#i just don't think he'd be all that interested in watching anything like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sukunasun · 2 days ago

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I hope this ask finds you well! I simply MUST tell you about my latest Nanami fantasy. Feel free to ignore lol

So I've been obsessed with your Professor Nanami thoughts, I've always had little fantasies about him like that, but recently I thought of a combination between your Professor Nanami and the BEAUTIFUL chubby fem reader x Nanami fic you wrote.

I hate to take up your time but I simply must indulge in the thought. I imagine Professor Nanami, tall and awkward, stern and often seen as rude, falling madly infatiated with the new chubby biology professor that has joined his same university. They rarely cross paths, but when they do, he feels like a lovesick fool watching her go across the courtyard swiftly, shifting through documents, barely paying attention to the world around her. He wants to talk to her, woo her, pick at her brain and hear her ramble about her passion for her teaching subject. He wishes he still had that passion for teaching, wasn't dulled by the lack of interest in his students (Itadori is one of the few who brings his passion back every time he receives an update email).

But like I said, he's awkward, and he's a die hard romantic so he wishes they had a kind of "meet cute" encounter where she drops her papers and he helps pick them up, introducing himself, inviting her out to coffee. He feels silly when he imagines all the scenarios he could officially meet her, get her name from her own mouth instead of the university faculty index online. He just wants a chance to know her, learn about her, see her as more than a bubbly professor who is way out of his league.

Of course his thoughts don't stay pure. He often thinks of her late at night, in his office or his bed, finishing paperwork and imagining her taking his fountain pen away, coaxing him to relax with a neck massage, pressing her breasts into the back of his head. He imagines taking her on his desk, or a fancy hotel after a romantic dinner, something hot and wild or passionate and soothing. It's the only way he can get off nowadays, thinking about her in all the ways he wishes he could.

Maybe Geto and Gojo encourage him to get out of his comfort zone and ask her on a date. Maybe they do have a meet cute encounter and fall in love instantly. Maybe he's too timid around her and continues to pine in silence. Regardless, just the thought of her makes his stomach flip in the most delicious way, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to recover.

Alrighty, I'm all done lol. Thank you for your time and I hope you have the loveliest day. Your writing is always fantastic and inspires me endlessly, so I hope you're doing well 💕

thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! i loved loved loved reading this !! i'm so happy he's gotten so much appreciation, im sure he'd find it all very overwhelming and unnecessary, but it'll encourage him to give himself a chance for once.

because nanami's more than his semblance and stature. they say he's an awkward, rude man who's out to make his student's social lives just as non-existent. as. yuuji puts it, "he added an extra assignment for the week, now i have to cancel my date, i'm gonna be alone forever!"

and kusakabe snorts when you bring him up. "nanami kento? that guy only cares about work, he doesn't talk to women let alone go on dates,"

"must be one of those aloof and stoic types—" higuruma is at least observational in his judgement "—i don't know of his preferences, but in terms of dating...he'd likely be attracted to someone similar." he shrugs from behind his desk, stacks of files and paperwork piled high. his words could mean anything but higuruma rarely makes vague, blanket statements. never the kind to shy away from specifics and specific connotations.

thinking about it now. you and nanami would be equals in regards to intelligence. a pair of smart and capable people leading their fields. although when it comes to appearances, two people couldn't be more different. where he is tall and muscular, with thick forearms and a chest sturdy as a brick wall, you are rounded and curvy beneath your lab coat.

still, the general consensus on his not-so-friendly disposition wasn't enough to dissuade you, there's always a possibility he'd be kind as he is smart. the thought of running into professor nanami was a situation most unprepared for. what does one do when faced with the most unattainable man on campus. his accolades and accomplishments aside, it is clear he isn't pursuing a relationship. at least not in the way he's pursued knowledge and truth all this while.

it has never been more difficult to cross paths given that STEM and econs buildings were a distance apart. there hadn't been an overlap in students or staff meetings or social circles either, as if he were on a totally different side of the world. sometimes you notice him and it makes your heart flutter. a rare sighting of the creature of your affections standing by the window of his office but turning away the second he sees you, pulling the curtains shut. other times, he sits by the bench near the park, leg crossed over his knee as he balances papers on his thigh. even when deep into grading papers, he senses your presence walking by and leaves in an instant. his feet moving at a brisk pace, carrying an old messenger bag with him. as if he's doing it all on purpose, going out of his way to avoid you.

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

after nanami's dashed and made it to the safety of his office, he's left peeking through the small sliver of light from his curtains, watching you sigh and take a seat where he'd been.

"maah...he's staring again," gojo's voice is a grating sound to nanami's ears. always a mocking, teasing lilt heard from behind him. he's about to stop them from entering because they're always meddling at the wrong time but feels the weight of gojo's arm slinging over his shoulder. ah. too late.

geto laughs right in his face before shaking his head and tutting, "our kouhai hasn't learned a thing!"

"i don't know what you're talking about," nanami makes his defense. looking down at his loafers, they're all scuffed from years of wear, but he likes that the leather has darkened, the soles are still intact, and it has taken shape to his feet perfectly. kinda like how his two seniors are just as familiar. always circling and hovering around him, ready to strike with a jab or a hard truth. gojo and geto are terrible at subtlety as they are at being his wingmen.

"still wallowing?" gojo hums, his index finger coming up to nanami's cheek and poking the skin incessantly. "by the way you should really start using a toner—"

"stop it—" nanami swats his hand away, clicking his teeth "—i'm not wallowing." he sounds so juvenile like this, only with these two does he lose all reputation. turning back into that annoyed and moody teen with acne and a fringe, cooped up in a library and getting addicted to caffeine.

geto snorts, "you've made it your whole identity, 'woe is me, i'm so awkward and ugly and no one will ever put up with me'," he believes nanami's become attached to self-pity and judging by how well he's able to twist the knife with people, nanami isn't adamant on refuting his claim.

instead, he scoffs, "i never said i was ugly—" that he knows is an overstatement, but picking out the 'wrong' thing, the flaw in geto's argument helps to deflect from the unflattering truth. no one will ever put up with me. and geto knows nanami's swerving around because he gives him an unimpressed look, 'that's beside the point,' he'd say.

nanami tries to explain, "—it's always best to be honest and fair when making judgements of oneself." if that were the case, he'd remind himself of all the times he's chickened out of speaking to you. choosing to hide in the dark of his office to calm his beating heart at being caught red-handed or dashing away when you found him grading papers outside. 'coward' says the voice in his head. he ignores it for now.

"aw man he's being self-deprecating again, guru-chan do something!" satoru sighs, shaking his head as if disappointed, then hugs nanami. not a full teddy bear hug, but he squeezes nanami a centimetre closer with his slung arm, and it feels the same as being lit on fire. uncomfortable and definitely not helpful for the situation he's in right now.

suguru saves him at least by pushing satoru's arm away. "c'mon 'ken, you've been pining over her for months, what do you have to lose?" he counters and nanami doesn't know if he's more scared of being denied what he wants most or having to lose it all. weighing out the risks comes naturally to him but backing it up with indefatigable proof is unfortunately not a power he hones.

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

you're having lunch with higuruma today. just lunch. a meal shared between two colleagues and nothing more—

—is what nanami tells himself when he spots the two of you by the newly opened cafe near campus. the scene is so picturesque as if taken from a painting. you sit by a window, sunlight pouring in and across your features, beaming rays of light decorating you in gold and amber. he's picked a few cues from the man opposite you, one being that whatever's going on between you two is beyond platonic intent.

which he can't fault the lawyer for. no man would pass up the opportunity for something more. who wouldn't fall within the first second of laying eyes on you? the way nanami did. he remembers your shiny hair blowing in the wind when rushing to and from lecture halls, the soft plumpness of your cheeks rising with every smile, a torch of passion lit in your eyes when hearing you talk about research. with interest and a warm, almost fond curiosity.

this is to say that nanami isn't innocent in his own intentions with you. berating himself is part of romance too. 'she's not a prize to be won. she's a woman. brilliant and beautiful,' he thinks it'll be easier to succumb to his insecurities, tell himself he's unworthy, but all he feels is a twisted guilt. the same guilt that curls and winds up his spine, clutching at his chest, pooling in his stomach as he watches the higuruma move across the table to caress a finger over your cheek. seemingly to brush away what little crumbs have peppered there.

nanami clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white and a vein bulges. so it's like that. he hates jumping to conclusions. it's uncharacteristic for him to make accusations and form baseless hypotheses. but why. why such a feeling. all because this man has acquired your favour? who is he to have earned the luxury of touching you so freely? when nanami wants and has wanted for more than a brush of skin or a friendly introduction, for longer than a meal or seasons passed. torturously, achingly counting seconds to gaining, no, receiving that privilege. as entitled, he isn't exempt from possession. and how human too. the unfeeling and detached nanami learns he's capable of wanting something for himself.

he watches for your reaction, but when you don't push higuruma away and thank him instead, nanami believes he's lost all his appetite. pasta left untouched until clear skies turn as grey and gloomy as his mood for the rest of the day.

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

he's in a rush tonight. no—a rut sounds more fitting.

after he's failed half his class on their weekly assignment and dealt with the pushback, he's about ready to explode from the stress. nothing seems to be going right. an unappetizing lunch, a disinterested batch of students, and he's three days behind schedule on that journal article. staring at his three-monitor setup and coming up blank on his daily writing. he can't seem to force his fingers to tap away at the keys, but they reach toward the whiskey bottle with ease.

nanami's a big believer in moderation but'll bend his rules again as he resigns himself to the guilty pleasures of fantasy and fleeting missives. he pours himself a glass, then another, and by the time he downs the fourth, his cheeks pink and heat up. clouding his mind and buzzing all over his skin soothingly. the alcohol is not nearly enough for him to pass out drunk, but it does release some tension in his muscles.

all the nerves and irritation slip away as he reaches straight for his trousers, unbuckling himself free with a one-handed manoeuvre. he's been jerking off every night now, grown accustomed to routine, it doesn't take long for him to leak through his boxers the moment he closes his eyes shut and thinks of you. his hard dick springs free and his balls ache for release. he tugs on them and groans when the sensation throbs up his shaft. the skin hot and glistening from his precum dribbling down. twitching head begging for heat, pressure, and suction.

he's got an array of scenes to choose from. making love after a long day. making love on your wedding night. making love in general. nanami loves a soft woman, and no one knows what he's really like when in private. strict professor by day, introverted and nerdy, who most believe is still a virgin. it's only here that he doesn't fumble and fidget with nerves. tonight he feels no remorse for imaging the way his cock looks slapping against your cheek, making you gag on it as you slobber drool and his mess down your chin. nanami almost feels bad, might curse himself for picturing a sweetheart like you on your knees, his fist wrapped around your hair so tight while you look up at him, eager to please.

used to picturing slow, sensuous kisses and even slower thrusts into you, he now opts for something dirtier to dismiss the scene he saw earlier today. 'you're jealous' the thought whispers through the fog and this time, he can't ignore it.

he fists his shaft hoping to imitate the feeling of your wet heat cling to him like a vice. he curls around you just as tightly. his cock fitting snugly, almost too big to take within your depths. you'll tell him just as much because he likes the praise. academic success has done little for his vanity, but hearing your sighing lamentations, sobbing ovations on his sheer size would make him feel just that bit better about himself.

but forget his self-esteem, this is purely for your pleasure. he wouldn't want you feeling anything but full and split open on his dick. he's tall and broad and has come a long way since he was lanky and swimming in his slacks. has an idea of just how much weight, how much pressure is befitting to trap you beneath him. don't be fooled by his quiet demeanor, nanami is always down to give you a good time. setting those prescription glasses to the side and gets to work. laying you back and propped comfortably, curves cushioned by pillows. with legs spread and a view to die for, nanami gets himself into position and eats you out like a meal to be savoured. taking his time, making you edge, urged only by your cries and moans.

