#i just live for scenic drives

[drowningmysanity]

The feminine urge to be surrounded by tall trees

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you��re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[guinevereslancelot]

they just don't disassemble castles and rebuild them in different countries like they used to 😔

[peppermintquartz]

Tommy is drinking alone at his and Evan's usual table, waiting for his boyfriend who says he is meeting an old friend, when he notices a handsome dark-haired man walk in. He's wearing a light khaki jacket over a dark brown v-neck tee, all over faded black jeans and hiking boots. Tommy doesn't mean to stare, but when a good-looking stranger appears in his line of sight, he's not going to pretend he isn't appreciative.

The man must've felt Tommy's observation, because his gaze locks in. There's a querying smile on his face, an eyebrow ticking up, and Tommy replies with a faint smile and a slight shake of his head.

To Tommy's surprise, the stranger walks over and takes the seat opposite Tommy. Tommy leans back into his seat, putting some distance between them. "I don't know you, do I?"

"Nah," says the man. "But you're the only friendly face I noticed when I came in, so I figured it would be less awkward to sit here than to stand in the middle of the room, looking for my friend."

He sounds like he may be from Texas, but that isn't a guarantee that he isn't living in Los Angeles - LA is the city holding people from everywhere, an amalgamation of strangers.

Bemused, Tommy scans the man again, and relaxes slightly when he notices a ring on the stranger's left hand.

"Here alone?" Tommy asks.

The man chuckles quietly. "Only for a couple of days while my husband sorts out some admin issues back home. You?"

"Waiting for my boyfriend," Tommy says. "He's supposed to be here already, but he probably got caught in traffic."

"Ugh, driving in this city is a nightmare." The stranger waves down a waiter and places an order for a whisky, neat as well as fancy branded water. "So thankful for Uber. I can't picture having to drive these streets every day."

"I like driving outside of the city," says Tommy. If he were single, he would have offered to show this handsome man some scenic views. As it is, he smiles politely and asks, "Is your friend coming soon?"

"Hopefully! I mean, all I've got is 'I'm on the way, go in first'." The man rolls his eyes. "Can't I hang here till he shows? I like having someone to chat with while waiting. I wouldn't seem so pathetic."

"Maybe we can help you get a table nearby." Tommy doesn't want to sound rude, but he is not risking Evan thinking he is flirting with another guy.

The man tilts his head and scrutinizes Tommy. "You're a good boyfriend," he remarks. "If you'd flirted with me at all, I'd have told Buck to drop you like a hot potato."

Tommy blinks in confusion and then realization. "You're the Texas TK!"

"And you're the LA edition," TK replies with a broad grin. He offers a hand and Tommy shakes it firmly. "Buck's always boasting about you. You do look a lot hotter in person, and the photo Buck sent was plenty hot already."

With an embarrassed duck of his head, Tommy says, "He always sends that one to people, I don't know why."

"Showing off, obviously." TK holds his phone to the side and his front camera is on. "Alright, smile for a we-fie. I'm gonna let Buck know I'm already here charming his man. Maybe that'll get him to teleport." He snaps a quick shot of them both, and as he types a message, he asks, "What do you recommend for a hungry visitor?"

"Lasagne. Or the carbonara, that's quite good too." Tommy slides the menu across.

Just as TK is deciding what he wants for appetizers, Evan materializes next to the table.

"I'm glad you think you can charm my boyfriend," he says, eyes twinkling, as he hugs TK and then sits beside Tommy, kissing him on the cheek, adding, "You are the best TK, by the way."

"Best?" TK asks.

Tommy shrugs. "Third one's an ex-girlfriend."

"So... Could have been, was, and is?" TK winks at Evan. "You appear to have a type, Buckley."

Evan blushes and takes the whiskey from TK's side of the table. "Let's order."

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Okay, so this is a little inspired by @dazzle02's post right here. Enjoy! 🥰

"Let me move in with you," said Evan.

And.

And Tommy looked up at Evan.

Blinking.

There wasn't anything particularly special about tonight. Neither of them had that bad of a shift the day before, all things considered. It was after dinner. They were both in pajamas watching Shark Week. Besides Shark Week, there wasn't anything life-altering or important that would have made Tommy remember this lazy Thursday night.

But then again, something amazing always happened with Evan around.

Life-altering was Evan's modus operandi.

They met when Tommy was flying them into a hurricane. They got together after Evan maimed one of his best friends. Their second official date was at a last-minute hospital wedding when the original wedding had been canceled.

Dating Evan was nothing Tommy had ever experienced before.

And Tommy never wanted to stop.

"What?" Tommy laughed, not sure if he heard that right.

He was staring up at Evan. His head was in Evan's lap and Evan just - he kept playing with the curls in Tommy's hair; staring down at Tommy like he never wanted to look away from Tommy as he said, "Let me move in with you."

And it harkened back to that beer Evan still owed Tommy.

That Tommy was never going to let Evan give him. No, Tommy loved the idea of still being tied like that. To forever joke about the beer Evan still owed him.

"You want to move in with me?" asked Tommy.

And it wasn't that Tommy was against it. The moment Evan brought it up, all Tommy wanted to say was yes, yes, of course, Evan, yes.

But.

They had only been dating maybe four months at this point. Tommy wasn't against the breakneck pace Evan seemed the most comfortable in, but at the same time, that was a big decision. And that wasn't to say that Tommy didn't believe that Evan would want this, but it was always good to be absolutely sure.

"You've got a kickass garage. You've got the best beer in town. I heard a beast lives here. Why wouldn't I want to too?" asked Evan.

"Evan."

"Tommy."

Tommy snorted.

"Tommy, I hate my loft. I hate my fucking loft. I got it with my girlfriend Aly because she liked it, and then she almost immediately broke up with me. I haven't been able to decide on a damn couch in that place. I don't know why I have two balconies," said Evan, "But none of that is even why I'm offering this."

Tommy laughed.

"Offering?"

"Tommy, I - I miss you," said Evan with all his heart; a little broken.

Tommy reached out; placed a hand on Evan's cheek.

"Evan. I'm right here," said Tommy softly.

"I miss you when I wake up and you hadn't slept over. I miss you when I try out a new dish and you're not there to taste-test it. I miss seeing you just randomly reading Chef's Choice or The Dos and Donuts of Love or - or How to Find a Princess or Better Than People or The State of Us on your couch whenever I walk into your house with the key you gave me. I miss the lavender you insist on making your house smell like. I miss you when I get in my car and realize we won't be carpooling. That you won't insist on driving and I won't get to play you music as we start our drive early so we can take a scenic way to my work or yours. I just miss you. All the time. I want to fucking live in your pocket. Which is a lot. I know. But I want that. I want you. And I'm so sure you want that too."

And.

And okay, if they were being honest.

"Evan, I - I wake up and it feels empty if you're not here. If you're not sprawled on top of me when I wake up. If you're not laughing and insisting that we take a shower together. That if we do, we'll be saving water. Despite the fact that you know full well that it takes double the time with how distracted we get. I miss you when I walk up to my coffee maker and you're not there to play the 'guess how Tommy takes his coffee' game that I think you're failing on purpose at this point - "

"No, I'm not," said Evan like a liar.

"Oh, I know you are," laughed Tommy, "But I kind of love that because it's still fun. And I miss you when you're not there to get into my Mustang with that jerry-rigged contraption of yours that somehow forces Bluetooth to work on my stereo. And how you keep showing me all these new and amazing songs I never would have dreamed of finding on my own."

"People are sleeping on Kehlani," said Evan.

"Yeah. I know," agreed Tommy, "And - and I miss you when I don't get to kiss you goodbye and hear you say you'll see me after your shift. And I miss you when you're not there to pick me up or if I'm not there to pick you up and you kiss me hello and ask how my day was and tell me all about yours. And I'm not saying we need to be glued together. But I am saying that every moment I get with you makes my whole day better. My week. My month. My year. My life. And, uh. I don't know, maybe you owe me moving into my house."

Evan laughed.

"Oh, I owe you now, huh?"

"I mean, you offered. Pay up. Move in."

Evan laughed harder, leaning down to kiss Tommy. And it was an awkward angle, and the kiss was a bit messy, but it left Tommy breathless; left Tommy swimming in overwhelming yes.

"Okay. I guess I'm moving in," said Evan happily, his smile soft and so excited.

"Yeah, you are," said Tommy as he pulled Evan back into another mind-blowing kiss.

[kbwrites]

JJK On The Road!

synopsis: how the jjk sorcerers are on a road trip—feat. Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, Utahime

⚝a/n: I had to include baby boy Haibara.

⚝tags: headcanon, Nanami is an emo boy, Gojo is a danger to society.

They all decided to take a roadtrip after graduation… it goes a little something like this

Gojo insisted that he be the one to drive. You assumed that his six eyes would give him some kind of advantage on the road.

You were SO wrong.

Mans is a DEMON on the street. Swerving in and out of traffic, the car is either at 0 or full speed no in-between.

“Huh? Where’d that guy come from?”

“Satoru you literally cut him off-”

“The speed limit is 45”

“Yeah… but that’s more of a suggestion right??”

Of course it isn’t long before you hear the sirens closing in behind you.

“Lisence and registration please.”

“Of course Officer!”

…

“This is your high school ID”

“Oh! Well about that..”

It takes at least 5 years off your life when Satoru is behind the wheel. You somehow manage to arrive to the destination in one piece. Everyone curses him out for endangering their lives (and driving with no license)

“Okay but did you die though?”

Geto is in charge of the AUX (because last time Nanami made everyone cry)

Is the type to put on some chill oldies, and one Abba song (Because Satoru loves Abba).

Loves looking out the window and pointing out cool stuff, bums a cigarette off of Shoko to deal with the stress of Satoru's driving.

“Hey. look at that huge tree.”

The car swerves.

“Wait I don’t see anything!”

“Not you Satoru…”

Is obviously shotgun so he tries his best to stay awake, probably ends up reading a book he brought or reminding Satoru to actually pay attention to the rules of the road.

Shoko is already bored when the car starts, plays “I Spy” with Suguru for all of 3 minutes before falling asleep. After her nap she wakes up and starts taking pictures. Can make even the most mundane thing like riding in car look like an aesthetic Pinterest board. Sneaks pictures of Nanami when he isn’t looking.

“Everyone smile.”

“Wait hold on I want to be in the picture too!”

“Satoru you’re DRIVING.”

Ends up vlogging the trip, texting Utahime to confirm Satoru hasn’t killed them yet.

Nanami did NOT want to go on this trip AT ALL. He was basically forced by Gojo (then coerced by Haibara). He sulks and looking out the window and sighing.

“Nanami stop being Emo”

“I am NOT Emo..”

“Will you stop sulking if I play My Chemical Romance?”

“....”

Brings his DS or something, shows Haibara his animal crossing world. Actually freaks out when Satoru takes a ‘scenic detour’ which adds 3 hours to the trip.

Haibara is in charge of the snacks. And thank god for snacks. 

Brings one cooler for everyone else and one cooler just for Satoru cause that boy can EAT.

Feeds Nanami trail mix

Talks Nanami’s ear off about how excited he is to be done with school </3. Tries to impress Suguru and Satoru by listing off fun facts about each area they drive through.

“Did you know that this is actually the longest stretch of road in the country?”

“Wow. That’s really Something.”

“Did you know that the native flower of this region is the hibiscus?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know that AHHH”

��Satoru swerves the car again, everyone gets thrown around the car.

Utahime  refuses to ride in a car with Gojo driving, so she meets up with you guys in her own car.

[mmmichyyy]

40? for the prompt

#40. "am i your husband or your taxi service?"

the first time it happens, mickey doesn't think much of it.

can you pick me up after my shift? too tired to take the L

when mickey is near the station, he parks the van a block away. force of habit from when he and his brothers used to sneak up and collect from people who owed terry money. plus, he doesn't particularly want ian's coworkers to see their stolen ambulance, even though it's completely unrecognizable after debbie helped them revamp the entire thing and paint over it with the logo sandy designed.

here

i don't see you

i'm parked a block away

pick me up at the station

your legs don't work?

i'm tired :(

i drove the van

it's fine no one will be able to tell lol

mickey rolls his eyes and drops his phone in the cupholder. as he pulls up across the street from the station, he sees ian standing on the curb, chatting with someone wearing a matching EMT uniform, a shorter man with tan skin and curly hair.

mickey honks once, a bit impatient since he's hungry as fuck and there's a large pizza he ordered earlier waiting for them at their apartment. ian lifts his head and smiles. as he waves goodbye to his coworker and jogs over to the van, mickey doesn't miss the way the dude is gaping at mickey with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

the hell is this guy's problem?

"everything okay?" mickey asks, once ian buckles his seatbelt and reclines his seat.

"just tired." ian yawns. "had a long shift today."

"well," mickey puts the van in drive, reaching over the center console to ruffle ian's hair, promptly forgetting ian's weird coworker, "i already ordered a pizza so we can eat then turn in early."

ian smiles sleepily and interlaces his fingers with mickey's. "you're the best husband ever."

mickey shakes his head, biting back a smile. "sappy fucker."

*

after almost two weeks of ian asking to be picked up, mickey suspects something is up. not that he minds or anything, since he makes his own schedule nowadays. after the security business started turning a profit and ian went back to being an emt, he hired a couple of guys to drive the routes so he could work from home and catch up on admin work, freeing up a lot of time in his day to day.

but ian never used to mind the commute. he's the kind of long-legged freak who liked to take the scenic route and go on long runs in the morning, just for fun. absolutely deranged behaviour, in mickey's opinion. but lately, ian has been flashing his kicked-puppy eyes and asking to be chauffeured like a pampered prince and, well. mickey could never resist spending more time with his husband, so he hasn't said anything. not yet, anyway. god he's so whipped.

the excuses ian came up with, however, were more unbelievable as it went on, ranging from the train broke down (mickey knew for a fact it didn't), to spraining his elbow (though he had no problem throwing mickey on the bed later that night with his supposedly injured arm), to how it was going to rain later (it was sunny all day without a cloud in sight).

when mickey tried to call him out on his bullshit, ian either got down on his knees or flipped mickey over and fucked him senseless into the bed, promptly making mickey forget what the hell he was trying to say.

it's gotten to the point where ian stopped making excuses and simply asked mickey to come get him. which truthfully, mickey doesn't mind at all. but he just finds it odd how his beefy athletic husband had gotten so lazy.

