#asked if it's a neighbor's or sum

[godnectar]

[planetmarge]

Every time I watch Saltburn I have to remember to turn down the volume on Michael Gavey's "ask me a fucking sum then!" Otherwise, what will the neighbors think

[bunbunlovestowrite]

How the Hashira men react to your neighbor asking you to be quiet

Characters: Tengen, Sanemi, Rengoku, Obanai, Gyomei, Giyuu,

Additional shit: Swearing, Sanemi fighting said neighbor, Rengoku being blunt, mentions of sex, ooc mot likely :p

Tengen

He couldn't care less

His whole thing is being flashy and loud so he wants you to be loud

Like it's not his fault that dick is magical

After he shoos your neighbor away he makes sure to be as loud as possible that night

He's pounding into your cunt and you swear your gonna break when he whispers "okay now scream exactly how big my dick is. Don't forget the tip color-"

He gets cut off by you hitting him with the pillow

Way to ruin the mood

But that doesn't stop him and instead he goes harder, making sure the bed creaks loud ASF for your neighbor

"Not my fault he doesn't know how to please a woman." Is his main reason for doing so

He really wants you to scream his name so it's imbedded in your neighbors head

"Morning N/N!" Him to your neighbor from the balcony while your trying to get out of bed and failing

"Actually die." Both you and your neighbor to Tengen

Sanemi

Cares alot

Why the fuck is that limp dick biscuit talking to you and him? Who does he think he is?

You were the one who broke the news to him thankfully cause if Sanemi was the one who opened the door then you'd have to see your husband through glass in a prison

Just kidding. The Slayer corp would get him out of trouble if he didn't do it himself.

Anyways

Sanemi made it his goal to piss your neighbor off as much as possible

Your under him, practically creaming on his cock, and he's slamming the wall yelling "This loud enough yet?! Huh!?"

Not kidding I can see him doing that

He quite literally had you against a window where your neighbors could see him destroying you just to make them mad or uncomfortable, hopefully both.

But then he'd get pissed someone else would see you all naked and fucked out so he settled for the wall next to the window

One day your neighbor, finally having enough, bangs on your door yelling and guess who opens it...Sanemi!!

Good Lord was he waiting for this

It took one punch and the guy was out

Kinda what happens when you put a normal dude against a guy who kills demons for a living

Rengoku

He's a good neutral between caring and not caring

Like he doesn't wanna make your neighbors mad but he also loves hearing your screams

So he tries to keep you quiet during sex but fails since he gets to into it to give a fuck

The next days his loud ass voice wakes you up

"IM SORRY FOR MAKING INCREDIBLE LOVE TO MY WIFE!" He's not being sarcastic thats his genuine apology

Your facepalming and you want to die when you see your neighbor and she can't look at you

"PERHAPS SHES MAD BECAUSE HER HUSBAND CANNOT PLEASE HER!" Rengoku says casually and you know she can hear you from outside in her garden

"Inside voices!" You place your hands over his mouth to try and shut him up.

It works for a bit before he's yelling again

You love your husband but holy shit you wish he would speak normally sometimes

He's actually quiet in bed though

So your the problem (real)

Obanai

I'm not an Obanai fan so forgive me for how bad his section will be

Obanai is a quiet mf, and you're not even that loud

It's your neighbor who was the problem

A little old man whose hearing aids apparently had the power of 67 suns

You and Obanai found this out when he was outside training and your neighbor came over

He was so sweet and polite and even chuckled at Obanai's redness

Obanai cared at first but got over it

You? You make sure to not make a PEEP in bed

Okay that pisses Obanai off but he understands your reasons

At least make a gasp or sum cause he's over here like "Wait does this feel good? Can she feel it? Did I forget where the clit is?"

Brother is STRESSING

Then you cum and he's like "ah"

Then he's like "Did you take it?"

You have to keep yourself from murdering him cause how tf would you fake squirting

Gyomei

Babe I'm not gonna lie, you're a screamer

Gyomei is built like a house and your telling me your just gonna whine and whimper?

NO

Your over here crying and screaming into his chest, neck, the pillow, anything.

And Gyomei loves it!

He can't see your reactions so hearing and feeling them let's him know he's doing good

Gyomei isn't loud but he's not quiet

He'll grunt and moan and praise you, but he's not gonna cry out.

Well he'll cry but you can never tell from what

When the pussy so good you start crying 😭🙏

When your neighbor politely asked you to be a tad bit quieter Gyomei actually laughed

Not in a 'nah we'll keep being loud' way but more of a 'sorry we'll be quiet' way. He also found it hilarious how you actually died of embarrassment.

Don't worry he thinks its endearing

Yet it was kinda hard for him since he enjoyed hearing you

But your touches and now quieter moans made that better

And then there's also you literally drawing blood from his back you were scratching so hard

Giyuu

Holy shit you have never seen him so embarrassed

Like you could shade match his Haori to him and get the exact same color

He was the one your neighbor told and he stopped working when 'loud' and 'moaning' left their lips

If a demon doesn't kill him then his own actions will

Giyuu isn't loud, and he loves that he can make you feel so good that your loud for him.

But he didn't want your neighbor back over at your house so he tried to keep you quiet

You were super confused when he held his hand over your mouth in bed and he just pointed to your neighbors house. Then you got it.

So you nod and try to keep quiet.

You know in school when the teacher tells you and a friend to shut up but they look at you funny and you break?

Yeah that was you

You were riding Giyuu one night and you were loud so he was like "holy shit I love you but please- I can't look our neighbor in the eyes anymore."

And you couldn't help but laugh

Like howling

You calmed down obviously but sex was very giggle filled after that

You've never seen Giyuu so panicked

But give him a week and he'll stop caring

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite.

Master Post | Next

Danny stared out at the busy street from behind his dumpster.

or well, not his dumpster, but it might as well be his considering how many nights he's spent sitting behind it like some rabid raccoon.

Two months ago, he would have been sleeping in his own bed. His glow-in-the-dark stars vaguely lighting up his room in soft luminescent colors. The sound of Jazz snoring in her sleep just a room over, his parents still milling around in the basement.

he would have just finished fighting the box ghost and collapsed onto his bed, the sound of his home lulling him to sleep.

Oh, how things can change in a blink of an eye.

No, instead of sleeping on his bed with his cartoon ghost sheets and NASA poster covered room, he's out here in some random dirty city, sleeping behind dumpsters.

dirty, grimy, rusty dumpsters.

"did you hear?" some lady dressed in a light blue summer dress asked, turning to look at her friend as they started to walk past. "Mr. Wayne donated another lump sum to that charity." she huffed, shaking her head like she had just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

her friend stopped in the middle of the alley opening, her graying hair splaying in an ark as she twisted to face the other women. "my word! again? what the hell is that man thinking?"

the woman huffed, then smirked in amusement. "it's like he's shouting for the world to hear how desperate he is for attention. he thinks if he donates enough money to those scoudrails they'll love him or something. With how he's acting lately, it's like he wants all the street rats to barge into his home asking for money, food, and clothes."

her friend clicked her tongue in disgust, "I'd believe it. he has so many kids now, it's like he's running an orphanage. someone, anyone really, with black hair and some tragic story could walk right in and not even be noticed. they'd blend right in with the others."

"I heard it's genetic, his father was the same way before he met Martha. Bruce's blood son, Damian I believe, acts just like his father. the boy's been spotted taking stray cats and dogs inside. It wouldn't surprise me if the paper posted about him convincing his father for another sibling at some point."

the women then turned and started to walk away, their conversation slowly bleeding into the surrounding city ruckus.

Danny leaned back, resting his head against the crumbling brick behind him.

walk right in and not be noticed? wouldn't that be grand. He had heard of Mr. wayne and his gaggle of black-haired children. What were their names again? he could have sworn Sam told him before, in one of her rants about rich society.

Richard Grayson was the first, Danny remembered because Tucker had been making none stop dick jokes for a few hours. Danny didn't understand why the man would willingly go by Dick, but then again, who was he to question someone's name when he fights ghosts like Skulker and Technis on a daily basis?

Next was... Jason? Sam had mentioned there was a whole conspiracy theory of how his death was a cover-up. how all the unsolved crime community swore it was Bruce who killed the kid, that or the kid had some terminal illness that Bruce didn't want the media to know about.

thennnnnn-

Danny glanced around, trying to dig through his memories of Sam's rant. Dick: the orphaned circus act taken in the night his parents died. he's romanie? maybe, Danny wasn't too sure on that one. Jason: taken off the streets, one of his parents was out of the picture and the other one died of a drug overdose.

and then there was..... Tim! Right, Tim, the one who was Mr. Wayne's neighbor before his mother died and his dad went into a coma, then died later on. right, right. he was the known tech genius, the one who took over the company while Mr. Wayne stepped back for a while.

there were others? like, four others? Damian, the lady said he was the blood son sooo, that would imply he was the only bio kid.

who else was there? hmmmm.

well, either way, Danny's tired brain agreed with the women. someone, anyone, who looked vaguely like the other kids could walk right into the house and no one would notice.

it was a bad idea. a terrible one really. but. Danny was hungry.

he's been sleeping behind dumpsters for a few weeks now, he hadn't had anything good to eat in forever, and he was tired. (not as exhausted as he was back home, but still tired. who would have guessed he'd sleep more while homeless?)

he wasn't going to steal from people, his core wouldn't allow him to. and well, he's pretty sure Dan would have stolen already, so there was no way Danny was going to. not unless his life was at risk, and well? it wasn't right now, so no stealing.

but this? walking right into a house and blatantly taking food? right in front of them?

it wouldn't be stealing if he just flat-out didn't try to hide it. they'd be able to stop him and send him away. heck, he doubted he'd even make it past the front gate before they turned him away.

...

was he really going to do this?

...

yes, yes he was.

standing up, Danny started making his way out of the alleyway and over to the tall building with Wayne's name on it. It was a good place to start, maybe he could even find one of the kids and walk with them. or, even better, he could find Mr. Wayne and walk with him. he liked that better than following some kid around.

suddenly, a car honked right next to him, the window rolling down to reveal a tired and disheveled man behind the wheel. glancing up, Danny made eye contact with the taxi driver.

the man yawned and gestured for him to get in, already speaking before Danny could decline. "Mr. Wayne! Your father," yawn, "Father already paid for me to take you home. just hop in."

Danny blinked then glanced around, looking to see if the Wayne the man was talking about was around. nope. turning back, Danny spotted a green sticky note on the back seat.

well, alright then. guess he was getting into the taxi and doing this after all. Clockwork obviously approved if he messed with the timing of things.

Next

[cherry-pop-elf]

Cup Of Sugar

Deadpool x Reader x Wolverine

Authors Note: Since Yall finally see the beauty of Poolverine, you finally get some stupid fluff. Here ya go

Sum: You were neighbors with Blind Al, and that chaotic son of hers. Recently you’ve been hearing alot of noise, and figured you check on them both. Like a good neighbor. Seems to have been just the right time

Warnings: Fluff, canon typical violence, Logan and Wade being so gay in their own way, Blind Al being a total wing woman, dogpool aprecitation post, family fluff because god dammit Mama Blind Al and her sons boyfriend with their new dog domestic fluff is needed!

“Will you two knock it off! I don’t need another damn couch in this house-!” You would hear Al shout. Not the first time, but the noise seemed so much more wild as of recent. Like some kind of badger was joining the party. Couldn’t help it with your worry. She was blind after all. So, here you are. Knocking on her door.

“Get along-! Well, or like STOP GETTING ALONG-!” You heard her snapping, before yanking the door open. “The hell you want?” She asked, before you would clear your throat.

“Hey Miss Althea-!” The moment she heard your voice she had softened into that motherly state she always had for you. Not many people in the complex really enjoyed her company, or her son’s, but you always took the time to say hi to her. Not treat her any less inferior because of her blindness.

“Oh hey baby! Come on in, get in here-!” She just beamed, and laughed. Happy to have someone new to talk to. Can get lonely, after all. From many of your conversations with her, when helping her take the groceries to her apartment, her son Wade was often on business trips. Nice to have some company.

Inside was certainly a chaotic mess. You swore someone ran around like a Tasmanian Devil in there. Pictures asque, cushions everywhere, a couch shredded like it was thrown in a blender. You were wondering what the hell happened. Was it a break in? Had you worried sick, before a bark caught your attention.

“PUPPY-!” You couldn’t stop yourself from squealing, as you knelt to the floor. Right next to the dog in her dog bed. All snuggled with plushies of what you guessed were her favorite heros, and seeming to be the one area of the apartment that escaped this fire. Least whoever attacked the home had some kind of morals.

“That ugly thing? That’s ’Mary Puppins’ as the dynamic duo calls them. She that ugly kinda cute. She always knows when you need someone to cuddle, that’s for sure. I ain’t complaining. Nice having company.” Al would explain to you, as you were hypnotized by her cuteness. Had her cradled in your arms, and giving her all the belly scratches.

“She’s perfect.” You cooed, as you gave her fluffy head a kiss. Had her barking happily at your attention. Seemed said barking finally got the attention of the two rascals in the home. A bickering of panic French was held, before you turned your head. As to see what the French was going on.

“Hey-“ A burly man would wave, before seeming to shove the other person into a bedroom. In some kind of mad panic, as if to hide them from you. For some reason.

“Oh, hey. Uh, hi.” You would stand up, Pup in hand, as you registered what you were looking at. He wasn’t the tallest man around, and honestly? Might be even shorter than yourself. Didn’t take away the fact he was built like a truck. Somehow all tucked away behind a torn up wife beater and jeans. Looked like he had been fighting someone with a set of knives. On top of knives. With more knives.

“That’s Logan. My kids new boyfriend.” Al would brush off casually, as she would find herself towards the couch. Just to sit there, and most definitely keep an ear out for the drama to happen now.

“We aren’t….It’s complicated-“ He tried to explain, before said Wade popped his cheery ass out. Having been in such a rush to join the party, he was wearing his shirt backwards. You would argue his boxers to, but a puppy keeps anyone’s attention.

“Oh hey! Peanut, that’s our neighbor. About time you met the sweetheart. Don’t do anything Logany. Or do, kinda a freak. Just saying-“ He would nudge at the shorter man, as said man rolled his eyes.

“Hey Wade-! When did you get this little girl? And uh, the hell happened here?” You were pretty used to Wades insanity at this point, hence why he called you a freak (in that sweet way endearing way) so maybe there was an explanation on all this.

“Thats Mary Puppens. The sweetest shit stain around. We got her from uh….A cousin. Passed away. Terrible terrible. Can’t have her left alone.” Wade would explain, as Logan would walk over. Gave the pup a gentle scratch under her chin that made her shake her leg just right. She clearly loved her new parents dearly.

“And the mess here?” You would raise a brow, before Wade tugged at his collar. That’s when he noticed it was backwards, and kept himself busy with fixing it. Left Logan to have to bite the bullet.

“….Redecorating…..” Logan offered, as you just stared at the two. A brow raised, as you didn’t buy it for a single second. You weren’t stupid. You weren’t going to fall for the ‘put on a hat and jacket and suddenly you can’t make out a superhero from a crowd’ trope. Something suspicious was going on.

“Just be direct, will ya?! If anyone can be trusted it’s gonna be that there sugar.” Al would practically scold the two little dumbasses. Just like a mother would to her so , and his boyfriend, who were trying to dance around a topic.

“Are you two super humans of some kind? You don’t have to tell me more. Just….Dont wanna worry about little Pup here and Al. Ya know?” That seemed to make Logan pause. As if your kindness, and realness, was a shock to have. A welcomed one, but you’ll still get caught off guard if you ate trash and suddenly had a pallet cleanser of lime sherbet shoved in your mouth.

“Do you mean super human as super human, or super human like mutant powers, or super human like experimented on, or super human like as a-“ And Logan promptly smacked the back of Wades head. Treating him like a skipping record. Had you giggle, since now you didn’t have to worry about the violence. Able to comprehend they just don’t feel pain like others.

“Super human is all that needs to be said, bub.” Logan warned him, as he held up his fist. You thought to punch, but you swore the top of his hand was twitching. Not like a muscle spasm. Way too uniformed. As if three veins were bulging. Maybe it was better not to question it.

“Now, why are you even here?” Logan would try his blunt coldness on you, but living next to the likes of Wade doesn’t really phase you. This was a world of super heros and inhumans. Can’t scare you that easy.

