#i started a couple years ago n was consistent for a few months but now i only ever remember to do it a couple times a year

[liverpool-enjoyer]

vent

[simpingsavant]

Late Night

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Summary: You are the person always working when Spencer stops by to get his fix of Mountain Dew Kickstart.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slow-burn. A gross man flirts w you for plot purposes. Promise it's very non-major but just in case.

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: First time posting for smosh, but not the first time posting fanfic. I made a whole side blog for this lol I'm thinking I want to post more so feel free to send me smosh requests and give lots of love so I stay motivated to write more hehe <3

Working the graveyard shift at a 24-hour convenience store is generally not a good idea. Except this one is in a nice area of LA, you’re almost always working with someone, and it’s slow enough that you can get your grad school work done.

Four months ago, when you were first looking at the help wanted sign in the window, you decided you would give it a week to see if it was actually worth it. Now, you were contently typing away on your computer as a group of middle-aged people grabbed alcohol and snacks. They were fancily dressed but the expressions on their faces were reminiscent of college students who were partying through the night like they owned it. When they came up with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and enough snacks to last them weeks, you happily scanned the items.

The silver fox dressed in a deep, blue suit dropped a twenty in the tip jar.

“Thank you,” You said, handing him a receipt as his cohorts grabbed the food.

The bell jingled as they left. Your coworker was in the back taking inventory. You looked down at your laptop, rereading the last couple of sentences as you found your place in the research essay you’d been taking notes from.

You loved your job. You worked from 11 pm to 8 am and although it took you time to adjust to a new sleep schedule, it was worth it. You were paid slightly more since you were working such an atrocious shift and you never interacted with your boss. Occasionally, he would message you that he was coming in early to talk, but he often just texted about what he wanted you to get done.

Until 1 am, you were working with Michael, a young man who was in his senior year of college. At 4 am, Marie would come in, an older Latina woman who had been working this shift for over ten years now. She’d relieve you for your break and you’d come back just in time for the morning rush.

You liked the morning rush. Although you couldn’t get much homework done at the time, it was when you had your most regulars. You would see moms buying their children lunch before school, office workers buying cheap coffee, and students buying energy drinks.

Marie would man the register, and you would come to help if needed. During rests, you would be restocking shelves or cleaning.

From 1 am to 4 am, you would usually see only a few faces. You would see students who stay up extremely late or workers having to go in much too early. Since it was a nice neighborhood, they were all pleasant people and you never worried about your own safety or well-being. 

Only one regular came in consistently during these hours. He looked to be about your age with chocolate hair that curled at the nape of his neck. He came in just after 1 am and always sported dark eye circles. He purchased anywhere from 4 to 8 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and occasionally a bag of chips. 

Sometimes, you’d see him in the morning again before you were off. He’d buy a cheap coffee and some fruit.

For the first month, you were too concerned with doing your job well to start any conversations besides pleasantries. He was, however, the first customer you recognized as a regular. You couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would need so many energy drinks. In particular, why in God's name did he love Mountain Dew Kickstart?

Maybe you were so intrigued because he caught your eye from day one. He was dressed in combat boots and a worn jacket. You soon learned those two items were part of his daily attire. You liked the way his hair looked or the way his downturned eyes crinkled as he smiled.

In your second month of working there, you spent way too much time trying to think of a way to start a conversation.

So far, you only got:

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How’s your night going?”

“Good, and you?”

“Fine. Do you want a bag?”

“No, I have my backpack.”

“Okay. Your total is $12.53, go ahead and swipe, insert, or tap your card. Would you like your receipt?”

Sometimes he said yes, sometimes he said no. A few times, your hands would brush. He was always so warm, your cold hands lingering as he bashfully smiled and looked away.

“Have a good one.”

“You too.”

His hair was getting longer and you thought it suited him well. You wanted nothing more than a reason to hold a genuine conversation with him.

During your third month, that reason finally came.

He walked in, luscious locks replaced with a buzz cut and you couldn’t help but go “Oh wow.”

“Is it that bad?” He joked, rubbing the top of his head.

“No, no,” You immediately said, hands moving rapidly. “It just surprised me.” A beat of silence followed before you added, “You pull it off.” He really did, but you also took that as a sign you liked him a little too much. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thanks, it was for work,” He adds, voice monotone despite the little grin he sported at your compliment. He walks farther into the store, toward the opposite wall with the display of drinks.

“For work? Are you joining the army?” You question, stumbling over your words slightly as you realize that it’s finally happening—you are finally holding a conversation with him.

“No,” He laughs. “I work for this online entertainment company.” He fills his arms with five cans. “It was for a special.”

“Oh,” You reply, rolling on the balls of your feet as you try to think of ways to keep the conversation going. “Are you an actor?”

“More behind the scenes,” He replies, coming up to the counter and placing his drinks down. He grabs a bag of chips from the front display.

“That’s cool,” You say, picking up the first can as you begin scanning.

He shrugs, “I’m sure half the city does stuff online.”

“I doubt that,” You scoff. “Maybe half does entertainment, but definitely not exclusively online content.” Feeling a little bad for shutting him down, you look up at him for a moment, expecting to see disappointment or annoyance.

Instead, he’s smiling. It’s not a large smile, but it quells your anxiety.

“You’re probably right,” He answers, fishing out his card.

“I usually am,” You joke, giving him a quick look before clicking away on your screen. “Your total is $10.54.”

He lets out a short laugh that makes your insides flip with satisfaction. “I’m Spencer by the way,” He offers, putting away his card after the reader beeps.

“Y/N,” You say, tapping your name tag. “Do you want your receipt, Spencer?”

“Sure, Y/N,” He answers, putting his drinks into his backpack.

You rip it from the printer and hold it out. The way he said your name makes you shiver. He takes the receipt and bids you farewell.

You see him in the morning and you’re eighty percent sure he times it to check out with you instead of Marie. Today he opted for an iced coffee with lots of cream and a plastic container of chopped mango.

“Good morning, Spencer. How’d you sleep?”

“Good, but not long enough. What about you?”

You see a flash of realization on his face as soon as he says it, but you’re speaking before he can correct himself.

“Haven’t slept yet, but I get off in ten minutes and will be able to sleep till five today so that’s nice.”

“What’s at five?”

“Class. They’re in the evening since so many grad students work day jobs.” You tap away on the screen. “Would you like your receipt?”

“Nah, just toss it.” He picks up the drink and fruit. “See ya later, Y/N.”

“See you,” You reply, crumpling the receipt and throwing it in the small trash bin under your register before waving to the next customer.

~~

Since then, Spencer has come in every night without fail and sparked a conversation with you. You learn that the company he works for is called Smosh and you think the name is vaguely familiar. He asks you what you’re studying and why you’re always on your laptop.

The next month and a half goes by quickly. You come to expect him, anticipating his nightly visits. He has recently started staying longer, leaning over the counter and smiling at you as he talks about something that happened the other day. If another person comes in, he usually takes that as his sign to leave, wishing you well and exiting before the new customer is ready to check out.

You’re unfortunately not getting as much homework done because of this, but you don’t mind one bit. You either work during your break or just take some time before class to do more. You wonder if he’s not getting as much sleep because of this, worried you’re burdening him. Despite this, you know that you’ll selfishly never be able to turn him away. Even if it is for his own benefit.

Once, he came in before Michael had left. Your conversation was curt and he left right after you gave him the receipt. Michael stared you down the whole time and Spencer was clearly thrown off by another person being there.

“Who was that?” Your coworker asked, moving toward you from his spot behind the hot food.

“Just a regular,” You answer, trying to keep your cool. You pull out a cloth and begin wiping down the counter, wanting to occupy your hands. “He usually comes later.”

“Ah,” Michael says, nodding slowly and giving you a look. “That’s it?”

“Yeah?”

“Interesting.”

The comment piques your interest and you can’t help but ask, “How so?”

Michael smirks at you, “Why do you care?”

“Bro, shut up,” You hiss, pushing him out of your face and walking over to your stash of food. Your face felt hot as you walked past, and you attempted to hide it in the collar of your shirt. It was never fun to be caught with a crush, but you wanted to know Michael’s thoughts. So far, you and Spencer always talked in privacy, with no onlookers to comment on if your feelings seemed mutual.

“Fine, fine,” He relents, holding his hands up. “It’s just that I saw him through the window before he came in and he was smiling way too big for someone coming in the pick up energy drinks.”

“You’d be surprised. He gets those every night,” You defensively argue, “He probably has a shrine at home.”

“Oh, come on,” Michael says, rolling his eyes as you pop a chip into your mouth. “That smile dropped as soon as he saw me. I bet he wishes it was just you.”

“Don’t say that stuff.”

“Why not? Don’t you like him? You definitely lit up when you saw him.”

You gawk at your coworker, absolutely astonished at how easy it was for him to notice. This was the first time anyone witnessed the two of you interact and now you were questioning every interaction. Did he like you? Or did he just like that you gave him a confidence boost because your infatuation was so obvious?

“W-what’s your major again? Investigation?” You accuse, stuttering out of pure frustration.

“Yes, actually—”

You roll your eyes, but the sound of the door brings your back to attention. You steel your expression but are grateful the conversation ended. It was a wake-up call for you and you spent the rest of your shift trying to understand your feelings more.

Could it still be called a crush? You felt like you knew so much and yet so little about him. When did you cross the line from strangers to acquaintances? How do you go from acquaintances to friends? Did you even want to be friends?

After that, Spencer always came in after Michael left, his disposition more friendly when it was just the two of you. You didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign, but it was hard to think about when only a counter separated the two of you and he was radiating warmth and cracking jokes.

~~

“Okay,” You hear Michael say and all of a sudden you are back to reality, no farther in your reading than you were 10 minutes ago.

The door to the back shuts and you look at your coworker with wide eyes.

“I finally finished with inventory.”

He looks down at his phone, prompting you to look at the time showing on your laptop.

12:56

“Sweet,” He says, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “Need anything from me before I go?” 

“No,” You answer. “Enjoy your night.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna go grab my stuff before I clock out.”

“For sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Later,” Michael says.

He opens the door to the back and you turn to your computer. The break room was through those doors as was the back entrance which almost all employees used when coming and going.

You focused on your computer, reading the most important parts of the study and taking down notes. In the back of your mind, you knew Spencer would be arriving soon. It makes you nervous, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you await his arrival.

You have been thinking lately about how to advance your relationship. Maybe get more personal with the information or invite him to hang out outside of your job. The idea makes you queasy because you worry about ruining everything by trying to get more.

You finished the reading and moved on to another class assignment. Spencer came in soon after, his lips quirked up and no jacket on. The weather was getting warmer and it was rather dry. You could absolutely walk around with only a T-shirt and jeans on despite the time.

This, however, drew your eyes to his arms immediately. They weren’t as hairy as you were expecting, his beard and how quickly his hair grew back making you think they would be. He wasn’t very muscley in any way, but your eyes shamelessly lingered on his biceps longer than you wanted.

His skin was littered with freckles and tattoos, black ink that started at his forearm and rose past his t-shirt. You could spend hours looking at them, a couple of them immediately garnering your interest.

“Hey,” You greeted, your eyes snapping up to his face. You were pretty sure he caught you, but he thankfully said nothing. Maybe he was used to his tattoos being looked at, an easy cover considering you weren’t just looking at his tattoos.

“Hey, how’s your night?” He makes his way across the store with ease, eyes staying on you.

“Fine, it’s extra slow tonight.”

“That’s nice,” He’s speaking loud enough that you can hear him from far away. “Are you getting a lot of homework done?”

“Yeah,” You replied. “Finals are coming up and I’m working on all the trivial homework now so I can study and work on the final essays in the library.”

“Is this your final year?”

“Sort of. I’ll be getting my masters after this, but I’m on an automated track for my PhD.”

There’s silence as he grabs a final can and walks up to the front. It’s almost awkward, but you aren’t sure why. It seems like he wants to ask you something, but is struggling to say it.

You start scanning his items, letting him think instead of trying to fill the space with meaningless talk.

“Are you still working here over the summer?”

“I am,” You light up, realizing why he was nervous. It sent a spark through your body to think about him missing you.

God, you wanted him so bad.

“I’m also doing some research work for a professor though,” You add. “I’m honestly too busy to have a job and it will only get worse in the upcoming year, but I need the money and this is the best option for pay and the ability to do homework.”

“Damn,” Spencer sighs. “I’m sorry about that.”

His voice is soft and sincere. It throws you off for a moment, not used to this kind of sympathy. Your social circle consists of Michael, Marie, and other students who were also going through their own shit.

“Oh, it's nothing,” You shyly reply, eyes falling to the counter and lips forming a tight line as your mind races.

“No, seriously,” Spencer insists. “It must be so difficult and yet you never seem like you’re struggling.”

With a large breath, you finally accept his compliment. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you.” You look up to see that his gaze is already on you and you hold eye contact for an absurd amount of time. You’re sure any onlookers would consider the scene intense.

The pressure of the moment builds, compressing your lungs.

“Um, anyways, your total is $9.54,” You say, breaking the silence and eye contact.

“Oh, right.”

Spencer shoves his hand into his pocket to grab his wallet and you once again admire his arms as he’s busy.

“How was work today?” You ask, wanting to dissipate the intensity of the moment.

“Long.” He answers. “This week is a filming week so I’ve been busy as hell working behind the camera and being in a few videos too. Tomorrow is Friday though and I don’t have to be in till 11 am.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “That sucks.” 

Long ago, when curiosity finally got to you, you looked up Smosh. You realized quickly that the name was familiar because it was quite popular back in OG YouTube. You spent an hour exploring their channels before growing bored and looking up videos with Spencer specifically. It was weird and you could only watch in short increments of time before needing a break. You felt like you were violating his privacy, but struggled to stop when you realized just how funny he was, his humor translating perfectly on camera. He held your attention in so many videos, quick quips making you burst out laughing.

You also note the differences in how he talks to you and how he talks to the camera. Although quiet, he cracks jokes almost every time he speaks. His coworkers seem like friends and you’re sure that helps to comfort any nerves he would have on screen. However, they were obviously trained on-camera talent whereas he simply fell into it because of how much the audience liked him. Around you, he made jokes, but he also seemed to shed the demeanor he developed for videos. Not every sentence was about entertaining.

They were real. Real discussions with real problems no matter how mundane.

“Yeah, but at least we are getting it done. Next week is all at my computer or in meetings,” He adds, tucking away his card and putting his drinks into his backpack. “Anyways, so, when is your finals week?”

“In two weeks technically, but I have a couple of major things going on next week,” You answer, taking a seat on the stool next to you.

“Like what?” Spencer inquires, a light in his eyes that sends a shiver up your spine.

“Well, I’m taking four classes. Two of them have an exam and a final essay. One has a final essay and matching presentation, and then last is a group assignment that also has a presentation and essay.”

“Oh no, not a group assignment,” Spencer interjects, empathy on the tip of his tongue.