"what's with you?" mickey finally asks one day, as ian climbs into the passenger seat.

ian blinks innocently. "what do you mean, dear husband of mine?"

mickey rolls his eyes. "am i your husband or your fuckin' taxi driver? 'cause i've been picking your ass up every day for the past two weeks when you have two perfectly functioning legs."

ian huffs, crossing his arms. "maybe i just want to spend more time with you."

"we live together," mickey points out flatly, "how much more time do you need?"

"i–"

a tap on the glass interrupts them, and mickey turns to see a woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail, enthusiastically gesturing at him to roll down the window.

"the fuck?" mickey turns to ian, whose face has turned slightly pink. "did you forget something at the station?"

"ah, no." ian scratches his head sheepishly. "sue is just being... sue."

sue waves her hand again and mickey reluctantly lowers the window.

"mickey, this is sue, my supervisor, and sue, this is–"

"the elusive husband." sue grins. "i've heard a lot about you, mickey."

mickey raises his brow. "have you now."

"oh sure," she says, ignoring ian's frantic head shaking, "ian won't shut up about you, yapping on and on about mickey this and mickey that. we're all jealous at the station actually, everyone just complains about their partners while ian keeps gushing about how perfect and amazing his husband is. his words."

"huh." that explains a lot, actually, why there was always someone different waiting with ian every time he came to pick him up, and why they all stared at him like a circus freak. "well, i bet ian didn't tell you the time we stole an ambu–"

"okay," ian cuts in loudly, reaching over to turn the key in the ignition, "we're leaving. i'll see you tomorrow, sue."

"come to the company picnic next month," sue calls out. "it's a potluck and everyone is bringing their family. it'll be fun!"

"uh sure," mickey says, even though a social gathering with ian's nosy coworkers sounds like the least fun thing he's ever heard of. he looks over at ian, slumped in his seat, avoiding mickey's eyes. "I'll check my schedule."

once mickey drives around the corner, he playfully flicks his finger at ian's temple and ian rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"you yap about me to your coworkers," mickey teases. "you're so fuckin' whipped."

"whatever," ian grumbles. "stupid sue calling me out."

"is that why you keep asking me to pick you up?" mickey asks, amused. "to parade me around like a little show dog?"

"well, eduardo blabbed to everyone he saw you, then everyone kept asking about you and wanted to see you in person, so..."

"hm." mickey reaches over and brushes his thumb over ian's palm. "what do you say about me?"

ian links their fingers together and sighs. "that you're attentive. funny. caring. protective. loyal. the ideal man."

mickey laughs. "you're really overselling me here, gallagher. did you forget i'm an ex-convict, pimp and drug dealer?"

ian waves him off and continues. "kind. loving. perfect in every single way, except when you leave your socks on the floor. oh and that you're hot as hell with an ass that won't quit."

"you talked about my ass?"

"okay, i didn't say the last part," ian amends, "your ass belongs to just me. but i meant everything else i said."

"you really are a sappy fucker."

"you love it."

"i'd love it even more if i didn't have to be your chauffeur every day, at least they get paid to drive back and forth."

"you come with me to the picnic, i'll pay you with favours in bed. i'll even throw in a big tip."

"a big tip, huh..."

[trappolia]

NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR ── dan heng x gn!reader x blade, former dan feng x gen!reader x yingxing, 2.4k

you dream of blood.

the golden ichor that seeps through the jagged cracks of an old, divine blade. the deep red that drips from your wounds as a cruel reminder of your mortality, an ever existing shadow that haunts you through all the ships you travel through.

you dream of love.

a golden hairpin that catches your eye while walking through the bustling streets of a marketplace. the red paint that smudges on a lover’s lips when you exchange kisses. strokes of black ink upon parchment, reading words more poetic than one can ever have the courage to say aloud.

it is dizzying, in the way all dreams are. you are sitting under the moon and sharing a drink with someone you consider your friend, family, lover, and the next you are driving your spear through his chest. there are no blades of grass on this ship, no grassy fields for you to hide in, and the tendrils that you feel swaying, rustling, in waves past your ankles, are the chains of the sins you bear as someone they call their beloved.

the crew of the astral express are a welcome distraction, kind and warm as they offer you their companionship in their own personal ways. you help march 7th pin up photos in her room, laughing as you reminisce over your past travels through silly selfies and scenic photos. you sit with himeko during breakfast over a cup of coffee (yours brewed by yourself rather than the gorgeous redhead, thank the aeons) and indulge in the peaceful silence, a sense of normality that the woman is more than happy to give you after all that you’ve been through. mr yang tells you stories of other universes, weaving the already existing threads of all the lives you’ve seen around you into something completely different yet the same— and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if he lived a different life before all this.

but no matter what, you always find your way back to dan heng.

though you have your own assigned room, the simple arrangement of a flat pillows and a blanket on the floor of the archives is as much of a home to you as it is to dan heng. you’ve spent many a night in his room, poring over texts and books with him, more often than not passing out on his lap or in his sleeping area.

( “they come as a pair,” march 7th once told the trailblazer when they asked about the two of you. “himeko said that arrived on this ship together. whatever they went through in the past, they made it through because they had each other. but that’s just what i think.” )

it’s true, in a sense. what would you have done without dan heng, travelling through all those ships that always met the same end? you wonder if you would’ve lasted long enough for himeko to find you and bring you to the astral express.

probably not.

dan heng feels responsible for you. he doesn’t say it, but it’s obvious. you once confessed your insecurities to him on a dark night, back when the two of you were still getting used to having a proper roof above your heads without fear of the ship getting attacked or waking up to security banging through the door.

( “what if they think i’m useless because i’m always clinging onto you?” you had asked him in a small, weak voice.

“…they don’t seem like those sort of people.”

“but what if?”

dan heng had looked at you, his expression tired and soft all at once as he sighed.

“then they’ll have a problem with me too.”

“why?”

“because,” he brushed his fingers over your gaunt cheekbones, worn from all that you’d been through. “i’m just like you. if something took you from my side, then i might as very well be useless to them.” )

there’s a known truth between the two of you, one that you never speak of; but you both know that it’s a fact. if you hadn’t been involved with dan heng — with him — you’d still be at home in the xianzhou alliance. you’d be blissfully oblivious to the convict on the loose, the exile who has returned home. you’d be living your life— a normal life.

but you aren't.

instead, you dream of him.

it should be impossible. bracers are not meant to be shared between a trio, and whatever gift you had been planning to share between the three of you was lost upon the exile. and yet, even without the ancient magic of the vidyadhara, he somehow manages to make his way into your dreams, haunting you like a ghost.

some nights, you dream of those arms that had always held you with such certainty, an impenetrable shield even when bloodied and battered. other nights, you dream of those hands driving a blade through dan heng’s heart, squeezing your throat until you take your last breath through a broken windpipe.

and every night, when you wake up from those dreams in dan heng’s arms, you feel that pain welling in your chest, settling for days as it finds comfort in its new home, made up of your aching lungs and your shattered heart. the days and nights blur together like this— haunted by a man still living and breathing, though not quite human, in the nighttime, and traversing through the worlds like a ghost searching for meaning in the daytime.

you don’t remember how it ended up like this. or do you? it all feels like a dream, all the details and images blurring together to be forgotten by morning. but it isn’t morning, and you can’t wake up from this reality. your head throbs. a concussion? who cares.

you can’t afford to let your guard down on this ship you once called home. you’re here for a reason, and though that reason is your top priority, you can’t afford to be caught either. the cloud knight that found you and dan heng — sushang — doesn’t seem to recognise either of you, and neither does the strange tradesman luocha, but you still can’t take any chances. panic blossoms in your gut, unsettling as you grip your weapon in your weak hands.

ah. that’s right. you’re fighting. reason grounds you with the fuzzy memory of your enemy standing before you— an ambush, because whatever forces are at work here clearly play just as dirty as the antimatter legion and that damned aeon they serve.

a fight you can’t lose, no matter how badly your head is throbbing right now, because you still have to find the others, have to save them from— from—

“ren,” your grip on your weapon loosens as the dust clears, revealing the man standing before you.

the enemy, your brain screams, though it can’t even make you move away. the word that slips through your lips is familiar, and yet not. your head hurts thinking of calling him by his true name, the name you called him before he turned into this.

blade, is what kafka called him.

ren, is what it means in your mother tongue, the language spoken in moonlit nights as the three of you sat under the stars, the silence broken only by a whisper of their names.

the name comes out as a quiet, pathetic croak, staring wide eyed at his figure. he’s frozen just as you are, his broken blade aimed straight at you with an arm that wavers just the slightest.

it’s like a domino effect; your walls crashing down the moment you see his mask slip for the smallest moment.

“yingxing!” your voice breaks as you call out to him again, almost desperately (it does not occur to you that you've let your memory slip, called out for a man long dead). your feet are moving from under you before you even realise it.

blade lunges forward, his sword drawn.

a desperate cry of your name wretches itself out of dan heng’s throat in a way that makes your heart ache, but it’s too late now. his warning comes only seconds after you’ve begun to run straight to danger, death, a threat to your life seemingly unseen to you as you surge forward like a blind lover, but you can see him.

the sharp angles of his face, the familiar bracer on his calloused hand, the searing heat of his vermilion eyes. he’s so close— close enough to kiss, close enough to kill, close enough to be reality rather than an illusion forged by a dream.

his blade is not what meets you. instead, it’s his hand. dan heng’s panicked screams is barely audible over your hammering heartbeat, your pulse quickening as blade’s calloused fingers wrap around your throat. he’s stronger than you — you would know even if he hasn’t been haunting your dreams all those years — and so he can easily snap you in half the second you’re in his clutches.

but then you’re pressed against him, back to his front. blade pulls you as close to him as humanly possible until you’re both flush, sharing the same, saccharine oxygen after years of breathing stale air through stone lungs. despite the sharp end of a sword held over your throat, you allow yourself to close your eyes, reveling in this single moment as if you’ve lived an eternity where the three of you had never once hurt each other. though he had an eternity without a single regard to how you’d hurt each other. in these stolen moments, you let yourself be stupid, oblivious, selfish, just to breathe properly for the first time in what feels like a millennium.

“let them go,” dan heng hisses, breaking you out of your reverie.

“no,” blade’s eyes narrow. there is no mocking in his expression, no sardonic smirk or cruel taunts. his walls are still up, none of that broken emotion that you’d only seen for a split moment when your eyes first met, but he lets himself drop the bravado. between the three of you, there is no such thing.

you whisper a soft cry of his name, making dan heng’s grip tighten on cloudpiercer as he moves to snatch you out of blade’s grip, but your former lover only growls.

“come any closer, and i’ll cut them.”

his voice is scratchy, worn like the calloused hands that are wrapped around your nape, squeezing almost painfully. a distant memory flashes in your mind, of these same calloused palms washing your back after a long day, cleaning the blood and grime.

these same hands could be stained with your blood, if he so wishes.

“you won’t,” dan heng hisses, and you hear something in him break like glass shattering on the floor. “you can’t.”

he sounds so sure of it, that this man will not slice that blade over your throat and take your life just as he had taken dan heng’s in so many eternities.

you’re reminded of the fact that no matter how many times the hourglass has turned over for dan heng, no matter how muddled his memories become, he once loved this man just as you did— once relished in his presence and touch as it lulled him back to sanity, masking the weight of all the sins the three of you had committed over the lifetimes your strings of fate had been entangled.

blade moves as if to cut your throat, to finally take the first life, the first step in the nth round of this cycle of violence, but his sword only manages to press down just the slightest against the skin of your neck before he stops himself. his hand — the one adorned by that damned bracer — shakes as he glares at dan heng with a look that can kill.

“fuck,” blade mutters under his breath. the word is not meant for you, but you hear anyway. blade pulls back from you roughly, and a barely audible whimper tears out of your throat when he suddenly pushes you forward and into dan heng’s arms.

dan heng’s eyes widen, clearly just as surprised as you when blade relinquishes his hold on you. he catches you with unsteady arms, trying to keep cloudpiercer levelled at blade as if the man will suddenly lunge forward and take him from you again.

blade stares at the two of you for a moment, watching as dan heng clutches you to his chest like you’ll disappear if he let go, as you hold a palm to your neck where the thinnest line of red bleeds through. his eyes narrow, and the only other indication of emotion in his face is the slightest downturn of his lips.

“i’ll be back,” blade says, and then there’s that cruel smile on his face again, a taunting glint in his eye as he looks at dan heng. “i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?”

dan heng growls, his grip tightening on cloudpiercer, “you damned—!”

but then blade’s already making his exit, leaping off the platform in a manner that gives you deja vu.

( a memory flashes in your mind, the image of him jumping off your balcony as jing yuan knocked on your bedroom door to make sure you were still asleep while dan feng dove under your bed for cover, a mundane moment of peace and carefreeness almost forgotten from where you had pushed it deep into crevices of your mind. )

i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?

after a breathless moment that seems to drag out for an eternity, dan heng’s arms finally uncurl from your frame, his eyes tracing your figure to make sure you’re unharmed. his eyes drag over the thin cut across your neck in an adagio, his breath hitching as he sees you bleeding the same colour of blade’s eyes.

“he didn’t kill me,” you breathe out. you don’t know why it’s only settling now. the relief is clear in your tone, but it’s obvious from the violent tremor of your hands that it’s only to mask your own uncertainty. "he didn't kill me."

dan heng is quiet. you’re too scared to look at him, at the expression on his face. you just stare at your shaking hands, and watch as he rests his palm over your own to soothe the tremors.

“he always had a soft spot for you,” dan heng whispers, something breaking in the tenor of his voice.