“Came to check on Miss Althea. Heard a ruckus, that was louder than normal, so I came to check.” That had Logan scoff. To hear you being so ‘brave’ and coming over to the source of the noise. A admiring ‘so dumb but in a brave way’ admiring.

“He’s still grumpy from the turbulence, if you will-“ Wade would jazz hands, as if knowing things that no one else shouldn’t. He always did act like that. As if he just knew how the world worked better than others. You found it more so endearing than creepy, like others did.

“Oh! New here? Well welcome! Oh, maybe I can show you around? Wade and I know some pretty cool places. Oh! There’s a dog park that’s built for dogs who need more special care than others. We can all go there with Miss Puppins!” You were rambling like Wade, but had the clarity of Logan. A beautiful combination. One that had the two men smitten.

“Fuck yeah we can go to the dog park. Get dressed, Showman, come on-!” And Wade was running off to get changed. The typical attire of hoodie, face mask, glasses. Just layering. You didn’t find his skin disgusting, but given the world’s issues with pandemic it can’t be helped.

“Great, now you got him started again-“ Logan would complain, yet was already grabbing his leather jacket. Complaining, yet clearly willingly excited all the same. Just in his own way.

“Would you like to join us, Miss Althea?” You asked her, which gave her a bit of a surprise. You wanted her to come along? She normally never tagged along on things like this. Yet, you offered. Even though most times she would say no. Not this time.

“Someone needs to make sure you assholes don’t get into more shit.” She smarted off, but was already standing. With the help of Logan, of course. Just in time for Wade to return.

“Come on disabled gang! Let’s go!” He would clap, as Logan just kept rolling his eyes. You yourself were excited, and leading the charge now. All with Miss Puppins happy in your arms. So happy to have a big family to take her on adventures.

Nothing more sweet than a happy pup.

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[slut4hee]

MY HEART, MY MIND, AND MY BODYミ★

{Paring: Sneaky link Heeseung x Blk Fem! Reader

{Synopsis: you know you should ignore his texts, you know you shouldn’t answer when he calls but your heart, your mind, and your body tells you otherwise.

{Genre: smut, fwb relationship, Heeseung is toxic asf, reader is in love with him but he wants to keep their relationship strictly just fucking, good dick game Heeseung.🤭

{Warnings: oral (f receiving) , squirting, Heeseung is kinda a jerk to reader, reader cries, Heeseung manipulates reader by giving her some bomb ass head.

You know you should have been blocked him, ignored his text and moved on with your life because you know you deserve better but it’s not easy when you’re dealing with someone like Lee Heeseung.

You throw your phone on your bed when you read the texts he sent you, the same exact messages he sends you every weekend that you’re starting to grow tired of.

Mr Big Red Flag🙄🚩: You up?

Mr Big Red Flag🙄🚩: Mind if I slide over? I’m so hard right now

Mr Big Red Flag🙄🚩: you ignoring me or sum I can see that you were active 3 mins ago 🤨

You: What is it Hee? I’m not in the mood right now😐

Mr Big Red Flag🙄🚩: Damn baby what’s all the attitude for? I ain’t did nothing wrong to you so chill out🤷‍♂️

You: CHILL OUT? Stg get tf off my phone with that shit, you know exactly why I’m acting out this way😒

“Is he fucking for real right now” you scoff loudly as you turn your phone on dnd for the night and lock it. You get up to go take you a nice warm shower to clear your head and rinse off the shitty day you had. After showering and doing your night routine you decided to grab a snack and binge watch twilight for the 100th time. As you’re laying on your couch watching your movie you hear a knock on your door and it startles you.

“Who the fuck is knocking at my door this late” you question yourself as you hop off the couch to see who has the audacity to disturb your peace, you look out the peephole and you’re met with none other than Heeseung himself standing outside your door. You scoff in annoyance wondering why he decided to show up to your apartment without telling you.

“Y/n c’mon baby, open up the door I know you’re in there your car is parked outside” he waves at your ring camera,

“Heeseung why are you here?”Just do me a favor and go back to your place because I’m not letting you in mines” you roll your eyes walking away from the front door.

You grow frustrated when Heeseung continues to knock at your door, you hurry up and run to open the door when he starts to yell and cause commotion and out of fear of waking your neighbors and getting a noice complaint you let him in.

“Do you seriously have to make so much noise, I have neighbors Heeseung” you glare at him wanting nothing more to punch him in his face more like sit on it, you just noticed how freaking good he looks sporting just a black hoodie and gray sweats with his hood over his head with his bangs slightly visible. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you’re starting to forget just why you’re so angry with him but that’s just how much of an effect he has on you.

“I mean if you would have just opened the damn door when I first knocked, I wouldn’t have had to yell for you to let me in” he says sarcastically looking at you with a knowing look as he steps more into your apartment making his way towards your couch where your movie is paused and your snacks left behind. Your eyes follow him as he plops down on your couch and manspreads, you can feel yourself getting wet at the sight of him and you mentally curse at yourself “you’re supposed to be mad at him Y/n” you tell yourself.

“Why are you standing all the way over there for aren’t you gonna come sit down?” He asks you as he pops some of the popcorn from your bowl in his mouth and gestures you to come to him. Subconsciously you obey him as you make your way to the couch sitting on the other side of it creating some distance between you two.

“Why didn’t you text me back baby?” He gets up and sits next to you and facing his body towards you. You roll your eyes at him as you push him back away from you trying to keep the distance between you and him but he’s not having it.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you acting all pissy?” He asks kinda coldly and clearly annoyed by your actions but who is he to feel frustrated, he’s the reason why you’re acting this way in the first place.

“Oh nothing Heeseung, maybe I’m just tired of you only hitting me up when you want to get in my panties, you never really check up on me it’s always when you’re looking to get your dick wet” you spit angrily at him folding your arms over your chest.

“I mean that’s the only reason why I should be contacting you Y/n baby come on we been through this already, no strings attached and no catching feelings strictly sex” He moves closer to you putting his hand on your thigh caressing it gently, you almost melt into his touch getting lost in the feeling of his hands on your body when you snap back into reality and swat his hand away.

“Heeseung look, I don’t know if I can keep doing this I think we should just end things and go our separate ways” You try to say sternly but instead it comes off shaky and weak. You try to fight back the tears that’s threatening to fall but it hurts so bad, it hurts so bad you fell in love with him, it hurts so bad knowing you compromised yourself for a man that doesn’t see you no more than a booty call and you feel so disgusted with yourself.

“Baby you don’t mean that, tell me you don’t mean that” He says softy while pulling you closer to him and grabbing your hand leaving soft kisses on your knuckles. You let the tears fall even more when he does this because you know deep down he’s only trying to make you feel better because he doesn’t want you to leave him.

“Mama look, I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings and I’m really trying to be better for you but you can’t just leave me like this darling, not after all we’ve been through” he tries to reassure you as he pulls you into his lap, he looks in your eyes as he draws little circles on your back trying to calm you down.

“Do you love me Heeseung and do you care for me like you say you do or is it all fun and games for you” You look at him with a stern yet saddened look and he can’t help but feel just a little ping of guilt in his chest, he doesn’t answer your question but instead pulls you in for a passionate kiss. You know you shouldn’t be kissing him right now instead you should be kicking him out of your apartment and blocking his contact ending it for good but nope you’re falling into his trap once again.

“You know how i feel about you baby girl now just let daddy take care of you okay? Let me kiss it all better” He says pulling away from the kiss and next minute you’re being lifted in his arms as he takes you to your bedroom. He lays you down on the bed softly as he lays his body on top of yours. He goes to attack your lips once again and you feel like you could just cream from the feeling of his soft pillowy lips on yours, he sucks on your bottom lip and starts to prod his tongue for permission to enter and you let him.

“Hee please” you pull away from the kiss begging him for more, you didn’t realize it had been a week since you last fucked, since you had been ignoring him and you mentally pat yourself on the back for even being able to go that long without having him inside you but now it feels as if you are gonna die if you don’t have his cock inside you right this instant.

“Please what princess, talk to daddy tell me what you want” he groans when he feels the heat radiating off your body and his cock is straining against his jeans, he’s so damn hard he’s afraid as soon as he puts it in your tight little hole he’ll explode right then and there.

“P-Please touch me daddy I want you so bad I need to feel you hee” you whine when you feel him play with the hem of your sleep shorts, he pulls the elastic band back and let it snap back making you yelp in pain and pleasure at this point you feel your pussy soaking and begging for attention.

“Oh is that what you want darling? For daddy to touch your little pretty pussy” he hums as he leans down to start leaving kisses and gentle bites on your inner thighs, you clench around nothing and subconsciously buck up your hips when he gets closer to where you need him the most and you whine out of frustration.

“H-Heeseung please touch me, I beg please make me feel good I want you to play with my pussy FUCK” tears start to prickle in your eyes when you feel his hot breath on your clothed core, you squirm and whimper when he starts to rub your clit through your soaked panties.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet for me all for me right nobody else?” he questions as he starts run his fingers through your wet clothed folds causing you to let out a high pitched moan.

“Yes seungie, all for you I don’t want nobody else but you this pussy is all yours always been yours” Heeseung smirks at your words and decides it’s time to stop teasing and give you what you’re begging for so he taps on your legs signaling for you to lift up from the mattress so he can slide your panties off. Once he’s got your panties off he licks a stripe of your pussy and start to suck on your clit.

“Oh Fuck Yes baby just like that, Shit your tongue feels so good baby boy” Heeseung groans at your words and the vibration of the groan sends a jolt of pleasure through your body and you start to comb your fingers through his locks gripping onto them.

“God baby this pussy taste so fucking sweet, can’t get enough of you that’s why I keep coming back to this wet little delicious pussy” Heeseung starts to suck and slurp your pussy like a starved man, you can feel the knot in your stomach threatening to come undone when you feel him tongue fucking your tight hole and swirling his tongue all inside.

“Oh my god daddy I’m gonna cum please let me cum i beg you please let me I been such a good girl” you cry out as you feel your body trembling and your legs shaking uncontrollably after Heeseung delivers a harsh suck to your clit and you come undone on his tongue squirting your juices all over his mouth and on your bedsheets.

“Fuck that was so damn hot baby, naughty little pussy squirting so much for me such a good fucking girl” he comes up to kiss you, you whimper against his lips when you taste the faint taste of your cum on his lips.

“So, do you still wanna leave me?”

A/n: This was inspired by Summer Walker’s song Body, it’s one of my favorite songs by her and for some reason I somehow came up with this idea😩 but hope you guys enjoy this one and please feel free to reblog😁💋

[ruruvxz]

hello! new reader here. i think hanni would write romantic love songs!

“My Dearest Clementine”

Hanni Pham x fem!reader

↳ synopsis: You and your overachieving (ex)girlfriend broke up, but little did you know, she still hasn't gotten over her little clementine. And what's better than food to get into a woman's heart? A good serenade.

↳ cw: foul mouth reader, reader once again is lowkey so mean, breakup, established relationship, comfort, fluff

↳ word count: 2.1k

a/n: omg my first ever anon, im tweaking out, but i agree she definitely would make/cover love songs about reader. and she’d put her whole heart into the performances too… she’s such a cutie pie nfgagggghhhhhh fun fact this was originally a jihyo fic but then i thought really hard, and decided on not making it about her. oh and this is song is clementine by grant perez heheheheh

Skimming through the channels, you really couldn't help but be so agitated by everyone broadcasting this god-awful music show. "God, do these people only watch one thing, and why does it have to be music shows of all things?" You huffed to yourself, whilst aggressively mashing the poor remote. To be honest you'd be the first one to admit that you did enjoy all the award shows and music festivals. Hell, you've even been to your fair share, but do all these channels have to screen the same thing?

It's been the same MAMA award show on almost every channel, even networks that talked about important news, couldn't help but talk about it. Almost as if there wasn't anything else of importance to speak about, making your blood boil even more at the thought.

However, your visceral hatred for music programs wasn't always like this, well, not before at least. You used to adore watching the latest performances, always admiring the work put into performing on stage. It came to the point where you'd buy tickets for venues near your apartment. Despite not always recognizing everyone performing, you'd always sit through every performance, all the while waiting for that one special person to take the stage. Embarrassingly your true intentions were to go watch your then-girlfriend, Hanni, and cheer her on from the sidelines.

That was before, and now, the one who you called your one true love, had just recently shattered your heart into pieces because of work.

All the memories of her loving presence came back flooding into your mind, like how she'd escape practice using Minji's help just to find herself wrapped around your arms. Everything was just too much, the fact she would leave you to save face just enraged you further. "Argh! I am not about to reopen old wounds! Leave me alone you— minx!" You yelled at the screen, before throwing profanity after profanity, like some madwoman trying to stop the voices in her head. At this point, your neighbors were on the verge of sending a wellness check to the apartment.

Your rage was at a tipping point when you saw her gorgeous face popping up on the screen. You held up the remote, ready to shatter the poor television by projectile throwing the remote at the screen. It wasn't until your phone started vibrating erratically that snapped you out of your female rage. Holding your hand out and snatching the phone from the coffee table, you put the speaker to your ear.

"Yeah? Who is this?" You asked curiously, taking a mental note of how the caller's number looked eerily familiar, summing it up to being a coworker.

"Hey, I know we aren't close, but my friend needs a favor." The woman on the other side spoke with a soft and soothing voice, it sounded familiar, though the loud sounds of chanting made it hard to decipher who was on the other end. Thinking for a moment, you took your gaze out from the phone and to the television screen, biting your teeth as you saw New Jeans without Hanni nor Danielle. Sighing in relief you didn't have to see your stunningly aggravating ex-girlfriend.

Still reminiscing about all the times she's carefully and delicately peeled various fruits for you to eat without you even asking. You started to drift off thinking of ways to get her back, before snapping out of your pitiful daydreams, just to respond to the woman on the phone. "Uhm, not to sound round or anything, but who is this? I mean I'd love to do you a favor but—" You rightfully questioned, since this was just such a perplexing thing to ask someone, especially since you had no memory of them.

"Listen I’m…a friend of a friend...?" She spoke unsurely.

"Look, I'm really busy at the moment, I've got a maximum of 30 seconds before the next song starts..." The woman spoke, while you sat there still trying to puzzle together who she was. "It's just, my friend REALLY—" she exasperated the 'really' as much as her voice could. "Wants you to watch the MAMA performance today."

"What... I'm sorry, with all due respect, that's such an odd demand. I must emphasize that I don't know you, and you're not making the effort to state who you are." You commanded at the mic before the call closed, the woman on the other end not wanting to argue with you.

Before you could interrogate me further, the speakers connected to the television erupted loudly with my nose, the screams and praises abundantly clear. And of all the songs it could blast powerfully loud, it was "How Sweet" by NewJeans, but all that you could notice was Danielle throwing the phone to one of the staff before her muscle memory pushed through. (And that Hanni, who was previously sitting perfectly fine with the other members wasn't going to perform the song with them.)

As quickly as you comprehend the song was playing, you put down the volume to a bearable state. Admittedly you still felt a bit creeped out by that call, but then again compared to the phone calls and letters you received from crazed lovers, it wasn't the worst thing you've gotten.

Suddenly a sinister realization hit you, other than working, you didn't do much during your day off, only thing mildly interesting happening today on my day off was this fuck ass show. And if that caller's so-called "friend" wanted you to watch the performances, you'd do just that. So that's how you decided that you'd spend your precious time letting out your toxic rage on these performances in the comfort of your own home.

The time flew so quickly, and most if not all the artists were so enjoyable, but then, the performance you had dreaded the most was about to happen. However, a part of you was quite ecstatic to watch that dreadfully alluring woman fail miserably on stage. (But be honest, Hanni never does, she always looks perfect doing what she loves, not the mention how elegant she sounds when she sings.)

"God Hanni, even till this day you're insufferable. Fuck." You screeched, as the painfully beautiful memories of her flooded your brain, while all you could do was continue to shove chips into my mouth, eating them up with a bittersweet rage. But with your prior knowledge, before the performance started, the artists were given about a 10-minute break to get all the equipment and stage ready. So you were left with your heart racing inside your chest.

