#<- another tag for you to block if you're not interested

[rey-jake-therapist]

Excuse me ? "it's you who started it", are you twelve ? You're accusing me of things that other shippers have done, so tone down your voice please.

Yes it was me who posted this comment, I won't deny it. It was in this post, that commented on a post quoting an article that claimed that Galadriel was "done with Sauron" and that Celeborn was an extremely important character in the story of LOTR and that it was imperative that the show would introduce him now. YES I called certain Celeborn stans delusional not because they ship Galadriel and Celeborn lol but because they often make him a much more important than he is, and are also often vocal on how that now Galadriel will "step back", her life will turn around him. This is just not going to happen. And YES I called this take in particular delusional because

1) Galadriel is not done with Sauron, wether you ship it or not it will always remain a very important connection the show

2) Celeborn is a side character, he's not important. Is he important for Galadriel ? Of course he is, he's her husband, the father of her child. But in the overall story? No, he isn't, and no, it's not crucial that he shows up in the story now. But if he does, he does ! I won't stop watching the show because Celeborn appears.

3) and yes some Celeborn stans are often very annoying and agressive, you just proved it. That's why I said what I said in the screenshot. For the record, it came just a few days after certain Celeborn stans blamed Haladriel shippers for chasing Charlie Vickers away from Instagram, while they had nothing to with it, as it was proven. So yes, I was pissed, and I don't do it often but this day I generalized. It was wrong, but since you're just doing exactly the same thing to me by accusing me of things that other people did, I can't say i feel very guilty.

Idgaf about your ship, and i don't think I said anything remotely negative about it in this post, did I ? I called it 'boring', but I also said that most marriages are boring, as 'uneventful'. I find it boring as a subject to watch and analyse, okay ? Christ, I even called my own past relationship 'boring', and I loved most of it ! I don't think it's being anti shipping to say that I'm not obsessed with the daily routine of a married couple to the point of imagining their life together or write fanfic about it.

All that you accuse ME of saying (I say 'me', because I'm the one being personally attacked here. I don't represent the Haladriel fandom as a whole, mind you) : sorry bro, wrong target, because I never called any of C/G shipper 'delusional'. Some of those who use their ship to attack mine annoy me, yes, but I'm also well aware that it's not the majority of the shippers who do that (I know there are fellow shippers that claim that most C/G shippers are fake, but I. am. not. them.)

I also never called any shipper 'puritan incel' for wanting a wife and a husband to be reunited. Not only it will happen, but it HAS to happen. I'm not an idiot, I know how the story ends and it ends well for your ship and really not well for mine. I'm totally cool with it, I even love my ship for this reason, among others.

Also, you're a former Reylo

Ahhhhh again, wrong target bro, I'm not at all a former Reylo, never been a Reylo. I had a vague interest for it at some point, but it quickly passed. And I'll even confide you one thing : I'm always profundly annoyed when I see Haladriel being claimed as another Reylo, because these dynamics are for me extremely different. Sauron is not Kylo Ren, for which I'm very grateful because I can't stand the guy (sorry my Reylo friends, but it is what it is. Love on you though).

Don't start talking me about fandom etiquette when you're the one attacking me. The comments you screenshot were adressed in a post that didn't tag your ship or your beloved Celeborn, so you found it because you wanted it. People are allowed to express negative opinions on a fictional character, and you are allowed to block them if you don't like it. THIS is basic fandom etiquette. Every day I find the worst takes on characters I love, and yet you don't see me whining in the mentions of whoever posted them. Most of the time I just shrug it off and scroll down, because I'm a grown woman !

However, I don't support any of the behaviours you're accusing me of having. I'm not for attacking real people over their like of a ship or of a fictional character.

I'll leave you time to read this answer, then I'll indeed block you because I don't need this kind of nuisance. Go find somebody else to pile on, because you got the wrong person here, clearly.

Why is it so hard to understand that Sauron being the villain and downright evil is precisely what makes Saurondriel a fun and interesting ship to play with ?? I mean it's so amusing to see people clutching their pearls over the fact that many viewers (women mostly) find this dynamic attractive, as if the point of shipping was not often to have FUN playing dolls with fictional characters who if they existed in real life, would have no business being together. Unlike real life toxic relationships, the fictional ones are HARMLESS. Unless you can't dissociate fiction and reality and don't see that Galadriel is a fictional character, there's nothing harmful in shipping her with anyone else than her husband.

I'm not sorry to say I don't see why I should ship Galadriel with her currently dead husband, while Galadriel herself doesn't seem to give a shit about him at all (in the show). Seeing some people bemused that no more fans ship her with Celeborn as if a relationship being canon made it automatically fun to ship is a bit funny, to say the least.

I don't see any fun in imagining scenarios where they live their very normal marital life, raise their very normal kid and sometimes have dinners with their very normal family. Why don't more people ship Galadriel and Celeborn ? Because it's boring that's why. I see boring married people everyday in real life already, my own marital life was mostly boring as well (except when my ex decided it was "put you down for no reason" day.... I preferred the boring days), why the hell would I care for fictional boring married people ?

Don't get me wrong, It doesn't mean that I don't want Galadriel to have this life ! I want her to be happy, of course, but see what's great with Saurondriel is that I KNOW that it will never be a threat to Galadriel's life with Celeborn. I KNOW that he'll come back at some point, I KNOW that she'll have this peaceful marital life, and us shipping Galadriel and Sauron will never change that because it's already written.

[superblysubpar]

I hope this isn’t too personal but would you tell us how your screenwriting process was? I saw that you submitted WCIL as a screenplay and as someone whos scared to stop I’d love to know how you did it

Um this not too personal AT ALL. I really wanna chat about things with you all, whether that's dumb stuff or serious stuff or whatever. My inbox is open 💛 Also, I am SO sorry this is so fucking long ���

My #1 piece of advice is to decide to take the leap. Which, I get, is easier said than done. I had dreams of doing things for the movies one day since I was little, I just let society and myself convince me that dreams like that don't pan out -- except how would I know if I never try?? And it's scary. I have a degree I'm proud of that took me a long time to get for a job I am not pursuing and don't really want to again. It's scary to change directions and take a leap into unknown territory, especially one that's centered around the arts - often looked down on by other people with "real jobs". It's taken a very long time to get here, this community is largely to thank for the chance at this dream, as well as people I've met through this Fandom. I would have never taken the leap without the encouragement of people in this fandom, especially @loveshotzz & @sweetsweetjellybean . But ultimately, I had and have to be the one who has faith in myself.

#2, follow some accounts on Instagram, where ever, listen to some podcasts, etc. A ton of how I found out about these contests is just from listening to The Screen Writer's Life podcast and hearing them mention contsests. Then I googled contests, and found their accounts on Instagram which led me to more, I'll post a few pictures below of some beneficial ones - pay special attention to rules of contests and also the validity of an account - who else follows them, what info can you find about them on Google, can you submit material that's submitted to other contests etc.

#3 - in terms of the actual screenwriting process, I will say I am largely winging it 💛 but here's a few things that may help:

I have this book I'm reading (picture below) which turned out to be a pretty standard for the industry? People like Tina Fey have talked about reading this book and then just doing the damn thing in interviews.

I had a few film studies courses over the years, so this helped me understand a little bit of the language used when critiquing film and studying screenplays - but I don't think this is necessary. There's a ton of lower cost online courses, masterclass, free YouTube videos and more if you Google.

Reading other screenplays. Do you have a genre you want to write specifically? Or how about your favorite movies? While there is a sort of standard way to write a screenplay, it's amazing how when reading a variety of scripts, you can see each screenplay Writer's individual voice and vision. Many are free online to read just by googling, at least a version of the script potentially in its early draft stages.

I used the software, free version, Celtx to write WCIL. It was very user friendly and easy to pick up, and I think gives you a great gateway into how to write a screenplay. However, the free version was pretty glitchy, and now that I know I want to do this more, I'll be investing in Final Draft (pretty standard in the film industry from what I can tell). Aside from this sort of teaching me the layout, Google and interest and like I said, reading other scripts, got me into the flow of how to write one.

I had a pretty clear vision of WCIL because of already writing the fanfic. For me, having the clear outline helped immensely. And then, for me, it helped to do the straight dialogue from beginning to end, with no action or scene headings, THEN I went back and filled these pieces in. From all my research (and that book I'm reading) dialogue is the most important part of your screenplay. As the writer of a movie, it is not your job to descibe the setting and the emotions and the costumes in immense detail. Your job is the story, and it's everyone else's job to bring it to life. So that leads to - just letting things go - realizing "hey as much as I love this scene, is it important to the story? Why or why not. What needs to be cut for it to fit? Do I need this piece of action or is the dialogue enough Etc."

Lastly, honestly just googling questions I had - anything from page numbers (a page typically equals about a minute for example, which is why the standard maximum page number usually is 120) to how to show an interruption in dialogue, to what should be capitalized and what shouldn't  - Google is your friend. The screenplays of other movies are your friend. The more resources you read the more you learn and absorb.

I really hope any of this helps!! If I can do it, you can do it! Good luck 💛💛💛

Highly beneficial accounts to follow to start off with. But there's so much more!

The podcast I listen to:

The book 💛

[psikind]

hey so. childhood friend of mine commited suicide late july and his dad’s trying to fund the money for his funeral service - if people have the money to donate please do the service is in 3 days (august 5th) and he’s very close to the goal but otherwise it’d mean a lot if people spread the link around -> https://gofund.me/f04d9bf0

[layzeal]

okay i'm gonna ask something very real right now. since we'll be receiving even more influx of users, lots of people will be using the main tags to find and be found by potential new mutuals

so, can we all agree to please keep discourse-bait posts outside the main tag?

this is like. the #1 reason i don't go into the main tag. it's exhausting. i rely almost entirely on mdzsartreblogs and my friends reblogs to find new posts, because the main tag is filled with #hot takes and discourse bait and people trying to start shit on purpose, which is silly cause most of the time you'll be posting that for your followers who already agree with you anyway

so, for the sake of welcoming new people, can we keep the main tag clear, please? if you do, use a different tag (you've must all have seen by now how i only ever tag my posts as #modao) i hate blocking people on tumblr, but because there's no mute button, it's the only option, but that also means i miss any other non-discourse bait post they might make

so like, let's keep it chill, let's keep it respectful. post whatever you wish on your blog, but if you're tagging it as #mdzs (or any main fandom tag), then please first wonder if it's a post you genuinely think would add value to it and help boost the artists and writers trying to look for audiences, or are you just looking for people to anger and causing people to not want to go into the tag anymore

[smileysuh]

creep

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever - you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu's perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. 

tw/cw. dark content warning, serial killer Mingyu, mention of suicide, touch starved mingyu, switch mingyu, pussy eating, pussy worship, blow job, hand job, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, extreme voyeurism, mentions of non-consensual voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, manhandling, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (his) good boy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k

🍭 aus. Halloween, ghost!mingyu, serial killer!mingyu, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I really can't explain this one other than saying I tried to make Mingyu redeemable by saying he only killed bad men 👀

Out of all the guy friends you have over, Jeonghan is Mingyu’s favorite. He’s always up to no good, talking shit that Mingyu can listen to for hours, and tonight, he’s brought a Ouija Board, which has spiked Mingyu’s curiosity. 

“Come on, it will be fun,” Jeonghan insists. “I’ve been wanting to do a seance in your apartment since you moved in three months ago.”

You’re not as impressed as Mingyu is about the idea, and neither are your other friends.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Seungkwan says for the fifth time since the rag-tag group of friends entered your home. “We said we’d come back here between Halloween parties and drink, we never said anything about contacting the dude that killed himself here.”

Mingyu remembers the day you visited the apartment for the first time, the way the realtor had downplayed what happened here. Times are tough, and the price reduction had enticed you, despite Mingyu’s tragic history. 

“Come on, don’t you guys wanna ask why he did it?” Jeonghan presses.

“He did it because he was a top suspect in a string of murder cases,” Seungkwan fires back. “Case closed.”

Jeonghan scoffs loudly. “But what if he didn’t do it? What if the real serial killer came here, killed him, and made it look like a suicide-”

“Hannie,” you interrupt with a sigh, “what’s with you and your infatuation with murderers?”

“Me?!” Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “Who’s the one who watches all my slasher films with me? Don’t pretend you're innocent here, we all know you have a thing for bad boys.”

Mingyu’s noticed your love for dangerous men, you’ve had your share of bad dudes over to this very apartment much to his annoyance. On the flip side, Mingyu does enjoy a good horror movie night, and you provide more than enough of those, especially this past month.

“We’re doing this,” Jeonghan insists, pulling the board out and setting it on the coffee table. “It’s Halloween. If there’s ever a night for this ghost to talk with us, it’s now.”

Seungkwan only groans, taking another shot while Seokmin and Soonyoung exchange worried glances.

“You don’t think the ghost is going to actually like… talk with us, do you?” the man in the tiger onesie asks, playing with his tail nervously. 

“Well, the veil is thinnest on Halloween… I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Jeonghan grins devilishly. 

Five minutes later, candles are set up and Seokmin is sheepishly turning off the lights before joining everyone by the board. 

Mingyu holds back, watching with interest.

“How do we start?” you ask.

“Imma rizz this ghost,” Jeonghan explains, looking around the room. “Is there a presence here with us?”

In the silence, Mingyu can hear an ambulance a few blocks away. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching.

“Don’t we have to touch the Ouija thing?” Seungkwan asks.

“Right.” Jeonghan reaches out only to have his hand slapped away by his friend.

“Not you,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “You’ll rig it.”

Jeonghan sighs. “Fine, I’ll ask the questions, you all touch the planchette.”

It’s almost laughable how reluctant Seokmin is to touch the board, but soon, there are four sets of hands on it while Jeonghan addresses the room again. 

“Come on ghost,” he pleads, “don’t make me look bad, come say hi. If there’s a spirit with us, please move the planchette and tell us.”

Mingyu figures now is as good a time as any to communicate, God knows he’s waited years. With a sigh, Mingyu approaches the board. He crouches down next to you, reaching out. His fingers slip right through the planchette, but when he touches Seokmin, the man shivers.

“You okay?” you ask, looking at your friend.

“It just got really cold,” Seokmin breathes, already turning pale.

Mingyu tries again, this time aiming for Seokmin’s hands. The ghost focuses hard, willing the planchette to move, willing Seokmin’s hands to become his own. 

The small tool begins to shift on the board. 

“Soonyoung, cut it out,” Seungkwan snaps.

“It’s not me!” the tiger insists.

Little by little, the planchette shifts to Yes, and Mingyu lets out a deep breath at the effort it had taken.

“So there is a spirit here with us?” Jeonghan clarifies.

Again, Mingyu moves the planchette, slightly off of Yes then back again, an affirmative.

“I knew it!” Jeonghan practically screams. “Are you the guy who died here?”

Another Yes, and Mingyu’s getting annoyed with the questions already.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

Mingyu’s a little surprised that you’re beginning a line of inquiry, but he’s pleased too. Using Seokmin’s hands, he begins to slowly reveal his name. With each letter, your group reads it out loud.

“M… I… N… G… Y… U… Mingyu?” 

God, Mingyu likes the sound of his name on your lips.

A shift to Yes has the whole room going quiet and Mingyu waits for the next question.

“Okay guys, seriously, who’s doing this?” Seungkwan asks, ever the non-believer. 

“It’s not me!” Seokmin insists, followed by Soonyoung, who even crosses his heart to prove his own innocence.

“Did you really kill those guys?” Jeonghan questions, drawing all eyes.

“You can’t just ask that!” You bat at your friend’s arm.

Mingyu considers his next action, but with a sigh, he reaches for Seokmin’s hands again, using him to push the planchette to Yes. In Mingyu’s eyes, all the men he’d killed deserved it. They’d been predators, and it takes one to know one. Mingyu had simply been the better predator.

“How many people did you kill?”

“Jeonghan,” you say again, harder this time.

“We’re fact-checking!” Jeonghan insists. “If he gives us the wrong number, then someone here is lying.”

Mingyu doesn’t like to be tested like this, but at the same time, he admires the man’s shiftyness. The ghost reaches through Seokmin, pushing the planchette to 5.

Seokmin lets out a gasp, tearing his hands away from the board and leaping to his feet. “Guys, I don’t feel good about this.”

“But it’s just started to get juicy!” Jeonghan tuts. 

“We’re not going to force Seokmin to do this if he doesn’t want to,” you sigh, also removing your hands. “I think this is enough for tonight.”

Jeonghan’s not so easily convinced. “But we just made contact!” 

“It’s almost midnight, I thought you wanted to be at the bar for eleven fifty so your bouncer friend would let you in,” you point out.

“Let me in…” Jeonghan raises a brow. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Honestly?” you sigh. “I’m getting a bit tired.”

“But it’s Halloween!”

“And we’ve already been to one party and just used a Ouija board,” you laugh. “I think I’ve had enough fun.”

“You’re boring!” Jeonghan groans. 

“And you’re crazy!” you retort, heading to turn on the lights. “Say goodbye to your ghost friend, take another shot, and get out of here so I can get some sleep.”

Mingyu likes it when you take charge like this. He stands from the table, coming to join you as you head to the kitchen to get your friends their last shots. He’s always liked sticking close to you, your second ghostly shadow. 

The last tenant had been a guy, and the view had never been very great, but with you around? Mingyu is constantly entertained, in the most perverted ways possible. He’s really enjoying the skimpy outfit you’re wearing, and he can’t wait to watch you take it off. Maybe you’ll have a shower once your friends are gone- you’ll make his night if you do.

“Goodbye,” Seungkwan says loudly, pushing the planchette to the word scrawled in big writing. Mingyu’s not so easily dismissed, but Seokmin lets out a breath of relief as the board is closed and packed up.

You all take one last shot, and Mingyu can practically taste the tequila on his tongue. It’s been forever since he had anything to drink, or eat, or fuck for that matter. 

He misses it every day. 

The ghost hangs back as you hug your friends goodbye, with Jeonghan trying for five minutes to convince you to join the last bar outing. You stay firm, and Mingyu grins to himself when you finally close the door, shutting you in together.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the kitchen, putting the shot glasses and bottles away, then, to Mingyu’s pleasure, you head toward the bathroom. He follows closely, slipping in behind you before you can close the door. As a ghost, Mingyu can walk through walls, but it’s an unpleasant experience, one he avoids when he can.

He watches you turn on the shower, facing the mirror to remove your false eyelashes. You’re so pretty, and when you begin to take off your outfit, Mingyu practically drools. He can stare at your naked body for hours and not get bored, in fact, he has. 

You step into the shower, closing the curtain. Your silhouette is still as beautiful as ever, and Mingyu can feel his cock getting hard as he watches you. Voyeurism is something he’s always enjoyed, even as a human, and now that he’s a ghost, it’s something that makes Mingyu’s undead life go round. 

He palms himself through his jeans, looking for relief but also not wanting to take things too far. Knowing you, he’ll probably get a free show if he waits long enough. Your sex drive rivals even his own, and Mingyu’s nothing if not a good boy who knows how to be patient. 

***

You get out of the shower feeling refreshed. Your blood is still buzzing slightly from the drinks you’ve had, but you feel clear-headed as you wipe the mirror, looking at yourself while you wrap a towel around your naked body.

Your phone dings and you look down at it, reading Jeonghan’s contact name. It’s a text to tell you that your friends have gotten to the bar, and another request for you to join. You can only laugh, setting your phone down just as the clock hits midnight.

There’s movement in the corner of your eye and you turn your head, locking eyes with a tall, dark-haired man standing by the door of your bathroom.

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you immediately grab the closest thing, a hairbrush, hurling it at the man. He doesn’t even try to dodge it, and it hits him square in the chest. His gaze dips down, and he looks completely shocked that you’ve just thrown something at him.

“Get out of my house!” you scream, reaching for the next item-

“Not your expensive moisturizer!” the man yells, holding up both hands and backing up. “How are you going to explain breaking that to Jeonghan?!”

You freeze a little at his words, thoroughly confused. “How- how do you know-” You look down at the bottle of moisturizer that Jeonghan had bought for you last month. “Did Jeonghan put you up to this?!”

“Put the bottle down,” the man says, still holding his hands defensively. 

“You’re some creep in my bathroom!” you retort. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You grab your phone next. “I’m calling 911.”

“God, please don’t,” he sighs.

“Start talking!” you insist.

“I’m not Jeonghan’s friend-”

“Then who the fuck are you, and how did you get into my apartment?!” You lift the moisturizer again, ready to throw it at his face.

“Mingyu!” he belts. “I’m Mingyu!”

“Jeonghan definitely put you up to this,” you declare, feeling something like relief. This is just some prank-

“I’m serious,” the handsome man tells you. “I’m Mingyu-”

“You expect me to believe that you’re the ghost of that serial killer who died here years ago?” you scoff.