he wouldn't mind if you caged him in, legs putting him in a headlock, but he prefers to have you spread-eagled and bucking for more. clit so sensitive as he nibbles and sucks on it, gently at first, like he's testing the waters, picking up cues and filing them away for future reference. he loves to learn and he's quick at it too. getting so good at it he's able to have you trembling and twitching for hours, coming undone with just his mouth and nothing more.

he pumps his fist and moans shamelessly because he's allowed this one thing. here in private, he lets out groans and grunts held under crumbling restraint, rambling on, "mine, mine, mine..." his legs spread, and his thighs clench when he's close to his climax. imagining the sounds you'd make, light and airy, deep and guttural, moaning his name and screaming for more. the beautiful professor below him taking every inch that slips past the channel of his slippery, rough fingers.

wet and heated, the head of his cock bobs and his thumb presses down right at the sensitive tip while his other hand grips the base tightly with sweet pressure, just like how you'd clench down on him. "i didn't think you'd feel so good 'ken," he hears it in your voice and it makes him smile just a little. call it arrogance but he knows he'll pleasure you just right. his beautiful professor looking shocked and surprised that he's no longer a man who cowers and runs away but one who takes want he wants instead.

his cheeks get hot and so do his ears, clenching his eyes shut and immersing himself fully. tipping his head back and cursing, "fuck—" he grits out desperate and dying to bounce you atop him, coiled around you like a snake, he'd love the weight, the feel, so soft, so full.

tongue going dry with every heaving breath, nanami sees a view of your face twisting in pleasure, gasping and shaking all over. your pretty lips gaping in a perfect o-shape as your eyes roll back and your fingernails rake down his chiselled back, just to hold on, just to ride out the immense wave of pleasure. shlick. shlick. shlick. he mimics thrusting into you on the comedown before he spills into his hand. white painting his skin and most of his office floor.

he sits back and sighs, his cock still leaking cum and he thinks he hates himself. still, it's only when he instinctively reaches for the neatly folded handkerchiefs in another drawer does he begin to contemplate his situation. "i'm done for..."

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

when the long-awaited, much-anticipated 'meet-cute' happens, it doesn't go as he'd imagined. "professor nanami! we've never actually met so i thought i'd say hi," you put on your best smile, pushing your glasses up and hoping they hide the uncertainty in your expression. you squeeze a clammy hand on your skirt to soak up as much of the moisture before holding it out. only to have him stare at you questioningly in return.

the worse part isn't the skeptical expression, or the way his eyebrows furrow, or the way his lips grow thin, as if he's confused as to why you're speaking to him. like he wouldn't waste an introduction on you of all people. this is the downside of having a crush, the inevitable letdown and rejection you feel when realizing nanami might know you exist, but he doesn't acknowledge your existence.

you've been told you're quite the personality, cute, bubbly, approachable. so why the hell won't he just talk to you! it's not like you did anything wrong and you hate being made to feel stupid. you're a professor in your own right, and he's just staring like you were less than. not even worth a hello. so you laugh it off, "well, see you!" turning around and berating yourself for even trying. this man was just as they said—detached and cold fucking hearted.

"w-wait!" his hand reaches out to catch your arm. the sudden lunge almost toppling him over and falling atop you. "forgive me, it seems i was stunned." he swallows.

"stunned?" you ask, suddenly curious.

with his eyes blinking behind his glasses, nanami moves to push them back from slipping down that bridge of his nose. he looks so endearing, it instantly makes you smile. "yes, well, you...you're talking. to me." he lets you go after his hand has overstayed it's welcome around your bicep, pulling back towards the front of his sweater, brushing it off for nonexistent lint. (of course not, nanami would be the kind to steam and brush it clean after every wash)

"that is true yes," you reply, eyes crinkling at the berth of your smile, wide enough, bright enough, infectious in nature. so much so he gives you one in return. just the smallest tilt of his own lips. in a second his face goes from night to day. almost like the clouds that part then, crepuscular rays shining upon his golden hair and lashes.

after a few seconds, he seems to have calmed, but his heartbeat hammers the same, you know this because his face turns pink. "i'd like to...talk to you." he says, and you take him up on that request.

#ask #anon #sunpiece #saturated #nanami kento #nanami x chubby reader #jjk au

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lorbanery · 1 day ago

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This is what I find so fascinating and baffling about Smallville.

I watched the first couple of seasons when they originally aired, came back to it many years later, never quite managed to get past season 5 or 6 out of frustration.

I and, it would seem, the vast majority of the fandom, came out of however far we got in the series thinking, "Wow Lex was trying to be so good and he was treated so badly, Jonathan Kent is an asshole actually and turned his son into a jerk and I can't believe this show wants me to think Clark and Jonathan are such good people and Lex is inherently evil."

It wasn't until just this past year that I found out that, actually, the intention was that the way Jonathan treated Lex and the way he influenced Clark were, in part, why Lex turned out the way he did. That a little compassion from the Kent men could have saved him.

I find this interesting because they so clearly failed at delivering that message.

I'm sure someone could analyze the actually storytelling to explain why it failed so spectacularly, but I believe the main problem was the medium.

"Lex Luthor could have been turned from the path to supervillainy if he'd just experienced the love and respect of a father figure" and "Maybe Jonathan Kent wasn't the saint that Clark paints him to be" is the kind of What If story that would have been PERFECT for a comic book storyline. A handful of issues of a limited Jonathan Kent title that focuses on Jonathan, explores this idea of a man so scared of losing his child that he occasionally veers off into paranoia and reactionary thinking that makes him treat other people as enemies or less important than his family. Bringing a young Lex to Smallville briefly and juxtaposing the way he interacts with Clark with the way he interacts with Lex and directly foreshadowing the way those treatments will shape the men Clark and Lex will grow up to be. Maybe even making a really fine point about the fact that, even though they occasionally clash, Clark still has a loving, supportive, protective parent in his father, while Lex is so desperate for one because he has no one. Directly comparing the blind distrust Jonathan has for Lex's motivations to the lack of trust Lionel has for Lex's capabilities even by just mirroring dialogue — maybe even having Clark mirror it too near the end.

But the reason that would work so well in comic form is because this is the kind of storyline you do when you're playing around with canon. Which you can only do when you have a canon to play around with.

I mean think about it. If they had done an entire series that was just Lana and Clark's adventures tooling around Metropolis while under the influence of the red kryptonite, but without establishing anything about the kryptonite at all, people would have also gotten the wrong idea. They'd just be like "wow Lana and Clark are assholes, they just party all the time and start fights with people for no reason, it's like these people don't even understand these characters."

That's basically what happened here. Smallville was a completely new canon, the only things most people knew about it going in were that Clark would eventually become Superman, the goodest superhero in the world, who loves his perfect sainted parents, and Lex eventually becomes his arch-nemesis.

With just that framework, it's no wonder that we all watched Jonathan shout over and over again about how Lex is a Luthor, you can't trust him! when Lex had done literally nothing and thought, "I can't believe this show wants me to think this asshole is the goodguy."

And going even further, the result is an implication that the actual reasons Lex became evil were:

Extreme child abuse

Psychosis

Being susceptible to bullying and manipulation

Using what money, power, and influence he has to fuck over objectively terrible people to protect the good people in his life, even when those good people treat him like shit half the time

Having unhealthy coping mechanisms for being treated like shit

Not liking being lied to

Was it the show's intention to imply that any of these were contributing factors? I couldn't say. But when I watch Smallville? That's the message I get. And that's, from what I've seen, why so much of the fandom comes out of it as full-fledged members of the Lex Didn't Deserve That and Jonathan Kent Hate Clubs.

I write this with the full acknowledgement that I'm only about a third of the way through the series, but the thing that is so frustrating about the direction Smallville has taken Lex is that there was so much potential (and likely even the intention) to take Smallville Lex's story in one of two pretty interesting directions: either he and Clark broadly have the same goal (help humanity) but fundamentally disagree on how to accomplish it to the point that it leads to a complete breakdown in their relationship (the Magneto storyline); or he has good intentions but compromises a little here and a little there, until he takes so many steps down a path he didn't intend to tread that he's eventually so many miles from the moral ground he started on that he's completely crossed to the other side (the Anakin storyline). Both of these are interesting, complex character journeys that would allow the audience to sympathize with Lex up to a point, while also empathizing with Clark's emotional turmoil at having to let go of his former friend who has slowly morphed into someone unrecognizable.

But bewilderingly, they threw both of those out and went in a third direction: Lex is a fundamentally good, decent, compassionate person who has been pushing back against and even outright rejecting his father's cruel and corrupt methods since childhood, and is driven by a genuine desire to help those around him and make the world a fairer place, and it doesn't affect how people view or treat him at all. Everyone is determined to ascribe nefarious ulterior motives to everything he does simply because he's a Luther. He was always going to be Clark's enemy because from day one the Kents decided he could only be Clark's enemy*. Of course he's going to end up adopting the ways of his father because that's what everyone thinks he is anyway. In other words, he got the Elphaba storyline.

And I find that baffling because that storyline is extremely sympathetic. Again, I have two-thirds of this series to go, so it very well could surprise me, but I honestly don't know what it could do at this point to make me lose sympathy for Lex or feel like whatever he does is something Clark didn't bring on himself. Clark constantly openly doubts Lex's motives, and continually harangues him for his mistakes (real or imagined) even after Lex owns them, apologizes for them, and attempts to make amends for them. But Clark is the one I'm supposed to be rooting for? He's supposed to be the good guy?

I guess I just don't understand why you would set up two perfectly good villain origin storylines, and then abandon them for one that makes your so-called hero look like a total asshole.

*There's a whole other essay I won't get into here about Jonathan Kent's paranoia in particular, and the way it destroys Clark's ability to trust by assigning nefarious intentions to innocuous actions, and the way it damages Clark's fundamental goodness by teaching him that using his powers to help and protect people is a secondary goal to his primary purpose, which is to protect himself and his secret at all costs. That man is not the moral or ethical north star Smallville seems to think he is.

#smallville

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teddybeartoji · 3 months ago

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hm would sae entertain my twitch streamer dreams..

#mmmmm would he.... watch them in secret................#though i am still thinking abt us being roomies lmao #i just don't think he'd be all that interested in watching anything like that #at first at least.............#anyway i did have a silly thought abt him catching me talking abt himasghdgaghdsghdhga #WELL NOT ON PURPOSEEE #perhaps the Chat asks something i would still try to steer away from the convo they don't need to know about . him #whatever whatever it's stupid #misae

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tommysversion · 26 days ago

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Forbidden Fruit [Part 1] - Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

Summary: he's been watching you for longer than he can remember, thinking he's too old for you, too dangerous. It's easier to keep people at arm's length, and he isn't the roughened lover he used to be. Turns out you don't care much for what he used to be.

Note: I got this out before episode two dropped. There are no spoilers here, just old man Joel being loved.

Word Count: 3.8k. || Part Two Here

- x. -

Joel knows that deep down, he's not the good guy that he tries to be in Jackson. That no amount of hard work and somewhat begrudging neighbourly behaviour will truly ever mask what he really is.

He does a damn good job hiding it, though. Looks almost unassuming with his greying curls, the crows feet forming round his eyes, the glasses he wears more often than not.

Then there's you. God knows how much younger than him - does it really matter, when he's pushing sixty and you're clearly not - and full of life.

He sees you around and just one look at you gets him half hard; you don't even have to fucking do anything, just be wandering past and give him a friendly wave, a half smile.

He finds his eyes glued to your ass more often than not, given your standard attire of a pastel plaid shirt and jeans does nothing to hide your figure. He feels like a dirty old man each and every fucking time, but he can't help it. Especially when you wander past to get ready for a patrol, an honest to god cowboy hat perched on your head, a lasso and a gun on your hip.

It makes some deep buried dark and depraved part of him wish he was still the cocky, confident bastard he once was. The kind who would have no problem whatsoever with talking to you and getting exactly what he wanted. Age has made him hesitate, though, and so he sort of just contends himself with trying to be as subtle as possible with his stares.

He'd be lying if he said he thought of anything else when he fucked his own hand each night, though.

Imagining you. How you might look spread out beneath him. On top of him. How you might sound with his name on your stupidly pouty lips, which he absolutely hasn't made note of or anything.

