your hands fixed on her waist, you guide Xinyu to bounce on your shaft, and at the same time, you thrust upwards to meet her in the middle. “Mommyyy,” she begins dragging her words, “mommy, he’s fucking me like a sex buddy.” You laugh internally at how she’s phrasing it. “Daddy, daddy,” she shifts her attention to you, her hand reaching backwards towards your nape, “I-I won’t last—oh, fuck, I won’t last too long, daddy.”

You pick up the tempo to the maximum that you’re physically able to reach, highly eager to make Xinyu cum. “Let’s go, baby—let’s fucking go.”

With one last loud scream, Xinyu announces her orgasm, her thighs and legs vibrating violently as she goes flying across the finish line. Xinyu falls feebly onto the bed, going face first onto the pillow that’s thankfully fluffy enough to soften the landing.

Your attention is promptly shifted away from her when you hear splashing sounds from behind. “Oh, you too, baby?” Sohyun tries to get closer to you, but her weak legs just won’t cooperate, so you decide to approach her. “What does a mommy do when her baby makes a mess?” “The-the mommy cleans after the baby, da-daddy,” she answers. “Correct,” you say, “so, what are you waiting for?”

Sohyun takes you in her mouth and runs her tongue along the underside of your cock, making you jump a little when she reaches the spot just before the tip. “Great job, sweetie,” you make sure you don’t forget the praise. “Great fucking job.” Having fixed her hands on your thighs, she keeps bobbing her head along your cock. “How does your baby taste?” “Good, sir,” Sohyun pulls out a new name for you, “I-I like her taste on your cock, sir.” You pet her head gently. “Alright, that’s enough, sweetie.”

Sohyun grabs your leg when you walk away from her. “Don’t cum in her.” “You have my word, baby.” Satisfied, she lets you go, so you continue walking towards the beauty in bed. You stroke your cock aggressively, and with a low moan, you spray cum all over Xinyu’s firm tummy. “I love you, baby girl,” you say in a soft tone.

-

Xinyu is still deep asleep, so you decide to have food delivered here for lunch. Sohyun says she wants a burger and some fries, so that’s what the three of you are having this afternoon.

You lie on the sofa with Sohyun as you wait for the food. “Changmin-ah, I’m not happy that you touched Xinyu before I did,” she doesn’t sugarcoat her words. “I’m sorry,” you don’t know what else to say, “she, erm, she wanted to have sex while you were asleep.” She stays silent for a moment, trying to come up with a reply. “I don’t want to compete with you, Changmin-ah—I can’t compete with you; you have a real penis, but I don’t,” she says.

With the way she’s phrasing it, you realize that she’s worried about losing Xinyu to you because of her double sidedness. You also realize that at one point during the session, Xinyu spoke of how the dildos don’t compare to a real penis. “Yeah, alright,” you say, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

When the food arrives, Sohyun goes to the bedroom to get Xinyu while you sort out the dining table situation. You want to greet the sleepy girl as she walks out of your bedroom, but the way Sohyun is glaring at you (it’s also possible that she’s just looking at you with those sharp eyes with no ill intent) stifles your tongue.

“Why is no one saying anything? Did you fight when I was asleep?” Xinyu is quick to pick up the awkwardness in the air. You put on a smile for her. “No, we just had some things to talk about,” you deflect. “Talk, of course.”

Your eyes are locked on the wrapped burgers on the table until Sohyun turns your face towards her. “Can I help you?” Sohyun gives you a flash kiss. “I don’t hate you, just so we’re clear.” You put on another smile for her. “That’s great to hear, sweetheart.”

You decide that you’ve had enough of the awkwardness and grab a burger, followed by Sohyun and Xinyu who do the same. “Enjoy your lunch, girls.” After taking a bite from the juicy cheeseburger, you chase it with a few pieces of fries. Hums fly out of your lips as you savor the glorious taste—there’s a reason why this burger shop always has long lines, especially in the evening. “Babe, relax,” Sohyun snaps you out of your feeding frenzy, “no one is trying to steal that from you.” You hold in a laugh because your mouth is full. “Me plenty hungry,” you say.

The three of you fill the room with conversations about light subjects such as college life and past dating experiences. “So, daddy,” Xinyu says, “what happened to your last girlfriend?” “Well, she left,” you say plainly, “the problem was with me, not her.” “How so?” You sigh. “Well, I didn’t make time for her enough; there was this one week where I was so busy with classes and a bunch of other things, and the only interaction I had with her that week was dinner on Tuesday and Thursday and sex after—I think that pushed her over the edge.” Xinyu nods as she listens to your story. “Well, I figured since I’m still busy with myself, I’ll just spare these girls the bullshit and be alone for now,” you add. “Isn’t that sweet,” Xinyu comments.

After lunch, you go back to the sofa. Xinyu tries climbing your body, but Sohyun gets to you first. “Aaaah, mommy,” Xinyu whines. “No, you’ve had enough fun with him already.” In your head, you guess that this is her way of stopping you and Xinyu from touching each other, so you just let Sohyun do what she wants. “You’re not trying to steal him from me, are you, mommy?” “No,” Sohyun says, “if anything, I’m trying to stop him from stealing you from me.” Xinyu blinks slowly as she processes what she has just heard. “S-stealing me? From you?”

Sohyun gets off your body and takes Xinyu’s hands in hers. “Baby, listen, please,” she begins, “I’ll come clean and say that I’m scared of losing you to him—he has the single thing that I don’t.” “I bet you’re talking about his dick.” “I mean, yeah,” Sohyun admits, “when I had sex with him a few days ago, I told him that you also deserved to feel the same ecstasy I did, so I brought you to him—now, though, I feel like I’m losing you because we all know you play for both sides.”

Xinyu glances at you over Sohyun’s shoulder before shifting her gaze towards her again. “Mommy,” she says, “I must admit that sex with daddy is amazing, but that’s not going to sway me from you—I love you with all my heart, mommy.” Behind Sohyun’s back, you let out a big sigh of relief; Xinyu just assured (wholeheartedly, at that) Sohyun that she’s not losing her girlfriend to you, and you imagine that hearing it directly from Xinyu is as good of a certitude as it gets.

“Oh my God, what the hell am I nervous for?” You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Sohyun slaps your thigh playfully. “If Xinyu leaves me for you, I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to a cat.” You chuckle a little “The Pallas’s cat from earlier?” Sohyun laughs. “Yeah, one of them.”

-

“Huh?”

“Hi, there,” Sohyun’s face is hovering closely over yours. “Good nap?”

“Very,” you say, “very good.”

“Nice, I’m glad.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I want—no, we want your dick.”

Of course, they do; what else would they disrupt your peaceful nap for if not sex?

You say to her that you’ll join them in the bedroom after gathering your consciousness, so Sohyun leaves first while you rub your eyes and get yourself ready to perform in front of these women, and in your head, you’re curious if they always have this much sex on the daily.

Xinyu only has her underwear on when you get to the bedroom while Sohyun is just about to undress herself. “There he is,” Xinyu welcomes you, “you looked cute when you were sleeping, daddy.” “Only when sleeping, huh?” “I mean, yeah—ah, wait, have mercy!” She laughs uncontrollably when you tickle her waist in revenge for the incorrect answer. “You should take on media training; you need to be able to say the correct things, you know.”

You and Xinyu keep exchanging jokes until Sohyun snags your attention by tapping your forearm. “Strip me, daddy.” You drag her towards the wall and hold her hands over her head, trapping her between a rock and a hard place. “Didn’t you see that I was in the middle of a conversation?” Her eyes shake. Intimidated by the sudden change in your attitude. “So-sorry, d-daddy,” she stutters, “I—” You intrude by latching your lips onto the smooth skin of her neck, forcing a moan out of her because of the surprise.

Sohyun starts humping your thigh that is neatly placed between her legs, and you can feel how wet she is through her panties. It is when Xinyu says that she wants a piece of Sohyun that you take her to bed. “What do you think we should do to her, baby?” “I want to fuck her ass, daddy,” Xinyu says, her eyes fiery in lust. She then leans closer towards Sohyun. “A virgin ass must be so fucking tight, isn’t it?” Xinyu drops the naughty charade momentarily to ask if she has Sohyun’s consent, and she does.

As usual, you take your rightful spot on the stool to watch these ladies conduct business. “Ready when you are,” you quip, making Xinyu laugh. She’s probably asking herself why you, a spectator, are seemingly more excited about this than she is. “Mommy, look,” she says, “daddy is horny just from looking at us.”

Sohyun looks at you for a split second before looking back at Xinyu, visibly nervous about getting fucked in the ass for the first time, and you think that this is a good time to step in. “Timeout, ladies—time-fucking-out,” you say. You approach the bed, your eye locked on Sohyun. “Your heart is racing, isn’t it, baby?” “Y-you can tell?” You put on a soft smile as you pet her head. “You’re breathing fast, and your face tells me that you’re nervous.” “Y-yes, I-I’m nervous,” she admits with little argument.

Xinyu promises that she’ll use a lot of lube and be gentle, and for your part, you sit on the bed next to Sohyun and hold her hand through the ass-taking. “Squeeze my hand as much as you want—you can also scream if you want to; we’re safe here.” Sohyun nods slightly as she’s looking at Xinyu, who is busy coating the rubber dick with lube.

Sohyun gasps sharply when she feels the tip poking her rear hole. “G-gently, baby, please,” she begs. “Sure, I’ll try.” Xinyu has no problem speaking since she can’t feel anything, but based on how hard your hand is being squeezed right now, it has to be intense for the anal virgin.

You keep an eye on both Xinyu and Sohyun as the former begins moving in and out of the latter’s asshole. “Daddy,” Xinyu steals your attention, “you didn’t hold me like that when I was getting fucked.” An apology is everything you can come up with, but she doesn’t want words. “I’ll forgive you if you’d lick my ass.” Adhering to her demand, you move behind Xinyu and start eating her ass, earning a long moan from her. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, daddy—eat my ass just like that.”

Amidst your busyness of eating ass and stroking yourself, you can hear that Sohyun’s grunts have been replaced by moans; she must be finding anal enjoyable now that she’s spent a few minutes getting used to having her ass filled.

Shortly after, however, Xinyu tells you that she’s had enough of your service and that she wants you to watch as she “takes mommy to cloud nine.” You return to your throne and wrap your fingers around your cock. “Go on then, baby.”

You’re a bit surprised when Xinyu folds her mommy in half; you didn’t expect her to have the heart to be rough on Sohyun’s first time like this. “You always do this to me, mommy, and today, you’ll learn how to take it.” Sohyun screams very loudly when Xinyu begins fucking her ass roughly, and admittedly, this is very arousing to watch. “God, these girls are insane,” you think.

“You like this, mommy? You like getting fucked in the ass with a fake dick?” Too busy moaning, Sohyun resorts to nodding. “Aren’t you a dirty fucking slut.” Once again, you didn’t know Xinyu had it in her like that, but your hand moves faster along your length, nonetheless, finding the sight hot.

While Sohyun’s hands are busy holding her ankles above her head, Xinyu uses hers to rub the nub without letting up the pace. “Cum for me, mommy—cum for me like you always do.” The moans become louder as Sohyun approaches her orgasm, and with a scream, juice spurts out of her, splashing all over herself and Xinyu. “Good, good,” Xinyu coos, “good job, mommy.” It is when Xinyu pulls out of the freshly fucked ass that you see the gape. “We’re totally not virgins now, mommy.”

You stop stroking yourself to prevent semen from coming out of your cock. “You girls are insane,” you mindlessly utter, still high on arousal. You gasp when Xinyu touches your cock. “You’re still hard, and I have an idea.” “F-fire away.” She looks behind her quickly to check on Sohyun, who is visibly drained. “Fuck me, daddy, and when mommy is ready, I want the both of you.”

After taking off the strap-on, Xinyu drags you towards the bed and bends over. “Fuck me like this, daddy.” “No, no, that won’t do,” you say, “get on the bed, baby; we’ll give mommy a proper show.” She lies on her stomach and makes the time to give Sohyun a quick peck. “Mommy,” she says, “daddy is going to fuck me, so please watch us with full attention, okay?”