“Yeah, it was me with the Ouija,” he tries to explain.

“Prove it,” you insist, still not believing him. 

“You want me to tell you something only a ghost would know?” he laughs. “How about this, I know you hide your sex toys in a box under your bed. I know the last few guys you’ve had over couldn’t make you cum so you’d finish yourself off with your vibrator once they left. I know you still say your first boyfriend’s name whenever you cum, for some stupid reason-”

Your heart is thundering in your chest. There’s no way he can know all of that- no one knows all of that-

Why is everything he’s saying sex related?

An unfamiliar feeling washes over your form. It’s something like fear, but there’s an underlying emotion there too- a tingle between your legs. Is this guy really a ghost? Is he your ghost? Has he been watching you since you moved in?!

“Believe me now?” Mingyu asks. He must have seen the way you’ve faltered, moisturizer bottle lowering to your side.

“How-” You swallow thickly. “How are you here?”

“That’s actually a good question,” Mingyu admits, looking down at his form. “This doesn’t usually happen.” 

“The veil is thinnest on Halloween,” you breathe, remembering what Jeonghan had said earlier. “It’s midnight…”

“Sounds right to me.” The ghost nods. 

“How… how long are you going to be visible for?” you ask, eyes dragging across his large body.

“I don’t know… but, when you threw that brush at me, it hit me.” Mingyu steps toward you and you move back, hitting the wall. “Don’t be scared, I just wanna touch you-”

“As if that makes me feel any better!” You’re frozen as his hand reaches out, fingers coming to gently brush your collarbone. You shiver at the cold contact.

“You.. you felt that!” Mingyu’s eyes widen with shock.

“Are you going to kill me?” you ask.

“What?!” He laughs, moving even closer.

“You’re a serial killer, aren’t you?” This is just your luck.

“I only killed men, guys who were predators.”

“Like you.”

“Like me,” he admits. “But… my brutality never came out toward women.”

The ghost has no right being this beautiful, and he’s saying the right things. You can’t believe you’re actually starting to relax a little. You’ve definitely seen too many horror films-

“You… you’ve been watching me,” you point out.

Your words seem to make him almost bashful, his gaze dipping to the floor. You see his skin flush a pinkish colour and it’s almost endearing. “Uh… yeah.”

“And you were in here while I was having a shower too… You are a bit of a creep, aren’t you?”

“Every other tenant here has been a guy!” Mingyu exclaims. “You’re the first one who’s actually caught my attention.”

“I feel like you’re just horny after years of being alone.”

“You would be too,” he insists. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever -  you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” 

He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu’s perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. 

“Can I…” he swallows thickly. “Can I kiss you?”

You can’t believe you’re actually considering this.

“Come on, please?” Mingyu asks. “I haven’t touched someone in so long, haven’t been touched-” 

A dead serial killer who sort of respects your autonomy and is begging for you? 

“We don’t know how long this is going to last,” he continues. “I need to feel something, need to feel you-” 

“Fucking a ghost wasn’t on my Halloween bingo sheet,” you joke.

“It will be fun,” Mingyu insists. “I know what you like, I know your kinks, I know you, better than all those other guys you’ve fucked so far. Come on, princess, let me make you feel good.” 

It’s kind of creepy that the ghost even knows your preferred pet name, but it sounds so pretty coming from him. 

You weigh the pros and cons. 

Pros: He’s one of the sexiest men you’ve ever seen. He actually wants to make you cum. He already knows your kinks. He might be a touch obsessed with you, which would do wonders for your ego.

Cons: He’s literally a dead serial killer creep who’s been watching you jack off and get fucked for a few months. He could also disappear at any second.

Well, you can’t pass this up, especially since you have no idea how long this will last. And when he’s gone, he’ll stay gone. There are technically no strings, none that you can see at least.

And to top it all off, you’re extremely horny. You’d stayed back from going to the bar with your friends specifically to fuck yourself stupid tonight, and now, you have a ghost willing to get the job done for you.

“Okay, big guy,” you sigh. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second. He grabs your face, cupping his large hand around the back of your skull to pull your lips to his own. 

You’re a little shocked, but you melt into his embrace quickly, pressing your hands to his beefy chest while his tongue licks at your lip, begging for entry. You open your mouth to him, and he kisses you deeper, letting out a low groan as he shifts you in his embrace, grabbing at your hip to pull you closer.

It’s been years since he’s touched anyone, but he kisses with the best of them. 

It’s almost too easy to get lost in Mingyu, your mind going pleasantly blank as you make out with the ghost. 

You’re eating up the sounds he’s making too. His mouth is eager against your own, all tongue and plump lips. It’s clear that your ghost has been very touch-starved. His hand gropes at your waist, toying with the towel still wrapped around your body. 

You can’t help yourself, you reach a hand between your bodies, cupping his cock through his jeans.

Mingyu pants against your lips, breaking the kiss to look down at where you’re touching him. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, pressing his hips forward for more friction.

He’s literally adorable, and so receptive. 

“You’ll take care of me first though, right?” you toy, squeezing your hand tighter around the large bulge in his pants.

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly, nodding. “Been wanting to taste your pussy for fucking months.”

Your core throbs at his words- he’s got a big dick and he likes oral? Your night just keeps getting better.

“Then you should taste me,” you tell him. “I’m even sweeter than I look.”

Mingyu lets out a deep groan, and then he’s sinking to his knees on the bathroom floor. His mouth finds your calf, and his large hands grab at your leg, adjusting it onto his shoulder while his lips ascend to your thigh. 

You lean back against the wall, trying to catch your breath while the large man gets closer and closer to where you need him most.

He reaches up, grabbing at your towel and tugging. In one motion, you’re naked for him, and the cool air of the bathroom has your skin tingling, nipples pebbling with interest.

Mingyu spreads your legs wider, and you can feel his breath on your pussy. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, and then he’s diving in. He’s all tongue, the wet muscle pushing into your hole to taste you while he releases an almost animalistic groan of appreciation.

It’s clear this man is a pussy lover, and you can’t believe he’s gone so long without having his mouth on one. You’re more than happy to make up for the lost time, enjoying the feeling of him pressing his face closer to your wet core, tongue lapping at you while he begins to grind his nose against your clit.

He definitely knows how to eat, and you find yourself closing your eyes, enjoying the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. His hands are on your hips, but one trails up, grasping for your breast. The added stimulation of his thumb and pointer pinching your nipple has you crying out, hips rutting toward his face.

He just feels so good- and when his lips move to suction around your clit, your thigh quakes on his shoulder. “Fuck-” you moan loudly, shocked that it’s been this easy for him to get you to the cusp of an orgasm. 

Most men don’t know how to handle you, but it’s clear that he does. 

You can feel yourself practically dripping, and you’re not sure if it’s pussy juice or the ghost’s drool, but you don’t really care. It’s sinful and sexy and dirty- exactly what Halloween should be. 

Mingyu lets go of your breast, adjusting his hand- two fingers slide into your core while his mouth continues on your clit, and you swear this purgatory-bound sinner has just taken you to heaven. 

You’re a mewling mess now, moans and gasps leaving you uncensored while his thick fingers stretch out your core, pushing in and out while his tongue flicks at your most sensitive spot.

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him, eyes clenched shut as the knot in your stomach is pulled tighter and tighter-

The man between your legs groans in response, driving his fingers into you faster and harder, his mouth making lewd sucking sounds around your clit. 

It’s everything you need to reach your high and you gasp loudly, tangling your fingers in his hair while your orgasm washes over you. Your hips buck against his face, only for his free hand to pin you to the wall, his motions never ceasing while you cry out, your core throbbing around his fingers.

No one has ever eaten you out this good. Your mind is practically blank, body completely overwhelmed with the pleasure surging through you. 

It’s almost too much for you to handle, and you find yourself tugging at Mingyu’s hair, trying to pull him away-

He won’t budge, growling heavily against your core. The vibration makes your legs twitch, and you’re not sure you’ll even be able to stand if he keeps this up-

Finally, Mingyu pulls away. He’s panting hard. His fingers slip out of your pussy only for him to place them in his mouth, sucking them clean while he groans lewdly. “Fuck,” he mumbles, looking up at you with stars in his eyes. “That was so good.”

You can’t even speak yet, too breathless from the mind-numbing orgasm to even think. 

Mingyu stands up, and you have to tilt your head to retain eye contact. God, why’s he so big and fuckable?

“Look at you, princess. You usually have good comebacks.” He leans forward, breath hot against your face. “Ghost got your tongue?”

You can’t help but laugh slightly, and Mingyu grins down at you. Then he’s cupping your cheek again, bringing his lips to yours. You can taste yourself as he kisses you deeply, but you don’t even care. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pressing your boobs against his chest.

You need to be closer to him. Need to feel him, fully.

Mingyu reaches down, grabbing your ass and lifting you off the ground. Your legs wrap around his hips and the ghost carries you through the apartment, gently setting you onto your bed.

He towers over your now and your pussy throbs at the idea of how well he’s about to wreck you.

“You still want me, right?” he asks. “I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

You nod, licking your lips. “I know you will.”

“I’m a good boy,” Mingyu says quietly, eyes dipping down to your core.

“Then be a good boy and take off your shirt, I want to see you.”

He’s quick to comply, tearing off the black fabric to reveal his muscular chest. Your pussy throbs at the sight alone. His arms are huge, biceps bulging deliciously, and his pecs look downright biteable. Then there are his abs-

You sit up, trying to contain yourself. “Pants next.”

“Fuck, princess,” Mingyu groans, already working on his belt. “Has anyone ever told you how fucking perfect you are?”

“You’d know if they had, wouldn’t you, Ghost?” 

“These fucking dudes you have over,” Mingyu clicks his tongue, “none of them have known how to treat you right.”

“But you do?”

“Of course!” he scoffs, pushing his pants and underwear down, revealing the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. “Name one other guy who’s eaten your pussy like I have.”

He knows you too well.

“I should return the favour,” you suggest. 

“Fuck, I’d die all over again if you did.”

You get onto your knees, shuffling closer. You kiss him first, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other moves down to his cock, stroking him gently while he whines against your lips. He ruts his hips, forcing more friction while you grin into the kiss. 

“Needy Ghost,” you laugh.

“Need you so fucking bad,” he agrees. 

“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting, should I?” 

“Please, don’t.”

You begin to kiss down his neck, taking your time as you trail your mouth across his body. You appreciate every centimeter, all the way down his pretty chest and abs. You trace your tongue along his hip bone and the ghost shivers, letting out a shuddery breath. “Holy shit.” 

“You’ll be nice and praise me while I have my mouth full, won’t you, handsome?” You sneak a glance up at him as you take him in your hand, adjusting his cock. 

“Yeah-” He swallows thickly. “I know how much my princess loves being told she’s a good girl.”

“Am I your good girl?” 

“So fucking good,” he nods eagerly. “So fucking good for me I can’t even believe it.”

You smile to yourself, pressing a chaste kiss to the head of his leaking cock that has the Ghost practically whimpering. 

“Fuck, can I- can I grab your hair?”

“Uh huh,” you lick a stripe along the head of his cock, circling it with your tongue while the gorgeous man shivers at the contact. 

“Please don’t tease me,” he begs, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “I don’t- don’t know how much time I have with you, and I’ll die if we spend the whole time teasing and I don’t even get to feel your perfect fucking pussy-”

You wrap your mouth around his cock, agreeing with what he’s saying, and it earns an immediate moan of appreciation from the man towering over you.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good- you feel so fucking good-”

You swirl your tongue around his length, running it along the crease between the head and shaft. Mingyu’s grip tightens in your hair as more breathy moans spill from his lips. 

He’s much too big to fit in your mouth, so you pump what you can’t reach, using your saliva as lube to make stroking easier while you suck on him. Your eyes are closed, mind focused on pleasuring him the way he’d just pleasured you in the bathroom.

It feels good to be giving something back to him, especially as praises and words of encouragement fill the room. “Just like that, just like that, holy shit-”

You take him as deep as you can go, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, which constricts around him.

“Oh my god-” he practically whimpers, fingers flexing in your hair. “Please let me fuck your face, please, I want it so bad-”

You make a sound of affirmation and that’s all it takes for Mingyu to release a low groan, pushing his hips forward. He hits the back of your throat again and you do your best to clear your mind, focusing on anything but the gagging sensation as he begins to use your mouth for his own pleasure.

“Holy shit, good girl, good fucking girl-” he moans, quickening his pace. His grip on your head keeps you where he wants you, and it’s clear he’s being cognizant of not making you gag too hard. He seems to know your boundary, know just what to do without making it too much.

“Fuck, it’s too good- you’re too fucking good at this, princess,” Mingyu pants. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum but I promise I’ll still fuck you, I promise my recharge time is quick-”

You suction your cheeks harder around him and Mingyu practically cries out, grip tightening in your hair so hard it almost hurts. He’s a garbled mess of swear words now, and a few thrusts later he’s cumming down your throat, releasing the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard while his hips shudder with effort.

“Holy shit, good girl, good girl-” he groans, motions slowing as he cums rope after rope- “Taking me so fucking well, oh my god-” 

Mingyu pulls out of your mouth, breathing hard. He looks down at you while you also take a few deep breaths. 

It’s the oddest thing. His cum hadn’t tasted like anything. There was no salt or musk- it was just… different. You suppose he’s a ghost, so that could account for the lack of flavour, and you almost prefer it that way. 

“That was so good,” Mingyu tells you. “You’re good, right?” 

You nod, pulling away from him to fall back against the bed again. “I’m perfect.”

“Yeah, you are,” the ghost laughs. 

“So are you going to make me cum again, or…?” you cock your head to the side, assessing him.

He’s still trying to catch his breath, cheeks all flushed, hair a tangle of dark curls. He looks beautiful.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mingyu grins, and the smile lights up his whole face. “I know you probably want two or three more, you’re insatiable like that, aren’t you, princess?”

“I guess it takes one to know one,” you laugh. “I bet you usually cum two or more times watching me, don’t you, Ghost boy?”

“Guilty.” He runs his fingers through his wild hair. “But my hand is nothing compared to you.”

“Funny, my hand is nothing compared to you either.”

“Match made in heaven,” Mingyu muses, getting onto the bed to join you while you wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him in for another breathtaking kiss.

He slots so well between your legs, one hand pressed to the bed while the other comes up to massage your breast. You moan against his lips, arching your back, wanting more. His thumb brushes over your nipple and then he’s pinching it, making you cry out.

“You like a little pain, don’t you, princess?” he grins, looking down at you.

“A little,” you admit.

“You know…” his hand moves up from your breast, teasing over your collarbone, “sometimes, when you’re trying to make yourself cum, and you choke yourself- it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Oh yeah?” You grab his hand, guiding it to your throat. 

In the back of your mind, you remember that this hot ghost is also a killer- but his hands are shockingly soft and gentle as he squeezes your neck. 

“Fuck, you look gorgeous,” he groans.

“Tighter,” you tell him, stroking his forearm while the muscles move beneath the skin, his hand pressing harder onto your airway.

You let out a small whimper, closing your eyes and enjoying the lightheaded feeling. 

“Ready for my fingers again?” he asks.

“Want your cock.”

“Fingers first,” he insists, letting go of your throat so he can trail his hand down your body until he’s cupping your pussy. You buck against his hand and he grins. “So eager.”

“Be a good boy and make princess cum again,” you tell him.

It’s an interesting kink for him to have - the whole good boy angle -  you would have thought a man like him would be a full dom, but you kind of enjoy this switchy side. It allows you to tell him what to do, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy holding a lot of the power in this interaction.

Two of his fingers slip into your core and you both groan at the feeling. “Still so fucking wet,” the ghost muses. “Did sucking me off turn you on that much?”

“I like the sounds you make,” you admit, rocking your hips against his hand while he palms your clit.

“Yeah?” His grin widens. 

“You’re my perfect puppy,” you sigh happily as he finger fucks you even harder. 

Mingyu reacts to the new petname with a low groan and you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his lips to your own. You love the way his tongue invades your mouth, teasing and tasting but not dominating. 

His fingers continue to stretch you out, his palm a constant pressure on your clit. You can’t fucking wait to take his cock, and it’s just one orgasm away. 

You break the kiss to move your mouth to his neck, loving the whimpery sounds of appreciation that leave him as you begin sucking on his skin. There’s no reason not to leave marks, so you go as hard as you want, teasing your teeth over his jugular while it bounces with effort.

“Fuck, fuck-” Mingyu groans loudly, clearly enjoying the attention being paid to his pretty throat.

You can feel your core beginning to throb, your pussy tightening as another orgasm approaches, doing its best to keep Mingyu’s fingers buried knuckle deep even as he drives them into you rougher and rougher.

“Are you gonna cum again?” Mingyu asks, breathless. “Please tell me you’re gonna cum again.”

You can feel his cock, hard and pressed to your leg, leaking from how turned on he is while he finger fucks you and you kiss his throat. He’s so easy to make come undone. It boosts your ego like nothing else, and your pussy pulses with desire.

“I’m close,” you tell him, licking at his throat and making your way to his ear. “Be a good boy and make me cum.”

Mingyu groans loudly, and then he’s suddenly pulling away from you, moving down the bed to get between your legs again. His fingers don’t stop inside of you, but his free hand pushes your thigh up, giving him more space as he brings his lips to your clit.

“Holy shit-” you groan, threading your fingers through his hair and letting your head loll back against the pillows. You hadn’t thought you’d get his mouth on you like this again- but you suppose you had commanded him to make you cum, and this position is a tried and true winner. 

You can’t even tell him you’re about to cum, he simply tears it out of you. Your back arches off the bed, a sinful whine escaping your lips while your thighs quiver, pussy clamping down on his fingers, your clit throbbing desperately. Mingyu lets out a growl, slurping hard at the sensitive bud, and it brings tears to your eyes at how good it feels.

You feel like you’re the ghost now, your soul practically leaving your body while Mingyu works you through another one of the most intense orgasms of your entire life.

When he finally pulls away from your core, you can’t even open your eyes. You can only lay there, trying to catch your breath while the bed dips under his weight. You feel his hands digging into the pillows on either side of your head, and then something brushes by your nose.

You open your eyes to find Mingyu staring down at you, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against your own. “You good, princess?”

“I’m perfect,” you tell him, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer.

You catch his cock between your bodies and a moan leaves you at how big he feels. 

“Ready for more?” he asks.

You can only nod, grabbing at his shoulders to drag him into a kiss. It’s almost relaxing to take a minute to just kiss him, mind blank, body still tingling in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Then Mingyu begins to rut his hips, dragging his cock through your pussy lips and making you groan when he bumps your clit.

You’re the one who reaches between your bodies, grabbing his dick to line it up with your core.

Mingyu watches you carefully and you give him a small nod. “Do it,” you tell him. “Fuck me stupid.”

He only laughs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes into you. Your pussy swallows him inch by inch, with you clawing at his shoulders when he’s finally all the way in. 

You’ve never felt anything like Mingyu- he stretches you out in a way that most men can only dream of. You feel small, fragile, needy- almost like a virgin again, and the way he’s kissing you eagerly definitely brings back memories of first times. 

He begins to thrust gently, allowing your body time to adjust to his massive size. You’re a little shocked at how easy the glide of it is, but you suppose you’re wetter than you’ve ever been after having cum so hard twice. It feels absolutely all-consuming. His cock is practically all you can think about as you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him deeper.

Mingyu is groaning into your mouth, and the sounds fuel your entire body with even more lust. You trail one hand down his back, enjoying the way it makes him shiver. 

“Do I feel good, Gyu?” you ask.

“You feel perfect,” he tells you, burying his face against your throat. His mouth is hot as he leaves wet kisses there, his hips moving even faster. “So fucking good. Better than I ever imagined.”

“You’ve imagined me a lot, haven’t you, big guy?”

“So many times-” he admits. “Never thought… never thought I’d actually get to fuck you like this.”

“Just wait till you make me cum while buried inside of me,” you grin, tilting your head so he can press fevered kisses to your jaw while groaning loudly. 

“Fuck-” One of his hands moves to your hip, keeping you pinned. He’s fucking you so hard now that the bed is rocking, but you can’t bring yourself to care about neighbors. “Wait, flip around for me, I know you go wild for doggy.”

God, it’s so easy with him. 

He has you on your knees in seconds, large hands cupping your hips to adjust your ass higher as he slips back inside of you. This new position makes him feel even bigger, if that’s possible, and it makes your toes curl. 

With each hard snap of his hips, your ass slaps back against his front. The sound of skin on skin mixed with his moans is doing something crazy to you- you’re completely consumed by him. There’s not a thought in your head other than “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, harder Gyu, harder!”

He’s more than willing to comply, railing you like you’ve never been railed before.

You can feel fluids beginning to drip down your legs, that’s how wet you are. Stroke game has never been this easy.

