#he tends to hate himself :3

[dragonroar64]

im finally back with another pvpciv headcanon. I live my brain is finally having more thoughts than just a single sentence. good luck there's more angst ahead

okay so! in the most recent episode, y'know how Evbo goes and gets the other diamond swords to pay for things? that seems perfectly normal, right? wrong. Evbo can respawn. he could've just passed his sword off to whoever had the least amount of durability left and then came back down to buy things himself. but he didn't. he asked others for help(side note:I love the silly little found family going on here it brings me joy. look at them!!!).

my personal theory for why he'd ask the other diamond swords to buy these things for him is because he doesn't want to have to respawn ever again, or more accurately: he doesn't want to die ever again. I imagine if you'd died dozens if not hundreds of times you'd never want to do so again. not even on your own terms, not even when you're going to come back to people who care about you, not even if you wouldn't have to do it again any time soon. Evbo probably doesn't want to experience dying again, probably doesn't want to wake up in his room on the wooden sword level holding a weapon made of the weakest material around, much more vulnerable than he is anyways. do you think being there bothers him? do you think traveling down through the layers makes old memories and old pains flair up?

do you think that the other diamond swords know about this and try to help Evbo avoid going through it again? do you think that's why they help him pay for things without suggesting a respawn? do you think they're reluctant to send him out to the other civilizations? do you think they feel like he's a sort of annoying little brother to them, but still a brother and therefore someone they care about?

anyways I just think this found family thing going on w/the diamond swords should be explored more. like what if they saw how much he devolved on every trip to the golden sword level and just assumed his deterioration was caused just by the golden level itself and only learned later about what exactly happened on the iron sword level? they probably weren't watching all of his video journal updates. he probably didn't make one after every death. what if they didn't find out until just a little while before Evbo made it to the diamond swords level. or what if they didn't find out until after he made it back after Tabi killed him. what if he'd managed to stay strong up until he realized his closest friend didn't actually care about him and after the fact he just spilled his guts out about it to the diamond swords. what if they help him buy stuff because they don't want him to ever have to go through a respawn again

tldr what if the diamond swords help Evbo buy things in the newest episode because they know respawning is a horrible experience for him

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

god let me find the time to finish that kaisagi fic i started a few days ago because i think about it CONSTANTLY

[enslaughts]

thinking about tommy and joel mirrors. how they're both survivors to the bone, but while joel is gritted bite and blood and skin of his teeth scrabble to keep his loved ones breathing as long as he does, tommy is water and dandelions through cement and shape - shifting into whatever shape he needs to keep going. how tommy takes on joel's shape the moment he's gone, going gray and angry after watching his family die in front of him, an understanding like the first dawn after a storm. he gets gray and angry and bitter, something tommy never was. it was a core strain of he and joel's differences, this inability to let go of things like redemption and healing and hope in the face of an indifferent world. if joel lost that when sarah was killed in his arms, tommy loses his with joel, because he was right there. he was there. not maria, not ellie, joel wasn't even toughing it alone, at the beginning of the end. just tommy. useless, unconscious tommy, and joel's would - be killers, and his would - be daughter.

and finally tommy finds it, followed in his brother's footsteps. to honor him, in its own, terrible way. or just to grieve. he finally finds the one thing he can't heal from. and ellie turns those eyes on him and all he can see is sarah, dead, both of them, dead, and ellie too if he doesn't do this for her, for joel, for himself. if it were you or me, joel would be halfway to seattle already. ellie asks this of him when he still has it in him to say no, and almost a year later, he'll do the same to her. because he's alive. he's alive because of joel, even if he thinks it wasn't worth it, and so is ellie. they're in it together, until tommy isn't, can't, and it's the lowest point of his life ; to come to ellie with it. limping and half - blind, he'd rather do it himself, but he can't, and he's so ashamed. that after everything joel ever did for him, he can't do this for joel. after being one of the very last reasons joel did the things tommy resented him for, for him, to keep them both alive. after years of bearing that, and then setting it down. letting it go, in favor of worrying it's because tommy split that joel will finally reach the end of his luck. alone, from infected, a stray bullet, eating his own. but he finds a reason to keep going again and it's not tommy this time, it's this girl. and only then does he die, and tommy has to ask her to avenge him.

tommy doesn't know if joel would do that for him. a part of him imagines, even after waking to his broken, mortal body, that joel would always be able to do it himself. that if it were tommy dead and joel alive, he wouldn't get himself shot in the leg and then in the head, confined to the limits of his own body. that it wouldn't matter if he did ; he'd somehow drag himself to the ends of the earth for the people he cares about. but in his mind, tommy's his brother's keeper, try as he did to let it go, now more than ever that he's lost him. too little, too late. but he's old, and joel was a part of him. and he sees this life that ellie's built despite all of it, this little slice of heaven despite the hell she's been through, alive even though joel is dead, life going on, growing through the cement, what joel killed and died for ellie to have, and tommy doesn't have it anymore. the script has flipped, somehow, and tommy can't do anything about it with a body that's already reaped what this path he can't even walk to the end has sowed. in trying to avenge joel, he's destroying the very thing he died for : ellie's peace. because tommy has none. because it's his fault that he has to even ask her, that he can't do it himself, that joel is dead. and he can't live with it, he just can't, even if it means asking this of his daughter. because tommy can't die either. not after everything joel sacrificed to keep him alive. there's no way out for tommy, and right on cue, the exception, of course, is ellie. ellie, who already has the weight of the world on her shoulders. ellie, who tommy asks to bear the weight of his too, brother like brother, right on cue. one last ode to joel.

love is just so heavy. it didn't used to be.

[thebleedingeffect]

Finished the Reigen manga and immediately came up with a plot detail for my ageswap au ooohhhhhh I love having ideas

[leifyposting]

*appears as if summoned* did someone say fic recs?

first off, op: really really great points on diluc and the diluc&kaeya relationship. i'll do some rambling about diluc characterization in the tags but for now, here are four fics i think might fit what you're looking for!

this work, from @chidorinnnnn, is THE diluc&kaeya fic in my mind. like, no fic has ever topped this one as a study of their dynamic (and probably no fic ever will). the strange muted understanding. carefully finding your footing. the way things could have been and maybe should have been but aren't, and maybe that's okay too. bonus points for the parallel between their fathers, which you mentioned too

moving on to a more diluc-centric piece, from @dandelion-wings. it is so so hard to find good diluc fic because he is such a strange and contradictory character, but this diluc makes the most sense in my head. featuring genuinely gut-wrenching interactions between the boys (one line in particular tears me up every time) and a build-up to tragedy that rivals macbeth

bit of a different piece here: a modern au in which diluc and kaeya reconcile at the end of the world (tw major character death). i cry every time i read this one. their dynamic in this fic is similar to the first one but more messy - you know, finding your footing with the person who used to be your everything now that you are different people than you used to be, and also the world is ending

i read this more than a year ago and have not stopped thinking about it since. it's a longer read but so worth it. the worldbuilding is so intricate and every character and relationship in here is so beautifully fleshed out - not just diluc and kaeya but also the people of mondstadt and how they relate to one another. this author also has an amazing (and shorter) crepus&kaeya fic that i think you might enjoy

anyway! hope that was helpful. these are my four favourite diluc&kaeya fics ever so i hope you enjoy them! thank you for sharing your thoughts with us as well!

The Genshin Impact fandom is fascinating to me when it comes to fanfics, because I feel like I struggle to find any fics that really *get* the characterization of certain characters and I'm loathed to write my own because dammit I just want to read the specific itch I crave without resorting to creating it. Give me three more months and I'll cave in.

For example, Diluc is one of my favorites and I find his backstory fascinating in terms of his father Crepus possibly being more morally ambiguous than most fans are willing to admit and how little we know of Diluc's murder spree in Snezhnaya.

For example which Harbinger(s) did he have a run-in with? Will we find out more about the secret intelligence network that took him in, that he apparently had a high position in? Did he ever find the answers he was searching for? The list goes on.

It's hard for me to find the specific characterization of him I crave for in fics because I think his platonic relationship with Kaeya is incredibly nuanced and complex but I feel like his character often gets assassinated for Kaeya angst but like, the man had the worst birthday ever?

Imagine being Diluc, living through a literal worst nightmare. Your dad is dead after you failed to protect him yourself. Not only is your dad dead but he died after wielding a delusion--you dont even know what a delusion is but its clearly bad news. Why the fuck did your father have it and how?

On top of this, the Favonius Knights--the organization you proudly served and the very organization that your father heavily encouraged you to serve--insists on covering up the truth because it makes them look bad. The Favonius Knights, who are supposed to be honorable and uphold integrity, are anything but that.

Then your adoptive brother, who you've known for years and trust with your life, shows up and tells you he's been spying for a foreign nation since you were kids with the intent of harming Mondstadt and everything about your relationship is possibly all one big lie and well--how do you not snap??

Now, I'm also incredibly fond of Kaeya and he was just as traumatized by Crepus's death. He was wracked with guilt for *feeling* relieved that he didn't have to worry about betraying his birth father for his adoptive father since Crepus was dead. He anticipated Diluc's anger and felt like their duel was a punishment for his lies.

To me, it hints that Kaeya probably didn't reveal the truth expecting Diluc's understanding, but rather he knew how he would react and perhaps he wanted Diluc to strike him down in that duel. Or at the very least, he wanted to distance himself from Diluc and cut off ties in order to avoid emotional attachment stopping him from his mission.

I personally head-canon that Diluc withdrew upon seeing Kaeya's vision because well--why would the gods bless Kaeya with a vision if he truly had the intent to harm Mondstadt? So in spite of what Kaeya revealed, he isn't a threat. But there's still a lot of hurt there to navigate through.

I think it's fascinating seeing where they stand in present game because Kaeya obviously has the ideology of working the system from within. He stayed in the knights (even taking over his brother's position) and with Jean rooted out the Inspector and his cronies.

Meanwhile Diluc just isn't that type of person. He doesn't settle, he refuses to work in a system he views corrupt, he rather accomplish what he can outside of it. Curiously, he doesn't challenge the status quo beyond being vocal of his distaste of the Knights.

This is head-canon fantasyland, but I like to envision Kaeya and Diluc do use a lot of the same informants and collaborate on intel relating to the safety of Mondstadt (especially since Diluc can move in ways against the Fatui that the Knights can't due to political reasons) but they struggle to have the same connection as before.

For example, Diluc's story quest--Kaeya was essentially giving Diluc an alibi with the Knights. Even if Jean damn well knows who it is, they still have to have official documentation stating otherwise.

Kaeya is good at reading people, he has to be given how he was raised to be a child spy. But I like to think he struggles to read Diluc like before. Diluc is much more jaded, pessimistic, quieter than before. He prefers to work on his own as much as possible. From Kaeya's pov, the only person he's seen Diluc willing to fully trust enough to work alongside with is the Traveler, and he states as much.

The opposite is true of Diluc. Kaeya was his shadow, a quiet but inquisitive, witty observer. Cavalry Captain Kaeya is much more outgoing and friendly, his charm on full display. Did he ever really truly know Kaeya or did he only show Diluc what he wanted him to see? Is Kaeya happier this way?

Fanon often depicts Kaeya as essentially being barred from the dawn winery from the duel by Diluc himself, but I don't think that's quite the case. Much rather, given the reason he told Diluc that night, I think he views himself as undeserving due to unresolved guilt.

Canon seems to hint at all of this through his hangout and Hidden Strife, the latter of which is unfortunately a time-limited event that occurred before I even played (hoyo please stop having heavy lore drops occur in time limited events).

I think the two want to trust each other again, but both are afraid of destroying the tentative truce they have so they leave all of it unaddressed. Kaeya refuses to be completely truthful ever again and Diluc acknowledges the past but refuses to discuss it. The tragedy in their relationship that neither is at fault for what happened--it's a twisted emotional mess of grief and heartbreak.

The last point I'd like to touch on is the parallels between Kaeya and Diluc both being essentially child soldiers for their fathers' causes.

For Kaeya, being abandoned in Mondstadt to be a child spy is the most overt. For Diluc? Despite Crepus's strong ambition to be a Favonius Knight and to have a vision--neither happened for him. In Diluc's vision story, it states that he views his vision being a result of their "shared" ambition, hinting that his vision was granted after Diluc's strong resolve to achieve his father's dreams for him.

We know Crepus heavily encouraged Diluc down this path at very young age, given Diluc received his vision at age 10 and became the youngest Captain at age 14. In some ways, I'm sure Kaeya was a bit jealous of Diluc for having a loving father present in his life that was overtly proud of him.

I am not saying Crepus wasn't a good father, I think he cared immensely for Kaeya and Diluc both, but I do think he did some morally grey shit.

Diluc abandoning his vision is fascinating and it's almost never explored in fics. He is the only vision holder we know of (aside from the Inazumauns whose visions were taken by force) that had their ambition for their vision shaken in such a way that they voluntarily discarded their vision for a time and only took it back after reigniting a new ambition to have it (and as far we know the only allogene that faced no negative setbacks from using a delusion long-term without their vision present).