You tease Xinyu by poking her asshole with the tip of your cock, making her jump a little. “Not yet, daddy.” “Later, then?” She looks at you with a sexy smile on her face. “Just start already, hm?” You slide your cock into her, and since she’s not spreading her legs, her thicc thighs makes it feel tighter, on top of her already-tight pussy. Xinyu begins moaning audibly, borderline exaggerating her reactions for the sake of Sohyun’s entertainment. “Oh, yes, daddy—fuck, yes.” She screams when your palm lands on her butt a few times.

You think that now is a good time to really get to it; the two of you have warmed up enough, and you, in particular, are really desperate to cum. You plant your knees on the bed on either side of Xinyu’s thighs and start moving your hips back and forth while your cock is lodged in her, earning soft moans from Xinyu, mixed with some high-pitched ones occasionally.

It must be because you’ve stimulated yourself earlier, because you can already feel orgasm approaching quick. “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby,” you say, “I don’t think I can last long.” “D-don’t cum inside, daddy,” Sohyun speaks on Xinyu’s behalf, and you nod in response. You maintain this high pace during the last stretch of this short session while keeping it in the back of your head to pull out when you cum. Noticing that your shaft is throbbing, you pull out and stroke yourself to completion, thus painting Xinyu’s smooth butt with semen. “I love you, baby,” you make sure you don’t forget the sweet words for the girl.

Despite your weak legs, you move to get some wet tissue to clean up both Xinyu and Sohyun. “We’re going to swap the sheets again after this.” “No,” Xinyu rebuts, “I-I want to go again—with mommy and daddy this time.” You guess-timate that you’re still capable of doing another round, but what about Sohyun? You look at her, and she seems to have gathered herself. “You alright, sweetie?” Sohyun simply nods, a small, cute smile decorating her face. “We’ll take a little water break first, and then we can see how we can proceed, okay?”

You leave to get some water from the kitchen, filling a large tumbler for the girls to share and another one that’s smaller for yourself. You mix in some cold water so that it’s more refreshing, especially since everyone is exhausted.

When you return to the bedroom, Sohyun and Xinyu are embracing. “Hello, hello,” you greet them, “is everyone okay?” They look at you with a smile, but Sohyun’s eyes are glassy. “I, uh, just told Xinyu how much I love and cherish her,” she says. “And you’re the one crying, you little softie?” “You know me.” That is right, you do know her; you know it better than most that Sohyun is soft and kind at heart, and it’s solely because of her styling choices that make her look, for a lack of better term, cold.

You hand Sohyun the big tumbler, and she immediately takes a sip. “Oh, that’s nice—thanks, daddy.” She then guides it towards Xinyu and helps her take a sip, getting a peck on the cheek as a reward.

“So, what now?” “Xinyu said she wanted one more round, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to do it now; she doesn’t look to be in the mood,” you say. Sohyun chuckles a little. “She’s always like that; she’ll say that she wants more but run out of energy after the first round.” Based on how Xinyu isn’t refuting, Sohyun’s words must be right. “I guess we can keep it for later; we still have time, don’t we?” “Yes, we do.”

-

You’re about to boot up a game on your PlayStation when Xinyu jumps on the sofa and puts her head on your thighs. “What are we playing, daddy?” “I’m thinking about a sports game; I don’t feel like thinking too much tonight.” She chuckles. “Never thought I’d hear such words from a Dean’s List guy.” You laugh. “I mean, I use so much brain space for my studies that I don’t want to use more of it to play games.”

You start NBA 2K and jump into a quick match. The game has you take control of the New York Knicks and play against the Brooklyn Nets. On your first possession, while controlling Jalen Brunson, you manage to make a 3-point basket off a catch. “These guys in black could use your help, baby,” you comment, making Xinyu giggle. “Maybe I should consider learning basketball—wait, you play basketball, don’t you?” “I used to but haven’t played in quite some time now.”

At one point in the 3rd quarter, Sohyun joins you and Xinyu on the sofa. “76 to 83, really?” “McBride couldn’t hit a shot to save his life,” you complain, adding a sigh to emphasize your annoyance. “Excuses, excuses.” In a moment of desperation with a few seconds to go in the 3rd, you do a little pick-and-roll with Brunson and McBride, and finally, you manage to make a long-range shot with him. “Goodness me, that was so frustrating.”

Sohyun says she wants to make a bet with you, and the term is that if she can win the game with a margin of at least 10 points, you’ll do something for her, and if she can’t, she’ll do something for you. You hand the controller over to her. “Do your worst, baby.” Sohyun is quite experienced in playing video games, specifically NBA 2K, so the chance of success for her is actually decent. It’s just a matter of whether she can make shots to not only come back from the deficit but also get a 10-point lead.

She immediately goes quiet after making the first layup, putting on her signature “I’m fully concentrating” face that includes a little pout. “Look at her, babe,” you say to Xinyu who then laughs at the sight. Sohyun mumbles something, seemingly annoyed, when Jericho Sims fails to score a contested attempt near the basket. “Oof, unfortunate, Miss Park,” you tease her. She gives you a short glare before turning her focus back on the game.

Sohyun is currently going on a scoring run, and with less than 2 minutes left, she’s up by 6 points. Similar to how you did it with Miles McBride, she does a rolling screen and follows it up with a 3-point attempt with Karl-Anthony Towns. “Oh, God, please go in.” The ball rattles around the rim for a moment before going through the net, and you swear that all three of you let out a sigh of relief at the same time. “Don’t bottle it now, Sohyun-ah,” you say.

Unfortunately for her, however, Cam Thomas manages to slip through the defense for a layup, which means that she’ll need 3 points on the other end of the court to win the bet. You notice that she’s gripping the controller harder as she tries to use the little time she has left in the game to get that 10-point lead. With Jalen Brunson leading the team across the court, she calls for another screen with Towns, but instead of using it to go towards the paint, she backs off and takes a shot from the 3-point area. “Oh my God,” she says, out of breath, “I made it—I won the bet.” You want to say that she technically hasn’t won the game yet, but you don’t want to point that out and potentially ruin her mood. “Congratulations,” you reply, “so, what do you want?”

Sohyun sets the controller down gently on the table in front of the sofa. “Well, why don’t we have sex one more time?” “That’s a lot of sex in a day,” you comment. “Surely you’re strong enough for it—also, I won the bet.” You see that Xinyu is looking at you, waiting for you to say the correct response. “Yeah, alright,” you say, “let’s have sex, then.”

You follow her back to your bedroom, and when you’re right in front of your bed, Sohyun plants her hands on your chest, making you tumble backwards onto it. “Watch me strip.” She wastes little time getting rid of her clothes, letting them scatter on the bedroom floor for the nth time this weekend. “One day, if we have time, I’ll invite you over and we won’t wear anything indoors; we’ll just have sex whenever and wherever,” she says. “Shit, that sounds crazy.”

In the corner of your vision, you notice that Xinyu is joining you and Sohyun in the room. “Sorry, but daddy is mine, baby.” “W-what are you going to do with him, mommy?” “I’m going to take him in my ass.” Her words make you hard instantly, so you move to undress yourself quickly. “Look at him, he must be excited.”

Seeing that you’ve ridden of your clothes, Sohyun jumps onto your lap, your erect cock pressed against her firm tummy. “This is going to hurt like a bitch, isn’t it, daddy?” “I mean, lube can help with that.” She scoffs. “Where’s the fun in that?” “Well, where’s the fun in painful sex?” Your counter makes her roll her eyes, and you’re unsure what it means.

You get some idea when Sohyun lifts her butt and takes you in her pussy; she’s probably suggesting that her pussy will be able to coat your shaft before it goes in her ass. “Oh, that’s so hot.” “Better than a dildo, hey?” “Much better,” she whispers, creating goosebumps all over your body. It is when she begins fucking herself on your cock that moans start flowing out of her parted lips.

You almost want to protest when she removes you from her pussy. “That should be enough lube,” she says. Sohyun then pulls you onto your feet, bends over, and spreads her butt to expose her puckered hole. “Fuck my ass, daddy.” You add more lube onto your cock in the form of spit, hoping that it’ll be easier for both of you to do this. “Here I go, then.”

With your tip poking her rear, you move forwards and force your way into Sohyun’s ass. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You spank her a few times, and she lets out more dirty words in response. “Oi,” you turn briefly to Xinyu, “watch us and don’t touch yourself, or else.” Having fixed your hands on her waist, you start fucking Sohyun’s ass recklessly, and based on the sound of her moans, it’s nearly too much for her, but fuck it, it was her idea to not use proper lube.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” she chants mindlessly amidst the clapping sounds, “you’re in my ass, daddy.” Her tight ass stifles your tongue, making you unable to respond verbally, so you use your shaft to do the talking, and that is when Sohyun starts screaming out loud as if it was her first time all over again.

You don’t how long you’ve been pounding her ass like—wait, what on Earth is that sound? Your attention is seized when you hear splashing sounds on the floor. “You’re really squirting from this, huh?” Sohyun nods weakly against the mattress. “I-it’s too fucking good, daddy.”

You pull out of her tight ass and flip her onto her stomach. “You have two choices to atone for the mess right now: one is to continue getting fucked in the ass until I cum, and the other is to fuck Xinyu with me until I cum.” Sohyun’s lips form a naughty smile. “Let’s fuck Xinyu together, daddy; she said she wanted it, didn’t she?”

Xinyu looks at you nervously. “B-both of you a-at the same time?” “You asked for it, remember?” She did, but now that she’s about to get it, she’s getting nervous. “No longer interested in being a good girl for mommy and daddy?” Xinyu grabs the strap-on from the bedside table and hands it over to Sohyun. “I-I’ll always be good for mommy and daddy.”

You help Sohyun get onto her feet and put on the sex toy while Xinyu positions her naked self in the middle of the bed. “So, do you want to be in her pussy or ass?” “I’ll fuck her pussy first, and then we can swap,” Sohyun says.

Before you start this wild session, you make sure Xinyu is on board first. “Baby, I know we’ve been acting weird, but do you consent?” She nods slightly. “Y-yes, b-but I’m nervous.” You put on a soft smile for her, in contrast of your hard cock. “Mommy will do it first, and I’ll join after, okay?” “O-okay, daddy.”

Sohyun lies in bed, and Xinyu moves to sit on the fake dick, moaning as more of it enters her body. You let her get comfortable with Sohyun before even thinking about joining. Based on how fast she’s bouncing on Sohyun’s lap, you guess that she must be pretty damn horny from watching the two of you earlier.

“Daddy,” Xinyu turns her head to see you, “I’m ready now.” You take a spot behind her and aim your cock at her rear. “If you want to stop, just scream, okay?” She gives you a nod, and that is when you negotiate your shaft into her, going deep right away. “Oh, oh, God, fuck,” she scrunches her forehead, overwhelmed by how stuffed she is. “Fuck, I-I’m so full.” You slowly move your cock back and forth in her ass, and as high-pitched moans escape Xinyu’s lips in abundance, Sohyun starts moving too.

“P-please,” Xinyu says, “fuck me, please—fuck me, fuck me!” You and Sohyun try to maintain this alternating combination where the two of you take turns thrusting into Xinyu. Among the loud moans, sometimes Xinyu lets out hisses too, especially when it’s your turn to thrust into her. “My ass—fuck, my ass is on fire, daddy.” “I know,” is your answer, because the way her muscles are gripping your cock hampers your brain’s capabilities like none other.

“T-timeout.” Xinyu moves forwards with all the strength she can muster up, removing you and Sohyun from her ass and pussy respectively, and rolls onto the bed. You keep your eyes on her as she starts rubbing herself. “MOMMY, HOLD ME!” She screams as her body is reacting violently to the orgasm; her thighs and legs are the parts that are shaking the most.

Sohyun has her limbs wrapped around her girlfriend, adhering to the latter’s request of being held. “You’re fine, baby; you’re perfectly safe in my arms.” She keeps whispering nice words that you hope aren’t falling to deaf ears because they’re that sweet, especially considering the context. “I’m so proud of you, baby—you did so, so well,” Sohyun adds.