Then he reaches around your front, leaning over your back so he can access your clit. You cry out from the stimulation, core clenching deliciously around the large intrusion. “Holy shit-” you whimper.

“Can you cum for me again, princess?” Mingyu asks, breath hot against your shoulders. 

“Are you close?” you gasp, feeling another orgasm building achingly fast.

“Yeah, but I want at least one more out of you,” the ghost says. “It’s Halloween, you deserve it.”

“I deserve it?” you nearly laugh, but the giggle is quick to turn into a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit.

“Yeah, of course you deserve it. You’re being so good for me, so fucking good-”

The praise goes straight to your pussy and you tangle your hands in the sheets. “Gyu-”

“That’s it, please, princess, wanna feel you cum.” He digs his fingers into your hip, drawing consistent circles on your clit. He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good, and you wonder how many times he’s watched you make yourself cum like this.

“That’s it,” Mingyu groans. “Fuck you feel amazing. Come on, cum for me. Come on, pretty girl.”

Your body twitches and you let out a gasp, tensing before your release hits you straight on. Your eyes clench shut as your pussy clamps down on his cock, a strangled moan escaping you as pleasure surges through you. Your mind practically short circuits, your brain blank except for the pure ecstasy he’s providing. 

Mingyu lets out a loud groan, panting harder as he fucks you through your high. He pulls his hand away from your clit in favour of grabbing your hips again, pushing his entire cock into your aching hole over and over again.

“Just like that, just like that-” he tells you. “Fuck, you’re literally dripping, holy shit-”

You don’t even care that your bed sheets are going to be ruined after this- all you care about is the man behind you fucking you like it’s his last night on earth. To be fair, it just might be.

“Good princess,” Mingyu breathes. “So good for me.”

“Gyu-” you whimper trying to push yourself up onto your hands. You rut your hips back to meet his thrusts and he lets out another guttural moan of appreciation. “I wanna ride you till you cum.”

You think he deserves it. 

In fact, you know he deserves it.

This man has made you cum three times already, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try to return the favor. 

“You wanna ride me?” Mingyu stops with his cock fully inside of you, and his hand smooths down your back. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, pushing back against him in an attempt to get him even deeper. “Bet you miss being ridden, don’t you, big guy?”

He lets out a groan, and then he’s removing his cock from your core, practically pouncing onto the bed next to you. He grabs your hips, helping you straddle him. While you reach between your bodies to grab his cock and line it up with your core, he slips a hand around the back of your skull, pulling your lips down to meet yours.

The ghost is grinning into the kiss and it’s almost laughable how excited he is. 

You sink down onto his length and you both release loud moans into each other’s mouths. 

It feels so good to be filled up like this. You begin by grinding against him, adjusting to his size. You can feel him so deep, all the way in the pit of your stomach.

He grabs at your thighs then your boobs, and you can tell he’s having difficulty deciding which parts of you he wants to worship. Then he takes a fistful of your ass, squeezing rough enough to have you whimpering while his tongue invades your mouth.

You begin to ride him, bracing your hands against his chest.

Mingyu is just so big- the sexiest man you’ve ever fucked and there’s no contest in that.

He’s so good at kissing too, moaning into it while you pick up the speed of your thrusts. 

He grabs your hips, helping you bounce up and down. Each movement fills you up deliciously, your drenched core swallowing him up like you were made for this.

You pull away from his lips, straightening while you ride him. Mingyu takes the opportunity to grab your breasts, kneading them in his hands while his thumbs tease your nipples. You cover his hand with one of your own, urging him to squeeze harder. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty,” Mingyu groans, hips thrusting up to meet you.

His cock is hitting even deeper now, and you swear no one has ever been this deep inside of you before. There’s literally nothing in the world like Mingyu… or his cock. 

“Look at you taking all of me,” he continues, cheeks flushed pink, breath hot. “I always knew you’d be able to- always knew you’d be a fucking champ in bed.”

You want to tell him he’s one to talk, but it seems the ghost has got your tongue again. All you can do is moan lewdly, riding him harder and ignoring the burn of your thighs.

Mingyu sits up, leaning forward to take your breast into his mouth. His tongue flicks by your nipple and you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him to your chest. He groans deeply as you pull on his hair, teeth grazing the sensitive bud caught between his lips.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, core clenching tight around his cock.

The ghost pants loudly, giving your breast one last kiss before he flops down onto his back again. “You close?” he asks, reaching out so his thumb can find your clit, rubbing it.

“Fuck, yeah- if you keep doing that, yeah, I’m close-” you nod, clawing at his chest.

“I need you to cum with me,” Mingyu tells you. “Want us to cum together.”

“Me too, me too-” you assure him, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his cock filling you up perfectly while his thumb works harder on your clit.

“Want you on top,” the ghost continues, “but I want to take over. Can you rub yourself for me?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, leaning over him so you can press your lips to his own. Your hand sneaks between your legs, and you hover over him, thrusts coming to a stop while he gets a grip on your hips.

His tongue battles your own as he begins to piston up into you- God, it feels even better when he’s the one fucking you from below. All you have to do is hold yourself over him with one shaky arm while your fingers work on your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Oh my god-” you mumble against his mouth, and it only makes him smile, rutting up into you even faster. 

“I can’t-” he breaks the kiss to burry his face against your throat, “I can’t hold off much longer, please tell me you’re gonna cum with me, please-”

“I will!” you whine. “I’m so close-”

His mouth is hot against your neck and he sucks on your sweet spot, making you cry out. He groans loudly at the way your core tightens around his massive cock. Then he’s pulling away from your throat, wrapping a hand around it instead.

“Look at me,” he instructs. “Want to watch you cum.”

You force your eyes open, gasping as he tightens his grip on your neck. You’re so fucking close you can almost taste it. 

His other arm adjusts, palm snaking up your back as he fucks up into you wildly.

“Can I give you a countdown?” he asks.

You nod enthusiastically. He’s choking you too hard to answer. Your blood is rushing to your head and your pussy, body practically on fire-

“Three-” he moans loudly, staring up at you with dark eyes. “Two-” a small grunt leaves his lips, fingers digging into your back. “One! Cum with me- please, fuck, cum with me!” 

You let out a gasp, all the tension in your body snapping like the cord in your stomach. Pleasure washes over you, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. It’s better than the first three orgasms if that’s even possible, and if it weren’t for the tight grip on your neck cutting off most of your sounds, you’re sure you’d be screaming.

Mingyu’s deep groans are only making you more turned on as your core throbs around his cock. He’s still fucking you, but soon the pleasure seems to be even too much for him. He drags you fully against his chest, burying himself completely in your pussy while he fills you up with his cum. 

He releases your throat in favor of smashing his lips against your own, tongue running against your teeth while he groans loudly. You whimper into the kiss, pussy still pulsing around him.

This has to be one of the longest orgasms you’ve ever had- and with his massive cock still buried inside of you, your pussy gets practically no reprieve. All you can do is gasp and whimper against his lips while your body struggles to process the insane amount of pleasure that’s still coursing through you.

Mingyu lets out a laugh, resting down against the pillows and looking up at you. “Was that good?” he asks. 

You can only shake your head at him, letting out a small chuckle as the last of your orgasm wafts through you like a warm summer breeze. 

“Yeah,” his hand smooths up and down your back, “it was good for me too.”

“You literally just ruined me for anyone else.”

“That was the goal, princess.” He grins.

“You’re so bad.”

“Obviously you have a thing for bad boys.”

“And ghosts, apparently.” You’re still coming to terms with what you’ve just done. Part of you wonders if this is just some crazy dream.

“Just me though, right?” He kisses you gently and it leaves you wanting more.

“For now, but if I meet another ghost with a huge cock, maybe that will change,” you tease.

Mingyu sighs, shaking his head at you. “We should probably get you cleaned up, then… can we cuddle? I’m still not sure how long you’ll be able to see me, and… I think ending the night holding you would be nice.”

A ghost who loves eating pussy, made you cum four times, has a massive cock, and wants to spoil you with some aftercare-

You’re for sure ruined for any other guy you meet and you know it. 

It sucks to have to get off of Mingyu’s dick, and your legs hurt, but he helps you to the bathroom with a shit-eating grin. “Never seen you walk like this after being fucked,” he muses.

“No one’s fucked me like you just did and you know it,” you laugh. 

He gives you a bit of privacy while you pee and get all the cum off of you, but he joins you when you begin to brush your teeth. Mingyu stands behind you, hands finding your hips, eyes locked on yours through the mirror. 

“Tomorrow, when you get ready for bed, imagine me right here,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder. 

“Yeah?” You press your ass back against him. “Is this usually where you stand while I brush my teeth?”

“Uh huh.” His hands move from your hips to grab onto your tits, squeezing them. “Gonna miss being able to touch you.”

You frown a little at his words, spitting into the sink before turning in his arms. “I’m gonna miss you too, Gyu.”

“Really?” He grins. “So no more fucking randoms?”

You laugh. “Do you expect me to wait a whole nother year just to get railed again?”

“I guess that does sound impossible,” Mingyu sighs. “Just know that any guy you do bring over… I’ll be watching.”

“And judging, I bet.” He’s so obsessed with you that it hurts. 

“Always.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask. “Waiting for a whole year before you can fuck me again?”

“You know what I’m going to do,” he grins. “Every time you touch yourself, I’ll be touching myself too.”

God, this is going to take masturbation to a whole new level.

“Do you…” you swallow. “If I got Jeonghan’s ouija board, do you think you could communicate with me through it? I mean… you’ve never thrown books around or done anything like this before so-”

“Maybe,” Mingyu cocks his head to the side. “I kind of had to use Seokmin’s hands as my own tonight, but, I could try it with just you. But you can’t expect to ask a question and have the wooden thing move to an answer on its own.” 

“Okay, noted.” You let out a sigh. “Now come to bed with me, puppy. I need a good cuddle.”

He lets you take his hand, guiding him back to your room where he joins you under your duvet. 

Mingyu is quick to adjust you as his little spoon, pulling you tight to his chest. One arm is secured under your head as a mock pillow, and the other hand cups your breast. His breath is hot against your neck.

“Would it be too soon to say I love you?” he asks suddenly.

You can only laugh. You’ve just met him tonight, but you suppose he’s been watching you for months at this point. You can only imagine how much he’s pined for you by this point. 

“You can say it, but I can’t return the sentiment, not now at least,” you admit.

“That’s okay, Ghost romances are usually one-sided anyways, or so I would imagine.” 

You can only laugh, enjoying the feeling of his body wrapped around yours.

“You won’t be here in the morning,” you muse sadly.

“I mean, I’ll be here, but you won’t be able to see me.”

“Do ghosts sleep?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Where do you usually sleep?”

“On the couch.”

“Well, from now on, I give you permission to sleep here with me.”

“Really?” He squeezes your breast.

“Of course. This is going to sound crazy, but… I can even say goodnight to you, although you won’t be able to say it back.”

“I’ll say it back,” Mingyu assures you. “You’ll just have to imagine it.”

“I can do that.”

“Gonna have to imagine a lot of things.” 

You know that a relationship with a ghost isn’t a long-term plan. You know that things can’t really go anywhere with him- but at the same time, there’s almost a peace that comes with having your very own personal spirit who’s in love with you and restricted to your apartment.

“You’re tired, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His breath is comforting against the nape of your neck.

“Exhausted.”

“Then you should get some sleep.”

“You don’t want me to stay up? Don’t want to enjoy every second we have together?” 

“I always enjoy every second we have together,” he laughs. “Something tells me this touching thing isn’t going to last much longer, and I want you to fall asleep in my arms, even if it’s only once.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

“Goodnight, princess.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I love you.”

It’s the last words you hear from him as you drift off to sleep, your body succumbing to the exhaustion of four orgasms. 

When you wake up the next morning, your bed is empty, but you know you’re not alone.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I hope I didn't scare anyone off with the serial killer tag, can we all agree this is a soft boy? "what about the people he murdered?" "what murder???"

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. It has to be close to midnight now- it has to be- “I need you now,” you whine, moving your hand from your clit to grab the sheets. “We’ve both been so good this year, this is so unfair-” You’re horny, but you’re sad too, frustrated, desperate, annoyed- There’s no way you can make yourself cum while up in your head like this and you know it. Letting out a groan of defeat, you tear your hand from between your legs- only for it to be caught in a vice grip. Your eyes flash open, heart thundering in your ribcage. Mingyu is kneeling at the foot of the bed, and you watch as he brings your wet fingers to his mouth, licking them clean and letting out an absolutely guttural groan.

cw/ tw. masturbation, oral (f receiving), multiple reader orgasms, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, cock warming, bulge kink, deep kink, serial killer/ghost Mingyu, switch Mingyu, hand job, big dick Mingyu, fingering, mentions of suicide, recording sex with a phone, boob worship, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess, good girl. (his) good boy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

Part of you wishes you’d never told Jeonghan about Mingyu because your friend has become absolutely obsessed with communicating with your apartment ghost. In the year since you last saw Mingyu, there hasn’t been one hangout at your place that didn’t include Jeonghan whipping out the Ouija board.

“We should do another shot,” Jeonghan tells you, sitting on the couch and toying with the planchette.

“It’s almost midnight, I really think you should be heading home,” you sigh. Seokmin, Soonyoung and Seungkwan have the decency to have left half an hour ago, but they’ve never been that excited about your ghost adventures.

“You won’t even let me meet the guy?” Jeonghan whines. “Come on, let's ask Mingyu if he wants to meet me!”

He places the planchette on the board, and it immediately moves to Yes. Sometimes you think Jeonghan’s moving it himself, using your ghost roommate to further his own wants and needs. 

“I’m pretty sure Mingyu will want to spend the full-time slot with me alone,” you insist. 

The planchette moves to No and you roll your eyes while Jeonghan grins at you.

“Give me that!” You take the wooden tool from his hands, setting it on the board. “Mingyu, do you want Jeonghan to leave?”

You feel the familiar cold tingle in your hands, and without adding any pressure yourself, the planchette moves to the word Yes. 

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[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper!reader x undercover bodyguard!bucky)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[reiderwriter]

✍️Introduction and Masterlist✍️

About me: Hi! I'm Kacie, I'm 21, and I use she/her/any pronouns. I'm from the UK but I'm currently an English Teacher in South Korea (if you want to know more I'm totally open to conversations about it!) and this is my side blog, so I follow and respond to comments from @studykac

Writing: At this point in time. I only write for Spencer Reid. I will pass on any requests that focus on other characters because I don't currently write for them. A lot of my work is also NSFW. If you are under the age of 18, do NOT interact with any of my posts that are tagged #maturereiding - please block this tag!! When my requests are open you can request through the Ask box, or through DMs, but please keep in mind I do have a full time job, so I will do my best to get things out quickly. You can find my recommendations in the tag #reiderrecommends!

Other interests: kpop, especially Seventeen, SHINee, NCT and BTS, Criminal Minds (obv), NCIS, reading any genre of books (here's a link for my GoodReads page), Percy Jackson, languages (learning Korean currently!), English Literature, Jane Austen etc.

Requests are: CLOSED - find my request guidelines here!

Writing:

Spencer Reid x Reader NSFW

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress // 3.8k

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress pt. 2 // 2.4K

Summary: After a hot encounter in your car, Spencer pulls you inside your apartment hoping to give you some more relief from the heat.

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, soft Dom, oral (M receiving), pet names, degradation, face fucking, messy sex, creampie, breeding kink

Margaritas and Mistakes // Part 1 // Part 2

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, heavy petting, hickeys, making out, mentions of arousal etc. (part one)

Show You What Devotion Is ❤️‍🔥

Summary: After a lustful encounter on the jet, you and Spencer decide to try out a friends-with-benefits relationship. What you didn't expect was for his sex drive to be so high, and your need for him to overpower your ability to function properly.

Warnings: So many, check the post for details.

More Than Words 🫶 // 8k

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, you're forced to ask your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

The Us That Could've Been 💔 // 5.7k

Summary: They say to get over a man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't sure why the idea of you doing just that makes him feel so bad.

Warnings: angst, unprotected sex, creampie, spoilers for season 8, mentions of Maeve, Spencer is emotionally illiterate etc.

Unhappy Holidays 👻🦃🎄🎆// 5k

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Flirting with the FBI // 7.1k

Summary: To catch a killer, you have to first out him on the FBI's radar. By hacking their systems and flirting with Spencer Reid, of course.

Warnings: Rough sex, Dom Spencer, bimbofication, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, use of slut and good girl, more in the fic warnings.

Spencer Reid x Reader SFW

The Lightbulb Moment // 4.8k

Summary: You want Spencer all to yourself for the first few months of your relationship and he's only too happy to comply. Unfortunately, you're two dumbasses who can't keep their hands off one another.

Just Hanging Out // 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

(Not smut but highly suggestive, read at your own discretion).

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy? // 2k

Summary: You're a teacher, and you have to call in one of your students' parents to talk about their recent troubling behaviour. It's more embarrassing than you thought when Spencer Reid shows up.

Series

That's What You Get // complete 💕

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise that one of the sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs Reid.

Genres: Fluff, smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters, happy ending.

Playlist: Me and You in 2024

Summary: One song fic a week throughout 2024!

Genres: Various, check individual chapters for specific warnings!♡

Answered Requests

(NSFW) Request inspired by Taylor Swift's False God 🙏// 2.2k

(NSFW) Request for a soft!Dom Spencer with cockwarming and breeding kink 💕 // 2k words

(NSFW) Request for Reader introducing vanilla!Spencer to a BDSM lifestyle ✨// 0.7k words

(SFW) Request for Reader kidnapped by unsub and saved by Spencer 💕 // 2.2k

(SFW) Request for pregnant Reader and Spencer who is an absolute fool for her 🌸 // 1.2k

(SFW) Request for shamelessly flirting with an oblivious Spencer 😊// 2k

(NSFW) Request for post-Maeve Spencer who uses sex as a coping mechanism 🫡//4.6k

(NSFW) Request for alt!sub!Reader meeting the team for the first time (and they totally think she's the Dom) 🤭// 1.5k

(NSFW) Request for CNC office sex with Spencer 🚫// 1k

(SFW) Request for Spencer finding out you knew Emily was alive 😿// 0.7k

(SFW) Request for training session with Spencer 🤼‍♀️// 1.8k

(SFW) Request for I Can See You inspired angst 🥺// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer making the reader beg for it ❤️‍🔥// 1.6k

(NSFW) Request for CNC with soft!Dom Spencer - shower sex 💦// 1.3k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - Professor Reid doesn't know he's distracting the class 👓// 3k

(NSFW) Request for Sub!Spencer begging reader to dominate him 🫣// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for Genophobic virgin!Reader ❤️‍🩹// 5k

(NSFW) Request for Professor Spencer with a jealous gf 🐺//2k

(SFW) Request for reader helping Spencer through recovery 🤕// 1k

(NSFW) Request for possessive Spencer reacting to your little black dress 💃// 2.5k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - Undercover with an "excited" Spencer 🕵‍♂️// 3.6k

(SFW) Request for playing video games with Spencer 🎮// 1k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - munch! Spencer is obsessed with you 👅// 2k

(SFW) Request for Spencer babying an oblivious reader 👶// 2k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - sharing a cold bed with Frenemy Spencer 🛌// 3.5k

(NSFW) Request for reader being distracted while Spencer is reading 📚// 1k

(NSFW) Request for Pillow fort sex with Spencer ⛺️// 2k

(NSFW) Request for car confession and oral with Spencer 🚗// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for dancing the night away with Spencer 💃// 2.5k

(NSFW) Request for the morning after Spencer loses his V-Card 😶// 0.7k

(NSFW) Request for reader confessing to Spencer when he's in his anthrax shower 🚿// 0.7k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer finding readers unusual sensitive area 🤝// 3.5k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer and Hotch!Reader secret relationship 🤐// 6k

(SFW) Request for reader being jealous of Spencer and Lila 🤽‍♀️// 2.1k

(NSFW) Request for gun kink 🔫//3k

(SFW) Request for Shy! Spencer and Flirty!Reader 🫣 // 2.3k

[2soulscollide]

my favorite free tools for writers

hello, hello! hope you're doing well.

today i am bringing you another list with my top 3 favorite (free!) tools that I find helpful for each phase of writing a novel.

brainstorming phase

Fantasy Names Generator - not only for fantasy (you can also generate real names). this website is just... amazing! it helps you come up with names for characters, places and locations, descriptions, generate traits, outfits (yes, outfits!!), and probably something else you could ever think of.

The Story's Hack - this one is so cool! you can generate names for everything, create your own generator, and practice writing through writing exercises! plus, you can save your generated names to see later, and you earn coins for each idea generated (you can later buy themes - dark, snow, forest, etc)

RanGen - my last favorite generator on this list is RanGen! you can generate plots, appearances, archetypes, love interests, cities, worlds, items, and more.

developing the idea phase

Bryn Donovan - in this blog you can find master lists under the tag "master lists for writers". it is so helpful when you first start developing the characters and need to find the right words to describe them and to find some quirks and flaws!