“I know,” You agree, nerves falling away as you ease into familiar territory. “People in masters programs are not as bad but they can still be pretty clueless and unhelpful.” You shake your head in frustration, “Like this one guy in my group, he thinks he is so edgy and smart. He takes no criticism but also doesn’t put in enough work. He’s basically made me his personal target and I literally have a group chat with two other members just to rant when he says the stupidest shit.”

“Damn, sounds like an ass.”

“He is,” You groan, closing your eyes. “But we are almost done. We have the essay due next week and then presentations during the finals period.” You grin in relief, “After that, I have two weeks of break before starting my internship with the professor.”

“Are you getting paid for that?” Spencer asks.

The conversation was flowing easily, his interest in your life more evident than ever. It isn’t lost on you that he’s exhibiting every sign of attentive listening and it makes your insides twist. He’s leaning forward, fingers tapping away on the counter as he nods periodically.

“Only in experience,” You sigh. “Money would be great, but I’d rather learn from this and not get paid than not do it at all. I only have to dedicate 12 hours a week to it anyway and that’s not much considering my usual schedule is jam-packed.”

“What’s the study about?” He asks, holding your gaze more often than usual. You find it hard to reciprocate, too nervous to engage in whatever he is doing. You aren’t sure if you could call it flirting because he definitely wasn’t complimenting you, but he was acting differently enough that it was noticeable.

Before you can answer, a customer walks in, the bell ringing in your ears as you look at the brunette in front of you. You expect him to leave like every time before, but he doesn’t move. Although thrown off slightly, you recover quickly and answer his question. When the customer is ready to check out, Spencer simply steps to the side but lingers near. As soon as the man leaves, Spencer is right back where he was and asking you another question that keeps you talking.

He leaves twenty minutes later, eyes half-lidded and tired. You don’t see him that morning, likely because he doesn’t have to go into the office as early as usual. Despite logic, you still miss him.

~~

When Spencer comes in that night, he’s later than usual. Not by much, it’s not even 2 am when he walks through the door. And yet, he’s apologetic.

“Hey, sorry,” He mumbles, coming right up to the counter.

Taken aback, your hands slip from your keyboard and you stand up straight. Fridays were always the busiest weekday and although you did wonder where Spencer was, you didn’t have much time to think about it.

“I was playing a game and totally lost track of time,” He continued, a touch more out of breath than usual. He runs a hand through his short, recently bleached hair.

“No worries,” You say, not quite sure why he’s apologizing. It’s not like you had a set time to hang out or do something together. “Need to come get a drink so you can keep going?” You ask, trying to dissipate the awkward feeling that was bubbling up. You didn’t want to let yourself assume more than was reality.

“No, no, I mean,” He stumbles, “I probably will go back to playing, I just—never mind.” He looks down, staring at the counter, specifically the display of scratchers in the built-in glass case.

God, this felt so weird. You shouldn’t have said that, maybe he actually wanted to see you but then you ruined it by making it about the drinks and not you.

“So, what game were you playing?” You ask, the air feeling stuffy.

After a relieved sigh, Spencer goes into the details. You listen intently because not only is he a good storyteller, but you also genuinely care about his interests.

As he rants about some game mechanic, your mind begins to wander. More precisely, you wonder if your affection for him is obvious. Even from the short interaction you had in front of Michael, he could tell there was something more going on. To a stranger would it be obvious? To your friends would it be obvious? Would they say you two would make a cute couple? Or would they not see the chemistry?

“Oh, that’s frustrating,” You say, picking up on the pause in his monologue.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “It’s life.” He leans over the counter, shoulders more relaxed than when he first entered. “I needed a break anyway. So, how’s your night been?”

“Well,” You begin. “I felt rather lost without you.” Sarcasm is dripping off your tongue and Spencer immediately smiles. “My internal clock is all screwed up.”

“You poor thing,” He says, playing along.

“You, sir, need to take your responsibility more seriously,” You laugh, sitting back down in your chair and leaning over to grab your water. “More than half an hour late, I’m sure your body is screaming for a Mountain Dew.”

“Not just a Mountain Dew,” He protests, “A Mountain Dew Kickstart.”

You giggle, just about to add something before the bell rings and your eyes immediately shift to the front door. The patron, dressed in black jeans, a blue hoodie, and a leather jacket, comes up to you immediately. In the fifteen-foot walk between you and the door, you notice he is at least twenty years older than you, skin wrinkling and sagging with age. His clothes are worn, fraying at the seams. When he pushes forward, Spencer immediately slinks away, stepping over to look at the opposite wall of food. The stranger places his hands on the counter and you see dirt under his nails.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse.

“Two packs of the Marlboro Red,” He commands, his eyes dragging up and down your body. Just as you turn to grab the cigarettes, you can see a smirk forming on his lips.

You sigh, taking a moment to harden your exterior before turning around to scan the packs. These kinds of customers were uncommon for the area, but still came in enough for you to pick them out of a crowd immediately. Usually, they leave easily enough.

“Anything else?” You ask, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Two of those beef taquitos, hun,” He says, a dirty finger pressing against the warm glass.

You feel a wave of cold at the name but move aside to grab the hot food without any fuss. The sooner he leaves the better. When you hand them over to him, he purposefully moves his hand far enough forward that it touches yours. You are vaguely aware of Spencer in the background, but force your eyes off him.

You can deal with this on your own just fine.

The stranger's eyes linger on your hand and you snatch it away, typing on the tablet to add the taquitos to his total.

“Anything else?” You echo, voice more curt than before.

“Hmm,” He hums contemplatively, putting his finger to his chin like he’s performing. “I suppose I’ll take your number too.”

You fake a laugh, looking into his eyes for only a moment before going back to your screen. “Although I’m flattered, I don’t give my number to strangers.” A few more taps to the device, “Your total is $22.37.”

“Well,” He leans forward and reads off your name from the tag. It sounds sickly coming from his lips. “My name is Mark. Give me your number and then we won’t be strangers.” He pulls out his card to pay, shoving the cigarettes into his pockets.

You give him a forced smile, resting your hand on your heart while you try to let him down gently. “Nice to meet you, Mark, but still. I am not interested.”

“Why?” He questions, “You got a boyfriend?”

You debate telling him you’re in a relationship. Maybe it will get him to leave, maybe he’ll just suggest you cheat. It’s always difficult to tell.

“Dude,” You hear a voice speak up. “You’re holding up the line.”

Mark turns around to see Spencer a few feet behind. You have to crane your neck to see him, the brunette lining up down an aisle. He’s holding some random items, clearly having wandered around the store, paying attention but trying to look like he was merely shopping.

Just before Mark can say anything, Spencer is pushing forward and shouldering past. “Just take the L and move on,” He deadpans, his voice low and foreboding. He stares down the stranger, putting his items onto the counter without even looking away. He’s half a head shorter than the guy, but his presence alone makes up for that tenfold.

“Here’s your receipt,” You quietly interject, holding it out. Half of you was thankful for the interruption, but the other half of you was annoyed. Despite that, you choose to use this opportunity to end the conversation.

With a huff, Mark snatches the receipt from your hand.

“Whatever,” He mumbles to himself, “Bitch.”

The bell dings as he exits, leaving you and Spencer in a loud silence. You let out a shaky breath.

“Oh my god,” Spencer begins. His words draw your gaze away from the door and to him. You can see the concern on his face and the disgust in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You have a moment to say before he’s talking again.

“What an ass. Do you not have a panic button?”

“I do,” You answer, “But that’s for robberies.”

“Or this!” He protests, gesturing at the door where the man had exited. “You need to stay safe.”

“I was staying safe,” You defend.

“I can’t believe they have you alone at this time of night,” Spencer continues, seemingly not registering your words. “Like, anyone can just come in here!”

“Spencer,” You say, trying to grab his attention.

“You should never have to deal with that kind of–”

“Spencer,” You repeat, finally getting him to shut up.

“What?”

“It’s fine, I can deal with this on my own. You didn’t need to help,” You explain, wishing the moment would simply pass so you could move on.

“Just because you can deal with it on your own doesn’t mean you have to,” He argues, his voice softer than before.

His words leave you at a loss, unsure how to respond. He breaks the silence before you can.

“How often does this happen?”

“Not often,” You say, struggling to make any eye contact. “This is a nice area and usually they just give up after a couple of tries.”

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair with an exasperated expression. “Sorry,” He mumbles, the word being pulled from him. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” You can see the regret in his eyes. “I got so heated and I should have just made sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” You say, “Thanks.” His apology was unexpected but very appreciated. “I am fine.”

Spencer nods, the moment feeling slightly awkward as the resolution comes. “When does the next person get here?” He asks.

“Four,” You answer, taking a chance to grab your phone and check the time.

2:21

“Damn, that’s a long time.”

“It’s whatever,” You shrug. “It goes pretty quickly since I’m basically just talking to you and then doing homework.”

When the words register for him, there’s a glint in his eyes and a small smile forming on his face. “That’s good,” He replies. There’s a pause before he speaks again, “But damn, that’s like an hour and a half away.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, resting back on your stool.

“Can I stay?” He asks, surprising you. “For peace of mine, I mean. I’m just thinking about me leaving and that guy coming right back in. I don’t know, it’s dumb, but I just can’t imagine leaving you right now.”

“Sure,” You reply, interrupting his word vomit once you’ve regained your barrings.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, a closed-lip grin forming. “I would love for you to keep me company.”

“Cool,” He says, a smile forming for him.

The moment is awkward and foreign. From an outside perspective, you probably both look like grinning idiots.

“Well,” Spencer begins, breaking the silence, “I’m definitely going to need an energy drink to stay awake.” He looks down at the pile of snacks he brought up. “You keep working, I’m gonna put these away and come back up with stuff I actually want to buy.”

“Roger that,” You reply, giving him a look before turning back to your computer. You don’t get much work done as you wait for him to come back up. You can’t see him in the aisles, but as he moves between aisles, he always looks at you. The security camera screen is just to your right and you can’t help but watch him as he puts away the random collection of items.

You’re nervous, too distracted by his presence to focus on anything. You were somewhat excited to spend such a prolonged period of time with him. However, you were also absolutely terrified that you would make a fool of yourself or simply seem too boring.

“Okay,” You hear him say, already aware that he was making his way back to the front. “All done.” He is now holding three cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and a chocolatey protein bar. “Can I also get a couple of taquitos?”

“What kind?” You ask, reaching forward to start scanning his items.

“Your pick, I guess."

You smile at him and see he’s already grinning at you. You can’t help it, everything he does seems to make you happy beyond logic. “I’ll give you one chicken and one fiesta. The beef is fine and the cheese is not good.”

“Sounds like a plan,” He laughs, pulling out his card to pay and then opening a can and taking a big swig.

“Did that guy getting some make you crave them?” You ask, a joking glint in your eyes as you look up at him.

“Am I a misogynist if I say yes?” He replies, making you let out a laugh that was just a little too loud.

When you hand him the taquitos, he leans back onto the counter, head turned so you can see his side profile. He has the drink in one hand and the paper bag of taquitos in another. He takes a bite, a comfortable silence falling over you both. You occupy your time by looking down at your computer and mindlessly clicking around while you try to think of things to talk about. 

“How was work?” You say, deciding on that as the least risky option.

“Good,” He shrugs. “We finished a little late and traffic meant I didn’t get home till almost 7 pm.”

“Oh jeez,” You groan. “My commute is pretty easy in the morning because I go opposite the traffic.”

“I’m jealous,” He replies, smiling at you. “Do you live far from here?”

A shock of electricity shoots through your body. “Somewhat. This isn’t my local convenience store, but I’m not that far.”

Spencer nods, “This isn’t mine either.”

“What?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrows perked up like he didn’t just say something ridiculous.

“This isn’t your nearest convenience store,” You repeat slowly. When he nods, you ask, “So why do you come here?”

Spencer laughs, realizing his mistake. “The one nearest me is literally down the street, but they don’t always have these,” He answers, holding up the pineapple orange mango-flavored drink. “This store is only a few more minutes away and it always has them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because you buy our stock,” You joke. “I’ve literally had my boss ask about why we are selling so many more.”

“Really?” He gasps, leaning in closer. “I used to only make the walk here if the closer one was out, but four months ago I just stopped bothering.”

The fact that four months is when you started working is not lost on you. Feeling confident, you add, “What about when you get coffee? I’m sure the other one has coffee.”

“True.” He looks slightly caught off guard, eyes scanning the store before speaking, “I only come to get coffee here if I’m too lazy to make it at home and running early enough to…” He pauses for a second, the sentence closing as if it wasn’t the planned ending. Finally, he adds, “To see you.”

You hum, looking down because your face is warm and you’re at a loss for words. Luckily, he’s too nervous to look at you either. You feel tingly, knowing full well that this is a special moment that you’ll look back on if you end up dating.

“Anyways,” Spencer breaks the silence. Before he can say anything else, he yawns, mouth opening wide.

“You know you can go home, right?” You laugh. When you look down at your computer, you see it’s about half an hour later. “No one has come in and I doubt anyone will before Marie gets here.”

“No, no,” He protests. “And anyway, aren’t I making time fly?”

“I suppose,” You grin. “You are quite great company.”

Spencer flashes you a smile that makes your insides twist. You wonder if he is picking up on all this. If he can tell that you’re interested in him.

“I’m honored.”

“You should be.” You sarcastically quip. “I have high standards for the company I keep close to me.”

“Is this close?” He contemplates aloud. “I’ve never even seen you without your black polo, black pants, and nonslip shoes.”

You laugh, looking down at your clothes. “Don’t you like this fit?”

“I mean, I love it,” Spencer starts, “But I don’t know how much you’re serving day to day.”

“I serve even when I’m only going to class,” You protest. “Maybe when I’m done with finals, I’ll grace you with my out-of-work personality.”

Spencer grins, “I’d be honored.”

You’re on high alert, knowing exactly what was happening.

“You should be,” You echo, unsure of what else to say. It doesn’t matter though. You could say anything and Spencer would find you charming.

“Maybe we can go to competing stores and graffiti them,” He suggests, long since turned around so he can look at you fully.

“Pft,” You laugh. “I don’t want to get arrested with you the first time we hang out.”

“You don’t? That’s usually my go-to!”

“Well, my go-to is food. Or the arcade.”

“The arcade?” He questions. “All this time I’ve been talking about games and you’ve never mentioned that you’re also a gamer?”

“I am not!” You protest. “Definitely not compared to you. You’re a savant and I’m the fool.”

“I doubt that,” He replies, a grin never leaving his face as he leans in closer. “I say arcade so I can check out your skills.”

“Deal,” You say, leaning onto the counter so you are only a few feet away. “The arcade it is.”

[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.

[gingiesworld]

The Woods (1/?)

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Fic Warnings : Angst. Violence. Death. Horror. Reader has a penis

Present

Wanda was sat with her arms wrapped around her in the cold room, chairs positioned into a circle, other patients had filled them. Some of them she had become acquainted with. Listening to their stories, trying her hardest to not tell her own story. The story that changed her life. Not for the better.