Joel likes to think he's completely subtle in his interest in you, thinks he might just be burning up inside with his own desires and need, until Tommy calls him the fuck out for it one night.

They're in the bar long after closing time, just the two of them, perks of Tommy being on the governing council, Joel guesses, and two or three glasses of whiskey deep.

"Don't know why you don't just go after her, y'know." Tommy takes a long sip of his drink. Gives Joel a smirk that he never thought he'd see again, given his younger brother is all settled down now, married with a kid and whatnot.

"You know damn well why not." Joel snipes back, refills his glass with a narrowed gaze. "'M too old and I'm too fuckin' dangerous. She'd probably break or something."

Tommy just laughs. But it's more like his old laugh. The slightly dark sound that Joel hasn't heard in years that makes him goddamn certain his brother knows something he doesn't.

"What?"

"Nothin'," Tommy says, tossing another cube of ice into his glass, swirls it around. "Don't blame you for lookin'. Girl's got a sweet ass, and damn, she can ride, too."

There's that tone again, the one that says he definitely knows something. More than knows something. So Joel gives him that look he does that always inevitably has Tommy spilling the beans.

"And how d'you know the girl can ride, huh?"

Tommy snorts, drags a hand through his messy black curls.

"Wasn't always with Maria, ya know. Back when I first came to Jackson... girl can handle her way around a saddle. Ain't half as cocky when she was gushin' all over my cock in a hay bale. Tell y'somethin, never seen a prettier sight than a cockdrunk woman."

He downs the rest of his drink before he shoots Joel a crooked grin.

"And trust me on this one too - she loves her an older man."

Joel doesn't want details. Doesn't care much about something that happened six or so years ago.

What he does take from the conversation stays worked into his head over the next few days. He's just thinking he might make some excuse to leave his office early, to go home so he can either drink himself senseless or fuck his own fist until he has some semblance of self control again.

He's still debating which it'll be when someone knocks on his office door; he looks up, about to tell whoever it is to fuck off, and instead stops. Because there you fucking are, your hair pulled off your face, still windswept. Dressed in a pastel purple and blue plaid shirt, another pair of jeans that should be fucking outlawed and worn cowboy boots.

“Hey, Joel.”

Vaguely, he wonders if this is the first time he’s actually registered you saying his name; he likes the way it sounds in your voice.

“Hey. What can I do for you?” He can’t help but sense some sort of mischief, wonders whether Tommy has decided to interfere, again, in something he has no business in.

“Oh, uh, Tommy said you were the one to go to if the barn door got caught again?”

Joel registers what you’re saying, can’t help but listen to the way his brother’s name sounds in your mouth, as if he’s looking to see if there’s any hint of any sort of affection in it, but he finds none.

He also thinks his goddamn brother is full of shit, because he knows damn well that Tommy is just as capable of fixing the stupid barn door. But Joel is nothing if not an opportunist, and he sees exactly what’s being offered here – an opportunity.

So he gets up out of his chair, pockets his glasses, and gives you a nod.

“Sure. Let’s go get that fixed up before dark.”

- X -

You’re aware of the sheer size of the man beside you as you help him lift the barn door back onto the track it usually slides in. He must be at least sixty, and yet he’s so big and broad that it doesn’t quite show. That doesn’t mean you’re oblivious to the greying curls, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You’re not blind. Maybe you’re just fucked up, because you’ve always preferred older men, at least, since the outbreak.

Maybe it’s some convoluted thought that someone older might be able to keep you safe. As if you aren’t a damn good shot yourself. As if you aren’t entirely capable of keeping yourself safe.

You haven’t been as oblivious to his stares as he thinks. No, Joel Miller is not a subtle man, not anymore. Never has been.

That, and you’ve seen a similar look on his brother’s face, once upon a time. The kind of look that says they want to devour you. To do things to you that’ll make your toes curl.

Like you haven’t been watching Joel since he first set foot in Jackson. Figured maybe you were too young, too out of range of his usual type, whatever the fuck that was.

And then you’d noticed him watching you, dared to perhaps hope, but never make the first move. Until now.

“Thanks for the help,” you say as you test the door, pull it open and closed to make sure it isn’t stuck again.

“’S fine,” Joel answers, shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Walk you home?” You offer, and the hint of a smile curves his mouth.

“Don’t know that I’m the one who needs a chaperone to walk round after dark.”

You laugh lightly as he falls into step with you regardless.

“Ah, Joel, nobody would be stupid enough to lay a hand on me.”

You don’t entirely believe that, but confidence is certainly part of it, and the last thing you want is for him to think you’re someone weak and scared.

“Why, you got some scary ass husband or somethin’ I don’t know about?” Joel asks, and you can hear the hint of jealousy in his tone, even if he thinks you won’t; it lights up something in your belly that trails all the way down to your core.

“Pff, no. No husband. No boyfriend. Just me, and apparently I’m scary enough.”

You give him time to take all that in, but that means you arrive at his house far too soon with very little progression in conversation. You’re almost feeling disappointed when he speaks again.

“Comin’ in for a drink?”

Joel isn’t sure where that confidence came from. Maybe the way you’ve confirmed there’s no significant other in your life. The almost flirty way you’ve spoken to him. The way you had seemingly no issue getting up in his space as you fixed the barn door.

He notices, too, the way your eyes flicker with something like triumph at the offer, before you just nod, follow him up the steps and into the house.

- X -

Joel watches the way your lips curve around the glass tumbler, and he really thinks he should be more focused on his own liquor consumption at his age more than the way it looks, but he can’t help it.

Unbidden, his mind gives him a picture of your lips wrapped around something else entirely, and for the first time since Tommy shared his little bit of “wisdom” about you the other night, he resents his brother for it. Because of fucking course his goddamn brother would have had the balls to just make a move. So why doesn’t he?

As he’s pondering this, he’s oblivious to your gaze, focused on him over the rim of your glass. They’re so alike, and yet so different, the Miller brothers. You haven’t quite worked out what makes Joel tick yet, can sense a sort of brooding, shut off darkness in him that you aren’t entirely certain you’d like to see unleashed.

What you do know, though, is that you’ve caught his eyes on you more than once. That you want him, even if it’s only for one night, that you don’t care if he shreds your heart to pieces after, so long as you get one single night where you can see what it’s like to be his.

And so while he’s still lost in thought, you down the rest of your drink and cross from your chair to his, straddle his lap and tap him lightly on the cheek.

“Hey, still with me?”

Not a lot takes Joel by surprise; he wasn’t sure what to expect when you moved, but to find you in his lap is definitely unexpected. He puts his half-finished drink to the side and just looks at you for a second, tries to will his cock into behaving, but it’s too late, he’s already hard as fuck, uncomfortable in his jeans with you pressed against him, and you both know it.

“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” He manages to get out, because he’s got to be sure you’re not just fucking with him, or making some poor decision fuelled by liquor, even though he doubts the single drink has even touched the sides.

“What’s it look like?” You can feel how hard he is, can’t help but rock into him slightly, taunting, teasing, because God forbid you actually want this.

“Makin’ a real poor decision?” Joel regrets saying it as soon as he does so, and it shows on his face; luckily you ignore him.

“You want me to stop?” you ask instead, your hands at the buttons of the flannel shirt he always wears, a well loved dark green thing that you think sets off the olive tones to his skin perfectly.

He shakes his head so fast he almost feels dizzy, because there’s no way in hell he wants you to stop, but he wants you to understand what you might be getting yourself into.

“Fuck, no,” he almost growls it out, leans in to press a kiss to your bare collarbone where your shirt has fallen. “More just… I'm an old man, darlin', but I've never been good at bein' gentle."

You just laugh, because you don’t want gentle. You don’t want young and sweet and inexperienced. You want whatever the hell is lurking behind his tired gaze.

Still, he doesn’t move until you lean in first, press those pouting lips against his, part them so he can taste liquor and strawberries on your tongue. It’s not until you grind down against him again and moan into his mouth that he reacts.

Then whatever control he has left (which isn’t much) snaps, his hands pushing up your shirt; glad he had the foresight to build a fire when you got in, because the last thing he wants is you shivering for any reason that isn't good, isn't at his hands.

You figure he isn't moving fast enough, help him shed your layers of clothing one by one until you're in his lap in just your emerald green panties, and fuck if Joel doesn't think the colour looks good on you.

His hands are wandering, up from your hips, slowly, cupping your tits and rubbing his roughened thumbs across your peaked nipples. You almost wish you could get him naked, but the most he'll allow is a few buttons of his shirt undone. Not that you're about to complain, so full of want for him that you'll take whatever he gives you.

You can feel the fabric of your panties getting damper with every hungry, open mouthed kiss, your little moans muffled as he slowly draws circles with his thumbs around your nipples, humming when he feels you react.

"Sensitive, huh?" His dark eyes stay fixed on yours as he pinches your nipples gently, making your back arch slightly. "Yeah you are, aren't you, sweetheart?"

You just nod, grinding yourself down against the thick length of him, your hands finding his belt buckle.

He doesn't stop you, too preoccupied with playing with your tits, the way you lean into his touch. Your hand unzips his jeans, frees his cock from the too tight confines, and slowly strokes, drawing a low groan from his chest.

Fuck, but you know what you're doing, slow practised strokes from base to tip, gentle twists of your wrist when you reach the thick head of him, spreading the precum that drips heavily along his length.

"Fuck, sweetheart, don't make me cum before I've got you there-" he warns, and you laugh, not at him, but because you're so fucking pleased that you're having that much of an effect on him.

He shuts you up effectively though, slides one rough hand into your panties and almost immediately finds your swollen clit, rubs circles on it with his thumb, smirking at how soaked he finds you.

"Christ. Don't even need t'get you ready for me, do I?"

You shake your head, but he does it anyway; nobody can say he isn't merciful, Joel thinks, as he slides his index and middle finger into your wet heat, drawing a filthy sound from you as he curls them deep.

He kisses you again, rough and needy, thinks about how if he was five, ten years younger he'd pick you up, carry you to the nearest horizontal surface and fuck you into it. The thought makes his cock throb painfully, but even this is enough, having you in his lap, writhing on his fingers...

You're aware of his mouth on you; on your throat, your collarbones, your nipples, then he moves his fingers a little more and you're aware of nothing beyond your own pleasure, your cunt weeping onto the thick digits as he continues to move them, not stopping until he's absolutely certain you're through it.

"So fuckin' pretty for me, baby. You want to come sit on my cock now?"

Slowly, slowly, he slides his fingers out, enjoys the dazed look on your face as you nod; your ruined panties are dragged down, tossed aside, then you're there, intimately close as he lines himself up, catches the tip of his cock at your soaked entrance.

He lets you sink down onto him with little to no guidance; groans when your hips meet far sooner than he expected.

"Fuck, there's a good girl-"

You make a sound of assent, wriggle in his lap to get comfortable, only serving to make his cock twitch inside you and drag another pretty little sound out.

"You like how it feels?" He knows you do, can tell by the way your pussy tightens around him, trying to pull him in deeper, but he wants to hear you say it, almost needs the ego boost.

"Y-yeah," you breathe out, then, "Joel-"

His name is drawn out, a half plea for something that he isn't quite sure about.

"What d'you need, honey?"

"Need you to move," your voice is almost demanding, somewhere between pleading and insistent, but you'll get what you want regardless.

Joel keeps his hands on your hips, giving you some semblance of control still, but he starts to move, slowly rocking his hips up as you rest your forehead against his.

So maybe it's not what he first pictured, not what he'd have done to you ten years ago, but it doesn't quite matter to him, not when he can feel how wet and tight you are around him, hear every single pathetic little noise you make for him.

Your fingers drag through greying curls, tugging lightly; you're rewarded with another low groan, more like a growl, as his hips snap upwards sharply against yours. You don't get to savour that victory, too preoccupied by the suddenly rougher pace.

"Fuck, Joel-" You gasp and he laughs, tightens his grip on your ass to bounce you on his cock just that little bit harder, faster, hitting all the right places inside.