After a dreadful wait, you watched as the dim lights began to slowly light the stage with a warm spotlight, and the LED backboard displayed a beautiful orange orchard. It took you aback since Hanni’s most recent solo tracks never mentioned anything about flowers or fruits. You hated to admit that no matter what you still supported her career to the bitter end of your relationship, so every little detail about her was engraved into your mind. But oh hell, if it's a mess up, even better for you right?

"Ah, hello everybody. I hope you've been enjoying the performances today. Everyone is so good!—" Hanni spoke, the crowd roared at her words, and the camera flashed to her coworkers smiling proudly at her words.

"I understand everyone wants my more recent solo songs, but I wanted to showcase a new song. I made it about someone close to me." She continued, while even more mental anguish bubbled up inside your head by how she spoke so softly about the song, and how you assumed she moved on so quickly.

"I hope you all will enjoy this performance." That was the last thing she said before the backtrack began to play. It was a gentle stroke of a guitar before the other members of the band continued to play to the rhythm. The song continued as you leaned closer into the TV, using your remote to turn up the music playing from the speakers.

“Color it gray...” She sang, your heart thumping out of your chest, your mind drifting to the moments leading to your eventual fallout.

“Until I forget you

Like I never met you” The memory of her pleading you to forget about whatever connection you both shared because she didn’t want to drag your career down. Her tears still linger in your mind.

“My dearest, my dearest Clementine” She continued, looking back at the first time she ever spoke so dearly about you, using ‘Clementine’ as a term of endearment because you both cringed at the thought of calling each other ‘baby’ or anything of that sort.

“Color it gray

Until I forget you

Like I never met you”

“My dearest Clementine”

“Throw it away

But close enough to you” Her voice strained by her sorrow.

“Cause although I hate you

I will still fall in love, my Clementine”

“Every time, always”

“No matter how hard I try”

“My Clementine, every time”

You're always on my mind” She ended, fixing her gaze to the camera, looking longingly, as if she was looking at something— no someone through the screen.

You watched in disbelief as she closed up her performance, and walked off the stage, still wearing the matching dragonfruit and orange necklace you bought together. It was a few minutes sitting in utter bewilderment before getting a call on your cellphone. All you could do is weakly pick it up, while still being in complete shock at what you just watched, and without checking the contact you forced yourself to speak up, "Uh..." with a very long pause, you resumed "Hello."

"Clementine!" The voice on the other line spoke loudly, there was no other person who called me that sickening nickname other than the one and only Hanni Pham.

"I thought I blocked you!" You shouted defensively at your phone trying to get this woman to hang up.

"Yeah! But you never blocked Danielle since she never really messaged you, haha!"

"Just leave me alone you freak!" You argued loudly, "I'm hanging up on you Han—" Before you could press, block caller, you heard her scream from the other side.

"No wait!"

"You saw my performance right?"

"Uhm... I wouldn't say I didn't." You awkwardly admitted, still trying to avoid answering her questions.

You sat in awkward silence for a while before she spoke again, "Please, I know you— we weren't the most mature people, but please give me one more chance. I know I shouldn't be asking you on the phone…” You hear a faint sigh before Hanni carries on with her whole speech. “but I don't know any other way to contact you without you running in the opposite direction."

Rolling your eyes behind the phone, you took in a deep breath and analyzed the situation before making a very calm, calculated response. "No! Die in a ditch, Hanni! You dumped me! Then made a song with my nickname and aired it out to everyone!"

"No! No! No wait! Please! Clementine! That's the only way to get through to you! Please Y/N, I wouldn't be begging like this for anyone else."

"Ugh... fine! We'll talk about this later once you're done with work alright? Besides you shouldn't be stressed during award shows, it shows."

"Really?!" She questioned, a bit shocked that you would even give her the time of day.

"Yeah, whatever, don't overwork yourself."

"Thank you so much, I promise I won't, thanks for caring so much, even with everything I’ve done."

"Yeah yeah, you know my place, I'll cook something up, and bring you comfortable clothes, because I'm going to give you a piece of my mind."

"I should've expected that, don't worry, we'll talk, I promise, I’ll listen to whatever you have to say— and I promise I won’t make any more stupid decisions."

"Sure."

"I never break my promises clementine."

"Just— go back to work, Hanni! You're pissing me off, your sweet talk won't work on me this time, I'm gonna beat your ass no matter what."

"It was worth the try." She laughed before hanging up the phone, you swore you were gonna kill her when she came back home. But for now, you forced yourself off the couch and prepared everything for her arrival, after all, she never broke her promises.

[wajjs]

to sum up SOME of the things happening in Argentina:

There's a nation wide manhunt for Loan, a toddler that disappeared in Corrientes (province that has borders with Paraguay, Brasil and Uruguay, three neighboring countries). Foul play has been suspected from day one. The family is believed to be involved by some people. The most popular on going theory is that he was sold to an international pedophile ring dedicated to buying kids from Latin American countries and selling them to people in power in the USA and aligned countries.

The court case connected to Tehuel, a trans young man that disappeared while going to a job opportunity he was offered by a local semi-political figure he was supposed to be able to trust, has been reopened. It is heavily theorized that this political figure, plus his partner and an accomplice, tortured and killed Tehuel for being trans. (There is a strong online theory that they fed him to the pigs after to get rid of his remains. Another popular theory is that they sold him to a human trafficking ring.)

The ex first lady, Fabiola Yañez, and ex president, Alberto Fernández, are in an ongoing legal battle after she was more or less forced to come forward and press charges against him for physical and psychological abuse. A lot of it was perpetrated while he was in office during the pandemic. He kept her locked up, isolated, and publicly blamed her for the things that went wrong during his presidential mandate. Unfortunately the media is having a field day with the pictures of Fabiola beaten up, basically showing off her bruised face and body while zooming in on the injuries. Fabiola had to come out and ask them to please stop showing those pictures as they are effectively re traumatizing her and her son.

Current president, Javier Milei, has effectively altered the employment contract law, taking away things that were meant to protect workers from corporate/employer greed and abuse. He has also effectively closed down the statal, official, ways to get in contact with authorities in case of gender based discrimination and abuse.

Current ruling political party (far right) is pushing forward a denial of facts and attempt at retelling our history by more or less saying that the last military dictatorship wasn't that bad, trying to pardon their sentences (even though the ones in charge of kidnapping, torturing, and disappearing people are living well while serving their sentences). A delegation met with one of the most heinous figure heads of the last dictatorship. A person from said delegation alleged it's old history and that people born during the 90s don't know and don't care about it.

[spookypete-94]

House Shopping with Simon Riley

Little drabble right before shift starts at work. Literally what the title says, but with public (not sure if you can call it that) but... having in a relations in a place you shouldn't?? SimonRileyxFemale!reader

Language, p in v, quickie

but just know NSFW NSFW NSFW!!!

Somehow, you had domesticated Simon "Ghost" Riley. It was baffling to everyone, including The Ghost himself. Not to you, however. Loving him was easy in your eyes. Someone so patient as you finding no chore in the task.

And that's why Simon literally bent over backward for you. Never at your request, though. You needed something? He was there with it shortly after you said it would help. Even when you wouldn't say anything. He noticed the tires on your car getting bald, paying for a new set, and replacing the worn ones.

It was the least he could do for you. So when it came to the next step, moving from a small flat to an actual house, he didn't hesitate. It had to be a place to make into a home. Strong, sound four walls to make sure you were in a safe place while he was away. With a nice view preferably with no close neighbors to be watching you while he couldn't shield you. A place with a kitchen for meals, and a big one at that. The bedroom needed to be large and spacious for your bed. Maybe even a few other rooms to fill later down the road with little bodies split of the image of you both. Only the best for his, Love.

Finally, a realtor had found a house with all the list of his demands. Taking the day, he told you to dress nice, business casual. You had dressed in a white crisp cotton collard shirt with a tight pencil skirt, and him in a white shirt matching with a black tie and slacks.

"Where are we going?"

"Lawyer."

"A lawyer?!" You asked, shocked, looking at him stunned while he backed up the vehicle, his arm draped over onto your seat.

"Lawyer." He confirmed.

"What for?"

"You'll see when we get there, calm down."

Fiddling with the hem of your skirt the entire time of the drive, you continued with the same nervous habit in the lawyer's office. Only now, you were bouncing your knee as well. Simon's hand reaching over and squeezing your thigh, his way of telling you silently to calm down.

The lawyer had sat down at his desk with a stack of paperwork next to him. It was about the third or fourth page in the stack that you understood that this had to do with a large sum of money. You just didn't understand what for. Your suspicion signified from a raised eyebrow to Simon, but all he wore was a knowing smirk.

"Just need you both to sign these pages," the lawyer you didn't even know his proper name said.

"What am I signing?" You asked

"Just trust me," Simon said, leaning forward pen in hand and sliding the paper over to you.

You sighed, frustrated, but his words enough to quell your worry and anxiety.

You tried to glance over the paperwork, still looking for any hints of what you were signing your life away too, but the jarble of the language too much to just get by skimming.

"Did you find one then?" The lawyer asked.

"Still have to look at it, but believe so." Simon answered.

Conveniently, all was said as you were signing the last page, leaving you unable to ask any questions. Simon stood up, hand out to you to grab. Feeling annoyed and left out, you did it anyway.

"Good luck," Mr. Unknown lawyer waved to you both as you left.

"Simon," your eyes burning into the side of his head.

"It's a surprise..." he said while laughing, watching you roll your eyes and groaning at the same time ,"I'm gonna show you."

"Show me?"

"Sit back," he said, giving you a side eye, tired of your questions.

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

The shock you felt was unexplainable when he pulled into a driveway of a home with a FOR SALE sign in the front yard.

"Si-mon," dragging his name out for effect.

"I want us to buy a home together." Blurting it like it had been killing him to hide from you.

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack. Taking money out of a firm that I've had stored away for a while. This is the house closest that fits what I want to give you."

"SI-mon." The excitement you felt when he told he what he had been planning.

"Come on, realtor is waiting," he said, finally opening his car door. Quickly, you joined him, your heels clacking on the cement driveway with joy.

Just as Simon had said, there in the doorway stood a woman who was there to show the house. Holding a clipboard in a green pantsuit and large black rimmed glasses looking all prim and proper with a large smile. Ready to sell this house.

To say the house was stunning was an understatement. Vaulted ceilings, large kitchen with an island in the middle, pantry just off of it. Multiple bathrooms on both floors of the house. Natural light from the windows for days. Your attention was now looking over the bedrooms. Checking out a smaller closet that was between the master bedroom and guest room. The realtor you had learned her name as Peggy, walking around a room in the opposite direction.

What shocked you was Simon pushing you into this small linen closet and shutting the door behind him.

"Simon!" you said his name for the upteenth time today.

"Shhhhhh," he said grinning deviously as he stood before you.

The hot air from his shushing made your skin prickle, but him removing his black tye in a swift motion made your blood run cold. He made a swift loop after lifting your wrists above your head, wrapping it up around a wooden rod to hold hangers just above your head. Then, he pulled it tight as gently as your torso stretched perking your chest to him.

"So hard, not to touch you like this. " his mouth against your cheek and then into your ear. "Skirt looks so nice on you." Gasping, feeling his teeth nip into the pillar on your neck.

"Need ta' test the bones of this house, make sure it's good enough." Coy with a shit eating smile.

His fingers slipping up your skirt, pushing it up at the same time. There he rubbed against your core, making you moan.

"Shhhh," he said while chuckling. "Can't have Peggy hearing us. Worked so hard to find this house, can't ruin her work now." Teasing into your ear while he rubbed circles into your clit. Instead of taking the risk of getting caught, you leaned your head into his chest, masking your sounds there.

Pushing your panties to the side, his fingers rub your bare pussy. What he was doing was testing the waters, checking to see if you were wet enough to take him. Little did he know, your gates of arousal started to flood seeing him slip his tye off so quickly, revealing the collarbone you love to sink your teeth into.

"Dirty girl," he cooed into your ear while plunging a finger in. The stretch felt good but was pulled from you quickly. Your eyes narrowed at him in disappointment, but quickly changed to euphoria as his cock entered you abruptly.

You bit your lip trying to contain your moans, the whole situation hot to you. His large hands gripped your waist and set you on a narrow shelf, you assumed it was for shoes, but it was perfect for this. It allowed him to enter you faster and deeper. The position brought you closer to the brink, his pace perfect.

Your body was starting to catch fire, slipping your legs around him to pull him closer, sending you over the edge. Trying to roll your head back but unable to find anything to rest it on, let Simon see your eyes roll to the back of your head. You loved the feeling of being unable to move at his mercy and will. Thankfully, he was always into pleasing your needs quickly.

His chest lightly thundering with a chuckle watching you come undone.

His rhythm becomes harder, desperate for his own release. Slamming into you faster, you could feel his hot seed fill you making you whimper as your pussy clamped around him greedily taking it all.

"Good girl," he grunted, slowing down. Both of your shallow breaths filled the small space. Simon leaned down and kissed you as he pulled out. Quickly, you pushed your thighs together while he untied you from the rod. Once free, you pushed your panties back over to catch his cum before it dripped down your thighs and onto your black skirt.

"Like that?" He asked, still wearing his devil grin. Clearly, he was proud of the act.

"Very much so," you said helping him tie his tye.

"Hello??" Peggy said, while looking for you both.

It made you cringe a smile, and laugh amongst each other.

Simon tried to deflect the dirty deed you had just done together. Pushing the door open quietly, stating, "This is a perfect place to use, keep my tyes in." A statement that was a double-edge sword. It is a statement that not only you and Simon understood, but clearly, so did Peggy. Her jaw was slack mouth agape, making you both divert your eyes from her.

"It's perfect. We'll take it." Simon's tone almost boastful as he thought about the other places he would rail you in...or on.

Simon Riley Masterlist

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Congratulations on 1k followers! Your works are amazing, and you deserve it!

Can you do SAGAU, Ranpo (60) with Nahida and Furina (if you don't do both, Nahida is okay)? Plus a child!Reader still recovering from the trauma/abuse prior to the appearance of the BSD cast.

Take care, and keep up your good work!

🎉🎉🎉

Thank you :)

If you were not alone

Part V

Bungou stray dogs character: Self-Aware! Platonic! Ranpo Edogawa

Genshin Impact characters: Platonic! Nahida, Platonic! Furina. Aranaras. Melusines. Small Elynas Cameo.

Reader: Child! GN! Reader

Warning: English is my second language. Mentions of child abuse, terrible parents.

🕵🏻 Vanarana was quiet tonight. Araja was letting you two stay in his house. Ranpo was thinking about past few days, while you was trying to get dome sleep. You were whimpering in your sleep from time to time, so Ranpo gave you head pats, to ease your fear just for a moment. Ranpo let out a growl. This forsaken Teyvat did everything, to break you completely.

When almost a year ago, back in their old world, he and others learned, that you were a child, they were worried, that "their manga" will scare you. Oh, how they wish, that the manga's events would be the scariest thing in your life.

Ranpo had great memory. And he despised every memory about meeting with your "parents".

Ranpo hated, how, in the eyes of neighbors, they were a normal family. How no one would suspect, that they abuse their own flesh and blood.

Ranpo hated, how they couldn't just get rid of your parents, without raising a suspicion. Without having police on their back.

Ranpo still recall, how you looked when you first met. Scared, thin child, who were hiding behind the door, trembling, at the sight of adults arguing.

Ranpo still recall, when your parents asked for a tidy sum, when they realized that he and others are ready to do anything for you.

Ranpo had never seen such rotten people before. They literally traded you like a commodity...

Bless Karma for taking you and other kids outside, so you didn't witness that scene.

But Ranpo especially hated, the words, your "parents" said to them, after Fitzgerald paid and all of them were ready to leave with you.

"Last piece of advice. Don't expect anything from [Y/N]. Your job in making something out of them will a waste of time. Just bashed them with a shovel. Fertilizers are always will be useful."

In a two month they would prove their statement, when Chuuya and Verlaine would use their abilities to bury that "parents" alive.

🕵🏻 For a year Ranpo and others were taking care of you. They loved you, spoiled you, were kind towards you. They found you a therapist and support you. Small step by small step, you start recovering.

And Teyvat threw almost all of you progress away.

Nightmares, fear and tears have returned.

And Ranpo hated, that he can't completely take them away from you.

He wasn't powerful in terms of raw strength. He was genius and had Poe's book. You two can hide, you two can escape.

But this dumb religious fanatics were ruthless. They followed you and followed you two.