"Wanda, you have been coming here now for a few months and you have yet to tell your story." The counsellor told her.

"I just don't feel comfortable." She told them as they shook their head with a smile.

"Everyone needs to tell their story Wanda." They told her sternly. "So please, do share."

"Well, before I was here, over a year ago." Wanda fiddled with her sleeves. "I was happy. I had my friends, I know that my being here has kind of put up some barriers in my relationships but I uh, they thought I needed the help." She looked down at the ground. "Especially after Y/N. I lost my Y/N."

A little over a year ago

Wanda was excited when she approached the car with her bag, handing it over to Y/N who put the bag in the trunk before she got in the passenger seat. They had decided that the group of friends would have a weekend away at a cabin that Tony had booked.

Wanda got in the passenger seat beside Y/N, who was driving. Natasha and Maria in the back seat. Tony, Pepper, Clint and Laura in the car behind. It was going to be the four couples, having a couples weekend.

"I'm so excited for this." Maria said as she rested her head on Nat's shoulder.

"Me too." Nat agreed.

"We have needed this break." Maria said before Nat pecked her lips. Y/N took Wanda's hand in theirs, pressing a kiss to their lips.

"We most definitely do need this before the baby comes." Y/N smirked as they looked at Nat's and Maria's reactions through the mirror.

"Wait?" Nat yelled as Maria looked at a smiling Wanda. "You're pregnant!"

"Again!" Maria yelled as Wanda nodded.

"Do the twins know?" Nat asked her as Wanda shook her head no.

"We're going to tell them after the 20 week scan when we know what we're having." Wanda told them. "So this weekend they get to have a fun weekend with their Uncle Pietro."

"So, we are to expect a lot of noise from the two of you then?" Maria questioned with a smirk.

"Maybe." Wanda blushed as Y/N and Nat chuckled. "It's our first weekend away without the twins. We deserve it." Wanda told them as Y/N gave Wanda's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yes we do." Y/N agreed as they started to drive. The drive lasted a few hours, consisting of Nat and Maria singing as Wanda watched the scenery change from the buildings of New York to the country side. Barely any life in sight except for those travelling through.

Y/N's phone rang as they drove, Wanda reached into their pocket and answered it.

"There should be a turn off on the left." Tony said as Y/N kept looking through the trees. "And just follow the road."

"Thanks Tony." Y/N spoke as Wanda hung up, Y/N followed his directions and got on the road in question. It started to be covered by trees as it went further into the woods.

"This is kind of creepy." Wanda noted as the woods got thicker and thicker, the sunlight barely shone through the leaves.

"I think it will be fun." Nat said with a smile as Maria just shook her head with a smirk.

"You would think it will be fun if you spent the weekend with Hannibal." Maria stated as Y/N looked in the mirror at Maria.

"That would be fun." Y/N stated as Wanda shook her with a smirk at the two best friends.

"You two are despicable." Maria stated.

"Hey, you can't tell me you wouldn't want to know what made him choose to eat people meat." Y/N told her.

"Exactly, I would at least have a replacement if ever I lost Y/N." Nat told them.

"Hey." Y/N yelled. "I am irreplaceable and you know it."

"Ok Beyoncè." Nat teased them as they all erupted in laughter. Soon quieting down when they noticed the cabin. It was dark and silent, barely the sound of the birds above could be heard.

"How did Tony hear about this place again?" Wanda questioned wearily as they all slowly took off their seatbelts. Tony, Pepper, Clint and Laura all wore the same expressions.

"I think he mentioned a friend of a friend." Nat informed them. "But I wouldn't quote me on it."

"It will be fun." Y/N told them. "Besides, Pietro and Steve have our location if anything happens." Y/N reassured Wanda as they kissed her cheek. "Let's just enjoy a twin free weekend. I wanna say just the two of us but there is eight of us."

"Let's go." Wanda nodded as they all got out of the car. Y/N and Maria grabbed the bags as Wanda and Nat waited by the car. Wanda was extremely weary about the cabin. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something just seemed off.

Present

"So that was the start of the weekend." Wanda said as she shrugged, wiping a tear that threatened to fall. "I just never realised that it would be the worst weekend of my life."

"Thank you for sharing Wanda." The counsellor smiled softly at her before moving on to the next person. She knows she has therapy as well as these counselling sessions, she just wants to get better for the twins sake.

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

Billy and Tommy weren't in the best of places, considering they had lost one parent and an unborn sibling, but their mom was in a mental hospital after her parents had her committed. They didn't believe the stories she told them about thr deaths, nor did they believe Nat either. The only two survivors as Y/N made her promise to get Wanda safe.

Although Nat was in a completely different place to Wanda. Since there was no real evidence and Wanda became dilarious after the loss of Y/N and the miscarriage.

"You still think I did it?" Nat questioned Jennifer Walters, her friend and attorney.

"I don't know what to think Nat." Jennifer said as she rubbed her brow. "You and Wanda were the only ones whp survived. The others died. Brutally I might add."

"I know that! I was there!" Nat yelled at her before Jennifer raised her hand to stop one of the guards from restraining her. "I just. No one believes me or Wanda. She is in an asylum. She is missing out on raising her kids because of this!"

"I know." Jennifer spoke softly. "But with no evidence, we only had the bodies to go off and no weapon."

"I wouldn't kill my wife or my friends. My best friend." Nat whispered in defeat. "I don't know how many times I can say it until you believe me."

"I am trying everything I can Nat. Even Lena and Alexei are looking into the cabin. You just need to be patient. Please" Jennifer pleaded with her.

A little over a year ago

Everyone walked the steps with caution, the cabin was in complete darkness until Tony opened the door and flicked the switch on the wall. Looking around at the furniture, it was like a standard hunting cabin, not really for the feint of heart.

"See, it's not too bad." Tony smirked as Pepper glared.

"Seriously Tony, you're a Billionaire." She scolded him. "You could have paid for us all to go to the Bahamas or something."

"Now that is a vacation I can get on board with." Clint smirked as the others agreed with him.

"Hey, it's just one weekend right, we have some food and good company. It will be just like high school." Y/N reasoned as the others sighed.

"Yeah." Wanda agreed with them. "Let's give it a chance."

"I'd rather wait until I see the bedrooms." Maria mumbled as they all headed up the stairs towards the rooms. All of them choosing their own, of course Tony had called dibs on the master since he had paid for the cabin.

"I don't feel right here Y/N." Wanda mumbled as she stood in the doorway of their room. Looking around at the stained walls, some were covered with pictures of the area or animals.

"It's just one weekend Wanda." They told her as they wrapped their arms around her waist. "When we get home, we can look at booking our own little getaway, anywhere you want to go. Just the two of us." They told her with a smile as she nodded.

"That sounds perfect." With that kiss, it eased her worries for the time being. Not knowing what hid away in the darkness, in the confines of the cabin. They weren't alone, and they were going to find out.

[babblydrabbly]

there for you || mcu!peter parker x reader || oneshot

A/N: A simple face sitting prompt with Peter that got a little out of hand! Alas, I regret nothing. @biracialdisaster @spooky-ghosts

Smut - hurt/comfort - 3k words - Warnings: Friends/Roomies with benefits. Bruises/injuries. Post-NWH. NWH Spoilers. Peter and f!reader are in their mid-20’s. Kissing. Drug usage (marijuana). High sex. Oral (f/m). Sixty-nining, heyoo.

You knew from the moment he answered your ad for a new roommate that things would get complicated. Peter’s got some anxiety about it, but you don’t seem too troubled.

You raise a lazy hand from the couch when the front door slams shut, your eyes still glued to the television.

“Hey, you’re not dead.” You call over your shoulder. Peter stiffens. You have no idea how true the opposite had nearly been in the last few hours. He drops his backpack onto the floor beneath the ledge of the kitchen counter with a sore toss.

You’d grown used to his disappearances. It wasn’t unusual for him to stagger in just as your night owl routine came to an end, dawn only a few hours away. Sometimes you didn’t see him for days. The only consistencies seemed to be the bruises and cuts- and the occasional limp.

You had your theories. Fight clubs, sex clubs, etc. It was New York, afterall, and you’d seen much stranger. Peter smiled awkwardly when you tried to sit him down and level with him- in all seriousness- that it was okay to tell you if someone he loved was roughing him up.

“I’m for real, man. If it’s a girlfriend or boyfriend or whoever. You don’t have to tell me the details. But we can get you help, alright?”

Peter waved you off, wincing as he did so. “It’s nothin’ like that. Just, trust me, okay? No partner to speak of.” He added, eyes flickering away. “But thanks.”

There was a girl. MJ, he had admitted once. But it was a complicated thing, and Peter decided to let sleeping dogs lie after a few months of pining and failing to tell her how he felt. He moped for a few months more after that, too.

Until finally, you’d had enough. You cornered him after he came out of your shared bathroom one day, steam still drifting out from the hot shower. Peter jumped.

“Wha-”

You’d backed him into the hallway wall until he let out a little meep. You were around the same height, but he shrank from your firm gaze as he covered his bare chest with crossed hands.

“I know. I know I said no funny business, Parker.” You started solemnly. “But that was before I knew you were a good guy. And you are a good guy. You ever want to let off some steam, just… let me know, okay?”

Perhaps it was your uncharacteristic softness as you said it. Or perhaps it was the fact that unbeknownst to you, Peter had been so utterly alone these past couple years without any friends or affection to speak of. Everyone in the world had forgotten him. And as hard as he tried to make progress with Ned and MJ, they were still just friendly acquaintances compared to the bond they used to share when Peter had felt so much younger.

You pushed off the wall you had backed Peter into and offered him a small smile, turning into your room without another word on the subject. Peter’s brown eyes trailed after you, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a thick swallow as you tugged your shirt and bra off in one, casual motion. That’s all it took it seemed, for Peter to hesitantly step in behind you, the towel at his waist dropping to the floor.

You crane your neck over the back of the couch now, eyes red but happy. Peter huffs at the all too familiar scene. The empty pizza box on the coffee table, your soft hair free and a little mussed. He doesn’t spy the bong outright in the open but he has no doubt it’s nearby.

You grin at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling. He chuckles, despite his body aches and tiredness.

“Day off?” He muses. He opens the fridge. Peter blinks at the fully stocked shelves, his side of the fridge full of food that wasn’t there a few days ago.

“Two days off in a row!” You announce cheerfully.

“What’s all this on my side?” Peter asks, pulling a can of soda free from a new six-pack.

“Payday. Got you some stuff.” You mumble. You pat around for the remote distractedly to mute it as he shuts the door.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Peter says fondly, approaching you. You wave him off.

“You hook me up with free pies all the time, Parker. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

You scoff and move over to make room for him on the couch. Peter drops down onto the worn cushions with a pained sigh.

“How about you hang out for a while, huh? Chill out for a second.”

Peter takes a sip of his drink as you make your water pipe appear suddenly, just as he anticipates. Pink-tinted glass dotted with small white daisies.

He watches as you grab a lighter off the coffee table and flick it to life. It’s still a little hypnotic to him, the way the water bubbles, the smoke pluming up until it reaches your full lips. You’ve long since stopped pinching his cheeks over the way he marveled at the science behind smoking the first time you offered him a hit. Jesus, it feels like so long ago now- how not used to being around you he had felt.

Still, you were a welcoming new roommate. And despite the shit you gave him for being an uptight nerd, you never made him feel out of place.

You arch a brow at him after exhaling deeply, holding the glass up toward him. “Hm?”

It’s habitual, the way he puts up a hand to wave it away. But something makes Peter pause today. Makes him put his hand back down and eye your patient expression, even through your gentle haze. He sets his soda down and takes the bong and lighter with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, no pressure, Peter.” You remind him. You place a hand on his upper arm without thinking, your thumb rubbing his bicep sweetly. It seems to be the thing to spur him on. You grin as he brings the small flame to the bowl.

You burst into giggles when he jerks away after a moment, his cheeks suddenly bright red with a fit of coughs from such a long rip.

“Whoa! There you go!” You place your gear back on the table for him and pat his shoulder encouragingly, commending him. ”Long day?”

Peter sinks back into the couch as the waiting game begins. “You have no idea.”

From watching you, Peter’s learned it doesn’t take long for a normal person to feel the weightless, dizzying sensation to take effect. But with his abilities, it always seemed to take forever- even with some of your stronger stuff. And when it did hit, it was never quite like you described.

But it was a pleasant respite. Peter turns his head toward you, surprised to see your face laced with sympathy.

“...What?” He murmurs.

You blink, shaking your head after a delayed moment. “Nothin’.” You assure him.

But Peter knows this is usually when you double check. Press him again to make sure he’s okay. A flash of melancholy washes over him when you don’t.

Were you finally too tired to ask anymore? Was he finally shutting you out one too many times? Now that he thinks about it, you’ve held off on giving up longer than most people he’s actively tried to connect with. Balancing Peter and Spiderman is a fixed game. Eventually, people stop bothering to figure out what Peter could possibly be holding so close to his chest.

Peter’s so lost in thought he doesn’t notice your hand on his jaw until it’s sliding to cup his chin, turning his pensive face back to look at you.

You lean in, your kiss slow but deep. Peter shifts in an instant, hands flying up but unsure where to settle as your tongue darts out to swipe against the familiar seam of his lips. Your sigh melts into a soft, pleased little sound when his tongue meets yours. Peter’s hands finally find your sides as he twists toward you. You reach up with your other hand to cup his face, thumbs smoothing down across the faint stubble at his cheeks from days out on patrol.

Peter could talk your ears off for hours about so many things. Chemistry. Video games. Life in general. He wasn’t a quiet person. He was full of life, really. Why he seemed so lonely at the same time; it tugged at your heartstrings. There was something bruised and tender inside your friend Peter Parker. Maybe one day he’d be ready to tell you about it, but for now…

The two of you kiss for a few minutes- or much longer- Peter can’t tell with the way he gets lost chasing every movement of your lips. Every delicate slide of your wet tongue. Peter swallows every sigh, every quiet moan that grows from you until they stir that warm heat in his lower belly.

Finally, when you pull away, he finds it difficult to open his eyes all the way again. He stares at you in a daze, and you giggle again knowingly.

“Feeling better?” You wonder aloud. And he can’t help the languid grin that spreads across his face. A breathy chuckle escapes him. When he nods, it’s as if his mind is trying to catch up with the motion long after it’s happened.

“Much better.” He sighs.

Your eyes search his. The question on the tip of your tongue.

“Do you want to…?”

Peter worries his bottom lip with his teeth. Your bloodshot eyes seem to read his. He’s still bone tired. Still aching.

Peter’s gaze remains on you as you reach over and coax his arms out of his jacket, tossing it aside for him to expose the simple gray v-neck underneath.

Your palms glide appreciably up and down his toned arms before resting on his chest, pushing him onto his back without protest. Peter’s limbs feel heavy as you shift to straddle his thighs. Your thin lounge pants are a near non-existent barrier against the telling bulge beneath his jeans.