I don't know where to end all of this, except if you have ragbros fic recommendations that you believe cover it in a more nuanced way, let me know!

[luviestarz]

jungkook fic recs! 💘 part 3

★ starry night (m) | jjk - @kithtaehyung (all you wanted to do was take your boyfriend on a super late date.)

★ Millisecond - @kookiepleasee (Jungkook just can’t get enough of you, but is too afraid to make a move, so he just admires you from afar, every day.)

★ Home: risky birthday 🔞 - @bonny-kookoo (In which you really don't know how he talked you into this.)

★ just a little... | jjk drabble - @soft4gguk

★ "big tiddie anime bitches" | jjk - @h0neypjm (Jungkook, bless his heart, has an obsession. An obsession with big titty anime girls and the idea of you dressed as them. His birthday is coming up, what better time to fulfil his weeb fantasies than on Jungkook's special day.)

★ WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES — JJK (m.) - @awrkive (there haven't been a lot of people who have come into your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect jeon jungkook to be one if it – not at all. but what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so. or; your first "i love you" comes out completely wrong.)

★ ( 전정국 ) . . . BURNING HOUR jeon jungkook - @jungqkook (there’s nothing better than spending an entire day at your boyfriend’s yatch, tanning and waiting for the sunset with a drink in your hand… too bad your boyfriend had other plans for you.)

★ fill with fire, exhale desire, m | jjk - @whatifyoulivelikethat (He smokes cigarettes. You hate it. You always have a lighter in your pocket. He is pissed off because it isn't for him, you say. So much is said, but the truth is in the silence.)

★ RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART ONE - @rklve (your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.)

★ Devoted to Trouble - @jeonsweetpea (In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world?)

★ whipped - JJK - @aquagustd (another day, another trend that you’re forced to participate in with your boyfriend. It was his idea but he somehow gets sidetracked, with his head between your thighs.)

★ campus affairs | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (you transferred to a new college during second semester and you didn’t expect much excitement out for. that’s until jungkook came along and what had struggled to be a friendship was becoming so much more.)

★ [10:29pm] | jeon jungkook - @kookssin (established!relationship, smut, mirror sex)

★ Fall Back in Love | jjk - @bukguhope (jungkook somehow grew a reputation of sleeping around on campus, leaving him lonely and inexperienced with relationships. so when you, his old childhood best friend moves onto campus, he discovers what a relationship can feel like as he finds himself falling in love with you)

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬: - @euphoricfilter (it’s not often your boyfriend calls you with a cryptic message to come over; especially when he’s meant to be at his parents’ place for the holidays.)

★ fast forward - JJK - @aquagustd (If every single person you knew was against you, it wouldn’t matter, doesn’t matter because Jungkook would be there for you. That’s why you don’t question his words when he repeats ‘I’ll be back’ one disconcerting morning, and you respond with ‘I know. I trust you.’ He’ll make you eat your words.)

★ paired & puppy-eyed | jjk - @yoon-kooks (When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.)

★ risqué ; timestamp #15 - @mercurygguk

★ LOVE ME | JJK - @wnderkoo (I guess I'm just a sucker for love.)

★ CRIMINAL ! ... halloween special - @voyter (your boyfriend ends up loving your costume idea for the two of you more than he initially lets on.)

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 - @pennyellee (You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?)

★ grumpy!jk - @awrkive (jungkook is usually a nice guy from the way he interacts with other people – but the only exception comes to you. and you can't figure out why.)

★ MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국 - @lovieku (when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.)

★ CRAZY | JJK (Part 1) - @girlygguk (you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.)

★ metro inhabitant!Jungkook x survivor!female reader - @runariya

★ Closer To You - JJK (18+) - @back2bluesidex (You know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect, and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you.)

★ next door - jjk - @sugaimhome (Jungkook is obsessed with you. All because of some badly designed architecture and house planning, he’d do anything for you, and when he sees you struggling to orgasm, he takes matters into his own hands... or camera.)

★ PRESSED IN THE STEAM - @97kuu (There is only so much he can handle visually of your wet, hot and exposed body in an a private onsen before his member starts craving more than simple touches and thrusts between your thighs.)

[hyunsuloves]

Hii!! Would you be willing to write some nam-gyu/player 124 x reader hcs? I just love roh jaewon sm <3

boyfriend nam-gyu in the games.

warnings … this is kinda buns… that’s it

lovely notes … i lowkey hate how his character acts but i love roh jae-won too ᥫ᭡!!

꩜ [ 630 words ]

boyfriend nam-gyu who didn’t tell you he was entering the games. he intended to disappear for a week, and then show up with some bullshit excuse and a large sum of money.

boyfriend nam-gyu who was pissed off beyond belief when he came to find out that you were in the games because of his debt. the salesman recruited you to ease your boyfriend's debt and unfortunately, you couldn’t resist.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wouldn’t allow you to leave his side. it irks thanos a little bit, but he doesn’t really say anything because you and nam-gyu are together.

boyfriend nam-gyu gyu who only votes to leave because of your presence. no amount of money could aid him if you were to die here, and all because of him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who gets into countless arguments over you. he’ll argue over the dumbest shit, like someone bumping into you and not apologizing. he feels the constant need to defend you but he tends to take it a bit far.

boyfriend nam-gyu who constantly has a hand on you. it may be on your waist, his fingers interlocked with yours, or his hands in your hair.

boyfriend nam-gyu who insists on a “good luck kiss” before each game. you both are well aware that he just wants an excuse to kiss you, but who’s going to complain about it?

boyfriend nam-gyu who would lose his mind if thanos were to say something about you. if something he said was the slightest bit of suggestive, he might actually fight him about it.

boyfriend nam-gyu who loathes seeing any other player talking to you. even if it’s simplistic small talk to pass the time, he feels a surge of jealousy seeing other people interact so casually with you.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has you alongside him during every game. you don’t really have a choice because he has a vice grip on your hand. you couldn’t go anywhere even if you wanted to.

boyfriend nam-gyu who encourages you to stay away from thanos. he knows he’s a terrible person and despite hanging out with him, he doesn’t want you anywhere near a person as heinous as him. he definitely doesn’t want you taking whatever drugs thanos has on him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who always offers you a portion of his food. he’s a little greedy and secretly wants to keep it all to himself, but he puts your well-being before him, so he always offers you a piece.

boyfriend nam-gyu who sleeps in the bed directly next to yours. the beds are so tiny and can barely fit two people, so he finds peace in sleeping in the bed adjacent to yours.

boyfriend nam-gyu who only allows himself to be vulnerable with you during lights out. he doesn’t want any other players to view your affection as a weakness and use it against either one of you. so, the only time you see the true doting state of your boyfriend is when no one else can see.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wants nothing more than to be affectionate around you, but he knows he can’t for the sake of both of your safety. if he wants the two of you to make it out alive, he’s well aware that he has to put on an uncaring facade in the face of everyone else.

boyfriend nam-gyu who would kill someone for you. it’s a terrifying concept, yet not an unusual one amid the deaths all around. it’s slightly unnerving how quick he’d end other players life in your defense.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has plans to take you out somewhere after you get out of here. he’s the reason you’re here in the first place, and the least he can do is try to make it up to you.

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento Masterlist, Part One

REQUESTS CLOSED!

Updated: 12th October 2024 -> ANY SUBSEQUENT UPDATES ON NANAMI KENTO MASTERLIST, PART TWO

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🔥 Smut 💔 Angst 💕 Romance

☕ Comfort/Fluff 🤡 Clowning

🐙 Monsterfucking 📚 Education (*dirty laugh*)

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1st of December 🔥☕💕 -- No-Nut November is over-- but Nanami Kento won't let you get away with it that easily.

7:3 🤡 -- Nanami Kento never thought about his 7:3 pattern...a fourth wall breaking moment.

BabywearingDad!Nanami" Ask and Drabble ☕

Bedlocked 💕🔥☕-- University!AU; will you and Kento be pushed to breaking point, when forced to share a room and a bed on a city thesis trip?

Behind the Wall 💕🔥💔-- who was this stressed, suited man visiting your gloryhole...and how could you fall in love so easily?

Childbearing Hips 💕☕🔥-- once Gojo points them out, Kento can't stop looking... And Part Two!

Conbini ☕💕-- Itadori Yuuji didn't like Kento, at first. A Papamin drabble. Kento x Reader.

"Dad Reflexes" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕☕-- Nanami Kento can catch anything.

Daylight Robbery 💕☕🔥-- when Gojo asks Nanami to cuckold him and his fiancée, things don't go the way Gojo planned...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma sex-pollen threesome.

Deeper, Harder, Faster 🔥-- a Nanami x Reader x Ino threesome, where Nanami teaches Ino how to make love to his girlfriend. Based on a @nanaslutt post.

Deliverance 💕🔥-- with Vampire!Priest!Nanami

Disappointed ☕💕💔-- a Papamin drabble. When Yuuji takes himself on a suicide mission, Kento rescues him and chastises him with the reader.

Ditch the Party 🔥💕-- Nanami Kento hates parties. But the drinks? The drinks make him bold.

Domain Expansion theory-- Pseudowho's vision of Nanami Kento's domain expansion.

Domestic Bliss series 💕☕--

#1 Rant #2 Indentured Servitude #3 Car Repairs #4 Laundry #5 Foodie #6 Spicy #7 Cravings

Drunk Pick-Up Services 💕☕-- Husband!Nanami picks up the drunk reader and takes her home.

Edging Nanami Kento 🔥💕-- The reader drives Nanami Kento to the edge and back again.

Every Time 🔥💕☕-- you and Kento forget something vital when you have sex-- every fucking time.

Father's Day ☕-- a Papamin drabble. Kento misses the point, when Yuuji asks to buy him lunch.

Fire and Iron 💕☕🔥-- AU!Nanami Kento is the town blacksmith, and the reader is forced to stay the night after tending to his wounds.

Full 🔥☕💕-- Nanami Kento treats his pregnant wife like the goddess she is.

Glory Glory 🔥☕💕-- "Help, I'm stuck!" on a mission with Kento, and he takes full advantage of the compromising position.

Good Boy 🔥💕-- after a bad day, you know exactly what Kento needs to help him relax...

Good Girl 💕🤡 -- a drabble

Grandpapamin ☕💕-- Nanami Kento as a grandfather, Headcanons.

Grey 🔥💔💕-- The reader lives a vigilante life; so does Nanami Kento, a changed man after the events of Shibuya. When she is sent to hunt him down, Nanami Kento has a proposition for her.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part One ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part Two ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Christmas ⛄🎄 Headcanons ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader Headcanons.

Hanahaki 💕☕💔-- being in love with you is killing Nanami Kento.

Hands 💕🔥-- smutty drabble, SloppyDrunk!Kento

Hide and Seek 🔥-- Game night gets spicy.

Homebodies 💕☕-- You and Kento really, really, really don't want to go out.

Hot 💕🌶️☕-- You interrupt Kento while he's cooking...and things go horribly wrong.

"How well can you drive?" 🔥 -- the reader takes matters into her own mouth so Kento can prove his driving skills.

Infiltration (MULTI-CHAPTER) 🔥☕💔💕

(COMPLETE!) --the reader and Nanami Kento must pretend to be married, infiltrating a Curse-user cult to take it down from the inside.

Chapter One: Introduction

Chapter Two: Pillow Talk

Chapter Three: Deadly Games

Chapter Four: The Rumbling Shrine

Chapter Five: Breaking Point

Chapter Six: Exposed

Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess

Chapter Eight: Unchained

In From the Cold ☕🔥💕-- The reader wanders in the snow, lost and injured after a mission gone wrong; will Nanami Kento save her?

Kento Comes Home Drunk 🔥💕-- and the reader handles his advances like a total champ.

And, its sequel... Reader Comes Home Drunk 🔥 💕-- where Kento manages the reader's advances like an absolute champ.

Kingsman!AU Nanami/Galahad 🔥💕☕

Kintsugi 💕💔☕-- you paint Kento's scars, until he shines with gold. Pre and post-Shibuya AU.

Knismolagnia 🔥💕-- Kento has a somewhat...erotic response to being tickled.

Last Moments 💔☕-- Nanami Kento remembers a childhood holiday.

Nanami Kento, and the Curses of an Unusual Nature (MULTI-CHAPTER) -- Nanami Kento is deemed the only Sorcerer sensible enough to handle some frankly weird Curses

- Chapter 1: Gone Shopping 🤡 -- locals are going missing at a large shopping centre; Nanami Kento is sent to investigate.

Nanami Kento's Massive Squeezable Man Tiddies 🔥☕-- the reader being casually obsessed with Kento's chest...repost link HERE!

Next of Kin 💕☕-- a Papamin drabble, feat. Higuruma Hiromi. Yuuji is arrested, and uses his one call on Kento.

Operation Babymaker (a new series!) 💕💔🔥☕ -- Nanami Kento takes trying for a baby very seriously indeed.