Sometimes, Ranpo wished, that Ayatsuji was with you two. Fellow detective was as protective over you, as every one of them, and "Another" would be a very useful in this world.

If wishes were horses...

There is no need in wishing for something.

Ranpo knew, that you need to return home as soon as possible. He must protect your little sibling.

🕵🏻 When you two reached Sumeru, Ranpo almost lost all hope. You two were hunted, and, despite having some helpers (whose help saved your lives), it doesn't change the fact, that powerful of this world hated you. They hated a child, Ranpo's little sibling.

They were trying to KILL a CHILD by the order of ANOTHER CHILD!

Ranpo's thought were interrupted by a jingle. A little sphere, that Nahida gave him, glow. Soon he heard Dendro Archon's voice.

"Ranpo? Is everything alright?"

Ranpo didn't recognize his voice, when he spat.

"[Y/N], before going to bed, asked if I can deduct, why they deserved to suffer."

Nahida wasn't answering for some time. When she spoke, her voice was soft.

"Ranpo... They are trying to find meaning in suffering. I think, for all their live, they heard, that bad things happens to bad people. And they knew, that they are good. So why..."

Nahida didn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.

Ranpo was quiet. He pet your head, when you whimpered in your sleep again.

Nahida spoke again.

"I asked Aranaras to help [Y/N] with nightmares... They will enter her dreams any moment now. Before that, let's discuss, what I have learned today about Alice's whereabouts."

🕵🏻 In Sumeru, Ranpo's hope bloomed again. Nahida was really helpful. And, thanks for Aranaras' help, your nightmares disappeared. Maybe, you two could peacefully stay in Sumeru, until Alice's next visit?

Ranpo hopped, that it would be the case.

This hopped disappeared in flames, that destroyed Vanarana.

🕵🏻 Merusea Village reminds you and Ranpo about Vanarana. Place, where some strange creatures lived, who were helping hiding you, and local (former) archon, who was helping them.

Ranpo was really grateful for that. Melusines were guarding you two, making sure, that you two are safe. Ranpo heard, how one melusine mentioned, that "father" also wanted to keep you safe.

Furina wasn't a master fighter, but something in her made you feel less afraid. She console you and bring sweets for you and Ranpo.

🕵🏻 Ranpo and Furina were eating their cakes, while you were playing with melusines. Ranpo can't help, but smile through tears. You looked happy. Furina spoke.

"I am glad, that [Y/N] are happy again. Even for a moment..."

Furina's gaze harden.

"And people are asking why I wish, that this creature on the Ivory Throne just rot away. For "The Holiness" sake, people lose every bit of empathy and mind."

Ranpo nodded.

"When we found a way to our world... Our friends might visit this place again. To have a small "talk" about kindness and kids..."

Furina nodded in return.

"Don't forget to punch someone of the Holy Guard for me."

🕵🏻 In a few days, Neuvillette found you. Dragon was ready to destroy the village. Melusines, he was found of. Furina, whose sacrifice saved Fontaine. Ranpo, who wanted to protect you. And you. A simple child, who already had enough violence in your life.

But, some power hold him down.

You were hiding. You wanted to protect Ranpo, Furina and melusines. You wanted to save Nahida and Aranaras.

You wanted to go home.

Your emotions and powers reached their peak.

And The Great Beast Elynas gave you all his powers, so you could reach Nahida's and Aranaras' prisons.

Portal was open.

______

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa expect, that he will find you and Ranpo tied up in some criminals' lair.

Not in their barn, after small earthquake and surrounded by a bunch of vegetable things, faun people, kid with white hair and girl dressed in blue and with a top hat.

🕵🏻 There is a lot of work to do. Nahida, Aranaras, Furina and Melusines heed help adjusting to new world. You need even more support and kindness. But Ranpo wasn't afraid of it. He will help you. He will make sure, that his little sibling will never cry or suffer ever again.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[seakicker]

☆ My Next-Door Neighbor is an Annoying Older Woman Who Constantly Bothers Me

☆ between: college au!scaramouche x milf!reader

☆ synopsis: scaramouche insists he doesn’t want to fuck the milf living next door, but all his friends think he doth protest too much.

☆ word count: 10.5K words

☆ a/n: like with my venti x milf!reader fic over on ao3, this is supposed to give a sort of doujinshi vibe, hence the embarrassing title and the lunacy of some ideas like milf!reader going outside in a super sheer shirt. hopefully you feel the doujinshi vibe i was going for as i have a lot of fun trying to replicate the style, themes, and flow of doujinshis using only text!

☆ contents: fem + plus-sized reader (reader is explicitly described as chubby, busty, and taller than scaramouche), age gap obviously; scaramouche is a senior in college and reader is in her early 40s, degradation, a couple insults (such as scaramouche calling you a hag/loose/etc.), degradation, exhibitionism (scaramouche fucks you in front of a glass sliding door), sexual frustration, and unprotected sex + scaramouche pulls out

also posted to ao3 with the same title and under the same username!

Scaramouche has a problem.

Well, a problem slightly more irritating than the approximately nine hundred other problems he deals with on a daily basis. These issues include, but are not limited to, the consistent problems he has with the hot water heater in his apartment, his obnoxious group project teammate Ajax who insisted upon being the group’s leader despite his complete and utter lack of intellect, his annoying circle of friends that always seem to find ways to poke their noses into Scaramouche’s business, his frustratingly-dull history professor that always goes off on tangents completely unrelated to the class’ subject matter… and so on and so forth. It’s one issue after another; there’s always something when it comes to Scaramouche.

A matter more pressing than all of those other nine hundred issues put together, however, comes in the form of his next-door neighbor— you.

You’re a divorced woman in your early forties who lives by herself, works during the daytime while Scaramouche is on campus, and always seems to leave and return home at the same times he does. He moved in next door to you a few months ago at the start of his junior year, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to get to know him beyond the curt responses he gives you when you ask how he’s doing or what he did over the weekend. His coldness towards you doesn’t make too much sense— have you somehow offended him without knowing? You like to consider yourself a good neighbor: you don’t party (like a woman your age would ever do such a thing), you don’t blast loud music long into the night (or at all), you take good care of your things and avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche or your other neighbors, and you’re very, very tidy. When you’re in the mood to brag a little, you’ll say that you have the nicest balcony in the entire apartment complex.

…Avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche, huh? He’d beg to differ.

If Scaramouche has nine hundred problems in his life, then maybe it’d be more accurate to claim that you’re the cause of at least seven hundred of those problems rather than claiming that you’re one single, self-contained issue separate from all of those other problems. Maybe it’s the way you insist upon butting your way into his life and, in what must be your way of expressing it, “taking care” of him that irritates him more than anything else. Really, if he had to sum up your advances in one word, he’d have to go with aggravating.

At first, he bitterly wondered if you’re just some senile old hag using him as a replacement for your son, who’s surely moved out by now given your age. All you are is a woman looking to cure her empty nest syndrome by doting on someone her son’s age according to Scaramouche— he viewed your kindness as underhanded and delusional because he can take care of himself, you know. He’s an adult man living on his own; he knows how to navigate the trials and tribulations of young adulthood without some old lady insisting upon knocking on his door and gifting him home-cooked meals, bringing up his mail from the first-floor mailroom, or helping him with chores where you can. It’s not like Scaramouche would ever let you into his apartment, but that hasn’t stopped you from finding ways to help outside by sweeping outside his front door or washing the outside of his front window while he’s not home.

Okay, maybe it’s a little creepy to wash your neighbor’s windows without him asking you to help out, but it’s not like he’s going to do it. You would know— you had once waited a week to see if he’d clean up a spilled drink stain on the walkway in front of his door. As you expected, he never got around to it, so you happily cleaned it up on his behalf. Cleaning up for him doesn’t really put you out of your way either— whenever you sweep his doorway, it’s because you were already outside tidying up in front of your place; why not help out your neighbor in the process?

When you bring him meals you prepared yourself, it’s out of the goodness of your heart and because you can’t help but worry about a college boy’s diet— fast food, pizza, frozen microwave meals, and instant ramen don’t have all the nutrients a hardworking man needs. When you bring him his mail, it’s because he has a tendency to forget about it until his mailbox is, quite literally, overflowing. Whereas you check your mailbox every single day, Scaramouche seems to forget about his until the end of the week, which is certainly no way to live— what if he misses an important bill or notice? As a result, you took it upon yourself to check his mailbox for him whenever you go to retrieve your own mail.

Again, maybe it’s a little creepy to gather your neighbor’s mail, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone, right? You certainly don’t root through his mail or open any of it. Even though Scaramouche rolls his eyes and mumbles a halfhearted little “thanks” every time you hand him his mail, he doesn’t really seem to mind. Despite his initial reluctance to accept any of it, he still eats the food you prepare for him if the empty containers he returns to you a few days later are any indication of that fact. You figure maybe he’s just a little shy or tired from his long day on campus— it does your heart well to know that he’s working so very hard.

On the flip side of things, Scaramouche considers your… activities a total inconvenience. He’ll admit that your meals taste very good— though he’d never say it to your face— but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to you or thinking that he owes you something even though you’ve told him multiple times that your favors don’t need any payback. You’re just happy to cook for someone other than yourself, you had told him once, confirming Scaramouche’s suspicion that you live alone. It’s not his fault you’re bored enough to make food for someone you barely know, so do you have to rope him into your wiles? He already has groceries and though he doesn’t really know how to cook, what’s wrong with having a bowl of cereal for dinner? It’s none of your business, is it?

Between your constant insistence on involving yourself in his life and the fact that he’s never seen anyone else leaving or entering your apartment, Scaramouche was able to correctly guess that you live alone… a realization that can’t help but annoy him. He figures that if you had someone, anyone else in your life like a spouse or another child living with you, you’d stop pestering him and stick to involving yourself in the lives of your family instead of your neighbor.

Would a pet do? Should he find some stray kitten and leave it on your doorstep? Is that what it’d take to make you mind your own business?

“Hey, Kuni, tell me about your little neighbor lady again,” Venti coos, accidentally knocking over his—thankfully— empty beer bottle when he leans forward to grab his phone. He’s drunk, but that barely makes a difference; he’d still make this request sober.

Glowering around the mouth of his own bottle, Scaramouche rolls his eyes in Venti’s general direction. “Why? If you want to know that hag so badly, go talk to her yourself.”

Venti busts out laughing, an action that his drunken body clearly can’t handle seeing as he falls sideways into Aether’s shoulder, making the latter grimace in response. Venti’s already a handful sober, but when he drinks… it takes the entire friend group to get him home and/or in bed safely. “Don’t threaten me with that, ‘cuz I really will do it— I’ll go steal your hot older girlfriend.”

Glaring up at him from his spot on the rug, Scaramouche has half a mind to shove that empty beer bottle into Venti’s eye for suggesting such a thing. Hey, wait a minute— why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor when this is his damn apartment?

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he barks, turning to direct his glare at Kazuha too when he hears him chuckle.

“The more you deny it, the less convincing you are— you talk about her all the time, so I’m inclined to believe you really are dating,” Venti chirps, reaching for a bottle of beer that is most certainly not his.

“That’s mine,” Aether protests, watching as Venti takes a sip from his bottle anyways.

“Oops, my bad.” He doesn’t sound sincere.

“Well… get me another whenever you stand up.”

Venti waves his hand dismissively before redirecting his attention back to the more important matter at hand— Scaramouche’s complete and utter inability to just admit that he has the hots for his hot MILF of a neighbor and that any protest otherwise is a feeble attempt at hiding the truth.

“They say you’re attracted to things that make you mad,” Venti says. “…Cuteness aggression. Yeah. I saw a video about it once.”

“That’s not what cuteness aggression is, and ‘they’ say that you attract the things you fear,” Kazuha corrects him from his spot in the nearby armchair— again, why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor?— before he goes to take another hit off his blunt.

Venti repeats what Kazuha said in a nasally voice in an attempt to mock him, but the gesture only makes Kazuha chuckle again. It’ll be hard to draw any response more eloquent than a single laugh or a sigh out of him for the rest of the night— it’s a very, very stark difference from how he usually is.

“Why the fuck do I ever invite any of you over here?” Scaramouche sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. He doesn’t even really like the taste; it’s something Venti found on sale and decided to bring over, but Scaramouche has decided it’s better than spending his Friday night sober. Besides, it’ll take at least four more of these to deal with the impending conversation that he’s been trying so hard to pivot away from since Venti first brought it up.

“Because we’re best friends forever, next question. Why do you deny how much you wanna fuck your sexy neighbor, Kuni?” Venti asks again, pouting when Aether snatches the bottle Venti stole from him. “It’s super obvious. Xiao and Heizou agree with me, and I’m not just saying that because they’re not here tonight and can’t contest me on it. It’s true.”

Kazuha nods, and Aether simply shrugs. Christ alive, do they all think the same thing?

“And why on Earth do I— in theory— want to fuck her? She’s probably loose or something,” Scaramouche argues.

Venti busts out laughing again.

“It’s the opposite, really,” he starts, glancing between Aether and Kazuha when neither of them laugh along with him. “What, have you guys seriously never been with an older lady? They’re the best; the reason I know Kuni wants to get with that lady next door is because I got with the lady next door to me a couple months ago. It takes one to know one, or something. Trust me, Kuni, I know what you’re going through and we are seriously gonna get through this together.” Why is he making it sound like a relative died or something?

“They’re experienced,” Venti sighs longingly, blindly reaching out again for the bottle Aether’s holding, who moves it further away and out of Venti’s reach. “They feel really, really good. They actually know what they’re doing… sometimes the girls—and guys, mind you, I’ve gotten with plenty of both— our age clearly don’t know they’re supposed to be doing, but getting with somebody’s mom…”

“You’re gross!” Aether gasps, though his pink cheeks tell a different story.

“Not as gross as the guy who’s told us the same story about seeing his neighbor lady braless like four times now,” Venti replies, glancing over at Scaramouche with a grin. “Really left an impression on you, huh, Kuni?”

Just like that, Scaramouche finds himself instantly reminded of, well, the time he saw you braless first thing in the morning. A few months ago on some random Saturday morning, Scaramouche was out smoking a cigarette on his porch when you stepped outside to water the plants you keep on your balcony. There were so many of them: a small tomato plant, a pot overflowing with basil that you took to trimming after you finished watering everything, a couple of hanging baskets field with flowers, and a few other vegetable plants and potted succulents. More glaringly obvious than the abundance of plants occupying your balcony was your complete and utter shamelessness— even a quick glance in your direction was enough to draw Scaramouche’s attention to the distractingly sheer fabric of your white camisole.

It’s not like Scaramouche was actively staring at your tits— really, he wasn’t, he swears— because anyone would notice something that egregious. The low, low sweep of your camisole around your ample bust, your nipples beading up against the thin fabric, the constant fucking movement of the top as you shifted and bent over to water the plants sitting on the ground, moved, and walked, all of it. He complained to his friends about your complete and utter shamelessness— What kind of woman steps outside practically naked? he spat, much to the amusement of Venti, who had said that wearing a thin shirt does not, in fact, make one naked.

Worst of all, you had actually fucking caught Scaramouche staring, an action that made you grin wickedly and run your hands down the sides of your soft, plump body as if to try and draw his eyes down along with your hands. Instead, Scaramouche had only whipped his head to the other side, busying himself with tapping the ash off his cigarette as if it were the most important task he’d ever complete in his life. Jesus Christ, he was only staring because he couldn’t believe you’d be so shameless as to wear something like that outside, not because he was genuinely aroused by how low your camisole sat on your chest, how big your tits are, how soft they look…

He thinks he shuddered then, and he insisted to his friends that it was because of a sudden chilly breeze and absolutely nothing more. It was either that or because he was just so shocked by your display that a shiver went down his spine— he can’t even remember the exact reason he gave anymore.

Either way, none of them really believed him.

“Ah, he seems distracted,” Kazuha notes simply, raising a hand to point at Scaramouche before grinning. His words pull Scaramouche from his little daydream, and he groans at the realization that, yes, he spaced out remembering yet another instance of your abhorrent shamelessness and perversion.

“Spaced out thinking about cute MILF boobs, I get it,” Venti affirms, nodding. “Nobody gets that more than me. Not only that, but you’ve also, uh, ‘complained’ to us about seeing her in her swimsuit. Really, Kuni, it’s like you’re biding your time and waiting for her to take her clothes off so you can tell us about it.”