© trappolia 2024

[evelynsgarden]

You should write some hcs or something about living alone with Abby, sorta cannon but not if you get what I mean? On a farm or in a home :3

Living With Abby Hcs

Cw: smut under the warning fluff otherwise 🩷 :p(ignore spelling errors if any (request open)

‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵ ‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ‿ ‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

🩷 Mornings with Abby are always special. She loves waking up early to make you breakfast, bringing you coffee in bed, and sharing quiet moments together before the day starts. She enjoys the simplicity of starting the day with you by her side. However, she always forgets to wash the dishes after breakfast and will in fact leave them in the sink all day💀 she’s super sorry about it but forgets every time 😭

🩷 Abby loves surprising you with impromptu date nights. Whether it’s a homemade candlelit dinner or a spontaneous drive to a scenic spot (with a super cute picnic ahhhhh) she’d definitely wanna keep you entertained and happy :( and can you imagine her coming back from patrol and instantly wanting to take you to some nice patch of grass she found not far out because she’s missed you and wants to have as many nice moments as possible

🩷 Abby coming back from a patrol with trinkets and gifts because she missed you and couldn’t stop thinking about you. She’d come back with jewelry, glasses, charms, stuffed animal, music, etc just to see you smile

🩷 Living together means celebrating holidays ^_^ Whether it’s decorating the house, cooking special meals, or exchanging heartfelt gifts, she’s so ready to go all out. Imagine decorating a ginger bread house with her and she makes a little you and her out of ginger bread😭 she’d be so excited to show you too(shit would be funny af if ur shorter than her lmfao- a lil ginger bread dude next to a really fucking tall one 💀)

🩷Abby fixing anything and everything that’s broken in the house or not up to par with what she thinks you deserve. The oven isn’t working properly? dw she’ll figure it out- oh the door handle broke again she’s right on it- she’d fuck it up and make it worse and then proceed to actually read a manual(she totally knows what she’s doing😐) THEN fix it but she loves you so it’s fine

Warning nsfw

‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵ ‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ‿ ‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

🧁 GAH sleepy morning sex with her would be sooo sweet❤️ she’d mumble out little “come on baby���s and hushes while she pushes her fingers into you slowly, listening to you beg for more half asleep. Her hands would be ALLLLL over your thighs afterwards squishing them softly, kissing up and down your neck before falling back asleep :(

🧁Abby has a bad (good-)habit of turning ordinary moments into something much more heated than they need to be😭. While you're cooking together, she can't resist coming up behind you, pressing her body against yours. Her hands slide under your shirt, caressing your stomach and breasts, her lips finding your ear as she whispers little moans into your ears. Before you know it, she has you bent over the kitchen counter, pounding into like shes scared she’ll never get to fuck you again. Girl is DESPERATE to make you happy(cum)

🧁After a particularly stressful patrol, when Abby needs to release all that pent-up tension she’ll take you against the nearest wall, counter, door, shit she’d settle for the floor- her hands gripping your hips tightly as she moves against you. Begging for you to scream her name louder because there’s not a single person for miles and even if there hypothetically were she’d want them to know how good and how deep she’s fucking you anyway.

🧁speaking of stressful patrols and my prior post(god her with a oral fixation) being in the bath with her to calm down after a long day and she sucks on your tits and plays with them with a thigh between your legs. When she gets bored of that she’ll drain the bath water and eat you out, sucking softly while forcing you open despite the overstim and multiple orgasms.

🧁cleaning you up after because you’re painfully exhausted (in a good way) she makes it her priority to have you comfy and close to her before you pass tf out because she still has you fucked up and unable to walk hours later 😭

‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵ ‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ‿ ‿︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ︵‿୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

OH THIS IS SO CUTE(the first part not the part where my ovulation is speaking for me-)

(I really appreciate requests- writing is helping with my anxiety rn- short and sweet as always ;D)

[wonryllis]

ENHYPEN AS SONG KANG.

────𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅.

𓋜 hyung line as hot characters ㅤ. .ㅤ𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑡ㅤㅤ𓍼ㅤㅤ𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 & fluff suggestive+ ࣪  ㅤ˖ ㅤ𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑ㅤㅤ৲ lowercase intended ㅤ. ⠀𓈃 ๋ ㅤ𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

( yeonie.notes ) these are the only song kang characters i know quite a bit about so i wasn't able to include the maknae line srry. 585wc. gn!centered.

꒰⠀hee⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀seung.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as hwang sun-oh from love alarm . . . falls first and falls harder. the good guy turned toxic because he loves you too much. borderline obsessed with you sometimes. quite literally needs to have you in his sight for him to be calm. loves ringing your love alarm everytime he comes close to you but absolutely hates it when other guys ring it too. waits for you during lunch break to walk to the cafeteria together. loves watching you do the simplest things. pulls you to the blind spots around the premises every other day to make out and do other unholy things. in his world there is only you he can't and will not see any one else, boys and girls alike. rich guy takes the bus with you and for you only. does everything to show people you're his. baby, ring my alarm please?

꒰⠀jong⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀seong.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as lee chae-rok from navillera . . . the mysterious and distant guy who was actually a sugar coated sweet pie in disguise. helps you with everything he can. tells you if there's ever a problem then you just need to give him a call and he'll be there. always looks in the eyes even when he turns red everytime, he just finds you so beautiful, his love. consoles you by making you forget everything around but him. pauses his ballet practice whenever you show up and disappears with you into one of the rooms to take a break. all disheveled, panting and sweating as you cling together. loves how you show up to his competitions to cheer him on. always tries to make you smile. it hurts his heart to see you hurt. you're my lucky charm.

꒰⠀jae⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀yun.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as park jae-eon from nevertheless . . . the major red flag turn green flag guy. loves sneaking up on you to steal kisses anywhere and everywhere. aware of how his body effects you and uses it to his full advantage, again touching you anywhere and everywhere in front of anyone and everyone. shows up unannounced to your unit just because he misses you or he's in the mood to ruin you. always i mean always kisses your lips to get or give a taste of any thing y'all have in your mouth. walks you to all your classes and pins you to wall at least once on the way. actually really cares about you but you're so hot he's too horny all the time to show it. overall my boy corrupted you to the core in every way possible. do you want to go see butterflies?

꒰⠀sung⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀hoon.⠀꒱⠀ ⠀🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as jung gu-won from my demon . . . the sexy incubus like demon who can't believe he fell so hard for a human. lives for the way you drool over his visuals. needs to hold you for every second of his life. boy doesn't give a fuck about anyone that's not you. uses his demon abilities to take you to scenic restricted areas like the top of a prohibited building to show you the stars or drive the car insanely fast to get somewhere he can touch you freely. there's this unspoken dynamic of a predator and his prey, especially when he's rearranging your guts. will get you anything you want through his powers. drives you everywhere you're his princess, you don't need to do anything. never fails to give you a goodbye kiss. you're my fate that i cannot defy.

TAGLIST ( open. )

[dekus-fellow-crybaby]

Nightmare Fuel

Summary: After venturing into the woods and stumbling across a statue, Gravity Falls’ newest resident meets her worse nightmare...or maybe her scariest wet dream.

Requested by @fivvy

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only. Minors DNI. DARK FIC! This fic contains darker themes such as manipulation, possession, violence, dub/con, and non/con! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! Aged-up Characters, Bill x reader, Bipper x reader, slight Dipper x reader? (There's some tension), porn with plot, slight MabelxPacifica, asshole!Dipper, mind sex, mind break?, sex pollen-like symptoms?, supernatural elements, horror-like elements, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, revenge sex, choking, asphyxiation, accidental voyeurism. Lmk if I forgot anything! LAST WARNING! DARK ELEMENTS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND NO MINORS!! AGES IN BIOS!! Seriously guys, it’s kinda messed up and I will block minors!

Word Count: 7.9 k

Gravity Falls. The town just west of weird. And your new home. When you were younger your family used to drive through the small, eccentric town on the way to visit family in Portland. Your parents just loved the scenic route, and the great nature of Gravity Falls was about as scenic as it got. You never stayed in the town long, but the curious corner of the world always drew you in. The people you would meet during your occasional diner stops or the stories you would hear piqued your interest. It drove you towards a love of writing and reading, just searching for vibrant characters that might match the town's local color. Which is why you decide to take a year off college and live amongst the people that initially stirred your curiosity.

Stepping off the bus, the sunlight speckles through the trees, the warmth dusting your cheeks, and you are welcomed back to the town of Gravity Falls. The scent of pine trees and maple surround you as you walk towards the town square, a suitcase rolling behind you. Checking the address on the post-it note in your hands, you make your way to the house on the edge of the woods: the Mystery Shack. It was probably more of a gamble than you should have taken to respond to the rooming ad for a place called the Mystery Shack, but it was the only available housing in the small town, so you'd just have to take your chances.

Skipping the town tour, you make your way to the tourist trap, but you take note of the town as you go. Everything seems perfectly normal. but you hoped that wouldn't remain the case. You needed something interesting to write about, something to spark a flame of inspiration in your head. So far, nothing but your new place of residence seems out of the ordinary. You make it to the Mystery Shack, surprised by the number of cars parked out front. A number of people come in and out of the house, most being led around by a dude in a suit, eyepatch, and fez. Walking closer to what you can only assume to be a tour group, you listen in on the man rifting off facts about the obviously fake attractions.

"And here we have the rock that looks like a face, dudes," the tour guide said.

"But is it a rock or is it a face?"

"No, dude, it's a rock that looks like a face," the tour guide sighs as if he got this question often. "It's-it's not an actual face." This only sparks more controversy for the guide, so you peacefully excuse yourself from the group, bypass the entrance for the indoor Mystery Museum, and trudge around to the backdoor. You're pleased to find no tourists there. From the window, you notice a few people filing around the room and you hope they were the actual residents of the house/tourist attraction. Knocking on the door, you are almost immediately met by a bubbly brunette answering with a brooding blond watching intently behind her.

"Uh, hi, I'm—"

"Are you our new roomie?!" She beams, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she ushers you in before you even give your answer. Once you’re in the room, you take in each of the girls' features. The brunette smiles at you excitedly, a pair of perfectly straight teeth flashing between glossy pink lips. Her curly hair tumbles down her back, the front of her bangs are held back by a dark pink headband which matches a pair of leggings she wore beneath a white tee with a multicolored shooting star on the front. The blond behind her has straight hair, straight-cut bangs brushing over her long, mascara-covered lashes, a light purple dusting of eyeshadow matching a purple jersey shirt with a white diamond on the front over a pair of black leggings along with a pair of big, white hooped earrings.

"Yeah, yes, hi," you breathed out, apprehension and shock in your tone as you’re pulled in. "Are you Mabel?"

"Actually...I'm your new roommate!" She squeals before deadpanning with a, “But yeah, my name is Mabel.” You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"Well, it's really nice to meet you, Mabel," you say genuinely, a sigh of relief passing your lips along with a giggle.

"This is Pacifica, my gf and our other roommate," Mabel introduces. The blond nods her head, not saying a word as Mabel does all the talking. "And my brother also lives here but he's kinda...busy right now. He's sorry he couldn't be here for the greeting party though!" You brush that off. "How about we give you the tour and then we can get to know each other."

She grabs one of your two bags as she leads you to your room: a dark space with a slanted ceiling, a stained-glass window in the far-left corner which offers a muted colored light, a furnace in the far right, a bed at the center of the left wall, and a closet to the left of the bed. It’s perfect for a shut-in writer such as yourself. Mabel tells you that the room used to belong to her Grunkle Stan who was travelling the seas with his brother, her Great Uncle Ford.

Dropping the bags onto the bed, the three of you made the rounds of the house. Mabel and Pacifica share the attic, Mabel saying she has sentimental attachment to the space. While walking through their home, Pacifica tells you how she had grown up as a rich only child. Her parents had fallen on a bit of "hard times" after her dad made a bad investment in some bonds and they had to sell their mansion to the town kook, Old Man McGucket, and, yes, that is how he prefers to be called. After living with her parents until she was legally able to leave, her now living with Mabel and her brother in the Mystery Shack was not only convenient but is also like a middle finger to her oppressive parents. You learn all of this before you even make it to the living room. You really like how talkative Mabel is. Her extrovert personality counteracts your quiet tendencies.

Coming to Mabel's twin brother's room—who you found out is named Mason but is nicknamed Dipper—it’s a mess. Dirty laundry, papers, and books all scattered over every surface. You barely notice the shape of the bed or couch underneath the piles of clothing and maps. The only thing that seems to be somewhat in order was the bookshelf. It’s stacked to the brim with books except for the top shelf, where only three books rest, all with their covers facing out. Each one is a deep blue, a drawing of a silver Pinetree overlayed with a golden Big Dipper constellation and underneath is printed golden numbers 1, 2, 3. They look like journals, though you had no idea what information could be handwritten there. You gather that he’s either a brainiac or a maniac, and neither tend to have very clean tendencies. But you aren’t one to judge, knowing you could get the same way in the midst of an inspired breakthrough. Your muse could work in mysterious and very annoying ways: ergo the entire reason for moving to Gravity Falls.

"Yeah, my brother tends to be a bit...hazardous when he gets in the work zone," Mabel explains sheepishly. "If it's not his room, it’s the basement that's a mess. Or both. Mostly both."

You’ve stayed relatively quiet the entirety of the tour but your curiosity itches at you brain, prompting an inquisitive, "What does your brother do?"

"Science research...of sorts," she answers through thin lips.

"Of sort?" Your brows scrunch together at the vague implication.

"Yeah, I'm not entirely sure the specifics of his work, just that he has a few Ph.D.'s," she shrugs, a nervous laugh bubbling in her throat, as if it wasn't a great feat to have multiple Ph.D.'s before the ripe age of twenty-four.

"Wow, that's...really impressive," you breath, not knowing exactly how to respond to her nonchalance over the subject.

"Yeah, proud of my bro-bro, just wish he would wash his clothes," she chuckles, faking(?) a grimace and pulling a laugh out of you and Pacifica.

The rest of the tour went on like this, sharing stories and taking cracks at one another, giving you an idea of the nature of the relationship between your new housemates. Mabel went on and on about how much the house means to them, and how much their great uncles mean to them as well. It’s really sweet, and you believe that you’ve found yourself some interesting characters to write about.

Mabel is really nice and, while Pacifica had a very hard exterior, you can see her softer side in the moments when she lets herself slip out of that tough exterior to laugh for Mabel. They both help you unpack quickly, even brightening up the space with a lamp Mabel had decorated herself—crystals hot glued to the base, refracting a cascade of rainbows around the room. You feel so welcomed already.

An ear-shattering bang shakes the house, dust drizzling from the ceiling and effectively startling you awake.

"Fuck!" A voice screams. You follow it with a heart-pounding urgency, leading you to the gift shop where smoke billows into the room. The vending machine swings open, and you startle, a small squeak leaping out of your throat. A figure emerge from the smoke, coughing and waving his arms with a cap in one hand to clear out the black cloud surrounding him. When the smog clears enough for you to get a good look at the man, the first thing you saw was the mop of curly brown hair, much like Mabel's, that is powdered with soot and debris. His pale skin is marred by the caking of dirt over his exposed arms and cheeks, yet the dark circles underneath his eyes were still prominent despite only being illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through glass windows. The dark grayish-green tee with a black question mark on the front was also frosted in a layer of powder. The red flannel tied around his waist seems relatively unscathed until he uses the material to wipe what is still on his face. His arms lifted to rub off the grime, showcasing the ink markings on his forearms. You can’t help but stare at him and the opened vending machine entrance, mouth hanging open at the scene. You wonder if you’re dreaming.