Peter’s eyelids flutter as you give your hips a roll. He exhales, shuddering, and you know by the way he’s tracing circles with his thumbs at your hips. He wants. Wants but is still too wound up to ask openly. It’s adorable every time. Refreshing, really. You lean down and capture his lips again, moaning when his strong hips buck to meet you eagerly, bouncing you on top of him.

He unlatches from your hips, his hands moving over your shirt to cup both your breasts. You’re braless under your soft shirt as he kneads and massages at you, your hips still meeting to grind  against each other halfway again and again.

Your nipples stiffen under his lithe fingers. Peter elicits a gasp from you when he tugs your shirt over your head, hands and mouth meeting your breasts hungrily. You brace a hand beside his head on the armrest as he sucks marks  across your chest.

You hum when you feel his fingers dance back down your sides and curl around your waistband.

“Wanna taste you.” Peter utters breathlessly, looking up at you with big, brown eyes.

You place your smaller hands over his, coaxing them off you with a smile. “Yeah? Lay back some more, ‘kay?”

Peter just nods with awe as you remove yourself from his lap, shimmying out of your pants with a wiggle of your hips.

Peter’s tempted to slide off the couch and push his face between your legs right then and there. To grip your thighs until they quake and your legs buckle there in the middle of the living room. But soon you’re the one kneeling- you undo the button and zipper on his jeans.

It clicks for Peter then. He wriggles to help you slide his own pants off, and you snort at the way he fumbles to throw them over his shoulder for you. You laugh lightly and push him back down onto the couch- playful but firm this time. And Peter falls back with a soft ‘oh’. You turn around.

It takes a few careful adjustments, but soon your legs are hooked under the man’s arms, your body facing down his as he presses his fingers into your thighs with a shaky breath.

It takes you a moment to register the length of his body- how his fair skin is littered with purple-yellow welts from his ribs down to his strong legs. Your brows furrow, and without thinking, you bend forward and press a kiss to a large, nasty-looking bruise atop his right thigh. Peter jerks minutely, then stills when you do it again, softer this time. He responds with a broken hum, his own wet kiss planting itself near your folds, where the apex of your sex and your inner leg meet.

You bow your back to look over yourself at him, your hand reaching down to spread your cheeks apart until you’re lowering down onto his face.

You whimper at the first swipe of Peter’s tongue along the parted folds of your pussy. You’re wet and shining, your slickness ready to bloom across his tongue since the two of you had started kissing. You lower yourself further, earning a low groan when his lips meet the hot core between your thighs. Leaning forward, you reach into Peter’s boxers and grip his cock. It twitches as you spring him free.

It’s a melting kaleidoscope of sensations. The way Peter’s head spins from his high and your taste. The way his hips can’t stop rolling up to meet the wet warmth of your mouth as you lap and suck and mewl.

One moment he’s lost in between your legs, his vision crackling with color even as he keeps his eyes closed. The next, the only thing he can seem to cling to is how you grip and work his cock, his release drawing near with every swirl of your tongue. He can’t concentrate on anything. He can sense everything. And the one thing he knows for certain is how content you are to pleasure one another like this without any rush.

Still, his climax rears without warning. It’s a sudden, overwhelming wave that makes Peter’s hips push off the couch with a long groan. You grip the base of his cock as his spend paints the back of your throat, stroking him until he whimpers sharply and digs his nails into your thighs hard enough to leave small crescent shapes in their wake. The action pins you down onto him- his strength surprising you.

Locked in his vice, you buck and whine as he focuses on you now. Every hot, heavy stroke of his tongue makes you jump as he licks a path back and forth from your clit to your entrance.

“Peter!” You cry. You press your face into his thigh as yours shake. He keeps lapping, keeps you pinned until you cry out his name again- your vision whiting out as you finally come.

Peter waits until you catch your breath with a deep sigh before releasing your legs. His hands maneuver and guide you off his chest as he gets you to turn around. The two of you shift-  turn this way and that- until you’re rested comfortably on top of Peter, your legs entangled carefully to avoid putting any more pressure on the bruises across his flesh.

You lay in silence for a good while. Peter gazes at you as you slip in and out of sleep, his hand scratching lightly across your bare back. The city sounds just a few floors below drift up into the apartment, even through the closed windows and curtains. And Peter can’t remember the last time he felt like this. Somewhere safe and his.

“Oh no,” You groan, rousing yourself from sleep. Peter blinks. His attention snaps back down to you.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks as he cards his fingers through your hair in an attempt to comfort. You smush your face against his chest.

“I forgot I ate all the pizza.” You lament, gesturing weakly to the empty box on the table.

Peter snorts, then bursts into laughter when you bat at his arm.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Starving.” He agrees. “Why don’t I walk downstairs and get us some more. Sound good?”

You make a sound of approval. But instead of shifting to let him off the couch, you settle in more, your face pushing into the space between Peter’s neck and shoulder with a sigh. After a moment of hesitation, Peter wraps his arms around you and breathes out a small, content sigh of his own.

“Stay in with me tomorrow.” You say quietly. “You don’t have to go back out there again do you?”

The urge to tell you the truth strikes him. To confess to you the why behind his double life. Peter’s eyes widened at himself. He hasn’t done it since before the world forgot the first time, and a cold spike of anxiety stabs at him just imagining everything that could go wrong with telling you now.

You shift when he doesn’t answer. And when you look up at him, Peter is startled to see the faintest hint of hurt in your expression.

“Sorry.” You murmur, already moving to get off of him. “Was that too far? For us?”

Peter snatches up your hands in his, shaking his head. “No, no, no. It’s not that. It’s not. I was just…” He trails off, looking at a loss for words. You give him another moment to explain.

When he doesn’t, you squeeze his hands in return.

“You just seem so burnt out, Peter. I don’t know if it’s a second job… or some secret MMA league or something,” You smile when you get a chuckle out of him. “But just… give it a rest. Just for one day. It’ll be there when you get back. And when you recharge you’ll feel better. I keep waiting for someone you care about to tell you to think of yourself for once. But if I have to do it, I will.”

Peter’s breath flutters as you reach up and brush the back of your fingers along his jaw, his heart’s rhythm suddenly jumping.

“You are someone I care about.” Peter confesses. To you, and to himself.

It’s your turn to blink at him in surprise. Peter watches as you try to smother a smile, your eyes darting away. “Yeah?”

Peter’s kiss is gentle. Earnest. He draws you close, bringing you into his arms with wordless assurance. It’s not the big truth- but it is a truth. One whose importance seems to be growing and taking up more space inside him he never anticipated.

Peter nods, his chin brushing the top of your head. “I mean it.”

[dinthehottotty]

Fine Line - Virgin!Din Djarin

A/N: My fiance helped me pick out whether Din was gonna be a virgin or a little slut. This became so much more intimate than expected. I love the idea that this couple would be so comfortable with each other, so supportive that they could just blend into each other, no matter the circumstances.

Warnings: sexual themes, teasing, virgin!Din, tiddy play, fingering, handjobs, angst if you squint, mostly just fluffy first time smut, heavy breeding kink. Heavy. Dirty talk. Feral!Din. Slight pain kink. Submissive!Reader. Din's also slightly ooc.

Summary: A biodart has made Din's nose exceptional on hunts but it makes it hard to be around you when your ovulating - especially when you're his best friend and bounty hunting partner.

Din had been strange. You hadn't picked up the pattern on him yet but there were random days that he just avoided you like a plague. It was odd, a little hurtful as he'd go all stiff and flee from you every chance he got on those days.

You'd tried not to think much of it but it was hard when you cared so deeply for him. Most days he was normal, humming along to your chatter softly as you both went about daily tasks. He didn't seem bothered to scoop the kid out of your arms and touching you was still just only when needed. Bandaging boo boos for you was endearing.

His hands never lingered too long. You both had a comfortable working relationship. Maybe years ago when you first began working together you'd been head over heels in last with him but you'd never acted on it. He hadn't either. The lust sunk into a deeper sort of emotion as you were exposed to his caring nature. He was simple. Straight forward. You'd become so comfortable around each other that he didn't flinch at you when you grasp his helmet and drag him down to your level. You knew when he'd cave to something and how to get what you wanted from him.

Countless arguments that mostly just consisted of him telling you he wouldn't do something - you sarcastically agreeing - and then him eventually doing the thing was your dynamic.

He'd brought you into the covert. You'd wander into the sewers without him, catching zero flack from the other mandalorians, and built relationships with other Mandos. You'd both long since given up on correcting folks who referred to you as a couple because it honestly didn't matter anymore. Neither one of you cared enough to tell them it wasn't the case anymore.

It was nice, honestly. Not much had changed with the kid. You remained reluctant to interact with him at first, just as Din had. Holding him at arms length until you just... didn't anymore. Much like Din had. You raised your white flag and began to dote.

Din would tease you about it but you honestly didn't care. It sparked deeper conversations between you both. Questions like: Did you ever want kids? Or where did you used to think you'd be at this point in your life. Sometimes he'd surprise you with his answers.

Sometimes he'd say these insightful, soft musing that surprise you. Most often though it was grunts and chuckles rather than actual words.

Din was acting weird again. It'd go on a few days and was bothering you. Had it been months of this on again off again dance? You had no clue. Taking care of the ship and the kid was a full time job. Especially while you both bounty hunted.

The kid had gone down for a nap so now was your opportunity. Normally you respected boundaries bit something felt wrong. He had no problem with the kid. Just you. You'd tested it several times so now you'll strike.

As the door to the cockpit slides open Din's body tenses.

"Okay, start talking. What the fuck is going on?" You demand, stomping up to his side. "How did I piss you off this time?"

"What? No. Nothing." He insists, already standing. You shove him down forcefully.

"Don't you lie to me, Din. If I have to follow you throughout the entire ship to get you to tell me I will. You know I'm just as stubborn as you. Talk."

He sighs, helmet tilting down.

"I got hit with that biodart, right?" You nod.

"Like six months ago, yeah." The biodart that scared you half to death but turned out to be an olfactory overdrive with better hearing. It's intent was to overwhelm someone long enough that they could get away. Din complained at first nearly fainting from the saturation but it had its perks. It settled but he was still a hound with that nose to an extent. You had to get used to unscented products so you didn't offend his nose.

You're eyes widen. "Do I stink right now?" You demand, lifting your arm.

"No- not necessarily-" he argues.

"Not necessarily!? Din! If I stink just tell me!" You cry at him, tugging on your top and lifting an arm to search for your B.O. It's strange that he was bothered on the ship with it when you'd been sweaty and bloody around him on missions no problem.

"Cya'rika," he sighs, waving your arms down.

"I'll go shower-"

"Stop." His voice thunders in the cockpit and you freeze. "It's a smell, yes. But... but not like that." You shift uncomfortably.

"Huh?" You demand. "What's that mean?" Din squirms. Actually squirms in his chair, reaching over to fiddle with the controls.

"It's going to make you uncomfortable."

"Oh, for fucks sake, just tell me what I can do to make you stop avoiding me for days at a time." He sighs, shoulders sinking and refusing to look up at you.

"It's your pheromones. They change." You move to stand in front of him, crossing your arms.

"Elaborate."

"I don't know, okay? You just... smell different."

"I stink, then," you insist, frustrated and throwing your hands up again. They smack back down on your thighs.

"No," he murmurs. "I... I think... I think you might smell... fertile." The cockpit is silenced for a moment as you absorb that information. He spares a glance up at your shocked face, watching your reaction.

"Uhhhhhhh," you start with a blink. "Youre... smelling my... ovulating?" You ask.

"Yeah," he hums. "At least I think so... its... its different," he grumbles. Slowly you settle into your chair behind him and he swivels.

"What... what's it smell like?" You ask.

"Ovulation?"

"Well... what do I smell like. What's the difference?" He shifts uncomfortably.

"Like... like you. It's not easy to describe. You always smell the kids head right?" He asks. You nod. "It's like me smelling your head. Like when you wake up and you smell like sleep. It's impossible to describe."

"And.. when I ovulate?" Din's quiet for a moment, helmet twisting toward his dash.

"You smell kind of sweet. Like... like flower blooming, I guess."

"And that's bad?" You ask.

"It's... overwhelming. Kind of clouds my head and it's... actually really nice."

"Oh."

The silence is deafening. You feel your pulse pick up and he gives a strangled groan. "It's pretty strong right now, can you head down?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah, I just..." you say as you stand, fiddling with your fingers awkwardly. "Does showering help?" Din's helmet shakes.

"It seeps out of your skin. It's everywhere you go. It..." he trails off, "I can't focus at all. I thought I was getting sick."

"What do you mean?" You ask quietly. "What were the symptoms?" He sighs, twisting fully towards you.

"I can't think. I get headaches. I actually get really irritated by people. Don't want to be around them at all." You can't help but crack a smile at him. Trying to suppress the rising giggle is hard as your hand flies to your mouth. "What?" He groans, exasperated.

"Nothing." Your giggle breaking through says otherwise.

"Not 'nothing', you womp rat. Answer." You kick you rock on your feet before grinning at him slyly.

"Din, babes, it sounds like I'm making you sexually frustrated." He bristles at that.

"Get to the hull," he growls but you know he'll never actually do anything but grumble like an old man.

"You gonna stare at my ass as I go?" You tease, twisting. He turns his chair away with the crossing of his arms.

"Out."

"Just hit a brothel when we land."

"It doesn't work like that!" He snaps. You roll your eyes leaning on the back of his chair. "When I'm not around you I'm fine. It's just your smell. Besides, no brothels. Too risky."

"Oooooooh," comes your teasing lit. "Din's got a crush on me, Din's got a crush!" Your singing has him swing to glare at you. You know he is even if you can't see his face.

"You're a child."

"Yes, yes, I am," you announce, seeing the way he just sinks in the chair. "But it's fine, you big lug. I'm just happy I wasn't doing anything to piss you off."

"You are now."

"That's on purpose." He grunts in response to you and ignores the obnoxious kiss you deliver to the side of his helmet.

"Stop, your going to saturate my armor." You chuckle, drawing back.

"I think I could probably find a doctor on Nevarro to prescribe me some form of birth control if that's what you want." You swear he stops breathing and when he answers he sputters.

"Y-you don't- I mean- that's not... I would never make you do something like that." His declaration felt off. There was some kind of miscommunication as you giggle. That is evident.

"Hey, sweetheart," you coax for him to look at you. "Hormonal birth control works by giving you false ovulation. I wouldn't actually be releasing an egg so hopefully it wouldn't give off my pheromones like now." He seems to choke at that.

"Oh... okay," he relents. But again something sparks in your brain. He meant something else. You don't have time to stop the surprised look on your face.

"Din," you start carefully, "Did you think I was offering to sleep with you?"

He's completely still - not even breathing for a moment. When he does, he's panting nervously but not speaking. You don't remove yourself from him, just wait patiently for his response despite already knowing the answer.