A Trip to the Tailors-- the reader reveals she's been off the pill for months, and Kento cannot contain himself.

Benchpress-- the reader interrupts Kento's workout, and is manhandled into submission.

Ditch the Party...again-- tipsy Kento is back, and deadlier than ever.

Wet Dreams-- Kento gives the reader a free-pass for when he's asleep...and he returns the favour.

Honeytrap/Maid Café-- you are sent to honeytrap a Curse-user on ovulation night...and Kento hunts you down to a Maid Café.

Grapple-- you ask Kento to teach you how to fight, and things get sexy.

Papamin's Big Day ☕-- Nanami Kento takes his baby for her first vaccinations, and finds it...emotional.

Push ☕💕-- two become three, as the reader gives birth in Nanami Kento's arms.

Raising You ☕💔💕-- When the reader is de-aged by a Curse, Nanami is forced to raise her like a daughter.

Red 🔥💔-- Nanami Kento, the infamous Curse-user, has been on the run for years...what will you do when he catches up to you?

Resolute ☕💔💕-- The reader helps Nanami to accept that he has a drinking problem.

Roleplay 💕🤡-- You pretend to be another woman, and Nanami Kento gives you the roleplay of your dreams.

Seasons of Grief 🔥💔💕☕ -- The reader supports Nanami Kento through the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death, and afterwards, when Kento nearly loses the reader

Sexual Orientation 🔥💕☕-- it's not what you think. And, its little follow-up... Mine 🔥💕-- where the Reader loses her cool, just one time.

Shaving Lesson ☕💕🔥-- dad's teach their sons how to shave... and Yuuji doesn't have one. A Papamin drabble.

Shirtsleeves 🔥 -- The reader steals Kento's last shirt, and receives her comeuppance.

Skrunkly 💕☕🔥-- Kento loves you even when you look like a dirty raccoon.

Smut [smuht] (noun) 💕🔥-- Kento catches you reading smut...and pretends to be the bad guy from your story, seducing you.

Still Got It ☕💕-- The Nanami kids' parents are boring...right?

Stoic 💕🔥-- Kento is furious when Gojo assumes that his lack of PDA towards the reader shows a lack of desire.

The Accumulation of Little Despairs ☕💔💕 -- The reader struggles with low-mood; Nanami Kento comes to the rescue

The Chase 🔥💕-- The reader has insisted on No-Nut November; Nanami Kento gets his revenge by hunting her down and taking his reward.

The Silent Stars Go By 🔥💕☕-- Shibuya Ending Rewrite! Nanami Kento feels his death approaching...but he beats fate, when he tracks you down to confess his love for you.

The Voice P1 and P2 (two parts) 💕☕🔥-- VoiceActor!AU. A chance meeting in the dark with Nanami, sends him on a desperate search for the woman of his dreams.

Work Wife 💕☕-- someone wants to be Nanami Kento's work wife, and he's not happy about it.

The Wristwatch 💕☕-- How does Nanami Kento make sure everyone (including you) knows you're his girl?

The Wrong Tie 🔥-- Nanami x Reader AND Higuruma x Reader...Nanami and Higuruma make a mistake after fucking their wives in the same cupboard.

Why I love Nanami Kento

Yet Another Sex Pollen Fic, PART ONE 🔥💕

And...PART TWO 🔥💕 -- the reader has a problem... and only Nanami Kento can help her scratch the itch.

[pedropascallme]

Teach Me Something

Pairing: König x f!Reader

Summary: “But the thermal wear was tight, hugging your body and intensifying your silhouette. Maybe it could be considered sexy; maybe part of you hoped that König would think so.”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) p in v sex, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), face fucking, forced proximity, size kink, mentions of overstimulation, use of honorifics (“Colonel”) in a sexual scenario, dom/sub dynamics, dom!König but he's pathetically needy, rough sex, dirty talk (a lot of it is in German), creampie, implication of cumplay, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: One bed trope CAUSE I CAN. Also I don't speak German, so if you do speak German and this sounds like absolute gibberish to you, I'm sorry in advance <3

What had seemed like a promising respite from such a drawn-out mission had swiftly proven to be less than liberating and more of a tease.

On the outside, the safehouse looked like a cabin out of a Christmas movie—something cheesy and re-watchable that you might put on around the holidays as background noise. Sturdy, light wood, powdered with snow.

It didn't look out of place in the forested locale, and anybody passing through would likely think it was a fixture of the area; a quaint vacation home to a little nuclear family.

But on the inside, it was absolutely barebones, and that was putting it lightly.

A raw sort of cold crept in through cracks, and the breeze inched over the thick layers of dust on every surface. It looked like you and König would be the first people to use it in months, if not years.

The chill was uncomfortable, and while the fireplace would've been a delightful way to quell the chatter of your teeth, you knew you couldn't use it—smoke from the chimney could alert anybody of your whereabouts, and the last thing you wanted right now was more practice in self-defense.

There was a small armchair pushed into one corner, and the green velvet faded on the back to reveal frayed weaving. One single bed was pushed to the far side of the tiny room, seemingly frozen in time, and you wondered if the blankets would even peel back from the mattress.

The only source of light was a standing lamp, and when you yanked the cord, it flickered piteously.

Instructions had been clear, and you knew you'd only be here for a night before you had to keep moving, but you couldn't help but huff at the state of the cabin when you had spent all day on the move.

König walked in behind you with a huff; he hated snow, and he abhorred waiting in a safehouse like a sitting duck all the more.

“Mein Gott…” He shook his head, shivering dramatically.

“It’s just a little snow, Colonel.”

You could’ve laughed at the display. You knew he was overreacting; he tended to, and a man of his size couldn’t get cold very easily.

“We will freeze before evacuation, maus.” He grumbled, closing the door with a grunt.

“You’ll live.” You cooed, smiling.

You wouldn't go as far as calling him your friend, but König was certainly a welcome presence despite his intimidating demeanor. He was clever, and an effective soldier; a generally amiable person when he was in the right mood.

And it helped that he was nice to look at.

You appreciated that he actually spoke during operations. Some people—especially superior officers, you'd found—preferred to stay stoic and silent, even at the best of times. But König was chatty, in his own right.

It was clear that he liked the sound of his own voice, but you didn't mind; he could be funny, a refreshing source of entertainment on and off the field. His thick accent and less than stellar pronunciations often led to even more amusement in conversations with him.

He never spoke about himself—you didn't even think König was his real name; you knew it probably wasn’t. But it was the name he responded to, and it was the one you mumbled when thoughts of him forced their way to the front of your mind as you pressed down just right on your clit.

You made your way to the derelict bed, unhooking your chest rig and tossing it onto the mattress. You half expected the frame to collapse, but it was a pleasant surprise when all you got was a quiet squeak from the bedsprings.

“What are you doing?” König watched intently as you lay your belongings out.

“Putting my stuff down.” You looked at him over your shoulder, quirking a brow.

“On the bed.” He was just voicing what he saw, but you knew he had ulterior motives.

“Didn’t see your name on it,” you turned to face him properly, eying him where he leaned against the door. “Take the chair.” You nodded at the armchair in the opposite corner of the room.

König scoffed softly.

“You are joking?”

“Or you could take the floor,” you couldn’t help but smile; you enjoyed riling him up. “Plenty of room for you to stretch out.”

He shook his head, and you watched his eyes narrow behind the mask.

“No. You are smaller than me. You sleep in the chair; I have the bed.” He said it with a sense of finality, reminding you that he was, in fact, in charge.

“That’s not fair.” You argued, crossing your arms.

“You wanted me to sleep on the floor,” he pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to you, “I am being kind.”

“You’re not,” you scowled, “Not at all gentlemanly, either.”

He chuckled, tilting his head to the side.

“If you will make such a fuss, we will sleep in the bed together, Kleine.”

“Seriously?” You balked at his words, caught off guard.

“Is it a bad idea?” It was almost as if he was goading you; toeing the line to see if you’d agree or if you’d back down.

It wasn’t uncharacteristic of him; he enjoyed teasing you as much as you enjoyed teasing him. He liked to see how hard he could push you when you were deployed together. It brought him a sort of contentment to see you squirm.

It was innocent, as far as you were concerned, and he knew he had the power to do it.

“No…” you decided not to bow to his prodding. “I just—are we allowed to…I mean, I’m fine with it, if you’re fine with it.”

You practically scoffed, uncrossing your arms and gesturing vaguely.

“I just…yeah. No—yeah, that’s a—…let’s just share,” you nodded, trying to reason aloud as you made your decision. “Better for…body heat.”

He nodded, and you were certain he was smiling beneath his mask.

You grabbed your chest rig from the bed and tossed it onto the armchair. Slowly, you began peeling off your kit. The thermal under layer of your uniform was perfect for sleep, and you weren’t about to crawl into bed with the military-grade fabric still on.

But the thermal wear was tight, hugging your body and intensifying your silhouette. Maybe it could be considered sexy; maybe part of you hoped that König would think so.

You shoved your clothes onto the chair with your chest rig, turning back to face the bed.

König had already prepared himself for bed, and you were nearly startled when you looked up to see his mask gone.

It was a rarity; he wore it 90% of the time, probably more as an intimidation tactic, but you also assumed it was a comfort thing.

The more shocking revelation was that he’d stripped down completely, forgoing even the thermals, as he sat on the edge of the bed in just his boxers.

“Not gonna get cold?” You quirked a brow, not at all unsatisfied by the unobstructed view of his form, but still a bit taken aback.

“It is nice in here,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders before rubbing a hand over his chest. “And your body will be warm.”

His phrasing made you roll your eyes, but you smiled just a little.

“Alright, Colonel,” you shook your head, “Sure.”

You ambled over to the bed, pulling the blanket back and frowning when you realized how thin the material was. But you situated yourself beneath it all the same, lying on your side and eager to curl up and allow yourself to get some rest.

When König maneuvered himself beneath the blanket next to you, you threw a look over your shoulder at him.

“No funny shit,” you glared, though it was playful, “Hands to yourself, or I’ll cut them off.”

König laughed lightly, folding his arms over his chest.

“I will not touch you, Kleine.” He was amused by your threat, but humored you.

“Good answer.” You settled back onto your side.

You found yourself unable to relax.

The room hadn’t warmed up in the short time you’d been inside, and you couldn’t seem to garner the warmth to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. The thermal clothing wasn’t doing much, and the wind howling against the wood of the cabin put you on edge.  

If you were less proud, you might have pushed yourself up against König in search of warmth and comfort. Instead, you let yourself continue to shiver, huffing softly.

But your exasperated sigh turned into more of a stunned gasp when you felt König reach out for you, tugging you into him until your back pressed against his chest.

“Said hands to yourself.” You mumbled, though the relief was immediate. The warmth of his body permeated the thermal shirt you donned and sept into your skin.

“Sh,” he splayed his hand against your stomach. “Dir ist kalt.”

“I’m not cold. I’m…” You tried to think of a valid argument, “I’m not cold.”

He grunted, a wordless response of disbelief.

The room fell quiet again, and you stayed pressed against his body. Part of you was tempted to grab his hand, lace your fingers with his and lean into the situation. But you stayed still and just appreciated the position you’d been pulled into.

“You understand me often now,” König’s voice broke through the silence. “You did not know German like this before.”

“Hard not to pick up on bits and pieces,” you were whispering, but you weren’t sure why. “Most of what you say over comms is German.”

“You are learning, maus,” he seemed pleased, his thumb brushing over your stomach. “Tell me.”

“I know that maus means mouse,” your voice picked up a bit, eager to share the small amount of German you had learned. “Was war das means what was that. Schnell is quickly, ich weiß is I know.”

You paused, thinking for a moment before you continued.

“Verdammt is damn it, and geh zum Teufel means go to hell. I think.”

He let out a small laugh behind you, and you felt his chest move against your back.

“Gut.” Though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the motion of his head against the pillow as he nodded.

You found the confidence to turn over, adjusting yourself enough to face him while staying pressed to his chest.

“Will you teach me more?” You asked, sincerely curious about the other phrases you'd heard him use.

He smiled. “What do you want to know, maus?”

“Will you…” you smirked, thinking, “Will you teach me more curses?”

“Girl after my heart,” he chuckled, running his hand over your back in an oddly docile gesture. “Ja, I will show you.”

He thought for a moment, squinting into the dark of the room as he considered where to begin.

“Em…to call someone’s mother a whore: huresohn.”

“Starting strong.” You laughed, chancing a glance at him.

“There are no weak curses in German.” He smiled down at you. “Scheiße is shit.”

“I know that one.” You yawned, placing an open palm on his chest.

“Fine, then, you are so proud of your skill; Weißt du was Schlampe ist?” He quirked a brow at you, smug.

“You’re going too fast—” you complained, pushing against his chest. “Do I know what what is?”

“Keep up, Kleine.”

“Kleine means small.”

“No—” He furrowed his brow, “Ja, it does, but also ‘little one.’”

You paused, looking up at him again.