“I-I can’t,” Xinyu is panting heavily, “I can’t continue.” You ask if she’s in pain, but she says no; it’s just that she’s very drained. “Well, that’s unfortunate,” you think, only concerned about yourself and the fact that you’re potentially getting blue-balled. Your eyes happen to land on Sohyun, and she promptly invites you to get in between her legs.

“I know what you’re thinking, daddy,” she says, “give it to me—I’m her legal representative.” You laugh. “What are you talking about, babe?” Sohyun joins you in laughing. “Well, you know what I meant.” She invites you to lie down on the bed next to Xinyu, who is somewhat serene now. “Do you have condoms?” You nod and point at the bedside table on the other side of the bed, next to Xinyu, and Sohyun grabs two of them. She uses one to envelope her rubber dick and tosses the other to you. “Put that on,” she says, “ass-to-pussy sounds like a recipe for STD.”

Sohyun jumps back onto the bed, her knees set on either side of your thighs and her pussy floating closely over the tip of your cock while her hand is busy trying to shove the dildo part of the strap-on into her ass. “Oh, ngh, fuck.” You hold her hands as she squirms around, getting used to the sensation in her rear. “I-I’m ready.” “So am I, baby.”

You move your hands onto her hips and guide her towards your cock, and the sensation of being double stuffed makes her moan loudly right away. “Daddy, daddy,” she calls to you breathily, “I-I’m so fucking full, daddy.” You want to say something back, but first, you take a deep breath because it feels like her pussy is squeezing your cock more tightly. “Fuck, you’re much tighter like this, baby,” you utter. “Oh, oh, fuck—really, daddy?” “I think—oh, God, yes, you are.”

Sohyun slowly lifts her hips off yours and goes down again just as slowly, savoring the first moments of double penetration. “Fuck, I-I feel bad for Xinyu now,” she says, “w-we went hard on her, daddy.” Your eyes quickly move to the side to look at Xinyu, whose jaw is dropped, wordless at the sight in front of her. “W-we’ll make it up to her later, baby.”

Without command, Sohyun begins bouncing on your cock, unintelligible sounds escaping her lips as she does. “Oh, God, sorry.” She stops momentarily when she loses balance. You hold her hands and place them on your chest to help her stabilize, and now that her tits are within arm’s reach, you take them in your hands. “Fuck, I knew that would happen.” You chuckle a little. “I don’t want you to fall.” She smiles a little before resuming her movements, and in the corner of your eyes, you happen to spot Xinyu rubbing herself, no longer stunned by the view you and Sohyun are providing.

You don’t know how long Sohyun has been fucking herself on your cock, but one thing that’s certain is that your orgasm is not that far away now. “B-baby,” your voice is breathy, “I-I won’t last long.” Your words make her pick up the pace. “I-I’m close too,” she says, just as breathy as you are.

You’re surprised when Xinyu suddenly sits on your face. If only she was facing the other way, you’d be able to breathe, but then she’d not be able to kiss Sohyun, so you’ll make do of this situation. You run your tongue back and forth across her pussy, occasionally mixing things up by licking her little nub. You use your strong hands to hold Xinyu down whenever she jolts around too much so that your tongue won’t miss its target.

You’re a bit concerned when you feel yourself twitching in Sohyun’s pussy—you haven’t asked if she wanted it inside or not, but at least she’s on top; she’ll be able to remove your cock from her insides easily if she wishes so. “Yes, fuck!” Despite your ears being blocked by Xinyu’s thighs, you can still hear Sohyun’s scream when you release hot semen into her. “Oh, I came inside, huh?”

Xinyu finally gets off your face, and that is when you can see Sohyun’s high-from-orgasm face; her forehead is drenched in sweat, her thighs are shaking subtly, and her mouth is wide open. “T-that’s so hot,” she says, “h-how are you always so hot, daddy.” “I-I don’t know,” you reply simply. Sohyun gradually lifts herself off your cock, letting some excess semen drip out of her pussy and onto your crotch. “I-I’m done, I can’t take any more,” she says. You notice that she’s getting limp, so you pull her into an embrace before she falls in a less-favorable direction—wouldn’t want her to fall off the bed and onto the floor, would you?

Sohyun takes advantage of the position and kisses you warmly. “I love you, daddy.” “I love you more—I love both of you,” you correct yourself. She lets out a small giggle. “Y-you’re going to have to take us home later, daddy.” “Gladly,” you give her a peck on the lips, “but you’re going to help me change the sheets and clean things up first, okay?”

[monimccoythings]

Mending each other's hearts II

Jesus, this took forever. I'm having so much fun writing this, for real. However I think I'll have to do a third part because GOSH do I love angstiness and suffering. One thing I also love is Jean being a wingman and such a cool friend I want to work more with that.

tw: logan is a caveman and a brute, and possibly emotionally constipated, really; a bit angsty.

I have no idea about clubs, I just googled New York clubs and picked the coolest looking.

tags: @kathieycarrerarosshley (I'm not sure if there's anybody else, sorry, I don't usually check the notes :()

Part I │ Part II (You're here!!)

He basically jumped down the stairs, nearly crashing into several innocent students. Like Hell he was going to allow you to do that to yourself. You were not some cheap whore who did one-night-stands. You were so sweet, so innocent, that the thought of having anyone touch you inappropriately, rubbing themselves against your body, tainting you with their dirty hands made his stomach churn and his claws start to come out.

Despite running as if the literal Devil was chasing him, all his efforts were for nothing, because when he barged through the front doors of the mansion he could already hear the gears of your car speeding up, miles away. Fuck, he was too late; but maybe, if he traced your scent, if he went now to his motorbike he may be able to catch you and stop this madness. As he turned around, he narrowly avoided his keys being psychically thrown towards him. Jean looked at him with a determined look on her face.

“Lavo, go. NOW.” Her voice commanded no objection, and for once, he would happily obey orders.

He usually was very careful with his motorbike, an old lady deserved to be treated with respect, but not tonight, there was not a second to lose. Muttering a quiet apology to his dear ride, he sped off towards the city, silently praying to a god he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t done anything you would regret later.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You felt a sense of excitement settle in your lower belly. Look at you, a grown adult, dressing up all cute and going on your own adventures in the Big Apple, you felt like you were going to squeal like a little girl, either that or you needed to stop the car and puke.

You knew exactly where to go, where the good stuff would be; under normal conditions you wouldn’t be allowed in, so that’s why you were planning to use your powers to sneak in. Maybe you were just some plain teacher at a private school for mutants but that didn’t mean you didn’t have tricks up your sleeve.

A sudden memory of the real reason this was all about, made your heart twist with ache and longing. The memory of Logan and Jean in that empty classroom would be forever engraved inside your mind, a confirmation that no matter what you did, you would never be enough. No. You mentally slapped yourself. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself like that. The only thing invisible about you were your powers. Tonight, you were going to feel beautiful, appreciated, and most importantly, desired. A pang of anxiety hitted you, what if nobody notices? The real possibility of being made into a fool once again was scary and nearly made you turn away and return home with your tail between your legs. They will. Maybe it was that part of you that had been kicked long enough talking, you would never know, but it gave you enough confidence to keep going.

You made sure to park your car as far as you could, you didn’t want anything to associate you with that little stunt you were about to pull. You casually walked into a nearby alleyway to turn yourself invisible, the last thing this night needed was a public scandal. 

There was truly something magical about walking down the street while you were invisible, it made you feel confident and powerful. Nobody could harm you if they didn’t know you were there. You watched couples pass by pampering each other, a group of drunk college freshmans trying their best to walk in a straight line, you could observe every single detail on them without feeling like a creep. Sometimes you wondered why you didn't have your mutation on at all times. It certainly would make your life easier.

Before you knew it, you had already arrived at your destination. Taking advantage of some rich boy skipping line, you glued yourself to his back and entered, making a little squeal that startled the poor security guard.

The place took your breath away.

Lavo was one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Manhattan. One night there (paying the entrance and restaurant, of course) would probably cost you half your salary. You knew Charles could afford it, but you weren’t going to ask him to bill the start of your party girl era.

A sudden realization left you filled with embarrassment; you had entered, now what. In a desperate way to fit in, you decided that the most suitable course of action would be to look for a place to turn visible again and go for a drink.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Logan lost count of how many traffic laws he broke that night, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to reach you. Each time he imagined a worse scenario that somehow always ended with you in the arms of another man, enjoying his caresses and kisses. He panicked, making his grip on the handlebar painfully tighten. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, and he also didn’t know what he would do if he found you with a suitor.

He wasn’t impressed at all by the imposing building, and he was less impressed by the regulars. Bunch of spoiled rich brats, if someone asks him.

The security guard wasn’t in the mood to let him in and less while looking like that, but since he didn’t have time nor the patience to deal with any form of bullshit, he opted to launch him across the street with a single punch instead of pulling out his claws, leaving the crowd completely silent.

The inside was as bad as the outside, or even worse. He didn’t like that place at all, too many people, too much noise and too many smells. It overwhelmed him. How the fuck was he supposed to find you there. He showed his way among the crowd, ignoring the grunts and complaints from the people surrounding him, fuck them all. His heightened senses were practically screaming at him to go wild and ravage the place until he got you.

His hunting instincts told him to look for some dark corner where he could keep a close watch on the entire club, it’d be easier, and quieter for him. He could do without all that modern music drilling his ears. Some goddamned peace and tranquility would help him focus.

He didn’t need to wait for long until his eyes settled on you. On the dancefloor, with a glass in your hand, and a man glued to your back with his lips dangerously close to your neck.

Logan saw red.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As you took a sip of your grasshopper, you wondered why you had been worried in the first place. Just one look at how that dress hugged your ass and you had several men eating from your palm. You had to confess that even if it flattered you, it was a bit suffocating having that much attention all of a sudden.

The man you had picked for the night, Kelsey? Kevin?, you hadn't heard it well with the lous music, was actually kinda nice. Out of all of the men that surrounded you he had been the only one to actually try to start some friendly conversation before hitting on you. That sweet attempt just earned him some brownie points. That and that body which seemed to have been sculpted by the gods. Damn, what did they feed him?. His hands moved closely to your hips, and you couldn’t help but wish those arms that held you were bigger, and hairier. You shook your head. Focus on the Adonis right behind you. The one who was going to make you feel so good tonight. You could already imagine it.

But fantasies were just that. Fantasies.

An altercation snapped you out of your daydream. Someone was pushing his way quite violently towards the dancefloor, and by the sound of those screams of protest he wasn’t being very gentle.

The blood froze in your veins when you saw who was approaching. No. How. Why. Millions of questions ran through your mind, your body screaming at you to run, but you were paralyzed with fear.

You had never seen that look on Logan.

Feral.

Wild.

Monster.

You had heard people describe him with those words since the very first day you had met him. Coming from both humans and mutants. You had never paid them any attention, being so confident in knowing that despite his gruff exterior, inside there was hidden a golden heart just as big as his muscles. But now you were considering that despite knowing that, maybe the others had some point in their arguments.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

He was getting closer. Unconsciously, you put yourself in front of your dancing partner, despite knowing that whatever little mutant trick you had was useless against The Wolverine’s blind fury. Yet, you weren’t going to let some innocent civilian get hurt because your friend was pissed at you for whatever stupid reason.

His eyes were unfocused, darting from one person to the other like a wild animal. You weren’t sure if he was able to see you at all.

“Logan. What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady, knowing that when he got like this, anything could really set him off and then all Hell would break loose. He grunted and finally looked at you. Pupils dilating when he got a better look of you in that dress.

“Home. Now.” Among all the noise it was hard to understand him, but whatever he’d said you were sure it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. It didn't help that those words resembled more growls than actual speech.

Your new friend, supposedly Kevin, tried to step forward, foolishly thinking he had a chance against one of the most vicious mutants to ever exist. Logan looked at him with barely restrained rage, breathing heavily. His stance, along with the strength the air came out of his nostrils reminded you of a bull ready to attack. You started fearing the worst.

Within a blink, Logan had grabbed your arm and was forcefully dragging you towards the emergency exit. You slammed your heels against the floor, trying to keep you grounded in your spot, but that only seemed to make him angrier. Quickly reaching down, he scooped you up and carried you over his broad shoulder, making you drop your drink and leaving you mortified to the point of nearly accidentally outing yourself as a mutant in a room full of people.