…That’s a story for another time. Scaramouche has had enough of thinking about you for one day; it’s bad enough that you brought him his mail today just mere moments before Venti, Kazuha, and Aether arrived to hang out— what if they saw you?— but to be reminded of the image of your tits underneath that pathetic excuse for a top…

He shakes his head and takes a long, long sip from his bottle.

“And they’re so soft, Kuni,” Venti says, slumping over further into Aether for support. “They feel like absolutely nothing else. I feel like firmness or perkiness or whatever is really, really overrated— the softness of a cute MILF’s boobs is unrivaled!”

“Can you not say things like that right into my ear?” Aether mumbles bashfully, making Venti laugh.

“Why? Am I gonna put the mental image of MILF boobs in your brain, too? Are we gonna become an entire friend group full of MILF chasers? That’d be hilarous. I already know about Xiao’s little crush on his English professor.”

Jesus, Scaramouche has got to steer this conversation somewhere else or he’ll go mad. “Anyways,” he beings, “Where is that pizza you ordered ages ago?”

“I thought Kazuha was taking care of it,” Aether remarks, glancing over at him. Kazuha goes to reply, but nothing comes out— yep, he’s gone for the night. He won’t be able to get out any more than four words max until morning.

As if the universe heard their request, the doorbell rings to signify the arrival of dinner. Before Scaramouche can go to pull himself up off the floor—he really should make Venti move; it’s his couch in his apartment— Venti’s already in the process of skipping towards the door. Aether takes the opportunity to kick his feet up over the other couch cushion, making Scaramouche wonder if the three of them formed some secret pact to ensure that he stays on the floor the entire evening.

However, what stands on the other side of the door is not, in fact, the pizza delivery boy. It’s you, aluminum foil-covered glass casserole dish in hand, leading Scaramouche to believe that while the universe did hear their request for food, the devil answered by sending you to his doorstep while he has three of his friends over.

“Oh! You’re not the pizza guy,” Venti beams, putting on his best ‘polite’ voice possible. Scaramouche groans and looks over towards his other two friends just so he doesn’t accidentally make eye contact with you, but neither Aether nor Kazuha look back at him. They’re looking at you.

Christ, he’ll never live this down. Not only do they know who you are, they now know what you look like.

“I’m not,” you giggle. “I live next door; I bring food to Scaramouche sometimes whenever I get a little too excited in the kitchen and make too much. I can’t eat the leftovers fast enough before they go bad, and I would hate to waste food, you know?”

“You can call him Kuni,” Venti offers. “We all do. It’s less of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

Scaramouche decides that Venti will be leaving his apartment in a body bag tonight.

His cheeks burn with equal parts humiliation and anger, and the realization that his friends’ teasing is only about to get worse now that they know who you are and what you look like more than motivates Scaramouche to devise a plot to kill the three of them.

After introducing yourself to Venti, he smiles and replies that “the pleasure is all his” when you tell him it’s nice to meet some of Scaramouche’s friends. Venti has half a mind to invite you inside for a moment, but he decides that’d be unnecessary— he figures he’s already done more than enough to inspire Scaramouche into action. If Scaramouche won’t act on his feelings himself, then maybe a little shove from his friends will help him along.

“That’s sweet of you!” Venti praises, taking the dish from your hands. “I’m glad Kuni’s eating properly these days. One time, he told us that the only thing he survived off of during finals week was a sleeve of Saltines and some peanut butter. You’re so kind, miss.”

You giggle sheepishly, a sound that Scaramouche would like to claim grates his ears. Miss? Can’t Venti see that you’re, well, old? “Well, I’m glad that he has such kind friends to support him. You all take care, okay? You too, Scara— Kuni!” You call out past Venti’s shoulder, making both Aether and Kazuha chuckle.

After bidding farewell to the four in what has to be the most mortifying moment of Scaramouche’s entire life, you leave, allowing Venti to close the door behind you and make his way back to the others. “Those boobs are huge,” he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. “If I got suffocated between those, I would die a fully satisfied man.”

“Then go die,” Scaramouche mutters in agreement, cheeks still burning with humiliation. Why does the universe insist upon tormenting him so?

Eyeing the dish in Venti’s hands, Aether pipes up too “She cooks for you? Kuni, you have it so good.”

Scaramouche is amazed that, after all this time, his friends still find it in them to be jealous of him despite all of his attempts at framing you as annoying, invasive, and overbearing. Can’t they see that you’re doing this on purpose?! Scaramouche has half a mind to wonder if you’re psychic— what other explanation is there for your obnoxiously perfect timing? He asks about food and suddenly you appear on his doorstep, dish in hand as if you had heard him through the walls. There’s no way they’re that thin, are they?

Venti moves to set the dish down on the kitchen countertop before turning around to look Scaramouche square in the eye. “Kuni, I’m saying this because I respect you as my longtime friend,” he asserts, tone and gaze both deathly serious in a way that’s genuinely almost out of character for someone as flippant and carefree as Venti. “But you better fuck that lady the first chance you get because, if you don’t, I’m taking her for myself.” That should do it.

Scowling in response, Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs bitterly. “Why would I stop you? I don’t care what you do with her. For the last fucking time, I’m not into her.” Despite his words, Scaramouche can’t deny that there’s something… unsettling about the idea of Venti getting with you. Does he really want to watch his friend take four A.M. booty calls in order to fuck the woman living right next door to him? Can Scaramouche truly stomach the idea of his friend fucking the brains out of someone just a few walls away from where he lives? It’s hard to put his finger on why, but something about Venti getting with Scaramouche’s neighbor, despite his insistence that there truly is nothing between the two of them, really, really irks him.

Well, it’s probably just because a lot of Venti’s behavior tends to irritate Scaramouche in the first place, right? Yeah, it’s probably just that. He doesn’t need to hear every last gritty detail of his friend’s sexual trysts.

That characteristically smug grin of his finds its way back to Venti’s face as he reaches over Aether’s shoulder and snatches his beer bottle again. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. How about we forget the pizza and eat what she brought over?”

“Oh, I see now,” Kazuha interjects after having been silent for the past twenty minutes. He turns his phone around to show Scaramouche, Venti, and Aether the check-out screen on the pizza chain’s website. “It seems I failed actually submit the order; it was still waiting for me to pay.”

Scaramouche doesn’t have a hangover the next morning, a blessing he owes to the fact that he only ended up drinking two beers last night. He probably would’ve consumed more if he had the chance to, but Venti blew through the rest of the box quicker than the other three could try to stop him. It took both Kazuha and Aether supporting Venti’s hardly-conscious body to get him down the stairs to the parking lot so they can drive him home— there’s no way Venti would be able to safely get himself home amidst such an awful hangover.

As he pokes through his apartment scooping up empty beer bottles and stained paper plates to toss into a trash bag, the glass casserole dish sitting out on the kitchen counter catches Scaramouche’s eye. Save for a few scraps shoved into the rounded corners of the pan, it’s practically been picked clean— the four boys tore through it easily with Venti, Kazuha, and Aether all fawning over just how good a home-cooked meal tastes after months of campus cafeteria food, fast food, and instant ramen. Venti mentioned that there’s just something about a MILF’s cooking that makes it so much better, leading to a conversation about how, in Venti’s educated opinion, older women just do everything better: sex, cooking, cleaning, caretaking, all of it.

Scaramouche scoffs at the memory. “She’s nothing special,” he mutters to himself, still failing to understand Venti’s obsession with somebody he’s never even met until last night. Scaramouche is the one who’s actually been living next door to her for months now— as his friends know by now, he has plenty more to say about her than Venti does.

Shouldn’t he be the one to comment on things like the size of your bust, the softness of your legs, the plumpness of your ass and belly, and the flavor of your cooking? He’s the one who’s actually seen you lounging in tiny string bikinis by the apartment complex’s pool, watering the plants out on your balcony in a pair of shorts that certainly break publicly decency laws, and retrieving your mail in a shirt so thin he can make out the little bumps of your nipples up against the fabric.

“Christ, what am I thinking?” Scaramouche stops himself and second-guesses whether or not he’s actually hungover. There’s no way his sober mind would drift to thoughts of you, right? Clearly something must be wrong with him— he blames Venti for putting all these thoughts in his head with his never-ending discussion of what makes older women so utterly sexy.

He’s then reminded of what Venti told him right before they all sat down to eat your cooking: that if Scaramouche won’t hurry up and fuck his neighbor, Venti will do it for him. Even now, the idea still bothers him for reasons he just can’t quite put his finger on— Venti’s been with tons and tons of people; why does he want Scaramouche’s neighbor too? Can’t Venti see how awkward that would be?

Setting the trash bag down on the floor, Scaramouche takes to the sink to wash out the casserole dish you brought over for them last night. His mind concocts disgustingly vivid images of you as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn piece of dried cheese, and maybe he’d be shocked by how little effort he’s putting into warding those thoughts away if he weren’t so utterly immersed in them. His mind conjures up the image of you in that tiny black bikini he saw you wearing by the pool while he was out smoking on his balcony— he remembers the little number being so small that you had to readjust it every single time you simply sat up or lied down because every last motion was enough to threaten a nipslip. It makes him wonder if you dress like that on purpose or because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that clothes and swimsuits you used to wear still fit you despite clear evidence otherwise— are you actively vying for the attention of any man who’ll give it to you, or are you brainless enough to throw something on without caring about how poorly or not it fits?

It’s probably a mix of both; you’re just that shameless.

Scaramouche grits his teeth at the mental image of you straddling him while adorned in that tiny little bikini that seems to only get tinier and tinier the longer he allows his imagination to run wild. Of all the fucking things to imagine you doing…

He pictures what you’d look like with your thick, plump thighs enveloping either side of his hips as you run your hands up and down your ample chest and soft stomach. God, he can see it all now: the little bumps of your nipples beading up against the thin fabric of your swimsuit, the soft hang of your tummy spilling over the tiny, flimsy string keeping your bottoms secured around your wide hips, the way your tits would bounce as you ride him…

“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The clump of cheese he’d been scraping at finally separates from the pan, and he realizes that if he wants to rid you from his mind for good, he should take matters into his own hands before Venti does.

No, wait, this has nothing to do with Venti— this isn’t about staking claim over you before any of his friends can, this is solely about him finding ways to release the grip you have on him as if you’re some kind of wicked succubus. Scaramouche glances downwards after setting the dish aside to dry and, much to his chagrin, finds that the mere thought of you was enough to fucking get him hard. The eager press of his cock against the confines of his briefs moritifies him solely because of the very reason why he’s like this in the first place; how the fuck did the thought of you in a bikini so tiny your areolas peek around the sides reduce him to such a state? He’d like to believe that he’s only this hard because it’s been a while since he’s jerked off, but that would be an excuse less believable than any of the ones he’s ever given his friends.

He knows that he’s too dignified to jerk off to the thought of you— if he’s feeling horny, then surely he can find things more deserving of his attention than some hag next door. He refuses to give you that kind of satisfaction (despite the fact that you’d never even know unless he told you, so how could you be smug about it?), so he decides that an ice-cold shower is in order before venturing out to settle things with you.

After a shower so cold Scaramouche swears he saw his fingers begin to turn purple, he dries off, gets dressed in something other than the clothes he fell asleep in last night, grabs your clean casserole dish, and leaves to go to the one place he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself stepping foot in— your apartment. If this is what it takes to sever the connection between you and his mind…

God, this is going to be annoying, Scaramouche thinks as he knocks on your door using his foot, casserole dish supported safely by both of his hands. He feels the need to steel himself because he just knows you’ll answer the door in something sheer, skimpy, or some combination of the two and he needs to be ready for that.

Why? Are you hoping for that to happen, Kuni? Venti’s voice whispers from the back of Scaramouche’s mind.

He really is losing it.

“Good morning— oh, Kuni! This is a surprise,” you greet him upon opening the door, flashing him a smile so bright it nearly makes him cringe. Can you spare him the pleasantries so he can just get to the point?

Fucking Venti— why teach her that nickname? Turning his head to look at a faraway bird instead of you, Scaramouche scoffs. “I need to talk to you.” Straight to the point, emotionless, and rude, it’s all so in-character for your neighbor that you can’t help but giggle.

You grin wider. “Of course. Come in; I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

Scaramouche waits until you’re a good few steps ahead of him before following you inside, glancing around the living room of your apartment as he makes his way to the kitchen table. Your apartment’s clean, impeccably so at that— every book on your bookshelf faces the same direction, the blanket draped over the back of your couch doesn’t have a single crease, and he can’t see even an ounce of dust on any inch of your tables and countertops.

He snorts a little. Rather than viewing the cleanliness as impressive or inspiring, he bitterly interprets it as a testament to your overabundance of free time and lack of other hobbies or pastimes.

“I’m not sure how strong you like your coffee, so I’ll just make it how I normally do,” you pipe up from the kitchen, pulling Scaramouche away from scrutinizing the titles of the books on your shelf. Restless Summer Nights? The Devil’s Mistress? They all sound like bargain bin erotica novels.

It was a mistake to direct his attention away from your novels and to you instead, he figures, because only now does he get a look at what you’re wearing— if one could even call that clothing. You’re dressed in something he wants to call a workout outfit, but anyone leaving the house in an outfit like that surely has goals other than simply exercising— they want to attract attention. A sports bra that sits so low on your chest that a single bounce on an exercise ball would expose you combines with a pair of spandex leggings so tight they reveal the lines of your panties to comprise your “workout outfit,” and to say that Scaramouche is mortified would be an understatement. He can’t help but find the combination of your manner of dress and your collection of novels completely pathetic.

And despite his apparent disgust… he’s been staring at you long enough to pick up the most minute details about your outfit. The indifferent passerby likely wouldn’t notice your pantylines— a certain amount of staring is required to actually notice them; they’re really not obvious from a quick glance. Actually, why can’t he stop looking at you? He writes it off as a simple morbid curiosity at how someone can be so completely and utterly shameless— one could almost liken his sick, cynical fascination with your ample curves and soft body to rubbernecking.

Scaramouche instead stares down into the cup of coffee you’ve set in front of him like it’s the most fascinating object in the entire world. He’s half-inclined to just close his eyes entirely, seeing as the slightest glimpse of your bust still occupies the uppermost part of his peripheral eyesight when you sit down in the chair opposite of him.

“So,” you start, sliding a porcelain dish with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a saucer of creamer his way. “What can I help you with? It’s rare for you to talk to me first, Kuni.”

He adds “drop that nickname” to his mental list of topics to bring up with you. Scaramouche plucks a few sugar cubes from the bowl before him and drops them into his coffee before absentmindedly stirring the liquid with a serving spoon.

“Last night,” He clears his throat. “Why did you come over to talk to V— to my friends?” Why are you always in my business? he really wants to ask, but he feels like you’ll start crying if he presses you too firmly.

And that’d just be obnoxious.

You giggle. “That makes it sound like I came over on purpose because I knew you had people over, and that’s not true. Haven’t we been in the habit of food delivery and acceptance for months now?” Scaramouche’s eyes follow yours to the squeaky-clean casserole dish he placed on your counter.

“I’m glad your friends seemed to enjoy the food just as much as you do,” you add sweetly, pursing your lips and blowing on your coffee to help it cool down.

“It was humiliating,” Scaramouche counters, a statement that prompts you to look up from your coffee and make eye contact with him. “They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t stop fucking talking about you after you left.”

Wait, that’s not the point here, is it? Surely Scaramouche’s main complaint isn’t that Venti practically sweet-talked you right into his bed, it’s that Scaramouche is tired of you invading his business and his space, right? He doesn’t care about Venti’s comments about your soft tits or your wide hips, he doesn’t care about Aether’s bashful confession that he exclusively jerks off to older women, he doesn’t care that he has competition because there’s nothing to compete over and he’s really, actually, truly angry that you always find a way to worm your way into his days and his mind and his free time and his wet dreams and his—

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you reply simply, sipping your coffee and smiling around the rim of the cup. “They’re such nice boys. I’m glad you have such sweet friends, dear.”

What’s warmer: the tips of Scaramouche’s ears or his untouched cup of coffee?

“That’s not— what? That’s not the point I’m making and you know that,” he grimaces, clearing his throat again. “My friends shouldn’t have to put up with a shameless old hag the way I have to.”