"That's it, good girl," he presses greedy, open mouthed kisses to your throat, keeping up the pace, feeling you tightening around him and knowing without a doubt that you're close already, so worked up for him that tipping you over the edge will be almost easy.

"Such a tight, sweet little cunt, baby, made to take my cock, weren't you?" The filthy words pour out before he can stop them, but you're responsive to those, too, clinging to him, moaning as his cock hits your sweet spot again and again, getting you closer; you try to hold it off, don't want this to be over yet. But God if it isn't difficult.

Joel can feel you trying not to cum, can feel you holding yourself back.

"C'mon, sweetheart, go ahead and cum for me. Y'really think this is gonna be the only time I give you my cock, sweet girl? Fuck, gonna keep this pretty pussy full of me til you get sick of it."

You gasp a moan, because there's no way in hell you could ever get tired of this, of the hint of roughness and the burning passion with which he handles you.

Regardless, once he gives you that permission, even though you didn't need it, your resolve breaks; he presses in deep, grinds his hips against yours so the coarse curls at the base of him brush your over-sensitive clit, and then you're gone, spots in your vision as you cling to him, your cunt fluttering and throbbing around the thick cock splitting you open as your release drips down him, soaking his lap.

Joel groans, almost cums right there, because he can count on both hands and feet how long it's been since he made a woman cum so hard, felt a pussy spasm around his cock and gush fluids into his lap. Fuck, if he doesn't love it.

"Not gonna last much longer, sweetheart," he warns, voice low and rough as he rubs circles on your back, trying to get you through it whilst holding back his own release.

"Please-" Your voice is hoarse, eyes wide and pleading as you look at him, not bothering to finish your sentence and instead leaning in to kiss him.

It's the kiss that pushes him over the edge; years of rough, emotionless encounters, against walls. Bent over surfaces. And here you are, younger than him, softer somehow, kissing him like he's someone good and deserving.

He knows he should pull out of you but it's too late, his cock aches and twitches inside you as his release fills your still fluttering cunt, breaking the kiss only so he can rest his head on your shoulder and try to breathe.

Then your hands are in his hair again, stroking through the soft curls, getting him through the aftermath of his climax with the same gentle touch he gave you.

"Joel," you whisper his name and this time it's not a plea, not an impassioned moan, just your voice being gentle as you continue to stroke his hair.

"Hm?" He's content to just stay like this, actually, even if his joints are starting to protest. He'll deal with that later for another five, ten, fifteen minutes of this with you.

"You don't fuck like an old man." Your voice is soft. Sleepy. Like he's fucked any fire inside you out of you, lulled you into a sense of safety.

Joel can't help it. He laughs, a proper laugh that barely anyone gets out of him these days.

"Guess not, huh."

He feels his softening cock slip out of you, wraps his arms around you and tucks you against his chest.

"Can we do this again?" You dare to ask, because you're feeling sleepy and stupid and high on him, on the feeling of his seed slowly dripping down your thighs as he presses little kisses to your head.

Joel looks down at you for a moment, understands you don't mean right now, but in a sort of ambiguous future way.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Whenever you want. You want a blanket or something?"

Because inexplicably he's worried that you might be cold, as if he's only been watching you to think with his cock and doesn't actually, possibly, maybe care.

You shake your head and nuzzle back into his chest.

"Can we just stay like this for a minute?" You ask instead, and Joel nods, because he really does need to catch his breath, and even if his knees are protesting, he doesn't give a damn, because you're nice and warm in his lap and you fit there just right, like you were made to fit there.

"Yeah, baby. As long as you want."

It won't occur to him until maybe a week or so later, when you're picking strawberries in the greenhouse, that that should have been the moment he realised he was a total, utter goner.

#my writing #my fics #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #x reader #hbo tlou #hbo joel miller

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lieutenantselnia · 10 months ago

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Huh okay😭😂

QUIZ: which star wars villain are you?

oh my god 💀

#I mean I do have a thing for science (including evil scientists) so I'll take it😂#I'm not even sure what my opinion on him is to be quite honest #when TBB aired I was still kinda out of the loop with SW #I still watched all of it but it just didn't leave a super significant impact on me at the time #I do think he's an interesting character & villain and actually I'd like to know more about his backstory but I don't know if I 'like' him😂#(and I guess he's kinda handsome but we're not gonna talk about that now)#tbh I think I expected him to be more evil in a way? I mean he definitely was bad but idk I somehow thought he'd be more messed up still #like when he was introduced as the evil doctor I was expecting basically space Josef Mengele in terms of fucked-up-ness #but I feel compared to that he was actually tame (I mean good for everyone especially the protagonists)#tbf that also sets the bar pretty high but I feel just like even Hemlock wasn't *that* bad #I mean he's fictional anyway which already makes him much less horrible by default but still #obvi I didn't expect them to show any graphic dissections or anything but maybe some implications at more sinister experiments #and the whole thing with conducting experiments on clones could sort of be seen as similar to the twin experiments?#plus another part of his research was also focused on children #anyway Hemlock backstory novel when? (I need to know what's up with his hand that really bugs me tbh)#I got Thrawn in second place on the quiz though so yay💙#royce hemlock #star wars

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notascreepyasyouthink · 1 year ago

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i don't wanna date somebody who needs something from me, i want somebody who chooses to be with me simply because they like me. sure, i hope the relationship is mutually beneficial, but i don't want somebody who's only in it because i have something they want and they equate that with love. i don't wanna feel used anymore. i'm so damn tired of feeling like i'm babysitting everybody when i want to be social. i'm even more tired of feeling like the only people who want to date me just want to fuck me. like what about the romantic angle? do we even get along as people outside of sex or do you just think i'm hot? i got a shit ton of issues with physical intimacy and i'm not always able to provide for other people sexually, sometimes for weeks or months at a time, and i don't want to feel bad about it anymore. i don't wanna feel like i'm obligated to have sex with people or else they'll leave me. i'm just pissed dude. it doesn't feel like people actually want to know me.

#this is exactly why cute boy in my film class is so appealing because i don't even think he likes me tbh #he's not desperate to get laid or anything. he doesn't need anything from me at all. we can just exist in each other's company and get along #we have intelligent conversation and we have soooo many common interests and i feel like he actually wants to listen to me #like he actually cares about me at least a tiny bit #he's just so nice to me and he's really friendly and he has his shit together and he seems like just a normal and chill dude #and so naturally i want him so bad #possibly my most 'just some guy' crush ever. but i like just some guy #he's hot don't get me wrong but our compatability and shared interests and experiences are sooooo attractive to me #and i wanna watch cool niche movies with him i feel like he'd actually want to sit through a movie with me and pay attention #and not just take movie nights to mean we're fucking with background noise #sometimes i just wanna watch a movie with somebody

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hencheri · 3 months ago

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— dior girl

▸ 18+ mdni.

When Park Sunghoon wants something, he gets it no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands, but he has absolutely no morals.

| pairing. designer!sunghoon x fem!reader

| warnings. dark!sunghoon (he's not a good person lol), implied legal age gap, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, mention of gain weight, manipulation, corruption, violent sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, anal play, dacryphilia, aftercare because yes sunghoon's a sadist but he still has a heart.

| wc. 7.5k

| a.n.: repost from an old blog. pls forgive me for how lengthy the smut is (or thank me)!!

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place where he can spend hours without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio, it feels like time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, or the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's working on.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of that dress. At some point, it was consuming his entire mind, the only thing he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally making it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever created. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Sunghoon is. It's going to be the design of the year—of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of it all. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Sunghoon still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Sunghoon when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking.

"Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims and Sunghoon immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Soobin. "I have someone to introduce you."

Sunghoon raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Soobin who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he never really cares about the many girls Soobin brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Sunghoon turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Soobin's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs—the one he wants and has to ruin.

Soobin introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Soobin raises his eyebrows in Sunghoon's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Soobin before glancing at Sunghoon who still hasn't looked away from you. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt as you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, so eager to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Sunghoon says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile—stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it shallow. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him, so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Soobin begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you."

You chuckle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Sunghoon as if waiting for some praises.

Sunghoon faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you sooner. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, his to kiss and fuck. His to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

"Careful," Sunghoon softly says as he catches you up before you can fall to the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost stumble. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Sunghoon looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Sunghoon knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol during your diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just a glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Sunghoon himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you noticed nothing and gulped everything down. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Sunghoon assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank...

Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Sunghoon announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?"

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them by the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Sunghoon sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper—a secret, a confession only you know. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Sunghoon will fix your mistakes.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks—he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Sunghoon as if his simple presence will make all of your problems go away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Sunghoon everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, wrinkling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Sunghoon breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days earlier when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly.

He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Sunghoon will make you walk the runway wearing his dress—the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Sunghoon softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." you begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Sunghoon wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Sunghoon," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Sunghoon purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Sunghoon stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit more loose than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock—though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before—smacked your ass hard till you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Sunghoon wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much—with all of your pathetic being—and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiples, and being the poor girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice, "how about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Sunghoon brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you, sinking in gradually as Sunghoon holds your cheeks apart.

"Feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Sunghoon.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, leaving his stinging handprint on you.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Sunghoon genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way—though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Sunghoon holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin burning after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Sunghoon. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls envelop him tightly.

He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your neck and shoves your head against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace—fucking is never soft or loving with Sunghoon, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public, and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. You've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Sunghoon whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, to be ravished and delighted to have his cock sliding against your walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head into the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Sunghoon's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and onto the bed. Your pussy swallows all of him, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You hold the bed sheets between your fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Sunghoon and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Sunghoon controls you—controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you and as he holds you by the throat, he lewdly licks the side of your face in a long stripe.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers the words to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so badly like the slut that you are.”

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy. You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud.

"Yes, want to please you, Sunghoon," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on you. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you were on him, how impossible it was for you to live without someone to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around him once again. Your hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Sunghoon lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Sunghoon slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and milky skin. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only thing remaining on him being the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction—more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Sunghoon is imposing, his cock thick enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator that has caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, your hole pathetically quivering—missing his size terribly.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart," Sunghoon instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. There's still a bit of lube left on it and around your ass. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaked from your pussy. His cock is so close to it and Sunghoon could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush down to his cock at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it—he needs it. Accuse him of having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him of everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more force. "Can you, baby?" Sunghoon asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails into the flesh of his biceps, only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Sunghoon groans at that, stuffing more of himself into you. "Good girl," he praises.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used on you. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Sunghoon can't help but love the sight, leaning in to kiss your face and collect one of your tears, tasting the saltiness of it on his tongue.

"Sunghoon!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful eyes. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks a breath through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, going down to your collarbones and pawing at your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependent on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Sunghoon because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. His finger gently circles your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all that escapes your mouth. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his shoulder blades.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place—making sure you know that he’s always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Sunghoon bottoms out. It starts to feel good for you—really good—and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fingers.

He pulls away from you, his full lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lets out a low groan, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You love to feel his pulsing veins under your fingertips.

"Sunghoon..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to smooch over your neck again as you expose it to him, his lips pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby.”

He slowly halts his hip thrusts and he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

Sunghoon raises himself up from you and gets out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Sunghoon commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Sunghoon's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Sunghoon, allowing him to stuff more of himself into your mouth. He looks down at you, watching at the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take him whole each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, "you're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said, sending vibrations throughout his entire body. He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes burning as Sunghoon fucks your throat roughly.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Sunghoon's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Sunghoon's moans and the feeling of his cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger smoothly flickering over your sensitive bud.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Sunghoon can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Sunghoon penetrates your pussy, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly it hurts. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Sunghoon suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your cunt.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your pussy clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep in you. When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering you in his cum.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made of you.

Later, Sunghoon is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his dress, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about everything that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Sunghoon.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Sunghoon knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, he'll take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his—solely and completely.

"Sunghoon?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Sunghoon was satisfied to see that his name stood out amongst everyone else's, being mentioned more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Sunghoon needed.