Writers Write (350 character traits) - again, this is so helpful!

Story Planner - ah, the number of times I've talked about this website... please, PLEASE take a look at it, you won't regret it. this website has literally everything you need to fully develop your idea with outlines for you to fill in step by step.

writing phase

Colleen Houck (80+ barriers to love) - need more romace conflict? there you go!

Cheat Sheets for Writing Body Language - so, you know how your character's feeling, but don't know how he'd physically act? check out this list!

Describing Words - honestly, this is a lifesaver. don't you struggle to find the right word to describe something? well, with this website all you have to do is to type the object you're trying to describe and see which description fits better to you!

revising phase

Language Tool for Google Docs - i know we all have heard about google docs before, but the truth is, it's almost impossible to find free softwares to check grammar and spelling. so, google docs is useful, because it automatically revises it for us, and it's completely free. plus, you can add adds-on, such as "language tool".

Unfortunately, there's only one (free) tool that I actually enjoy for the revising phase. if you know some others, please let me know so that I can try them out and feature in this list.

exporting phase

Google Docs - i find google docs very easy to format and export to .epub, so i'd recommend using it as a free tool.

Reedsy - this is also a free tool available online. all you have to do is to write down each chapter (copy and paste) or import your word document. it will format the document to your liking and export it to pdf, epub and mobi.

that's everything for now! i hope this post was somehow helpful or inspiring!

if you want to see more master lists full of resources, check these:

WEBSITES FOR WRITERS {masterpost}

BEST accounts to follow as a writer

BEST SITES & SOFTWARES TO WRITE FICTION

DIALOGUE IDEAS TO GET RID OF THAT WRITING BLOCK (masterpost)

Useful Resources & Tips for Writers

also, if you are a notion lover just like me, check the free template I just released with everything you need to develop and write your novel!

thank you so much for reading! hope to see you around, and have a nice day <3

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 1

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 1

Word Count: 4145

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Special Warning 2 : I advise reading the introductory chapters first, as they give a sense of the story, introduce characters and locations and, this chapter starts off immediately after the Sanji chapter. Your first interaction with Law is in those chapters! If you don't want to read the other characters, I recommend reading, at least, Law's Chapter since it's their first interaction!

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: First chapter of Law's story! I'm already writting chapter 4 so I think it's safe to start posting this. I'll try to update regularly, but life usualy kicks my butt so I'm aiming for one chapter per week (though this can change!) Also, this story is more sugestive than Ace's was, since reader has slight kinks (described in tags) that will influence the story. Read the tags, people, they're important! I guess this is it. Have fun!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Chapter 2|

The ride home is uneventful. You have come out empty-handed from your job hunt and, as your car drives by the clinic, you remember that there is still a very serious conversation to be had with your father about his surgery. He has to have the surgery as it will improve his lifestyle. 

Shanks is eating chips straight from the bag as he screams something at the players of a football game on the TV when you arrive. That is all fine. Except his posture, however, makes your eyes twitch. He's completely hunched over, and every time something exciting happens in the game, he jumps, throwing his back as if he doesn't have an injury on it. 

You bang the front door especially hard just to get his attention - he hates when you do that - but he simply yells an angry ‘careful, bug!’ without tearing his eyes from the television. Sighing, you enter the living room and place your body in front of the TV. 

“Hey! My game!” He yells, hands in the air and another jolt to his back. 

“Dad! Your back! You want to throw it out again?” You cross your arms in defiance, moving your body as he moves his head, blocking his view even as he tries to see behind you. 

“Bug, I'm being careful.” He whines, clearly more interested in what’s going on behind you. 

“I'm going to set up an appointment with Dr. Law. We are going to schedule the intervention and you are going to get surgery. But first, you will speak with him and get all your fears and worries out of the way. He seems very competent. You're in great hands. Do you agree?” Stomping your foot down, you raise your eyebrow at him. 

“Can I have some time to think about-...”

“Not if you want to see the game!”

Shanks grunts and falls against the back of the couch. 

“And don't make those sudden movements! You'll throw your back out!”

“Fineeeee!” He drags the ‘e’ so much that he sounds like an exasperated child. “Schedule the appointment.” A heavy sigh parts his lips. “Now get out of the way, bug.” You remain stoic, eyebrows raised even higher now. “Please?” He begs as he sits very straight on the couch. 

At that you nod in satisfaction, turning to leave the room and already dialling the clinic’s number to schedule an appointment at Law's earliest convenience. 

-*-

Unfortunately Law's schedule is not the same as your father’s, and there will be about a week where their schedules conflict. So, after speaking with your father and assessing his fears and worries, you decide to go alone to this appointment and see where it gets you. 

Does it seem silly that you are looking for the cutest dress to wear to the appointment? Maybe. But Law is freaking eye candy. How can you not want to look good and maybe catch his eye? And the only other thing he saw you in was torn clothes, so this time you want to be presentable. 

Besides, you can't stop thinking about those tattoos… Just how many does he have? How far down do they go? 

Sighing you deem yourself ready. Your father is with his neighbour and friend Benn Beckman, helping him around his property, so you pray your car works, pat it nicely, like your father told you to, and off you go.

Once you enter the clinic, Kaya is ready for you with a wide smile. You can't help but smile back at her, even though you know she is going to tease you about Law. 

“Good morning, Kaya. How are you today?”

She sing-songs your name as she pulls your father's file from the archive on the computer. “I'm doing very well, thank you. Just getting ready for another chapter of my novel!”

You arch an eyebrow, an intrigued smile on your lips. “Oh? What are you reading?”

Kaya giggles with a hand covering her mouth. “A romantic novel about a young doctor who falls in love at first sight with a patient's daughter. It takes her a bit longer to realise he's the love of her life, but she's getting there.”

The unamused look on your face only makes her giggle more. “That's not funny, Kaya.”

“It is to me! I have a bet going on with Shachi and Penguin. It's about you two, but I'm not going to tell you what it is. I have a lot of money riding on this thing, Usopp would kill me.”

As she fills you in about who Usopp is, and you lean on the counter, engrossed in your conversation, you don't sense someone approaching. 

“Nurse Kaya, you are paid to do your job. That does not include idle chitter-chatter with patients. I was calling you so you could let Mr. S. in.” He says your name and his low voice makes it sound like the most beautiful word in the world. “Good morning. I hope you're feeling well.”

“I-... Hmm, hmm!” You cringe internally and hiss through your pursed lips. A college graduation and a master's degree and this is the best you can do? Shit. 

Spying the hint of that sexy smirk he showed you last time, he glances around the waiting room. “No Mr. S.?”

With a heavy sigh you shake your head. “He ‘couldn’t make it’.” You emphasise with an eye roll and air quotes. “But I want to ask some questions to assuage his fears, if that’s alright with you?”

Nodding, he gestures towards his office. “Follow me.”

Your feet immediately follow him without contest. There's just something in the assuredness of his voice that makes you want to do as he says. Not to mention that now every time you do something he asks you to, all you can hear in the back of your head is that slurred, low-vibrato ‘good girl’. And damn it, just thinking about it sends shivers down your spine. 

After entering his office, he follows you, closing the door behind him and sitting across from you, his hands resting against his chin with his fingers entwined. 

The combination of his piercing amber gaze and the hand tattoos is making your heart race and you're glad you're not hooked up to any monitor now. 

“How have you been feeling?” He uses your name again and you gulp, actually thinking before uttering your response so you can articulate a clever answer this time, or an actual answer. 

“Perfectly fine. I'm in good health, Doc. Physically at least because if you could peek at my ebooks or listen to my audiobooks, you would say I'm unhinged!” You snort before regaining composure and cursing internally because that was way more information than necessary. “Fine, I'm fine!” You add with an eye roll. 

What is it with this man and his ability to render your brain into mush? 

“That's good.” You almost have to stifle a whimper. “And how's your father?”

This is a safe topic, so you feel more relaxed as you lean back and cross your legs, forgetting for a moment that you’re wearing a tiny summer dress. 

“His back has been fine, his habits, not so much. I fear he might come back sooner rather than later. And he's so afraid of the surgery that just speaking about it sends him bolting out of the room like lightning. I swear-...”

You stop talking as you notice that Law's hands have risen from his chin and are now covering half of his face leaving only his amber gaze - which is fixed on your bare thighs - and the slightest hint of pink on his cheeks. 

Shit. 

You just gave the doctor a peep show. 

Blushing, you uncross your legs and tuck them neatly to the side, like the old etiquette books demand, resting your hands on your lap as Law realises he was staring. 

Though he seems unfazed. “Well that aligns with what we've seen since discovering the hernia. Mr S. completely ignores caution when moving around and doesn't want to hear anything related to surgery.” He sighs and you tilt your head. So he was paying attention, not just staring at your nearly exposed thighs. 

You reach into your purse and take out your notebook with a sigh. “He has questions. I did some research too, so I jotted down a few more. If he won’t come here, then I need to be reliable enough to give him the right information. I’ve divided the questions by theme and organised them from the most common to the really crazy ones my father came up with and-... what?” You ask, annoyed at the amused look he’s giving you. “Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles softly as he leans back in his chair. His piercing gaze should be unsettling, but instead, it makes your heart race and leaves you breathless. 

“It's not that. You're a control freak with a need for organisation and planning, and an endless search for perfection. You have high standards and expectations of others, but mostly of yourself. Am I right?”

Your mouth hangs open for a moment before you snap it shut, your cheeks flushing red. He’s right on the money. 

“Is that a proper diagnosis, Doctor?” You ask, crossing your arms in defiance. 

“No, not at all. I'm not a psychiatrist. That was just a random guess.” That damned smirk again. 

“Random?” You raise an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping your lips. 

“No. Not random at all. I tend to always be in control, so I understand it. But, there are ways to just… let go… and relax.” That damn sexy smirk is back again and you realise it does things to you. “But we’ll talk about that some other time, if you’re interested.”

A warmth spreads through your cheeks as your body responds to his intense gaze. 

“How about this, you lend me that notebook and I’ll take a look at all your questions. We won’t tell your father anything, and I’ll make him a house call with the answers. If we ambush him, he’ll have to hear us out.”

Biting your lower lip you run his plan through your mind. It’s flawless. Shanks will be caught by surprise, with no way to escape. 

“Sounds good!” You say smirking as you close the notebook with a light tap. “But I’ve paid for a full consultation. What should we do with the rest of the time?”

He makes a low hum, almost a grunt. Something primal and instinctive that makes your hairs stand on end. But when he speaks, his voice is calm. “The way I see it there are two options. Either I do a full checkup, or you ask for a refund. Which we don't offer.”

Well that isn't fair at all. He’s playing you like a fiddle. 

“Law, you're being unfair. That’s hardly an option at all. I just said I didn't want to waste this consultation.”

When he leans forward, his chin resting on his hands again, giving you a perfect view of his hand tattoos and long, slim fingers, you gasp for breath. 

“No point wasting it. Hop on the table.”

You don't know why your heart keeps pounding at an insane rhythm against your chest, but if you are about to be examined by a doctor, he’ll immediately realise that you're nervous. Still, you get up and do as he says, because, once again, you find it very hard not to obey his commands. 

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm your racing heart, you climb onto the examination table, fixing your eyes on your legs instead of on him. But when he approaches, you realise he's wearing spotted jeans. He looks like a cute leopard. How did you not notice that before? 

“Look at me.”

You do. Shit. What's with his hold on you? 

Law points his flashlight at your eyes, one at a time, testing your pupil reactions. You try to focus on the light, but all you can see is the yellow of his eyes. And he's very close. 

“Follow the light.” He moves it up and down, left and right and you follow it. Your breath keeps coming out in shallow pants and you scream at yourself in your head. You're being ridiculous! This is an exam! A professional one! 

“Now open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue for me.” You swallow hard before complying. In most of your books what follows this command isn’t exactly office appropriate. His gloved hand cups your jaw gently, opening it further as he shines the flashlight into your throat. “Say ah!”

The sound you make is rather sinful. You can't help it. You told Kaya you weren’t interested in men in general and you weren’t interested in Dr. Trafalgar Law in particular. But your body didn’t get the memo your brain sent out. Because you're twitching, throbbing, and clenching. And he is just there. Ready for grabbing and taking. 

But you have to be rational. You’ve just met the man. There's undeniable attraction, but there's no way you'll act on it. However the way his pupils darken at the sound that leaves your lips makes you realise that the attraction is mutual. 

And the two of you could have so much fun together. 

You close your eyes and dig your nails into the examination table, making the paper crinkle and tear beneath your fingers as you ground yourself. 

“You can close your mouth now.” His voice sounds hoarse, so he clears his throat as he takes a step back, removing the stethoscope from around his neck and placing it near his ears, not yet covering them so he can speak with you. 

“I'm going to listen to your heart, lungs and abdomen, checking for murmurs or abnormal noises, is that alright?” 

It's the first time he asks permission to do something and you realise it's because he's going to have to touch you, so he needs consent. “Yes.” Your voice seems weak and distant, charged with desire and want. You're pretty sure he picks up on that tone as well, but he doesn't comment on it. 

He places the stethoscope in his ears and the flat part against your chest. He starts with the lungs. “Deep breath through the nose.” Once again you follow all of his instructions. “Out through the mouth.” He keeps moving the piece on your bare chest and back, repeating the orders. His gloved hands are warm, big and firm and they make you feel things. “Your heart now.” He states and you gulp. Your heart is not going to be beating at a normal rhythm at all. 

He notices immediately as a small chuckle escapes his lips. You drop your gaze to your lap again as you bite your lower lip. “Interesting.” He replies and you don't really ask what he finds interesting, knowing the conversation could veer down very dangerous paths. 

Removing the stethoscope from his ears, he asks you to lie down as he reaches for a sheet, placing it over your lap and covering your legs. “Can you pull up your dress so I can listen to your abdomen?” You notice him asking again. He doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

And you're not. 

“Yeah.”

Adjusting the sheet to cover your panties, you pull the dress to expose your belly and he listens to whatever odd sounds come from it. There's a spot he touches on the side that tickles you and you squirm and twitch with a hearty laugh. He seems surprised and looks at you with a glint in his eyes before resuming the examination. 

“Palpation next. Abdomen first to check for irregularities.” He looks at you for confirmation and you nod. This whole ordeal is overwhelming. You try to look away from his form, his eyes and his hands, but it’s impossible. He’s focused on his task, professional and attentive, yet… There's a hint of mischief in the way he looks at you every time he presses your flesh.

And you can’t help but to blush as your breaths grow more and more ragged. 

“Joints and muscles next.” His hands trace your ankles and calves, then your knees - front and back - before climbing towards your lower thighs. You hold your breath, but he doesn’t go higher. “Sit up.”

“Yes, s-... doctor.” The flush in your cheeks nearly rivals his own. Neither of you expected this reaction. You were about to call him sir? Stupid, stupid, stupid! You should really start reading self-help books instead of filthy smut. But his voice… Law’s voice is deep, assured, commanding! You can barely help the way you want to bend to his words and do everything he asks of you. 

In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s deepening his voice on purpose. He’s been using a more commanding tone since the beginning of the consultation. He probably picked up your little kink when you told him to call you a good girl when you met. And now he’s taking full advantage of it. 

Trying to push the whole ordeal behind you, you sit up and close your eyes, willing your mind to focus on something other than the sheer sensuality of a freaking doctor’s appointment!

He keeps touching and squeezing you. Wrists, elbows and shoulders are next. “You’re doing very well.” He says, adding your name and making you blush even more. If you weren’t sure before, now you are. He’s doing it on purpose. 

And damn, it's working!

“Open your eyes.” You try to fight it, pressing your lips together and shutting them even tighter. “I need you to look at me while I do this, can you?” There’s tenderness beneath the firmness of his voice, and the combination sends shivers down your spine. Yet again, you do as he says and open your eyes, only to find his face directly in front of yours. “Good.”

Fuck. You’re about to declare the time of death for any decency you thought you still had, because the huskiness of his voice is enthralling and mesmerising. 

His tattooed hands wrap around your neck and you gasp, your pupils dilating as your hands grip the paper beneath you. His smirk is no longer veiled as he now knows exactly the effect he’s having on you. His fingers move, pressing against your thyroid and under your jaw, and he lets out a satisfying hum that you instantly want to hear again.

But closer to your ear, much, much closer. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“No nodules, that’s good. Now, take a deep breath, relax. You did very, very well.” You want to scream. You want to cry or smirk or laugh. Anything to express the warmth you feel in your chest from his praise. 

You discovered this little kink of yours some time ago but you were always too fearful to ask Ichiji, your ex-fiancé, to explore it in the bedroom. Ichiji was, by nature, violent and controlling, but in a frightening way. You never meant to tempt or provoke his behaviour intimately. Yet with Law…

Your mind was already picturing all kinds of scenarios, each hotter than the last. You knew, you just knew that you were screwed. There was no way you could get this man out of your head now. 

Even though he was very professional with his touching. It was your head that created all the scenarios. Your horny head!

As he sat down by the computer, typing away notes on your file, you composed yourself by pulling your dress down and passing your fingers through your hair. Taking a deep breath, like he said, to steady your racing heart. 

When your eyes landed on him again, his professional demeanour was back in place, as if it were a cloak he had donned over himself after all this teasing. “Tell me, have you done any palpation of your breasts?”

“What?”

The chuckle that escaped his lips was low and soft. “Self-examination? Looking for nodules or abnormalities. A breast checkup?”

Oh. Dumbass. “Yes, yes! I have. All is well.” With wobbly steps you return to the chair in front of him. 

“Any concerns with your health? Something that feels off, or any indispositions? Headaches, stomachaches, or any other aches?”

You keep shaking your head at his suggestions until a snort escapes your lips at his last suggestion. “Does heartache count?” Then you immediately blush and lower your eyes. Thinking about Ichiji earlier revived very unpleasant sensations within you.

Law stops typing while his piercing gaze returns to you. “I can’t offer any medical assistance for that, per se, but I can always lend an ear, if you ever want to talk about it.” As you glance up, the smirk on his lips is replaced by a stern smile. You nod and mumble a low ‘thank you’. 

“Anything else?” He’s not teasing now, nor being playful. He’s being strictly professional and that makes you realise he was teasing you on purpose during the examination. 

“No, thank you.” Your voice still seems very small. You thought that the mere mention of your ex was not enough to alter your state of mind so much, but it really affected you. Maybe it had something to do with being highly stimulated by all the sensations Law was provoking and then crashing when you came down from that high just by thinking about Ichiji and the heartache he caused you. 

His eyebrows scrunch and he stares at you for a while, waiting for you to add something else. When you remain silent, he gets up. “Okay. You’re all set, then.”

“Thank you, Law.”

And without barely saying goodbye, you hasten out of his office, quickly saying goodbye to Kaya and telling her you have to run some errands and you can talk some more another day - since you already settled the payment when you arrived. 

You had just unlocked your car when you heard your name. It’s Law’s deep rumbling voice again and you almost gasp.

“Law?”

He approaches you without his doctor’s coat on and you blush as your eyes take him in. His t-shirt shows off even more tattoos on his arms. Just how many tattoos does he really have? And why do you want to trace them all?

“Can I have the notebook?” You look at him with a raised brow. “You said you’d leave it with me so I can review the questions.” He says with a slight chuckle at your aloofness. 

“Oh!” Smacking your forehead with your palm, you reach into your purse and hand him the notebook with a slight shake of your head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He takes it in his hand and fidgets with the ribbon from the page marker. He looks slightly embarrassed and you don’t know what to make of it, since he seemed so sure of himself in his office. “Did… did I go too far?”

The look on your face is one of surprise. Does he think you’re acting like this because of his teasing?

“No!” You almost scream. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you try to compose yourself. “Not at all! You were very…” Endearing? Seductive? Sexy? Irresistible? “Professional. I’m just…” Another chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a sigh and a dismissive gesture. “I’m a mess! I’m still terribly affected by my past relationship and-... well, thinking about him stirred up some bad memories. I’m sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s completely understandable.” He seems much more at ease now that he’s sure you weren’t weirded out by all the teasing. 

“I’ll be reviewing these, then. I’ll make sure to schedule a house call so we can surprise your father.” 

“Oh!” You gasp in surprise as you reach for the notebook again, fishing a pen from your purse and quickly scribbling your number on one of the pages. “There’s my number. If it’s a surprise visit we don’t want Shanks to be the one to answer the phone.” 

Your easy smile makes him chuckle as he, once again, takes the notebook, tucking it neatly under his arm. “All right. See you soon?”

You nod. “Yes, Law, thank you.” He nods back but, before leaving, he reaches behind you, his arm grazing your side as he opens the car door for you. Such a random, simple gesture has you blushing, and once again thinking about how, in four years of relationship, not once had Ichiji held a door open for you. 