“Little one?” You asked, echoing his words.

“Ja.” He nodded, sighing softly.

“Colonel, when you say things like that, I’m almost convinced you have a soft spot for me.” You smiled, putting your other hand on his chest and playfully pushing against him a bit harder.

“Vielleicht,” he moved to place his free hand over one of yours as you pushed him. “Ja.”

There was a pause, both of you taking a moment to stew in the silence and the feeling of each other.

“König…” You were whispering again, staring at how his hand dwarfed your own.

He looked down at you expectantly.

“I have—…I want to know one more thing.” You shuffled up the bed slightly, trying to position yourself to match his eyeline.

“Ok,” he nodded, now moving his hand to toy with a loose strand of your hair. “What?”

“How do you say…”

You could feel yourself shiver, but it had nothing to do with the cold, which you had long forgotten. You worried about overstepping, about saying the wrong thing and making the situation awkward and uncomfortable.

“How do you ask someone to—to kiss you?” You asked anyway.

You saw a flash of something in his eyes.

He paused, tucking your hair behind your ear and letting his fingers trace down your jawline until he could hook a finger under your chin.

“Küss mich.” He scanned your features, watching for a response.

“Küss mich…” You stared back at him, your lips parted.

You felt dazed, but it wasn’t unwelcome; there was a heat in your lower stomach, and it grew with every twitch of his fingers against your skin and with every word he spoke.

“Braves Mädchen.” His words were muttered as he leaned into you, capturing your lips with his and kissing you.

You squeaked, clawing at his chest before slowly reaching around him to pull him closer by the nape of his neck. You could feel his pulse, the quick thrum of his heart pushing against his skin almost as intensely as your own.

The kiss was covetous. He wasted no time pushing his tongue into your mouth, eager to taste every part of you; and you were eager to let him. You cupped the back of his head, pulling him into you, and he perched his hands on your waist, manipulating your body slowly until you were on top of him.

The position was awkward, but you could hardly notice when you were so focused on him. His touch was so warm, and you felt yourself melting beneath his palms; your skin was on fire, but it was a happily received blaze.

The chill of the room that had crept into your bones was long gone, replaced by the heat of his grip on your body.

You trailed your hands over him, taking in the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips. He was so large, muscular in a comforting way, and you whimpered softly against his lips when he gave your hip a squeeze.

“So long,” König mumbled against your jaw, “Have waited so long.”

“For this?” You breathed, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the way his hands trailed over you.

“For you.” He growled, pressing kisses to your throat.

You giggled at the feeling, his lips tickling your pulse point, but he didn’t stop—if anything, it just spurred him on.

“Liebling,” he spoke against the sensitive skin of your neck, “Meine Kleine. Do you know how you tease?”

“I d—I don’t tease, Colonel.” You moaned when he sucked a bruise into your neck.

“You are doing it now,” he tsked, “Telling me no hands—if that is what you want, shall I stop, ja?”

“No...” You whined; the thought of him removing himself from you now was deeply upsetting.

König huffed a laugh against your throat, straightening back up to meet your gaze again.

“Always teasing,” he reiterated as he brought his hand to your face, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “In these silly clothes when I invite you to bed with me.”

“Off—” Your plea came out rushed and unfinished, “Take them off, then.”

He laughed louder now, pleased by your zeal.

“Greedy maus,” he ran his thumb over your cheek, “Move, then—I will help.”

You scrambled to push yourself off of him, sitting up and waiting to see what he’d do—whether you’d be faced with further instructions, or if he’d simply take the opportunity to strip you as you’d asked him to.

He sat up with you, studying you as you clamored to kneel next to him on the mattress.

“Come.” He beckoned you, and you shuffled forward until your face was mere inches from his.

He caressed your sides, and despite the gentle, chaste nature of the touch, you whimpered softly. König curled his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head slowly—almost teasingly, as he exposed your top half.

It wasn’t out of any urge to taunt you, he was just so thrilled to be able to see you bare yourself to him; to scan every inch of your flesh.

He tossed the shirt to the side, and you made a mental note to grab it later so you didn’t leave without it.

“Back,” he instructed, pressing on your shoulder to encourage you to lie down, and you obliged happily. “Raise your hips, Kleine.”

You pushed yourself off the mattress awkwardly, trying to give him the space he needed to strip you of the final bits of fabric.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your thermals, huffing impatiently when he realized that you had underwear on beneath the thermal layer. But he chuckled as he peeled both articles of clothing down your legs, and you let out a quiet gasp as the cool air of the room hit your core.

“So eager,” he tutted, tossing your bottoms in the same direction he’d thrown your top. “Just a touch. You are so easy to please.”

“Shut up…” You muttered, turning your head to the side to hide your satisfaction.

He grunted, bringing his hand to your face and squeezing your cheeks as he moved your head to look up at him again.

“Cruel girl—this is no way to talk to your Colonel.” The cold blue of his eyes somehow seemed to turn red hot; demanding and predatory.

“König—” you stuttered, “Colonel. Please.”

“What would you like, Kleine?” He kept his hand on your face, enjoying the way his palm swallowed you. “Be honest.”

“Fuck me,” you breathed, “Want you to fuck me.”

Upon hearing your words, he laughed, removing his hand from your face and trailing it over your exposed breasts.

“Fuck you? Already?” He kneaded the plush flesh of your chest. “We will be here all night, meine Liebe—I want to enjoy you.”

“Now you’re teasing.” You whined, arching your body into his touch.

“No,” he shook his head with a smirk, his eyes never leaving your chest as he groped you. “I will make you feel nice.”

With that, he leaned over you. His tongue followed a messy trail over your tits; circling your nipples before pressing his lips against the pillowy skin to suck deep marks into you. He treated it like a game—a meal, even, as he nipped at you, learning and memorizing what would make you squirm beneath him.

When he grazed his teeth over your nipple, you let out a sharp moan, reaching down to press his face further into your chest.

“No hands.” He mumbled into your skin, and you sighed dreamily.

“Think we’re past that…” You let your other hand wander over his shoulder blade.

“We are not,” he pushed himself off of you, forcing your hands away as he rose. He found enough balance to grab both your wrists, pressing them into the pillow on either side of your head. “You must listen when I say these things, Kleine.”

You whimpered, nodding an affirmative.

“Do you understand?” He looked down at you, “You will tell me. Speak.”

“Yes,” you nodded again, swallowing. “I understand, Colonel.”

He let go of your wrists, and his chest heaved; with lust or pride, you couldn’t tell, but it was likely a combination of both.

As he pushed himself down the bed, he couldn’t seem to separate himself from your body; pressing his face, his lips, into your skin; murmuring against you as if he wanted your bones to hear the filth that fell from his mouth.

“Such a pretty girl,” he mouthed just beneath your navel, “Finally behaved.” 

You bucked your hips, trying to encourage him to bring his mouth down to where you needed it most. But he bypassed your cunt completely, situating himself between your legs and biting at your thighs, only eyeing your core.

“Maus…” He sighed the petname, pressing kisses to your inner thigh before finally releasing his grasp on your leg. “So wet from kisses?”

He leaned forward, as if to drown his senses in you; your scent and your image, he wanted to appreciate it fully.

“Pathetic, a bit, mm?” He swiped a finger through your folds, collecting your slick, and you whimpered. “So desperate, to drip like this…”

“König,” you were whispering, afraid to warp the charged atmosphere. “You can do anything; just do something.”

He laughed at that, basking in the pleas you directed towards him as he removed his hand from your cunt and pressed a kiss to your clit.

“Schlampe.”

He buried his face against you, pushing his tongue into your entrance and lapping up the slick that dripped from your core.

You moaned, raising your hips off the mattress in an effort to find even more friction. König pressed down on your hips, effectively pinning you to the bed; holding you captive with his grasp and the movement of his mouth.

“Sweet engel,” he moaned against your cunt, “You taste like heaven, Kleine.”

“Fuck—” His actions were one thing, but his words hit you hard; it felt like forever since you’d been with someone who showed so much enthusiasm.

His gruff moans as he lapped you up only served to push you further towards the precipice of total pleasure, and you could feel yourself teetering over the edge already.

“You are so excited, Liebling,” König groaned bringing a hand up to press two thick fingers against your entrance. “Wetting my face this way, but still too tight for my hand.”

He began to nudge your hole, letting his fingers circle your entrance before sinking into you. He went as far as the first knuckle before stopping.

“Scheiße,” he cursed as he watched your cunt struggle around his fingers, “How will you take my cock, Kleine?”

You whimpered at the way his fingers stretched you; penetrating you shallowly, but enough to make you feel so full.

“You can—I’ll—I can take it,” you stammered, “Please, Colonel, make me take it.”

“Bitte…” König’s moan neared a whimper, pushing his fingers deeper into you. He bucked his hips against the mattress in response to your words and the filthy squelch of your cunt around his hand. “Whatever it is you want, maus, I will do for you.”

“More,” you begged softly, “Want more.”

He smirked, more to himself than to you, and continued his ministrations.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue over you as he fucked you with his fingers. Whenever he heard you let out a soft gasp, he increased his pace.

“Probably one more can fit,” he spoke against your pubic mound, his lips finding purchase on your body again and exploring more of you with his tongue as he threatened your entrance with another finger. “Ja, Kleine?”

“Yes—another one.” You were so hot, maybe even sweating as he worked you open, but the flush of your skin did nothing to discourage you from whimpering for his hand. 

He pushed a third finger into you, and the stretch made your body contort; your back arched and your legs tensed. The pads of his fingers danced over your most delicate spot as he thrust them in and out of you.

The pressure in your abdomen was immense, but damn, if it didn’t feel amazing.

And he was thrilled by you. Every sound you made and every clench of your walls around him made König feel lightheaded, grinding himself down against the bed just for a moment of relief; imagining the pure bliss that would be getting to bury himself inside of you.

He could feel his boxers growing damp, the tip of his cock crying for you, just as you cried out for him.

“Little thing, so tight,” he was moaning, his sounds almost as eager as your own as he lay his head on your thigh to watch his fingers work you open. “Verdammt, Schatz—bitte, bitte, cum on my hand like this.”

He dipped his head down to lick the slick that coated his fingers, gradually moving his tongue so that it dragged over his fingers and up to your clit. He sucked the bud between his lips, and you white-knuckled the pillow beneath your head with both hands, the pleasure overwhelming to the point that it was almost too much.

You came with a cry of his name, just as you always did; but this time he was there with you to hear it; this time he was the one manipulating you to feel the rush of ecstasy.

“Hübsche Hure…” König continued to push his fingers in and out of you, determined to push you to the brink and see just how much you could take as your legs trembled from the overstimulation. “So good for your Colonel. So good to let me prepare you.”

You keened under his praise, your eyelids heavy. When he removed his fingers from you, you regained your senses as the pleasure that had wound itself so tightly around your muscles began to dissipate, leaving you in a hazy state of fucked-out bliss and feeling empty.

You reached down to brush your knuckles over his cheek, and he closed his eyes when your hand made contact with him, still resting on your thigh.

“You will look so pretty wrapped around me, Liebling.” He murmured, turning his face and kissing your hand.

He’d seemed to have forgotten about his previous request that you keep your hands to yourself—that, or he was too drunk off of you to care, content with the domestic gesture of your fingers trailing over his skin.

“Show me,” you whispered, the dull ache his fingers had left in your core swelled at his words, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. “I want more.”

“Eine Schlampe tut es immer,” he muttered. He moved to lick up your thigh, savoring the slick that had gathered there to make your skin shiny and syrupy. “You will stay like that.”

You nodded, watching him perch himself on the edge of the bed before he stood.

You almost felt like you should avert your gaze; he fiddled with the waistband of his boxers, and you noticed the slick spot on the fabric that highlighted his need for you. It flooded you with a new wave of arousal—to want and to be wanted was such a tremendous thing.

But it was when he removed his boxers that you felt your breath hitch, eyes widening slightly in an almost comic way before you turned your head to stare up at the ceiling.

You had figured his mentions of readying you were just rooted in König being typically boastful. But the image of his cock, hard and weeping and big, as it sprung free from the confines of his boxers made you recognize that his preparatory measures were warranted.

Your mouth watered, but you maintained your gaze on the ceiling.

“Look,” König approached the edge of the bed, “Look at me, Kleine.”

You didn’t really need to be told twice, shifting onto your side to admire him; big might’ve been an understatement, and your lips parted as you lay still, just staring.

“Touch.” The harshness in his voice as he delivered the command was undercut by the tender way he reached for your hand and guided it to his cock.

You wrapped your fingers around the base, and König let out a short sound of approval. It made you feel powerful, to have a man like him by the cock, to be forcing such sweet noises up from his chest.

But mostly it just made you want even more.

“Bitte,” he bucked his hips leisurely into your hand, your dry palm creating the friction he’d been chasing, “Your mouth, engel. Taste.”

You hummed at his request, leaning forward to lick circles over the head of his cock. The sound that came from his throat was choked, stifled as best he could manage when you took the tip beyond your lips and hollowed your cheeks.