After what felt like the longest time of your lfe, you two made it outside that place and after several kicks and threats, he finally put you down in an alleyway where all the shame that filled you, all the embarrassment, turned into rage.

Why.

Why couldn't he let you have this?

Why wouldn’t he allow you to move on?

Why did he have to keep breaking your heart over and over again? Hadn’t you suffered enough?

You screamed at him, you pushed him and insulted him until your voice became hoarse. The force of your screams were drowned by the sound of an incoming storm. And he just stood there, taking it all in stride, just looking at you, like a marble statue. A less wise person would have thought he was bored, just waiting for you to scream your heart out and finish your tantrum. But his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that always made you melt, were filled with emotion. Could be guilt, could be pain, could be grief, they were passing far too quickly for you to notice.

Yet he still didn’t say anything which only fueled your anger. The nerve of him, the fucking audacity. You felt mocked, humiliated, the laughingstock of Xavier’s School; a silly woman in her early thirties with a pathetic little girl crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of the day.

You slapped him as hard as you could.

Probably not the smartest thing given his bones were made of the toughest metal to ever exist which you instantly felt when your hand made contact with his cheek. You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the agonizing scream of pain that was crawling up your throat to get out.

That made him react, his expression changing into one of concern. He tried to say something, move closer to you and check your hand, but you stepped back, your back pressed against the brick wall.

Holding your injured hand with your other, you lowered your head. Rain started pouring on you both, drenching your carefully groomed hair and wiping all that expensive makeup away. But at least it would hide the tears that fell freely though your cheeks. 

What a mess you were, drenched like a wet cat, with your makeup ruined and sobbing while the man of your dreams just watched you with pity. You should leave and lock yourself in your room. Turning invisible again, you tried to make your exit towards your car, knowing it would be a long walk full of cries and sobs, but his arm blocked you, damn that sharp sense of smell. you turned around and his other arm blocked you again, effectively trapping you between himself and the wall.

Suddenly you found yourself very tired, of his games, of being screwed over and over again, of your emotional burst. You just wanted to go home, take a bath, and sleep. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Please. I want to go home.” There must have been something in your voice so broken that caused him to immediately take action. Logan suddenly had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself, after that stunt he pulled off at the club, however you couldn’t care less right now. Muttering a quick ‘yeah’ he slowly pulled away from you, and awkwardly stepped back.

Not being used to walking on heels, you would have fell face first against the ground, putting the icing on the cake of that terrible night, had not a pair of strong arms caught you and lifted you into a bridal carry.

Not so long ago, you would have been all over the moon at this gesture. Logan Howlett, the hunk of the X-Mansion, carrying you like a princess. Yeah, the old you would have loved that.

Right now you were feeling too emotionally numb to care. Even when his arms pulled you closer to his chest, even when he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head.

You just couldn’t feel anything.

[writingquestionsanswered]

how do i create a religion? thanks <3

Creating a Fantasy Religion

1 - Go Back to the Beginning - Religion evolves as a way of creating order in a community by providing context for unexplainable things, creating a code of conduct, and giving a community a sense of control over things that otherwise feel uncontrollable. So, it helps to imagine back to the early days of your story's world... what things were important in this world that the early inhabitants might have created gods and goddesses for, or might have believed a god was in control of. What were the environmental clues and factors that helped inform these beliefs? What beliefs and rituals would have evolved around these elements?

2 - What Did it Evolve Into? Once you know how this religion got started, you can look at what it evolved into as this world progressed to where it is at the start of your story. How did those early beliefs and rituals evolve to meet the needs of people living in the world of your story as it is now? What are the gods/goddesses or god? What do they represent? How are they worshiped? Are there churches, temples, something else? Is there community worship or is it done privately? Are there important rituals or holy days? Are there figureheads who represent a "middleman" between the worshipers and the worshiped? Priests, shamans, or other religious leaders? What is the popular mythology and stories that come up frequently? How do all of these elements translate into a character's daily life in this world?

3 - Consider Using Real World Inspiration - You may want to look at real world religions for inspiration. See if you can find one that closely matches the type of religion you want to create, then look to see what the framework is like, how it evolved, what it's like today, and how it fits into the world and lives of its adherents.

Happy writing!

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[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention off him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[runaeveena]

Your dashboard if you were in a d&d fantasy world still involved in fictional erotica discourse part 2

⛰️ berenicesblade Follow

now that the new Mountain Angel volume has come out can we please tag spoilers, some of us are still waiting for our pigeon mail

🦚 faeynadaughter Follow

you can access the volume in full on TomePlane!

🎭 bardcampistrash Follow

until TomePlane acknowledges that its interplanar storage is made possible by binding aboleths to the plane and killing them then we are going to continue not using that platform, thanks

🦚 faeynadaughter Follow

aboleths killed my cousin who was a royal cleric. ill never understand why theres a whole movement to protect abyssal creatures when theyve caused so much damage to our kingdoms. and disliking a pocket dimension which provides thousands of people access to books? your attitude reeks of anti literaturism and mal-aligned virtue signaling and im not sure which is worse

🫒 tenthday237 Follow

Aliizya gets pregnant on page 62

⛰️ berenicesblade Follow

banished

620 Notes

🏰 finchtruther Follow

okay but the way that faelor finch writes every song that perfectly fits pennbiel liiike its giving closet fangirl

🧭 waywardwarlock

seriouslyy!! like what else is "give me your unmarked hand / in the shadowfell we won't be a secret" supposed to be about if not pennipher and corabiel

16 Notes

🌫️ cloudgiant-snailboy Follow

yall please dont fill up the unseen servant tag with your super fucking weird smut posts im just looking for tips on how to find my unseen servant

🪡 scç-writer

the search function on tomeblr does need to be updated but we dont have to kinkshame :)

🌫️ cloudgiant-snailboy Follow

the site is being overrun by virgin degenerates

🍯 treebarkhookhandwagondoor

sounds like you need Wilam the Wizard with Wandering Hands to help you summon the unseen stick in your ass

290 Notes

🗝️ crypt-princess Follow

so whose going to be the first to commission a painting of that scene with Aliizya and the beholder 👀

🍎 bloodmaledickening Follow

i already asked my local artisan he said he's gotten two other commissions for the same scene lmao

🐁 softbarbarian

girl i commissioned a tapestry

45 Notes

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

friendly reminder that devil deals are a real thing that a lot of people fall victim too and that demons are malicious and do destroy peoples lives if theyre not careful so please be careful when consuming works like Hellionfinity which romanticizes devil deals and fiendish soul contracts

🌾entangled-farmer Follow

imo any work of fiction that involves a romance between any type of fiend is not just problematic but harmful

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

i used to be indifferent to books that had devil romance interests because like thats their whole thing theyre seducing people to get their souls and the mc overcomes it, but reading through the replies i see that Hellionfinity actually ends with the devil character as the main romantic lead which is super problematic in terms of power imbalance and the fact that he has a redemption arc is so out of touch especially since our military is finally recovering from the azgurian assault

🧚🏻‍♂️arms-of-faelor

helliofinity also has a scene where the main character uses a soul coin that an imprisoned mortal gave him and he uses it to bring the devil out of avernus so he doesnt fully die and no one in the book mentions it or talks about how messed up it is to use soul coins and we never see the now bound to hell prisoner ever again

🕯️ andersfirelight Follow

hellionfinity officially cancelled on my end!

88 Notes

☘️ celest-ial Follow

moment of silence for all the customers waiting on drink orders while the tavern wench gets her back blown out by a new guy every night ✊😔

🦁 king-killa Follow

the gods work hard but Girthy Gladys gets worked harder

57,022 Notes

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

paladin and warlock romances are OUT! cleric and necromancer romances are IN!

🪭 royalcoinpurse Follow

the only thing a cleric should do to a necromancer is beat him to death so she can revive him and kill him again

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

❇️ arch-dryad Follow

i think we need to analyze why we're so quick to place women in categories of devious seductress or healer in romance novels as if that hasnt been the pervasive trope that holds magic-touched women back in our actual society

🍯 treebarkhookhandwagondoor

why do you assume these fictional tropes are mf couples only? can a gay cleric not beat his gay necromancer boyfriend to death?

🎲 beholdersbeholdingme

and off! beat him off cmon guys

5,275 Notes

🧀 weremouse Follow

yall ever be talking or whatnot and feel like no one understands you

🪨 sebrenenogdon Follow

ᛄᚠ ᛡᚢ ᚳᚪ�� ᚱᛁᛞ ᚦᛄᛋ ᛡᚢ ᚺᚪᚠ ᛏᚢ ᚱᛁᛒᛚᚪᚷ ᚦᛄᛋ

🧀 weremouse Follow

say that shit fr (<- looking around clueless)

🪨 sebrenenogdon Follow

ᛋᛁᚱᛁᚪᛋᛚᛁ

60 Notes

🌠 crownofstars

remember when that person made a call out post for the author of ilairepeler for using a ghost writer and it turned out the author was an actual ghost. writing. like a literal ghost writer. like.

🍄gnomestool Follow

arent you the dwarf that fucked a slaad

🌠 crownofstars

how would you like to become a ghost so you can write more witty comments like this for eternity

301 Notes

[moonrisecoeur]

Ur the best sub Leon writer soooo… idk if you seen these but ppl treat las plagas parasite as sex pollen 😭 and I’m so here for it. Concept : re4 leon infected by the parasite OK but he starts out very agressive but ofc he’s a sub so he does whatever reader wants in order to yk… achieve the goal of the parasite (breeding 😔 who said that? Not me) And pls make the reader mean, I love mean femdoms sm, they are chefs kiss. If you need more clarification post it I’ll send another one idk but I’m just seeing what YOU come up with. LOVE UR WRITING btw I love how it’s pretty in character tbh cuz I read ur bully Leon one and I was like “yeah fr like he’s too caring to be a bully 💀”

OMG WAIT MY DUMBASS FORGOT TO ADD: you said smth so mean to him that he came too early. He was so sorry for coming early and the mess he made in you But then he continued to keep going trying to pump more- OK SORRY

the BEST?? idk about that but i shall take ur compliment and deliver to you only my best work so thank u bestie i appreciate it sm !! ^-^

las plagas is crazy cuz like the black veins, the loss of control with your physical body, the pain it causes… that’s literally so hot. leon was so fuckable all of re4 but especially in the scenes where his body is being controlled that man is SCRUMPTIOUS

also just so you know. the veins on his dick are black as well ♡

no pronouns mentioned, afab parts mentioned, plaga leon has to be a top im sorry (technically in straight relationships men are always topping unless u count pegging BUT in this context i mean he’s a top more like ‘he’s a sub but he’ll fuck u stupid’ like that’s the vibe)

you spot his blonde hair from across the hall, running over to him excitedly. thank god you found him.

“leon!” you call out, grabbing the attention of the man in question, as you catch up to him. finally finding him in this nightmarish place after getting separated was the best thing possible, “holy crap, i’m so- i’m so glad you’re okay— woah, what… what happened to you?”

he takes a cautious step back, still seemingly holding a little bit of control over his body, “they said it was a gift in my…. my blood… don’t know what the fuck that was about..”

you take a step forward, reaching out your hand to touch his face, fingers tracing the black lines that were once veins invisible to the naked eye. but he stops you, his hand roughly grabbing your wrist, “don’t.”

“don’t… what?” you ask nervously, shoulders slumped.

“you need to… stay away from me,” he groans from pain, and you’re too worried to listen to his words, “stop, get away from me, you— i could hurt you! i don’t want to hurt you…”

but you don’t listen to him, betraying his wishes by shaking off his grip and reaching your hand out again. he can’t try to stop you this time. he moans, actually moans, when your fingertips touch his face, caressing him softly.

“really? it’s that good?” you ask with a small smirk on your face. leon thinks he could die.

“f-fuck…” he mumbles, finally coming closer to you. his hands wrap around your waist as he leans in for a kiss that you’re not ready for, and you both stumble backwards while you try to ground yourself.

he’s getting rough, aggressive, and you need to push back a little or else he’ll consume you entirely. not that you’d mind.