"Trying to catch flies, sunshine?" His deep voice rattles. You know he’s speaking to you despite him refusing to look your way.

"Excuse me?"

"No?" He smugly questions, the sarcasm dripping from his voice that is riddled with sleep deprivation and husky from his dust-coated throat. He finally looks over at you, allowing you to meet his chocolate brown eyes. "Then you should close your mouth." You wrinkle your nose at the snark of his tone. Before you can reply, the girls come down from the attic.

"Nice going, Dipstick, what did you blow up this time?" The blonde grumbles. You make a mental note to never wake the girl from her beauty sleep lest you receive the same venomous tone.

"None of your business, Pacifica," he sighs.

"I don't know why you're in such a piss mood when you were the one to wake everyone up at three in the morning, moron," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes so far back into her head that you’re sure she caught a glimpse of her brain.

"I know that you, more than anyone, need your precious beauty sleep, Pacifica, but my lab is not any of your concern," Dipper snaps back.

"Shut up, Dipshit."

"Buy my silence then, rich bitch."

The tangible tension in the room surrounds the house residents as Pacifica's eye twitch and her nostrils flare. Pacifica, not wanting to put up with his attitude any longer at three in the morning, mumbles a quiet, "Whatever," and turns on her heel, heading back upstairs. You can’t help but admire the great restraint on her part.

"Mason, go to sleep," Mabel utters firmly, tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she speaks. "You're a dick when you haven't slept in a few days." He knows better than to talk back to Mabel when she calls him out like that, especially so when there is a significant lack of a nickname.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he groans, his hand dragging down his face, smearing black back onto the skin he'd just half-heartedly cleaned off.

"And you will apologize tomorrow." It’s not a question from Mabel, the no-nonsense tone leaving little room for debate.

"Yeah, I will," he mutters, followed by a nearly silent, "When Waddles learns to fly."

"Well, he already did," she argues, leaving you absolutely confused. "I'll see if I can't get her to apologize for the ‘dipshit’ comment but yours was worse so you have to make the first move."

"I know the drill, Mabel." She nods at his compliance, turning to you.

"I'm sorry that this is your first impression of my brother," she says sheepishly, though her tone scolds him still.

"This is the Ph.D. guy?" You choke out the inquiry softly towards Mabel, shock clear in your tone. She shrugs, nods, then goes off to find Pacifica.

"You must be the new roommate," he smiles then, though it’s more condescending than friendly. Despite that, he still holds out his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you. Stay out of my lab."

"Noted," you scoffs, taking his hand as if in a daze.

"Nice pjs," he smirks, instantly turning your cheeks red as you remember what you wore to bed. Nothing more than a thin T-shirt that barely covers your backside. You snatch your hand back from his hold. "Oh, and welcome to Gravity Falls."

Looking around, you take in the black-and-white space surrounding you. The trees still, despite the breeze grazing your skin; the birds hover in the air, wings wide spread; the wildlife turn their heads towards you yet don't move an inch otherwise. It’s like walking into a vintage photograph. Your mind wanders as your feet carry you deeper into the forest, following the gentle stream. The only color illuminating the monochrome forest is yourself and the image of a floating yellow-

"Mabel! I've said it once, I've said it a million times! I don't want any Mabel juice!" The sound of Pacifica's shrieking voice stirs you out of sleep, pulling you from the odd dream.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you walk into the den full of commotion. "What the hell is Mabel juice?" You ask sleepily, mid-yawn. You’re met with coos about how adorable the action was from Mabel, to which you blush and sheepishly wave off, already getting the sense that Mabel found cuteness in almost anything.

"Mabel juice!" Mabel announces proudly and far too loudly for so early in the morning. "A beverage of my own invention!" She shows off, presenting the drink in question that looked like a hot pink choking hazard. "Want some?"

"Hmm," you hum in thought at her hopeful intent. "Thank you, Mabel, but I think I'll stick with coffee. I do appreciate the offer though." She just shrugs, still beaming, and pours herself a glass. The sweet smell of pancakes wafts around the room as you sit at the kitchen table. "Something smells good."

"It's my ultra-chocolate-chip pancakes with sprinkles!" Mabel announces, sliding a plate over to Pacifica with a nicely decorated array of rainbow colors over a cloud of whipped cream in the shape of the Smiledip puppy.

"Wow, is this what breakfast is always like here?" You wonder aloud, Pacifica shrugs, hesitates in thought, and then nods.

"How many pancakes, Sunshine?" Mabel hums, the nickname falling easily from her lips. She obviously makes attachments very quickly.

"One, please," you say politely. Mabel is quick to oblige, whipping up similar masterpieces that look like a kitten judge, complete with chocolate syrup whiskers, a powdered sugar powdered wig, and a bacon gavel. "Mabel, this is really incredible." You can’t even remember the last time you had a hot breakfast. Or any breakfast for that matter. You didn't exactly practice a habit of self-care while taking your college courses...or any basic needs really like a regular eating schedule or exercise.

"Why thank you, Cutie-Patootie." You would respond if your mouth wasn't currently stuffed with the bacon gavel. "Sleep well?"

"For the most part." You nod slowly before your mind drifts back to the three a.m. incident. "Can I ask you something though?"

"Shoot."

"Is your brother always like that?" Pacifica snorts derivatively beside you, as if laughing at her own inside joke echoing in her head.

"Well, if you mean pushing the reasonable boundaries of his own health to finish his current hyper fixation…then yes," Mabel sighs, offering a sad smile. "But the bitchiness, no. He’s usually sweet, just sassy. But he tends to slip into bitchy mode when he hasn't gotten enough sleep…which now that I think about it is whenever he’s on the edge of a breakthrough…So to answer your question: yes."

"Hmm, that seems so stupid, though," you hum around a mouthful of the sugar drowned pancake bite.

"Pardon?" The voice comes from behind you, startling you with a bite of pastry cat judge halfway in your mouth. You would have choked if you'd taken a bigger bite. Turning your head, syrup almost dripping off your pouting bottom lip, you see Dipper. He obviously showered which was quite the improvement from last night. Now that his face is clean you can take notice of his features. You remember the big brown eyes but now, without the smudges of grease and grime on his forehead, you notice the pair of bushy eyebrows and fluffy curls that rest above those chocolate orbs. It looks like he hasn't shaved in a while, a shadow of scruff shading his chin. Instead of the question mark tee from last night, he’s wearing a dark blue sweater with the words "Disco Girl" in bubbled sky-blue font that reminds you of a 70s aesthetic mood board which he accompanies with a pair of grey sweats. You think it an odd outfit choice for the moody man in front of you, the juxtaposition boggling your mind. He cocks his head and raises a bushy brow in question when you take your time to answer.

"I mean, it just doesn't seem very productive," you shrug when you finally shallow the breakfast bite that was stuffing your mouth, the hypocrisy dripping off your words as much as the syrup. "When you don't get enough sleep your neuroreceptors lose their sensitivity to serotonin and norepinephrine which leads to impaired cognitive function. I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something." You mumble the last part while sipping on your cup of coffee. Pacifica snorts out of laugh, Mabel has to slap her hand over her mouth to cover the traitorous smile, and Dipper stares at you with his nose wrinkled and his brows drawn together, taking in your words and frowning at the implication.

"I'm going back to bed," he announces, immediately turning on his heel. “Save me a pancake gnome, Mabel!”

"Are you a science buff too, Sunshine?" Mabel asks once Dipper has turned the corner. Peering past the wall, you check to make sure he was really gone.

"Nope," you popped the 'p'. "I got that off a tv show. I just wanted to stump him." All three of you erupt in laughter.

"Okay, I’ve decided to like you," Pacifica giggles, leaning back in her chair and giving you an approving once over. "On a trail basis, of course. We’ll see how it goes."

"Honored," you chuckle.

"So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?" Mabel asks. She turns the stove off, carrying over a plate with a llama pancake for Pacifica and her own her has a pancake shaped like a dolphin…with muscular arms instead of fins?

"Well, I wanted to check out the town a bit," you answer with a mouthful of the syrupy breakfast. "Maybe walk around the forest a bit…Any good landmarks to check out?”

"Want a tour guide?"

"Yeah, that’d be great, Mabel," you answer gratefully.

The three of you make a day of exploring the town. Mabel and Pacifica show off every aspect and share all the quirky attributes of the small town. Considering the size of the town, the tour doesn't take long. The last stop is Greasy's Diner where Pacifica works. The three of you eat lunch before Pacifica clocks into work. Mabel offers to walk with you back to the Mystery Shack before she goes back out to the craft shop for more knitting supplies. You politely decline, saying that you can find your way back on your own. You part ways and you take your own time strolling back to the house, taking the long way through the mysterious woods you've been itching to explore.

After living with the trio for a few weeks, you caught on to a few things. Mabel is a being of pure chaos, but she makes it work. She channels most of her energy into her creativity, her job consisting of running an Etsy shop selling knitted sweaters. Pacifica is actually a very chill person. She was rather reserved, and you'd catch her people watching often, especially when Mabel's friends Candy and Grenda would come over. She would often observe them with a small smile playing on her glossy lips. She seemed like the perfect balance for Mabel's wildness. And Dipper hates your guts. You're not sure why, but you frequently found him glaring at you. You're not sure what you did, but the guy always has an evil eye for you. Especially when you get back from your daily walks through the woods.

That's another thing about your time in Gravity Falls that seems odd to you. You're not sure why, but you're drawn to the wilderness. It's as if something in the forest was calling out to you.

Your mind wanders as your feet carry you deeper into the forest. Your surroundings blur and blend into the verdant brush or golden glow of the setting sun. You don't even realize how long you've been traveling until your limbs begin to ache and nothing around you is familiar anymore. You hear and see nothing resembling that of a human touch, only the steady thrum of the natural world you've stepped into. The final rays of the evening sun light your path as you venture further, a meager attempt to find your way back to civilization. However, you curiously find yourself stumbling upon a mossy mass of stone, and time seems to slow down the moment you do. The trees still, despite the breeze grazing your skin; the birds hover in the air, wings widespread; the wildlife turn their heads towards you yet don't move an inch otherwise. Coming closer, you see a scrawny statue arm reach out to you welcomingly. Your eyes travel over the attached body, the monument shaped like a personified pyramid. You tiptoe around the monolith, studying the odd artwork. A breeze sweeps over you, a shiver working its way down your spine. There's a sudden subtle tickle at the back of your brain and a slight paranoia settles across your skin. Your eyes find the granite gaze of the one-eyed creature, and goose bumps bloom over your flesh. You don't understand it, but you feel a simultaneous urge to flee as well as an overwhelming draw towards the inanimate figure. The contradiction creates a harsh turmoil within you, and you feel frozen, granting your surroundings the perfect opportunity to whisper advice into the wind. You can almost hear an audible "Run!" from the wood, but you can't bring yourself to follow the orders. Instead, your hand hesitantly reaches out to the outstretched hand, your fingers gingerly grasping the stone and wrapping your digits around the stony hand. However, just as your palm settles against the carved rock, fingers grip your wrist and yank you away, pulling you back into a hard chest. And suddenly, time is back on track. You're ripped from your daze as you're spun around to meet a pair of frantic chestnut eyes.

"What did you do?" he screams, shaking you by the shoulders. His face goes pale, deathly so, and the new ghostly shade causes the dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks to drain along with his rosy completion. You unconsciously frown at that realization.

"What?" you mutter in a trance, your mind rousing slowly from the mental fog.

"What did you do?" he repeats in a panic, the desperation in his voice snapping you out of your stupor.

"Nothing!" you squeak out in defense.

"You don't touch this!" he wails in your face. "Don't ever touch this!"

"I won't!" you cry out, hands pushing at his shoulders and clawing at his fingers gripping painfully at your arms. His eyes are searching, scanning your face and person manically. Looking for what, you don't know. But he stares into your eyes as if expecting something new. Well, new to you, at least. You get the feeling that whatever he thinks he'll find swimming in your irises is something that he is plenty familiar with. When he seems satisfied enough, he pushes you away softly. Instead, he turns to gaze at the granite figure once more. A shaky hand cards through his curly bangs, showing off the constellation of freckles that were previously hidden. The movement nearly nudges his hat off his head, letting it rest haphazardly on his head. After a moment, it seems as though he settles the argument that has been playing out in his head. He grabs your bicep and starts dragging you back to the house, ignoring your protests.

When you make it back to the Mystery Shack, Dipper drags you through the attraction side of the house, stopping in front of a vending machine. He punches in a code before pushing you through the entrance that reveals itself. You're welcomed into a dark, dusty hallway lit only by a gas lantern. You then ride down in a creaking elevator, watching the numbers change through broken display glass. Once the metal elevator gate opens up again, another room is unveiled, and you soon realize that it's the basement laboratory, the one that he specifically, in no uncertain terms, told you to stay out of. You believe it was the first sentence he said to you, actually.

This room is by far more well-kept than his bedroom, but it also seems more lived in. There are contraptions, books, papers, and writing utensils scattered over every surface, but it at least seems like there is controlled chaos.

He maneuvers you to sit on an uncomfortable wooden stool in front of a wall of monitors and computer keyboards. You don't know why you've let him direct you so easily thus far, but you might be more afraid of what would happen if you resisted. He seemed so shaken, unstable even after you touched the statue.

You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel cold metal atop your scalp. You whip around to see Dipper attempting to fit a rusty colander with tubes sticking out of it over your head. You jump up finally, drawing a line in the sand.

"What the hell is going on?" You screech, a heaviness weighing on you as the fog is finally gone and you begin to understand the possible gravity of the situation.

"Relax," he sighs. "It's a cranium scanner. It's harmless. It's just meant to scan your thoughts."

You scoff. "Why do you need to do that? Why should I believe that's what you say it is? Why were you so freaked out about that statue? Why were you even there? Were you following me? You need to work on your communication because you just drag me down here and try to hook up some terrifying machine to me without my permission and without explaining and this is freaking me the fuck out!"

His jaw ticks with every word that quickly leaves your lips. Silently, he lifts the device to his head and fits it on his scalp. The moment he does the monitor comes to life. Green words dance across the screen and mumbles buzz from the speakers. You see and hear phrases like "Fuck, this girl is annoying...I need to run these tests...We have to hurry...gotta make sure he's not back...keep everyone safe, have to keep everyone safe...Man, I'm starving...When was the last time I did laundry?...Nah, that's a waste of time...Disco girllll, coming throughhhh, that girl is youuu...Shit, now that I look at her she's kinda cut—" He rips the machine off his head and clears his throat before shrugging his shoulders and waving his hands as if to say "I told you so" in a single motion. "See? Harmless. Now put this on."