"Would you want to?" You prompt gently. In your peripheral vision, you see his hands tighten into fists over his lap when he still doesn't answer you glance down at his lap for a moment and then swing a leg over both of his. He presses back against the chair as you settle on top of him. "I won't be offended either way."

He draws in a shaky breath. "I don't want to make things messy between us."

"Din, we have a kid," you point out, "he's as much yours as he is mine. Things are already messy but that's life. Don't put off your own needs just so you can put everything in its own little box, okay? That's not good for you."

"And if you decide you don't want to?"

"Then we don't do it?" You scoff.

"Not what I meant," Din shifts under you for a moment, dropping his hands down to drop in his lap before quickly removing them like he'd forgotten your thighs were slung on his. You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. "I've never... with someone."

"Like... ever?" You prod.

"Like ever. Brothels are too risky."

"What about other Mandos?"

"It's frown upon if your not married. I've never been interested in being married." You nod at him. It made sense.

"I've only ever been with one person before," you offer.

"But if it's not good - if I'm not good... I don't want you to hate me."

"Hate you? Din, there are only three things in this universe I hate, what are they?"

"Crooks, cons and when you touch something wet unexpectedly," he sighs out.

"Exactly! Everyone's different. What one person might like, someone else might not, ya know? If you're worried about it being good, then I'll show you what I like. And if it's bad? Who am I gonna tell? The kid? Kagra?" Din sighs at you softly.

"How would I know I'm ready for that?" He asks. It cools you some, you ponder quietly for a moment.

"I suppose, if you feel safe and comfortable with the person." He nods slowly.

"People... they make a big deal out of it. Is it as good as they say?" You shrug in response.

"Depends. Sometimes it's really nice. Sometimes not so much. It can be kind of gross. Kind of ugly. It's scratching an itch though."

"You're really selling me on this," he quips.

"I'm not trying to sell you on anything. I'm just giving you my experience." Din nods slowly. "I'm not here to convince you to. I'm here to support you and give you things you need. To make it easier." He hesitantly cups your face.

"Are you sure you'd want to? With me?" You snort at him, wrapping your fingers around his chest plate and pulling yourself close.

"Din, I had the biggest crush on you for the longest time. You and me, we could be anything we want to be. You just tell me what you need from me." He hums in response as he tests the waters by thumbing your cheek. It makes your eyes close.

"Can we? Now? It hurts with you being so close."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then." At one point you may have been giddy. But the comfort you'd built with each other soothed you to a flattered ease. "Kids asleep in the bunk though, is this okay? Is there anything you don't want me to do?"

"What is there?" You nod slowly as you realize how little experience he's actually got.

"Okay, how about for now I just use my hand, yeah?" He gives out a shakey breath. "Take the edge off."

"That's okay." You nod.

"Show me then, what you like." You think you might hear a soft gulp muddled with his modulator. The leather of his glove squeaks as his fist tightens by your cheek. You take the lead and raise your hands to one of his, gently prying it open to lay the back of yours in his. "Show me." He gives off a little breath and then brings your hand to his chest.

The chill of beskar bites at your fingertips, cutting into your palm as he guides it lower. You try to keep your eyes level with his visor as you continue and keep a cool expression. Something open and inviting hopefully.

But you can't help the gasp that leaves your mouth and your widening eyes as he wraps your smaller hand around the hard appendage flagged between you. Trapped between the fabric below.

Your gaze falls down to verify what you were feeling and - oh yep. Din Djarin was unfairly enormous. "Oh, you're big," you murmur and he gives you this little noise. A tiny ah! as you give him a soft squeeze.

"Do you like that?" He asks, his voice ragged.

"I'd certainly like to try it," you reply in a softer voice as he urges you to squeeze him harder. You soak up his heavy breathing as you touch on him. Fingers stroking and squeezing him.

"Can I..." he starts. You tilt your head when he trails off.

"Can youuuu... what?" You ask.

"Its... its tight right now. Can you touch it directly?" You smile and hum at him.

"Can I? Are you okay with that?" You squeeze him and he gives a groan.

"Shit, please?" You peel back the little strip of fabric that covers his fly before lowering the zipper. Din's breathing is getting even heavier as his shoulders rise and fall. He gasps before giving a higher noise of relief when you pull him out of his flight suit.

He springs into light, tip wet and red. He was thick too. Thicker than he had any right to be. You raise your hand to your mouth, drawing a wet tongue over your palm. He jerks and gives a loud moan when you stroke him like that, cursing to the gods above. His hands grasp at the edges of his seat.

When he spread his thighs you slip, gasping and planting your hands on his thighs as you sink down in between. His hands snatch onto your back and you both chuckle when your stable. "Oops." His breathy chuckle soothes you for a moment as you try to adjust in his lap.

"Sorry," he hums and you settle close enough to sink between his thighs but still be supported in his lap.

"Do you want to see my boobs?" You ask too suddenly and his chuckle stops dead. "Too soon?"

"No. I mean- not too soon." It makes you grin at his helmet and you reach down to the hem of your top and draw it up over your head. Din's hands draw absent-mindedly over your thighs as you unhook the bra and let your breasts fall free.

"Can I touch?" He asks. It thrills you as you beam up at him. Your response is planting your hands on either of his hips to push them together before puffing your chest towards him. You even let your head fall onto a shoulder as you do. "Oh..." he muses softly. A movement lower makes you glance down. He's removing his gloves.

You'd seen his hands on rare occasions. He breathes out raggedly when his hands meet them. They're damp with sweat but warm and smooth. Your eyes close appreciatively at the gentle contact. He tests the weight in his hands, gently squeezing. You give him a delighted sigh.

The ovulating would explain why they were so sensitive right now. You give a soft cry when he rubs his thumbs downwards over the hardened nipples. He pauses before doing it a second time, earning a second reaction similarly. It's kind of nice, to let him play and explore with you in this way.

It's Din. You're not trying to impress him in a way you once would have. Instead this just felt like a new chapter. There was no wishing this had happened sooner because it wouldnt have been the same. You wouldn't have enjoyed it so freely as you did now. His touch would have been made your heart thunder nervously in your chest.

When he pauses you peel your eyes open to meet his visor. "Are you nervous?" You ask. He's quiet for a moment.

"Not anymore. Not with you." He admits. "Maybe a little worried I won't be any good." That makes you smile warmly at him. You reach to cradle his the curve of his helmet under his visor.

"There's nothing to be worried about here. Just explore, enjoy. There's no rush. There's nothing you have to do, okay?" This time, he visibly relaxes.

"Okay," he agrees, leaning his helmet into your hand. "I want to touch you for a while."

"I'd like that."

One hand of his slides down to cradle you around your waist. He slips around you and gently drags you up against his chest. It's intimate. Milky.

His other hand turns over and he's using his knuckles to glide over your skin. Not just your breasts. Din was truly exploring you - mapping you with soft strokes. He thumbs around the hollow of your throat. Pads of his fingertips glide over your clavicle like he's savoring the taste of it. Knuckles brush over the curve of your breasts. You have no idea how much time passes as you soak in his gentle caresses and stroking.

"You're so soft." When he speaks it washes over his vocoder like rocks in a creak. It's cool and refreshing to your overheating skin. "Is this what it's always like? I just want to wrap up in you forever. So warm." His words short circuit your brain as he traces down your arm with his fingers.

Your neck feels like it can't hold up your head anymore. You tilt your forehead toward him and are surprised when he meets you halfway. A soft thunk of your temples pressing together. Your faces twist towards each other.

His touch too welcoming to be effectively driving you wild. It was addictive. Intimate. More than you bargained for. But you were far from complaining.

"I never expected your hands to be so smooth," you murmur, mind swirling deeper into his whirlpooling sensual touches. It was hard to not drown in these hazy pools of heat against him. His palm skirting up over your abdomen. "I thought they'd be calloused and rough."

"You've imagined me touching you like this?" He inquires softly. You bite your lip when his hand has returned to your nipple again; the soft pinch he gives it has you giving a little jerk against him.

"Yeah, a lot."

Your bare feet lift off the grated floor to curl in the air when his thumb decides to circle your areola slowly, with feather light touches.

"What else have you thought about?" You gasp when he gives a light smack to your breast just to watch it bounce. He repeats it and your surprised to find just how much you like it. You can feel his cock bounce against your belly at the sight.

"Everything," you sigh, reach for the appendage you'd nearly forgotten about. He shudders when you give him a gentle stroke. "Use the thought of you to get off sometimes." His breath hitches and his arm wrapped around your middle drifts lower. He palms your ass and drags you further up his lap.

"Think about you most of the time. Even before the biodart I used to think about you. I used to think it was just because you were the only woman around, but it's also just... its just you. The smell. It's just you." That turns your belly nice and low. You hitch closer, pushing your toes against the floor for leverage to push your pelvis against where he's exposed. "Fuck," he hisses. "Do you like this? Is that why the scent is everywhere?"

"Probably," you huff with an amused grin. "Can I show you something?" He's body straightens to attention.

"Anything," he prompts. Popping the button on your pants gives enough room for your next move. You pull his fingers away from your breast and guide it lower. His visor follows it, his fingers dipping below your waistband at your gentle coaxing.

You don't expect his broken groan, but it's rewarding when he dips a finger in between the folds. You release his hand to let him explore on his own again, letting him poke and prod blindly.

Searching fingers spread and easily part you, slipping. "Wait...," he murmurs softly. "Where's the... there?" He offers as he slips a finger inside you. You gasp, hands snatching up the fabric at his sides. "Oh, fuck."

"Do you like it?" You ask.

"This will fit me? It's so tight." His gentle curiosity is as endearing as his unwittingly sexy dirty talk. You can't help but whimper at that.

"It's designed to push out another person. I think I can take you with a bit of elbow grease."

"You're sure? Then it stretches?" As he asks he pushes in a second finger. Not stroking or rubbing, just soaking inside you. Absorbing the heat and the spasms. You let out a moan when he tests his theory of you stretching, parting you on his fingers.

"Ah, Din!" You whimper. He preens at that. Postures and prides.

"Could you take me now? Would I stretch you too much?"

"Keep talking like that, please," you urge. He makes a noise of appreciation.

"How do you want me to touch you?" He asks. "Show me?" He's an eager student - fingers stretching you apart. It makes it hard to stand, you give a half-gasp when his fingers slip out of you. You don't miss him staring down at his fingers rubbing his thumb on his wet fingertips to feel the lingering residue.

"Care to help me with these?" You ask, and he's eagerly reaching forward to tug your pants off you. It makes you giggle but he pauses when he's ruched them down to your knees.

"Is... is this okay? Should I go slower? Am I doing something wrong?" He demands from you.

"No, no!" You cry, grasping his shoulders and staring into the depth of his visor. "I like that you're excited to see me. To touch me. It's real."

"Of course it's real," he breathes in response, standing up and towering over your nearly naked form. If you weren't so turned on, it'd make you laugh at the scene, Mando with his twitching cock against your belly.

"I like it. This is fun, ya know?" Din's breath shudders and he pulls you tight against him.

"Yeah, I usually have fun with you." That makes you beam. His words couldn't have been sweeter, warming you from the inside and making you molten. "Now can you show me how to touch you?"

Well, he was nothing if not pragmatic. You suppose it's a good thing he's so excited to have you. You bite your lip, nodding up at him eagerly.

It's cut short when you find the cockpit spinning and your stomach lurching. Din plants you down in his seat before kneeling in front of you. You burst into genuine laughter when he turns his head lamp, ready to burst at the seems. "Put that damn thing away!"

"I want to see, show me!" He insists, grasping your hands gently and dragging them down your belly.

"You can see just fine without it, you're going to make me feel like I'm getting a pap smear!" He sighs, reaching up to turn it back off.

"What's a pap smear?"

"A cervix exam where they scrape the vagina to check for abnormal cells, women have them yearly. I'm gonna tell you now, the headlamp stays off during sex, okay?" You giggle.

"Okay," he relents.

"Good boy," you chirp before shimmying your pants and underwear off to leave you completely bare. You open your legs up for him.

Finally relaxing back against his seat, you let your hands drift lower and he's drawn in immediately. He watches as you dip your fingers within your labia. "I think I like you touching me more," you urge as your two fingers dip inside. It's lack luster compared to his thicker digits.

"Why?"

"Your fingers are thicker, you reach deeper than I do," you whimper as you slowly begin to pump your fingers. He makes a choked sound as your pussy squelches. Kneeling, hovering closer, he plants his hands on your thighs.

"Where do you want me to reach inside you?" He rasps. "I've heard there's a place that feels really good."

You nod eagerly at him. "Give me your hand again," you urge, allowing him to replace your lacking fingers. He groans when his fingers sink into you, this time he's pumping them slowly like you were. You give a low moan, soaking up the lovely friction he's giving you. "That's so good," you murmur as your eyes slip shut.

You gasp and jerk when he begins to mix his stretching fingers and the pistoning of his hand.

"Like this?"

"Mhmm." Your head falls back.

"Show me the spot." You pant under him for a moment and then reach down to twist his palm heaven bound instead.

"Now, just - uh - curl your fingers and- NGH!" Din didn't need much guidance from there. Not when he was putting the pieces together. He was rubbing and pressing on your g-spot so much fast than you anticipated. It had your eyes watering in pleasure.

Your left panting and moaning under him. "Harder, please, please, Din." He nudges faster too with it as you squirm beneath him.

"You're so pretty like this."

You didn't need him to tell you that. You tighten on his fingers as he murmurs softly to you.

"Here," you murmur, dragging his hand up your thigh. You move his thumb to where you need it most, guiding him to circle it.

Your thighs tremble when he follows the movement with slow precision. Slowly applying more pressure while he pushed his fingers as deep as he could. He's good. He's so good that your quickly feeling the rise of an orgasm.

You give a louder moan when he pauses just to push a third finger in and he gives a mighty groan. "Bet you taste as good as you smell. Bet it'll be a real squeeze for my cock if you can barely fit three fingers." he rumbles. That breaks you. Your legs try to clamp shut as you try to muffle the wail you give with the back of your hand. "Are you...? Oh shit-" he gives a broken groan and begins to pause.

"No! No! Don't stop!" You cry, reaching for him until he's finger fucking you nearly too hard but fuck if it doesn't feel good. It's not until you're overstimulated and twitching at every movement with little whimpers that he slows and drags his fingers out. He let's you come down slowly, rubbing your quaking thighs when you slump and pant.

"Maybe I should do this to you more often, you're so quiet right now." His taunting earns him half a glare from.

"You... can fuck me... if you want?" That seems to rile him up in the right way.

"You could barely fit my fingers. Won't it hurt?"

"I've never minded a challenge. Just go slow, okay?"

"Then come down here," Din insists. So you follow his words, sinking on jellied legs into his lap once more.

"How do you want it?" You prompt. "On top? On bottom? Do you want to be behind me?"

"All of it." It makes you smile at that.