But every good story has an end, doesn't it?

When Sunghoon comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, the city draped in the dark, splotches of bright yellow light flashing in front of your eyes. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that happened the past weeks in your head.

It was going to happen soon or later anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Sunghoon was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with or without Sunghoon's sabotage. He did you a favour.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Sunghoon was feeding you. The bottles of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, still looking outside. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Sunghoon comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed till the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you—close all of your past wounds and create other ones. He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you—he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

#[ ★ ] dark content #— ☆ starring enhypen #w/ sunghoon !#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard hours #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon imagines

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bbokicidal · 5 months ago

Text

"What Happens When.." | [SKZ] OT8| [SEUNGMIN]

Hyunjin makes a bet that Seungmin can't satisfy his girl with just his hands - so he decides to prove him wrong. And with an audience.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Seungmin x Fem!Reader Warnings: orgasm denial, edging, lots of teasing, meandom!seungmin (kind of), fingering, spit (f receiving), masturbation (m)

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. <- And thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this while I went through my writers block rut, hahaha.

Word Count: 1.2K

"I... guess I was wrong." Hyunjin murmurs out more to himself than anyone else.

He'd been dumb enough to make a bet against the one, the only, Kim Seungmin. And the decision was dumb because he should've known better that Seungmin wouldn't back down from a challenge - especially when it had to do with you. Hyunjin wouldn't make any more bets against him in the future, that's for sure. Not after seeing the way you squirmed on your boyfriend's fingers like he was sucking the life out of you; The way you writhed against the sheets, back arching up off of the mattress and hips wriggling in a way that showed him - and everyone else in the room - that you only wanted more.

Though Hyunjin wasn't the only one so openly ogling your reactions. Some of the members had taken to glancing away either because they were too shy to stare or were too busy getting themselves off. But then there were the members who just loved to watch - those two being Jisung and Minho. While the younger of the two was watching in a more curious, excited manner with his hand down his pants tugging on his cock while it made a leaky mess in his boxers - Minho's gaze was far more... heavy. His eyes were dark, filled with lust as his head tipped down and he watched the scene play out in front of him through thick lashes. He'd restrained from touching himself at all, just a tad more resilient than his younger counterpart, but had been kind enough to himself to let his thighs fall apart. So he sat, manspreading in the chair in the corner of the room with a gaze as heavy as lead, just watching you fall apart for one of the youngest in the group.

"Gonna come?" Seungmin's tone is nothing short of teasing. His voice lilts with interest at the way you nod up to him, hair ruffling against the sheets as if the way your body reacted to his thumb pressing against your clit wasn't enough to tell him you were close. Your boyfriend chuckles, breathing out a laugh as he carefully slows his pace. Your body thrashes for a moment in annoyance before settling back down on the sheets, letting him do as he pleased because ultimately - he was in control here. "Hey," Seungmin bites, using his free hand to slap your pussy just as his movements stop. "None of that tantrum shit. Don't you want to behave in front of the others?"

"Don't think I'm ever gonna forget this," Felix's words don't fall on deaf ears. Seungmin looks up from where he sat between your thighs, fingers continuing to pump into your pussy so quickly it had you beginning to squirm and lift your hips off of the sheets. Felix sits up near the headboard, one hand laying on the pillow under his weight while the other rubs over his groin overtop his jeans. The feeling of the denim rubbing against his hard cock was something close to Heaven on Earth for him right now. Seungmin watches, letting his eyes wander over his Hyung for just a moment, before glancing beside him to the maknae - who was falling apart way faster than the Aussie.

Jeongin was in shambles. He'd been tugging on his cock since the moment you'd stripped naked in front of them, letting your boyfriend prove himself to his closest friends, and now he was just melting into the sheets. Slumped against the headboard and audibly whimpering just loud enough to be heard if one listened in closely - Jeongin let his eyes drag over your body where you lay in front of him. "You're being kind of - mean, don't you think, Hyung? Teasing her.." His hand slowed just for a moment as you moved to tip your head to the side, grateful the youngest had spoke up for you, moaning out and whimpering against his skin. He was close enough that when your head turned, your lips made contact with the bare skin of his thigh - his pants long discarded on the floor nearby. And the feeling of your breath fanning over his skin made him visibly tremble, cum leaking from the tip of his cock before he could even comprehend what was happening.

"I don't think I've ever seen him this determined," Changbin murmurs to someone to his left. His arms are crossed over his chest and he stands leaning against the wall - refusing to give in as easily as most of the others. He was one of the one who wouldn't look directly at you - at your tits swaying each time Seungmin got a little more rough with you, or the way you body arched and crooned into every move your boyfriend made. Not because he didn't want to, but because the sight of you looking so... desperate in front of all of them because Changbin a bit .. shy, with his ears painted a warm, bubbling crimson - and the color draining down to swatch his neck as well. But how was he supposed to ignore the sounds of your pussy clenching around your boyfriend's fingers - and the way he could see you practically drooling out of his peripheral vision...

Beside him, Chan was.. more than willing to look. He liked to touch, even, letting his fingertips brush over your cheek and watching your mouth open like you wanted to welcome him in. The eldest leaned down and for a moment, your breathing hitched, thinking he looked awfully big hovering over you in such a way - broad and thick and heavy, just like the cock that strained against his boxers begging to be freed. Your eyes dart up from between his legs and you stare as his tongue pushes along the inside of his lips. He gathers the spit on his tongue before giving it to you inside - spitting right onto your own and watching as you close your mouth to swallow it down. And you can't just ignore the soft "Good girl," that escapes his lips shortly after.

And Seungmin can't ignore the way you react. The way your body jolts up off of the sheets as your gut turns into knots, aching for release. He knows the signs - knows you'll squirt all over the sheets if he doesn't stop now - so he all but rips his hand away and watches as your body writhes in, once again, frustration. The warmth between your legs slowly begins to fade away as your boyfriend sits back, laughing at the way your nose crinkles and your eyes squeeze shut in hope that it's just a dream. "It's okay, baby," He soothes, both hands slowly running up the expanse of your inner thighs until his thumbs could spread you open for him all over again. Seungmin sits forward and leans down to spit right on your clit, your hips jutting at the sudden feeling.

"One more time, yeah? You've already done such a good job putting on a show for them. You can handle one more."

- Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

#skz imagine #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin imagine #seungmin smut #skz ot8 x reader #ot8 x reader #Kpop smut #Kpop imagine #Kpop x reader

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quantum1mmortality · 6 months ago

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The crew & using toys on their S/O in bed please with a cherry on top??

First time writing the whole crew kinda nervous 🤭🤭 I'm not writing Swansea tho I will NOT be writing nsfw of a married man

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, winners love winning in Anyas hcs (use of the term pillow princess), jorkinit jumpscare

Not proofread

Curly

I'm actually not sure if he'd be into toys

I've literally only written for Curly so I'd say I'm a Curly expert, and I just don't think he'd be into toys

He'd use a vibrator on you every now and then, but he'd just use it to tease you and make you beg for him.

He'd probably use cock rings. I am a firm believer Curly would use cock rings. Not all the time, but if he's had a really stressful day at work, he's wanting an extra hard hitting orgasm.

Omg not a toy but APHRODISIACS!!! This man would go crazy for some aphrodisiacs, whether he's taking it or you are.

Now I wanna write a wedding night one shot with Curly and aphrodisiacs thanks a lot anon 😔😔😔 I've got enough shit to write already

Anya

I don't care what any of you say this woman is a pillow princess

YOU'D be using toys on HER

She'd also be a cryer but that's not the point

She'd have a drawer dedicated to sex toys. She's trying to get into med school, she's CONSTANTLY stressed, how else is she supposed to release some of that stress? Don't judge her.

She wouldn't be into straps or dildos, she'd be into shit that vibrates. Vibrators obviously, rose toys, anything that stimulates the clit honestly

I lied she is into dildos this woman is a sucker for a RABBIT!!! Like I said, if it vibrates, she wants it.

Her favorite combo is the rose toy/vibrator + pussy licking. She cums so fast, then gets embarrassed, then begs for more. Praise her a bunch and she'll be able to go a few more rounds

BONUS CONTENT!!; she has a Christina and Princess Albertina, no further comments

Daisuke

Oh yeah, he's using toys.

He has a tongue piercing and sometimes he'll swap it out for a bar that vibrates but y'all aren't ready for that convo

He's gonna use the basic toys, nothing we haven't gone over yet. Vibrators, rose toys, cock rings, ect. He's just trying to figure out what he likes for right now, and he likes all of them

In missionary, he'd hold either a vibrator or rose up to your clit while he fucks you. Kind of uncomfortable as a position, but if it gets you off, it's worth it to him.

Not sure if this is considered a toy but he'd be interested in sounding. He's definitely had you try it on him once or twice, and he never lasts for more than a minute 😭 poor boy

He's just trying new things out. He's new to having a committed relationship, so anything you'd be into, he'd be willing to try. He'd let you peg him if you wanted, but don't ask me to write that.

My pegging days are over

Jonathan

The kinkiest cunt that ever cursed this god forsaken ship

Toys are a must have for him. On you, not him. He only likes using them on you, because it gives him a sense of power over you.

He'd be one of those assholes that would put a bluetooth vibrator in your panties and wait till you're in public to turn it on the highest setting. Like an asshole

Jizzdaddy would have a lot of toys. He'd have one of those robotic dildo setups that like.. idk does the thrusting how the fuck do I explain this????

You guys get what I mean if you've ever been on a porn site you've seen one

Anyway, he'd have one of those setups and watch it fuck you. Ass up, head down, grasping at whatever you could since HIS sadistic ass turned it up to the highest speed.

Eventually hed get pissed off and fuck you himself, claiming that you love the toy more than you love him 😔 the allegations are true but he doesn't have to know that

He'd also use plugs on you. In public, too. He doesn't care. If you humiliate yourself, that's your fault, not his.

vibrators are used during sex, nothing new. But it's the same situation as before. Claiming you love the toy more than him, so he stops using it.

Sometimes he'll just give in though and decide he doesn't care, and wants to tease you more than anything. Highest speed it can go, or the slowest. No in-between. He'll have you begging one way or another.

Chat I hate writing rough characters someone request ooc soft Joshua hcs so I can write him like I do Curly 🙏🙏🙏

A/N; Anya makes me wanna kiss girls

#mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #jimmy x reader #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #anya mouthwashing #anya x reader #why are there so many ship tags this is genuinely disturbing #curly x reader #captain curly x reader

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hyuny-bunny · 1 year ago

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skz + types of p*rn they watch (w/links) pt 1. hyung line

MDNI (+18) content warning: p*rn, nsfw links, mentions of rough sex, use of female anatomy, breeding, spanking, choking, fingering, oral (f receiving) most afab reader terms.

a/n: if the links are not working for you, you may need the app as most are not compatible with a web browser

pt 2. maknae line

chan: he's definitely watching twitter/x porn. as for what side of x he's on all depends on the mood. he definitely seems to stay on a more "vanilla" side. probably has a keen interest on size kink and breeding videos. but what they all have common is riding. it gets him so riled up seeing ones shot in cars because the next time he sees you it's all he thinks about. he'd love nothing more then to have you riding his dick, his hands holding your hips in place, eventually snacking a hand to lightly you choke and bunching your skirt in the other hand while you sloppily bounce on his cock. maybe he's taking you out to a nice dinner & movie but once your back in that car he's practically begging you to sit on his cock.