You shake your head. "I still need an explanation."

He sighs out in frustration, taking the stool for himself as he runs a trembling hand over his exhausted features. "Look, this town...it's not normal, okay? There are things here...things that can't be explained...including that statue." You stare at him tentatively, noticing the way his fingers fidget together and his brow shines with sweat. "Just...do this and we will never speak of this again." You watch him for a moment, trying to gauge whether the knot in your stomach is intuition or just nerves over his odd behavior. You don't think you can trust him...but you feel like he needs this...whatever it is. And you hope that it'll calm his erratic behavior. Plus, you're a little amazed by the mindreading device, and you kind of want to know if it's accurate or not. You cautiously step forward, nodding minutely. He rises from the seat and allows you to take it. You do, wiggling around a bit to get comfortable on the incredibly irritating wood panels.

"Can I at least get a better chair?" you grumble.

He actually chuckles, a breath of relief leaving his lips as he nods. He drags an old, velvet-upholstered chair that sits next to a chess table. He smacks the cushion and allows a layer of dust previously caked on the fabric to fly into the air. You can live with it more than the splintering stool. You settle into the seat and allow Dipper to place the appliance on your head.

First comes the shock as all your thoughts are displayed on the monitor at a mile a minute, including the thoughts of your shock. Next comes the processing as you watch Dipper take a seat and start scribbling notes as he observes the monitors. You watch as every one of your thoughts is displayed and you begin to feel exposed as every one of your anxieties are advertised. Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes flutter close, trying your best to relax.

The next moment you open your eyes again something feels off. You scrunch your brow as you look around the room, trying to figure out what's different. Looking over to Dipper, you notice that he's stopped writing. Instead, he sits staring up at the screen. You miss how the screen no longer projects your every thought and only produces static. Your skin bubbles with pins and needles, a sudden chill filling your bones as Dipper remains unmoving with his chin resting on his intertwined fingers. You can't see his face and that alone unnerves you as the silence persists.

You hesitate to speak. "Dipper?"

His hands separate, palms placed flat on the keyboard top. Other than his arms moving, nothing else does. The anxiety is slowly pressing into your chest as you patiently wait for his next action or word. You're beginning to think you should run.

"Y'know," he starts. His voice sounds different, higher pitched, and echoing slightly. "The human mind is such a delicate thing...so fragile and easy to manipulate." He stands then but still doesn't face you. When he turns towards you slowly, his features backlit by the sinister green glow of the monitor, his movements are casual, and he leans back against the desktop with his arms crossed. You can see his eyes. They're different from the chocolate chip orbs that you saw before. Now his pupils consume the entirety of his irises, and it seems as if they're slanted like cat eyes. They almost glow yellow. They nearly remind you of...

He laughs suddenly, wobbily stalking towards you as he shakes his head mockingly. His voice morphs as he continues to make the maniacal sound. It becomes high and pitchy, echoing a shrill, unsettling quality in the sinister cackle that makes your stomach drop. "I mean, look at you! Look at how easy it was to lead you to this moment. You didn't even fight it!" Your hair stands on end at his words and your limbs tremble as you're reminded that you were worried that this would happen. Is it possible to tell yourself 'told you so'? "You just followed me through the woods. I didn't even have to trick you into taking my hand, you curious little thing!" You flinch as Dipper cages you between him and the seat, his face inches from yours as his eyes study you.

"What are you talking about?" You squeak out, your voice finally working once again. Now that he's so close, you know exactly where you've seen such odd eyes before. The statue in the woods.

"Ahh, there it is," he giggles. A hand comes up and grips your chin between his thumb and index. He shakes your head from side to side while pouting at you derisively. "Figure it out?"

"What—how?"

"Hmm, maybe not," he chuckles. He taps a finger into your temple slowly, but the gentle touch feels far more frightening to you, as if it's the calm right before the raging storm. "And here I thought you were a smart girl." His voice has morphed once again, two voices bleeding into one. You hear Dipper's voice being overtaken by that discordant tone that he laughed at you with. His eyes drag down your body then, a darkness seeming to seep into those unsettling ellipse pupils. "It's always odd to look through two eyes. Everything seems so much more...third dimensional. Much more graphic. For instance," his hand cups your throat, the touch so gentle and soft, but there was an obvious threat there, "if I squeeze, I'd be able to see your skin turn red and maybe even blue if I cut off your air for long enough." He absently chuckles, as if lost in the image of what he's imagining. He leans in closer, running his nose along your jaw. "I'd be able to see your veins popping out. Maybe I'd feel your windpipe crushing too." His eyes drift up to yours, as if only now remembering that you're there. He offers a smile that could possibly resemble something sweet, but it only turned your stomach. "Don't worry, Sunshine," he whispers, gently pecking your cheek, "that's not what I want."

"What do you want then?" you ask, your voice surprisingly harsh despite how your insides knot up and your throat feels as if it's closing up.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls his gaze away from your temptingly delicate throat.

"Just saying hi to an old friend," he answers, releasing his hold on your neck and placing his hands on either side of your head. As he leans into you it's as if you're witnessing a real-life glitch as the man in front of you shifts from Dipper to a lanky, tan blonde. Wild locks peek out from a tiny top hat atop his head and sweep over his bangs that cover one of his eyes. He'd look like a normal person if he weren't wearing such a predatory grin that reminds you more of a monster instead of a man, the ethereal yellow glow that radiates off his skin, or the cracks at the edges of his face with a galaxy peeking through the unnatural jagged breaks of flesh. But just as quickly as the image of the new man appeared, it was replaced by Dipper once again. He wiggles his fingers in a small wave. "Isn't that right, Pine Tree?" He stares into your eyes but it's as if he's looking through you, instead. He's not talking to you.

Suddenly, his fingers clamp over the nape of your neck, the painful pressure causing your muscles to tense and you're at his mercy. He uses this to throw you towards the dusty couch along the wall. Now that you're out of his immediate vicinity you try to get up and run but he moves like lightning and he's over you in an instant.

"Sorry, Sunshine," he says as he swings a leg over yours, locking your body in place as it's trapped between his thighs. The image of his body continuously glitches from Dipper to the person you saw before. Your arms thrash as you squirm and kick and try to get away, but he pays no mind to your struggle, capturing your wrists easily in his grasp. His fingers dig into your skin as he grips your jaw painfully. "It's nothing personal. Well, not towards you, at least." He laughs as if he said something so funny, an inside joke only for him. "Actually, I should be thanking you. You freed me, your pretty little mind is going to be my new home. And in light of that, I think you deserve a little treat, huh?" Despite your struggle, the man easily held you down with a hand wrapped around your wrists. His other hand smooths down your sides, goosebumps raising in the wake of his touch. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he presses an open-mouthed kiss against your lips, his tongue slipping in and scavenging your mouth. And the taste of his tongue rubbing against yours is…intoxicating.

It’s like the sweetest of ambrosia seeping into your tastebuds. You feel like you should be fighting more, struggling harder against the man's advances. You feel the way your veins fill with ice at the realization of what he is planning to do. But your mind feels foggy, your movements sluggish and out of your control; the same way you felt while walking in the woods. Your mind is only consumed by the taste of his lips and how it fills your every being. You need more. Your skin feels hot, burning but in the best ways possible. The feeling slowly begins to thaw the ice in your bloodstream as his touch lights your nerves. You vaguely hear the light chuckle in his voice as your lids flutter halfway and you focus on the featherlike trail his fingertips left over your skin.

You open your mouth, but no words leave your lips, and that shrill laugh rings out again.

"See?" he coos, a mixture of Dipper and the other high-pitched voice resonating through the small room. "So easy." His hand releases your wrists, but your limbs stay in place, unmoving even with their newfound freedom. His thumbs knead into your sides as they slip underneath your shirt, slowly rolling the fabric up your body. "Bet Pinetree is squirming in his seat right now. Better give him a show, huh, Sunshine?" Despite every alarm bell in the back of your mind going off, you find yourself agreeing with the strange entity, knowing nothing but the need for more, more, more. His lips curl up into a sinister smirk as he watches the confusion etch into your brows but you do nothing to stop him.

His shirt is ripped over his head in an instant, displaying Dipper’s pale skin and the curly brown hair of his happy trail before his image shift into a mirage of the other man. Golden brick-like tattoo lines and crack of glowing galaxies along his body mar the perfectly tan skin of the unfamiliar man. And the glitches stop, you notice. He is no longer Dipper. He is only the fabricated personified image of the statue in the woods.

Dark fingers the look like they were dipped in ink and absorbed up to his elbows drag over your frame, cutting away each scrap of clothing covering your body. They fall away so smoothly, as if they were merely delicates drapes just waiting for a breeze to brush them away in a gentle sigh. You want to move your hands and cover yourself but you can’t bring your limbs to listen. They belong to him now. All of you belongs to him now. And the smirk on his face tells you he knows that.

"Wish I had a real body to truly enjoy this, y'know?" He murmurs, gaze hungrily roving over you. He unhurriedly brings himself to lay on the couch chest down between your legs, the dark tendrils of his hands curling below your hips as his head nuzzles into the side of one of your plush thighs. His hair is soft, you notice. Softer than any earthly object. And you are choosing to focus all of your attention on that fact rather than the hungrily look he gives you. "But taste is more of a mental construct, isn’t it? I don’t need a real tongue to thoroughly enjoy a meal." It’s the only warning you receive before a devilish tongue is ravishing your inner walls. Despite his initial nonchalance, he moves quickly to pick you apart with only one muscle. Your eyes flutter shut at the pleasure but just as q uickly, a fist closes around your throat and your eyelids fly open once again. "Eyes on me." And you listen, keeping your eyes on the golden iris trained in you as your jaw drops open in a silent scream while he brings you to completion under his skilled tongue. You don’t make a sound until his hand claps down in your thigh, signaling the need for an audible response to your climax. You oblige, letting a high-pitched moan escape your lips. He looks satisfied enough as he comes off of you with a wolffish grin.

You keep your eyes trained on him as he leans over you once again, as if you are incapable of closing them again. You’re not entirely sure if that inability is because of your own will or because of his command. Either way, you watch as the man hovers over you, causing you to jerk when his cock surprisingly taps your sensitive entrance. You look down then, watching the angry red, mushroom head sliding between your folds. Your body seems conflicted, trying both to get away from the friction and seeking to catch the bulbous tip on your weeping opening. You realize that he’s teasing you, however. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that he won’t do anything until you beg for it. He wants you to beg for it.

You listen to his sinister chuckle, the maddening sound bouncing inside your head…or are you both already inside your head…?

"Oh, you figured it out, Sunshine!" He chuckles in that echoing voice of his. "Now you know what I want, so do it." Your mouth opens without your permission but no words escape. "Oh, c’mon, Sunshine. I know you want it too…just give in."

"Please," the word is barely audible as it escapes your lips, but he hears it, perking up at the sound.

"Please what?"

"Please…please fuck me!" You can’t keep the whine out of your voice as you finally plead for what this has all been building up to. You don’t know this man—Creature? Ethereal being?—or what kind of spell he put on you. All you know is that you need it. Everything will be better once you feel his cock pummeling in and out of you. And that’s exactly what he does, plunging into you the second the last syllable leaves your lips.

The stretch is painful and you aren’t sure if the scream you release is because of the pain of his dick tearing through you or the pleasurable drag you feel on your inner walls. It’s like you want to scream, cry, push him out, but you can’t. You can only take it, take it, take it, just as he orders you to while he snaps his hips into you. You realize that you are crying, but again, you have no idea if the tears are from the wonderful stimulation or the searing shame of this moment. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if Dipper knows. You ask yourself what he thinks of you in this moment and if you even care when you’re being speared on a fat cock.

Again that demented laughter rings in your ears, reminding you of the demon you’ve officially sold your soul to that’s treating your body like his personal property. Maybe that’s his now too, along with your sanity. You can’t seem to say much besides moans and whines and pleas for something you’re not sure you want.

"Oh, I really wish you could see her face right now, Pinetree," he giggles, as if talking to himself. "You’d fucking love it. I know I do." He chuckles then, like he made an inside joke before his hand curls around your throat and makes sure your eyes are on him solely. And he speaks but not to you, to something he’s looking at through you. "But I really wish I could see your face right now. You getting off on this, Little Dipper? I bet you are. Freaks like you and me, we gotta enjoy these little moments when we get them." His grip tightens on your throat then and the panic sets in again. Whatever it was that lulled you into a false state of complacency is gone. You feel the oxygen struggling to fill your lungs as his hips snap faster in and out of you, his lanky fingers bullying your button as you’re starting to swim in asphyxiation.

There’s a twinkle in his eye that was never there before as he watches you struggle. You realize that his sadistic demon is getting off more on torturing you than he has this entire time. The smile that spreads across his face is one you know will haunt your very being. And you hate yourself as his digits circling your clit brings you to release just as your vision blackens at the edges. You barely register the warmth flooding your insides as you’re finally allowed to close your eyes.

You wake again with a start, your body shooting up in the chair again, the odd helmet once again gracing your crown. Your eyes land on Dipper whose back is turned to you and you wander if the nightmare is only restarting again. But when he turns around, you see the dark dusting of color on his cheeks and know that this isn’t the demon you just dealt with. But if the boner in his jeans is anything to go by, you do know that he watched the whole thing.

Dipper clears his throat, awkwardly shifting as he faces you, his hands fruitlessly hovering over his crotch and his eyes refusing to meet yours. "Umm," he squeaks. "I think we need to talk."

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

34. Sun and Moon

Note: This was a lot of fun to write….potentially one of my fav chapters yet.

Masterlist here

Continuing their deserved break, the group has been lounging around their house. While Karina, Giselle and Ningning loved it since it has been a while they had been stationary, Winter had a different idea, contradict to her MBTI. She approached Y/n with a proposition that had been on her mind for a while.

“Hey, Y/n?” Winter called out softly, standing at the entrance of his room. Her tone was quieter than usual, carrying a sense of vulnerability.

Y/n, who was sprawled out on his bed, glanced up from his phone. A bit perplexed actually, considering she barely called him by his name “What’s up?”

Winter shifted slightly, as if trying to find the right words. “I was wondering… Would you like to take a trip with me? Just for a day.”

“A trip?” Y/n sat up, intrigued. “Where to?”

“Sokcho,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face. “I just thought… we could use some fresh air, you know? Plus, I’ve been wanting to spend some time with you. Just the two of us.”

Y/n raised his eyebrows in surprise. Sokcho was known for its scenic beauty and peaceful environment, far from the bustling life they’d been living lately. It sounded like a nice escape.