You set your cup down. “That’s not very nice. I look good for my age— that charming boy down at the corner mart always asks for my ID whenever I pick up some wine!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “That’s his job. Anyways, I’m telling you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, is that all? Of course I can do that for you.” Your reply comes without a single skipped beat.

“I mean it, that means don’t touch my mail and— what?” Wait, there’s no way you’re making this this easy. A shameless, conniving, lustful, lewd seductress of a woman like you agreeing to just… fuck off at the first request? Scaramouche doesn’t buy it— this is just another phase of your plan to throw him off guard and pull the rug out from under him so you can sink your claws deeper and deeper into him.

“I like cooking for you and cleaning for you, and I was very happy to meet your friends yesterday, but if you want me to stop, of course I will,” you explain. “I wonder who’ll help me eat my leftovers now… your friend from last night gave me his phone number; does he like potato soup? I’m making that tonight.”

Scaramouche almost, almost feels a shiver tear down his spine. He’s starting to believe that Venti’s just as much an antagonist in this situation as you are.

“Why the fuck did you accept his number? Delete it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring over at you. His coffee’s surely gone cold by now, but that’s alright— he was never much of a coffee drinker anyways.

You shrug, a sly smile forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so sweet I didn’t want to say no… it’d give me someone new to talk to, if nothing else.” Why do you need to talk to Venti when he barely knows you and I’m right fucking here?

“It’s not like you talk to me much despite all my best efforts, Kuni,” you offer him the subtlest of pouts, an action that would look out of place on the face of a woman your age if you weren’t so… if you weren’t so…

Forget it, he’s not saying anything about you that could be interpreted as a compliment. “…Especially now that you and I have agreed to leave each other alone.”

Oh, Scaramouche doesn’t like this feeling. He hates feeling like a situation has spun out of his control, and that’s, unfortunately, exactly what he feels is happening here. You’ve agreed to his terms and you’ve promised to stay out of his way, so why does he feel so… angry?

Yeah, you must have some underhanded motive here. Why else would you be making this so… easy? That’s not like you at all— he was expecting you to fan your eyelashes, pout your lips, push your tits forward, and whimper that you’re sorry and that you’d love to keep talking to him, so will he please give you a second chance?

I’ll do anything, he was sure you’d say.

You clear your throat. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to discuss now? If not, I’ll get back to my yoga. It’s good to be active, right?”

What the hell? You’re ending the conversation? No way, no how— this ends on Scaramouche’s terms, not yours. Who do you think you are?

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Staying out of my business means staying away from Venti— from any of my friends. Don’t talk to them, don’t text them, don’t— I don’t know. Don’t be around them.”

You smile a little wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Kuni.”

He scoffs, staring you directly in the eye as if to challenge you. “Seriously? Shit joke.”

Of all the adjectives you could have picked to describe him… “It’s just that the thought of you getting with Venti is nauseating, alright?”

You hum. “And why him specifically, hm? You had other friends over last night— are they single?” Jesus Christ, what is this, an interrogation? And where the hell are these sorts of questions coming from— did you already send Venti an invitation to hook up?

Sneering so hard his nose scrunches up, Scaramouche can’t help but feel appalled. “Did you decide I’m not good enough or something? Who do you think you are?”

You go silent.

Scaramouche, somehow, goes even quieter than silent when the weight of his words finally sets in. There it is— the culmination of your grand plan to humiliate, embarrass, and utterly demean him in your own home. You had this outcome planned from the start, didn’t you?

“I didn’t say that,” you stammer, attempting to correct yourself. “Why do you think I’ve been vying for your attention all this time? Of course I like you, Kuni.”

God, how you piss him off. Who do you think you are— some bashful schoolgirl confessing to her first crush?

“I know that I’m just an old woman and that you could certainly find a cute, young, perky college girl whenever you’d like to, but if you’d ever like me…”

Of course Scaramouche could get someone his age from one of his classes— he doesn’t need to settle for some loose old hag— and yet… the thought of you getting with anyone else, Venti or not, pisses him off in a way he can’t quite describe. Maybe he views himself as some kind of hero protecting everyone else from your shamelessness, maybe he views himself as the only one worthy of your attention as the one who has to put up with you the most, maybe he views you as someone actually, genuinely worth being with…

He sits up a little straighter. “You have no idea how obnoxious you are,” he mutters. “Taking up my time and attention even when you’re not around.”

“What a forked tongue,” you reply, leaning forward and, much to Scaramouche’s chagrin, pushing your breasts together with your hands. “You know that’s why I like you, right? Mean boys have always been my favorite— ever since high school.”

“You’re not worth the time,” he spits. So fucking annoying. So fucking shameless. What kind of woman your age behaves this way, anyway? So obnoxious, so pathetic, so intoxicating, so impossible-to-keep-out-of-his-mind—

“Venti sure seems to think I am,” you offer with a smug, self-satisfied smile as you rise from your seat. Hooking your thumbs up under the straps of your sports bra, you quickly snap the elastic fabric back against your shoulders to give your tits a little bounce, an action that, of course, does not go unnoticed. Slapping his hands down flat against the perfectly-ironed lacy tablecloth covering your dining room table and standing up so quickly he nearly knocks his knees against the table’s hardwood underside, Scaramouche laughs.

What a time to finally, finally accept that he has the hots for his neighbor— the same neighbor who’s supposedly the cause of so many of his bad days and sour moods. You’ve prompted many a disdainful mutter from Scaramouche after catching a glimpse of you through your drawn curtains, you’ve been the subject of many a snide comment made in the presence of his friends, and, most frustratingly of all, you’ve inspired countless, countless inappropriate thoughts that he cannot believe you’ve been the subject of.

And all it took was one of his friends hitting on you for him to realize that.

“Constantly flaunting a body like this,” he chides in a way that he wants to come off as insulting and condescending rather than sadistically flattering, but the little grin you offer in response gives him reason to believe you interpreted it as the latter. Seriously?

“Other boys your age seem to enjoy the flaunting,” you counter, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your spandex leggings. As if to tease the act of pulling them all the way down your legs, you flip the fabric of your waistband over its seam to expose the majority of your soft lower belly.

Anger burns hot behind his pale cheeks. “Is this some kind of pathetic hobby of yours? Fucking guys half your age?”

“I like to consider it a lifestyle,” you reply, shimmying your leggings further and further down your thick thighs until your thong’s completely exposed. A black lace thong— how becoming of a nymphomanic like yourself. “I’m fine with trading experience for virility and stamina; do you know how many men my age finish in thirty seconds and call it there because they’re ‘just so tired’? College boys either go until they can’t hold themselves upright or until they have nothing left to pump into me.”

There’s that vulgar nature that’s both irritated and (subconciously) aroused him for months. He wants to believe that your disgusting nature doesn’t make his cock twitch, but the time for pretending has clearly passed. You don’t believe he finds you ugly or unappealing and neither does he anymore.

“And do you find this… lifestyle fulfilling?” Scaramouche challenges, grimacing at the pressure building in the frontside of his tight jeans.

You laugh. “Is that your way of saying you don’t? Are you a virgin, sweetheart?”

“Of course not. Just because some of us don’t fuck everything with two legs and a pulse doesn’t mean we’re virgins.” His clumsy escapades are none of your business— his high school girlfriend and that guy from the concert Venti dragged him to over the summer don’t concern you.

Bending forward to push your leggings down to your knees, you gaze up at Scaramouche through your eyelashes and giggle. “Don’t make it sound like I don’t savor every last cock or strap I ride. You could put every last one of them in front of me and I’d be able to tell you who they belong to with my eyes shut.”

Venti mentioned something about experience, didn’t he? What a sanitized way of calling older women complete and total whores.

The inferiority complex in Scaramouche wants to prove that he’s the best thing a whore like you will ever experience, that he can make you feel better than any of the other bumbling college morons he probably knows can, and that you’ll give up your ways of fucking everyone that looks at you in order to devote yourself to him and him alone. That’d be some nice payback for all the pain and humiliation you’ve subjected him to these past couple of months, right?

No, he has a better idea.

“If you want to show yourself off that badly,” Scaramouche huffs, doing his damndest to ignore the nearly-painful throbbing in his jeans. “Then I’m sure you’d be fine with doing it in front of that glass door, right?”

With your hands still bunched in the fabric of your leggings, you look back at the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony and bite your lip. It’s not likely anyone would actually see you— you and Scaramouche live on the third floor— but it’s still a possibility and an exciting thought nonetheless. Maybe you could give that nice redheaded quarterback boy you fucked a few months ago a nice show; he lives just across the parking lot in the building parallel to yours.

“Now who’s the deviant one? I’ve never fucked anywhere more public than a nightclub’s bathroom stall,” you tease, finally pushing your leggings all the way down and off your legs. He doesn’t believe you, but Christ, those thighs of yours look soft…

You accept his offer nonetheless and make your way over to the balcony door, your thong riding high on your wide hips and your hardened nipples pressing into the flimsy fabric of your pathetic excuse of a sports bra. “You’re helping me wipe off all the fingerprints afterwards,” you scold, inviting him over with a wiggle of your hips and a glance back over your shoulder.

Now, rationally, Scaramouche would never propose the idea of fucking in a place as public as right in front of an apartment complex parking lot. He’s never considered himself an exhbitionist and he’s always been somewhat obsessed with his image, and people who care about their image generally don’t have sex in the potential presence of others. Additionally, there’s probably something to be said about him potentially getting caught fucking the same woman he’s spent the better half of this past year complaining about, but the current irrational, horny, angry Scaramouche wouldn’t listen to better judgement or rationality anyways.

The relief that comes with unbuttoning his jeans and giving his almost painfully-hard cock room to breathe is so euphoric he can’t help but sigh, the throbbing in his crotch more aggravating than any pounding headache he’s ever experienced after an evening drinking with his friends.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he laughs, incredulous. “To think the hag living next door to me is the reason I’m like this.” Jamming the weight of his bulge into the plumpness of your soft ass, Scaramouche seizes hold of your hips in both of his hands and gives the fat of your love handles a painful squeeze just to hear you suck the air in through your teeth.

“I thought you’d never come around, you know,” you breathe, beyond eager at the prospect of finally, finally getting to fuck the neighbor boy you’ve been actively working at breaking for months upon months now. A guy this mean, this arrogant, and this demeaning doesn’t come around that often, especially when so many of the guys you get with take the polite route by calling you “ma’am” and complimenting you over and over again— which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but cruel has always satisfied you in ways that kind cannot.

The height difference between the two of you means that Scaramouche has to stand up a little straighter than he normally does in order to press his hips against yours, a realization that’s only slightly humiliating. Granted, it could never compare to how humiliating it was for you to show up at his apartment in front of all his friends.

God, does it feel good to put you in your place.

“Spread,” Scaramouche mutters, knocking one of his feet against both of your ankles. He doesn’t tell you that he needs you to spread your legs so your hips will lower a bit, allowing him to reach them a little more easily since you’re a bit taller than he is.

You would tease him for skipping the foreplay and just jamming himself right into you, but you know that you’ve been plenty wet enough ever since your discussion with him first wandered to sex and masturbation. Well, that, and if you had to wait another minute to get the cock you’ve been so desperate for for so long now, you very well may go crazy. It’s taken months, but you can already tell that it was all so, so worth it.

Running his knuckles down the center of your thong, Scaramouche relishes in the smug satisfaction that comes with realizing that you’re wet. It’s equal parts arousing and equal parts pathetic— just how desperate are you for any cock you can get your hands on?

“You’ve already kept me waiting for months,” you say with a pout cast back at him from over your shoulder. “Why make me wait even longer when I’m right here?”

“Shameless and impatient,” he remarks with a frustrated huff. “Can’t you do something good with your life or yourself for once and just be quiet?”

As tempting as it is to make a teasing quip in return to only further rile up your angsty neighbor boy, a frenzied giggle is the only sound you can muster up when you feel the firm press of a cock against your clothed pussy. Even through your flimsy thong, you can tell that he’s hard, which is a reward in its own right. It’s what you’ve wanted to achieve since the very first time he caught you half-naked watering plants on your balcony— is it so wrong for you to want to rile up the cutie next door?

Scaramouche roughly yanks your thong down to hang around your lower thighs, leaving you entirely on display for him when you follow suit by tugging your sports bra up to your collarbone. The cool, smooth glass against your bare tits is an unfamiliar sensation, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome one— especially when you remember that anyone could look up from across the parking lot and get an eyeful of your bare tits squished up against the glass door.

“I wish I could watch you sink it in for the first time,” you hum, reaching down between your legs to part the outer lips of your cunt for him a little wider. “In front of a mirror or something maybe. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re the spitting image of the romantic type.” There’s no way you consider him the romantic type, is there? He’s not going to hold your hands and whisper in your ear about how cute you are, you know.

Damn it, you’ve got him actually wanting you more than he’s ever wanted you before— this makes all his filthy fantasies about taking you bent over your kitchen counter or being underneath you while you ride him into oblivion look like a cheap, budget porno from a video rental store. His desire has always been real—albeit subconscious, sure—but it feels so much more genuine now that it’s been realized.

“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” he mumbles in a brief moment of humiliation, biting into his bottom lip as he finally, finally sinks the full length of his cock into you.

Jesus Christ, if there’s anything Venti’s ever been right about, it’s how good a mature pussy feels. You’re soaked all the way down to your inner thighs, you’re so warm Scaramouche nearly feels his knees give out from underneath him, and you squeeze him so well he can feel your pussy gripping the sensitive underside of his tip.

“Why not? I can invite your friend next time,” you propose, squealing with delight when Scaramouche slaps a hand down against the side of your ass. “Venti, right? It’d feel so good to have my ass used while you—“

“Just shut up,” he hisses bitterly, glaring at you hard enough to give himself a stress headache. “Don’t talk about other guys right now. Especially not ones I know.”

“You’re right, it’s rude to talk about other men when I have such a good one right here with me already,” you feign sympathy, pushing your hips back flat against the front of his thighs. “Oh, Kuni.”

There’s that damn nickname again. As much as he hates the idea of you using it to tease him or fluster him, he can’t deny the way his dick twitches whenever you coo it in that soft, sultry tone of yours. It’s like you were custom-made to gobble men up or something— just how many of his classmates have you fucked?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. Not when he knows he can establish himself as the best of the whole damn lot of them. Not when he knows that he gets the privilege of seeing you every single day and nobody, nobody else does. Not when he’s seen your cute nipples peeking at him through that tiny, flimsy pajama top he caught you in all those months ago. Not when he gets to peruse on over to your apartment whenever he wants because you’re right fucking there and nobody, nobody is physically closer to you than he is.

Jesus, this is all starting to sound like some kind of crush.

“How’s that?” Scaramouche taunts, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of skin smacking on skin almost drowns out his voice. He’d like to claim that this sort of pace is supposed to be punishing, and he’d be right if he were to say that, but he wants it hard and rough just as much as you surely do. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to because he knows there’s nothing he’s wanted to do more than fuck your brains out for months upon months now.

You don’t answer him, too preoccupied with relishing in the feeling of his cock pounding into you with everything he’s got. How befitting of Scaramouche to fuck you like he’s angry at you— if he could even claim to be mad anymore. The combined sensations of his hips hammering against yours, his fingernails digging into your soft, plump love handles, and his balls slapping against your ass on each thrust are all far too overwhelming to even attempt a reply.

“Seriously? You run your mouth for ages and now you shut up when I ask you a question?” You’re doing this on purpose— Jesus, you’re insatiable.

Your back arches when Scaramouche digs the tip of his cock into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, a broken whine leaving your lips instead when you attempt to reply with a dirty quip. He laughs when he realizes what’s just happened— that’s certainly one way to get you to shut that filthy mouth of yours.

“I hope somebody’s watching you, actually,” he admits despite all the jealousy even a single mention of his friend stirred up in him. “That way they can see you’re not worth their time because you don’t value yourself whatsoever. Why would anyone want someone who’s happy to just give themselves away like this and get fucked in a place so public?”

Maybe that’s just a weird, roundabout way of saying I want someone to watch me fuck you so they know a whore like you has been whipped into shape and that you only want me now. Who’s to say?

“You don’t care about getting caught yourself?” You finally pipe up with a grin.

Scaramouche snorts. “Getting caught with the likes of you? I’d transfer universities.”

You pout. “Would I still get to see you?”