“Oh—Gott,” he tilted his head back, eyes closing as he relished the way you wrapped your lips around him. “Perfekter kleiner mund.”

You couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying, but you knew enough to know that he liked what you were doing, and it spurred you on.

You leaned further into him, trying your best to take more of him into your mouth and down your throat. A bit less than halfway down his shaft, you found yourself gagging; spluttering around him as you jerked the rest of his length in your hand. He grunted out a curse, bringing a hand to your hair and tugging gently at your roots.

“Very nice, maus,” he groaned when you glanced up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock, choking on him. “Take it deeper.”

You lifted yourself off of him, drooling.

“Too much…” You croaked out, “Too—too big. I can’t.”

It felt so conformist to say; expected, like an actress in a porno, faking it for the camera. And despite the fact that the words that left your mouth seemed almost cringeworthy, what you said was true: there was no way you'd be able to manage taking all of him.

But you loved a challenge.

“I was not asking,” he tsked, tightening his grip on your hair and earning a moan that traveled from your mouth in a breathy puff. “Put your mouth back. I will help.”

You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together as you lowered yourself back onto his cock and wrapped your lips around him. His authoritative nature on the field was always more attractive than it should’ve been, but this took the cake.

König fucked into your mouth like it was a toy, guiding you up and down over his cock, using your hair like a handle as he pulled you over his length.

You choked, spit and tears mingling on your face and dripping down his length, and he seemed to enjoy the sight as much as you enjoyed the feeling; his moans grew louder, the image of you helpless under his grasp getting him off in equal measure as the feeling of your mouth on his stiff cock.

He pulled you off abruptly, removing his grip from your hair and trailing his hand from behind your head to perch on your cheek. He wiped stray tears from your face with his thumb.

“I will cum if we keep playing this way, Kleine,” he panted, “And I would rather fill your cunt.”

You moaned wantonly at his words alone; he spoke so plainly, clear about his intentions, and you whimpered at the notion of having him spill inside of you.

“Fuck me, then,” you sighed, using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. You took on a playful cadence, “Don’t keep me waiting, König.”

“Not waiting,” he shook his head, grabbing you by the chin and forcing your eyes on him. “Preparing.”

“Show me what you were preparing me for, Colonel.” You smirked, watching his face contort in arousal and a smug sense of assuredness.

He didn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and hover over you, pressing a kiss to your chest just above your breasts before settling between your legs.

“You are impatient,” he muttered, “I only wanted to make you comfortable, Liebling.”

He held your hip in a vice grip, tugging you down the bed a bit to line himself up with you.

“No complaints when you are given what you have begged for.” He looked down at you, under obvious strain from his desire; his eyes had grown shadowy to the point of turning gray in the dim light of the room.

He ran his cockhead through your folds, grunting at the feeling of your slick mingling with the spit you had left coating his cock. He pushed his hips further, breaching your entrance with a groan.

Your hips moved on their own accord, rising to meet him, as you mewled.

“Ja, gut,” he moaned, “You need more—you need it all.” König kept his eyes glued on your cunt, watching his cock disappear into you.

He was growing impatient, sinking into you slowly had him gritting his teeth and breathing hard. You, too, felt restless at the pace; you could feel the stretch so viscerally, the pressure of his cock against your walls, the pain that faded into pleasure, and you craved more—you craved everything he had to give you. All of it.

“König,” you whined beneath him, squirming slightly, “Give it to me—I won’t break.”

“And if I want you to?” He queried, his voice low and wolfish.

You whimpered. It wasn’t often you felt vulnerable; guns strapped to your hip and a legion of other soldiers behind you. But now you felt exposed, prey waiting for the final act, and you relished in it.

“Do it.” You begged, waiting to see what he would do with the permission you gave him.

You didn’t have to wait long; König thrust his hips forward until they pressed against your own. He bottomed out with a whine, knocking the air from your lungs.

You cried out, full and stretched in such a foreign way. But you wrapped your legs around his hips as you writhed beneath him, locked in a battle with your pleasure.

“So tight,” he was panting, whimpering; six-foot-ten and easily 200 pounds heavier than you, and all it took for König to completely lose his edge was the feeling of your cunt wrapped so deliciously around him. “You—Scheiße, you are swollen with me.”

He traced a hand over your stomach, pressing against the bulge his cock produced, and you moaned at the sinful gesture.

He was just as overcome with lust, entranced by the image of your body squeezing around him, opening for him like a toy. He seemed so content to simply look and feel for a moment, but you grew impatient.

“König…” You pressed your heel against his back, trying to express your urgent need for him to move, to speak—to do anything that would let the pleasure spring free from the coil that had begun to tighten itself so harshly in your abdomen.

He swallowed, nodding in a manner that made it seem as though your words had brought him back down to earth. He pulled out of you slowly, hesitant to leave the warmth of your cunt, and you whimpered; you could feel every vein, and the round head of his cock dragged against your walls to further overstimulate your core. You bucked your hips, chasing the feeling.

“Oh, meine Liebling,” he shuddered, “Du willst es verdammt nochmal, eh?” He rumbled, drawing his hips back until the tip of his cock just barely penetrated you. “I will give it to you, Kleine.”

He pushed himself back into you just as harshly as he had the first time, and again you screamed for him, grabbing at his forearms and clawing at his skin in an attempt to ground yourself before the bliss became too much for you to handle.

“You want to break?” He muttered in your ear, his labored breaths fanning the side of your face, “Then you will break.”

“It—oh my god, König, please—” You pushed your head back against the pillows, angling your body closer to his to allow him free reign over you. “Fuck, it’s so much—so fucking—please.”

“Was willst du, Kleine?” He cooed, licking over of your collar bone, “You would like more?”

“M—more,” you managed, “Yes. More.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning at your stammered pleas, and he was more than willing to deliver.

He straightened up, grabbing you by the hips and practically hauling your bottom half up like you were a ragdoll; you whined, loosening your legs around his waist as he was clearly able to support you on his own.

He fucked into you like a toy, like your body was for him and him alone to use in whatever manner pleased him, and you relished in the control he exhibited over you.

“Tiefer,” he grit his teeth as he forced himself into you roughly, “You are easy to use this way, schlampe—so beautiful. Take all of my cock, engel, be good for your Colonel.”

You couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone a verbal reply. You stared up at him with lust-blown eyes, expressing your feelings through heady moans as he pushed the air from you.

You couldn’t help the way your hand meandered from its spot beside your head, leaving its home in the fabric of the pillow to trail down your body so that you could brush your fingers over your clit while König ravished you. You just needed that little push, the outer stimulation to match what he offered you, so that you could free-fall into satisfaction.

And perhaps he’d changed his mind about disallowing you to touch—he hadn’t disputed the way you’d grabbed at his arms when he’d sunk into you. Besides, he seemed too focused on your cunt to worry about any previous demands. Either way, there was only one sure-fire method to find out.

But König wasn’t pleased by the initiative you took. He dropped you, pressing one hand roughly against your hip bone to keep you still as his other hand flew to your wrist.

You yelped at the suddenness, but you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t been the reaction you’d wanted.

He stared, almost in shock, at your hand, your fingers still grazing your clit, before practically throwing your arm back to your side and leaning over you, looming.

“No hands,” he pressed his body against yours, engulfing you, “You have not listened, Kleine.” He thrust shallowly into you, not able to stop himself from appreciating the way you felt on his cock despite his urgency in chastising you.

“I thought—” you searched for an excuse, “Thought you wouldn’t mind.”

He chuckled lowly, glaring in a manner that seemed to border on tender.

“I think you are lying,” he accused, “I think you enjoy being treated like this. You are testing me, schlampe.”

You let out a shaky, needy breath in response to his assertion.

“I’m sorry, Colonel.” You mewled, moving to clasp your hands behind your head in an attempt to show him you had seen the error of your ways.

“I do not want your apology,” he grunted, his thrusts increasing in pace suddenly as he planted his hands on either side of you. “I want your pleasure.” He smiled down at you, leering at the way your face contorted in tandem with the way your body contorted to allow the intrusion of his cock. “I would like to feel it.”

He moved to rest on one forearm above you, his free arm snaking between your bodies to replace your hand with his own on your clit.

His fingers were so much bigger than yours, and he was somewhat clumsy as he rubbed circles over you. But the pressure was exquisite all the same, and he pulled new sounds from you that rose from your chest in appreciation of the friction he was granting you.

“Bitte,” he had once again begun speaking through whines, “Bitte, meine Liebe, let me feel how your cunt squeezes. Wet me with your cum—bitte.”

His broken requests, intercut with guttural grunts and whimpered groans, flooded you with heat. He pressed down on your clit right as he pushed his cock deep into you, lifting his hips upward to create an angle that allowed him to press against your most delicate spot.

You tried to stifle the sound that flew from your throat, and found yourself screaming silently into the room as you came.

“O—oh, bitte,” König’s hips stuttered against you, his head falling back as he reeled from the impact your orgasm had on him. “Ja, I—oh, bitte, bitte—”

He let himself fall forward, crushing you under his frame—though the weight of his body was comforting as you trembled through the aftershocks of your high. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, moaning wantonly as he approached his own release.

“Engel, meine Kleine—perfektes Mädchen,” he was only partially coherent as he licked a stripe up your throat. “I—I will fill you, ja? Bitte, would you let me fill you this way?”

“Please, König,” you breathed, overjoyed by the promise of being able to feel his cum leak from your spent cunt. “Cum in me, I want it—I want it, Colonel, please.”

He growled, reaching his tipping point upon hearing your words, beautiful sounds of approval falling from your lips as you expressed your eagerness at the prospect of him finishing inside your perfect cunt.

He came with a loud moan, guttural and sourced from his chest; his hips stuttered erratically against you as he let your cunt milk him.

You whimpered beneath him, accepting the warmth of his spend as it painted your walls.

He stayed on top of you, both of you taking a moment to recalibrate and catch your breath. When your pulse settled, you took the chance and wrapped an arm around him, trailing your fingers in vague patterns over his shoulder blade.

“König,” you whispered, voice hoarse, “You’re a great Colonel, but you’re a fantastic lay.”

 He rested his chin on your chest, staring up at you. He seemed to translate your words at a much slower speed than he normally would.

He shot you a smug look when it finally clicked.

“I am glad I meet your standards,” he sighed, pressing his cheek into your skin and letting the sweat that beaded over you cool his face. “Are you tired, maus?”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t have lied even if you wanted to; your muscles felt loose, and your body sunk into the suddenly cozy mattress.

“Sleep.” He shuffled down your body, maneuvering one of your legs over his shoulders and slotting his face between your thighs.

“What are you doing?” You smiled down at him, and he looked back at you with bright, eager eyes.

“I would like to clean the mess I made.” He replied in a tone that made it seem as though his plan should have been obvious to you.

You hummed, squeezing his head lightly with your thighs.

“Mm...so the mask is really just a muzzle, hm?” You mused.

“We will be here all night,” König smiled, nipping at your thigh as he reiterated his earlier words. “I want to enjoy you.”

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

[fuxuannie]

❥﹒ken sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — romantic headcanons about our favourite baseball player!

✦. love mail — i finished the movie and i loved his character development, simply the sweetest thing <3

✦. tags — SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, kenji sato x reader, i have not written in several months, i wrote this w my brain off ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ) aka i was just SPITTING whatever brain rot came to mind

I imagine Kenji to be the clingy, but doesn’t want to be type. He loves you, so much, so dearly. But affection isn’t his strong suit, especially not after what happened with his family. He shut out emotions for years, at least towards others. So this feeling of love, a nostalgic one, tends to clash with the walls he’s put up. He’ll hold you in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, only for hours later to cringe at himself. He’s talked to you about it a thousand times, and he’s listened to you reassure him twice as many. He adores your patience with him, it's something he’s never really had.. especially with so much pressure on his shoulders.

Explaining his identity was surely no easy feat, you thought dating the most iconic and popular baseball players was the hardest thing? Imagine dating Ultraman, who came home to you every other week with some new injury. You always wondered why the reason was so simple for such a complicated wound, “I spilled boiling water on myself,” He explains with burn marks that are far more severe than expected. “I fell down the stairs”, he’ll say after landing in the hospital.. It didn’t make sense. And now that it does and you know the true reasons, your concern is far worse. Though he doesn’t mind the extra attention you give. ;)

Meeting his dad for the first time was.. nerve-wracking. You know how Kenji talks about him, and you weren’t sure what kind of impression you’ll make. But here you were, sitting on a couch and fiddling with your thumbs until you hear a doorbell. Before Kenji could even stand, you rushed to your feet and practically sprinted for the door, only to open it slowly and gently to reveal the kind old man standing outside. “Hello.” Cut to maybe an hour later, you’re laughing at old pictures of Kenji as he sits next to you and an arm wrapped around your shoulder. The two had a long path of forgiveness and understanding ahead, but Kenji appreciated that you brought him and his father together.