“I mean, yeah. That sounds great,” Y/n said, trying to play it cool despite feeling a bit nervous. “When do you want to go?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re free?” Winter asked, her voice soft.

Y/n nodded. “Aight sure. Go sleep then."

"Mhm. Night"

"Night." Right as Winter retreated into her room, Y/n glanced at the other girls, a mixture of smirk and intrigue adorned on their face.

"Ooooh, that's what you called a date, Y/n-oppa." Ningning wooed.

"Bring protection~" Giselle joked.

"Finally, they're moving." Karina sighed.

-

The trip to Sokcho began in the early hours of the morning. Y/n and Winter piled into the car, the city lights of Seoul fading into the distance as the sun peeked over the horizon. However, despite the peaceful atmosphere of the drive, there was an undeniable awkwardness between them. After Winter’s confession a few weeks ago, this was the first time they had hung out alone.

Y/n glanced at Winter, who sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with her phone in silence. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words felt caught in his throat.

What was he supposed to say?

That he was happy she kissed him?

That he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since?

Winter, on her end, stole a few glances at him as well, but the silence remained. It wasn’t the comfortable quiet they usually shared, but something heavier—like both of them were waiting for the other to make a move.

The tension lingered as they made their way through the winding roads toward Sokcho. Y/n tried to make small talk, pointing out random things like the scenery or asking Winter what kind of music she wanted to listen to. She responded, but it was clear neither of them was fully comfortable just yet.

-

When they finally arrived in Sokcho, the morning had turned into a bright, sunny afternoon. They parked the car and wandered through the town, the salty sea breeze filling the air. Still, the awkwardness persisted.

“So… where to first?” Y/n asked, scratching the back of his neck, trying to break the lingering awkwardness from earlier.

Winter’s eyes sparkled as she scanned the busy streets. “Food stalls,” she declared confidently, turning to Y/n with a grin. “I didn’t come all the way to Sokcho just to see the ocean. I want to try everything.”

Y/n chuckled, relieved that Winter was starting to sound more like her usual self. “Lead the way then, foodie.”

They walked side by side through the bustling streets, the smell of freshly grilled seafood and sweet treats filling the air. Vendors called out to them, tempting them with colorful displays of skewers, hotteok, and deep-fried shrimp.

Winter spotted a vendor selling grilled octopus and tugged on Y/n’s sleeve. “Look at that! We have to try it.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “You sure? That looks intense.”

Winter shot him a playful glare. “What, are you scared of a little octopus? Come on, don’t be such a wimp.” She handed over a few bills to the vendor, receiving a sizzling skewer in return.

She took a bite first, her eyes widening in delight. “Oh my god, this is so good! You’ve gotta try it.”

Y/n hesitated before taking a bite. His face lit up almost instantly. “Okay, I take it back. This is amazing.”

“See? Trust me when it comes to food,” Winter said, smugly handing over another skewer.

They continued to wander, stopping at different food stalls to sample everything from spicy tteokbokki to crispy hotteok. Each bite was better than the last, and Y/n found himself enjoying the simplicity of the day. The food stalls provided an easy distraction from any lingering awkwardness, and the banter between them slowly returned to normal.

At one point, Winter found a stall selling local specialties—Ojingeo Sundae (squid stuffed with noodles and vegetables). She eyed it curiously. “This looks wild.”

Y/n leaned over her shoulder, making a face. “That’s… a lot of squid.”

Winter shot him a teasing look. “What? Afraid again?”

“I’m not afraid of squid,” Y/n replied defensively, folding his arms. “I just think it’s… ambitious.”

She smirked, buying the dish despite his protests. As they ate, she laughed at the face Y/n made, his expression shifting between curiosity and hesitation with every bite. “You’re such a baby,” she teased.

Y/n grimaced as he chewed. “I’m starting to question your taste buds, honestly.”

After their impromptu food tour, they made their way through the narrow streets, browsing small boutiques and traditional shops. Winter immediately gravitated towards a small store selling handmade jewelry, her eyes sparkling at the delicate pieces on display.

“Look at this,” Winter said, holding up a bracelet made of polished sea glass. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Y/n nodded. “It suits you.”

Winter smiled, placing it back on the display. “You think?”

They continued wandering, passing by stores filled with trinkets, clothes, and small souvenirs. Winter’s curiosity led them into a quaint, old bookstore, its wooden shelves filled with old editions of Korean literature and classic novels.

Y/n picked up a dusty book from one of the shelves, flipping through the yellowed pages. “You know, if you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be spending a day off like this, I’d have laughed.”

Winter glanced over at him, her expression softening. “What do you mean?”

“I guess I just never thought I’d be here,” Y/n said, placing the book back. “With you, exploring Sokcho, being… well, normal.”

Winter smiled at that, her fingers brushing over the spines of the books. “I like it. It’s nice to have these quiet moments.”

Would you look at that. They were talking easily again, just like old times.

-

By the time they made their way to the beach, the sun had started its descent, casting a golden glow across the water. They found a quiet spot away from the crowds and sat down, watching the waves crash against the shore.

Winter leaned back, resting her arms on the bench, her eyes closed as she soaked in the sunlight. “This is perfect,” she murmured, her voice soft.

Y/n watched her for a moment, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. It was easy to forget their busy lives when moments like these came around—quiet, unassuming, and filled with a kind of warmth that was rare.

Well, Winter had been way too quiet for the past few minutes, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Y/n, sensing that something was on her mind, turned to her. "You okay, Jeong?"

Winter sighed softly, resting her chin on her knees. "Do you remember when we first met? Like, way back when we were kids?"

Y/n blinked, a bit surprised by the question. "Yeah, of course. I think it was... what, third grade?"

Winter nodded, her lips curling into a small, nostalgic smile. "We were so different back then. You were always getting into trouble, and I was too shy to talk to anyone except you."

Y/n chuckled. "Ok, I wasn’t that bad. I was just a bit more energetic than others."

"You were," she countered, laughing. "But you were also the one who made me feel comfortable enough to come out of my shell. You were my first real friend."

The fondness in her voice made Y/n’s chest tighten. "I guess I was kind of your manager back then, huh?"

"it’s basically your fate at this point." Winter joked.

"Oh god, you're right." Y/n laughed. "My destiny is already predetermined as a child."

Winter smiled softly, her eyes twinkling with the memories. "Well, you always stood up for me when the older kids teased me. I’ve never forgotten that. I guess… I never really stopped depending on you."

Y/n looked at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice. "Well, We's been looking for each other our whole life."

"..you did not just quote Sun and Moon just then." Winter gasped.

"I just did." Y/n rubbed his nose, seemingly proud. "But yea, I always had your back, Minjeong. You know that."

Winter nodded slowly, taking in his words. Her attention wasn't anywhere else but at her childhood friend.

There was a beat of silence, the only sound being the gentle rhythm of the waves. Then, her voice came out soft, almost hesitant. "Back then, I never really understood why I liked being around you so much. But now… I think I do."

Y/n’s heart raced, unsure of where this was headed. "What…do you mean?"

Winter’s fingers toyed with the sand between them, her expression thoughtful. "Remember when I kissed you after the world tour? You thought it was a prank, but…”

Winter took a deep breath, removing her inner doubts. “…I meant it, Y/n. It wasn’t just some joke."

Y/n blinked, his breath catching in his throat. "You… what?"

Winter turned to face him fully, her eyes filled with a mix of nerves and sincerity. "I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I didn’t know how to say it. I thought that kiss would get the message across…but I disguised it as a prank to make it easier…"

Y/n sat there, speechless. The confession he’d been waiting for was finally out in the open, but he hadn’t expected it to come with so much emotional weight. His mind raced as he tried to process everything she had just said. "Minjeong, I—"

"I know it’s a lot," she cut him off gently. "And I don’t expect you to say anything back right away. I just wanted you to know the truth."

"I wasn't joking at all, and you" she pointed at him.

"Jung Y/n, completely stole my heart." She gave him her signature smile, but it looked so sweet at that moment.

And Y/n couldn't hold it anymore.

"…gahhhh you beat me to it." Y/n flopped down to the soft sand, the pressure finally was off his shoulder. He gave out a satisfying sigh, confusing his childhood friend.

"Beat me?" Winter tilted her head. "You mean…"

"Exactly what you think it is." Y/n connected his gaze with hers. "You, Kim Minjeong…also completely stole my heart."

"…Really?" Winter whimpered, surprised by the confession.

"Mhm." Y/n nodded. "I’ve liked you too, for a long time now actually. I just… I didn’t know how to bring it up either. I thought I might ruin our relationship if I said anything."

Winter’s eyes softened, her hand reaching out to rest on top of his. "Ya, you could never ruin what we have. Not with something as long as our relationship."

The simple gesture and her words made something inside Y/n relax. He squeezed her hand gently, the tension that had built up between them all day dissolving into a warm, mutual understanding.

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of their confessions sink in. The sun was beginning to set fully now, casting long shadows across the sand. Y/n’s heart was pounding in his chest, but for the first time since the kiss, he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

Winter stood up, brushing the sand off her jeans before turning to Y/n with a playful smile. "Come on, let’s walk."

"Oh you forgot something.." Y/n pointed.

"Huh? Where?" Winter frantically looked around her seating area before realizing a pair of lips touched her forehead.

Y/n kissed her forehead! Minjeong got red so fast!

"Revenge for the prank." Y/n smiled. "Crybaby"

"Tsk, whatever, idiot." Still with the same nickname, but this time they knew that it was theirs and only theirs.

They strolled along the beach, the waves lapping gently at their feet. The conversation flowed more easily now, their earlier nervousness replaced by the comfort of knowing where they stood with each other.

After a while, Winter nudged him lightly. "You know, I think this trip was exactly what we needed."

Y/n smiled, glancing over at her. "Yeah. I think so too."

They walked in companionable silence, the air between them light and easy. When they finally made their way back to the car, the sky had darkened, the stars just beginning to peek out.

As they drove back to Seoul, the radio played softly in the background. The familiar tune of Sun and Moon drifted through the speakers, and Winter turned it up, grinning at Y/n. "Your favorite."

Y/n chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "Yeah, it is. I quoted from it a while ago, if you didn't notice.”

"Freaking hell…" Winter facepalmed, but soon followed by a chuckle. Whatever their relationship label is, the actual bond remained the same.

Idiot and crybaby.

-

By the time they returned to the dorm later that evening, the other members were already lounging in the living room, clearly waiting for them. The moment Y/n and Winter walked through the door, all eyes were on them.

“So,” Karina said, a teasing grin on her face, “how was your little trip?”

Y/n and Winter exchanged a glance before Winter replied with a smirk, “It was nice. Peaceful.”

“Peaceful, huh?” Giselle raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you’re going to tell us?”

Ningning, who was sprawled out on the couch, giggled. “Come on, guys. Let them have their secrets. We already know what happened but we'll dig it out eventually.”

Y/n rolled his eyes playfully, knowing the teasing wasn’t going to end anytime soon. But for once, he didn’t mind. He was happy. And so was Winter.

As the night wore on and the group settled into their usual banter, Y/n caught Winter’s eye from across the room. She gave him a small, knowing smile, and he felt his heart flutter.

Things were different now. But in the best way possible.

As Y/n sat back, watching his chaotic yet beloved group of friends (and his new girlfriend), he knew that:

"'Cause together, there's no way we'll lose Just us two, every time"

- Winter, 2024

[fluentmoviequoter]

Do You Want to Keep Another Secret?

Part 2 of Do You Want to Keep a Secret?

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!reader

Summary: After the team finds out about Luca's secret girlfriend, he invites them over to share another secret involving a ring and an important question.

Warnings: more of the "book club" joke, Street's a good friend, Duke's a good boy, this is pure fluff

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask. You look down to smooth your new outfit and miss Street’s dramatic eye roll.

“You look amazing. Duke thinks so, too,” he replies.

“But-“

“Future Mrs. Luca, it’s dinner with Deacon and Annie Kay, not an audition for the next season of The Bachelor.”

You chuckle before thanking Street. Since you met, he’s become a good friend, and you’re thankful for all he does for Luca. The nerves aren’t only about spending time around people you don’t know well but extend to your upcoming anniversary. You’ve been with Luca for a while, and although you’ve never been happier, you aren’t sure if you show him enough.

“Hey. Wow, you look beautiful!” Luca exclaims as he enters. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, she is,” Street answers, glaring at you. “Don’t let her change again.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about; you’ve met Deac,” Luca soothes. “And Annie is just as kind.”

You nod and lean against Luca’s side. With a wave to Street and a quick pat on Duke’s head, you follow Luca to his truck. He’s a gentleman, so he opens the door and leans in to buckle your seatbelt.

“I won’t tell you how to feel, but you look amazing, and I’ll be with you the whole time,” Luca promises.

Dinner went just as well as Luca and Street said it would. Deacon is kind and funny when he can talk without his team drowning him out. Annie complimented you and your outfit and made you feel like part of the family. There really was no reason to be nervous.

Returning to the truck, you’re in better spirits than when you arrived. Your smile is wide and bright, and Luca can’t keep his eyes off you. He kisses you before shifting the truck into reverse and backing out of Deacon and Annie’s driveway. You watch Luca drive and decide to do everything you can to stay by his side for the rest of your life.

As you walk into Luca’s house, Duke greets you happily, and Street is in the same spot as when you left. Street shakes his head when he sees your smile and murmurs something suspiciously like, “Told you so.”

“I’ve got an early morning, so I have to go,” you say apologetically. “Thank you, Luca. And thanks, Street, for the-“

“Common sense? No problem,” he interjects.

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Luca asks.

“Our weekly coffee date,” Street answers. “We have to have a little privacy to talk about you.”

Luca looks between you and Street several times before shrugging. “Okay.”

You kiss Luca before walking out of the door. He ensures you’re safe in your car and on your way home before he returns and sits on the couch.

“Streeter, are you up for two more book club meetings?” he asks.

“For what?’ Street inquires. 

“Reading.”

“Welcome,” Street says as he opens the door. “This better not be a waste of our day off.”

“It won’t be,” Hondo answers. “What’s the word, Luca?”

Luca raises a velvet ring box and smiles. “You said we had to talk about it.”

“Then let’s skip to that,” Deacon agrees. “No more period romances.”

“Except for Luca’s. Modern day is still a period,” Street argues.

“That’s enough out of you, playboy,” Hondo jokes. “Lay it out, Luca.”

Luca joins his team in the living room and takes a deep breath. He has their support no matter what, and he knows the plan is good, but he’s nervous.