For whatever reason, the question catches him off guard. How many times does he need to remind you that you’re not his girlfriend, that you’re not some sweetheart with an innocent crush, that you’re just his fucking neighbor who just so happens to have a hot body and just so happens to feel so, so good around him like this and just so happens to be the subject of his wet dreams and fantasies and—

He’s only able to spit out one word. “Obnoxious.”

His hands reclaim a firm grasp on your ample hips before he takes to fucking into you at a whole new angle— one that’ll surely hit that spot that got you to shut the fuck up moments ago. Your hands clamor for anything you could possibly grab onto to steel yourself, but there’s nothing except for the cool, flat glass beneath your palms.

“Kuni,” you rasp in a broken voice, beyond impressed with his ability to have found your most sensitive spot and target it specially. Call it sheer dumb luck or a testament to how perfectly compatible your bodies are, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let up on it until you’ve collapsed— maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace from your partners being the ones to collapse after an evening with you.

With the task of finding something to hold onto having proven fruitless, you instead slip a hand back between your legs to rub at your clit. Scaramouche snickers at your apparent desperation to orgasm, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“What a pathetic display,” he remarks, pounding into you so quickly you can barely register the full length of his cock before he’s pulling it all the way out of you again. With your legs trembling and your knees buckling, the possibility of actually collapsing underneath him is becoming increasingly likely— these wild, frenzied thrusts of his prove exactly why you’re so into college guys.

Looking down from the fuzzy reflection of your face in the glass, Scaramouche watches each sink of his cock into your tight, dripping cunt with all the intensity and attention of a virgin. It may as well be his first time— you feel so fucking good he’s starting to lose his train of thought. You take him all the way to the hilt on each thrust so easily that he’d absolutely call you a common whore if he were able to form even a single word.

Despite his inability to form a coherent sentence, Scaramouche finds that he has just enough rationality left to pull out mere seconds before coming all over the swell of your ass, his cock twitching in his hand as he bites back moans. Here he is, coming all over the soft ass of his obnoxious older neighbor lady after spending so many months convincing his friends that he does not, in fact, want to fuck her.

You laugh breathlessly, the hand between your legs still rubbing frantic circles over your clit as you attempt to reach your own orgasm as well. “What’s wrong with coming inside? I’m hurt.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. That’d be irresponsible.

“Well, that’s alright,” you chirp, standing upright and turning around to face him. “I can always wring it out of you myself, right?”

“You’re insatiable,” he replies, inching backwards towards the couch as you step forward in time with his footsteps.

“Pot, kettle. You’re still hard, Kuni.”

With the realization that he’ll need some kind of excuse to offer his friends when he inevitably returns to a slew of unread messages a few hours from now, he falls backwards onto the couch just before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

Well, not that any of them have ever believed any vague, half-baked excuse Scaramouche gives.

[99k4manii]

𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖣𝗂𝗅𝖿 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋！

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌：age gap! suggestive! Kid megumi! !NOT proof read. rushed part 2 will be wayy better i promise !!

Pt 1.

Toji noticed a big Utah moving van parking right infont of the house next door, it was rare to have new neighbors due to the houses being expensive and most avoided neighborhoods like this, the neighborhood wasnt particularly bad, there just werent much near by markets and stores which made it hard to go shopping often without spending alot gas money, the past year or so the house has been completely empty. He wondered who had moved in..

you just moved into this new neighborhood fresh out of the college dorms you were only 23 years old, and you had a lot going for you, so you were kind of excited especially since you seen the finest man next door, and ouuu he was sexyy.. let's not forget he was built real nice and good... you were all giggles till you seen a school bus stop right infront of his house a little raven-haired boy running on the porch right past him and headed into the house your face dropped. well that's what you get you thought you was gonna get a lil sum sum and he ended up having a kid a probably a wife! you dropped a box in the house and then you came back out to the truck sighing at all the heavy luggage you'd have to carry in.

Toji noticed you struggling to carry a heavy box into your home and he hopped off the porch and walked over to your part of the sidewalk ''ay, y'need some help with that?'' a smirk sneaking up on his lips seeing your cute reaction.. and boy were you pretty, the way your boobs sat perfectly in your little outfit and the darker part of your ass showed from the bottom of your little bodysuit, oh he was hooked..

''ahh thank you for your help!'' you clapped your hands together after placing the last box inside your house ''anytime pretty,'' you smiled at the nickname ''oh by the way my names [Y/n] !"he smirked at you. ''m'names toji.. and its no problem just lemme know if ya need anything alright?'' ''gotcha!'' you smiled watching him walk down and off the porch. you smiled to yourself ouuu he was just sooo finee

later that day you knocked on his door with some sweets you made for a thank you, and you seen the same little raven-haired boy from earlier ''hi sweetie is toji home?" he looked up at you with wide eyes ''woah your a real pretty lady..'' he said giving you the most adorable look ''awww thank you sweetie thats so sweet of you!'' you smiled at his adorable little face ''oh daddy's in the kitchen! ill go get him!'' "okay!'' you smiled at him watching his little legs daddle away and to come back with his father ''hey, doll what whatcha doing here? did ya need more help with ya’stuff?'' ''no, no! i just wanted to give you these'' you held out the sweets with a smile ''come in'' he held the door open guiding you to come in.

you and toji started talking and getting to know each other and you told him about how you were fresh out of nursing school and you found out hes divorced.. you feel bad that youre a bit happy about it but all that feeling bad came to nothing when you could tell toji was flirting, his and your flirting went on and on till about 3 weeks. One say he asked you wanted to go to a park with him and "megumi" of course you said yes because not only did you like toji but you loved his son he was so sweet and kind! to you not so much toji.. you guys made it to the park and toji was being really touchy and got little angry when he seen other men staring at you in your cute dress showing all of your nice curves in all honesty he’s no better than any other man when it came to you. While you and megumi had fun while not so much toji, he was to busy trying to make sure you guys seemed like a couple, he really didn’t want no one trying to hit on you..

At around 8, When you guys got home, while megumi was sleeping in the backseat you were about to get out the car but toji stopped you.. “toji what’s the matter-“ he grabbed your chin and cut you off giving you a deep kiss while sneaking a hand up your thigh along your dress, you put your arms around his neck and starting leaning into the kiss till you saw megumi moving alot in his sleep you broke the kiss, breathing heavily ''fuckk toji.. i didnt know you were such a freak~ megumi's right there ya know?" You laughed a little while he smirked leading his hand up and down your thigh ''he'll be fine, when the brats asleep he wont wake up for a couple hours'' you smiled and looked at him tilting your head ''lets atleast bring him to bed before we start then'' you said with a smile looking back at Megumi's cute chubby face..

this was actually so rushed its insane i was just putting stuff together atp.. (hopefully) part 2 will but much better !!

[cherry-pop-elf]

Flowers For You

‘Poof’ Periwinkle Fairywinkle-Cosma x Reader

Authors note: @clownsgirlghost You asked, Gimmie yo life force/jk

Sum: You’ve always been utterly obsessed with folklore. Fae, Crypteds, what have you. You respected them, the traditions, even when people made fun of you for it. You didn’t care. You loved them, and it seem’s like the gesture has been returned.

Warnings: Bullying, religious metaphor’s, paganism, assholes to witches, my attempt at accurate folk lore, and a shitty attempt because I only know so much from a show I don’t have access to

“There goes that weirdo again. Stay away, might get cursed.” You would listen to them gossip. Never seeming to actually try and keep it subtle. You didn’t care, you were living your life. Well, trying to. It eats at you after a while. No matter how strong you were.

You would just sigh, as you just wanted to return home already. Had been such a long day. Shopping was a pain, and you just wanted to go to bed. Buying dumb adult things like food and toiletries. Also some things to leave as offerings. You saw a beautiful bundle of periwinkle flowers.

A fairy circle had appeared in your backyard, and you wanted to show your respect to the Fae that use them. You kept your distance, and respected the ring of mushrooms. Even put rocks around it, to try and help protect it. It’s a small gesture, but you hope they know your intent. They should, unlike your neighbors.

Swore they could hear the jingling of your keys, as they were quick to look over their fences to face you. Trying hard to not be seen, as they knew what they were doing was wrong. Actually it was because they genuinely thought you were a weirdo that might throw mud at them.

“Just ignore them. Just ignore them. The richer the man, the dumber the man.” You would plead to yourself, wishing you never inherited this old house. Right in a Richie rich neighborhood. Hey, a free house is a free house. Especially in his economy. Not like you’ll ever be in a position to move.

You would sort out your groceries, and be back in your zen. Feeling calm with yourself. Taking out the flowers, gently trimming off the dead parts, just fluffing it up really. Wanting it to look its best, as if offering it to a physical person. Gave you calm, and comfort.

With the flowers made you would go out to your backyard. Right to the fairy ring. Rocks all around it, as to try and keep it safe when you mowed the lawn. To give it respect, and honor, with letting it have its own space. Even as far as to gently toss the flowers into the middle, as to not break its barrier.

“Witchcraft I tell you. Keep your animals inside. Might be used for some kind of satanic sacrifice.” You would over hear, as the rattle of collars echoed from behind the fence. Made your heart ache. You weren’t doing anything wrong, this was your practice. What makes it different from what they do?

You tried to fight your tears, as you turned your back to the ring. Just as you did, however, you heard a strange noise. You swore it sounded as if a rattle of chimes went off, while hitting a pillow case. It was such an other worldly sound, you just had to turn to look at it.

“Really? You really jumped into the nearest fairy circle you could?” “I WANTED TO GO TO FAIRY WORLD-!” “YOU COULD HAVE ENDED UP AT THE BOTTOM OF A LAKE!” “I CAN SWIM-!” On and on the shouting went between your neighbor Dev Dimmadome, and a strange floating man. Left you in shock, as they argued. Not quite aware of your existence. Left you to study them.

“And further more-! Hey! Move your sneakers-!” The bright, purply man, shouted. Fluttering wings were quick to zoom down, and scoop up the flowers. Dusting them off from the trampling, and seeming to make them bloom back to life. As if they were never harmed.

“Look at that! Periwinkles! I love these flowers! Yes I’m bias, because they are my colors, but still! I remember back when I was just a little basketball. Back when me and Timmy…..” The man seemed to trail off, as those glittering eyes seemed to sparkle for other reasons.

“Uh, Peri…..You can cry about your brother later, we got company-“ Dev would tug at the floating man’s pant leg, drawing his attention to you. Those pure eyes just seeming to stare through your soul, and through your heart. Taking in every mortal detail you offered, and seeming to be taken aback. As if watching a sunset for the first time.

Didn’t last long, before he seemed to panic. The flowers tossed high in the air, leaving Dev to try and catch them off. Seemed like Dev can care for other living creatures. Who knew! As if you could focus on that, as a massive purple book appeared. With the worlds ‘Da Rulz’ on the cover.

“WHAT DO I DO?! FAIRES CANT BE SEEN LIKE THIS! OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO-“ The poor, floating, man was in a panic. Not knowing what to do, while Dev would just casually walk up to you. Bundle of flowers still in hand, as he lower his shades a bit. Not all the way, but enough for you two to share eye contact.

You were one of the few people that ever gave a shit about him, and actually had human interaction with him. Not just his robot baby sitters, or just smoozed on him for his money. You didn’t have much, but you gave him something no one else did. Time. Time for him.

“Hey Witchy-“ A nickname he gave you, but like many friends it was a term of endearment and mockery at everyone else compared to actually an insult to you. Just a kid being a kid, and it was nice to have. Someone to just talk to you.

“So ya know how you always talked about fairies and folk lore and like Bigfoot and stuff? Yeah. That’s a fairy. Neat, huh?” He seemed to try and brag to you, as the poor fairy in question was still a panic mess. Just wanting to try and find an answer to his worries.

“Promise not to tell anyone?” He asked, as you slowly nodded. “Peri! Chill! Witchy is cool! Probs left the flowers even. You left the flowers, right? Course you did.” He more so said to himself.

That seemed to calm the fairy down, and make the book vanish. Ever so gently he would flutter over to you, as Dev returned the flowers to him. The bundle brought to his pointed nose, as he inhaled them. Lost in a memory, from childhood days. Days when he was with him.

“For me? Really? Like really really?” He asked, as his face was a brilliant pink. Was accompanied by intense fluttering of his wings. Much like how a person would wave their hands around when over stimulated, but in the positive way.

“I mean….Yeah. Yeah actually.” You nodded, as that was the intent. Never in your wildest dreams did you think something like this would happen. To very literally give flowers to a fairy, and to have the gesture enjoyed. Must be some kind of divine intervention.

“….Guess you would follow under a magical being identification, so I don’t need to worry…” Sounded more like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, but at least he was calming down.

“Um….Do you two want to come inside?” You offered. Probably a bad idea to invite a fae inside, and definitely a good idea that Dev used your nickname then your real name. The number one rule is to never offer a fae your real name. But…..Never have you seen a fae design like him in stories. Maybe things were a little different. Especially since he seemed to be in some kind of connection with Dev.

“Hell yeah. I do NOT want to be around my old man right now. Come on Peri-!” And Dev ran inside, leaving you two alone. For him to keep fluttering those pale purple lashes, as he was just adoring the flowers you had bought. Just stuffing his face in them. Lost in the textures and smells.

“Thank you…..I….They remind me of my childhood. Miss those days…So I uh. Thanks, Witchy.” He smiled to you, as you blushed all the same. Not as intense as him, because you were a human, but it was returned.

“You don’t have anything good in here! Peri! I wish that Witchy’s house was full of food! The good kind! You know what I’m talking about!” You heard Dev shout. Ever the blunt one.

Before you could make a remark, you saw Peri raise the strange cane of his. That same magical sound went off, and it seemed to blow out of your open door way. This bloom of smoke, that vanished as quickly as it arrived.

You would hurry inside, more so to see if Dev was ok, to be met with your home filled with food. Cabinets full and organized. Fridge open with sodas and juices. Pantry with chips and canned goods. It was like you suddenly were a grocery store with the levels of goods.

“There we go-!” Dev said, as he sat on the counter. Just munching away on a bag of cookies. Just left you speechless. What do you even say to something like this? Such pure, literal, magic.

“Guess that’s one way to say thanks for the flowers.” Peri would snort, as he giggled into his flowers. As if just a bashful school girl. Left Dev eye rolling, but was contented to be anywhere but his place. A mansion doesn’t bring the warmth your home did.

“Told you Witchy was cool. Didn’t do that weird back breaking dance, no screaming, no kidnapping. Witchy is so mellow. That’s what I like.” Dev would use you to brag to this fairy companion. Had you worry a moment.

“Are you like, owned by Dev? Did he kidnap YOU? Are you trapped?” You worried, given what Dev said. Along with just how true the statements are. To steal them for power, and wishes. Which was just what Dev did.

“Yeah. I mean-! Not like that-! Like-Oh uh. I’ll start from the top-“ He was blushing even more now, somehow. Suppose your genuine worry touched him. Along with the fact that even though he literally stuffed your home with food you were worried about him. Not a single drop of green in your tongue.

“I’m a Fairy God Parent. We are, basically, step in parents for kids who are….Well….” He gave a nudge at you, as Dev didn’t seem to be paying attention much. Messing with his phone. Most likely to plan some kind of tech aligned experiment for his future mischief.

“I get it-“ You nodded, as it was clear now. A parental figure, that can help kids be kids. With wishes to their hearts, and rules in place to keep both parties safe. Made you understand the situation alot more. You were wondering why Dev seemed alot happier lately. And a lot less of an asshole. Something you marked up as out bursts from his troubled home, which you couldn’t blame him for lashing out about.

“Guess since you are definitely classified as a magical being, I’ll be seeing you a lot more now. Dev hates being at home. Yeah it’s got all the things money can buy, but if it filled the damn void I wouldn’t be here. Huh?” He snorted, as you nodded as well. Along with a laugh, as it was certainly an experience to hear a fairy swear.

“Will you two stop flirting and get over here? Hazel sent me a text. Something about burritos? Violent mood swings?” Dev more so muttered, as Peri seemed red alert now.

“WE CAN NO HAVE ANOTHER BABY! I swear if Dad is pregnant, again-“ That had you both staring at him, before Dev’s phone dinged. “Never mind, it was just gas.”

Peri gave a sigh of relief, but you both were gawking at him still. That’s when he snapped his fingers, before trying to fix his hair. Get himself back in fairy order, instead of being a blushing mess of anxiety and nerves.