Muttering a muffled ‘thank you’, you climb into your seat. Law says goodbye again before closing the door to the car and walking away. 

You let out the biggest sigh to ever escape your lips as your head falls forward against the steering wheel. 

Why did your father’s doctor have to be so freaking hot?

|Chapter 2|

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Riding a Vaquero. || Alejandro Vargas

Rating: E Words: 2.4K~ Pairing: Alejandro x F!Reader CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. crack + smut, piv (protected), oral sex (m!receiving), throat fucking, cumming (f! and m!), swallowing cum, praise? ('that's it'), Spanish terms of endearment (nena, mamacita, vaquerita + caballito). other tags: crack, one night stand, dating app, flirting, roasting/mockery/slander of Alejandro. summary: You meet Alejandro on a dating app. Despite roasting the crap out of him he still lets you ride him :) a/n: Inspired by my "It's a Match!" fic... but very loosely and also it's so much fucking worse. + Thank you to @loveandplanet for helping me write this because I was struggling, my goodness.

Friday night. 5:30 PM.

You just got home from work and threw yourself on the couch before even making yourself dinner.

You're tired and bored and sort of... lonely.

The perfect cocktail of emotions to make you dip a toe back into the dark, cesspool of a lake that is the only dating app you keep on your phone: Tinder.

Slowly, you begin swiping away on the pictures of men on your screen.

Most of them are gym bros, there's a few nerds... You're pretty sure they're great, they seem it, you're sure they'd offer wonderful company and conversation over a quick meal...

But for the sake of what you're looking for, they might as well have a sign stamped on their face reading "[ Boring ]".

Boring. Boring. Boring.

That's when you see him.

Alejandro.

A handsome man, older, with crow's feet, and deep laugh lines, and a broad nose, and a bit of grey already creeping onto his beard... or maybe it's just the lighting? Either way, he looks... delicious.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

A soldier, originally from Las Almas... 6ft tall... And a good cook... Looks like you've just caught yourself a two-in-one... A dinner and... if his bio is anything to go off of, a one night stand.

Although that bio...

You find yourself swiping right and in an instant, your phone displays a 'It's a Match!' screen, signalling that he liked you back.

You open your DM with him and carefully type a message:

you:

"Do you know your bio has a typo? You wrote horse twice."

His reply was surprisingly quick, almost like he was already in the DM screen as well, waiting for you to reply:

Alejandro:

"I know. I did it on purpose so people would DM me to correct me." "Pretty sure it increased the amount of women reaching out to me." "Women like you."

Cocking a brow, you can't help but scoff. Of course, he uses that typo as an ice-breaker!

No wonder he answered so quick! He was already anticipating you'd call his attention to his typo...

Sitting up on the couch again, you shift your weight and sit into a more focused position, leaning forward, before you type out an answer.

It has to be witty. It has to be funny. It has to catch him off guard...

...

you:

"That explains it." "And now that I got that out of the way..." "Is your forehead really that big or is it just the angle?"

You set your phone down on the coffee table in front of you and bite your lip, hoping that your comment wouldn't have pushed him too far...

A couple of new messages pop onto the left side of the screen in a row, causing you to lean forward to read them.

Alejandro:

"Excuse me?" "I bet you wouldn't say that to my face."

Trying not to giggle, you carefully grab the phone and type another reply:

you:

"More like say it to your forehead you mean?"

You wonder if you're going too far.

He's the first and only interesting guy you've found on Tinder today, the only one that you didn't deem boring upon one glance of their face and bio...

What are you even doing, making fun of him like this?

What if that just causes him to unmatch and block you?

What if-

Alejandro:

"I've never in my entire life been spoken to like this." "Other than when I was a boy pissing off my sisters." "And I hate to say that I sort of like it."

Your eyebrows raise and your eyes widen, feeling like you somehow just caught the biggest fish in the lake by blindly throwing in the lure and reeling it back out when you decided you should.

Sheer fucking luck.

you:

"I have more of those if you'd like." "Can keep going all night just making fun of you."

He paused again for a moment before replying with:

Alejandro:

"And you wouldn't run out of things to say?"

you:

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

Alejandro:

"And what would I have to give you in return for this to happen?"

you:

"Cook me dinner?"

Alejandro:

"Sounds like this was all a ploy to taste my food."

Taking a deep breath, you look around your room aimlessly, trying to hold back from saying the first thought that popped into your mind at reading that message...

But you can't help it.

And, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

you:

"Maybe it's not just the food I'm planning on tasting."

Alejandro:

"Oh." "Maybe I'd like that."

you:

"Doesn't scare you?"

You almost patted yourself on the back for making a joke about his profile's stupid little 'if you think you're into something that scares me' line.

Alejandro:

"I'm an army colonel. Of course it doesn't scare me." "It just intrigues me." "You sure do look like you're starving. Who am I to deny you?"

Stifling a scoff and a bit of a groan, you reply with:

you:

"That line sounded straight out of a porno."

Alejandro:

"Haven't even cooked you dinner and you're beginning with the insults?" "You don't waste any time, huh?"

you:

"No and neither should you."

Alejandro:

"Then how about you let me cook you dinner right now?" "No stalling or wasting any more time."

Biting back a smirk, you shake your head in amusement.

you:

"Sounds good to me." "Address?"

-

"I was right, wasn't I, nena [babygirl]?" Alejandro asks as he looks down at you as you crouch before him in his kitchen.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, muffled sounds escaping your lips as you keep your mouth stuffed with his cock.

"That's right... You really were starving..." He cooed as he looked down at you, his voice carrying a pleasant growl and gravel to it.

Your head is pressed nicely against the cupboards of his kitchen, as he carefully prepares pico de gallo for the tacos he's making the two of you for dinner.

You hadn't expected to end up in this position so soon after driving up to his house, a small 1-store casita with wooden frames and details and a wonderful little tiled patio out back.

You had expected some flirting, some jokes, you roasting him...

Instead, you had somehow ended up pressed against the kitchen counter with his tongue deep in your mouth and his hand up your shirt, fondling one of your breasts...

And now, here you were, perched on your own heels, with his big cock slowly and repeatedly bruising the back of your throat as you moaned softly around it... While he cooks dinner for the both of you like nothing's happening.

It's almost infuriating, how calm he seems, how he looks down at you with those stunning brown eyes of his, and a smug little smirk on his lips...

And yet, he also looks absolutely breathtaking, standing there in a charcoal grey button-up, the first few buttons popped open to reveal a generous speckling of chest hair and a golden crucifix and a few other chains resting over his pecs…

And the way the sweat pools on his brow, and slips down the side of his robust neck, and disappears under his collar…

The light of the setting sun, warm and orange toned, filters through the windows and illuminates his small home, warming it, and reflecting off his sweat, and shining so bright on him.

It almost doesn't get better than this... letting him fuck your throat against the cupboard while he cooks you a meal which, by the scent, will be delicious, proving he wasn't lying about being a good cook...

Setting your hand on his hip, you tap your fingers on his lower back, gesturing him to go deeper into your mouth.

He picks up on the signal and thrusts harder into your mouth, causing you to choke and gurgle around his large shaft, some saliva slowly slipping down the length and disappearing in the generous bush of hair at the base.

"Mmmm, you like when I make you choke, huh?" He coos as he wipes one of his hands on a tea towel and then grips your hair, protecting your head from bouncing back on the hard wood of the cabinet.

Then, his other hand holds onto the edge of the counter, fingers curling and tightening around it, to keep him upright, before he starts thrusting more decisively into your mouth.

Your eyes roll in delight as he bullies his way deep into your mouth in a more consistent and violent pace, his own head falling back and allowing him to grunt and groan as your throat tightens and constricts around him.

"¡Ay carajo! [Ah, fuck!]" Alejandro groans as he pulls your head closer to his crotch, burying your nose in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, keeping the tip buried deep inside your mouth.

Sputtering and gurgling around him, your hands find a perch on his hip, on either side, but, rather than pulling him off, you hold onto him, close and against you, your nails digging into the muscles of his ass cheeks through the fabric of his jeans.

Your tongue laps up at the underside of his cock just as it begins to throb, Alejandro groans above you, leaning his head on the upper cabinets as he slowly floods your mouth with his tangy cum, which slowly slides down your throat as you make an effort to swallow around him.

With a long exhale, Alejandro licks his lips and looks down at you as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth, letting you finally catch a proper breath too.

"Your mouth is very talented, mamacita." He compliments you, a smirk already forming on his lips again, his hand reaching down to help you wipe some drool off your chin.

"Thank you." You reply with a chuckle and push yourself up to your feet, side stepping him as he tucks himself back into his jeans and resumes making you dinner.

"So... What were you saying about having a lot more insults to tell me?" He quips and smirks at you.

"Well, first of all, I could still see your forehead from all the way down there,"

-

You break the kiss in favor of carefully rocking back and forth on his dick, buried balls deep within your slick cunt.

His large hands grip onto your hip and thighs to continue moving you atop him, making your clit grinding against his pubic hair in a way that made you squirm and whine.

His head is leaning back on the back of his couch as he watches you make yourself feel good, overstimulating your sensitive clit with the help of the coarse hair on his pelvis, and feeling the tip of his slightly curved cock rub against your g-spot.

"You like that, hm, vaquerita [little cowgirl]?" He coos at you, as your head dips back and you moan softly, before bouncing up on his cock for a moment and sinking all the way down, drawing louder groans out of you both.

It's a surprisingly slow fucking session, probably because of your bellies are full and warm with the recent meal, and you just sort of stumbled your way onto the couch afterward, for a make-out session that turned to slow, lazy sex.

Leaning against Alejandro in the low sunlight as the afternoon turns into evening and the sun sets through the window, you rock your hips against his again and again.

Your lips find his for what must be the 50th time tonight. Your tongues intertwine as you huff and moan into his mouth, his fingers digging your thighs as he squeezes you down and rubs you onto him, back and forth.

Breaking the kiss, you set your head down on his shoulder. It's almost too intimate for a first time, but it's strangely nice. His skin feels nice and warm against you, albeit a bit dewy with sweat.

Your eyes look up at him as he relaxes his head back and grunts softly, continuing to guide your hip back and forth on his, to seek out extra friction for you both, and murmuring incoherent Spanish curses and words of praise.

Slowly, you find yourself leaning forward and lick a stripe up his neck toward his stubble-speckled jawline, feeling the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue, as, even now, he's still producing more and more little droplets that slide tantalizingly slowly down his tan skin.

Then, you lick across the bottom of his jaw and around to the back of it, then, your head lowers and you lick another stripe up his neck. Alejandro reacts the same every single time, with a soft shudder and a grunt, throwing his hips up into yours.

"Oh you like that, huh, vaquero [cowboy]?" You tease him this time, using his own words against him.

The look Alejandro shoots you at that quip makes it clear he didn't appreciate your sarcasm... What a shame.

You lean back, your hands coming to rest on his thighs behind you, before you start bouncing in fervor. It drives a groan out of him, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

His left hand goes to your waist to steady you while he brings his other hand up to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it and allowing him to feel himself through your walls.

His thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing it side to side, as you continue carefully and steadily bouncing off his lap, his own thighs having stiffened and raised to allow you and easier time.

The slaps of your ass and his thighs meeting echos throughout the living room, along with the sounds of your and Alejandro's moans.

It's a slow build-up, the both of you too lazy to actually put in too much effort into chasing your orgasm, but, steadily, and with Alejandro's thumb consistently rubbing against your clit, you find yourself reaching your peak.

Alejandro watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning back against the couch and a stupid smirk painted on his lips, seeming so smug over the fact he got you to fall apart on his cock...

Only to watch you dismount from him and take a seat beside him on the couch, your body feeling too hot and tired to even remain in touch with any part of his.

His smirk vanishes and he cocks a brow, giving you a silent, judgmental look, as if asking 'What are you doing? Get back here.'.

And his face downright settles into a scowl when you mirror him by raising your own brow and ask him "You're a colonel, you've got this, right? You don't need my help.".

And, with an extra little impish smile you add, "Don't be scared, I believe in you, caballito [horsie]!"

for @lyralein , so you stop fucking bullying me because I "never write Alejandro" or whatever 🫶

[natewriteslol]

"Short" Fuse

Summary: Despite not really being close, Chilchuck opens up to you about being short, you listen and offer some interesting counters to his insecurities.

A/N: a lil sum sum :P

It had been a long, adventurous day, yet Laios continued his search within the dungeon for some food. The entire party was hungry, but of course the two chefs especially held the urge to eat. They both wanted to go after these specific monsters in the area that could be tasty, something about these snail creatures and main course. Despite apprehension from Marcille she tagged along and Izutsumi not wanting to miss out on the action and still wasn't tired due to her slight nocturnal nature followed suit.

They assured the remaining two should keep watch of the supplies of your camp. And with waves from all of them except from the beastman, the four were engulfed within the darkness of the dungeon.

Leaving solely you and Chilchuck.

Your relationship was most definitely not the closest as he adopted a fatherly nature amongst the other members of the party except for Senshi and you. And whilst that makes sense as the dwarf and yourself were both adults just like Chilchuck, it still was completely different.

You honestly just chalked it up to you joining the party at a later date than the rest, despite bonding with the rest of your other people, even getting closer with someone as combative as Izutsumi.

Truth be told, you couldn't stand it as you were at a stand still of a lack of satisfaction. You weren't liked and you weren't disliked as you both almost never spoke to one another. But you persevered and decided to completely break the ice, not caring if you were being weird at this point.

"How is your sight so good?"

He was caught completely off guard, thinking that you both were going to sit in silence the whole time.

"What do you mean?" Chilchuck asked back, side eyeing you.

"When defeating golems, you're the first to spot their hearts before anyone and you spot weak points on different creatures also that others are blind to. How do you do that?" You explained.

"Half-foots typically have keen eyesight, it comes with the hearing too. Big eyes, big ears," he put it simply.

You continued to poke and prod at him and you ended up making decent conversation with the man, even getting a couple of laughs. But somehow your topic had evolved from weaknesses, to then insecurities.

"Laois is an idiot, but I would rather have more height and be able to perform in battle a little more. Half Foots mainly need to stay out of the way and let other people handle it. It feels...cowardly," he says, putting his arms on top of his knees and sighing.

It was catching you a bit off guard but I guess the saying of opening up to a stranger than someone you know is making itself very apparent at the moment.

"I completely disagree man," you replied, taking a more casual approach.

Chilchuck didn't want to completely block your opinion and he was curious about what you had to say surprisingly , "What are you saying?"

"I'd argue every person in here obviously has an asset that they possess, meaning one would fall apart without the other. Also we have all been in close to death situations and you're usually the most likely to survive due to your height," you explained, poking at the fire with a twig as you sat on the cold dungeon floor.

"I guess," he replied, looking off to the side. But the look on his face had told another story, as if the brunette had more to say.

.

.

.

"Ever since my wife left me, I've been more caring about how people percieve me. Gets on my goddamn nerves."

There it was.

The Half-Foot blurted out, both horrified and relieved he got that off his chest. He held a small pebble within his palm, semi- gently throwing a rock into the fire, crackling the wood and which sent out light embers into the air.

He had been definitely holding that in for a long time, and had no idea how to say it or if he could even speak it aloud. It's common for people to feel that way, more vigilant and embarrassed over what others have to say about them especially if they're single. But it had been a while since the Half-Foot truly felt it after being married for so long.

And for the past five years, it had been completely gnawing at him and his security as a man. He was twenty nine yet still couldn't shake that feeling, but with his occupation, Chilchuck couldn't exactly dwell on romance mid-lock picking or battle.

But on quiet nights like this, it got to him.

"Well, you're lucky you're a good looking guy, otherwise you would be screwed," you said bluntly, taking off your boot to get some dirt out from the inside. He was honestly speechless, had you of all people thought that? Or were you just talking to make him feel better.

But this whole interaction makes him feel so weird, but it's not a... negative feeling.

"You are so damn ridiculous, you know that?"

"You can think whatever you want Chilchuck, but I think deep down you know I'm right," you said, your eyes still fixated on your boot cleaning process. Your statement made a blush spread across his cheeks.

"This dungeon is making me talk to you, I swear," he replied frustratedly, growing "tired" of your antics.

"Well good thing we had this talk, since we both have had things on our mind for a while, huh?"

Although you both opened up about how you've been feeling, Chilchuck was doing a majority of the talking on this subject. Was that what you mean? The beginning when you were talking about yourself and not his appearance and you finding him attractive?

Right?

And just as he was about to inquire further, the short man was quickly cut off by a certain loud blonde.

"Hey guys, we're back!" Laios said excitedly from afar, his voice echoing slightly on the dungeon walls, his hands were wet with wet giant snails whilst Senshi carried a large sack of god knows what on his back.

Marcille and Itsuzumi looked green in the face with disgust, but you knew they would most definitely eat the monster Escargot that you knew the dwarf would whip up. The sight always brought a smile to your face, especially their hypocrisy in finding everything Senshi and Laois made yummy.

As you sat up to go and help with dinner, you looked over your shoulder, "Thanks for the talk Chilchuck, we should do this more often."

This was might not curate the best outcome, but why didn't he want to stop?

Why the hell did he even care?

[shibaraki]

PAS DE DEUX ┊ GOJO SATORU

tags: GN reader, no curse au (ballet), principal dancer gojo, reader is a photographer for his ballet company, fluff, flirting + casual touch, barre exercising, getting together, first kisses

wc: 2.4K

Gojo Satoru is just a man.

Albeit a coveted man, able to do anything on stage exactly as he would in rehearsal. High arabesques and tight pirouettes. Otherworldly form. Broad hands able to memorise another’s centre of gravity within the first twenty seconds. Swan-like and slender. All agile limbs, a body brazen with self-assurance and packed with strength, reflected in how effortlessly he can catch, spin, and dip his partners. Low, on perfect pointe.

A beautiful, talented, annoying man. That which has chosen to breathe down your neck as you fiddle with your camera, rather than occupy any other corner of the large studio.

“You’re distracting me, Satoru”.

“How am I distracting?” he asked, inclining his head. You gave him a look, and emphatically motioned at him from head to toe. Satoru cracks a grin, those piercing blue eyes gleaming, “By existing?”

“No, because you're all up in my space. I’ll show you the pictures in a second so back up,” you snap, your hand fluttering dismissively at him. “And put a shirt on!”

A low, vibrating hum, and a smile that holds a sincere gentleness to it that you wouldn’t have expected to find. He looks almost boyish. You turn from it and feel his presence move away like the sun being blocked out, steady warmth then the absence of it.

He does not put his shirt on. Instead Satoru takes position at the barre and walks his fingers along the top. Dawn filtered in through the small windows, casting a spotlight onto every dip and curve. You resolutely do not look at that narrow waist, nor how closely his tights clung to his hips, his thighs. Pulled over his soft soled slippers are a pair of grey stirrup leg warmers, bunched around his calves. He’s—

You draw a sharp inhale and refocus on the LCD screen, the neckstrap suddenly uncomfortably heavy.

Satoru is a bit older than most of the other dancers you photograph but no more mature for it. Granted he’s gentler in his discipline, more experienced, and always less eager for the practice to be over. He liked the day to drag on and on, especially if someone was watching him.

People said he was arrogant. Maybe that was a little true and with good reason. But your lense saw through the veneer that Satoru wore. Session after session, through rehearsals and classes and auditions, you saw pride for his craft, and how deeply he loved imbuing that love into his juniors.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so, but watching him dance felt transcendent. Whoever the pair, he made every pas de deux seem seamless, like two halves of the same entity coming together. Solo he was in a league of his own. Sometimes he danced as if he loved beyond the scope of his skin. Sometimes he danced as if the whole world had betrayed him.

“How’d I do this time?” you hear him ask in that very cavalier way that betrayed his interest immediately, becoming antsy in your prolonged silence. “Pretty good, right?”

Today you managed to shoot him demonstrating a particularly heartbreaking variation of a grand jeté. He reached the peak and fell so gracefully that you’d felt the whole room hold its breath. Another beep and the camera screen flickers to that very photo. Right leg stretched anterior, his left posterior to his body, evenly split into a horizon as he soared through the air. Rather than poise to mimic an elegant wingspan he had curved an arm into an arc over his face, almost as if in anguish, while the other draped behind him.

“Why ask if you already know?” you deflected, switching to the next photograph. “You definitely have a flair for the dramatic”.

“Maybe I want to hear it from your mouth,” you can hear the layered petulance behind his words. It makes you restless to think your praise could hold any significance to him. “Tense today, aren’t we? You should do some barre exercises with me. Loosen you up a little,” he continues, clicking his tongue. “I could even teach you some steps”.

You snort lightly, “That’s a ridiculous idea”.