“leon, ease up,” you whisper, pushing him back slightly, and when a growl escapes his throat, you know he’s clearly not in any state to listen, “leon.”

he annoyedly makes eye contact with you, trying his best to listen to what you’re about to say. he is trying, and that’s the worst part. this is him at his most gentle, most restrained.

“you need to listen to me, okay? can you do that?” you ask softly, hand against his chest to keep him from diving too deep into you, and pressing a kiss to his lips. it’s softer. he moans into your mouth needily, but you don’t let him get rough. instead you sweetly get the taste of him. sure, it’s not a delicious taste, but he’s a delicious experience.

you enjoy the way he’s trying so intensely to control and contain himself, for your sake. he knows what you want from him is not his full fledged desires out in the open, completely unchecked.

when you pull away, he looks wrecked already, “please, you can’t do this to me, not if you’re just going to walk away and leave me desperate.”

part of you wants to reassure him. i’m not going to leave you. i would never abandon you when you need me most. but the other part just wants to ravage him, take all of him for yourself, leave nothing of him left but the perfection you’ve created. perfection in your eyes. maybe he’s not the only one infected with some kind of tainted desire.

instead, to accomplish both, you kiss him again, letting your own intensity and desire take over, potentially overpowering his. he whimpers, his shaky hands holding your hips for stability. he’s not being grossly possessive and rough like before. he’s softer now, pliable.

when you pull away, you whisper, “we need to get somewhere safe.”

“wha… what?”

“i need to take my time with you, and we’re not safe out in the open like this…” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to that sweet spot right below his ear. it’s so cute how truly weak leon is right now. sure, that’s always been his weakness, but it’s elevated multiple times over by this parasite in his blood. you have half the mind to thank that weird cult.

when you find a safe room, you’re immediately back on him, pushing him against the wall, enjoying the way he whimpers as you kiss him, his need for you multiplying by the minute.

“please, please, i need you, i need you so fucking bad, please, i need to take you, need to make you mine, need to—”

“shut up,” you groan, fingers roughly grabbing his jaw, pushing his head back and away from you, “you’re going to be good, or you won’t get what you want. i don’t care how badly you fucking need me, you’re going to be patient. you’re going to be nice and obedient or you’ll get nothing from me. and that little parasite inside of you is horrified at the idea that you won’t get to fuck my pretty pussy, hm?”

he looks pathetic, moaning like a whore at just some words, but it’s the way you say them, the way you say them, that kills him. he eventually calms himself down enough to nod with his eyes shut tightly, “i’ll do whatever you say. you know that.”

“lay down on the floor,” you command, almost growling back at him, and he opens his eyes in surprise.

“what?”

“you heard me. on the ground, beneath me, right now, leon,” your eyes narrow at him, enjoying the way he weakly sinks to his knees before sitting down completely and laying back.

“like this..?” he asks, confused. he doesn’t know what’s about to happen, and that excites him immensely.

you take off your belt with all your utility tools and your jeans along with it. then finally, your underwear. he looks up at you with wide, delicious eyes.

he asks so sweetly, even though he knows the answer, “are you… are you gonna make me..?”

“yeah, you are. i’m going to sit down on your pretty, pretty face and you’re going to enjoy every second of being beneath me, where you belong, servicing me, and making me cum.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of belonging beneath you, “yeah, fuck, okay—”

“—and you’re not going to fucking talk until i cum, got it?”

he nods, and once you sit down upon your throne, he gets right to work. he laps up the fluids of your cunt like a dog, working tirelessly, sucking on your clit and tongue fucking you. this is his place. he deserves nothing more than to be here with you, caving to your every desire even if all of his thoughts include breeding you and getting you pregnant with his babies. he’d do anything you asked if he could just have that.

he’d be at your service, at your mercy, until you chose to give him what he wanted.

but he makes you cum so fucking hard that it’s impossible to not give him what he wants, especially when rough hands grab onto your thighs as you’re cumming and he’s still giving you the head of your life through your orgasm. he grabs you just to stabilize you, but also to be possessive.

he can’t help how bad he’s gotten about jealousy and possessiveness with this parasite. he’s never been the jealous boyfriend, knowing you could hold your own and you’re loyal and stuff, but something about the way he looks at you now is different. it’s deep and primal. he looks at you like he needs to have you, and no one else can.

it’s insanely hot, but it’s also inconceivable how uncontrollable those urges are. leon has good self control, and you notice it in how he’s acting. again, this is him at his most restrained. he’s trying to keep himself from pouncing on you, taking everything he wants from you because he knows you don’t want that.

somewhere deep inside of him, he’s still himself, still that awkward and dorky guy that just wants to love you and give you everything you want. you wouldn’t want that.

when you roll off of him, laying down next to him to give yourself a moment to recover, you press a kiss to his shoulder, a sign that it’s an act, your harshness isn’t real. he returns the gesture by kissing the top of your head. a sign that he acknowledges your motives.

“please,” he whimpers suddenly, startling you out of your daze as his hand caresses your back softly, “i’ll let you control everything, you can do whatever you want with me, but fucking please, i’m so desperate to put my cock inside of your pussy, baby. i can’t think straight, and i’m trying so damn hard to control myself but i won’t be able to much longer…”

“yeah? you wanna put your cock inside of me? feel it throb inside the wetness and warmth of my cunt, fill me up with—”

he cuts you off with a loud moan, his hands grasping onto you and his eyes shutting tightly at the thought of such pleasure. he looks wrecked at the mere mention of cumming inside of you. you obviously have to capitalize on this fact.

“oh? so it’s the filling me up part, isn’t it? the ‘gift’ you have makes you really want to cum inside me, hm?” you say, smirking cruelly at him, watching his resolve crumble as he moans shamelessly, “do you want… breed me, leon?”

he gasps, breathing heavily. he’s incredibly wound up, and now you know the real reason he’s insatiable and uncontrollable, “f-fuck, i— it’s not that i want to, it’s that i need to… i need to fuck you and breed you so damn bad, i—”

you cover his mouth with the palm of your hand, enjoying the way he groan in pleasure when you straddle him. god, he’s not even inside of you, but he looks fucked out. he looks he’s about to burst already.

“god, you’re so fucking desperate,” you mumble to him, leaning in closer to whisper to him despite having him muzzled with your hand. not that he’d ever hurt you, he would never even imagine it, “you’re going to fuck me stupid, okay? you’re going to fuck me until my legs go numb and i can’t feel anything but you… and only when i tell you you can, you’ll breed me, fuck your cum even deeper into me and not let any of it escape. understood?”

he breathes shakily, not responding. obviously you forgot you have your hand over his mouth. when you take it off, he nervously says, “got it. i’ll… i’ll be good. i’ll make you feel so good.”

your voice is dark, cruel, full of malicious intent, “you fucking better, or i won’t let you cum. you’ll get to fuck me, sure, but i won’t ever give you the satisfying orgasm your body is desperately aching for. you won’t get to fill me up, and all you’ll have left to fuck for your little orgasm is your hand.”

his heart aches. the idea of disappointing you makes him feel a physical pit of nervousness in his stomach, the same ones he felt when he was more like himself. he just wants to feel like himself again.

“g-got it,” he whimpers. you get off of him, and he’s got you pinned immediately, gently resting you against the ground he was previously laying on. the image of you beneath him has him breathless. he feels like he’s worshipping a god with every move he makes.

he slides his cock into you, groaning at how easy it is, how wet you are. he bottoms out almost immediately, enjoying the way your body wraps around him in almost every sense. he silently adores you. he loves that you want him, crave him just like he craves you. that underneath all of your dominance, you’re his lover too.

fuck, he’s starting to feel possessive again. he beings to thrust into you, his body moving faster than either of you can handle, but you keep your cool better than he does.

“don’t let yourself start to think you’re in control,” you murmur, leaning up to press your lips to his shoulder, baring your teeth but not hard enough to draw blood. just enough to remind him of his place, “you belong to me. not the other way around, got it?” you growl into his ear.

he can’t even respond, too enraptured by your body and the feeling of your control over him leaving him a shuddering mess.

and you can’t even deny it. he’s putting in the work, thumb playing your with your clit just like how he knows you like, and clearly he’s getting the results he’s looking for. his body comes closer to the edge sooner than he’d like, but he tries to stave it off, for your sake.

still leaning into him, you whisper in your darkest voice, “maybe i should leave you like this, so you can stay this desperate… for me. i would try and cure you, but… not sure if i really care anymore.”

he shudders, voice giving out on him as he tries to plead with you. he cums without warning, obviously his body did it without the consent and go-ahead of his conscious mind. he already looks embarrassed at cumming without your permission. you don’t really have the mind to care right now, but you remember it for.. later.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck, leon, give it to me, give in to your cravings, your desires, your needs,” you moan in his ear, desperate for him, only him, and he’s yours, he’s all yours, it’s all he’s ever been and all he’ll ever be. he keep fucking you even after cumming, keeping you filled up, pushing it deeper, “make me yours.”

and he has no choice but to comply.

[sanguineterrain]

could I request a fic with insomniac!reader and tim? i love your writing im excited to see how you make his character your own! <3

thanks for the request! first time writing tim... kinda nervous like I'm on a first date 🫣 hope you like! this one isn't as mushy gushy as my usual fics (jason) so yeah. also my knowledge of yj is purely through fic 🤙

tim drake x gn!reader. tw insomnia, tim being so awkward but maybe... there are feelings... who can say. tim's character is so interesting to me (probably because I identify with him the most lmao).

****

It's really, really nice of the team to let you stay over tonight. Like, really nice.

You haven't even done much. You're pretty much a nobody in the superhero world, not even a D-list hero. Certainly not anybody that should be hanging out with the likes of Wonder Girl and Superboy and, God, Tim freakin' Drake.

Kon was just overly generous in his cool, brash way, herding you into a spare room after last night's battle. After tonight, you'll politely break away from the team to give them some reprieve. It didn't escape your notice that they didn't hang out last night like they usually do.

You've been awake for an hour now, listening for sounds of life in the corridor. If you were home, you'd already be on the couch watching crappy TV. But you really don't want to run into anyone here.

Maybe you have some chamomile tea leftover from the last time you stayed over. You hadn't stayed the whole night, slipping away without interference as most of the team had gone to their own homes.

You get up, stretching and popping joints. It's always a little cold in the Tower, and it wakes you up as you walk to the kitchen first. You're as quiet as you can be in heating the water and finding the tea.

You take your mug and head to the den. As you enter, you freeze.

Tim turns his head from his place on the couch. The blue light from the TV makes him paler, and his eyes bluer. Sometimes, he looks so much like Bruce Wayne, it startles you.

"Oh," you say, unsure what else to say. Your brain is tired and fried. "I... was just looking for my watch."

That's definitely your dumbest lie. You don't have a watch. Tim sure as fuck knows that.

His eyes flick to your wrist, as if reminding you both how stupid your lie is, then to your mug. He mutes the TV.

You stay where you are. Tim stands, obviously shouldering his own bout of insomnia.

"It's... you can come in," he says, just as awkward as you.

That's comforting. Tim's usually so suave, the few times you've interacted. He's all Gotham Heights, his upbringing never quite sloughing off no matter how many times he's probably tried to blend in and not be so... private school.

"I was just going to bed," he says quickly.

"No, you weren't," you say. You don't mean for it to come out so shrewd. Tim looks a little startled.

"I mean, you don't need to go," you add. "I'll take this to my room. It's fine. Sorry."

"No, I've been here too long anyway. I should work on my case."

Here's the thing. It's not that Tim avoids you because in order to do that, you'd have to see him more than three times a year.

But there's a distance. You've tried not to take it personally, tried to chalk it up to the fact that you're introverted and Kon and Bart are Kon and Bart, and Cassie's too straightforward to beat around the bush, and you've somehow won her over, which is nice.

And Tim is just... cautious. Paranoid.

Those are understatements, and you can't imagine the psychological damage caused by being raised by Batman, but, well, you've seen the previous and current Robins, so you can hazard a guess.

Anyway, Tim kind of acts like an unsocialized cat with you. You once mentioned it to Kon, in nicer words, but he dismissed you, saying, "Whaddya mean? Rob likes you!" Which had assuaged nothing, but whatever.

"I won't be here long," you say, as a last-ditch effort to not make it feel like you're kicking Tim out of his own space. "I just, uh, couldn't sleep."