Thought the dad was scary? Imagine his daughter. As expected, the moment you walk into the room - distress. Emi’s starting to cry, an unfamiliar presence is in the room and it scares her. You’ve done a few babysitting jobs here and there, and she was really just like a child. Kenji apologized for her outburst and transforms to calm her down, opening the lid and picking her up under her arms. “No no, don’t cry.” His voice soothes her, and almost immediately - she’s okay again. It’ll take a few minutes, it really isn’t long until she trusts too you. Kenji found it adorable, how you played with her so casually.. many would be terrified, and rightfully so - but to him? It just displays your kind heart. My God did he love you.

Remember first headcanon? Right, to add to that, he’s not very good at vulnerability either. He’ll love to comfort you when you cry, or hold you when you need him. But if the roles were reversed? Absolutely not. He’s uncomfortable and you can see it, one look into his eyes and it’s like looking through glass.. he hates being open about his true feelings. Even if it’s with you.. the walls he’s built for 20 years aren’t easy to break, you know? But if you’re patient, and you take your time and say the right words – he’ll crack. And like a dam breaking, the water flows in an uncontrollable wave of sadness. He’ll sob, he’ll break, and he’ll need you more than anything. He doesn’t know how to feel about breaking down, but the way you hold him in your arms and whisper sweet nothings to comfort him, he could get used to it.

But on a lighthearted note, he loves dates! Most have to be in his home, because Emi can be clingy (got it from his dad), but you don’t mind. It’s sweet, he’ll have you play baseball with her or all you do is cuddle ontop of her, it’s the cutest little thing. But other times, when you go out– it’s just the two of you. And upon special request from Kenji for Mina to babysit her while you're there, you two get alone time. and it’s everything to him. The smallest affection has his heart racing like a teenage boy again, wrapping your arm around his, holding his hand, kissing him? Goodness, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it. You and Emi are his world, and he’ll do everything to protect it. Other days, you, him, and and his father go out to the home in the woods for some personal time. You get to talk about his childhood with him and you talk about yours. There’s such a tender and unforgettable atmosphere when you’re with them. And you truly feel like you belong.

Overotectiveness, he was full of it. He’s lost so much, and all he wanted was for you to not go either. Nothing, nothing could stop his rage at the idea of you being hurt. You, Emi, anyone else important to him. He’ll take on the world for his family, and by the will of his parents he has. The pain he’s endured, the scars you scold him for so much are for you. If one threat escapes the city, that’s one likely chance he loses you. So he does everything he can to handle it. You’ve never gotten hurt, but the idea of it is enough for him to strive to be stronger.

While recovering from the explosion, you never left his side. It pained you to see him so still, lack of life. He’d usually be pacing back and forth in the room, rambling about something, and when you’d call him a nerd or dork, he'd run to you and playfully attack you with kisses. His arms around you tightly as you two would laugh your worries away, you didn’t have that privilege. You’d either laugh alone or not at all, the pain all too much. When he wakes up, best believe you’re there, and you just cry at the sight of his arms opening. You know his body is far too unstable for a hug, so you squeeze his hand. How grateful you are to feel him squeeze back.

With Mina and Emi gone, the house feels a little more lonely.. but Kenji’s adjusting. Especially because you moved in! He’s able to spend more time with you in bed since he didn’t have to tend to Emi, which was a nice plus. He woke up earlier than you (force of habit.) and he’d just.. stare. Maybe it was a little creepy, but seeing you sound asleep in his arms gave him such joy. He loved the little domestic moments he shared with you, it had him appreciating all the smaller things in life. Like sharing a meal with you, or watching movies together. You made him love the simpler aspects of living.

[soobnny]

dating him | hwang hyunjin

❝ i’ve never seen anything quite like you, my love ❞

chan | lee know | changbin | HYUNJIN | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

hopeless romantic hwang hyunjin

love is beautiful and brilliant hwang hyunjin

yall cannot convince me that he isn’t the BIGGEST lover

romance is in his blood

he is so fascinated by it

so, for that reason, i feel like dating him would be like the love you read about or watch in movies

bc hyunjin would b the type to consume so much of romantic media

it’s where he learned everything from

wow what a dream

he strikes me as the type to fall in love with every little thing too

his eyes is just a lens of romance

and it’s set on YOU

every single love language he has it .. but here are some specifics

love language #1 gift giving

hyunjin is a traveler okay

and in every trip, he always has something to give you

keychains, t-shirts, bags, jewelry, stickers, refrigerator magnets, pins, you name it

even u have to remind him not to go all out sometimes

bc when that boy splurges, he SPENDS

esp for u ? he would spoil u in a heartbeat

he always makes sure he leaves a day of his travels dedicated to u and thinking about u

on that note, he tends to buy u guys matching items

matching phone cases, matching rings, matching scrunchie

whatever u can get that’s matching

he WILL get it

it excites him too

he loves being able to tell the world how in love he is

wait side note

whenever he’s traveling, he’s always just instinctively thinking about you

he buys this bagel for breakfast, oh ???? like hey guys yn loves bagels too

and the boys r like WE KNOWWWW 😭

everything is about u quite literally

ok continuing on

and he gifts u his art too

his art is very important to him

and he has found lately, u are the one person littering his sketch books

oh he’s down bad

i think for ur anniversary, he’d paint the constellations of how the stars looked that night and aligned perfectly

or his favorite picture of you

down bad that he also buys u a shit ton of dresses

and lingerie ………….

look he knows his fashion

he knows what looks great

u can’t blame him for buying what he knows will look so pretty on you

(he’d probably give u his card one time and say “go crazy” like wow he’s packed)

#2 quality time

i think his favorite dates would also be expensive

he just can’t help himself

BUT u know he has a sweet spot for self care dates too

spa days are very important to him

loves being able to relax and unwind with u

he especially loves when u play with his hair and when u paint his nails

one time, u caught him stealing one of your nail polishes

would also be the type to bring some bit of you in his travels

like ur perfume or ur shampoo

anything that’ll remind him of u

tho ur scent is his favorite

hence why he goes for perfumes or soap or shampoos bc u feel closer to him this way

he just loves being with u even if both of u are doing nothing

just like that bruno major song

conversations where u lose track of time

conversations as in talking shit about the people you hate together

😭😭😭😭

i think he’d want to paint with u

he’d be so shy to ask you too

just simple things

that cute date idea where you swap paintings every 5 mins or something

when u showed him that tiktok, he jumped in excitement

he wanted to do it right away

he prepares everything

he has both ur paintings framed in his room

it’s his most prized posession

oh, and he always invites u to game nights with the boys

he is SO competitive at monopoly

he couldn’t give two shits about other games

u don’t know why he gets so worked up with monopoly

“SEUNGMIN DONT DO IT SEUNGMIN!!!!”

it’s actually rly funny

he would be the type to take revenge

“you’re gonna regret buying a house there”

would cheer if his friends go to jail in the game or if they go bankrupt

doesn’t even try to hide it

and if he’s playing as the banker, he’d slip in extra bills for you

#3 words of affirmation

tho usually said when he thinks u’re asleep

he’s thankful that u take care of him when he forgets to

esp when he’s so immersed in his art

he whispers words of love

like poets and authors in books

he is just so full of love i can’t say it enough

physical touch except instead of touch, he loves kissing you

LIPS AND NECK ESPECIALLY

those are his top 2

he uses tongue 😕 sorry to break it to u

and he also leaves hickeys

so don’t run out of concealer okay!!!!!!! bc he tends to leave like a lot

before i end

here r some more dates he loves

botanical gardens

he’d pick a flower and place it behind your ear

now it’s his lockscreen

sunday markets

he loves the domesticity of shopping together

he buys u lots of flowers

every single type

u think he’s given u all types already

there is never a day where ur apartment doesn’t have flowers in a vase

bc as soon as the first sign of death arrives, he’s off to buy u new ones

he strikes me as the type to also go all out for valentines

hyunjin would send u mounts of chocolates and flowers

take u out to the fanciest date

u get to try new food and cuisines bc of him!

might even buy plane tickets so u two could travel together

maaaaaaaan just treasure everything

a love like hyunjin’s is hard to come by

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[bethanydelleman]

One criticism of Jane Austen is that she ignored the lower classes. I find this kind of dumb on multiple levels, primarily because not every work of fiction or social criticism needs to include every single social ill, but also because she does talk about servants/the lower classes quite a bit more than people realize and what she says is important.

The overall theme: kindness to servants/the lower classes/the poor is a very important mark of character.

We all know that Elizabeth Bennet changed her mind about Mr. Darcy after hearing a positive character reference from his housekeeper, but that is just one example of many. The Dashwood girls are better employers than John & Fanny since they easily find servants to move across the country with them: Her wisdom too limited the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with whom they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland. Also, servants tended to brag about having wealthy employers, these three servants wanted both a far away and a less prestigious job. John & Fanny were really that bad!

Another mark against General Tilney's character is that he gets irrationally angry at/scares servants:

To such anxious attention was the General’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment herself. “What did William mean by it? He should make a point of inquiring into the matter.” And if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his master forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.

“Why! How can you ask the question? Because no time is to be lost in frightening my old housekeeper out of her wits, because I must go and prepare a dinner for you, to be sure.” (Henry, on his father coming to his house for a visit. This may be half a joke, but General Tilney is very critical of the meal)

Mrs. Ferrars's character is made quite plain in this complaint about paying annuities (basically a pension here) to some of her husband's old servants:

I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father’s will, and it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my mother’s disposal, without any restriction whatever.

Mrs. Ferrars is loaded, and she begrudges paying a few pounds to 3 servants. She is greedy and ungrateful.

Mrs. Norris's treatment of the servants is similar to her treatment of Fanny. It shows the depth of her miserliness (how much could one boy really eat?) and also cruelty:

"I had been looking about me in the poultry-yard, and was just coming out, when who should I see but Dick Jackson making up to the servants’ hall-door with two bits of deal board in his hand, bringing them to father, you may be sure; mother had chanced to send him of a message to father, and then father had bid him bring up them two bits of board, for he could not no how do without them. I knew what all this meant, for the servants’ dinner-bell was ringing at the very moment over our heads; and as I hate such encroaching people (the Jacksons are very encroaching, I have always said so: just the sort of people to get all they can), I said to the boy directly (a great lubberly fellow of ten years old, you know, who ought to be ashamed of himself), ‘I’ll take the boards to your father, Dick, so get you home again as fast as you can.’ The boy looked very silly, and turned away without offering a word, for I believe I might speak pretty sharp; and I dare say it will cure him of coming marauding about the house for one while. I hate such greediness—so good as your father is to the family, employing the man all the year round!”

It also highlights her hypocrisy, as Mrs. Norris has moved in during the play to help with the preparations, so she is getting free meals all week but she won't let this kid eat when he's helping his father (who is building the stage for the play)

Mr. Knightley considers the common people of Highbury before moving a path, even though he likely owns all of the land and can do whatever he wants:

"But John, as to what I was telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly the present line of the path"

The kind Musgroves, who have given their nursemaid a retirement plan instead of turning her out:

A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Louisa.

And who clearly are rewarded for this kindness.

Anne Elliot showing kindness to Mrs. Smith, who has nearly fallen right out of the gentry, vs. her fathers disdain for charity:

“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age? Forty?”

Added to Sir Walter and Elizabeth's idea to cut expenses:

“Can we retrench? Does it occur to you that there is any one article in which we can retrench?” and Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom."

Vs. how the Crofts treat the poor:

She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners’.

Henry Crawford's moral fall begins with ignoring the needs of his tenants:

"I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon. I am not satisfied about Maddison. I am sure he still means to impose on me if possible, and get a cousin of his own into a certain mill, which I design for somebody else. I must come to an understanding with him. I must make him know that I will not be tricked on the south side of Everingham, any more than on the north: that I will be master of my own property... I have a great mind to go back into Norfolk directly, and put everything at once on such a footing as cannot be afterwards swerved from. Maddison is a clever fellow; I do not wish to displace him, provided he does not try to displace me; but it would be simple to be duped by a man who has no right of creditor to dupe me, and worse than simple to let him give me a hard-hearted, griping fellow for a tenant, instead of an honest man, to whom I have given half a promise already. Would it not be worse than simple? Shall I go? Do you advise it?”

Of course, Henry does not go to Everginham, as he knows is right, but instead goes to the party in London, where he again runs into Maria...

Yes, Austen didn't write servants/the lower classes as full characters in general, they are in the background and around the edges of the scenes, but over and over, we can sort characters into moral and immoral by their treatment of those less fortunate around them.

[dollwrites]

ʀᴜᴍ ʀᴜɴɴᴇʀ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ɢᴀʟʟᴀɢʜᴇʀ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!waitress!reader, innocent!reader, dub con, suggested age gap, size kink, thighjob, public play, scent marking. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act nine [ thigh fucking ]

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“One more rum runner, please.”

“My pleasure, I’ll have that right out.”