“I don’t think so,” Satoru disagrees, a contemplative tone to his voice. Intensity returns to his gaze as it roams over your form. “You’re the only person in the company I haven’t danced with yet. Can you blame me?”

“It wouldn’t be dancing, Satoru. You know I can’t dance,” you insist, or so you think, the weak response barely audible over the heartbeat flooding your ears. “I’d look like a fucked up marionette”.

A hand crosses your line of sight. You hadn’t even noticed his approach. Satoru plucks the camera from your slackened grasp and slips the neckstrap over your head in one swift movement. “Then let me pull your strings,” he teases, proffering his open palm. Your throat grows dry.

“That was awful,” you tell him, clutching to whatever dignity you have left. Then you take it. Long fingers enclose over your knuckles and he smiles.

Sometimes when you want something you’ll take it in whatever manner the universe is willing to give it.

“Ha. Worked though”.

As mercy would have it, Satoru guides you as he would a beginner. You’ve lived and worked amongst dancers for years. Your mind is familiar with the lifestyle, the lingo and the routine, but your muscles are not. “Another rep. Heels together with your toes turned out—that’s it, bend slightly,” your pulse rockets at the light touch to your hip, firm yet gentle in encouraging you to bend. The room is much hotter than you recall. “Place one foot in front of you. Point. Now sweep it around to the back in a C-shape,” warmth lingers where his fingertips had been as he steps back. “Point your feet,” he says, his lips suddenly close to your ear.

“What—?”

“As you circle,” Satoru repeats. “Point your feet.” You exhale and repeat. “Hm. Good at taking instructions, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to kill you,” comes your shaky response, already feeling clammy. It doesn’t escape you that he still hasn’t put a shirt on. Your inner thigh muscles are burning. Satoru laughs and the irritation ebbs away because he sounds happy. Giddy, even.

“This one will open your hips nicely,” Satoru finds your waist again and pivots you to face the barre. His body heat seeps through your t-shirt where he’s pressed against your back. Hands slide beneath your arms and down to your wrists, delicately placing them atop the barre. “Keep taking deep breaths for me. Bend your knees—hold,” the ache forces your eyes shut for the five seconds he keeps you inert, plunged into fleeting darkness with just his low, honeyed voice to guide you.

This really was a terrible idea.

“Rise to plié,” Satoru murmurs. “Up into demi-pointe. There you are, now hold again”.

Shadows pool into the studio space as the evening draws on. You’re rendered a sticky mess, and not in the manner you’d have liked. Wondrously, and despite the soreness that will no doubt wear in tomorrow, you had begun to feel you were working with your body and not against it.

Satoru had barely broken a sweat. You take comfort in the splotchy flush covering his cheeks and how his chest rises and falls, both signs of exertion. Equally as distracting. “You’re almost a natural,” he says, running a hand through his silky white hair.

Unsteady on your feet, you roll your eyes skyward while the burning in your lungs dwindles. “Sure. We’ll be onto our own pas de deux in no time,” you joke offhandedly. But Satoru’s expression wanes into something like longing in your periphery. Fondness, and then to amusement.

“Maybe not. Your pointe needs work,” he says.

“Well excuse me, big shot. I’m not even wearing the right shoes—”

“Want to try some lifts?”

A stone of dread drops into your stomach. The barre digs into your lower back as you lean against the wall, “We do some—some routine warmups and you think I’m ready for partnered lifts?!”

Satoru’s voice remains steady but his lips are starting to purse as he mirrors your posture, “I can take your weight”.

You didn’t doubt it. Satoru’s ability appeared to defy physics all together and that translated well with his counterparts too, whoever they may be. You’ve seen him lift people of every different shape and weight. Each one would become weightless in his embrace.

“No. No lifts,” you tell him, trying for a cadence that inspired authority. Satoru arched his brow and you got the sense that to him you were akin to a small disgruntled cat. Whether it’s the fatigue that lowers your inhibitions or plain pettiness, you hear yourself say, “I think you just want an excuse to touch me more”.

A pulse of magnetised desire rippled through the atmosphere. You don’t miss the way his breathing hitched, or how the hand absently rubbing the back of his neck stilled only for a moment before falling to his hip. Satoru swallows. Your eyes follow how his thumb strums the waistband of his tights—tights that leave very little to the imagination.

Anticipation prickles through your belly when he takes a step forward, then another, until his nose bumps your own. “You’re not supposed to say the quiet part out loud,” he murmurs, a little breathless. It ghosts across your lips. There’s trepidation in his gaze, searching your expression for rejection or discomfort, neither of which he will find.

You are reminded again that for all his apparent confidence and talent, Gojo Satoru was still very much human.

Your hands lingered in the narrow space between your bodies. Restlessly clenching, uncurling. Not knowing where to put them. The bare skin of his abdomen brushes your knuckles. “Satoru,” you begin.

He hums, palms coming to rest on your hips. He leans into you, emboldened by the invocation of his name, and echoes yours back.

“Did you seriously…” your thoughts drift as he dips lower, lingering. The blood rushes to your head. You could easily tip your head, align your mouths, and bring him into a kiss. Somehow the simplicity of that makes this whole charade even more laughable. “Don’t tell me you made me do a workout instead of just asking me on a date like a normal person”.

The response registers visibly on his face. He blinks, delicate pale lashes fanning over his cheeks, and in the next breath he’s lighting up, eyes first, glittering urainian blue. “That was hardly a workout,” he says, warmth bleeding into his voice. “It was a warmup”.

“Warmup my ass”.

“Can, if you want”.

Laughing, you cradle his jaw and say, “Stop being annoying and kiss me”.

Satoru’s hands have slipped beneath your shirt. He squeezes, smiles at the feel of soft flesh yielding under his thumbs, “Alright”.

Always has to have the last word, you think amusedly. Satoru pressed impossibly close. The barre has since become numb where it prods at your back. Your lips part as he tilts and your mouths brush, want knotted deep in your belly. It is slow at first, hesitant. But every movement of Satoru’s lips turns into sweet affirmation. Quick, then long, then greedy.

You wrap your arms around his neck and feel him shudder as you suck gently at his plush bottom lip. He paws at you with more fervour, languidly licking into your mouth. Soft wet sounds reach your ears and a contented hum reverberates through your skin that you can’t help returning. You feel his lips stretch thin into a smirk.

When you eventually part for breath your chest is pounding. He watches you closely. Half lidded and entirely too pleased. Something about the certainty and satisfaction stunned you then. Coloured the world around you in roseate. “You really do like me, don’t you?”

Satoru doesn’t falter. Quiet and deeply amused, he replies, “What gave it away? The constant pestering, the always staying behind after hours, the never wearing a shirt, the—?”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” you sighed, smoothing your palms down his bare chest simply because you can. “…I like you too, you know”.

“Yeah?”

You hummed. “What gave it away? The constant pestering?” you kissing the corner of his mouth, “The always staying after hours?” and then his cheek.

Satoru turns quickly to chase as you recline, nipping at your mouth. “Point taken,” he rumbles, pinching at the fabric of your shirt and lightly tugging it. “Pattern dictates this should go, next”.

“You know we need to lock up. If I let you start we’ll never stop,” you laughed, wriggling out from his embrace. The studio will be shrouded in complete darkness soon, and now you both need to shower. Satoru reluctantly lets you go, trailing after you as you collect your camera and pass it between your hands.

The screen flickers on, back to that incredible grand jeté. Satoru hooks his chin over your shoulder. “You really do photograph beautifully,” you think aloud. His jaw shifts and you can tell he’s smiling. “What were you thinking about, when you jumped?”

Satoru sniffed, not even pretending to think of something profound. “Mochi stuffed with whipped cream and zunda”.

You sigh fondly, eyes falling closed. Beautiful, talented, annoying man indeed.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Rating: SFW (later chapters will be NSFW) Type: Long form, multi-chapter, Stanford Pines x Reader Tags: Mutual pining, no pronouns used, teasing, a special appearance from Stan, mentions of the kids, housekeeper!Reader, tw: my horrible jokes. Word count: 5,729 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Ch.2 here

In which a simple expedition with Ford goes increasingly sideways and you learn more than enough about thermodynamics to last you a lifetime.

A/N: This has been quite an undertaking to produce. I created this fic as somewhat of a universe in which base a number of my post-portal!Ford one-shots etc in, and that meant I had to lay a lot of groundwork in it. I wanted to have a setting where I didn't need to keep giving background on what the Reader's role is and how/why they feel a certain way in every fic, and to also offer a kind of timeline that could be explored through future works. Because of that, in this fic there will be vague allusions to some small events happening to set us up for the current day and if people are interested in reading more about those events in full detail then I'd really love to explore them properly with you guys.

Just as an aside - Reader will mention they don't have a father in a throwaway line. It can be taken as just a joke or as literal. Up to you.

Anyway, most of this fic is already completed and I'll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. You can wait to read it all in one go or enjoy it in chapters. There will be roughly 5 in total. Enjoy!

Sometimes, in life, things align so perfectly that a person can't stop themselves from considering the possibility of cosmic interference.

Deities. The universe. Some other unseen, all powerful entity of murky origin. All of their existences seem far more plausible when events in one's life fall effortlessly into place and line up to give them the exact thing they've always wanted.

Today is one of those days.

You're busy chopping onions when the planets orient themselves for you.

The broad kitchen knife in your hand knocks rhythmically against the oak board underneath it with every slice you make and the little ribbons of milk-white flesh stack neatly between blade and vegetable, but your attention is, quite irresponsibly, elsewhere.

You really ought to be keeping track of your fingers but you're far too preoccupied with gazing out of the bay window in front of you to really care all that much. The thing is huge; its frame is rimmed with rich mahogany and it has one broad, square pane sitting in the centre, beset by two more, slimmer, rectangular pieces. It drinks in the waning daylight outside and on sunnier evenings, the pretty little stained panels that skirt the tops of each one glow a rich blue, showing off the depictions of constellations inside, like someone has captured part of the night sky and trapped it within the glass for their own private amusement.

Today, the clouds block the sun and the cerulean glass is dull, but you don’t mind too much. You’re not making use of the window to admire the art, lovely as it may be. You’re far more focused on what’s taking place on the lawn, beyond the bounds of the warm interior of the house.

Out on the well-kept grass, two figures are vigorously working out. Well, one is. The other looks like he’d rather keel over and die than spend another second out there, but he’s doing his best all the same and that’s what matters, you suppose.

Steam rises from Ford’s figure as he pauses in his work to help his nephew grip a mid-sized dumbbell correctly. It curls off and around his body like smoke, rising from its sweaty source and wafting into the unseasonably cool air. His cheeks are pink, likely both from exertion and the chill in the weather, and the colour blooms all the way across his face, stretching far enough to even tickle the tips of his ears.

He looks gorgeous.

Dressed in all-black, he’s wearing a short sleeve t-shirt and sweats, paired with dirty blue trainers. Where the skin of his throat and arms should be exposed, however, they’re instead wrapped up tight in what you presume to be some kind of fancy thermal shirt. You’ve never seen him wear anything that shows off his skin, yet somehow the way it clings to the curves of his biceps and forearms is even more revealing than seeing them bare.

Granted, this isn't the first time you've spied on one of his workout sessions like this (in almost exactly the same way), but every time he shows up, it feels like you've been blessed by the Heavens.

Ford, for what it’s worth, hasn’t noticed anything untoward. Not as far as you’re aware, anyway. He’s usually too lost in whatever he’s doing to pay you much mind and if he does catch your presence in the window, you’re always quick to make yourself look busy.

Ford works out four times a week, like clockwork, on the front lawn of the house he shares with his brother. He doesn't always have his nephew with him (Dipper clearly only ever wants to do his best for his great-uncle, however exercise is hardly the kid's forte and you can't say you blame him), which means that oftentimes you get the absolute pleasure of observing a clueless Ford lift weights and stretch his quads for sixty minutes whilst you break from your other chores to prepare them all dinner.

You've been working for the Pines’ for the better part of a year now and getting hired had been a complete accident:

Upon moving to Gravity Falls eighteen months ago and landing the first job you had come across in the local paper (an underpaid, exhausting waitressing gig at the local diner) you’d run into the kids one afternoon on a rare day off.

Mabel had almost smashed your ankle to bits after she and her brother had lost control of their overstuffed trolley and once they had finished their litany of apologies, you’d taken note of the cart’s contents: primarily filled with sugar riddled snacks and items with so little nutritional value that you’d been astounded they’d been legal to sell, neither one of the kids appeared to know how they were going to lug all their so-called food home or what they were going to make for dinner.

Without much else to do, you’d volunteered to lend a hand. They had explained their task: “Grunkle Stan says his back hurts too much to waste time in the store these days and he promised that if we helped, he’d make Grunkle Ford teach us how to drive so we can do it even faster!” Mabel had enthusiastically informed you, eyes bright and metaphorical tail bushy, and despite your confusion over the concept of a ‘Grunkle’, the idea of two apparently-just-turned fourteen year olds at the wheel had been less than thrilling.

Some gentle sweet talking had convinced them to swap out some of their items for things a little more suitable and you’d carried their bags back on a short walk to the house where you’d met the infamous Stan lounging on its porch, his feet up on some empty crates.

At Mabel’s excited introduction of you and her retelling of your recipe ideas, Stan had given you a once over before he’d asked how you felt about replacing the kids as dinner gofer. As it turned out, sending two hyperactive children out to get groceries every week had apparently (shockingly) not been working out too well for the older brothers, and one offer of help had turned into several paid offers.

After only a few short weeks of assisting them, you’d been offered a full time position as housekeeper. The decision to take them up on it had been easy; waitressing barely covered the bills for your decrepit little cabin on the outskirts of town and spending hours every day walking the same five metre route to and from the kitchen six days a week was monotonous enough that you’d been considering moving on anyway.

You’d jumped at the chance.

Technically, your job here is to help with the household tasks that Stan is too lazy to do and that Ford is too busy researching or gallivanting around in the forest to take on, but more often than not, you’re stuck doing whatever little thing Stan thinks up so that he can, as he puts it: ‘enjoy his retirement, sweetheart’. The work extends to any little chore they might need help with, and when the kids head home for summer and Ford and Stan set sail for a few months again, it falls to you to keep the place standing until they return.

Hence why you’re slaving away in their roomy kitchen this evening, gazing out at Ford like you’re some kind of yearning protagonist in a classic romance novel and turning over several thoughts in your mind that you’re sure would get you fired if you revealed them in detail to anyone else. You exhale softly as you watch him show Dipper how to correctly pull off a bicep curl, his arm flexing beneath his shirt.

Behind you, at the dinner table, Stan pauses where he's rustling through his daily newspaper at a leisurely pace and his chair creaks as he shifts in it. “Keep sighing like that and you’ll fog the windows up before he’s finished.”

You start, having completely forgotten his presence, and narrowly you swerve the kitchen knife to avoid chopping off the tip of your index finger. “Jesus, Stan!” you huff. “I almost cut my hand off! They should put a bell on you.”

Stan laughs under his breath. “Oh, they’ve tried, trust me,” he mutters darkly. “Besides, that’s what you get for not paying attention.”

“I am paying attention,” you lie. “I was just…. Thinking.”

“About what?” Stan asks, in a way that suggests he already knows. He probably does.

Stan is the only other person besides yourself who’s aware of your affection for Ford.

The crush had started small, blossoming slowly over time into something more significant, and Stan had worked it out before you’d even caught it yourself.

For all his faults, the guy is as perceptive as they come and admittedly, he’s a lot of fun in his own right. He’s cantankerous and rough around the edges, and yet he’s got a heart of gold that he hides deep underneath his gaudy chains and string vests. At first, he’d been grumpy and standoffish about your presence, despite being the one to hire you in the first place, but as time has gone by and you’ve proven yourself to be competent at both the work and at giving as good you get, he’s dropped his guard and dragged you into his jokes and games.

Although he’s less than thrilled about your private sentiments towards his brother, he's charming in his own special way and he only ever uses it to rag on you when he’s feeling mean. To the best of your knowledge, he hasn’t said a word to anyone else about it. Stan is an ass, but he’s not cruel.

And while you’re not going to divulge your most intimate thoughts to him, you’ll always rise to a little back and forth with him. He seems to enjoy having a verbal sparring partner.

“How old did you say your brother was again?” You ask with feigned innocence, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“What?” Stan grunts, folding the top of his paper down enough to glower at you over it.

“I said, remind me how old your brother is again,” you repeat, turning your attention back to watching Ford lean down to stretch his hamstrings again. It looks like he’s cooling down for the day now which means he’ll be doing static stretches for the next ten minutes, and every time he does so you’re treated to a wonderful view of his ass.

“Same age as me,” Stan says, and at your silence he tacks on: “We’re twins,” like you’re an idiot.

“So….?”

“He’s sixty-two, genius.”

“Huh,” you mutter quietly. “Interesting….”

It's hard to remember when Ford is so agile and active, and for all your interest in him, you've never actually asked his age. Sixty-two is perfectly doable though, in every conceivable sense of the word…..

Stan rustles his paper again. “If you’re thinkin’ about what I think you’re thinkin’ about, and I know you are, don’t even think about it.”

You snort. He has such a way with words.

"I told you last time, stay away from him. He's...." Stan pauses, as though he intends to say something else but thinks better of it. "He's old enough to be your father."

“I don’t have a father,” you say absentmindedly.

It’s Stan’s turn to snort now. “Y’know, that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

You tear your gaze away from Ford’s routine to flip Stan the bird, sticking your tongue out for good measure before you reach for the glass mixing bowl to your right. Now that your evening matinee is ending, you really ought to get a move on with dinner.

“Anyway, I didn’t hire you to gawp at my brother like he’s a piece of meat on the discount shelf,” Stan grouches. “You’re s’posed to be cooking.”

“I'm not gawping, I just happen to be facing the same way that he's doing all his stuff in,” you say defensively, before adding in a muttered: “Besides, he definitely wouldn’t be on the discount shelf.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, clearly not believing a word.

Rather than defend your actions, you focus on your work: Tonight's dinner is wild mushroom pie. You've only made it once before but it's nice and filling, and you're supposed to be helping everyone eat better. Bad diets run in the family apparently (although where Ford is concerned, he just as often skips meals altogether some days) and so far, they've all been amenable to trying something new. The kids had been reluctant to test out vegetables at first but after a few valiant efforts to make them as palatable as possible they'd come round.

A lot of the work is already done; a pot of stock is simmering away on the hob, the onions from earlier are ready to be tossed into the slowly-warming frying pan and a red, ceramic pie dish is neatly lined with pastry and ready to go whenever you need it. For now, the next task is to prepare the star ingredient: Wild mushrooms.

You’ll be the first to admit, quite happily, that you're not the most outdoorsy of people and you're going to cheat a little bit on the ‘wild’ requirements. You'd picked up a packet of the things last weekend at the supermarket with the intention of doing one thing or another with them, and it does say on the label that they're wild, so you'll let yourself off on that one. Although, knowing Gravity Falls you're really hoping that ‘wild’ isn't a play on words and they turn out to be some kind of feral man-eating fungi. You're not in the mood to be hunted down by a hungry creature today.

Leaving your pots and pans to simmer, you check in the pantry for the little box only to come up empty handed. There's no sign of it anywhere in there, not even when you rummage around right at the back, and you call out to Stan in confusion: “Have you seen the mushrooms I brought back last week?”

“The ones in the brown container?” Stan asks.

“Yeah….”

“Mabel fed ‘em to Waddles last night,” he says, and when you stick your head around the pantry door to stare at him in disbelief, he shrugs without looking up. “What was I supposed to do, tell her no?”

You know what he means; She’s upstairs right now giving the damn pig a manicure makeover with your old (and apparently animal safe) nail polishes because you hadn’t had it in you to deny her them when she’d been upset about her own limited supplies.

It’s extraordinarily hard to refuse Mabel anything and you can appreciate the difficulty, but still.

“Stan, I told you what I was planning to cook tonight!” You groan, kicking the pantry door shut. “How am I supposed to make a mushroom pie with no mushrooms?”

You can’t exactly nip to the store today either. Every single shop in town is shut. The news this morning had warned of a major storm blowing in and informed everyone that they best stay at home lest they keep an inflatable raft in their back pocket, and no one sells those outdated things anymore. Too many accidental indoor deployments, apparently.

According to Ford, this place is susceptible to irrational weather spells and the increasingly aggressive changes in pressure and temperature that have spawned with global warming have only made them more volatile. Last summer there had been a spate of hailstorms that had puked up football-sized pieces of ice and smashed the windscreen of your car to pieces. You’re still sore about that one….

“What am I supposed to do?” You lament, sparing a miserable glance at the half-done recipe on the stove.

From behind you, a deep voice makes you jump: “Is something wrong?”

You almost leap out of your skin, swivelling on the spot to find the source hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

Both brothers have the ability to be supernaturally quiet when they want to be. While Stan uses his subtlety less often, Ford skulks around like a well practised alley cat a lot of the time and he frequently scares the shit out of you. He must have finished his routine and crept back inside unannounced.