"baby, i need you so bad. come here, ride me, need to feel this pretty pussy on me."

breeding

riding

minho: there's so many things i could say about him. i don't think he necessarily needs porn to get off or actively looks for it, but i do think he loves being able to send you links that either remind him of the both of yours sexcapades or things he wants to do to you. i feel like he watches a lot of overstimulation, spanking, BREEDING, and just a sprinkle of voyeurism. i think he gets really turned on by the ones of girls in pretty lingerie wearing collars with bells, so every movement makes the bell ring. he almost collapses to his knees when he gets home one day to see you wearing the collar he bought, the one he'd been hiding and waiting for the right moment.

the only thing on your mind is the feeling of your sopping wet cunt being suffocated by minho's cock. he's got a fistful of your hair in hand, pulling you up from your pillow before landing a hard smack on your ass, never letting up on his thrusts.

overstimulation

spanking

changbin: another one in my books that loves size kink porn. not because i think he likes someone smaller, but more so the fact that he likes the feeling of being able to make someone feel so small. in seo changbins biceps, we trust. i think this one in particular will have him pleading with you to let him try it. you might feel reluctant because of any underlying insecurities at the though of feeling like you're "too heavy" (there's so no such thing to him) . it isn't till he's got you lifted up against the wall with no holding you either than his arms & shoulders, his mouth lapping away at your pretty cunt, any worries you ever had dissipated along with your ability to use your words.

"bin-binnie please i-i can't hold on much longer" a string of whines follow suit. he's been at it for a while and you've already had two orgasm but he's relentless. all you can hear are his groans and the squelching sound of his tongue abusing your cunt. he lifts his head up from between your thighs with you hand webbed in his hair, mirroring your worn out lustful look.

size kink

making you feel small

hyunjin: to me, i think hyun goes either of these two ways. he's the most depraved man known to walk this earth that loves it sloppy, messy, wet and downright lustfully filthy. the latter also leads me to believe he's not big on porn, prefers either his imagination or his OWN videos. one he's recorded (with your consent + encouragement) while you've done it together. he needs the passion of either love or the passion of wanting to make the either cum so hard they've gone to heaven (preferably both). if he's watching videos, his favorite ones always have the girl shaking and crying in pleasure by the end. he needs to see the passion, lust to be able to get off. when it's you, it's different, if anything it brings him back to those moments to fully remember the need between the two of you. that being said he's heavy into breeding/cumplay and semi restraining. he loves seeing the hands held behind the back and holding someone in place while they fall apart in his lap + cock.

it was supposed to be a quick kiss, which turned into heavy petting, and now he's brought your leg over his hips. the panties you were wearing discarded somewhere in the room, one arm is wrapped around you holding you tightly to his chest while his other hand is at work. his middle & ring finger are knuckle deep thrusting into you and he's groaning into your neck sucking hickies in all your favorite spots.

semi restraints

playing w you in his lap

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floweycidal · 6 months ago

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i keep thinking about how flowey had to construct the very concept of cruelty from the ground up.

not from watching anyone else, not by osmosis, but by cobbling it together himself in the garden where he woke up. alone.

this was a child who fell asleep to his mother's stories, who knew every inflection of his father's laugh. who spent endless golden afternoons with his sibling, both of them doubled over with giggles as they filmed their silly videos, messing up on purpose just to hear each other laugh. again. and again. and again.

so warm. so safe. where the gravest offense imaginable was maybe tracking mud on the carpet.

the worst fear, disappointing people who would love you anyway.

where could he even begin?

save. say these words that once meant comfort, but twist them just so. watch their eyes dim as something inside them breaks. load.

save. make a promise—you remember those, how snug they once made you feel—then shatter it. document exactly how hope crumbles. load.

save. try another combination. another betrayal. watch what splinters differently this time. load.

the world's loneliest science experiment.

look at the cruelty he creates, it's all so personal, specific. so devastatingly asriel.

watch how often he comes back to the idea of being replaced. of being forgotten. how he taunts you with the possibility that none of your relationships matter, that everyone will move on without you. that none of your choices mean anything in the end.

your fault. your responsibility.

if only he you hadn't made anyone love him you. If only he you hadn't loved them back.

of course he'd fixate on all that. how could he not? his mother, who used to speak his name like it was sacred, those tender words she reserved for him—for THEM—are now handed out indiscriminately, like candy to anyone who asks.

all he can do is take note: see how easily love transfers? see how simple it is to fade away?

so, he sneers. taunts you with the thought that it's all dust. you're just another passing face in the crowd. nothing lasts. nothing is worth the weight of caring. but even as he pushes that narrative, as his voice drips with contempt, he is still out there. in the ruins. checking on her.

observing from a distance, like maybe if he watches long enough, his past will solidify into something he can hold again.

flowey develops his cruelty like he's trying to solve an equation. if this word plus this action equals pain, then surely there must be some formula that yields not caring anymore.

if he'd just gotten it right. if he'd just kept everyone at a distance. if he could just be flowey. save. load. the answer has to be here somewhere.

but how do you quantify the sting of hearing her say "my child" to someone else? how do you account for the absence left in the places where joy once thrived? how do you document, in clinical terms, why you keep watching over people you swear don't matter anymore?

you don't devote yourself to perfecting devastation unless you remember, with searing clarity, what it felt like to be whole.

you don't give so much of yourself mastering the art of ridiculing attachment unless you're terrified of how much you still have left to give.

unless every attempt to prove love meaningless just confirms how much meaning it still has for you.

...point IS! flowey did an interesting job creating his own idea of a bully. it's all pathological. so crudely stemmed from his own sorrows and fears. he's created his own textbook definition of meanness...but then every chapter's just him screaming in a mirror.

#undertale #flowey undertale #flowey #undertale flowey #undertale asriel #asriel undertale #flowey the flower #asriel #think i've touched on this before #but i guess it wasn't enough #flooweyeyueueuueu #his projection game is STRONG as hell bro

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lostingrayrain · 6 months ago

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hello hello!! i bought homicipher the day it came out and i'm so in love with it.. but there's no content whatsoever and i'm so sad 😭😭 could you write literally anything for any character.. i just need to see more homicipher content!!! 😭😭💗

I GOT YOU ANON I've clocked in like 20 hours since the release on November 1st omg....

I've been cooking up something for my first Homicipher post.....here's some general thoughts on the relationships/dynamics with the main guys.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: sfw, some mentions of canon-typical violence

Mr. Crawling

He loves you!! He loves you so, so, so much!!!

Do you love him?

He asks you that. A lot. He loves to be reassured that you adore him. And he's always vocal about how much he adores you.

He follows you everywhere, like a lost puppy. It's honestly so endearing and sweet. He's constantly on the lookout for you.

He also adores physical touch, once he knows it's fine. Other than the little headpats, he likes to touch your legs, especially your calves. In times of rest he's incredibly cuddly and loves to nuzzle into you.

Pet his hair and he'll melt immediately. It's so relaxing to him.

He's usually with you, but when he's not he's often on the lookout for gifts and trophies to bring to you. He just wants to make you happy, in any way possible. The second there's anything you mention liking or being fond of, it's a priority for him to see if he can scrounge it up.

If you'll let him, he'd love to touch your hair. He will play with it and make silly nonsensical braids and giggle quietly to himself all the while.

He's a bit of a chatterbox. He loves to talk to you. Any time he's been away he likes to give you little reports of what he's done or what he's seen. And he wants to hear all about your day or your dreams, too. There's never a time he won't want to hear what you have to say.

Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair

You are so very interesting to him! He wants to study you.

But not hurt you. Normally, he probably would have already dismembered you to watch how your body pulls together again, but since you're friends with Mr. Chopped, he's put aside that urge.

Instead it's been replaced by something else, though he doesn't really understand what it is. He's never felt it before. Or maybe he has? Maybe he doesn't remember? Could you help him remember?

Whenever you’re feeling ill, he finds that he wants to make you feel better. He’s trying hard to learn how to keep you together just as you are.

He’ll get you to lie down when it seems you’re feeling faint, and carry you to bed when you collapse in the middle of an errand. Before he realises it, he's massaging your hair. Think nothing of it. Your head hurts, right? So it makes sense to pet you.

He likes to watch you sleep. He can’t put a finger on why. He likes to tell himself he’s doing armchair research when he’s really just….zoning out.

He's extremely perceptive and observant. He's always checking your reactions to things and events to figure out what you like or don't like, or to try to understand how you're feeling in the moment.

He's the type to politely ask if it's okay to touch you before doing so.

He would never hurt you unless your urges became unbearable, in which case it's self-defense, right? He'll make sure you'll turn back to normal and he'll be there for you every step of the way.

Mr. Gap

He's probably...one of the strangest denizens of the otherworld. You're still not sure if he has a body. But he has helped you on multiple occasions. You've found yourself growing fond of him.

You often see him peeking at you from various holes and gaps. Sometimes he tries to get your attention, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he just watches.

When you find a bag in the underworld, you begin carrying it around with you.

He's usually inside, but sometimes not. You have no idea where he goes.

He'll often bring back little gifts like weapons or food, like some bizarre cat. When he finds out you like candy, he tends to focus on that.

He always asks for your heart before he gives you anything, and you always say no, and he always grumbles.

But somehow you'll always find those same things coincidentally in your path or somewhere in the room after you wake up, if you've taken a nap.

He likes to scope out newspapers and magazines too, and show them to you, especially if they feature himself. He's so proud of that.

Over time, his requests for your heart grow less and less frequent. Sometimes, you forget he used to ask you for it at all, until he suddenly pipes up with the query again.

Is his wanting your heart the same thing as wanting your love? Things to ponder.

Mr. Hood

He's quiet and reclusive but he's there for you whenever you need him.

You need or want anything? Just ask. He'll give it to you immediately with hardly a question.

No harm will ever come to you whenever you're with him, and he hardly lets you out of his sight. He's incredibly protective of you.

He loves to carry you in his arms or on his shoulder, whether you're small or not. It's no bother to him. He's more than strong enough.

Hand touches are so pleasant to him -- whether you're touching his hands, or he's touching your face. He's secretly touch-starved. As long as you don't shy away, he'll continue to hold onto you.

He enjoys quizzing you on your knowledge of the otherworld language. When things are slow, he’ll randomly ask you if you know the names of certain things.

Whenever you both encounter something new during your travels, he’s quick to ask you if you know what it is or outright tells you what it’s called.

He seems a bit self-conscious of having minimal form. What is under his robe? If you don't ask he'll be grateful. He doesn't know himself.

But if you're not repulsed by his anomalous form, that's just -- incredibly touching.

He claims to not understand love, but he'll never abandon you.

Maybe he doesn't understand. Maybe he's forgotten.

But there's something about you that comforts him, and makes him feel safe. Quite paradoxical -- he's the one doing the protecting, after all. But your presence soothes him.

Mr. Machete

He's just looking for a way to not be bored. And being with you -- somehow, it's fun.

Maybe because he's usually alone, so he doesn't often have anyone else to talk to. It's...fun to banter with you, even if sometimes your words confuse him.

It's unquestionable that he's the brawn, you're the brain of this duo. Maybe the beauty and the beast, too?

He's always, secretly, been a little bit of a coward. The second things don't look like they'll turn out well for him, he ditches and flees.

But, oddly, you give him the courage to stand against things or monsters he would have thought were impossible to defeat.

Sometimes, you die -- whether by accident or because something else got to you before he could. But he always sighs and waits for you to wake up again. If you're mad, it's a little funny. You were just too slow that time.

He likes sparring with you. You have to get faster, right? Your weapon is pretty funny, too. So small and yet somehow you manage to not get overwhelmed by him. He's not holding back. He never would. Right?

He likes to pick you up and sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Likes to hug you like a teddy bear, too. You're soft and warm. You feel nice against him.

He's not the type to ask, but if you made any indication of not liking anything, he'd stop. He doesn't want to break you.

Mr. Scarletella

You are his queen. He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You are so fascinating to him. He just can't believe he's found someone as perfect as you. Someone who likes to destroy and kill people, just like him? Immaculate.

You haven't and never will give him your name. That's fine. He can live with that, as long as you're with him.

You've likely given him something else to call you. It's not quite your name -- maybe it's not your full name, and he knows it, because he can't quite grasp your essence. But it's enough to be able to give a sound to the person -- thing -- he likes most in this world.

He likes to say that not-quite name, and he says it often, just to get your attention.

He's fascinated by everything about you -- including how small you are in comparison to him. He loves that he can easily dwarf your form and loom over you. It's exhilarating in a completely different way from mindless violence.