“Duke’s going to help me,” Luca begins. “I’m going to take her to a scenic overlook in the hills. We went there for one of our first dates and we still use it as an escape. With Duke’s help to carry the ring, I’m just going to wait for the right moment and ask her to marry me.”

“I don’t know, man,” Tan replies. “It could be bigger; like-“

“It’s perfect,” Deacon interrupts. “It means something to you, and her, and your relationship. That’s what is important.”

“She’s going to love it,” Street agrees. “And she will say yes, so stop stressing.”

“There’s just…” Luca says before shrugging.

“If not for you, she’ll say yes to Duke,” Chris teases.

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Luca says. He finally smiles again, and Deacon decides that you’re the best thing that has happened to Luca.

“Wait! You said two book clubs,” Street remembers. “What’s the next one?”

“I’ll let you know after she says yes.”

“A picnic with Duke?” you repeat.

“Uh, yeah, unless you’re busy,” Luca answers.

He’s glad he decided to call you rather than ask you in person. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, and his nervousness is visible. If you could see him, you’d hold his face and ask what was bothering him, and he’d probably tell you everything.

“That sounds perfect, Luca!”

Luca sighs in relief before offering to pick you up later. He doesn’t want to wait another day to propose; he needs you in his life, even if he does have a minuscule fear, deep down, that you will say no.

“Luca, this is too much!” you say as you climb into the passenger seat. “How are we even going to eat all of that?”

“Why do you think I brought Duke?” Luca jokes.

“Where are we going?”

“The overlook. We haven’t been in a while, and I thought, since it’s a nice day, it’s the perfect picnic spot.”

You smile and lean back in the seat. Duke lays his head in your lap, and you stroke his fur as Luca drives. When you arrive at the overlook, you take Duke’s leash as he bounds out of the car. Luca refuses to let you carry anything except the leash as he takes the oversized picnic basket out.

“I’ll trade you,” Luca says after he lays the blanket down.

Luca covers your hand as he takes Duke’s leash. He has a lot of energy to burn off before he sits (Duke and Luca both). You get comfortable on the picnic blanket and peek into the basket. There’s plenty of delicious food and two books. You chuckle at the long-lived book club joke but close the basket before Luca and Duke return.

“Street said he knew your favorite book, but I listened to your recommendation,” he says as he lowers beside you.

“Doyle,” you murmur as he hands you a book. “You do love me!”

“Open it.”

You obey, and when you see ‘I love you. Life is better with you. – Luca… and Duke’ written on a hand-painted card inside, you look up quickly.

Your surprise at the note disappears as you drop the book. Luca is on one knee, and Duke sits at attention beside him.

“Yes!” you blurt out.

Luca smiles and shakes his head but begins speaking despite your advanced answer. “I love you. Every moment with you makes me love you more, and I don’t want to go back to a life without you. Will you stay by my side now and forever? Will you marry me?”

You move onto your knees and wrap your arms over Luca’s shoulders to hug him tightly. You nod against his neck and repeat your earlier answer as his arms wrap around your waist. Duke barks excitedly and kisses your cheek.

“Hey, that’s my job, Duke,” Luca says playfully before pushing you back enough to kiss you.

When he breaks the kiss, he moves a hand from your waist to retrieve the ring box from Duke’s collar. You gasp when you see the ring; it’s beautiful and perfect, and you know that every time you see it, you will remember Luca and the love between you.

“I love you,” you whisper. “And I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you,” Luca replies. “But could we eat first?”

“I guess,” you say, feigning disappointment. “As long as you and Duke stay by my side.”

“Forever,” Luca promises.

“There she is!” Hondo exclaims. He hugs you before he sits for the last and most important book club meeting.

“Congratulations,” Deacon tells you.

“Let me see the ring!” Chris requests before taking your hand.

“I already threw them a party, but I guess we could do another one with their second-best friends,” Street says tiredly.

“I don’t actually know why I’m here,” you admit. “But thank you, all of you, for welcoming me into your family and all of the congratulations.”

“Of course,” 20 Squad says together.

“You deserve it for putting up with Luca and Street,” Chris adds.

“Enough,” Luca calls. “You’re here for those.”

He points to the boxes on the table: one for each person, with their names written on the top. They stand before their personalized boxes and look at one another before opening them slowly.

“Will you be… my groomsmen?” Hondo reads. “Luca, man, of course.”

He moves to hug Luca, and you walk toward Chris.

“What do you say? Please don’t feel pressured to say yes because of Luca,” you say.

She doesn’t answer as she pulls you into a tight hug.

“About time there was another girl around here,” she mumbles before agreeing to be in your bridal party.

Street pushes Chris out of the way to hug you, and you laugh as Deacon, Hondo, Tan, and Chris join him. You are part of their family, and you can’t imagine being any happier than you are now.

“Does this mean I don’t need to keep anymore secrets?” Street asks.

“No secrets to keep,” you answer. “Just make sure you save the date.”

Duke barks and Luca pushes his way past Street to hug you. He takes your hand and taps your ring before he kisses your temple. You’re happy here, and it will only get better as you plan a wedding and spend forever with Luca. 

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 3

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.7k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: The great 141 road trip is fine in the beginning, but being on the road for eleven hours clearly gets to everyone, especially you. For once, Ghost tries to show you some genuine compassion without any ulterior motives. 

A/N: Thought that this would not only be a fun part to write, but also a breather to get to develop more character dynamics. Feel free to comment what you think each member of the 141 favorite music genre is! Including your own~

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

Such a long drive was new territory for the boys. They were so used to helicopter rides, armored cars, and jets to take them where they needed to go fast. For their size and stature, the minivan was cramped, slightly rough on the road, and just plain weird. It took a few seat adjustments before everyone was as comfortable as they could be. Save for Gaz. He just prayed that a pit stop was coming soon and someone would be willing to switch seats with him.

For the first hour, the ride was noisy with conversation. Conversation that tried to reel you in. Price, looking through the front windshield, asked you a question. “How do you know where you’re going, Hex?”

“I’ve spent time memorizing road maps around the area. We’re taking a back road. A scenic route. Any other cars on the road would further see this minivan as a family road trip through the country.” You elaborated, your eyes steady on the road ahead. There were a lot of twists and turns on this route, but you knew that it would pay out in the end.

“Hidden in plain sight.” Soap added, his tone showing that he was a bit impressed with the logic of it all. Perhaps you knew what you were doing after all. Without you meaning to or doing anything extraordinary, the group was slowly starting to trust you and your judgment as evidenced by your creative planning. You were becoming quite the leader as well. But, you weren’t completely out of the woods yet. They still kept some of their guards up, just in case.

“There’s a method to the madness. Don’t underestimate the power of assumptions.” You advised, a word of advice that would hopefully stick with them after all of this was over. If they listened, perhaps some problems the world was facing could actually be solved. 

Soap pulled out his phone with the intention of making this trip more enjoyable. Making sure that his VPN you required was turned on, he began to browse through songs using his music app. Once he added his favorite songs, he passed it to his captain. “Whatever you want, Cap. No genre limits.”

Price took the phone and rubbed his chin for a second in thought, his brick-brown beard moving with his fingers. Eventually, he added some songs to the playlist. Once he was satisfied, he passed the phone to Gaz who lit up at the idea. “Now it’s gonna feel like a real road trip!”

A few more songs were added before the phone was passed all the way up to Ghost. Hesitantly, Ghost added his own favorite songs. His teammates knew him decently well. They’re even seen his face before under the mask. However, there were still things they were learning about when it came to his personal life. One of which was his favorite kind of music. Thankfully, he was willing to share that information, trusting his team more and more with each passing day. 

He looked at you when he was done, wondering if he should even offer. Having watched the interactions from the mirror, you decided to stay out of it. When Ghost was done, you just shook your head for a silent “no.” Simon imagined that you were rejecting the idea in your mind based on the warning look you gave him. Don’t even try. That made him really wonder what kind of music you liked. The records back home were incredibly diverse. But what was your favorite? Jazz? Metal?

The phone was passed back to Soap. It was quite a diverse playlist. He didn’t realize that his team had such different tastes, but it just made him excited to give it a listen. He connected it to the car’s bluetooth and hit the shuffle button. Ghost went ahead and switched the car to bluetooth mode for him. Almost immediately, the car filled up with music, starting with one of Price’s songs. 

Instead of tuning out, you tuned in. Very much so. Small details, even favorite songs, could say a lot about a person. You were learning about the men now. Not for the sake of potential friendship, no. For the sake of information for potential future manipulation if things went sideways. You always prepared for the worst, even when times seemed like the best. 

The discussion carried forward, now with the ease of real music in the background. Gaz decided to take the plunge and ask you a question. “So. . . Hex. . . You lived a long time out in the woods. How did you survive on your own? There doesn’t seem to be a grocery store for miles around.”

You adjusted your sitting position, trying to get comfier in the driver’s seat. If you were going to deal with this for most of the trip, you might as well get as comfortable as you can. You answered, one hand on the wheel and one arm resting near the window. “I have an acquaintance who’s a farmer that gives me whatever I need. In return, I pleasure his wife, which helps save their marriage.”

His eyes got huge, not expecting the answer. He nearly tripped over his words. “Really?!”

“No, Kyle. You really think I would do such a thing?” You scowled. Internally, though, you were cracking up at his bewilderment. Soap and Price began chuckling in their seats. Even Simon was cracking a smile that no one could see. Kyle’s embarrassed blush that matched the falling red leaves outside made them even more amused. Who knew you had a sense of humor? A crude sense at that. 

He muttered an apology. At least he was a good sport about it. A part of him found it quite funny too. After the chuckles died down, you answered his question truthfully. “Kate does supply drops for me. Not all the time, just when I need more meat than the woods can provide. Everything else I grow.”

It was an answer that made sense and didn’t reveal much about yourself. Nothing too fascinating about it. At least, to everyone save for Ghost. He took note of your truth, pictured you growing fruits and vegetables, hands in the dirt and sweat dripping down your temple. He imagined you hunting too. A heavy rifle and camo. Patience, aim, fire. He thought that some of the foods he had from your kitchen tasted a little gamey. 

“Didn’t you ever get lonely being out there all by yourself?” Soap inquired, not afraid to ask the question that was on everyone’s mind. All eyes were on you as you took a deep breath.

“No, Johnny. Never.”

This was partially a lie as well as partially the truth. There were times where you did feel alone. Like the only human left on the planet. Kate’s calls every now and then help curb it a little, but it wasn’t the same as actually being in the same space with someone physically. Yet, when you were surrounded by people on a classified mission or watching disaster after disaster on TV, it made you glad that you weren’t a part of any of it. The flurry of different emotions coming from all different sides when with civilization was often too much for you. You needed control. More control than what you could usually get when you were on the outside again.

Simon was watching you carefully now, trying to pick up any indication of a cracked resolve. A twitch, a change in breathing, anything to read into further. There was no way you never felt lonely. Yet, you said it with such conviction that it startled everyone. Ghost just couldn’t believe you.

Having killed the conversation, the boy awkwardly tried to change topics. Now excluding you. Good. You preferred it this way.

~

A few hours in and the car was quiet. Light, easy music played now from the car speakers as everyone took a nap. Except for Ghost, of course. Fortunately, he did keep himself occupied by reading the book you lent him. The first couple of chapters were a miss in his opinion. After a couple more, it started to get good. It didn’t take him long to actually get invested in the story, reading between the lines as you had done when you read. You had good tastes.

Enjoying the quietness of the trip was something you didn’t think you would be able to do. Especially with Simon in the front. Surprisingly, he was being good which you hoped would like for the rest of the trip. Unfortunately, you jinxed it in your head. Out of the corner of your eye, he bookmarked his spot and took a break. Now, he wanted to talk to you.

“You didn’t play your own music.” 

“So?” You shrugged, wondering where he was going with this. Nothing good probably.

“Why not?” He simply asked, himself not knowing what the big deal was. It was just music. You could have even lied. Picked out music you hated. Instead, you just opted out, not even willing to risk three minutes of any particular melody.

You suppressed an annoyed groan. Not this shit again. “What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand, Simon?”

There you go again, saying his name with such disrespectful ease. It still made his heart beat faster hearing it from you. It still made his muscles tense in vexation as well. You noticed this from how the grip on his arms got tighter, his arms crossing his chest. “How much could music taste actually reveal about you as an individual?”

“A lot! God damn it, when are you going to drop this stupid shit? Quit playing your stupid fucking game?!” You spat, trying to keep your cursing at a low volume lest you wake up the rest of the team. Your knuckles were turning white with how hard you were gripping the steering wheel, desperately trying to keep your cool.

However, he didn’t drop it. He didn’t want to, so he wouldn’t. Simon could be just as stubborn as you which made you want to punch him. Have his teeth fall out of his mouth and get caught in his skull mask. “You mean to tell me that you’ve learned a lot about us based on our favorite songs alone? That’s just ridiculous, Hex.”

He could use your name as a curse too. Anything to get you to keep talking to him. Anything to keep your attention. To figure you out. As much as you didn’t want to give him what you wanted, you did anyway out of sheer aggravation. “It’s called Music Psychology, you fucking ass! Do they do anything besides tell you what to shoot in that god forsaken military?! Do they really keep you all fucking braindead?!”

“Watch your mouth, Hex! You don’t want to say anything you don’t mean.” Simon warned, his voice low like a bass about to snap its strings. He had to remind himself that you weren’t like them when it came to combat approach to cool down. The 141 employed leadership, strength, swift execution. An assassin like you employed other values, one being the art of psychology apparently. 

He wasn’t going to let you badmouth his team and those back home that don’t deserve your slander, though. Many people back home were plenty capable with their own skill sets. It wasn’t fair to put them all in one box just because they followed the orders of the government.

“Watch my mouth?! Have you even heard the shit that’s coming out of yours?! Or is your head so far stuck up your own ass that you can’t hear what you say?” You antagonized further, making the situation worse with each passing insult.

“Why are you so fucking defensive?! You cracked a joke earlier, but now asking about your music tastes is too much? You don’t make any fucking sense, Hex. What the hell are you so afraid of?” His own voice was rising with volume as he spiraled out of control as well.

You were practically yelling at this point like the rest of the world didn’t exist except for you and Simon. A personal bubble where you could really try to rip him a new one. You didn’t hold back. “I’m not afraid of anything, Ghost! I just want you to leave me the fuck alone! Why are you so desperate to know me?!

“You’re part of this team, whether you like it or not!  Whether you want to be an enemy or not! Part of that is trusting us with your life. All of it!” He argued, trapping himself in this conflict bubble with you.