He watches you in that freaky Bat way, like he's trying to determine if you're a threat or not. Jesus.

"It's hard for me to sleep after a battle," you add, trying to show your belly. That's how it feels, being around Tim Drake. Like you always need to be vulnerable first. Like you're in a battle of wills you didn't know you entered.

He doesn't sit down, but he does say, "Me too."

You nod and drink your cooling tea. "There's more tea in the kitchen if you want. Chamomile."

"I'm... good. Thanks."

You edge over to the armchair diagonal to the couch and sit.

"You can work in here," you say. "Unless, uh, it's too distracting. I'll keep the TV muted."

His laptop is on the other side of the couch. Tim is still, only his eyes moving from you to the laptop.

"I don't wanna push you out," you say.

"It's really fine," he replies immediately.

It's so not fine. This isn't boding well for your insomnia. You're definitely going to be agonizing over this interaction all week.

"I won't bother you," you say.

"I didn't say you would."

Then what's the problem?

Slowly, Tim returns to the couch. You look away, so it doesn't seem like you're watching his every move (you are), nor is Tim clocking your every move (he is).

He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You drink and try to figure out what's playing on TV. It looks to be a rerun of Columbo. You smile.

"You like Columbo?"

Tim looks spooked that you're still talking to him, but he answers. "Yeah."

"Me too."

You watch Columbo silently look for clues. Tim types, fingers flying over the keyboard. Then his fingers pause.

"I used to watch it with Dick," he says. "When I first became Robin."

You nod, giving him your full attention. "Yeah? He seems like the type."

"He does a pretty good impression of him. He likes detective shows."

"You don't?" you ask.

Tim shrugs. "They're fine. I guess I just hate how predictable they can be."

"Of course the boy genius would say that," you say, smirking.

Instantly, Tim's face turns to stone. He hums, looking back at his laptop. You blink. What happened?

"Sorry. That was a joke," you say.

"I know," Tim says, any trace of warmth gone.

You're startled by the shift. "I don't—I wasn't making fun of you. I mean, you are smart. Really smart."

Tim carefully looks at you. "...Thanks."

You nod clumsily. You should've just stayed in bed.

It's quiet for a long time. You're trying to muster up the confidence to escape to your room when Tim speaks again.

"People have said stuff like that to be facetious. I... reacted without reading your tone."

It's not an apology, but it's probably the closest thing you'll get.

"It's okay," you say.

Tim nods. His shoulders aren't so tense, though his posture is atrocious when he's off-duty.

He gets up and gives you the remote. You take it, smile small. Tim retreats.

"You can unmute it if you want. I don't mind."

So you do, and you and Tim spend the next hour half-watching Columbo and half-watching each other. Eventually, your tea finishes, and the episode ends, so you get up.

"I think I'll try and sleep," you say.

Tim nods. "Good luck."

You hum. "Thanks. Good luck with the case."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You wash the mug and leave it on the dish rack. Then you escape back to your room. You really do feel like you could sleep again. Maybe Columbo reruns are the magic ingredient to a good night's sleep.

[kittenintheden]

Smut Writing Tips

I could go on for 600 years on this so I cut myself off at seven basic tips for improving your smut writing. I don't know how to name this something that isn't suggestive so fuck it we ride at dawn etc. If you're having trouble writing smut/improving your smut writing, here are a few things that might help? I'm not the ultimate authority, do whatever you want, take what serves you and leave the rest, etc.

1) Get in touch with what turns you on. You can take this literally or figuratively. You don't have to be sexually active or even sexually aroused to write smut! It's not required. But you should know what gets you going, you know? Because whatever you're into, there are other people out there who are into it, too. Writing the things you're passionate about translates to the page. If you're disconnected from what you're writing, it's going to read that way.

2) Practice by translating a personal fantasy to text. THIS IS FOR YOU ONLY. Unless you like it enough to share? But this is an exercise to get you past the initial discomfort and embarrassment of writing sexy scenes. Many of us have romantic or sexual fantasies, even those on the ace/aro spectrum. When they live in our head, they feel safe. When we put them to the page, they suddenly EXIST in a space where someone else can theoretically perceive them. Getting comfortable with that takes a little bit of work/practice.

3) Try writing from the POV of the subject of the reader's desire. When I smut, I write from my OC's POV sometimes, but more often... I write from Astarion's. That's intentional. It's hot to feel DESIRED, to feel WANTED. Being in the subject's head means that the reader is experiencing that desire for themselves. There's power and sexiness in knowing you're making someone feel that way.

4) Physical description and positioning is great, but how do they FEEL? If you've ever heard the term "male gaze," you know it's frequently applied to visual media, especially where the subjects are treated as objects to be observed rather than people with interior thought and feeling. Smut WRITING gives us the opportunity to both describe the actions taking place and also the internal responses of the characters. It's not just what goes where, it's how that makes the body feel, the mind, the heart. It deepens the scene. Not everything needs to be "making love," but the tension and character interaction are still vital.

5) Realism is a fine base but it's not required. Look, there are a lot of smut tropes out there that are not REMOTELY based on reality and we love them anyway because a big part of this style of writing is the FANTASY of the thing. Like, yes, it's going to take some readers out if you're describing a position that's not physically possible. That's something that should be workshopped. But like. People come here for sex pollen and knotting. It's okay to be a little weird. Just consider the fantasy logistics.

6) Sometimes a little humor or awkwardness adds to the experience. Not everything has to be peak romance of the highest order, you know? Sex is messy and weird. If the participants can be a bit messy and weird together, it's both character-building and endearing. Don't be afraid to be like, oh this resulted in fluids and now we have to take care of that.

7) The tension is as important as the cumshot. Yeah I said that. An important piece of writing burning-hot smut is properly building tension. You can do that in a few words or many words. The ANTICIPATION, the WANTING, the not-quite-there-but-god-I-wanna-be of it all. It makes the release that much sweeter.

[bisexualiteaa]

Okay so this has been spinning in my head since I watched the series and it might come across as a but of a strange one 😅

BUT, please could you write one where the reader is pregnant(by someone else), meets Cooper along the way and they hit it off, they go through the pregnancy together, they then in the end they raise this little baby together. Sort of cute fluffy and a lil smutty too. Thank you! ☺️

A Slice of Paradise

Cooper Howard x Pregnant! Fem Reader (SMUT MDNI!!)

CW: slight OOC Cooper, slight deviation from the show, slight deviation from the game, pregnancy, pregnancy cravings, pregnancy hormones, blood, canon typical violence and gore, dirty jokes, cursing, talk of kinks, biting, 🩸 kink, p in v, unprotected seggs, p0rn with little plot, mention of knives, possible grammar/spelling errors, not proofread

AN: thank you anon for your request! My apologies that I’m getting to these asks so late, life has been rather eventful and I’m only just getting back into the swing of writing after forever long writers block. 🥲 I thank you for your patience and apologize that there isn’t a whole lot of fluff in this one but that it absolutely has ✨S P I C E.✨ Hope y’all enjoy my attempted return to writing for our dearest cowpoke, love you all! ♥️

Taglist: @expirednukacola

Trying to survive out in the wastelands while pregnant was not how you had imagined your life to be when you first found out that you were going to be having a baby. When you had first learned that you were pregnant, you were living comfortably within one of the vaults that dwelled beneath the irradiated surface. You had been matched with a fellow vault dweller who they deemed befitting in their mission to “help repopulate the surface” and in an effort to help your people, you agreed to the arrangement. The overseer, and all the other scientists and workers within the vault, claimed that there was no residence or anything living in general, up on the surface and that it would be up to you and your neighbors to fix that. Never in a million years did you think that vault life would go to such complete and utter shit that you would have to come to the surface in order to survive. Never in a million years did you also think that you would find anyone up here willing to stick by your side and not try to kill you in your sleep, and when you did, you had never expected your company to be that of a Wild West cowboy styled, bounty hunting ghoul. Needless to say, life up here was so vastly different than what they had spoken of in the vaults, that some days you swore it couldn’t be real, that it was all just one big fucked up dream that you’d wake up from any time now. But no, this was all very much real. If you made it out of this alive and long enough to see the world even somewhat recover, you were going to write a book on the long list of weird shit you’ve been through.

“I said, give me the damn supplies. NOW!” you spat angrily, pointing the barrel of your gun directly to a raider’s forehead as an extremely angry scowl came to rest across your face. “I suggest you do as the lady asks, kid. She ain’t someone you wanna mess with” Cooper spoke chillingly with a grin, knowing your pregnancy hormones were in full effect today, leaving you moody as all get out, and on days like this, you weren’t afraid to cause bodily harm, or worse, to get what you wanted or craved. Your baggy shirts hid your pregnant belly well, though you were only just now reaching somewhere around four months along, you still didn’t want strangers knowing you were pregnant. God only knows what people do out here to women with babies, and the last thing you needed was someone thinking it made you weak enough to take advantage of.

When the raider’s reaction wasn’t quick enough to your liking, you fired on him without a shred of remorse. Stepping past his limp, dead body to retrieve the box of supplies that you demanded for the bounty Cooper had completed, along with a healthy amount of caps, stimpacks and other supplies from off of his body. “It’s gon’ be one of those days, huh?” Cooper asked, taking the box from you because he might not be the kindest man, but he wasn’t about to make a pregnant lady lug a heavy box of supplies across the desert either. Granted, he knew it was probably wrong of him to insinuate what he had or to poke fun at you the way he was, the grimace and absolute apathy on your face as you shot the raider in cold blood gave him all he needed for his answer, but he knew all too well how to poke the bear, and enjoyed doing so far too much for your liking most days. “Yes. I’m fucking hungry, craving that stupid cram and he was pissing me off. Took too damn long to give us what we’re owed” you answered, your hand coming to your stomach as you complained. “We? That’s a bit of a strong word there, little lady. ‘Cause if I recall correctly, it was me who finished that bounty” he said, enjoying getting on your every last nerve on the worst days possible to do so. It was sadistic sure, but it reminded him of the days when his ex-wife was pregnant with their baby girl. In a twisted sort of way it reminded him of home. “You tryin’ to tell me you’re gonna leave a pregnant lady out in the desert all by her lonesome? Damn, I knew you were cold, didn’t think you were that cold” you joked back, making him laugh dryly. “Oh trust me honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet” he said, making you laugh. Thank god you were on his good side, you’d seen all the horrifying things he was capable of, or perhaps all the things he’s let you see that he was capable of. Regardless, you were glad he considered you a friend rather than foe.

Well, friend was a strong word once upon a time, but now? You two seemed to tread on a line somewhere between platonic and romantic, jumping back and forth between it like a tricky game of hopscotch. Though you could never be sure, like the rest of the ghoul, he was shrouded in much mystery. His heart and intentions were certainly no exception to that. “Woulda at least let the poor kid have a chance first, unlike you. So I guess you ain’t gettin’ that much farther behind me there, girly” he commented, making you chuckle at the remark and you supposed he had a point, you really didn’t give the raider enough time but your patience has been running thinner and thinner as of late. So you did as you always do, blame the pregnancy and what the hormones were doing to your brain, or make a snide joke at Cooper. “I’d blame the baby again for it, but maybe you’re just a bad influence” you quipped, making him chuckle dryly. “Honey, I am an awful influence” he replied, making you laugh as you both walked. “You aren’t so bad sometimes. But maybe it’s just ’cause you like me” you responded with a devious grin, making him shake his head playfully in denial. “Best watch it, my kindness’s got limits darlin’ and they get smaller and smaller everyday” he said, making you chuckle. “Likely story. I cook too good for you to kick me to the dusty curb” you teased, and it was true, you were too good at cooking but also too good looking to pass up. More personally, you were a reminder of the good ol’ days before all the wasteland bullshit started. A reminder of the family he once had. He craved oh so desperately to have that little slice of heaven back, and you scratched that itch in a near perfect way that he just couldn’t let you go. Whether he liked it or not, he knew he was growing attached, and as much as he didn’t like it, he knew there was no helping it either. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe if you felt the same way he did, you both could have a little family together once your baby was born. A daydream he often thought of, but that was for another time. Right now, he needed to focus on keeping you safe as you both looked for a spot to shack up for the night.