Dreamjolt Holstery was abuzz, tables full, a slow and sultry jazz melody practically drifting through the air as a pretty Halovian woman in a sparkling dress tickled the ivories with expert and slender fingers. the atmosphere smelled of spices and mixing cologne. cherry-flavored fog curls up from a boulder-shaped man’s cigar in a corner booth by himself. and you traipse the maze of customers needing tending with the grace and elegance befitting your status as Penacony-born. after all, the Dreamscape was like your second home, and you’d learned how to traverse it with ease. the tourists you pass by, table after table full of awed looks and hushed whispers of wonder at the whimsical land they’re vacationing in, never fail to make you smile. happy that they’re enjoying themselves here.

your dress flutters like wings as you pass the empty service bar. usually, that would be your stop. the bartender would make each order you ask for with care, and when it was done, you’d arrange them neatly upon a tray and distribute them throughout the lounge. a familiar twirling, light-footed dance around tables and through aisles of booths. tonight, however, the service bar was darkened. the tender was not there, and that was because it was closed. all through your shift, you’ve had to squish yourself into the packed crowd waiting for drinks at the main bar.

where Gallagher worked, of course.

your cheeks seem to take on a heat at the simple mention of his name in your thoughts. you thought about the scruffy, smirking bartender. how his baritone rumbles, a hound’s growl in his throat, and the syllables of your name drip from his tongue. it makes you weak in the knees, which is why you much prefer when the service bar is open so you can avoid swooning from one, little smolder.

approaching the bar to find not a stool vacant, and not an inch of space without someone taking it up, you sigh softly, attempting to get Gallagher’s attention from the furthest corner, nearest the employee entrance, by waving your hand, though at first he’s immersed in conversation with his patrons. as much as you hated to interrupt, you had your own customers to take care of. “Gallagher!” you call out, waving your hand again, though you were unsure if you were as dwarfed by the crowd as you felt.

thankfully, however, a sleepy-looking moonstone gaze falls upon you, and he makes his way down to you, picking up an order or two on the way. “Gotta get that service bar up and runnin’,” he says in a lazy drawl, reaching to grab two bottles by the necks off the display rack, “what do you need, girlie?” but he didn’t sound annoyed, or rude. in fact, it was difficult not to focus on the little smirk that inched his lips up.

“One more rum runner,” you reply with a sheepish and apologetic bat of your eyelashes. “Then I promise to leave you alone.”

Gallagher chuckles at that, shaking his head as he plucks the run up with the same hand. “Now, that, I wouldn’t even dream of.” he answers, dumping the ingredients into a cocktail shaker. he seems not to notice the way you shy away from him as he works, afraid to look at the way his muscles bulge against the tight confines of his shirt along his biceps as he shakes up the drink, lest you embarrass yourself by staring. if he did, then he didn’t say anything, already giving his attention to the customer ordering right in front of him.

nervously, you drum your fingers on the bartop, trying to look anywhere else. even as his rough, yet light-hearted chuckle warms the aura. your eyes flit downward, to your own fingers, before they follow a little puddle of translucent, glowing liquid that had probably been spilt as he made a drink earlier, but had yet to be wiped up. then, your eyeline, as if pulled by gravity, jumps to to cocktail glass in front of him, and the reddish orange drink that flooded into it. following the arc of his pour, your gaze crests along the thickness of his knuckles, faint scars you can see peeking out from beneath the leather of his fingerless glove, and the sheer size of his hand. up, up, up your stare crawled. along his tan forearm, branded with more criss-cross scarring and thick, dark hair, to the folds in his shirt, rolled up at the elbow whilst he worked. the sloping mountains of his bicep, and along the broad expanse of his shoulder, before you found yourself doing exactly what you had been trying not to— staring at his handsome face. thankfully, he was preoccupied, and didn’t feel you looking. it gave you more time to admire the little details. the fine lines in the corner of his tired eyes, a testament to his age. the sparsely scattered hair above his lip and on his chin, the deep plunge of his nose from the profile view you were given.

“Gall… agher…” you weren’t even certain you’d said it out loud, but your lips most certainly formed the syllables as you admired him. that was, until you realized the rum runner was finished. instead of handing it to you like he had been doing all night, though, he’d set it on the back counter, where the racks of booze were. had he gotten too distracted by conversation? “Gallagher, the drink—“

but he was already busy, making another. his back was to you as he swaggered down to the opposite end of the bar to fulfill another order.

well, that’s no big deal— he’s super busy, and anyway, you can take a couple more steps to grab a drink. pulling on the divider, the staff entrance opens, and you scurry behind the bar. it takes three steps into Gallagher’s domain to reach your order, but you’ve no time to wrap your fingers around the stem of the glass before you feel his imposing, warm figure at your back.

“Finally,” he murmurs, and you shudder at just how close his mouth is to your ear. he must be leaning down to allow his lips to just brush against the shell of it, his breath hot and heavy against the side of your cheek. it raises goosebumps on your arms, and your hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. his arm stretches out, to place a bottle back into it’s home of the shelf in front of you, but it feels more like a maneuver to box you in against the bar. “Been tryin’ to get you back here all night long, girlie.”

“W—why?” you ask, your eyes flickering down to the other side of the bar. one, powerful hand rests upon it, truly caging you in place. “I should really get this out to my table—“ you’d reached for the drink again, the sensation of him at your back like a thick, sturdy wall that radiates heat making you dizzy.

“In a minute,” he stops you, nuzzling his face against your hair. it takes a moment of burrowing before he reaches your neck, sniffing wildly like a beast who’s taken with the aroma of a fresh kill, before he snorts, allowing his lips to dance along the tender column of your neck. “You wanna know something? I’ve kept my eye on you, and let me tell you… That little dress a’yers been driving me wild all night.” his heavy boots crunches of spilled ice as he plants his feet on either side of yours, pressing his body right up against your back. it was then that you felt a bulge, thick and hard, rubbing against your butt through his trousers. you can’t help the embarrassing half-whine that leaves your lips, or the humiliation that follows when he hears it. “You feel it, don’t you, little girl?” he purrs against your skin, the dull edges of his teeth grazing your flawless skin. “How hard you make me, just by skipping around in that skimpy skirt. Your soft, warm thighs on perfect display for me.” one hand slides off the bar to grip your thigh, and you practically melt into his groping. he can nearly close his large fist around your thigh, his fingers brushing up against your panties. a low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat when he feels how warm your core is, and you can’t help the damp patch that is subsequently formed. “Been wanting to get my hands on ya. Feel you just like this. Make you feel me, too.” his other hand disappears now, too, between his body and yours. moments later, you hear the unbuckling of his belt, the undoing of his fly.

“Gallagher—“ it was hard to think, what with the air around you and him thick with lust, and his heavy breath on your neck, but you still managed to stammer out, “th—the drink will get— watery—“

“I’ll make ya a hundred of ‘em after this if it does, so long as you just hush up for a minute, little girl.” he mutters, and frees his aching cock from it’s confines. slipping it under your skirt, he teased the back of your panties with the tip for moment, trailing hot pecks up your neck and along your jaw bone. “Stay just like this, and let me feel those plush thighs squeeze my cock.” pushing the head of his dick along the curve of your panty line, it’s only a matter of moments before it worms it’s way between your thighs, perching your clothed core atop his length. pushing up on to your toes in order to keep your balance, you gasp and grab the edge of the bartop with both hands, but Gallagher has snaked his hands around you, pressing them both flat against your belly to push your body back against him. “That’s a good girl,” he praises gruffly, his hips rolling forward against you. there’s a little resistance at first, before your arousal and his own precum mingle between your thighs and create a sticky, slick cavity for him to fuck. you glance down, breathless, and watch the way his cock jabs against the ruffles in your skirt when he thrusts, and how the bulge disappears when he recoils. the wet cotton of your panties is harsh on your sensitive cunt as it sits flush against the veiny tool pumping between your thighs. “So soft,” he murmurs, before taking your earlobe between his teeth, tugging ever so slightly. “But you’re soaking wet, girlie. You’re making a mess on yourself. That greedy pussy of yours already wants a turn?”

“A—ah, d-don’t…” you feel your humiliation growing with each word, your cheeks on fire and your body trembling. you weren’t asking him to stop, you couldn’t imagine forming those words. “D—don’t say that, it’s dirty…!”

Gallagher chuckles, but it’s hoarse and forced from his lips. “So shy.” he scoffs, taking the flare of your hip against his palm to move your body back and forth, and match his eager rhythm. “For a little thing pinned to the bar, riding my cock. Clenching her pretty, little thighs while I use ‘em just like a sweet. Little. Pussy.” each word is emphasized by a snap of his hips, ramming his girth forward. every throbbing vein on his cock creates a ridge that you feel as it scrapes against your swollen clit, and you mewl with your lips pursed, your imagination running wild with what it would feel like if he’d decided, instead, to push your panties aside and fuck you properly.

“You already feel too good,” Gallagher growls against your cheek, giving it a tender, little kiss. it was a stark juxtaposition to the way his girth pounded the tight gap between your thighs, but it still made you crumble back into his arms, swooning. “Gonna make me cum quick.”

“W—what?” you blinked, suddenly hyper aware. you try to push yourself back up, but the hold he has on your hip and belly keeps you firmly against his heaving chest as he roughly chases his high. “Wh—where are you—“

“Heh.”

it was a half a chuckle, but it was all Gallagher could form before he was grinding his teeth. hips erratically bucking forward, he changes the angle by taking a half a step forward, nearly pushing you over the bar in the process, and his tip jams itself repeatedly and angrily against your panties, each time shooting a rope of his release that clings to the fabric and threatens to tear them open with the force applied. somehow, the soiled, wet fabric holds some of its integrity, even as he empties his balls on to it, allowing his smell to really seep into the fibers and mix with yours. “Even a mutt knows to mark his territory so others don’t claim it.” he hisses after a long moment of listening to his huffing and puffing as he came on your panties.

“Y—your territory?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

with a few more shakes, using his fist to grip his cock and squeeze the last couple of beads from the softening cock, he takes a step back, giving enough space to be able to tuck it back into his pants without a single patron realizing what was going on. you stumble, once you drop down from your sore toes flat on your feet. the warm, wet feeling of Gallagher’s cum deep in the threads of your panties making your legs feel like jelly.

“Mhm, those warm thighs. Your needy, little cunt. Mine now, ain’t they?” he grins down at you, placing a hand against your lower back to keep you steady so you don’t fall. he doesn’t wait for an answer before he uses his free hand to push the rum runner into yours, and he gives you a little nudge to send you stumbling, blinking and dazed after what just happened, out from behind the bar with a playful taunt. “Now, hurry up. Drink’s gettin’ watery.”

[mattsbows]

nurse!reader. . .babying matt while he's sick ♡

"this is so stupid," matt groaned, pulling the comforter closer to his red nose. "i was literally fine yesterday."

you hummed softly, popping a cold and flu tablet out of the plastic and passing it to him. "that is the way sicknesses tend to work." you chuckled.

your boyfriend groaned, laying his head back against the pillow after he had taken the medicine. "i hate this." he groaned before being cut off by a chesty cough.

"you gotta stay hydrated, sweetheart. it'll get rid of the cough," you told matt, brushing some of his hair off his sweltering forehead. "hot tea, water, or juice?"

"mmmm, root beer."

"i don't think root beer is going to hydrate you. besides sugar isn't good for your immune system."

matt huffed, clearly agitated with his illness, despite the fact that it was a common cold. "why do you know everything? you're like a walking nursing textbook."

"i did go to nursing school. look at the RN next to my name." you giggled.

in spite of himself, matt found a soft smile creeping onto his face at your giggles. he was beyond lucky to have you, and he was even more lucky that his sickness had decided to wait until one of your days off to rear its ugly head.

"i guess some hot tea would be nice, please." he mumbled, throat wheezy from all the congestion.

you smiled at your sucessful attempt to get matt to relax. "one hot tea with extra honey and lemon coming right up," before you left the room, you laid your cheek against your boyfriend's warm forehead. "fever of 101.2." you stated.

"since when are you a thermometer?"

"wanna bet?" you challenged.

all throughout nursing school and even now in your job, you'd found that you had a special skill for being accurate in checking temperatures nearly all the time, even with just the touch of your hand. you plucked the thermometer off matt's nightstand, sliding it under his tongue and waiting for the beep.

"101.3!" you cheered as the device beeped. "i was close."

"okay, okay. you were right." matt chuckled, letting out a sneeze.

"try to rest, baby," you mumbled, planting a kiss on his stubble-covered cheek. "i'm gonna go make your tea and get a cool rag for you."

matt pulled the covers around himself more as he watched you leave the room, wondering how on earth he had gotten so lucky to not only have a nurse as his girlfriend, but the best nurse as his girlfriend.

a note from the author: i literally love nurse!reader sm, she's my baby<3 i hope you all enjoy ♡

❁ tags: @mattsdemi @purpledragon222 @slxtarchive @natashad0627 @quinnysnursery @tyummyz

© mattsbows

[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

[clitorphosis]

SPIT TO SEE THE SHINE

Vendetta Leon S. Kennedy x reader |18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON, smut, age gap (reader is in 20s, Leon is 37) female reader, abusive relationship, implied alcoholism, stockholm syndrome, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, use of ‘daddy’ (not a lot), implied erectile disfunction lmao, victim blaming, fingering, implied physical and sexual violence, forced breeding.