"Then come down here," you tease, leaning back to lay on the cold floor. He's quick to crawl over you. "Come on, we've got our whole lives."

He crawls on top of you, cock prodding your oversensative cunt. You let him try to line himself up without his hands at first. "Here," you offer, licking your palm wettly and then stroking him. He shivers and then let's you guide him to where his head notches on the still pulsing hole.

Your cunt gives easily for him. Both if you gasping when he unintentionally sinks to the hilt with only a burning stretch that he offered.

The moment stills as he stares down at you, gasped and stretched on him. Your arched, gasping at the fullness you're trembling on. The burn has your eyes watering.

"Can I?" He rasps, voice straining. It takes you too long to answer as you take slow breathes. "Please, cyare. Can I? Please?"

It's hard to focus on his words when he's stretching your cervix back as far as it will go. How long had it been since something had been deeper rather that stretching you with width.

Finally, you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. "Yes."

He wastes no time before siding back enough that he catches his head on your rim. This time he sinks into you so slow. It's sickeningly slow and you arch up against him.

You were wet but not enough for him to glide perfectly. You get a rough friction as he slips back inside. He meets the end of you and keeps going. It hurts a little but it's still so good. You like it. Din's whole body curves as he presses into you as hard as he can it has you moaning loudly when he anchors into with the weight of his hips. "Shit-" you wince.

"Am I hurting you?" He frets, relinquishing the force of his slow thrust.

"I like it when it hurts a little," you promise, offering him a drinking grin. He shakes with that.

"Tell me if it's too much, baby," he whispers. And then he does it all over again. After a few of the slow thrusts he groans. Everytime he presses into you in nearly feels that way. But you adjust quickly to it. There's more satisfaction to it now as he jostles you're internal organs.

"You want to go faster?" You offer weakly.

You don't expect to have his thighs raise up to cradle yours over him as he tightens his hold on your waist. Your hips are lifted off the floor while he's still inside you. There's an odd squeal that leaves you at the sensation. Winding your legs around him as you feel him adjusting for a more powerful stance. He was going to rail you into the next planet. It was going to be delicious.

A wail leaves you on his first thrust. He was dragging you into the movement, spear you down onto him. You hands grasp at the fabric just under his pauldrons. There's a feral groan that rumbles out of him. His hips carve into yours roughly as he repeats the act over and over.

Your cunt flutters - tightening around him when he angles just right.

"Oh fuck!" He roars, trying to rear back but you'd tightened around him instictuallu. His whole body tightening on top of yours as he jerks to a pause. You feel your eyes rolling back into your skull as he grinds as deep as he can - pressing into the spongey spot he'd fingered only a short time before. Something twitched deeply inside. Heat spurting. "Shit, that was too quick," he curses, panting into your shoulder. He groans rocking shallowly against your fluttering walls. Not even thrusting, just adding pressure. His grasp forcing you flush with his hips.

You whimper at him as he sinks into you, relaxed. "Usually is the first time." He sighs, shaking his head against your shoulder and then tucking his crown against your chest.

"I'll touch you more. Make it good for you." He promises.

"Nah, nah you don't have-" He's jerking off you quickly and it shocks you.

"Oh, fuck!" He hisses, jerking out of you like he's burned you, prying your legs open to angle his visor down at your weeping cunt. "Shit, shit- I wasn't thinking clearly. Fuck - I was thinking but...," he trails.

He'd come inside you. Because you let him sleep with you. To help him not be so overwhelmed with your scent. Because you were ovulating. He'd come in you and you were ovulating. "I... I didnt think about it either." Your offer has his visor bearing down your face harshly.

"I was thinking," he repeats, fingers tightening under your knees. "All I could smell was you ovulating. I knew. I was thinking about it the whole time."

That sinks your gut down like a rock in water. You find the delight burning in your chest much the opposite reaction to what you expected yourself to have. "Oh." You murmur. You're blown away by the debauchery and depravity that is you being incredibly turned on by this fact rather than be appalled. Your cunt is tightening around nothing and leaking more of what Din spilled inside.

"I probably just got you pregnant and all you have to say is 'oh'?" He demands. You gulp.

"I... kind of liked it."

The cockpit is silenced. The flashes of hyperspace illuminate you both. A long string of snarled Mando'a rumbles around as your manhandled back onto a rock hard cock. It doesn't stop as he begins again, pushing out his spend with more harsh thrusts. Basic occasionally slips out of his mouth. Filth spilling into the air and tainting your opinion of him.

You're going to look so good carrying my baby. Tattoo my mudhorn on you. Look at you, so happy to give me whatever I want. You're so happy to please me that you'll just let me pump a baby into you if I wanted to. To expand my clan. Would you let me?

"Would you let me?" He punctuates with a hard grind into your hips. "Tell me, pretty girl." He's feral on the smells and tastes and sensations. Lost in the tight heat thats pounding around him.

"Want it," you whimper, nearly lost for words un how good the wet stretch of him had been. You couldn't find it shameful. It felt to good for that. Deeper, you just want him deeper. You want him to hook in deep inside you and grow. You want to swell with it. You want to want to never recover from this in a sick kind of way.

Those two words make Din pause at the end of you. Another whimper flutters out of you when slowly draws back from inside.

"Want my baby?" It's murmured lowly to you. It makes you nod slowly. "I'll give you many." You tremble beneath him as he just fucked into you slowly, rocking slowly. "I'll make your cunt all swollen like this all the time... all wet...all loose... Listen to it sucking me right in - it wants me doesn't it. Needs it."

God you really did love those moments Din surprises you with passionate thoughts. When you'd finally passed his grunting answers and painted you with his private thoughts. When you got to experience the beauty of his mind. It would always knock you flat when he did.

"Feel you in my throat."

"Not yet you don't."

His finger tips are chilly when they reach between you. Ice against the fire at the apex of your thighs. Cooling your skin as he rolls his thumb against your clit. It's devastating as he copies his earlier tactics. Angling his hips down and cock up.

Pressing up inside that spot. It sent shocks through you, burning you from the inside out. You can just grasp at him and his armor through it, cramming yourself far enough down to bruise some organs. You arch away from the floor..Choking your cunt around him when you come. It rips through as you sob into the air and milk him into you. His twitching muscles jumping as he slipped out of you, overly sensitive.

You're buzzing beneath him, staring up at his visor and wondering what color his eyes are for the millionth time. "That... was good."

"Good." He shifts above you, proped on one elbow as he reached under his helmet. It takes you a second to realize what he's doing. The sight of his lips, plush and curved artistically, joined with a squared stumbled jaw, sends you gasping and looking away quickly. Squeezing your eyes shut.

"Din!" You gasp, more out of shock. There's a metallic thump close to your head.

"Open your eyes, so I can marry you, clutz." His sigh pierces the air and your not used to being able to smell more than a whiff of his natural heady scent.

You do as he commands, fluttering your eyes open at him. Brown. His eyes are brown and vulnerable. He was stunning. You barely register you're promising him vows in mando'a - to lost in every line and curve of his face. Details you never even thought to imagine. The patchwork stubble, if he had crows feet, if he had big ears or if his head was shaped funny from the helmet. It was not, in fact.

He was breath taking.

"I like your face," you whisper to him in a quiet silence. "Why did you have me marry you?"

"Because I want to kiss you. All the time." It's a blunt response paired with an expressive sass. Twisting of his lips, holding of his eyes, tilting of his brows. It makes sense. He's never had to learn to guard it. He's got a nervous energy that melts you.

You're forced to laugh a little. "I suppose that's the best answer I could hope for," you hum, lifting your head towards him. "Let me teach you, yeah?"

Taglist:

@lxdyred, @boliv-jenta, @amidjarin, @qhbr2013, @buckybarneshairpullingkink,

[satoru-is-the-way]

FANFICTION

SPOILERS FOR DOCTOR STRANGE AND THE MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS!!!!

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SINCE NO ONE ELSE HAS...

¡John Krasinski!

Reed Richards x Reader 

The One Exception

part 1

(Mentions of Stephen Strange x Reader)

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: REED RICHARDS LIKE THIS MAN HOT, Arguing, Violence, Blood, Death, and the reader being overpowered (lol) SMUT IN PART 2 EHEHHEHEEH. SO YA SAFE FOR PART 1 Me being lazy and not going to spell check rn. I will soon LMAO

𝑨/𝒏: Hello everyone! I am so sorry my Moon Knight people. I have been so busy with my Doctor Strange needs I simply had no motivation until late. After MOM though I will be doing many doctor strange fics and mainly focus on him, plus the characters in the movie. EVENTS WILL BE CHANGED/Out of order for plot sake.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You are one of the original members of the Illuminati. For many years Reed Richards had been in love with you despite Stephen Strange owning your heart. Years after Stephen's death you finally have been moving on. However, this new 616 variant catches your attention and Reed does not like that.

(Gif by me 💅)

Most the gifts have my @ marvelsimp tiktok logo except like a few I did post a mini gift set.

(Y/n) (L/n) walked into Reed's lab, being somewhat of a scientist herself, but preferably his assistant during free time. However, not much freedom for extra activities is given to members of the Illuminati. (Y/n) felt like that was a long and complicated story. Which it really wasn't. It started many years ago when her previous lover, Doctor Stephen Strange, had developed an idea of heroes uniting so that when the earth, or universe, needed them they would be there. It consisted of herself, the Phoenix, Charles Xavior, Captain Peggy Carter, Mordo Sorcerer Supreme, Captain Marvel, and Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four. She had fought battles alongside each member but never as a collective group. They functioned accordingly and fairly. Earth has been saved countless times against powerful enemies, such as Thanos...A topic (Y/n) avoids.

For the last couple of months, the unofficial couple, Reed and (Y/n), have become close. More time was spent together on short missions and in his lab. They each came out of long-term relationships. Reed and Sue were the ideal couples. Always by each other's side. Worked in sync like Stephen and (Y/n) once had.  Yet inside Reed never could fully commit having romantic feelings for (Y/n). After Stephen's death, she became secluded from everyone except Reed. 

"Mr.Fantastic, odd seeing you here " She called. "How is my favorite scientist?" 

Reed looked up from his microscope green eyes flickering with excitement seeing (Y/n). He stood up 6'3" frame towering over everyone. "I am doing quite well! Here to assist me once more? With all this time you spend with me people may talk." Reed comments walking over to his desk and sitting the sample disks down. He never was afraid to say what is on his mind. The smartest man in this universe had confidence in himself and his mind. 

(Y/n) chuckled taking a white lab coat off the hanger. "Let them I have nothing to hide. Unless you are ashamed. Plus with your crazy ex-" 

"Oh come on. Sue is not crazy may be a regrettable choice to date a teammate. But not crazy. Coworkers should not date- in a way." Reed sighed knowing they both had romantic entanglements with fellow heroes and colleagues. Neither ended well for both parties. 

"Tell me about it. The last boyfriend I had kinda was murdered." 

"It wasn't murder he knew the consequences." 

"He was trying to save the universe Doctor Richards!" (Y/n) argued back. 

"So it's Doctor Richards now?! We voted on this. The tally was in and we had to do what is necessary." 

"What? To play God? To act like we are better than everyone else! You betrayed your friend. We all did! Like your friendship meant nothing." 

"I was the ONLY one who sides with you (Y/n). Shouldn't that mean something? Why don't you go yell at the others about your dead fiancee's problems." Reed sighed his good day ruined. 

"Whatever. You are always the same Reed. You care only about yourself." She threw her lab coat down and walked off. 

Reed slowly sat down on his chair. Looking at the papers in front of him. He felt pressure on his chest. Did he just ruin his chances with (Y/n)? "Fuck." Reed said shoving everyone off his desk in anger 

°(later that day) °

They had been called together by Mordo in an urgent message about a variant from earth 616 landing on their world. With time to spare before their meeting (Y/n) walked into Christine Palmer's lab to see who the visitor from 616 is. She froze to looking at Stephen Strange- except this one had a goatee. His ocean blue orbs meet her (e/c) spheres. 

"...(Y/n)?" He whispered walking to the glass. The last time this 616 Stephen saw his (Y/n) she had been knocked through a portal with him.

"Not...your (Y/n)...You are from 616...Are we- a couple on your earth?" She asked gently. So many properties occurred after her Stephen died. To see if in other realities if they were together or who dies first before things could take flight. However, the question seemed idiotic seeing the shining ring on his finger. 

"2 years now. Married for 1. Here?" He asked looking this (Y/n) over. She backed up and quickly escaped tears streaming down her face. Maybe she needed to sit this one out. 7 long years after her Stephen was taken. It took nearly 5 to look at other men. Reed had been that one exception. Perhaps that is what bothered her. To be in love with Reed Richards. Because 7 years is short right? She felt conflicted about exactly her intentions with pursuing Reed is. 

Not long passed as this Stephen stood in front of the Illuminati. Facing judgment, once again, the punishment would be death. The moment replayed in their heads as Charles showed what happened to their Doctor Strange. 

"There had to be another way- we can't - please...please dont do this." (Y/N) begged them. Stephen sat on his knees fingertips black from using the dark hold's magic. It was a selfish want not caring about the other universes he destroyed. All she wanted is him. 

"This is hard on everyone (Y/n)," Reed comments touching her shoulder but she shoved him back. 

"We can leave if you want. I and Captain Marvel can-" 

"Shut up Peggy!" 

"Please, my love calm down," Stephen whispered (Y/n) slowly walked toward him. "I know what must be done. It's how we keep order...I love you (Y/n) Strange. You are my one and only. I love you...I love you in every universe." He cupped her cheeks giving her a gentle kiss goodbye. "I'll always be by your side. In your heart. You own my love...I wish this didn't have to be so hard. I did it for you. Damn everyone else. In this world and in every universe you are the only person that matters to me."

"Stephen, I won't be able to love again. We can leave and find another universe." She whispered looking into his blue diamond eyes. "We can run-" 

"I have decided. I chose this fate because it's the only one where you live." He admits. "I will love you forever...I'm sorry my gem." With a passionate kiss that was when the memory ended for you. Stephen had sent you through a portal landing in the sanctum, alone, and without him. 

(Y/n) took a shaken breath looking at 616 Stephen. He felt pity on you. "They killed you. I won't be here to watch it again." She stood looking at him one last time before walking off. Before she even could make it out the door the alarms went off, every Ultron bot scurrying into. Instantly fire covers her body burning her clothes away and leaving the signature green and gold costume colors with the Phoenix emblem in black across her chest (basically Jean Grays' costume from the comics lol). Emily ran into the lab. Christine looked at her panicked. "Wanda is here to take Chavez. They went to stop her." She adds pointing to the direction where Captain Marvel had blasted Wanda to. (Y/n) nods and flew off landing just in time to stop Wanda. She had began to lift Reed into the air. "WANDA!" (Y/n) yelled and with a ball if energy hit the Scarlet Witch back into several walls. 

"Reed are you ok?" She asked pulling him close. He nods cupping her face after being moments away from death. 