As you made it somewhere safe, or as “safe” as safe gets out here for the night, you didn’t waste time making some food to keep you, the baby and Cooper fed after a long day’s travel. “That looks about as appetizing as a hog’s ass in swamp water” he spoke as he looked to your bowl filled with Blamco Mac n Cheese and cubed up Cram all mixed together in instant mash. “Don’t judge me, it isn’t me that’s wanting it so damn bad, it’s the baby” you replied, making him chuckle. Sounded exactly like what his ex-wife used to say when she had some outlandish craving when she was pregnant. “Besides, that’s coming from the one that eats people” you quipped as you horked down your entire bowl with lightning speed, making him tilt his head to the side. “Touché” he responded before turning your way when he caught you standing up out of the corner of his eye. He watched as you rolled your tense shoulders and attempted to massage your lower back to relieve the ache that began to culminate there but with the displeased look on your face, it appeared your efforts were fruitless. You hobbled over to sit by the fire, finding yourself walking rather funny from the ache in your feet and the tension throbbing in your tight calves. “You’re a walkin’ hot mess there, girlfriend” he teased, watching you squat to sit down next to him as you attempted to rub your back once more with a pained hiss. You gave a defeated, and equally pained, groan after chuckling at his quip. “Tell me about it. Had I known I’d have to manage up here, I’d have never gotten pregnant in the first place” you replied, rubbing your stomach after your hands once again could not provide you the relief from the tension your body craved to be freed from. “How far ‘long are ya now?” He asked, and you genuinely had to sit there and think about it for a moment. You figured with the way you were only really just starting to show more prominently that you were just about four months along, but you couldn’t honestly remember no matter how hard you tried. “What day is it?” You asked genuinely, making him laugh. “Shit, you don’t even know. That’ll be one hell of a surprise down the road when it pops out at the worst possible timin’” he joked, making you chuckle. “It’ll be a blessing, to finally stop carrying around the extra weight right on top of my bladder and allow some other things to shrink down a little bit maybe” you said, making him hum in amusement.

“I think it looks good on you. Plump is hard to come by these days and you sugar, got one nice lookin’ peach” he said shamelessly, making you laugh as he talked about your ass. “That why you like makin’ me walk in front of you all the time?” You asked with a grin, making him grin. “Can’t say it ain’t one of the reasons” he replied, making you laugh. “Careful, hormones are one hell of a thing to mess with when you’re talking to a pregnant lady. Suggest you don’t go starting something you can’t finish there, Coop” you threatened playfully, making him chuckle at your response. “Oh I can finish it, don’t you worry. It’s you that wouldn’t be able to keep up with me, sweetheart. ‘Specially not like that” he said, making you grin and give an intrigued hum at the challenge he was presenting you with. “Ain’t no love makin’ up here baby-doll, it’s straight up fuckin’. Sure we take our time with it, make ya feel good because it ain’t easy to come by, but it ain’t nothin’ like that soft vanilla shit you vaulties do” he said, making you grin as you leaned back on your hands and you saw the way his eyes almost immediately roamed your body. From your neck, down to your full tits that seemed to have gotten a little bigger since last time he looked at you real good, then to that cute little bump in your tummy, down to your hips and thighs that he just wanted to get a nice handful of. He wondered how soft you would feel in his rough hands, if you’d like the contrast. “Oh yeah? Think I don’t have kinks and shit like that just ‘cause I was in a vault? Can promise you some of us “vaulties” get our rocks off in similar ways to you wasteland folk” you responded, waiting to hear what his rebuttal would be. “Oh yeah? Like what?” He asked, watching you grin to yourself as you gave a soft chuckle. Normally you would never forgo this type of information about yourself, but it was a whole different world up here in the wastes, and this was a whole different you from that woman who came stumbling out that vault just some few months ago.

“Well, obviously one of those kinks is what got me pregnant in the first place” you started, making him chuckle because despite it not being anything crazy, it was still a little more interesting than some. “I like being choked, but I feel like everyone likes that one so that might as well still be vanilla” you said, making him laugh because you were right, that shit isn’t a kink up here, it’s standard practice. “So you think you like it rough, huh?” He asked as he pulled out his hunting knife, cleaning it while you both conversed oddly casually about kinks. His question made you blush a bit, it caught you off guard that he put two and two together so quickly. “I don’t think, I know I do” you answered truthfully, making him grin. “Hell, I bet you ain’t seen rough. I’d reckon you ain’t ever been manhandled by someone or used as a means of blowin’ off some steam” he said, looking at his reflection in the knife and watching the way you looked at him as he handled it. You might have thought he missed it, but he noticed the subtle way your thighs clenched together as he fiddled with it and talked about you being used and tossed around like a rag doll. “I have, just not…well, it wasn’t very good but they at least tried I guess?” You said, almost as if you were asking him and not telling him, making him laugh. “You askin’ me or tellin’ me? ‘Cause you sure as hell don’t sound so sure anymore” he replied, making you sigh. “Fuck it, who am I kidding? It was fucking awful. It wasn’t at all what I wanted it to be” you quickly admitted, making him hum in reply. “I will say…you’ve made me discover a few new ones since we started traveling together” you said almost nonchalantly, and that most certainly caught his attention. “Oh yeah? And what might those be?” He asked, genuinely curious of what he could have done to awaken something in you. “People in my vault were afraid to be rough, whether during sex or not but you aren’t and I like that a lot about you. I know you probably think I’m joking when I say I like “rough” or think I have no idea what rough entails but I do. I like being tied up, having knives involved, and getting manhandled and stuff like that” you said, making him chuckle at the very innocent seeming you, admitting to liking dangerous things. “That so, vaultie?” He asked, not wishing to admit just how much your bashful admission had gotten to him and instead was thankful for making you roll your eyes at the nickname to avoid catching sight of the issue beginning to grow in his pants at all the ideas now rummaging through his brain like a rampant wildfire. “That why you like starin’ at my knife each time I use it? And why you didn’t protest when I tied you up when we first met?” He asked, and you were almost mortified at his question, knowing now that he’d noticed all the times you’d sat there, infatuated by the way he used it. Embarrassed that he caught the look in your eyes the first time his fierce ones met your own as he bound your wrists together and walked around with you like a prisoner on a leash. “Yeah…didn’t think you caught me on it though. But enough about me and my kinks, how ‘bout you? What about sex with you is so different, huh?” You asked, trying your best to move the subject away from you but your question was like the cherry on top of his fucked up thoughts, making an evil grin stretch to his lips as you laid the perfect opportunity out for him to take.

“How ‘bout you come and find out for yourself, sugar?” He asked, taking you off guard by his advance, but you couldn’t deny the way it sent a surge of heat straight to your core at such a straight forward answer. The pregnancy hormones had been eating you alive lately, making you stare at him in ways you shouldn’t have, thinking about him in ways you knew you shouldn’t. Old you would have kicked yourself for thinking the way you had been and allowing yourself to seem so desperate, but you two were close enough at this point. It wasn’t as if you were stooping low enough to just fuck some random stranger. Well, scratch that, you sort of did that already because that’s how you wound up pregnant in the first place. Thanks Vault-Tec. Maybe it wouldn’t be so wrong, or seem so desperate of you after all. He chuckled at your look of shock at his reply, making you blush in embarrassment that you were nearly frozen, unsure of what to do or what to think when you normally always had something to sass him back with. “C’mon now, surely ya didn’t think this wouldn’t end up happenin’ did you? We been layin’ it on thick with each other f’ too damn long now to play that game” he said with such confidence, it almost pissed you off but you couldn’t be mad, not when the pregnancy hormones made you so incredibly horny for this man that you could hardly think of anything else. Your mind was swimming at all the ideas of what he could be capable of, what he had the potential to do. You were left truly wondering just how different, and possibly how much better of an experience it would be with him rather than the last time you’d had sex. You wondered if it would really be any different than what you and your fellow vault dwellers were accustomed to or if maybe he was talking up a big game to get you interested. Regardless of whether it was talk or not, it had the effect on you he was hoping it would, because now you were past the point of pretending you didn’t want to find out, you needed to know. You felt as your core began to ache, excitement beginning to collect in the pit of your stomach as your panties grew damp at all your dirty thoughts. “Honestly I…I-I didn’t know it passed your mind like it has been on mine” you admitted with a deeper blush, making him chuckle as he moved closer. “So ya do think of me? Well ain’t that cute” he replied. “Hard not to think about you like that when I’m watchin’ them nice big hips sway whenever you walk in front a me” he added, making you chuckle as your cheeks burned about as hot as the campfire. “I haven’t uhh…I haven’t *done anything* since I got pregnant so, I’m not really sure how to go about it but, if you’d be willing, I’d like to find out just how different it is to be with you” you said so sweetly, almost innocently and damn it if it didn’t make him feel some type of way. He chuckled to himself a little. “Looks like you’re in luck then. Even luckier that it’s with someone who’s got a little more experience in this field than the average hit ‘n quit” he said, and that’s what stopped you for a moment. Was that all that this was going to be for him? A one night thing to settle some curiosity, then go right back to the way things were? After all this time spent traveling together and getting close to him, you didn’t want that to be the case. It was in that moment you’d realized just how much you genuinely cared for the ghoul who was in your company.

“On one condition” you said, making him raise a non existent brow at you, curious to hear what you had to say. “It’s more than just a one time thing. I don’t…I don’t do flings. Call me a “deluded little vaultie” for it or whatever else you want, but I only want this if you want it to go somewhere, even if it ain’t anything more than a fuck buddy situation” you said, and truth be told he wasn’t completely sure on what he wanted. He knew it had been a long time since last he had a chance to do something like this with someone, and that he liked you but he also knew the thing going on between you had been going on for long enough, why not see where it goes? “Trust me sugar, if you’re still here travelin’ with me, ain’t none of it gonna be without somethin’ behind it. Had you asked me when we first met? I’d have told ya different, but against all better judgement ya managed to get me attached to ya. This is me tellin’ you to pay your consequence for bein’ such a damn tease all the time” he responded with a grin that relieved your every nerve, his hand coming to grab yours and moving it to the tent in his pants to prove his point, making you grin and chuckle. “Didn’t know I get you that worked up” you replied teasingly as you moved closer. “Imma let you in on a simple rule I like to live by, little lady; you cause it, you fix it” he said, and you grinned as you grabbed his hand, pulling it to slide beneath your shorts to rest outside your panties that were getting wetter and wetter with your excitement. “Looks like you got some responsibility to take too then, cowpoke” you said with a grin, and that’s when he knew this would lead to something good.

You smiled into your shared kiss, shocked to find the slightly chapped, thin irradiated lips to feel so nice against your own. It wasn’t sweet like the kisses you’d had before, it was carnal, passionate even. Driven by pure lust and god did it make you melt. Your hands came to rest on the back of his neck as you straddled his lap. Your knees were dug into the sand beneath his sleeping bag without a care in the world as his hands groped your ass and sensitive tits. You moaned as his lips and teeth soon worked at your weak spot on your neck, making you roll your hips against him as your eyes fluttered shut. You held onto him as you rocked your hips back and forth, earning a groan from the ghoul below you. “Fuck, Cooper…please” you whined, making him pull away from your neck to click his tongue at you. “You can beg all you want, but I ain’t skippin’ over the good parts just ‘cause you’re gettin’ antsy” he said with a grin up at you before popping open the buttons of your beat up flannel shirt and latching onto one of your breasts, sucking on the sensitive bud. You normally were self conscious of the fact that you’d foregone wearing a bra in favor of comfort, but in this moment you couldn’t be more thankful that it was one less article of clothing to worry about taking off. You moaned as his fingers toyed with the other side, pinching harshly as his teeth would occasionally nip at your perked bud or the soft skin around it, but being sure to give your tits equal love and attention. Rather shocked that you hadn’t yelped or drawn back at his rougher display to your overly sensitive nipples, he continued. “Fuck…” you whined, feeling as one of his hands dragged down to the waistband of your underwear, before working his hand beneath it to your clit. His fingers worked tight circles along your aching bud, leaving your head devoid of all thoughts as he brought you the pleasure your body had been craving for ages. You hated the way you felt so close to your impending release already, having been pent up since even before leaving the vaults, and now that you were pregnant, you were even more sensitive to it all. “Oh god, Cooper…” you panted out, your strained, pleading voice like music to his ruined ears as you moaned his name. “Doin’ good for me sweetheart” he praised, only adding fuel to the fire that was ready to consume you at any moment.