Summary: life gets lonelier after 30s, the realization hits harder Leon and the way to cope with it is to get his hands on alcohol… too bad booze tends to encourage him to not be a good man - ending up with a younger girl in his apartment. Maybe it is a grave mistake, but Leon is just a man and who doesn’t make them? notes: uhm, this may be a lil bit self indulgent, sorry for that :3 I DONT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE!!! reblogs, asks and any kind of feedback or interaction are really appreciated! :3

tags: @withonly-sweetheart

Mama has told you not to trust strangers, the concern was referred to the men, but your ears have never held her words for a time longer than a day. Nor did you remember her words when an attractive, older man noticed you and was nice enough to ask you out. That night was supposed to be a little date, giddy and happy jumping into the front seat of his car. That’s the last thing you remember. Eventually, you can not fathom how this happened - the day later your head hurt as you were forced to swallow the hard pill: you got kidnapped by your date.

The first month was insufferable and painful, slowly growing out of your ‘rebellious attitude’ and memorizing his body language like a child in an abusive household. His gaze is everywhere, keeping you locked up in the room when he is not present, a reminder to you that there is no free choice. The food, clothes, and your free time were defined by Leon’s mood and taste which… Liked to swing, creating a mess for you both, not knowing if he was genuinely ashamed of what he had done. You hated him, dreaming about the day when his throat would be sliced, painting your hands with red just to breathe in the air of freedom.

Mama knows best. No, Leon knows best.

Sometimes Leon is mean, without hesitation, sharp words can be thrown at you when he is drunk. Blaming his misery on you. Trying not to be affected by them, not enough to avoid some of them as they cling to your mind - circling as a reminder.

“You deserve this, what did you think a man would want from a woman?”,

“you are better dead”,

“you asked for this”. Did you actually?

Sometimes he is the nicest guy around here. Showering you with tenderness and care, trying to have a normal conversation, but not daring to look into your eyes. Ashamed probably, which was bittersweet and pleasant, but confusing too. Like a couple. You promised yourself to not change the way you feel about him, even if he is sweet. Not like you have a lot of options now.

Certainly, Stockholm syndrome wasn’t going to avoid you, it didn’t take long either. You aren’t special and Leon looked so lonely, returning after work mostly devastated. The expression someone would have had while grieving over something not obtainable. Not even daring to look into your face, ignoring you until his hands do not reach the booze - drinking himself until his mood changes to a handsy one. Physical or sexual. Sometimes both. And Leon is lonely, he told it himself once. Naturally or not, anger has changed to pity, while hate is mixed with something affectionate towards him. You can’t help yourself.

As someone has said - from love to hatred is one step.

So the routine has become clear after a month of staying here, sitting on the floor and watching TV while Leon is behind you. Big brother is watching you - no, Leon is watching you. Drunk or not, monitoring whatever is on the screen is appropriate in his eyes. Not for too long you were concentrating on the blue gleam coming from the screen, illuminating both frames in the living room, now like a natural thing for you both - his fingers end up in your panties to rub your clit in slow and lazy circles. His chest is pressing against your back, focused on your expressions and squirming. His calloused fingertips press harder against your sensitive clit, to hear your voice. Your body is the biggest enemy here - like a Pavlovian dog, reacting to his touch quickly and eagerly. The skin of his fingers is wet and soaked with your slick already, in no time, filling the room with squelching and wet sounds as your moans become harder to keep to yourself. Writhing and trying to shift away, but your body tends to become immobile most of the time - there is no fight or flight, just freeze.

“You look so miserable. It is reassuring, so cute too” In misery, together. His tone is the one someone would use for a dog. Always using that one with you, but you are not a dog. Not like you have any other choices right now, other than taking like a good girl and not lamenting.

If someone would have asked you, Leon is shameless with you, not the one to be shy after a bottle of whiskey, even if he can’t get it up sometimes. His fingers nudge your soaked hole, which aches for his attention. It clenches around nothing, pathetically and you disappointedly whine at the emptiness inside you.

“Come on, open your legs, be a nice girl for Daddy” Leon cooed. His lips brush over your ear, not giving you a chance to do this by yourself - forcing your legs roughly to part wider. “So much better now”

Your hips shift, arching your back as his two fingers intrude into your pussy, curling sweetly inside it to push them at your favorite sweet spot - to enforce more moans at every jolt of pleasure hitting your body. Leon likes that, watching you squirm and open your mouth like a fish desperate for air cause of him. His grip on your jaw is tight, painful even - there are going to be bruises tomorrow and he will be apologizing like a madman.

“Daddy has been so miserable these days too, fucking Redfield is always hassling me.” You don’t know who is that. The sound of his hand fumbling with his belt and the fly of his jeans reach your ears, a loud noise of them falling on the floor. “Can’t even have a vacation, what would you do without me, baby?”

“Ughh…!” you choke on your moans. There is no thought behind your eyes, your entire attention is on your pleasure. Feeling overwhelmed at every thrust of his fingers, writhing in his hold while he is roughly pumping into your drenched hole, an uncomfortable wetness clings to your inner thighs - begging to fuck you already.

“Fuck, I am so sorry, sweetheart, but you are so wet. I can’t. Just the tip, okay? Sorry,” he groans breathlessly, giving hot and quick kisses on the side of your head. Sweet touch. His gaze darkens and his body presses harder against yours, feeling his erection press against your ass. “just… this hole is dripping, and you don’t look like you don’t want it”

You are so close actually, every thrust hitting your sweet spot, curling, and keeping the quick pace of his fingers make you almost drool while focusing on approaching orgasm. Too bad that isn’t on his to-do list. As much as he wants to see you cum, on his fingers or not, - his own pleasure is much more important, especially when his dick is hard. Whiskey dick isn’t so easy to get up these days. His fingers roughly withdraw from your soaked hole with a squelching pop, denying your orgasm. The emptiness returns and your sensitive pussy clenched around nothing again - aching to be filled again.

“So messy,” Leon mutters out, shoving his index and middle fingers in your mouth - forcing you to clean them, your tongue rolls and wraps around them, tasting yourself before he finally pulls them away. “asking for bad things to happen”

You can swear to God this made your clit throb. Wetter than you can ever be, or you are hallucinating, hoping this isn’t the case. Thoughts are quickly brushed aside when his cock is pressed in between your pussy lips, bumping against your aching clit while he rubs himself against your soaked and needy cunt that coats his flesh in your slick, lubing his length in it before he pushed his cock into you - Leon is not really a patient man. Yeah, just the tip, of course. Your velvety walls easily swallow his cock, stretching inch by inch with pleasant pain and letting it slide as he pushed in quick motion until his cock got buried deep inside you. Balls pressed against your flesh, while you can’t help but tightly clench around him, his chest is pressed against your back. Relishing how tight and warm is your pussy, the best and most calming feeling for Leon - to fill you with his cock for his own pleasure. Your hair gets tugged roughly, making your head roll back while Leon starts moving slowly. His cock drags against your walls, pulling out until only a tip remains inside.

“See? Only a tip” Leon mocks you, before slamming back in, bottoming out in one thrust. You whimper and squirm, but his hold on your hair is hard - the only way to keep you under his control. His hips start pounding into you, falling deep into the pleasure connecting your bodies. “Your pussy just feels so good, weren’t you made for this, mmm?”

His movements stutter as his pace slowens when his blue eyes make eye contact with the TV. You didn’t really catch on what was happening until his hand tugged your hair, directing your half-lidded gaze to the point of his interest. The sight of your image on the news, big words on the red background: MISSING PERSON. The former shelf of yourself is staring at you both, smiling brightly - not knowing there is no future for you. The volume is turned off. In this household, it is common knowledge that Leon doesn’t let you watch the news, every time getting agitated and avoiding you even more, when sober, which doesn’t last long after that. The mood swing was quick, every time it was like a loud thunderstorm, his hips make another thrust - cock hits your cervix and forces out a loud moan, involuntarily, when Leon’s cockhead grinds against it.

“This is bullshit, you know?” He hisses into your ear, giving another rough thrust to make you gasp pathetically, as he presses your head against the TV screen. “no one is coming for you. Why? Cause you are forgettable, baby, no one needs you”

“S-stop, Leon” you mumble in between moans and trying to keep yourself aware of what is happening. “T-too much, p-please!”

Your body feels like it is on fire due to the mix of emotions he provokes, your cunt grips his cock tightly while aching for your denied orgasm from before. His hand gives a hard slap on your sensitive clit, making you arch and flinch. Your pussy flutters, gripping him tighter.

“Shhh, I am doing a favor here” he mutters, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the news while his pounding grew more erratic, intensifying wet and flesh-hitting sounds. His voice is loud in your ears, muffling other sounds, overwhelming as his cock keeps making rough thrusts into you with every word - to punctuate them. “Keeping you here, taking care of useless you that can’t do anything right”

He buries himself deep again, pausing again to relish in the feeling of his cock filling you, while your wet walls engulf him nicely - like a drug, inviting him to stay there and never pull away. Slick drips down your thighs, and his nose brushes behind your ear before nibbling on the soft cartilage. His hand gives another light slap on your pussy, the tightness of your walls almost makes him cum.

“Maybe a baby, what do you think about it, mm?” The idea makes him throb, sliding in and out more erratically. As if he cares about your opinion right now, his fingers tug your hair harder, but his words make you flinch harder. Tears prick behind your eyelids.

“No-no-no. You can’t cum inside, no!” He is not wearing a condom. Bad, too bad. Begging comes out naturally for you now, in between your moans. Fear coats your voice, as the idea sets in quickly - being trapped here cause of an unfortunate kid. “Not the baby! Leon, please! I’ll be good, please!”

“Of course, I can. Shut up. You like this” Leon hisses, keeping your head in a firm hold, so your eyes are set on the old photo. It doesn’t feel right, but you can’t stop yourself from making noises, shifting so Leon would hit a better angle. This somewhat combines with a shame, at every hint of it your mind shoves it away. “You can’t look at yourself, too bad. Dripping even more after my words, like a whore.“

Wanting to cum, focusing more on the pleasure of his dick filling your hole - feels so wrong, but good. Like your body shouldn’t enjoy how Leon’s hips keep pounding into your soaked cunt, hitting the pudgy spot and making you repeat his name like a prayer, but your own mind and body are the biggest enemy, betraying you. His own balls tighten, as a reminder of his so soon approaching orgasm.

“You love me right, baby?” Leon whispers, voice coming out breathy and brushing against your ear shell. His calloused fingers crawl back to your clit, flicking and rubbing it roughly and unsteadily. Trying to keep the feeling of that warm tightness sucking in his cock.

“I love you, Leon, o-oh!” you hum, nibbling on the lower lip and arching, letting more noises when his dick hits your sweet spot so sloppily and messy now, chasing his orgasm. And him circling your clit with his calloused fingertips makes your legs tremble - so close to tripping and falling flat on the floor. This makes your mind fuzzy, shoving away the fear of being pregnant. Leon is nice, right? Nice enough to push you against the cold screen of the TV, it doesn’t have its use anymore. That photo faded with the news, after all. “I love you, love you,”

Your voice comes out shaky and high-pitched now. His eyes are set on your disheveled look, with light traces of tears as you repeat the confession erratically, filling his mind with them. Making this normal, you love him, so he can allow himself to not feel so guilty, right? With a final and rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, giving chaste and soft kisses to the back of your head. Your body shudders eventually too, your walls spasm harder around him as the hard feeling of orgasm hits you, pleasant shockwaves dumb every bad thought in the head. His cock throbbed, letting a loud groan and finally spurting ropes of cum into you while keeping messy circles on your sensitive clit, prolonging your orgasm and making you more overwhelmed with every flick. The warm essence fills your hole, Leon pulls out his softening cock with a wet pop, watching how his sperm slowly oozes out from your pussy. His mind is light, the hint of booze keeps guilt from emerging.

Words of love don’t feel like a complete lie now, as pleasant memories overwhelm the bad ones. They become almost an empty spot in the back of your mind, leaving only a foggy feeling of hate and dread. And your brain is weak for the bliss, hammering every moment deep in you - craving for more. Hate won’t bring you out of this, maybe affection will. Your hand grips weakly his wrist, you won’t be able to bear the loneliness after sex tonight.

“Don’t leave me” Your mouth is quicker than your mind, not processing anything right now. Leon breaks out in a weak smile, but his gaze isn’t capable of keeping eye contact right now. Still, he scoops you in his arms without a second thought. Remaining silent, feeling your weak body in his hold he can’t help but pepper chaste kisses on your forehead. Trying to prolong the sweet and guiltless moment for you both.

You should have known better than to accept that date with him.