Speaking of which, his favourite thing is without a doubt to commit violence with you. There's a new urban legend steadily growing in the human world, of a pair of murderers characterised by their red and white umbrellas. You're the perfect perfectly awful duo, truly.

Even when he's not with you, he's always somehow got an eye on you. Most of the otherworld residents know by now who you belong to, and they'd never lay hand on the one cherished by the red umbrella man.

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #mojibake #mozibake #文字化化 #mr silvair x reader #mr silver x reader #mr silver hair x reader #mr crawling x reader #mr hood x reader #mr machete x reader #mr gap x reader #mr scarletella x reader #ask #anonymous

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prettyboykatsuki · 21 days ago

Text

lace | (qin che)

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader ( gendered language + perfomancne of femininity (hair, makeup and nails)), established relationship, reader is not explictly mc, lingerie, loverboy sylus, unprotected sex, praise kink, squirting, sex toys (a butt plug), a very affectionate kind of objectification, creampies, riding (sylus is doing the work tho), 18+

♡ wc; 3.2k (what da hell)

♡ a/n ; this was supposed to be a birthday fic but its mad late. if you're wondering what readers outfit looks like imagine this but its a darker red and she's wearing a little bow choker and her stockings have bows. ok

be nice abt my sylus characterization writing him is so nervewracking lmao

♡ synopsis ; sylus figured you would give yourself to him as a gift, but finds himself pleasantly surprised by how seriously you take that promise.

Arousal blooms in his chest, petals pulled open by your neatly manicured fingers, gently nudged open.

He'd been expecting the gift. He just didn't think it'd shake him so easily. Not that he isn't always charmed by you, but it's been a long enough time that he can handle you. Mostly.

His desire for you is something he can manage without feeling taken off guard.

It's rare he feels that way. Some of his confidence is feigned, but most of it is sincere. Sylus faithfully believes in both his ability to withstand whatever you decide to throw at him, and your ability to surprise him.

All things accounted for - truthfully, he had been suspecting you'd do something like this. Birthdays are important to you, and you like having a reason to dress-up anyhow.

So he was prepared for it, one way or another. He thought you'd do something like this, seen the money come out of his account a few weeks prior. He was excited then - mostly to tease you.

A fair exchange for how he's wrapped around your finger. He'd have made you done a little spin, tiled his head and quirked his lips as he asked if it was all for him. Smile at you lovingly while you glared at him irritated and bashful.

He was excited more-or-less. Now he's... well, maybe he can still call it that. Not nervous, not quite elated - some in between. Nerves suspended in mid-air, the kind of thrill he gets only now and again.

It's rare for anything to make his heart beat this loudly. It's not the first time you've accomplished it, but it never fails in it's novelty.

Just seeing you in your attire is enough to knock all of he air out of his lungs.

The air around you feels different as you come through the threshold of the bedroom door. Wearing a warm, familiar and playful expression - while you're nothing but provocative from the neck down.

You're dolled up from head-to-toe. Hair, make-up, nails.

A full fit of lingerie.

Everything is in a matching shade of maroon. A lace bow is secure around your neck in the same color.

You look up at Sylus with mirth in your eyes. A satisfaction even as you wait in earnest for his approval. You do a little spin, your robe swishing around you. And then you beam at him, all smiles.

"Don't I look nice?"

He almost scoffs reflexively. "You look like something out of a painting,"

Your heels click on the tile floors as you venture to him closer and closer. Sylus watches on silently until you stop in front of him.

"It's your birthday. We can get straight to business, if you like."

Sylus stares at you, slumped against the leather couch. It creaks under his weight.

"It'd be a shame to rip through such precious wrapping," Sylus murmurs, breath-taken. "Let me see you,"

You smile a little brighter. Pleased that he's interested, as if there was a way he wouldn't be. Your heels click when you take a step back, undoing the loose belt of your floor-length robe and let it fall open.

Sylus feels himself draw in a sharp breath as you show yourself off. The smooth curves of your body are all wrapped tightly in a sheer panels of lace and tulle. A bodysuit hugs your figure, balconette bra making everything sit pretty - thick ribbon straps tied at your shoulders. Your thighs are plush underneath garter straps, keeping up a pair of stockings in the same color. Sylus lets his eyes drift, lets them catch where the lace circles tightest around your thighs before they go lower.

At your feet are a nice pair of heels. A few inches high with something fluffy attached - a cute detail to go with your robe. You've got loose tulle gloves that for some reason knock him silent.

Sylus lets you model it for a while. Leans back into his seat and feels his cock strain tight against his pants at the sight of you. All the effort you put in him for makes him dizzy.

You let your robe drop finally, before turning on your heel.

He puts a hand over his mouth when he sees the back. Tries to be subtle. Feels a little thankful that you don't see him falter over it. You're so gorgeous he really doesn't know what to do.

Unsurprisingly he quite likes the view. It's not entirely revealing - but it's more ribbon then cloth. The small of your back hosts a little ribbon corset that stops just half-way - leaving most of your back exposed. Your ass is visible accentuated with more thin lines of red fabric.

You're wearing backseam leggings. For a reason he can't quite put into words, they're what seems to catch his attention most. From the back of your knee - a single seam all the way to the bottom of your foot. A long red-line, with a ribbon bow at the back of your ankle.

It's such a small detail, really. Maybe that's why Sylus finds himself so utterly enamored by it. It's the attention to such little things that he feels so aroused by.

You look over your shoulder, pleased by his silence. A coy, coquettish smile and mischievous air. A sweet scent surrounds you, freshly bathed - something like vanilla and spice.

Is this what being under a spell feels like? Sylus thinks it's the first time he's ever been so entranced.

"You're awfully quiet," You say, warm. A hand on your hip as you turn again, walking towards him. "Not a fan of the look?"

He laughs under his breath. "More like I'm speechless. I'm afraid there isn't a word good enough for you,"

"Are you flattering me?"

"Not at all. Just telling you how I see it," Sylus replies.

You sit yourself down in his lap again like you own it. "You like what you see?"

"Very much so,"

You smile at him, preening under the attention. You're seducing him successfully - but not for the reasons you might assume. You trail a finger down his jaw - head tilted with shimmering eyes. "It's your birthday, big guy. You can have whatever you want,"

"Are you sure that's a smart offer to make? I'm feeling a little greedy this evening, it seems."

Your laugh is warm, a bubbly sound like giggling that makes Sylus smile.

"Isn't it fine? It's your birthday after all," You lean in slightly, your voice closer to his ear. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, manicured nails slightly sinking into his skin. "Plus, I made preparations you know,"

He looks at you with his brows quirked but you just smile at him. You find his hand and hold it, bringing it between your thighs. Sylus' eyes widen as you pull away at the fabric covering your pussy.

With your hand over his, you guide his hand - his fingers where you want them. You use your finger to push his, middle finger pressing past your folds. A noise of effort escapes your lips as Sylus watches you in awe. His digit slipping into you easily, much easier then he can on a normal day. Almost like you—

"Stretched myself out in the shower," You hum, pleased. There's a sound in your voice like you know this is going to ruin him. It's working. His other hand finds your ass, holds it tight - trying to anchor himself as his fingers sit in the wet warmth of you. It's his own movement now. He tests three and each slide in without resistance and Sylus feels his chest get tight with arousal. Fuck. "Took a while. Had to use a few toys to get it—ngh, stretched completely. You know, for both holes,"

"You—kitten," His voice is thick with lust as he curls his fingers in. Feels you stretch. Feels the plug in the other side of you that makes his breath hitch. "That's not fair,"

"What are you saying? I did it for you, silly. Consider it your last present for today. Indulge a little. You always take good care of me, Sy." You're being sweet to him while you're riding his fingers and Sylus wonders when you learned to be like this and if he was always so weak. He's usually composed, even when you're fighting him tooth and nail to not be.

Maybe it's the fact you're not trying to work him up or break him that's doing it for him. You're being coy and cloying, but sincere in giving him a gift.

He feels strangely lightheaded at the thought of you gifting your body to him. Really gifting it to him. Not as a playful bit between you.

Sincere enough to stretch yourself all the way open in the shower for him, to dress up and dry your hair. To pick out a pretty outfit and wrap yourself in a red bow.

All for him.

"Sweetheart," Sylus groans. Deep from his chest, suddenly on edge. You laugh at him lightly and Sylus feels you tighten around his fingers. He puts his head on your shoulders and closes his eyes.

You're breathing with effort as you speak. "Let me finish, jeez. You always take good care of me when we do it, yknow. And you never let me do anything, which is nice but," You pull back and your lashes flutter. Sylus can't imagine living a thousand more lives and seeing anything half as beautiful as you. "Well sometimes I want to. I love you just the same as you do me. And I swear eventually I'm gonna fit you in my mouth—your dick is just fucking enormous but whatever—I'll do it eventually, anyway, the point is -"

Sylus just laughs. It startles you a little, but he can't help himself. Doesn't know what else to do to express how fucking endearing he finds you then and there. You pause, faltering a little. A pout on pretty lips.

"Don't laugh at me,"

"At you? I could never sweetheart. I'm just," He takes a breath. "Mm, what's the word? Happy, perhaps"

"Perhaps? Sylus you're hurting my feelings,"

"Am I?"

"Well...no, but. Don't say perhaps. I can't read your mind and you're making me kinda nervous,"

How silly for you to be nervous when just looking at you makes him like this. He hums, bemused. "Nervous?"

You give him a look. "Well I was expecting you to be more... I dunno... all 'oh, you dressed up for me sweetheart, how cute' like always but,"

He scoffs lightly. "Is that how I sound to you,"

You ignore him. "But you're being all... nice and stuff."

He laughs again and you flush. "Nice and stuff. Am I not usually nice?"

"You're..! Well you are but I dunno. I can't tell what you're thinking today. I feel a little silly,"

"Should I tell you then? What I'm thinking?" Sylus quips. You nod, almost hopeful.

"I'm thinking I've somehow gotten very lucky," Sylus presses a kiss to your cheek. Another at the corner of your mouth "And that, I must've done something monumental in my past life to have you all to myself,"

Sylus puts his lips where your pulse is, feels your heartbeat underneath thin skin. You pause before speaking. "And?"

He smiles a little. "And it'd be a great shame to waste any more time without enjoying my gift to the fullest. I'm saying I like it. Tell me how I should prove it to you?"

You giggle. It's a sweet sound, a breath of relief as you bury your face into his shoulder. Sylus lets his hands roam, sitting at the small of your back as you settle your weight into his lap. Sylus feels spurred to continue. "How could I tease you when you're trying so hard to please me? Do you think I'm so unaffected?"

"It's not my fault I have a hard time believing the big bad boss of Onychinus could get all worked up over little ol' me,"

Sylus hums. His fingers sink into the plush of your hips as he pulls you down - your clothed pussy flush to the outline of his clothed cock. "What a silly thing to think,"

"Oh fuck," You moan soft into his ear, both arms around his shoulders. Sylus likes the way you feel when you cling to him. How you breathe how your hips stutter. "Ngh, you're so hard,"

"All for you. I'm all yours,"

Sylus smiles a little as you grind yourself against him subconsciously. A careless cant of your hips as your body sinks against his chest. Sylus often teases about you being a kitten, but it's because of moments like this. Needy and unthinking like a cat in heat, making it easy on him to pin you down. He can feel you get off on him, feel how your movements stutter when you catch on your clit - shoulders trembling from pleasure.

Sylus presses his nose to your shoulder and lets you get off to your hearts content. Holds your body as tight as his hands can grip when you do.

"Sylus," Your words are long and drawn out.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Come on," You beg, not all the way there. "Use me already,"

He breathes in sharp, laughing. You really don't play fair.

He doesn't say anything of your request. "You don't have to wait for me. You can take what you want,"

A noise of complaint gets mumbled into his chest as you pull away from him. You lean back where you sit in his lap - face flushed, gloved hands quickly undoing the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his slacks. Sylus watches you through lidded eyes. Hooking your pointer into his boxers, you tug down just far enough to let his cock spring free and pull it out. It stands tall. A hard, heavy weight leaning against his dress shirt. Pre-cum dribbles against the material as it sways back.