You moaned blissfully at the pleasurably painful stretch of him working his way inside of you finally. God how you ached for that feeling, to be stretched and filled in ways nothing else could give you other than him. “Damn you’re a tight little thing” he commented, already moving and setting a pace without giving you time to adjust. It was bliss, the painful draw out but the pleasurable thrust back in. You just couldn’t get enough. “Normally this is where I’d throw you around and fuck you absolutely stupid, but last thing I want is t’ hurt that baby” he said, making you wish you could know what it felt like to be used by him, to be thrown around and taken by him but you knew you couldn’t, not yet. “Maybe I’ll just give ‘em a sibling instead, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” he asked in your ear in a low rasp as the sound of skin slapping skin started to fill the air. A pleasant, tingling shudder ran down your spine at the prospect of it, clearly he hadn’t forgotten that first kink you’d told him about. He gave a grin, feeling the way your walls fluttered around his dick from his words, and seeing the effect it had on you left him nearly feral. Guess you weren’t lying when you said one of those kinks of yours was the reason you were pregnant. “Yeah? You’d like that wouldn’t you, sweet thing?” He asked, knowing the answer but he loved the way he had you absolutely cock drunk on him too much to not try and hear from you. “Yes! Fuck, I’d love that, please!” you said through your moans, making him chuckle. “I betchu would” he said all smug and proud. “Bet you get off on the idea ‘f fuckin’ someone who could rip you t’ shreds, dontchya sugar? Ya like it dangerous” he said, making you shake your head yes in reply. “Yes! Fuck- Cooper!” You moaned into the midnight air, your back arched from the ground as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing your high. “Look good like this, sprawled out below me all helpless and vulnerable. I could just eat you alive” he said with a sadistic grin, his lips just below your ear, his breath ghosting your neck as he rocked his hips into you. “Bet you’d taste so fuckin’ good” he added, groaning through gritted teeth as he watched your engorged tits bounce with each harsh thrust, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your soft, smooth skin. “Why don’t you- fuck! Have a taste and find out?” You replied, making him look up at you with a wild look in his eyes. It was untamed, feral even and by god if they weren’t the most magical words he’d ever heard. “Shit, don’t play with me” he said, looking at your neck and shoulder, practically drooling over the idea of how you would taste. “I ain’t playin’, bite me” you insisted, and with that, he surely wasn’t going to pass down such a beautiful opportunity.

His blunt teeth sunk into the flesh of your shoulder, making you hiss as a white, hot pain coursed through the muscle before simmering into something more pleasurable. “Shit! Cooper- fuck me, that feels good” You moaned as he almost seemed to use his teeth to attach himself to you as he rutted into you with reckless abandon, leaving you writhing beneath him in pleasure. His eyes rolled back as a moan left him from the taste of your blood flooding his tongue, you were even more delicious than he originally anticipated. Crimson coated his lips and teeth, a small stream even leaking from the corner of his mouth and down the column of his neck as he detached himself from you. He’d gotten his taste, given you an experience you certainly wouldn’t forget, but the sight below him was certainly one he would forever commit to memory. The imprint of his teeth marks that marred your otherwise perfect skin, deep purple beginning to blossom around it as blood faintly trickled down your chest from the fresh wound. If you weren’t delicious before, you were absolutely delectable now. He ran his tongue along the trail of blood, the hot, wet muscle leaving a trail of saliva in its wake as he traveled back up to the source before laving his tongue across the punctures in your skin that he left. “Freaky little thing” he said, grinning at the way you had enjoyed feeling him sink his teeth into you and allowing him to taste you in such a manner. “Told ya” you quipped before being cut off by your own moan as he found that sweet spot deep inside of you, brushing past it with almost perfect precision. “Right there! Fuck, just like that. So close…” you whined, making him chuckle. “Go ‘head sweetheart, let go for me” he permitted, and with that, the coil in your core snapped, sending you toppling over the edge into an orgasm so earth shattering you swore you were no longer on this earth in that moment. Cooper was quick to withdraw from you, wanting nothing more than to feel the sweet way your gummy walls would hug him as he came inside of you, but he couldn’t bare the thought of putting that precious baby of yours at any more risk. For now he would have to settle on finishing on you rather than in you, but the sight of you covered in his cum was surely another marvelous one to behold in his eyes. From the way your eyes sat lazily half lidded, to the way his seed looked upon your chest and stomach, he had to admit, it certainly wasn’t a sight to complain about.

You both took a moment to bask in the afterglow of your orgasms, coming down from cloud nine to do your best at steadying your breathing. The gentleman he was, he helped in cleaning you up, offering you some Rad Away to take when you were finally able to pick yourself up from his sleeping bag. “Sate your curiosity?” He asked with a grin as he slipped his pants back on and his duster, lighting up a cigarette to enjoy as he sat next to you. You gave a laugh as you redressed. “Sated my curiosity for tonight, but never know what these hormones have in store for me tomorrow” you replied, making him laugh dryly. “Suppose I can’t argue with that logic” he said, making you giggle as you took the Rad Away and got ready to sleep, thankful for the warmth his body provided in the frigid temperature of the desert night air. You weren’t sure what tomorrow would bring for you two, but at least you knew it was something you both could grow to explore. Maybe that slice of heaven wasn’t such a distant memory after all.

[dira333]

Not needed - Itoshi Rin x Soulmate! Reader

Requested by the lovely anon who sent in many amazing Requests (You know how you are) - tagging @shoulmate because she's been begging me to write something for Rin

“Oh, is that your soulmark?” Bachira leans in, far too close for comfort. 

Rin pulls his shirt down and takes a step back. “Why do you care?”

“Well, duh?!” Bachira tries to pull the fabric back up, but Rin’s hand’s close around his like a vice. “It’s none of your business.”

“Whatever?” Bachira grins and steps back as far as he can, pulling his hands back as soon as Rin’s grip loosens. “I’m sure I will catch it some other day.”

Rin scowls but Bachira just laughs. Looks like a normal Tuesday after all.

-

Isagi hasn’t found his soulmate yet. Bachira’s pretty sure his is the cute girl from his neighbourhood. Reo keeps talking about his even though everyone’s tired of it already - his parents found her right after he was born and made sure she got the best education possible, after all, she was going to be his wife one day.

No one seems to care that Rin’s going to kill them any second if they don’t stop bringing up this topic. Who cares about Soulmates? They’re here to play soccer!

“I don’t need one!” He snaps at Chigiri when the guy has the audacity to point out something about his soulmark. “If I ever happen to meet them, I’ll make sure to let her know.”

-

“Oh no-” Rin hears just seconds before he gets drenched in something ice cold and sticky. Isagi’s sitting across from him, hands pressed against his mouth to keep the laughter in. Bachira has less control over it, his laugh bellowing out and pulling all the attention. Great. Just what he needed on this short break from training.

He turns, ready to rip the head of whoever is responsible - but the words die in his mouth.

You look like you’re ready to cry, wringing a single napkin in your shaking fingers. “I-I- I’m so sorry, I just wanted some… That was my last-”

Somewhere in between your stuttering, he catches on that you’d had a horrible day and this should have been the thing to make it even, a little treat for all the suffering. But said treat is sticking to his skin, turning his previously white shirt an ugly shade of brown.

“Come on,” he barks, moving to pull you away from the guys but stopping at the last second. He can’t just drag a girl around, especially one he doesn’t know. His parents raised him better than that. “Follow me.” 

Somewhere on the short trek to the front, you must have mistaken his grimace for an inviting smile, because you haven’t stopped talking, telling him everything he could have wanted to know about the week you’ve had. 

“Order,” he barks out, softening his tone when your eyes turn wide. “Please.”

Your order is impressively long. He’s only ever ordered black coffee. No wonder his shirt feels this sticky. When it’s time to pay, you turn and blink up at him.

“I spent my last money on that drink,” you point out, nibbling on your lower lip - it’s a little distracting. 

“Fine,” he huffs and pays. 

It’s only when he’s back at his table that he realizes that this went totally wrong. Weren’t you supposed to pay for his drink? As an apology for drenching him in coffee? But he can’t very well get up again, not when Bachira’s pointing out how cute you were and Isagi’s snickering every few minutes. If he’d be here with less perceptive people, he’d dare to turn his head just a little, to look over to the corner of the café where he knows you went. But he isn’t and so he doesn’t.

-

“Oh God!” The words are muttered, but Rin still hears them, curses his good hearing when the words are followed by a shrill squeak only seconds before you tumble down the stairs - and right into his arms.

If he were anyone else, he’d probably admire you - unable to walk down a flight of stairs yet sticking the landing perfectly, arms flung around his shoulders like you’re from one of the movies his mom loves to watch.

“Hi!” You squeak when he lets you down right away, hands burning from where he’d held you. At least no one saw. 

-

Rin doesn’t know how it happened or what’s more surprising about it, but he finds himself in a friendship group that contains not only him but you too. He might have gotten it wrong in his head, but he’s pretty sure you knew Chigiri from before Blue Lock. Or was it Kunigami? He’s never too sure with these two.

Maybe he’s being too poetic about it, has been too influenced by his mother's taste in movies, but you remind him of the sun, warm light flooding every room you step into. He dares to tell you once, embarrassment clamping his mouth shut when your response is a shy smile and wide eyes. Never, never will he tell you that he feels like the moon in your orbit - yes, he knows the moon orbits the earth, it’s a metaphor! - only able to light up the night because he’s been in your presence.

You’re too clumsy for your own good, too good-hearted for being friends with rascals like these. You never catch it when Bachira nudges you into helping him out, don’t realize when Nagi uses you as a headrest or a means to get from one place to the other. More than once Rin has to step in, teeth bared when Chigiri grins and asks “Are you her bodyguard or what?”

-

“Do you have a soulmate?” Isagi asks one day after training when all of them are draped across the tables in the little café down the street, their muscles resembling cooked noodles more than anything.

“Of course!” You smile and wave your straw around, almost taking out Kunigami’s left eye in the process. “Why are you asking? You already saw!”

Rin tenses. He can feel it before it happens, how his spine stiffens and his back turns ram-rod-straight. He forgot. He forgot that those still existed. Isagi throws him a smile that could mean everything and nothing at all. Rin pushes himself up from the table, grumbling something under his breath that could mean “I have to use the toilet,” as well as “I’m going to run the world.” 

He’s en route to the barista when he realizes that he’s left his wallet back at the table. He does the only reasonable thing and walks out of the café.

The cool air lifts some of the tension and the fact that he’s out of sight of his friends - if he can call them that - helps as well. Here, where he can feel like he’s almost alone, he can think.

Not that he wants to think.

Thinking just leads to realizations. Like the fact that you’re not his. That he’d want you to be his. That the stepping stones turned into something he could almost call friends. 

“Rin?” Your voice pulls him out of the moment. You pull the door close behind you, shiver in the cool air. “You forgot your wallet.” 

“Thank you.”

You smile. “It isn’t like you to forget something. Am I finally influencing you?”

“Like you could,” he huffs, but your smile only widens.

“Bachira told me that you’re probably upset because you’re the only one who hasn’t seen my Soulmark yet.”

“I’m not-” He starts but stops when you roll up your sleeve. His mouth’s dry and the words die on his tongue.

There, in the crook of your elbow, is the same mark that sits right above his hip bone. 

Rin can’t help but think of his own words, his own vows. 

He doesn’t need a soulmate. Just like friends, they’re nothing but a hassle, a weight holding him down. Or so he thought.

You blink up at him and he wonders if you know what’s going on inside of his head. 

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” He hears himself ask, his hand reaching out for yours. Your skin is warm under his touch. You take his hand like you’ve never done anything else.

“Are you paying?” You ask, smile doing that little quirk he’s grown to look for.

“What?” He asks back. “Are you offering?”

You giggle, shaking your head. He knows you too well. 

When you pull him forward, he doesn’t hesitate. 

He might not need you, but he sure as hell wants you by his side.