Your temper was boiling over to the point you could cry. Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn’t he just let this go? “Why can’t you understand that I am never going to be part of your team?! I never can and I never will!”

At that he paused. There was something about your last retort. Never can? It was oddly specific. What did that mean?

Just then, the light for gas lit up on the dashboard. You clenched your jaw, cursing more profanities that would have anyone blush. A couple miles down was a gas station. A wave of relief washed over you. Now you had an excuse to exit the car to get away from Simon.

You didn’t realize it before with how provoked you were, but the 141 in the back was awake and clearly heard the two of you bickering. The tension thick enough to choke on made it hard for them to interfere. This pit stop would hopefully let things settle down again.

As soon as the car was parked near an empty pump, the doors slid open to let the men out. It felt good to stretch their legs and breathe in some fresh air. It was about time Gaz was relieved of the back seat too. Price, Soap, and Gaz headed into the convenience store for a moment to pick up drinks and snacks, something that was essential for their road trip experience. You leaned against the car, waiting for the gas pump to finish. The entire time, Ghost sat silently in the front doing his own breathing exercises to get his temper under control. God, you were venomous. Troublesome, irritating, infernal, a million other words. Yet, you were beautiful when you were pissed. He couldn’t understand it.

Finally, the car was loaded up once again, now complete with drinks, snacks, and a full tank of gas. The seating arrangements changed, Price now in the back to allow Gaz a chance to let his legs stretch out more. Besides that, he didn’t really want to be up front with all of the conflict. He would normally break it up, but he still didn’t know enough about you to feel comfortable doing so. It was better for this to just play out. It wasn’t like Ghost couldn’t hold his own.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Soap ripped open a bag of chips followed by a joke. “Looks like mom and dad are fighting again.”

The smirk on his face was quickly wiped away as a pair of keys jingled right near his ear, embedded in his head rest. You had turned from your seat as soon as you registered his distasteful joke, thrown the car keys like a knife, and narrowly missed pinning his ear against the fabric. The car was dead silent as you stared daggers into him. Despite being a strong man with plenty of experiences with danger along with close calls, this experience had Johnny near pissing himself. If looks could kill, he would have been six feet under already.

What was worse was the fact that you missed on purpose. 

“Shut the fuck up! You are not to insinuate that again. Ever! Now, I don’t want anyone trying to talk to me or talk about me for the rest of this fucking trip. Talk to each other, I don’t give a shit. But no more dragging me into any conversation. Are we fucking clear?!”

You were met with quick, obedient nods followed by Soap gingerly handing you back your keys. Before you all knew it, you were back on the road like you didn’t just nearly kill Soap.

Simon was speechless, not expecting you to be so. . . dangerous. His feelings about what just happened were conflicting. On one hand, he wanted to fight you to defend his trusted sergeant that meant no harm, even if he didn’t really like the joke either. On the other hand, he’s never been more attracted to a woman in his life.

The car ride was silent for the next several hours.

~

Your muscles ached from your stiff position. You’ve been driving this whole time, only allowing gas breaks to be your time to stretch out. The boys have rotated seats every stop, now including Ghost who was finally giving you some space by being in the back. Last stop, though, he moved right up to the front with you once again. 

You were getting the dreaded road trip tunnel vision. After so many hours of driving, you couldn’t see anything except for the road ahead. You weren’t so much as driving anymore. You more like just looking out the front windshield, barely keeping up with the surrounding area that passed by. What you normally would recognize as trees, road signs, and roadkill were now just a big blur.

“You’re tired.” Simon commented, treading very carefully. He didn’t want to start another fight. Far from it. He just couldn’t bear to see you so exhausted from driving. 

“I’m fine.” Your voice strained, having lost some of it from the screaming match earlier in the trip. You weren’t used to talking so much as you have been for the past week, let alone fighting with words. A warm cup of tea with honey sounded so good right now.

Ghost took a deep breath in before he gently settled his hand on your shoulder. The fact that you didn’t shrug his touch away was very telling that you were really out of it. “Come on, Hex. Just for a bit. Pull over and I’ll take over the drive. We can switch back after you recuperate.”

It took you a minute to agree. Pulling off to the side of the road, you switched places. The room to stretch out in the passenger side was very much needed. Your bones cracked as you really gave yourself time to take it easy for a moment. “Just an hour. Then, we’ll switch.”

He nodded, finally agreeing with you on something out loud. “Just an hour.”

~

You ended up dozing off for longer than intended. Despite the agreement, Simon let you rest. The trip was already almost complete anyway. What was two more hours to add to your much needed rest?

When the car slowed to a stop, the gang woke up out of their naps, eager to exit the minivan and head into the average-looking hotel you had designated as the new checkpoint. It was nearing dinner-time, the city bustling with people heading to enjoy their meals. Price was ready for something other than chips. Soap and Gaz were already discussing potential food spots as if they were tourists. 

As they unloaded the car to carry their things into the hotel, you stayed asleep. Dead asleep. The deepest sleep you have had in what felt like a lifetime. The men were careful to not wake you up as they unloaded luggage after luggage out of the trunk. When everything was squared away with checking in as well as bringing luggage up to the rooms, you were still snoozing away, much to their surprise.

Price opened up your door, ready to wake you up to get a move on. However, Ghost stopped his hand from touching you. “I’ll take her up. Just go ahead and grab some grub.”

Well, John wasn’t going to say no to that offer. He would rather not be bit by such a feral woman. Though, he did feel like he had to warn Ghost of what he was really doing, having observed just about everything he was trying to do in regards to you. “You’re playing with fire, you know.”

Ghost unlocked your seatbelt and picked you up out of the minivan in a princess carry. Miraculously, you still didn’t wake up. “I know. . .”

The hotel staff were concerned with him carrying you into the hotel. A large man with a skull mask carrying an unconscious lady certainly didn’t look good. In order to avoid interference, Simon had a lie ready for when a bodyguard approached. “I know the mask is scary, but it hides some burn scars. I’m just taking the missus up to the room. She fell asleep in the car.”

Not being paid enough to question the lie, he allowed the both of you to pass by. 

You were heavy in his arms, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He could feel the softness of your skin, the firmness of your muscles. He could make out each individual eyelash that just barely kissed under your eyes. As much as you drove him crazy, you truly were beautiful.

The ding of the elevator reaching their floor knocked him out of his trance. Using a room key, he headed into your space for the next couple of days. The room was pretty basic. A bed, a dresser, tv, bathroom, nightstands, a desk. The only thing that really made it stand out was the original art of the wall made by local, Italian artists. 

He settled your sleeping body down onto the queen-sized bed, brushing your hair out of your face as you settled into the mattress. Looking at you like this was a breath of fresh air for him. He didn’t think he would be able to see you like this so soon. 

Sleeping around others was a sign of trust. Were you just really that exhausted? Probably. Ghost would still take this as a sign of victory anyway.

For a few moments longer, he studied your features. The sound of his stomach grumbling for a meal encouraged him to leave you be for now to which his brain protested. Then again, you probably wouldn’t like it if you found out that he watched you sleep.

Before he left, he took one last look at you, burning the image into his mind. “You said you didn’t sleep, kitten.”

[forfucksakesniall]

Eloping with Lewis

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Trigger Warning/Content Advisory: Implied smut

His body was pressed up against yours, hands now cupping your waist, his arms still around you like a blanket. He pulled back a little, and his eyes, they were beautiful

“You know, love? I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you and I elope?”

He had said the words in a tone of voice that sounded like he had put a lot of thought into them.

“What do you say, my love?”

“Are you sure that is what you want? I don't want you to feel like we're rushing things” You ask him

“Baby. I know what I want.”

He brought his face up to yours again, looking directly into your eyes.

“Our wedding, it’s gonna be absolutely beautiful. But, you know, getting married, just the two of us.” You could almost hear him whisper, “And to be the first to see you in your dress.”

“So, what do you say, my beautiful love?"

I smile at him teary-eyed

“Is that a 'yes’?" He said with a sly smile.

“Because that’s what looks like a 'yes', sweetie."

You felt his grip tighten around your waist. His other hand moved up, resting under your chin. You could feel him lean closer to you, but then he pulls you closer to him.

He gives your chin a slight, yet gentle, squeeze, keeping your head at eye level with his.

"I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, my love. And I wanna do it sooner rather than later. So, will you marry me?"

He said those last words in a soft, yet sweet, whisper. He had said it in a matter that sounded like he was asking you for the first time.

“Yes! Yes!”

He hugged you tightly, his face pressed up against yours. His eyes, his eyes had nothing but passion and fire behind them. It was like he had been waiting his entire life for this moment. It seemed like he was the most excited person on Earth at that moment too.

He kissed you softly, but passionately.

"It's time I finally made you mine, my love. It's time I got my wedding ring on you. "My wife-to-be.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*✧･ﾟ: *✧

Lewis guides you to the car, helping you inside. 

"I have a surprise for you, darling," he says with a coy smile. 

"We're going to go on a trip to the salt flats in Bolivia." You are instantly excited, and your mind begins to race with thoughts of the possibilities. 

Lewis starts the car and pulls out onto the road, heading towards the salt flats. As the couple drives through the scenic countryside, You can't help but marvel at the beauty of Bolivia. You lean your head against Lewis's shoulder and breathe in the fresh air.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*✧･ﾟ: *✧

The couple stand together in the middle of the desert, in a private area surrounded by salt flats as far as the eye can see. The desert is still, and the air is dry and warm. The couple hold hands and look into each other's eyes, filled with love and excitement. They repeat their vows to each other, proclaiming their love and commitment. As they say their vows, they think of their future together and feel overwhelmed with joy and happiness.

"I, Lewis, pledge my love and devotion to you. I promise to always be by your side, in good times and in bad, and to cherish and protect you, for as long as we both shall live. I vow to support you in all your endeavors and to share your dreams and aspirations. I love you"

"I, Y/N, pledge my love and devotion to you, Lewis. I promise to always be by your side, in good times and in bad, and to cherish and protect you, for as long as we both shall live. I vow to support you"

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*✧･ﾟ: *✧

It was some time after your wedding. You and Lewis were now on a beach, with warm, crystal-blue water. He had pulled you into the water, and now he was holding onto you, pulling you to him while gently rocking back and forth.

“Babe.”

He smiled at you, kissing you again and again on the cheek as he held you against his warm body. His eyes were full of love and passion. Almost like he was drowning in his love for you.

Lewis had stopped rocking. He was just holding you close and listening to the gentle sounds of the beach.

“Babe, you’re so perfect.”

He was cherishing your presence, not just observing you. It was as if he were basking in the pure adoration of you.

"I love you so much.”

Lewis said those words so softly and passionately. It almost sounded like he had found meaning in those two words.

Your lips found him and it felt like home. Lewis’s strong, yet gentle hands held your back. Every moment of that honeymoon on the sun-kissed beach felt like years. 

It was at the end of the day. Your honeymoon was almost over, but your husband wouldn’t let it end. He grabbed you tightly, planting a fiery yet gentle kiss on your lips. He held you close like he never wanted to let go, and pulled you onto his lap. He kept his eyes locked with yours as he spoke, his voice almost a moan.

“I love you so much, my one and only.”

He continued kissing you, his voice filling the air like music. He kissed you passionately and lovingly. He kissed you like you were his entire world.

[windsweptinred]

@mashumaru I hope you don't mind me answering your question here? There was no way this was fitting in the comments section. 😅 So these are what I'd call more Sunday afternoon murder mysteries then gritty crime dramas, as that's what I'm mainly watching at the mo. But if you'd like some darker recs, just let me know.

Anywho...

Midsomer Murders

The ultimate Sunday afternoon watch. Murder most foul, represented artistically in the form of a cream tea. Starring Inspector Barnaby(s), the most teddy bear men ever to exist. Every episode will include chocolate box village eye porn. Murder weapons have included but are not limited to: a cheese wheel, drowned in chocolate, a headless horseman and a steampunk werewolf. It sounds ridiculous but once you start, you won't be able to stop. I promsie you. The horrors: 0/10, though may leave you with a life long phobia of morris dancers and village fetes.

The Morseverse (Endeavour/Inspector Morse and Lewis)

Ah Morseverse, my beloved. The English academic elite does crime. Oxford is it's own splendorous character, with every episode crammed full of towering libraries, awe inspiring architecture and fanatically manicured, college quads. A must watch for those whose hearts belong to dark academia. Endeavour and Morse are set in the 60s/70s and 80s/90s respectively. And follow the same character, Endeavour Morse, from brilliant, blue eyed, troubled twink to brilliant, blue eyed, grumpy old man with a definite alcohol problem. (Never play drink along with Morse, it's a surefire way to get alcohol poisoning.) The baton is then passed to his sergeant, Robert Lewis in Lewis, set in the relative present (as of this post). The relationship between Inspector and Sergeant is what ultimately makes these series, be it Fred Thursday and Morse, Morse and Lewis and Lewis and James Hathaway. And you'll come to treasure them. Be prepared to leave these series with a well earned fictional degree in classical music. Murders CAN and WILL be based on obscure, literary references. The horrors: Well it depends.... I'd say Endeavour is the darkest, Lewis is the lightest with Morse settled nicely in between. If you finish this series not wanting a Jaguar Mark II, you did it wrong.

Vera

Vera Stanhope, my northumbrian queen, my geordie goddess. A middle aged plus woman, with no makeup (or two f*cks to rubs together) decked in a brown hat and mac and driving the world most beaten up land rover.... Owns everyone. And it is sooo satisfying to watch. The scenic southern eye candy of the two previous recs is replaced with the wild, isolated landscapes of the North, very much reflecting our DI. She's joined by sergeant dark and dishy and the ever more put up Kenny Lockhart, as well as host of others. But what really makes this series is Vera herself. As equally formidable as she is kind hearted, with no hint of glamour. She's the kind of female representation we both need and deserve. The horrors: Vera passive aggressively calling vicious murderers 'pet' fixes all world problems. It's scientifically proven.

Things you may have heard of:

Sherlock Holmes, the Granada edition starring Jeremy Brett. No finer Sherlock has ever graced our screens to this day (And yes, I will stand and fight for that statement.) One of the most loyal adaptations of the books ever made.

Poirot, staring David Suchet. No offence to Kenneth Branagh (Your Henry V got me through high-school English lit sir). But David Suchet is THE Prirot for me. Another loyal book adaptation. Over a 25 year period Suchet lived and breathed Poirot and it shows.

If anyone's got any other recommendations please feel free to add them on. I know I've missed a ton! Anywho, I hope that helps me dear. 😁