He gives you an apologetic smile, holding one hand up to ease your fear. “Apologies,” he laughs under his breath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Ford is still dressed in his workout clothes, his thick, wavy hair roguishly dishevelled and slightly damp at the temples, and he looks just as lovely up close as he had done from the window. Perhaps even lovelier.

You swallow thickly, your brain short circuiting at the sight of him. “Uh, yes?” You say, though it's more of a question than an answer.

Ford looks at you expectantly, evidently waiting for you to expand on your problem, and Stan smirks at your lack of grace.

You shake your head minutely, desperately pulling yourself together and hoping he'll assume your speechless state is just because he's made you jump and not because your heart is climbing up your throat.

“I'm making pie,” you say, jerking your thumb over at the pots. “And someone,” You pause to fix Stan with an annoyed look and he rolls his eyes. “Let Mabel feed them all to Waddles, and…. I don’t have a back up plan.”

You feel a little stupid admitting it aloud.

Ford hums thoughtfully, heavy brows creasing together as he leans against the doorframe.

“That's quite the conundrum….” He says, frowning at the flagstone tiles under your feet.

His dark eyes flicker back and forth quickly, and you can tell he's trying to think up a solution.

After a long pause, he snaps his fingers and speaks up again: “You know, I did stumble across a nice little patch of mushrooms not far from here about a month ago. We could take a walk up there and grab some, if you'd like?”

“In the forest?” You ask, brows raised.

“Where else?” Ford grins, and you feel your stomach fill with butterflies. “They're edible, of course, I've tested them myself.”

“Are you telling me you ate random mushrooms you found on the ground, Doctor Pines?” You ask, mildly appalled. “They could have killed you.”

Ford waves a hand dismissively. “Unlikely. My travels have given me something of an iron stomach. It takes more than a Death Cap to put me down these days.”

At the mention of ‘travels’, you perk up a bit.

Ford's history is more than a little murky to you. In the time you’ve been working for the family, you’ve only heard second-hand snippets or passing mentions of his alleged escapades. The kids have let slip to you several times about his adventures and, despite initially assuming they'd been making things up for fun, the stories had eventually begun to seem a little too consistent to simply be make-believe.

One evening, when the kids had been safely tucked up in bed and Ford had been locked away in his study, you’d brought the subject up to Stan over a nightcap on the porch.

Stan had sighed, lit a cigar, and sworn you to secrecy before giving you a rough outline of his brother’s complex background: his outstandingly impressive academic history, their less-than-ideal family rift and some kind of accident that had sent Ford careening into, quite literally, another dimension. Stan hadn’t gone into excessive detail, and you hadn’t pushed despite desperately wanting to, but by his own admission he had felt that if you were to be working around them then you’d be better off at least having some idea of their strange history.

And strange it is.

You yourself have only lived in Gravity Falls for the better part of eighteen months and becoming accustomed to the weirdness of this place has been unusually easy. Residents take the bizarre in such casual stride that you’re more likely to stick out should you make a fuss about it all and after a while, seeing the odd oddity around had quickly become the norm.

At Stan’s vague reveal of his brother’s disappearance and, as everyone else calls them, his travels, the notion had been surprisingly easy to fathom in the context of such an already weird place. Utterly incredible, yet somehow very in line with this town.

Ford has never brought it up to you himself beyond a rare, fleeting mention, but you’re aware that he’s apparently spent significant time in places that other people might only dream of.

You’re sure he knows of your vague awareness but you know better than to poke around in other people’s sore wounds without permission.

Stan had warned that neither he nor his brother were predisposed to telling everyone and anyone about his time away and you can’t really blame them. From what you know (and can imagine), it can’t have been all fun and games.

“I think he’s got, like, PTSD or somethin’,” Stan had said that night, sounding genuinely heartbroken about it. “So don’t go sniffing around him, alright? He’s…. It’s difficult. Everyone’s been through a lot. Maybe we’ll tell you about it properly one day.”

You understand, of course. Whatever has gone on in their lives is clearly significant and you’re still an outsider. A year is no time at all in the grand scheme of things and they’re a tightly-knit, protective family. They’ve no reason to fill you in on their traumatic family history just because you help around the house and you’ve no right to know it, but you’re willing to earn their trust and if the stories come with it, then so be it.

Although slow to start, things have been going well so far and you’re closer than ever with them, so every titbit Ford drops has you on tenterhooks immediately.

“Besides,” Ford says, still on the subject of his thrilling mushroom discoveries, “their lack of toxicity isn’t even the most exciting part!” He adjusts his glasses and you can tell he's gearing up into scientist-mode.

Behind you, Stan sighs, long-suffering.

“I thought they tasted significantly more intense than a regular mushroom, so once I’d confirmed that they were safe for general human consumption, I asked Dipper to try them. He reported them to be, in his words, 'beefy'. Now, Umami is the most commonly associated flavour with regard to mushrooms because of naturally occurring glutamate, but monosodium glutamate, which would deepen the flavour even more and fall in line with mine and Dipper's taste tests, isn't, and I doubt the gnomes are out there spraying crops with MSG. They haven't the tools for that, I've checked. Anyway, I asked Mabel to try them and she said they tasted, quote, ‘like chocolate stirred by puppies and angels’,”

Here, Ford pauses to laugh fondly before he goes on:

“Which is most certainly not a common flavour of mushroom. So my hypothesis is that they change taste based on whoever touches them and I've been meaning to test them again, seeing as we ate the first batch before I could record the findings properly. We'd be killing two birds with one stone, really.”

You have to fight back a smile. The way he lights up when he talks about his stupid fucking mushrooms is beyond cute and you always enjoy watching him get passionate about his projects, especially when he veers off course on silly tangents that he deems relevant.

But Ford has never asked you to accompany him before which makes this event all the more alluring. It's a privilege to be invited along and as much as you want to jump at the chance, you do have one worry:

“What about the storm?”

At the table, Stan pushes his chair back with a screech and stands up. “Exactly. TV said it's gonna be a bad one and I'm not paying for another newspaper ad if you kill our housekeeper just because you wanna show off again.”

Ford sputters. “I'm not showing off, Stanley! This is about science!”

It should be worrying that his main concern is his pride over your potential death-by-negligence, but the way the top of his ears turn red at his brother's accusation overrules your concern. He's disgustingly adorable when he gets embarrassed.

Dipper chooses that exact moment to trot past his great uncle's side and into the kitchen, giving you a bright, exhausted smile. He’s shed his workout gear for a t-shirt and a fresh pair of sweats, and his hair is slightly damp. “Dinner smells good,” he yawns. “I'm starving. I got ten whole reps in today, right, Grunkle Ford?” He looks especially proud about it.

Ford shucks off his ire to give his nephew a warm smile. “That you did, my boy. Up two compared to last week, by my calculations. You're going to be giving me a run for my money before the summer is over.”

Dipper rubs the back of his neck, bashful, but the way he's beaming betrays his excitement. “I wouldn't go that far….”

“Nice work, dude,” you grin, offering a hand out for a high five.

He takes the bait and slaps your palm with his before fetching himself a soda. “So, how long ‘til dinner?”

You wince inwardly. He'll be hungry enough to eat a horse by now and you can't let him subsist on snacks after all the exercise he's done today. It won't help him build the muscle you know he so desperately wants if all he eats are chips, dips and sodas.

“You better stock up on snacks tonight, kid,” Stan chuckles as he reaches for his own bag of chips that he already has open the table top. “Somebody forgot to get ingredients.”

You shoot Stan a venomous look and at Dipper's disappointed little ‘wait, what?’, you turn back to Ford. Storm be damned, the idea of letting down a child makes you feel worse than getting stuck in a downpour ever could, and you know you'll regret it but what other choice do you have? You've done stupider things for less.

“You're sure the patch isn't far from here?” You ask Ford, giving in with a sigh. “And we'll beat the storm?”

Ford beams at your change of heart, and that, combined with the knowledge of a well-fed charge, instantly makes your agreement worth it. His moods vary like the wind sometimes and you’re always eager to see him happy because you know that it means he’ll spend more time talking to you.

“We'll be in and out in under an hour, you have my word,” he assures you. “I know that place like the back of my hand.”

You sigh again. “Fine. I'll go with you to get the mushrooms.”

Dipper slips back out of the kitchen. Usually, you're sure he'd inquire about your task and ask to come along, but it seems he really is thoroughly exhausted from his gym session and he takes an early leave. Poor kid.

Ford nods, pleased. “Give me a moment to shower and change. I'll put together some supplies and then we can leave.”

“Sure,” you smile. “And thank you, Doctor Pines. I appreciate the help.”

Ford grins, giving you a nod, and then he’s following his nephew out of the kitchen, sweeping down the hallway to sort out his things.

You make use of the spare time to tidy up a little and lower the gas on the stock as low as it will go, then take the pan off the heat. If Ford means what he says about getting in and out quickly, you might have a chance at saving the rest of the prep and it would be a shame to have to start everything over again.

You clean up your workstation and make sure everything is safely put aside before taking a seat at the table to wait.

It's then that you realise Stan is watching you closely. He’s smirking, and it always makes you a little nervous when he wears that mischievous look.

“What?” You ask him hesitantly.

“You can just call him Ford, y’know,” Stan says, slumping back in his chair and looking amused. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t mind….”

You roll your eyes, shrugging one shoulder. “Not this again. I told you before, he's never asked me to call him anything else. I did the same for you when I first started, didn't I?”

“Yeah, and I told you to stop because you made me sound like my old man,” Stan gripes through a mouthful of potato chips.

“Exactly, and that's your prerogative,” you say, a little defensively.

You're telling the truth; Ford hasn’t ever asked you to call him something less formal, even if you might like to try the taste of something more intimate on your tongue. “Ford has earned his title, I’m not going to take it away from him.”

Stan snorts. “Oh, I bet he loves that.”

“What?”

“You, stroking his ego and running around after him like a lost puppy,” Stan says, amused.

“First of all, I run around for everyone in this house like a lost puppy, it's literally my job,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Secondly, I’m not stroking his ego. The guy’s smart and he’s got an armful for doctorates. I’m just…. Acknowledging that.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, sceptical.

“What now?” You huff.

“Nothing.”

“Stan,” you say sternly. “Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh come on,” he says, trying and failing to keep the smirk off of his face. “Could you be any more obvious? You're worse than Dipper was when he came back after all that time, hanging off his every word and getting all googly-eyed over him like the sun shines out of his ass.”

“I don’t-“

“‘Yes Doctor Pines, no Doctor Pines’,” Stan simpers, putting on a poor imitation of your voice. “Take me out to the woods and experiment on me, Doctor Pines!’”

You can feel your face heat up. “You're such an asshole sometimes, you know that? And he isn’t experimenting on me, he asked me to help hi-”

“Show me your magic mushroo -“

Someone clears their throat in the kitchen doorway and both you and Stan whip your heads around to follow the source of the noise. Much to your horror, Ford is waiting for you, clad in jeans and a trademark red turtleneck along with a pair of filthy hiking boots. There's a sizable backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders and he doesn’t look very amused at his brother's antics.

“Are you done?” He asks, levelling Stan with a searing look.

Stan opens his mouth, still grinning, and Ford cuts him off instantly. “Actually forget that, I know you’re not,” he says. “You never are.”

Then he turns his attention to you.

You’re trying very hard not to melt into a humiliated puddle on the floor and under his gaze you feel yourself slip just a little further down into your seat.

His gaze softens somewhat, almost sympathetic, and he gestures vaguely towards the front door down the hall. “If you're not too busy being harassed, I'm ready to set off,” he says.

You really rather wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now, but alas, you do need those stupid mushrooms…..

“Sure,” you say faintly, scrambling up from your seat.

Ford heads off towards the foyer and you try to compose yourself with a deep breath before you follow him, glancing back to stick your tongue out at Stan again.

Stanley laughs at your awkwardness and as you hurriedly trot towards the hall, he pretends to fan himself dramatically.

“Three bags full, Doctor Pines,” Stan grins, and then you're shutting the kitchen door on him before you put your job on the line with the insult you're lining up in your head.

Stan thinks he's endlessly funny when it comes to winding you up over Ford and if you show how much he gets under your skin with it, he'll only get worse. You think he might be doing it in the hopes of putting you off his brother, but he’ll need to try a lot harder than that.

Instead of encouraging him, you follow in Ford's footsteps down the short, oak panelled hallway until you reach the front door.

Ford has already donned his reliable tan trench coat, patiently waiting for you to pull your own jacket and boots on. So much of the town is woven between the forest that you practically live in hiking shoes these days and it doesn't take you long to be readily dressed and warm.

Once you’re sorted, Ford swings the heavy oak front door open. A well-timed gust of cool wind blusters in as he does so, ruffling your clothes and hair, and instantly you realise the weather is much more intimidating when face to face with it.

It's incredibly dull out here. In the short time that Ford and Dipper have ended their routine and you've packed your things up, the sky has gotten impossibly darker. The winds must have herded more clouds overhead than you’d realised and the light has faded so much that you'd be forgiven for assuming it to be almost night time. When you check your watch, however, it still reads barely 6PM.

Ford must catch the concern on your face because he picks up on your worry straight away. “It's just overcast,” he reassures you. “I’ve seen plenty of storms like this in the time I’ve lived here. We'll have enough time to make it there and back before it gets too dark, and I brought torches as a precaution.”

That makes you feel a little better, at least. You know he’s an experienced outdoorsman and he’d probably be able to find his way around here blindfolded and hogtied. If you have to go out in risky weather with anyone, Ford is your best bet.

With the stride of a uniquely confident man, Ford steps out into the evening with a sharp breath inward and a contented sigh, taking in the awaiting scent of petrichor. He holds the door open for you with one hand and gestures for you to follow with the other, offering you a rakish grin.

“Shall we?”

And when he smiles at you like that, what choice do you have?

A/N: Yay! You made it to the end!

So firstly, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post another work! These take a bit of time for me to write because I tend to write the entire work in one go from start to finish before I begin posting and I've also been unwell/busy, so it took a backseat for a bit but here we are!

Secondly, as I posted at the start, this is going to be a small series and will start as a decently sized multi-chapter fic. There will be smut and I already have most of it written. Your patience will be rewarded!

Please consider supporting me on ao3 also :)

[bangtanintotheroom]

Just Like Candy (M)(Teaser)

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

🔊 candy - doja cat (spotify | soundcloud) 🔊

• Pairing: S.Coups x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Smut

• Rating: 18+

• Words (teaser): 583

• Summary: Following a breakup, Seungcheol is looking for a distraction for the night. You catch his eye with your red lips and the rest is history.

• Warnings/themes: mentions of a breakup, sulky Cheol 🥲, drinking, swearing, one night stand, flirting, making out, dirty talk, handjobs, fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), c*me swallowing, strength kink, manhandling, hint of begging

• Notes: Yes, yes, I know. "There goes AJ falling for another leader!" I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT! SO WHAT IF I LIKE A RELIABLE MAN HUH, HUH 🤬 *deep breaths* Anyways. Just enjoy me starting to simp for Mr. Coups and watch as I slowly become a Carat over time 😊

• Teaser Notes: Teasers are a WIP and will not fully reflect the final draft, warnings and themes are subject to change. If you want to be tagged when the final draft is released, either leave a reply or shoot me an ask! PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE PRESENT IN YOUR BIO OR YOU WILL NOT BE TAGGED.

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @kiestrokes @swga-ficrecs @hyunjinsjeans @firesighgirl

Reminder that I have a permanent taglist if you're interested in all future fics I post!

“Yah, is he on his phone again?”

Wonwoo replied to Seungkwan’s question from the front with, “He sure is.”

Every other occupant groaned in exasperation, Chan peering around him to scold, “Seungcheol-hyung, focus! You’re supposed to have fun with us tonight, not pine over her!”

“Just block her already!”

Seungcheol was quick to snap at Joshua’s quip, “No, because then I’ll look bitter.”

“So?”

Seungkwan turned around in the passenger seat to look directly at him, seeming as if he was about to give the most unhelpful advice ever.

“Hyung, you want my suggestion?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Fuck her feelings, respectfully—” He was quick to throw in that word after the elder’s face began twisting in displeasure. “—she decided to end it and she’s out there living her best life while you’re moping around. Be selfish for once and focus on your well-being!”

Chan joined in, “Exactly! Are you going to let her distract you from having a good time with us tonight?”

The eldest wanted to fight back on instinct, but the more he stewed on his friends’ words, the more he realized that they had a point.

What was the use in getting in his feelings? He’d just end up being the downer of the group and waste the effort they put in to have him get dressed and come out. Even though it had been a while since he went to a party of this size, the tiniest part of him was excited. His ex was the type to avoid get togethers like this, so he often put off the guys’ invites in favor of pleasing her.

But she wasn’t around anymore…

He sighed heavily. Hopefully, he’d be distracted enough that she wouldn’t run through his mind until he got back to his bed and deleted more of their couple pictures.

“No, I’m not.”

“Last chance to back out.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help but knit his brows a bit as he pondered. Was he really about to fool around with a complete stranger?

He didn’t need to see Wonwoo’s flabbergasted expression downstairs to know that this was somewhat out-of-character for him. Even when he was single, getting in bed with someone he had only known for a couple of hours was a thought he never entertained. But this was now and he was, to put it lightly, yearning for some physical contact that would keep him distracted for the night.

And quite frankly, he didn’t want to say no to you.

“Seungcheol?”

The light call of his name brought him out of his thoughts, looking down to see you gazing up with mild concern.

“You alright?”

He was quick to nod and smile reassuringly, replying, “Yes. Sorry, just…got in my head for a bit.”

Your expression eased up, tongue clicking as you gave his hands a squeeze.

“Well, we can’t have any more of that. C’mon.”

You maneuvered Seungcheol around so his back was facing the bed now.

“Quit thinking about your ex and focus.”

“Believe me, I’m trying. I might need a little more help on your end.”

With the hint of encouragement in his voice, it seemed to shift you into a more domineering mood, cherry lips twisting into an undaunted grin while you let go of his hands.

“Of course. Even if it’s for a moment—“ All of a sudden, he felt a push to his chest and found himself falling to the bed before looking up at your salacious smile. “—I’ll make you forget all about her.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙i like shiny things 🧁 | LS2˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: logan sargeant x faceless y/n reader (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: nothing but fluff plz ignore the dates on the tweets it's nearly 1am 💀

summary: in which logan soft launches his new baker gf but everyone puts the puzzle pieces together faster than expected

song

my masterlist

part 2!!! (yourbff x DR3)

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, danielricciardo, and 4,738 others

yourusername life lately 🥐

view all 1,054 comments

user1 omg crumpets is growing so big

liked by yourusername

yourbff are u trying to soft launch

yourbff y/n are u soft launching without telling me

yourusername i am doing no such thing

yourbff answer ur phone

user2 the f1 drivers in the likes r suspicious

user3 right?? like have we missed something

user4 the bakery looks so amazing y/n i cant wait for the opening 🫶

liked by yourusername

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 68,857 others

logansargeant spending the break from racing wisely (i think)

view all 7,328 comments

oscarpiastri oh hello

user5 what do u know

user6 does he have a gf??

user7 a girl? is this new information

alex_albon interesting 🧐

liked by logansargeant and yourusername

yourbff hi logan

logansargeant hello

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, yourbff and 11,938 others

yourusername my bakery is officially open 🧁 thank u to everyone who came down today & to my friends nd family who helped out .. i cant believe this is my life i am so grateful

tagged: yourbff

view all 7,012 comments

logansargeant ❤️

liked by yourusername

user8 so proud of u y/n <3

liked by yourusername

user9 wow i need to visit

alex_albon was smuggled a cupcake

yourusername thoughts?

alex_albon we will be back tomorrow

yourusername 🥰🥰

user10 what is going on here

yourbff never been so proud in my life 😢🩷

liked by yourusername

twitter ->

instagram ->

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 87,381 others

logansargeant third wheelin

view all 13,176 comments

user13 HEAR ME OUT

alex_albon those cupcakes are for me

logansargeant go away

liked by yourusername

user14 waittt oomf might've been onto something bc that dog looks exactly like crumpets 💀

user15 THAT IS CRUMPETS

oscarpiastri i never make it onto these posts

alex_albon me neither mate

oscarpiastri are we not friends anymore

logansargeant you are clingy

oscarpiastri what happened to bros before hoes

yourusername excuse me

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon and 8,721 others

yourusername another day another bake 🍒

view all 3,675 comments

user13 y/n we know

user16 we know

user17 i think we know

alex_albon well u tried

yourusername i warned him

logansargeant cat's out the bag

yourusername you mean dog?