“It’s….Oh it’s a long story-“ Peri huffed, as his cane seemed to turn into a hand mirror of sorts. Floating in the air, so he could properly fix his large curl. Along with sneak a few flowers into it.

“I’ve got time…..” You offered, as you grabbed a drink from the fridge. Just finally able to enjoy some time now. Just chilling with people, and not so worried about food right now. Able to actually savor it all.

“Well….It all started with a wish. Before you ask, that’s gonna be a massive staple to most of my insane stories I have-“ Peri warned, as even Dev seemed interested now. Chaos from wishes? Don’t mind if he do! Even held the carton of cookies to you, as you were both ready for the gossip now.

It honestly seemed to make Peri happy, and do that flutter of his eyelashes again. Those flowers back to being snuggled into his face, and his cane turning into a photograph. A picture with a green haired fairy, a pinker haired one, a bundle of purple cloth in their hands, and a little kid. With buck teeth, and a pink hat.

“It all started, with an average kid, who made a wish for my parents to have a baby…”

[charliehoennam]

A/N: fulfilling @j23r23's request. Subtle reminder that my ask open again! Tried my best to sum it up, hope you enjoy <3

Summary: Reader's a pub owner and fianceè to The Alfie Solomons. Turns out she's a bit more than just that.

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warnings: Language, Adopted!reader, not proof-read, I think that's it??

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Most people would have been nervous if Alfie Solomons strolled on into their area of business without any notice.

Everywhere he went, his most trusted and strongest lackies followed behind for protection. They were intimidating on their own, but Alfie's dominant presence was enough to make anyone mentally retrace their days, wondering if they'd made their weekly payment for protection or if they'd gotten in trouble with any of Alfie's clan.

You, on the other hand, were not like the others. You remained calm, cool and collected the minute he wandered into your pub.

Despite it being young to the busy street and small in comparison to the neighboring establishments, you had heard many things about Alfie. Only rumors, however, mostly from your drunk clients at the Glass & Barrel.

Some would argue that he was full of himself. Others would make remarks on how he was a form of savior with the jobs he'd given them. A few despised him with all their might for the beating he'd ordered onto them. Judging by what you knew of these specific clients, you knew it hadn't been for nothing.

It was early morning when you hear the doorbell chime. You could hear him mumble on as he looked around at the pub, but couldn't quite make out what he said.

You knew right away who he was. The hat and the cane were dead giveaways, but it was his demeanor that made it clear. And what he did for a living did not sway you in the slightest.

You had expected his visit for a while. It was just a matter of time that he showed up to explain how his method of security works. It was simple. You pay and his boys protect. Extra pay meant he'd place a strong lad in the pub to chase away any unwelcome, rowdy guests.

The first thing Alfie noticed about you when he walked in and sat down at the bar was how unfazed you seemed. He knew at the moment that you were a fearless woman and he admired that.

He assumed you had to be that way, given the dubious characters that milked the bottles from your shelves and the barrels in the basement.

However, there was still a sweetness in you that teased his curiosity. It made him yearn for a woman in such a foreign way that he hadn't felt since he was a young lad.

Since then, his visits became more and more often until you realized he was stopping by about two or three times a week. The funniest thing about his visits was that he never drank anything other than water. It was quite comical.

He enjoyed charming his way into your heart. Every visit consisted of laughter, taste-tests of his finest brews, playful flirting and him trying to convince you to go out on a date with him.

You resisted. Alfie knew that you wouldn't be easy. He could barely imagine just how many drunken fellas have tried their luck with you. The gun you hid under the bar wasn't for nothing.

In fact, your reservation made you all the more special.

He respected your pace and, every time you turned down his invitations, he didn't press you.

"I respect that, love. But a man's gotta try, right? Maybe one day I'll get lucky and you'll say yes."

And he was right. One day, he did get lucky indeed and you finally accepted one of his relentless invitations. However, you requested that it'd be during the day.

You told him it was because the pub made more money at night, but really, you didn't want to give off the impression that you'd be repaying him with sexual favors.

Not that you didn't want to. Alfie's ruggedness was just one of the many features that you admired. You were more than attracted to him, but you weren't the type to sleep with someone so early on.

It was an unspoken boundary, but Alfie understood you better than you could ever imagine. He didn't need to hear you say it and he never forced you or questioned you about it. Truth is he was willing to wait as long as he needed to because he knew it'd be worth the wait. Because something told him that you would be the one.

The chemistry between you and Alfie was naturally cohesive. He cherished every moment he got to spend with you. Every laugh and smile he teased out of you were trophies to him.

Your relationship grew into mutual petting and necking often stolen in secret at the opera, in the corners of fancy restaurants or in the convenient shadows at the pictures. It gradually grew to the point where you finally felt comfortable enough to invite him to spend the night with you.

Alfie was right. It was definitely worth the wait.

He made sure to take it slow as to burn every single second and touch of into his memory. He wanted to make it about you and your pleasure.

Every kiss of his lips burned into your skin. His beard scratched your soft flesh of your as his kisses trailed over your body. His greedy hands pulled and squeezed you tightly, aching to meld your bodies to become one.

He couldn't get enough of you and you couldn't bare to part from him. The softness of his hair when your fingers raked through it, his hairy chest brushing against your breasts and then your back, the moans and groans vibrating from the depths of his core. It was enough to have you addicted to him.

That night with you was unlike any night he'd ever spent with any other woman. There was meaning to this act, deep meaning. You were the woman he loved, the one he hoped to marry. You were the woman that had given him hope to become a father and inspired him to be a better man. Despite being a hardworking man, he felt the lost desire to have a home to return to. Suddenly, Alfie had hope for a future in which he wasn't alone.

Throughout the time he'd gotten to know you, he noticed how you always seemed to stray away when the topic shifted to your family. You didn't lie about them. You told him just enough to satiate to his curiosity that was entirely about your adoptive parents.

The truth was that you barely knew your biological family. You knew who they were - your loving adoptive parents had always been honest with you about your origins - and that you were indeed one of the legendary Shelbys of Birmingham.

You hadn't thought about them for a long time until your now-fiance Alfie was meeting with Tommy Shelby at the distillery.

At first glance, you didn't know who was sitting across from Alfie in his office until Ollie told you and asked you to wait.

You stood outside of the office, away from Alfie's sight. It was clear Tommy was in rough shape. You'd heard about the beat down; you were amazed to see him still walking.

If he recognized you, he didn't make it obvious. He only saw you on his way out of Alfie's office, but he simply walked past you and left the distillery without looking back.

An emptiness hollowed you inside after he left. You wondered if he knew who you were. You wondered if anything would've changed if you had told him. After all these years, you doubted he'd even remember he had a little sister younger than Ada. Granted he was older than you - you yourself didn't remember anything from that time - there was a small part inside you that had hoped he'd remembered, but you had finally been answered.

It'd been a couple of days since you saw Tommy at the distillery. Although it hurt a bit to know he hadn't remembered you, you accepted fate as it was and felt like you could finally put it behind you as if you had finally buried the past.

Until the devil himself walked into the Glass & Barrel, announcing his arrival with the doorbell chime. He paused for a moment and let his eyes scan the pub.

It was early in the morning with only a couple of your regulars: veterans of the war drinking away their sorrows, and Bubba: the large bouncer Alfie insisted to keep inside the pub.

You froze as you watched Tommy take a cigarette before sliding it across his lips to wet the bud. From the corner of your eye, you noticed how Bubba looked at him and sat up alert, instantly recognizing him.

Bubba was a tall man who had gained his nickname for seeming common and unthreatening. You'd seen him in action plenty of times dealing with the rowdy clients to know he was anything but. He could blend into the crowd just as easily as he could fend off four men at once. Bubba always loved a good fight.

You nodded at him to let him know it was alright. He opened his newspaper again, but his eyes stayed locked on Tommy from the far corner.

You treated Tommy as you would treat any customer and offered him a drink.

"Whisky, please," he answered as he sat in front of you at the bar.

"Brown or white?"

"Brown" he nodded watching you move behind the bar. "This place yours?"

"It is, " you answered setting a glass in front of him to pour his drink.

"Nice place... Decorate it yourself?"

"I did."

He nodded and a small sip of his drink.

"You grew up 'round here?"

"Around London, yeah. Moved a bit here and there, but always stayed in London."

"You know, I once had a little sister. She was taken away early from us. My poor mum, she did her best to raise us. We were a bit of a handful. Six in total... Last I heard about her is that she lives in London."

Tommy cradled the glass in his hand and admired the brown liquid, but he could feel your eyes burning through him.

You froze as the realization washed over you. It was no coincidence that he wandered into your pub. It was entirely intentionally.

"Runs her own pub. Seems like that tends to run in the family," he paused and eyed you with a steely steady gaze, as if he could see right through you. "Does he know?"

Tommy felt like he already knew the answer. Alfie would have most likely brought it up during their first meeting if he knew.

"No. I haven't told him. I don't feel it's necessary to."

"I can respect that. But it doesn't change the fact that you're still family."

"With all due respect, Mr. Shelby, I have a family."

"I'm just saying, that's all. If you ever need a hand, you know where to find us."

You didnt bother replying since he was quick to stand, snuffing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bar.

He stopped just before the door to set his cap on his head before glancing at you one more time on his way out.

You felt Bubba's eyes boring a hole into you so you quickly moved about, getting back to work. There was no doubt he'd be telling Alfie about this little visit. Tommy's a wise man; Bubba knew his visit was no coincidence despite having not been able to hear your conversation.

The truth would have to come out.

Once Eddie arrived to take over the night shift, you made your way a few streets over to the home you and Alfie shared.

Unlocking the door, you walked inside to hang your coat up. But from the corner of your eyes, you could a familiar shadow standing by the fireplace.

Alfie was never home this early. The lack of acknowledgement to your arrival made you certain something was up.

"Alfie. You're home early," you smiled walking towards him.

"Yeah, I am. I had an urgent matter to tend to myself."

"I see..." you nodded as you slowly drifted over towards him over the wooden floor that now felt like eggshells. Had Bubba told him about Tommy's visit? Had word spread about your relation?

"I heard tommy Shelby went to see you today... Care to tell me what that was about?"

"Before I tell you, Alf, there's something you should know."

As he lifted his gaze from the warm fire, his eyes carried the same softness he heard in your voice.

"I never told you this because I never thought it'd be relevant. But the truth is that I was adopted when I was a child... From Birmingham. I was 12 when my parents told me I'd been a Shelby."

You paused, hoping for some sort of reaction from Alfie, but there was nothing that could hint at his reaction.

"I didn't even who they were until that day I went your office. To be quite honest, I didn't even think any of them remembered me. That's why he came to the Glass & Barrel, to tell me he knew it was me."

Unbeknownst to you, Alfie already knew the truth. There was a doubt in the back of his mind that questioned - if you did in fact know your biological family - where your allegiance would lay and, at this point, it was only growing within.

His doubt consumed him, slowly but surely, over the following days. Everything had changed.

You first noticed that Alfie started missing dinner. After you moved in together, he was always home for dinner.

The mornings you once used to treasure due to the breakfast you shared with him were shared only with the presence of Cyril.

Gone before you woke up and home after you'd fallen asleep.

This night, you decided you were not going to bed. Tonight would be the night you confronted him.

The exhaustion of the day was beginning to set in. Your eyes felt heavy as you struggled to read your book, attempting to keep yourself awake.

Cyril, whose head was resting on your lap to be petted, snored peacefully. Blissfully unaware of your brewing angst.

Adrenaline quickly chased away and drowsiness you felt the minute you heard Alfie's car outside. It was now or never.

You waited for him to unlock the door and hang his coat up along with with his hat, still seated on the couch.

Alfie noticed the living room light on as he walked towards it and spotted you on the couch.

"Bit late, innit love? Should be in bed."

"Why are you avoiding me, Alfie?"

"No one's avoiding you," his foot was already on the first step of the stairs. Your anger quickly turned to tears as he proved you right.

"Then stay down here and face me, damn it."

Your hands trembled as you marched towards the stairs. Alfie stopped halfway up them when he turned to face you.

"I did not choose this, Alfie. I did not ask you be a Shelby. I did not choose the family I was born into. But if there's one thing I did choose was you."

Silences lingered heavily. His blue eyes stared down his nose at you. Your chest rose and fell with the adrenaline and flood of emotions coursing through you. As frustrated as you were, you didn't want to hate him. You couldn't if you tried.

Alfie hadn't thought about how his attitude would have affected you. He needed time to think. He trusted you blindly, but not knowing if your allegiance could change paralyzed him.

He watched how deeply emotional you were about his absence and realized that - the same way you chose to leave your biological family in the past despite knowing who they were - he needed to make a choice too.

He walked down the stairs until he stood before you.

"You're right, love," he nodded gazing into your tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry, yeah?"

His palm met your cheeks as he cradled your face in his hands.

"I'm sorry."

"Do you really think I would betray you, Alf?"

Your hands wrapped lightly around his wrists.

"For a moment, I wasn't sure if I'm not honest. Fuck, love. You gotta see from my side, yeah? Just wasn't expecting the love of my life, the apple of my eye, to be a Shelby. And that you knew."

"I didn't it mattered, Alf. I'm no Shelby. This is where my family is. In this house, here with you. I'm a soon-to-be Solomons."

"Right, you fucking are," he whispered wiping an escaping tear from your cheek.

"I choose you, Alfie. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, love. C'mere," his arms opened and welcomes you into his embrace. "I choose you too."

[cuntry-r0ckst4r]

"You Belong With Me" ~ (jake peralta x reader's version)

tw! tbh none rly, reader is a SWIFTIE!!! SUCK IT UP!!!

sum! "We've never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall and when we end up showering at the same time, we sometimes sing duets." (guess where i thought of this one...)

i love this prompt sm and it literally is grabbing me by the shoulders, screaming in my face - "THIS IS JAKE PERALTA AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT BESIDES POST IT"

You move into a new apartment, you got a fair warning before moving in that you're neighbor has a shower directly opposite of the wall of yours. So if you both take a shower at the same time you might hear each other.

You were fine with that. You're fine with thin walls, hearing your neighbor have a entire concert in the shower... oh well. The apartments sorta cheap.

This somewhat annoyment was before and only before you figured out he was a swiftie, then you tried to get in the shower at the same time constantly.

The man seemed to catch onto how you would always start showering as he would begin. What else he notices, you would sing duets together. Everytime he would play a Taylor song in the shower, you would sing along with him.

You both recently would give each other short term solo's during songs. It wasn't only Taylor Swift that played, sometimes it was just early 2000's songs. Still you would duet together nonetheless.

You would go to work and tell your friends about your neighbor that you know nothing about, besides his music taste.

Oblivious to you Jake had been doing the same thing at work.

"Charles!" He whisper yelled across the bullpenn, coming from the elevator. 

He fangirled to Charles about what was happening. Charles was practically begging him to ask you out, apparently he wanted a double date with Jake. Soon.

When you both got home at the same time, which Jake planned, he was going to ask you for your number. Maybe. If he psychs himself up enough.

Because worst case scenario wasn't that you "reject him". Worst case was you get weirded out, you don't ever talk to him again, you avoid him, you never do the shower concert duet thing whatever again.

You don't say anything as your unlocking your apartment, feeling awkward about seeing him. He knows your music taste. That's a detail not many people get to find out about each other. He heard you scream sing "You Belong With Me" in the shower.

"Hey, uh.." Jake said nervously, while walking up to you.

You stop unlocking the door, taking a deep nervous breath in, and putting on a smile.

"Uh, my names Jake. I'm the neighbor that you uh-" You cut him off before he finishes speaking.

"I know what we do." You say with a somewhat nervous snicker, "I'm (y/n)"

He smiles at you, "Hi. Uh, I was just wondering if I could take you out maybe sometime... and maybe get your number with it?"

Your smile got twice as big, you could feel it. You nod your head, not feeling any words possibly coming out anytime soon.

"Really?!" He said excitedly, before starting his cool guy persona again, "I meannnn, coolcoolcoolcoolcool..."

"So I can drive you to a restaurant of your choice at 9:30 on saturday? I'm a police officer, I work weekdays and I work late."

No. He had plans on friday to rewatch every single die hard movie. Also using Saturday gave him plenty of time to be ready to take you out.

"Sounds good, bring Taylor." You say before getting into your apartment.