"Bolt, Peggy, Charles...she killed them." He whispers. 

(Y/n) felt a pain shoot in her body, no...all her friends. The people she cared for. The Professor was like a father to her. Her eyes began to glow losing control of her powers. "This isn't our Wanda. 616 is dream walking remember that." He said. 

"I don't care. She killed my friends and almost you. Plus she is after the girl and 616 Stephen." 

The fight between a Phenoix and Choatic witch could not he decided who might win. Two forced equally balanced in strength. But mentally Wanda could overpower (Y/n)

"You know I could find a universe where you died." She comments getting up spitting blood out if her mouth. "I could even make you...a little hex of you own. A never ending life with Stephen and kids even." Wanda adds her devils temptation. "Or maybe add Reed...You would like that right?" She asked one step at a time walking closer. "To be with you lover again. Spend the life every variation of yourself has...but you. The unlucky one." (Y/n) was in a trance getting offered an apple from the devil herself. One simple bite and it call could be hers. 

A voice yelled her, called to her, Reed...Suddenly back to reality she narrowed her eyes. "I think I'm good." (Y/n) blasts Wanda away one more not knowing where. She falls to the ground Reed quickly by her side. Having someone in your head is never pleasant. (Y/n) groaned having a pounding headache. "Did...We win?" 

Reed sighed, "No. I have no idea...what is going to happen next. Wanda...is powerful. Dangerous. The alarms had stopped perhaps they left." (Y/n) rests her head against Reed's chest. He picks her up taking her to the medical bay. She remembers looking up studying his features. Fluffy brown hair with hints if white on the side, perfectly trimmed beard, plump lips and gorgeous green eyes…

Three days she had been in bed. Resting unable to do much of anything but sleep. A loopy and incoherent time blurry dreams and reality mixed into one. The chaos wielding witch sure did a number in the Phoenix who held back her own strength. 

"Morning." Reed said looking her over. Each day Reed came by or simply slept in the very uncomfortable chair. "Feeling better?" He asked checking your monitors. 

"Yeah I feel...more aware of my surroundings." (Y/n) sat up looking to Reed. He smiled unable to remove his eyes from the angel in front of him. 

"I love you." He blurts out catching (Y/n) off guard. "I mean. I have been in love with you  since the battle in New York." He confessed sighing deeply. "I knew Stephen had your heart. For 6 long years I watched you and him. Hell I even got with Sue in hopes to forget about you. No matter what I did I only thought about you! I sides with you because even if I couldn't have you I wanted you to be happy. To know in every universe you two end up together...It was my burden no matter what to always lose you." 

(Y/n) looked at him before pulling the man into a kiss. She whispered feeling his soft lips around hers. A gentle but passionate need stirred in her stomach. Her gentle hands tangle in his mess if brown locks. "I want you…" She whispers 

To Be continue. 

[deanwanddamons]

Right In Front Of Your Eyes

Summary: Y/N and Dean are best friends who work together. When she joins a dating app, will she meet ‘the one’ or has she already met him? 

Word Count: 2K

Pairings: Barista!Dean x Barista!Reader. 

Warnings: Fluff. Just fluff.  

Bingo Squares Filled: @spnaubingo - Coffee Shop! AU. 

@deanandsambingo - Bakery/Coffee Shop!AU

Song Inspiration: https://youtu.be/Q3tyfh0slEg

Right In Front Of Your Eyes - The Wedding Singer The Musical. 

A/N: This is just a little one shot that was written as a Galentine Fic Exchange in a discord server I am in. With a bit of editing, I have made it reader insert. 

A/N 2: As always thank you to my beta @winchest09. You are my cheerleader, my bestie and my constant support. I love you.  Coffee shop dividers by @firefly-graphics

My Masterlist 

Buy Me A Coffee 

“How about this photo?” 

 Y/N asked, as she turned her laptop towards her fellow barista and best friend, Dean. The coffee shop where they both worked was quiet, the lunchtime rush having ended over thirty minutes ago, their patrons retreating back to their busy lives. So, she was now taking advantage of the quiet environment and was asking the green-eyed man for his opinion. 

She needed a new picture for the dating site, ‘Find The One’. Y/N had been a member for a few weeks now, and had already had some dates after following up a couple of introductions. Yet so far, she hadn’t managed to find the one as the app had promised, and that was because she had already found him. It was a closely guarded secret that she kept to herself. Joining the site had been more of a distraction than a real quest to meet Mr Right. From the day Dean had started his employment with ‘From Bean To Cup’ two years previously, she had held a torch for him. A flame that was getting brighter with every passing day. 

They had hit it off immediately, thanks to having the same taste in many different things. So when it came to their job, they engineered the work rota so more often than not, they were on matching shifts just so they could be together. They both enjoyed the same TV shows, movies and classic rock music, which would result in them spending plenty of evenings hanging out together, drinking beer and playing pool (which to Dean’s dismay, Y/N was very good at, inevitably leading to her beating him on more than one occasion.) They fastly become best friends.

When Dean had met Lisa though, the time that they spent together waned. It only consisted of seeing each other behind the counter while they served lattes and flat whites. Y/N had pretended she was happy for him when he told her how he had met her. She faked a smile when he explained that while out for the evening  with his college buddies, a brunette had started to talk to him at the bar and they had swapped numbers. While he was telling her the story, his cell had beeped with an incoming text to which he immediately responded. This exchange had lasted for a few minutes until Dean announced he had arranged to see said brunette, who’s name was Lisa, once his shift was over. He seemed genuinely happy, so she upturned the corners of her lips, forcing a grin as she said all the right things, but deep down her heart had dropped into her stomach. She didn’t understand the emotion she was feeling, but as Lisa and Dean’s relationship developed over the next few weeks, she realized she was jealous. Not only was she missing her best friend, but she hated the fact that he was with another woman.

He had been seeing Lisa now for about six months, and they seemed pretty serious. Y/N, on the other hand, still hadn’t found anyone special. So deciding that she needed to update her profile, she wanted to get Dean’s opinion on which picture of herself to use. She still classed him as her confidant, even though their relationship was not as close as it used to be. 

“Yes, I like that one. You look really pretty. Use it,” he told her, clearing his throat slightly before sliding his hands into the front pocket of his apron.  

She smiled and nodded her head in agreement, then uploaded the image. Just as it loaded, a customer came to the counter, so she closed the laptop and took their order, putting her now updated profile to the back of her mind. 

That evening, as they were closing up the shop, Y/N’s phone pinged with an incoming message. It was a notification from the dating site; a member named ‘Benny224’ had requested a private chat. Swiping along the glass, she brought up his profile. He was good-looking; bright blue eyes, pleasant open features, and he was wearing a flat cap. His details explained he was from Louisiana but currently living in Lawrence and he was 36. Deciding to respond, she typed up a brief message just saying ‘hi’ and sent it. Closing her cell, she dropped it back into her apron pocket before she turned the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed.’

“You have a date?” Dean asked from his position behind the counter where he was cleaning the coffee machine. 

“Just a chat request,” she responded, “we’ll see how it goes.” 

Y/N had noticed Dean had seemed quite subdued the last few shifts she had worked with him. So, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him, she turned her key into the lock and pocketed the piece of metal before she turned to her friend. 

“Are you okay?” She inquired, walking further into the shop and towards him as she spoke. 

“Yeah.” He didn’t look up as he answered, continuing to wipe the now spotless serving area in slow, rhythmic circles. 

Pulling up a stool, she sat down, rubbing at her aching back as she did. “It’s me you’re talking to Winchester. What’s up?” 

Dean’s movements slowed as he inhaled a deep breath. “I’ve ended it with Lisa,” he finally admitted, placing the cloth over his shoulder and resting his palms on the wood before him. 

This was not what she was expecting to hear. “Wow. Okay. Can I ask why?” 

“Honestly?” Dean continued, making his way around the counter to join her on the other side. He too pulled up a stool and dropped heavily down on it next to her. “She wasn’t who I thought she was.” 

As he explained, his gaze was trained on his hands which were clasped in front of him. Taking the rag from his shoulder, he began fiddling nervously with the material. 

“What do you mean?” 

“She…umm…” he began, but stopped mid-sentence. “Never mind.” He stood, and moved swiftly across the room towards a round table before he quickly started to clean it. 

Following him, she rested her hand on his broad back and softly prompted, “Hey come on, you can tell me.” 

He stiffened and without turning towards her, his words came out quickly. “She wasn’t you.” 

Y/N froze. Had he just said what she thought he had. “I’m sorry. What?” 

“Forget it. Just ignore me.” He moved away from her, heading for a booth over the other side of the room, leaving his colleague and friend in shock behind him. 

“I’ll never ignore you,” she told him, her heart thumping in her chest as she began to process Dean’s words. It was then that she hurried after him, wanting a further explanation. “Please, talk to me.” 

He had paused at the booth and was hunched over the bench between the seats when she caught up with him. Turning to face her, he leaned against the edge. 

“Ever since you joined that dating site I…” He started to play with the cloth again, entwining it between his fingers, his eyes downcast. “…thinking about you going on dates with other men made me realize something. I was jealous. Even though I was with Lisa already.” He lifted his head, his green orbs meeting hers, which were wide with shock. 

“Jealous?” She asked, incredulity evident in her tone. She couldn’t believe what the man before her was saying. 

“Yep,” he went on, popping the ‘p’. 

“I don’t understand.” And she didn’t. She knew she had feelings for Dean, and would even go as far as to say she was in love with him, but had never thought he felt the same way. Was this him trying to tell her that he did? 

She took a step towards him, closing the distance between them. 

“We have been friends for a long time right?” He husked, his voice low as he dropped his head slightly so he stared down at the floor. “Well, I guess I have always had feelings for you, but I didn’t understand what they were until you started going on those dates. Then it occurred to me. I woke up one morning and just realized that the one I wanted was right in front of my eyes..” With those last words he looked up, his gaze on her now strong and intense. 

Y/N’s stomach flipped, her brain struggling to comprehend what had just left Dean’s lips. ‘He feels the same way as me’ ‘No! That’s not what he is saying’ were bouncing around in her mind, the contradictory sentences at war with each other. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her and she closed it again. 

“I’m sorry. Forget it.” Dean stood abruptly and marched past her, going back behind the counter. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder, before stomping towards the door. He gripped the handle and pulled it, then remembered she had recently locked it. He breathed in angrily, letting it out through his nostrils in a frustrated sigh. “Can you open it please?” 

She was rooted to the spot. The man she was completely in love with had just basically admitted he felt the same, and she couldn’t move. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ She chastised herself, willing her body to move, urging her brain to allow her to speak. She needed to tell him, needed to explain. Fishing the key out of her pocket, she walked over to him and the door. 

As she reached him, he wouldn’t look at her, continuing to stare out through the glass at the people passing by. He moved aside as she slipped the small piece of metal into the lock, but as he went to turn it and open the door, she pressed her hand against it. 

Stepping in front of him, she blocked his exit. He was a lot taller than her, so looking up at his freckle-adorned face, she reached up and placed her palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. 

“When you wake up suddenly and realize, the one that you want is right in front of your eyes.” She repeated his statement from earlier, her heart hammering in her chest. 

His eyes flung open at her words. “Really?” 

“Yes.” 

Their gazes held for a few seconds before she surprised even herself by pushing up onto her tiptoes, and kissing him gently on his plump lips. He kissed her back, lightly at first, before his tongue swiped across her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, allowing the embrace to deepen. His hand found the back of her neck, pulling her even closer to him, as her arms wrapped around his slim waist. They continued like this for a short while, simply making out, oblivious to the fact that anyone passing the shop could see what was going on through the glass door they were leaning against. 

Realizing this was probably not the best place to continue, Y/N regrettably broke the embrace. Dean smiled down at her, resting his forehead against hers. 

“You sure about this?” He asked, stealing another quick peck as he spoke. 

“100%.” 

“Me too.” 

“But I don’t think the whole of Lawrence needs to witness our make-out session,” she chuckled, taking him by the hand and leading him into the large storage cupboard at the back of the shop. He followed her willingly, his grin wide and mischievous as he quickly discarded his bag. 

As they reached the room, she paused to turn off the lights of the store. As the shop fell into darkness, she reached into her pocket, opened it to the Home Screen, and deleted the dating app. ‘Sorry Benny’, she thought ‘it was nice knowing you, albeit briefly.’ 

She didn’t need ‘Find The One’ any longer, as her future was right in front of her eyes.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please like, comment and reblog as FEEDBACK IS GOLD and is the fuel that keeps me writing. My tag list is open, so if you wish to be added, send me an ask HERE

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Drabble Darlings - @wingedcatninja​

[etheriaaly]

Just The Two Of Us [C! Tommyinnit x GN! Reader]

FLUFF TO ANGST (PLATONIC)  WARNINGS: Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, character death, cursing

Reader pronouns: They/them 

A/N: Hi, this is my first DSMP fanfic so uhh I hope u enjoy lmao. There might be grammatical errors so pls do not mind it :D

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ∣ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

—

[Y/N] already lost count of all the pranks and chaos they made with Tommy. They didn't like causing havoc or pulling pranks on people but if Tommy asked them to tag along, they would. Tommy is their best friend after all. Plus, where's the fun in life without a little risk?

[Y/N] was just at their Cottage house, peacefully making the potions that Quackity ordered just hours ago. Since [Y/N] is a skilled witch, it was no shock when they owned a Potions business. Everyone in the SMP server knows about this and they usually come and buy their potions. 

They were about to finish the last set of potions that Quackity ordered until they ran out of ingredients. "Dammit." [Y/N] muttered under their breath. They turned around and immediately went to find if they have any stock ingredients in their barrels or chests.

When they saw no stock ingredients, [Y/N] sighed and decided to do some last minute ingredients grinding. It was until they opened the door and saw Tommy standing in front of their house door.

[Y/N] knew that his presence is no good because that motherfucker is grinning ear to ear. They playfully groaned and asked, "What is it this time child?"

"Hey, I told you not to call me a child anymore!" Tommy suddenly protested, feeling insulted but went back to his sly grin and said, "Let's prank Skeppy and Bad." 

"That's a horrible idea." 

"Come on, bitch. It'll be fun." 

And they did come with Tommy. A couple hours had passed and [Y/N] had already forgotten about the ingredients they were gonna get for Quackity's potions. Tommy said that Big Q's order can wait but the prank can't. 

It wasn't long after Bad and Skeppy saw the two teenagers doing their little harmless prank on them. 

[Y/N] caught sight of the two and immediately tugged on Tommy's shirt. "Fuck, Tommy we gotta go." 

Tommy, unfazed and still focused on the prank, said, "Just a little longer." 

[Y/N] nudged Tommy's side using her elbows as the two teenagers can now hear Skeppy and Bad's incoherent yelling drawing closer and closer to them. 

"RUN!" [Y/N] yelled as they both left the things they used to try to prank BBH and Skeppy. 

The two let out a laugh as they ran away. Tommy constantly turned his head back to see if Skeppy and Bad are still after them. 