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon and oscarpiastri

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 78,042 others

logansargeant her ❤️

tagged: yourusername

view all 32,657 comments

user13 thank you everyone

liked by yourusername

yourusername 🩷🧁

liked by logansargeant

yourbff FINALLY

yourbff NOW GET ME IN THAT PADDOCK

liked by yourusername, logansargeant and danielricciardo

user18 everybody say sorry user13

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, yourbff and 23,839 others

yourusername i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings 🩷🪽

tagged: logansargeant

view all 13,847 comments

logansargeant i love you

yourusername i love you 🍰

user13 they r so personal to me

user19 parents

yourbff this could be me & daniel ricciardo but u insist on keeping us apart for some reason

danielricciardo are we being cock blocked?

yourbff AM I BEING PRANKED RIGHT NOW

logansargeant you're welcome

THE END 🩷

[emjayewrites]

Sakura Dreams 🌸 🇯🇵 🗼Jules Kounde (2/6)

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be a guys trip to Japan after a disappointing ending to Euros, however, fate had another thing in mind.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!blackOC (Ayo Pratt) (faceclaim joie.ade)

WARNINGS: cursing, poor google translations, football b.s & drama, flirty!jules, eventual smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0

A/N: Jules is in Japan, so of course I had to make a short series about it. Also, if you're a Jules girl, please let me know and I'll tag you in more chapters.

Ayo stirred awake, her head pounding slightly from the sake-induced haze of the previous night. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of her hotel room, casting a soft glow on the minimalist decor. The distant hum of Tokyo traffic and the gentle whir of the air conditioning created a soothing white noise.

As she blinked away the sleep, memories of the night before flooded back. Their arrival in Tokyo, the chance encounter with Jules and his friends, the karaoke taxi ride, and the club. Jules' warm smile and the way his eyes had lingered on her throughout the evening stood out vividly in her mind.

Reaching for her phone, Ayo saw a flurry of notifications. A message from her parents asking if she was safe and well popped up first. She quickly replied, knowing they probably wouldn't answer right away due to the time difference between Japan and New Jersey.

Several emails from her agency caught her attention, along with one from her realtor. Excitement bubbled up as she read that she'd secured a cozy studio flat in Islington, London - a borough known for its trendy cafes and safe, village-like atmosphere.

Amidst the good news, a familiar name appeared in her messages: Jamaal. With a sigh, Ayo deleted the texts without reading them, contemplating whether it was finally time to block her persistent ex.

A muffled noise from the living room interrupted her thoughts. Curious, Ayo padded out of her room, only to witness AK attempting to tiptoe out of Gigi's room. Their eyes met, and AK flashed her a sheepish smile.

"Morning," he said groggily, running a hand over his face.

"Morning," Ayo replied, biting back a smirk.

"Uh, we were thinking of grabbing breakfast. You girls want to join?"

Ayo nodded, her mind already racing with questions for Gigi. She had expected this kind of behavior from her cousin Nikki, not Gigi. "Sure, sounds good. Let me wake the others."

As AK made his way out, Ayo couldn't help but shake her head in amusement. This trip was certainly off to an interesting start, and she had a feeling the surprises were far from over.

Ayo meandered through the suite, gently rousing her friends. Nikki grumbled and pulled the covers over her head, while Symone bounced out of bed with surprising energy. Gigi emerged from her room looking slightly disheveled but grinning from ear to ear.

After waking everyone, Ayo retreated to the bathroom for a quick shower. As the warm water cascaded over her, she found her thoughts drifting to Jules. His charming smile, the way he held her close while dancing, the feel of his dick…

Lord knows the man was working with a third leg! Jesus be a fence!

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. With both groups deciding to explore Japan together, she had 13 more days until she'd be rid of him. Part of her dreaded that ending and was curious about what could possibly happen between them.

Stepping out of the shower, Ayo dried off and got dressed. She chose a mini skirt and an anime-inspired crop top, fixing her hair back into two puffs. Her makeup was simple – a touch of mascara, some blush, and a dab of Fenty's Choco lip gloss.

"Ayo! You ready?" Nikki called from the living room.

They made their way down to the breakfast buffet, quickly spotting Jules and his friends at a large table.

Symone nudged Ayo, grinning. "Go sit next to your man."

"He's not my man..." Ayo muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes but took the empty seat next to Jules anyway. He looked effortlessly cool in an anime t-shirt, shorts, and Nike sneakers. His dreads were pulled back in a ponytail, with a couple of locs framing his face.

Jules slid a mug of coffee towards her. "Figured you might need this," he said with a smile. Ayo nodded gratefully, murmuring a soft thanks. He then produced a sealed package of ibuprofen. "Thought you might need this too."

Her friends exchanged knowing glances, barely containing their teasing smiles.

As the girls headed to the buffet, Ayo surveyed the spread. There was a mix of Japanese and Western breakfast items – steamed rice, miso soup, and grilled fish alongside pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

While filling their plates, Symone leaned in close to Ayo. "You know, you should relax a bit. Maybe Jules could help with that," she said with a wink. "You know you haven't had that good pipe in a long, long time."

"Bye, Sy," Ayo laughed and shook her head, but inwardly, she considered it. Her last relationship with Jamaal had been a disaster. He'd been controlling, jealous, and unsupportive of her modeling career. The breakup had been messy, and he still couldn't seem to let go. Plus, with her impending move to London…

France ain't nothing but a train ride away, chile, an intrusive thought reminded her. She could potentially see Jules… but she quickly pushed that idea aside; she wasn't that desperate for dick.

Back at the table, conversation flowed easily as they discussed their plans for the day.

"I was thinking we could hit up KITH," Nicholas suggested.

"Ooh, and some vintage shopping!" Gigi chimed in excitedly.

"We should definitely check out the Teamlab digital art museum," Wilhelm added. "It's incredible."

"And maybe end the day with a trip to the Tokyo Tower?" AK proposed.

Jules nodded along. "Sounds great. I brought my Nikon, so I'll be the designated photographer for the day."

The girls, except Ayo, squealed in delight. "Yes! The Instagram content is going to be fire!" Symone exclaimed.

As they finished breakfast and prepared to head out, Ayo found herself both excited and nervous about the day ahead. She couldn't deny the pull she felt towards Jules, but she also couldn't shake the nagging voice reminding her of her goals and the complications a vacation fling could bring.

Still, as they left the hotel and stepped into the bustling Tokyo streets, with Jules walking close beside her, Ayo decided to let herself enjoy the moment. After all, wasn't that what vacations were for? And by the way Jules was practically staring into her soul, what was one small trip to PoundTown?

Fuck me, this nigga was going to turn me into a fein.

Jules couldn't help but admire Ayo as they explored Tokyo's bustling streets. As the group made their way through the city, Jules took some candid photos of Ayo and her friends, capturing their excitement and the vibrant energy of Tokyo.

The way she looked in that mini skirt, showing off her shapely legs, was driving him crazy. The skirt hugged her curves perfectly, and the slight sway of her hips as she walked was mesmerizing. Her skin seemed to glow, and every movement she made caused his dick to stir.

She turned, giving him a natural, radiant smile that he quickly immortalized in a photograph.

"Perfect," he murmured, reviewing the shot. Too fucking perfect.

When they reached the subway station, confusion set in among the girls as they tried to decipher the complex transit map. The colorful lines and Japanese characters seemed to blur together, leaving them feeling overwhelmed.

"Okay, I'm officially lost," Nikki declared, throwing her hands up in defeat.

Gigi squinted at the map. "Yeah, we need someone to translate all of this."

Jules and Wilhelm, having visited Japan before, stepped in to help. "Don't worry, I've got you," Jules assured them, moving closer to the group.

"Here, let me show you," he offered, guiding them through the ticket process. "See these colored lines? Each represents a different route. We want the Ginza line, which is this orange one here."

As Jules explained the intricacies of Tokyo's subway system, he couldn't help but notice how close he was standing to Ayo. Her scent, a subtle exotic musk, was intoxicating.

They made their way to the platform, squeezing into the crowded train car. Jules found himself, as usual, close to Ayo, both of them holding onto the overhead handrail.

"This reminds me of rush hour in New York," Ayo commented, smiling up at Jules.

"Oh yeah? You miss the crowded subways?" Jules asked, his eyes meeting hers.

"Surprisingly, a little. It's part of the city's charm, I guess. The energy, the mix of people…"

"I know what you mean," Jules nodded.

They continued chatting, Jules giving Ayo his full attention. He found himself completely engrossed in their conversation, enjoying their easy rapport.

"So, what made you choose London for your next move?" Jules asked, genuinely curious.

Ayo's eyes lit up. "It's a great market for models, and I've always loved British fashion. Plus, the agency I signed with has a strong presence there."

"That's amazing," Jules replied, impressed by her ambition. "London's a great city. Different vibe from New York, but I think you'll love it."

As the train swayed, Ayo stumbled slightly, bumping into Jules. He steadied her with a gentle hand on her waist, their eyes meeting for a moment before Ayo quickly looked away, a slight flush on her cheeks.

Finally, they reached their stop and made their way to KITH. The store was a streetwear enthusiast's dream - sleek displays showcasing the latest collaborations and limited-edition pieces.

Jules spotted a familiar face and broke into a grin. "Yo, Kenji!" he called out, approaching one of the employees and greeting him with a friendly dap. "Good to see you, man. How's it been?"

Kenji's face lit up with excitement. "Jules! Welcome back, bro. It's been great, busy as always. You here for anything specific?"

As Jules caught up with Kenji, the rest of the group dispersed throughout the store. Ayo found herself drawn to a display of vibrant sneakers, while Symone was eyeing a rack of graphic tees.

"Hey, check this out," Wilhelm called, holding up a limited edition jacket. "This collab is fire."

Jules took more photos as they explored, capturing Gigi's excited expression as she tried on a pair of sunglasses, and Nikki's contemplative look as she examined a watch display.

After making their purchases, the group headed out, stopping at a nearby street vendor for a snack. The sweet aroma of candied fruit filled the air, making their mouths water.

"Oh my god, we have to try these," Symone exclaimed, already fishing out her wallet.

Jules watched in amusement as Ayo bit into a skewer of candied strawberries, her eyes lighting up at the sweet taste.

"Good?" he asked, chuckling at her enthusiastic nod.

"Mmm, it's amazing," Ayo managed between bites. "Here, try some," she offered, holding out her skewer to Jules.

He hesitated for a moment before leaning in and taking a bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, and he nodded in agreement as he licked the remnants of sugar off his lips. "So good."

Jules groaned inwardly at the look in her eyes - a combination of lust and curiosity had darkened her brown orbs. This was a look he knew all too well, and as a professional athlete, tons of women gave him the exact look she did, however, none of them made him want to act on it. Ayo was beginning to chip at any resolve he'd managed to have, and Jules welcomed it without a fight.

"Okay, but can we talk about how these are, like, the prettiest snacks ever?" Gigi chimed in, snapping them both out of their impasse. She held up her skewer of perfectly glazed fruit for a photo.

Symone struck a pose with her candied apple. "Instagram is gonna love this. Jules, work your magic!"

Jules laughed, turning briefly away from Ayo to snap a few shots of the girls with their colorful treats. The resulting photos were a perfect blend of Tokyo's vibrant street life and the group's infectious joy.

They then headed towards the vintage shops, and Jules found himself walking beside Ayo again. "So, what's been your favorite part of Tokyo so far?" he asked.

Ayo thought for a moment. "Honestly? This. Just exploring, trying new things, being with friends… and making new ones," she added, giving Jules a warm smile.

He felt a flutter in his chest at her words. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean," he replied, returning her smile.

As they entered the vintage store, Ayo's eyes widened at the array of luxury items on display. Glass cases housed gleaming Rolex watches and delicate Chanel jewelry, while racks were filled with vintage Louis Vuitton bags and Hermès scarves.

"Oh my god, look at this Dior dress!" Symone squealed, holding up a shimmering gown that caught the light beautifully. "It's giving me major Old Hollywood vibes."

Gigi was already trying on a pair of oversized Gucci sunglasses, striking poses in front of a floor-length mirror. "How do I look?" she asked, turning to the group with a dramatic flair.

"Like a movie star hiding from the paparazzi," Nikki laughed, snapping a quick photo on her phone.

Ayo chuckled at her friends' antics, her gaze drifting to Jules. He was examining a Rolex watch, his brow furrowed in concentration. She couldn't help but admire how sexy he looked, completely absorbed in the timepiece. His long, elegant fingers traced the watch's face delicately. Ayo had always been drawn to men with large hands, and Jules' was particularly strong and huge. Combined with his dreads, he was ticking all the boxes on her attraction scale.

I wonder how those hands would feel wrapped around my neck...

Suddenly, Jules caught her eye and winked, beckoning her over. "Hey, what do you think of this?" he asked, holding out his wrist to show her the watch.

Ayo leaned in to examine it, her eyes widening as she spotted the price tag. "Wow, that's quite a steal in yen, but still…" She let out a low whistle. "You're a big spender, huh?"

Jules laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, just treating myself. It's not often I find pieces like this. Plus, you know what they say - time is money," he added with a playful wink.

"Oh, that was terrible," Ayo groaned, but she couldn't help smiling at his cheesy joke.

He glanced around the store before his eyes landed on a display case. Pointing to a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet, he asked, "What about that? Do you want it?"

Ayo studied the piece, admiring its delicate design. The golden clover-shaped charms sparkled under the display lights, and for a moment, she was tempted. "It's beautiful, but nah. I'm not really into jewelry that much."

"No? What are you into then?" Jules asked, genuinely curious.

"Bags, mostly," Ayo replied with a smile. "There's just something about a good bag, you know? It's practical, but it can also make a whole outfit."

Jules nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye as he began listing designer names. "Ah, so you're more of a Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Hermès kind of girl?"

As Jules pronounced the brand names, Ayo felt a shiver run down her spine. His accent was like warm honey, rich and smooth, making even the simplest words sound irresistibly alluring. "You make them sound so fancy," she teased.

"Well, they are fancy," Jules retorted with a grin. "But I bet you could make even a paper bag look chic."

Ayo felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the compliment. "Smooth talker," she muttered, but she couldn't hide her smile.

"It's not smooth talking if it's the truth," Jules replied, his voice soft and sincere.

Their moment was interrupted by Wilhelm calling out, "Jules, come check this out!"

As Jules excused himself, Ayo found herself watching him walk away, admiring the confident set of his shoulders and the easy grace with which he moved.

"Girl, you've got it bad," Symone whispered, suddenly appearing at Ayo's side.

"What? No, I don't," Ayo protested weakly.

Symone raised an eyebrow. "Mhm. Sure. And I'm the Queen of England." She nudged Ayo playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Girl, just fuck him already. You know you want to."

"Bye, Symone." Ayo rolled her eyes, but she couldn't entirely deny the flutter in her stomach when she thought about Jules.

What is there to lose? You're single, and he's single....might as well...

They continued browsing, and she found herself stealing glances at him. She watched as he joked with his friends and helped Gigi reach a high shelf. There was something so effortlessly sexy about him, a warmth that seemed to draw people in.

"Hey," Jules said, catching her attention as they prepared to leave the store. "I'm really glad we met, you know."

Ayo felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. "Yeah," she replied softly. "Me too."

As they stepped back out into the bustling Tokyo street, Ayo couldn't help but wonder what the rest of this trip might bring. She had come to Japan to celebrate her move to London, but now… now there was Jules. And despite her best efforts, she was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he might be worth taking a chance on.

He wanted her. Bad.

Jules wanted Ayo like an addict needed their next fix, like a parched man craved water in the desert, like a moth drawn irresistibly to a flame. His desire for her had grown to an insatiable hunger that gnawed at him as the day went on.

That night, they found themselves in another club in Tokyo. The neon lights painted the scene in vibrant hues as the music pulsed through the air, a heavy beat that matched the rhythm of Jules's racing heart. He leaned against the bar, a drink in hand, his eyes fixed on Ayo as she danced with her friends. She moved with a grace and confidence that left him breathless, her body swaying to the music, her hips shaking in a way that drove him wild.

Merde.

Jules took a long sip of his drink, trying to cool the heat that surged through him, but it was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull of Ayo, the way her mini skirt clung to her curves, showing off her shapely legs. Her skin glistened under the lights, and every movement she made seemed to invite him closer, to touch, to taste, to claim.

A slight ping of jealousy tugged at him when AK mentioned spending the night in GiGi's room. Jules hadn't even realized when AK snuck out of their suite. Honestly, he wanted to have what AK did. He wished he were the one who had spent the night with Ayo. It felt like they continuously took a step forward, then two steps back—a cat-and-mouse game. Usually, Jules loved the chase, but this time he was starting to feel like maybe she wasn't into him the same way. And if she was, what type of game was she playing?

His gaze never wavered from her as she laughed and danced, her joy infectious. He felt a mix of pride and desire watching her, knowing she was enjoying herself but also wanting to be the one making her smile like that. The way she looked tonight, so effortlessly sexy, made his fingers ache to touch her, his lips to taste her.

Jules's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't shake the image of her from his mind—the way her name felt on his tongue, the way her scent lingered in his senses, the way her touch electrified his skin. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything, and the knowledge that she was so close, yet not his, was driving him mad.

The club was a blur of lights and music, but all Jules could see was Ayo. He watched as she danced, her movements hypnotic, drawing him in deeper. He took another sip of his drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol, but it did little to dull the edge of his desire.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. Jules set his drink down and made his way through the crowd, his eyes locked on Ayo. She noticed him approaching, her smile widening as he drew near. Jules reached her, his hands finding her waist, pulling her close. The heat of her body against his was a sweet torture, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice thick. "You're driving me crazy dancing like this."

Jules was undoubtedly feeling the effects of the brown liquor - liquid courage coursing through his veins, and he could only imagine the demon time he'd be on as the night progressed.

Ayo turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. "Maybe that's the point," she teased, her voice a sultry whisper.

Jules's heart skipped a beat. "Fuckin' tease."

She laughed, a sound that sent shivers down his spine, then turned back around and began to whine temptingly against his bulging erection. It was the same move she had pulled the night before, but Jules decided not to hold back this time. He wanted to show her just how much he needed her, craved her.

He matched her rhythm, catching every whine. They danced against each other sexily, hips thrusting to the beat of the music. Jules's arms wrapped tighter around her waist, his hands moving downwards to tease her skin. One hand cupped her ass, squeezing gently, while the other wrapped around her throat.

When he did that, he heard her let out a moan. He thought he was imagining it due to the alcohol, but when she did it again, he growled in response.

Freaky ass girl.

However, he couldn't deny how much that turned him on even more. His dick was hard as stone now, practically begging to be released from his pants. But he needed to think strategically about this. What was his plan to have Ayo in his bed tonight? How was he going to go about it?

Jules leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Keep dancing against me like this, you're going fuck around and find out."

"Find out what?" she replied, causing him to let out a bemused chuckle.

"Come back to the hotel with me."

She turned her head slightly, just enough for him to see the smirk playing on her lips. "And why should I do that?" she asked, her tone playful yet challenging.

"Because you feel it too. This connection between us," he said, his voice a low growl. "Don't you want to see where it leads?"

Ayo opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Nikki called her name. "Ayo! Symone is sick, we need to head back."

Ayo's expression shifted instantly, concern replacing the playful look in her eyes. "I have to go," she said, her voice filled with urgency. She turned to Jules, her eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, I need to take care of my friend."

Jules felt a pang of disappointment, his hopes for the night dashed. He nodded, understanding the importance of her leaving. "Go, take care of her," he said, his voice gentle despite the frustration gnawing at him. "We'll talk later."

Ayo gave him a quick, grateful smile before hurrying off with Nikki to help Symone. Jules watched them leave, feeling the heat of his arousal throbbing in painful contrast to the sudden cold emptiness beside him. He was left alone on the dance floor, the pulsating music and flashing lights now feeling hollow and mocking.

His erection was the hardest he'd ever experienced, a physical reminder of the night that had slipped through his fingers. Jules sighed, running a hand through his dreads. He needed a cold shower, and maybe another drink, to get through the rest of the night without her.

accordingtoayo and 2 others - Tokyo, Japan

liked by jkeey4, symonenotbiles, gigithegreatest, nikkigal, and others

accordingtoayo: the nyc 🍎 livin’ fast and furious…🚗💨🇯🇵

view all 240 comments….

jamaal_erickson: all this time you in japan and shit? are you gonna answer my phone calls??

jkeey4: full tokyo drift 👌🏾

symonenotbiles: yass baby girl!! ✨👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

gigithegreatest: nj bitches turning up!! 🙌🏾🙌🏾

accordingtoayo • posted on their story 15 hours ago

story comments:

onemanagement: so happy you’re enjoying your vacation!!

badgalriri: Ayo!! Miss u!! 😢

jkeey4: those honey buns tho 🍯 🤤

nikkigal: you should’ve ask jules for that bag 👀👀