The rough material of your tulle gloves makes Sylus hiss. You wrap your fist around the shaft of his cock but it doesn't fit - your fingers not touching.

You lean down as best you can and spit hard onto the head of his cock. Sylus groans as he feels it run down his length. Satisfied, you use your grip to stroke him until his cock is sticky and wet, making a mess of your gloves as they're stained with saliva and cum.

You push his shirt until it's bunched over his abs, feeling them up after you've prepared him.

"You're so big," You mumble. Sylus chuckles.

"Yeah?"

You nod, eyes glazed over. A thousand thoughts run through his mind at once but at the end of each last one is somewhere between adoration and lust.

Without ceremony, Sylus watches you stand on your knees on either side of his thighs and pull the material of your bodysuit away from your pussy. With your free hand, you hold onto his shaft and shimmy yourself down until the tip of Sylus' cock is right at your entrance.

You sink down onto his cock just like that - near effortless.

Sylus moans. It's never easy to get himself inside of you, but you're so soft inside. So perfectly stretched. Warm and sticky and inviting, he groans unabashedly as you sink down on his length slowly. Swallowing him up in a panting breath.

There's barely any resistance, but you're still tight from the plug you wear. You must've been fucking yourself for a long while to get like this and the image is seared into his mind. Sylus can't imagine how long it took you to get yourself like this. Your body never yields to him this easily, at least not until he's had his way with you over and over until you're so pliant you might shatter into pieces.

Sylus feels his body go slack from arousal. A feeling of electricity flickering up his spine as his cock is completely enveloped by your warmth. The head nudges against your cervix as you lose strength in your legs - bottoming out with a gasp.

Sylus growls. It's a low sound, a desperate one. His cock aches, desire welling up in his veins. He lets his head fall back, unusued to the sensation of getting everything in at once. His throat bobs as he hands find your ass. Gripping tight, he catches his breath as he feels you over him wobbling.

"Sylus," Your voice is so whiny like this. So endearingly gone. "Sylus, you're so big. Oh, it's—aah,"

His lashes flutter as he struggles to hold himself back. His dick and usual sense slowly ticking away. He opens his eyes loosely, putting a hand to your stomach before trailing it up - almost near your ribs. His voice is murmur soft. "I'm all the way in here,"

You make a choked noise, falling forward against his chest. "...Nn yeah. Mm. 's full."

He laughs but its incredibly strained. "You're really talented in getting me worked up, you know?"

"I'm not trying to,"

Sylus chuckles. "Oh I know,"

"Sylus," You whine.

He kisses your shoulder. "Yes, dove?"

"Fuck me. Please? Wanna move but I think my legs gave out,"

Sylus laughs again, warmer this time. Fonder. "How could I say no to such a sweet request?"

With you limp in his lap, it's all too easy for Sylus to hold you but your hips and fuck into you. You're almost weightless with your much you've melted into him, stuck to him with gravity.

Sylus is strong. With and without his EVOL. He thinks its a necessary thing to be given all he has to protect.

But it has its other uses.

It feels good being able to move you up and down on his cock like it's nothing. Not really moving his own hips to meet your movements, but holding you with both hands and picking up your full weight before pulling you back down again—while you claw into his shoulders for purchase. It's the first time you've ever been fucked open enough for him to do it without hurting you.

Even though he's fucking you hard enough for it to echo against his bedroom walls. The wet smack of skin to skin, the filthy sound of your pussy being carved into the shape of him, your hips slamming down on him relentlessly. Doing it without worry or concern.

There's something unusually animal about fucking you this way. No restraint, more like you're mating then making love.

It feels good to feel all of you. Feel every single inch of your perfect, pretty cunt - walls trembling on each thrust. Your short breaths and shaky moans, your nipples hardening through the salacious lace of your top and pressing against the swell of his chest.

You just feel so fucking good. You make him feel so good.

"I can't get enough of you, sweetheart," Sylus says, half-way to losing his mind inside of you but trying to keep it together. "You feel so perfect, I don't know if I'll be able to let you rest."

"Sy," Your voice is warped with pleasure, a loud needy cry for him and him only. "Wanna cum, wanna cum on your cock, Sylus please,"

"Touch yourself, sweet girl," Sylus hums. "I'll fuck you until you can't take it, so touch yourself and feel good,"

Sylus feels your shaky hand maneuver between your bodies. Your fingers twitch as you rub tiny circles into your throbbing clit, immediately clamping down his length from pleasure.

Sylus watches you as it all comes down at once. Your body weakened, numb from pleasure as you needily chase your own high. The sound of his name broken on your lips, rocking yourself to match his movements and grind into your fingers.

"I'm cumming. I'm cumming, I'm cumming, 'mcumming,'m—"

Sylus feels it. Your pussy squeezes, grips around the length of his cock like a vice. There's a sudden wetness, a spray of something wetting his abs and slacks. You whimper as he fucks you through the tremors. Fucked entirely stupid, even your thank yous come out slurred.

Sylus follows quickly behind, pumping his cum into you with a deep breath. He can feel it rise up, thick hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Touching a place he thinks he's only just reached for the first time.

You both pause to catch your breaths as Sylus takes a moment to toy with one of your garters. He kisses your neck, speaking into it.

"Thank you for the birthday gift. I think I'll take my time unwrapping it," Sylus hums.

You laugh tired. "Mm. Glad to know it was a success,"

#sylus x reader #sylus smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #writing tag #where small;#lads x reader #lads smut

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arminsumi · 7 months ago

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. . . 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Suguru Geto (18+)

Suguru tying his hands behind his back because his best friend wants you — and he wouldn't get in the way of Satoru's happiness, would he?

► 'I heard that you fell in love... I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby, snap out of it'

+ warnings: MDNI/18+ content, cheating, smoking, sexual tension, angst

"No, not at all. Don't worry about it." Suguru shook his head in denial.

"You sure? I was under the impression that you wanted her." Satoru said.

"Wow, Satoru, you've known me for how long? And yet still you misunderstand me." he smirked, "I only ever said that she's pretty. That's all."

"Oh!" Satoru blinked, "Okay, good."

"She's probably interested in you — you should go for it." Suguru encouraged.

"Yeah, I think I will. I mean, the worst she could do is say no, right?"

Suguru let out an amused hum, keeping his lips pursed.

As Satoru went over to your table, Suguru watched with a tightening jaw, wishing for the worst — but his wishes fell on deaf ears, he soon realized, as he observed a 'yes' forming on your lips.

... Am I a fool?

Suguru's features twitched in discomfort when he watched you and Satoru hitting it off.

It's fine. I don't like her that much, anyways.

. . . 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝,

and Suguru realized that he was, in fact, a fool. Quite possibly the biggest fool in the world.

Whenever you and Satoru flirted, whenever you kissed, whenever you locked up like lovers so shamelessly and openly in front of him, he felt sick to his stomach — terribly sick. He'd suddenly excuse himself to the bathroom, and tremble over the sink; not quite ready to squeeze the contents out of his stomach, but close to retching.

But weren't you a fool, too?

"Why did you ever think that dating his best friend would bring you closer to him? It's just silly." your friend derided.

"Don't ridicule me. My feelings for Satoru aren't a lie — "

" — yeah right."

" — it's just that I expected them to overpower the feelings I had for Suguru. Can you really blame me? Even you said that Suguru has that something about him."

Yes, that something about Suguru Geto. Many people before you have felt that urge to desperately grab him, sink their claws into him, and never let go. He's never been oblivious to it.

Suguru's so blasé about love. He's the kind of man that doesn't show too much interest — and that's half the fun of it all. There's no pressure; just tie your laces and run after his shadow.

. . . 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠,

and by summer the tension between you and him was growing like a little beast in the pit of your bellies.

Stolen glances. Quiet midnight conversations in the dark hallway. Pathetic flirting quickly covered up as a joke. Lingering hugs. Drunk confessions conveniently 'forgotten' the next day. Walking as if in a daze at your side, side-eyeing you kissing his best friend with an unmissable bitterness shaking his eyelashes.

It was only a matter of time until it all became too much. Who remembers who snapped first? Him or you? Of course you can blame it on drunkenness, but isn't that the reason you got drunk with Satoru's best friend in the first place? So that tomorrow, all the kisses could be excused with "I was drunk, it didn't mean anything".

. . . 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬,

it was more than that; you feeling up his chest and nimbly unbuttoning his white shirt, him pushing you up against the wall, not kissing you like a normal person — tasting and relishing your lips and cheeks and neck like some kind of starved animal, Suguru lured you into his cold, dark bed with full intent to devour you.

"Let me take it off for you." Suguru offered, soft voice shaking with this greedy lust that you can't quite explain.

You complied and let him peel your clothes off your body — and though he did it with haste, he savored every moment.

I'm taking what's supposed to be mine.

That's what he thought, and kept repeating to himself in his head as he unzipped his black skinny jeans and hurried out of them, and slid his boxer briefs down, and got inside you like he didn't care about anyone by any name except yours.

Grunting like he needed this for his whole life, Suguru muttered small dirty things against your neck, hiding his face there.

"... you're so tight, are you sure it doesn't hurt?" turned into "... you're taking it so well" turned into "am I better than him? Tell me I'm better than him, please. what do you mean you 'don't know'? Come on, you can lie to Satoru but don't lie to me... I know I can fuck you better than he can." turned into "Cum for me, baby; let me see how pretty you look when you cum all over a big cock" turned into "... why don't you just stay the night?"

. . . 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚,

because Suguru got a taste of what it's like to wake up with you at his side. It was like a picturesque view; you looking messy and splayed out after a long night sprawled out underneath him.

When he felt his heart pang with the anxiety that he'd never be able to have you to himself, that's when he got out of bed and got dressed, leaving you alone in his bed.

It was a bad idea.

Getting a text from Satoru, shaking your upper arm to wake you, panicking but trying to look composed, seeing his hickeys on your neck — Suguru just went silent with guilt.

What have I done.

He sat on the edge of his bed, the early morning sun just barely streaming in through the gap in the curtains, and he watched you get dressed.

"I need a cigarette." he said anxiously, and got up to go have a smoke on the balcony.

You gave him a weary look and watched him leave. Just as you pulled the last bit of your clothes on your body, he lit up and drew in a deep breath and tainted his lungs with dirty tar and carcinogens.

Walking out onto the balcony, hearing the early morning traffic of Tokyo and seeing the dreary grey of cloudy skies, you stood besides Suguru.

Your attention. That's all he ever wanted. Your attention and a lot of it.

"Sorry." he apologized, lowering his cigarette and putting it out. "I know you don't like it when I smoke."

"You're right; I don't." you said, coming in close and pulling him down for a kiss. "But for some reason, it tastes good on your lips."

He looked down at you with full, black eyes.

"I'm not gonna tell Satoru anything about last night. Are you?"

"No, but I'm thinking of breaking up slowly with him."

"Don't do that. Just forget about me. You love him right?"

You looked away to the skyscrapers and refused to meet Suguru's eyes for a while.

"How am I supposed to forget about you?" you chuckled, "Even if I could, you don't really mean that, do you?"

"... No." Suguru hesitantly replied.

He looked at you shiftily, torn between crying and kissing you or both — a million little and big feelings overwhelmed him. He tried to organize them all, or at least as best he could, and waited for a moment of mental clarity to come over him before speaking again.

"Is it my fault, or have you been thinking of breaking it off with him for a while?"

"It's not your fault, Suguru. It's been a long time coming."

"How long?"

"Since it started. But why are you asking me questions that you know the answer to, Suguru?"

He shrugged, "I just needed clarity."

"Well there's your clarity." you sighed, "I'm gonna take a hot shower."

Suguru looked at you, dying for the moment when your eyes met his gaze, but it didn't come; he stood there unsatisfied and frustrated as you went inside without even paying him a glance, his black eyes on your back.

He rubbed his face, sighed hard, and lit up another cigarette and smoked it while listening to the shower run in the background, just pathetically daydreaming of little fantasies of joining you.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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mercy-burning · 7 months ago

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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

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