[Y/N] and Tommy continued to run even though Bad and Skeppy stopped coming after them. It wasn't until the two teenagers finally stopped running so that they could catch their breath. 

"What now?" [Y/N] gasped, who is still out of breath from both running and laughing at the same time. They looked at Tommy. 

Tommy grinned again and then grabbed their arm, "I have something pog to show you." 

[Y/N] didn't question Tommy and just let him drag them to a mountain. 

Once they have reached the destination, [Y/N] let out a 'wow'. The view is breathtaking and it is very peaceful. The mountain isn't that very far from the SMP but it looks like very few have come across this part. 

"So, what do you think?" Tommy asked, looking at the view. The view consists of the calming ocean waves and a peaceful sunsetting with birds passing by. 

[Y/N] turned to Tommy and smiled, "This could be our secret spot." They slowly walked towards the edge of the mountain cliff but were immediately stopped by Tommy. 

"Oh, [Y/N] wait. Be careful, the edge of the cliff looks really faulty." Tommy warned. 

[Y/N] immediately stepped back a little and took note of what Tommy said. But, they were still curious and looked down at the edge of the cliff, only to see the water from below. 

If someone would fall from this cliff and took a heavy impact on the water, that person wouldn't survive due to how high the mountain cliff is. 

[Y/N] then proposed, "You know, when things are stressful and stuff. We can just go here, sit in silence and look at the view as the wind or the waves takes away our problems for a while." 

"Just the two of us." The blonde haired lad said and then they both stood in silence, admiring the view and beauty of the server. 

Oh, if only you could turn back in time and relive this memory. If only things are still the same the way it was before. 

It's been so long since [Y/N] had fun and peace. Probably so many months since Tommy first showed them their secret mountain hangout area. 

[Y/N] currently stood still, gazing at the view that was once calm and peaceful but was now replaced with sounds of flying TNTs, fireworks and screams from the background.

They were in no state of mind as of the moment. They don't even know what to do anymore. A lot has changed ever since the wars, the exilation of Tommy. 

[Y/N] sniffed, wiping their tears using their now mangy sleeves caused by the current chaotic event. They continued to stare at the ocean, a potion of poison glistening in their hands. 

[Y/N] looked at the Potion of Poison that they were holding and pondered whether to drink it or not. 

Maybe it's best to end it once and for all. They don't have anywhere to go anyways. They don't have any friends or family to turn back to since everyone is against them or thought badly of them now. 

[Y/N] can't even go back to L’manberg as well since they're now a wanted criminal for breaking the laws and escaping from their house since they're supposed to be on house arrest for the crimes they didn't even do. 

They opened the cork of the potion, but they didn't drink it yet. They let their mind wander for a while and process everything that has happened. 

Maybe Dream was right. Maybe the people they loved never even cared for them at all. Maybe it was all just a lie. Maybe—

"[Y/N]." A familiar voice that they haven't heard in a while. 

It was windy. The cool breeze of air touched their skins. But along with the wind, there are particles of TNT or fireworks dusts. 

The [H/C] haired person turned around and saw their best friend for the first time in months. 

"Tommy." [Y/N] replied. Their voice were hoarse and dry. "What are you- What are you doing here?" 

"I could ask you the same thing." Tommy glared at them.

[Y/N] quietly groaned, closed their eyes for a while and pinched their nose bridge, still holding the potion on their other hand. "So, you believe all that shit?"

"Enough for me to believe the fact you tried to murder Tubbo, burn my invites and team up with Dream." 

Tommy added, "Maybe they were right about you. You're Dream's sibling after all." 

[Y/N] scoffed and threw their available hand around the air, "He may be my sibling, but we are never alike." 

"Why, [Y/N]? Why did you do it?" Tommy asked, hands gripping tighter on his sword. "Did Dream finally get into your head for you to commit these crimes? Or did you just do it because it's in your blood?" 

"You don't know a thing that happened," [Y/N] harshly spit back, completely trying to avoid the topic of Dream. "Of course you don't. You were exiled."

Tommy never understood why. Why had they turned like this? He felt rage and betrayal. During his exiled time, Tommy thought that they were gonna be that one person who would try to find him. Comfort him or even send him secret coded messages. But no, he received nothing. 

It hurts. Hurts like hell to know your best friend turned their back on everyone. A best friend that he has known for years. A part of him wants to believe they didn't do it but the proofs are enough for him to believe it was really them. 

"Well, you really can't blame me can you? You can only blame yourself," [Y/N] said. "This all started because of you and your stupid discs. All you ever care about is the FUCKING DISCS. Wars started, lives were lost, relationships were destroyed, all just because of those discs." 

They had never done this before. This was their first time just being angry and shouting at each other. Although this might be new to each other, it was obvious that they have been bottling up their emotions way too long. 

"You know what?! Things would be so much better if only you didn't exist." Tommy instantly regretted what he said as soon as he saw a potion glisten from [Y/N]'s hands. 

He may not be an expert but he knew well enough of the potions due to him hanging out too much with them before. "What are you doing?" Tommy immediately asked. "Is that a potion of poison?" 

"Nothing for you to care about." [Y/N] turned back towards the cliff and stared at the view once again. 

"Just the two of us again here, huh?" They said as they pulled the potion towards their mouth, just inches away from the lips now until Tommy hurriedly ran towards [Y/N] and tackled them. 

"What are you, an idiot?!" Tommy scolded as they both fought each other while trying not to fall from the cliff. He tried to pull the potion of poison away but it was hard since they kept gripping on it. 

It wasn't until Tommy was finally able to remove the potion from [Y/N]'s grasps. He threw the potion far away as it got smashed on the ground. 

The two of them were too busy fighting over the potion to notice that one of them is now standing on the faulty edge of the cliff. 

[Y/N] was on the edge of the cliff and accidentally backed away from Tommy, thinking there was still space. A loud shriek came out of their mouth.

Tommy immediately ran towards the edge, scrambled on his feet and looked down. Luckily, [Y/N] was able to hold onto the edge but their hands are shaky and tired from all the things that just happened. 

"I got you, I got you." Tommy frantically muttered, his breath increasing as to not knowing what will happen next. 

[Y/N] grip is slowly failing. Once their hands slipped, Tommy instantly grabbed their hands and tried to pull them back up. But, he too was tired from everything that has been happening. 

He tried to pull them up again but it was no use. Stress was adding up even more the moment they both felt the edge of the cliff shaking once more. 

Tommy can't do it anymore. So, he let out all the tears he's been trying to fight back. 

"It's gonna be okay, Tommy. Let me go." 

The blonde haired teen's eyes widened at [Y/N]'s statement. He can't do it. He can't bear to lose another loved one in his life. 

"I can't lose you too, [N/N]." Tommy croaked. 

The two might've fought just minutes ago but this is now a life and death situation. Problems and angst aside, they still care for each other. 

"You already did." Tommy's eyes widened in confusion and sadness. [Y/N] forced their hand to slip from his as Tommy tried to tighten it even more. [Y/N] had a few energies remaining, so they used it to push themselves off the cliff with their foot, making Tommy let go. 

For Tommy, everything is going so fast that his mind almost stopped working. 

But everything was in slow motion for [Y/N]. The fresh wind was so refreshing, almost making them forget what is currently happening to them. 

They closed their eyes, not wanting to see anymore reactions from Tommy. This is their end. This was meant to be. 

The moment [Y/N] chose to fall out from Tommy's grip, the blonde panicked and set aside all items he had with him. Without thinking properly, he lunged himself off the cliff. The only goal he had in mind was to save [Y/N] before it's too late. 

But he was, indeed, late. 

Everyone's communicator beeped. They all took at least some time to look at what the message could be on the communicator. As soon as everyone read the 2 words, their jaws dropped. 

[Y/N] drowned. 

[witchyfrankincense]

Losing A Bet.

Nanami Kento x fem!Reader

fanart by @sakimenz on ig

Summary: After drunkenly agreeing to a bet with Gojo Satoru and losing it, he'll have full control over your next actions. However, he is very aware of your inappropriate tension with your boss, Nanami Kento, and loves to play the Matchmaker.

(Basically the Tiktok thing where you go "Your hands are nice, can they be my necklace?")

Warnings: smut! 18+ content, rough sex, slight abuse of power, grinding, huge choking kink, Gojo being a little bitch, daddy kink, slight breeding kink, ceo Nanami, secretary Reader, kinda established relationship, Gojo is Reader's best friend, lots of teasing, dom Nanami, unprotected sex, some fluff, basically have fun!

A/N; Hey ya'lll! Super excited to be putting out content here - so here you go. A Nanami x reader, cause I'm a huuuge Nanami whore<3 If you have any suggestions, lemme know. Have a great day!!

❁❁❁❁❁❁

"I am absolutely not doing that."

<>

Betting always seemed like a very primitive thing. Either you win, or you lose. Basically, like a flip of a coin or a crystal pendulum on a wooden board. Nothing too hard or to struggle for – like mentioned before, a wind of fortuity. However, how could a person ever deal with starting a wicked, corrupt bet?

Would you just have to accept losing?

Now, to put this in simpler words. You had been Nanami Kento's secretary in his company for about a year now, and it has been, well, tiring. As hard-working and consistent as you were, it was still difficult to keep up with the God-awful amounts of work you had to complete. It was rewarding, of course, and you were nothing but content with the money you were gaining. That wasn't even the whole reason why you enjoyed your position so much.

It was Nanami, himself. Upon seeing him for the first time at the job interview, you've always found him to be slightly fascinating. Not only was he very pleasant to the eyes, he was also indescribably intelligent, and his strict, stoic demeanor drew you even closer.

When you first saw him, you had to take a minute of concentration so you could begin your monologue about your work ethic and values. He was intently listening to your words the entire time, weighing each statement to be either honest or fake. Even after you finished, he did nothing but lean back against his chair's headrest and nod, which, for him wasn't that characteristic. At least, you had decided on thinking that.

He had no other questions, as apparently your pre-written monologue fulfilled his expectations. 'I'm not exactly a talk person', he had exclaimed after some time of silence. 'I appreciate actions much more than empty promises.'

Nanami Kento was a man of his word. From the moment you started your position as his secretary, you had been doing nothing but work. However, it wasn't to say that he hadn't expressed his genuine gratitude towards you, because he had, and a couple of times, actually.

Over the year, you two formed a formal bond, where both of the parties exclaimed respect towards the other. You both even drank coffee in his office a few times – usually in the early morning, as Nanami had expressed his 'enjoyment your encouraging voice gave him on such dull, boring mornings.'

Maybe that meant he found you bright and entertaining? You never asked.

That's why, after a full year of working with him, you started to notice more microscopic details of him, started to observe him more often. Maybe you even noticed details about your own flawed well-being, which grew and blossomed into something much harder to ignore. It also increased to more than twice as big when you met him in the elevator two months ago.

~

"Good evening."

"Good evening, sir," you answered back to the dim voice as you extended your arm to press the elevator floor button. After pressing it, you stood back straight, rolling your shoulders back to slightly correct your posture. "Going home already?" Nanami asked, taking a step forward and tightening his hold on his bag. "Are you?" you eyed him from the side, leaning your hip against the steel-cold wall. "Yes."

You hummed, nodding. "Well, I walked past your office and noticed you gathering your things from the desk. I was about to ask if you'd let me leave earlier today. It's Friday, after all."

"It is," he replied, blinking along with the ding of the elevator as it arrived to your floor. You both stepped in, instantly turning around to face the now closing elevator doors. Once again, you leaned down, this time pressing the button titled floor zero. "So, would you? Let me, I mean." "Well, we are both going down, aren't we?"

You slightly smiled, looking up at him for confirmation. He also stared back at you. Muttering a small 'thank you', you shifted your weight on your right leg and leaned on the side of the elevator. The elevator went silent, forcing your heart to quicken its pace, for no reason other than the enjoyable smell of Nanami's cologne hitting your nostrils.

You subconsciously breathed in, swallowing. The light noise drew his attention to you, and you felt his eyes settle on your hair-covered face. It was partly a try at concealing your heating cheeks, for which, at this moment, you hated yourself like never before.

You flicked your eyes at Nanami's shoes mere moments before you felt him lean in to your side of the elevator space, hand slowly coming up to your overheating face. His fingers lightly grazed your cheek as he wrapped them around a curl of your hair, twirling it around his finger for a few seconds, only to then smoothly push it behind your ear.

You melted into the wall – supporting yourself on it since your knees threatened to give out. Your lips parted, a small noise, you weren't particularly sure of what kind, leaving your mouth.

"You have very good hair," you suddenly heard Nanami say, before his hand traveled down the remaining length of your loose hair, leaving right after it made contact with your clothing. You wanted nothing more than to keep your formality, and tell him a grateful 'thank you', but, for some reason, all you could do was lean into his warmth as his hand trailed away from you.

Falling back against the wall, you inhaled deeply, raising your eyes to the floor number as the elevator rang again. The doors opened – however, as soon as you shifted forward to exit the tiny containment, an arm stopped you. It was Nanami.

You threw him a slightly confused look, watching as he pushed the door close button with his knuckle. You took a step back, intently staring at his actions. Eyes widening, your heartbeat increased even more.

"I surely hope I'm not overworking you," he unexpectedly mumbled, taking a big step towards you and reaching his hand out. He stopped his walk only when you both were almost pressing against each other. Your breathing hitched, and Nanami noticed it. His hand fell on your left shoulder, however, soon slid down to your expressively beating heart. His palm pressed gently to your chest and you closed your eyes in defeat, being fully aware of how bad a situation this was.

"My, Y/N. Are you feeling okay?" he asked, eyes trailing down to yours, which were plastered on his fancy looking shoes.

"It's humid in here," you quietly answered, not daring to look up at him, as you were scared you'd embarrass yourself even more. You didn't expect the low scoff that came from the man in front of you. "Hm, yes," he expressed, his large hand leaving your chest and dropping to his side.

His other hand, however, rose to rest on the elevator wall above your shoulder. You accidentally made the mistake of getting so confused that you lifted your gaze to make eye contact with him. He seemed to enjoy said mistake and, when you looked back down at your shoes seconds later, the hand that previously monitored your heaving heart, was suddenly placed daintily under your chin.

Your breathing hitched again, and you felt a wave of heavy butterflies flutter in your stomach as he slowly raised your chin to his eye level. You felt yourself lean forward on his hand subconsciously. Nanami repeated his hum.

Your eyes met his and you swore he muttered 'fuck' under his breath as he noticed your extremely dilated pupils and glossed over eyes.

You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes.

"Have a good Friday," Nanami unexpectedly spoke, his face relaxing along with the grip on your chin. You nodded, fighting back the need to start laughing at your triumphant and somewhat comedic win. After all, you had been yearning for this kind of attention from your idiotically hot boss for the past ten months, and now...

Now he had you with your back pressed against the wall.

He must've noticed the shimmer in your eyes – his lip corners turning upwards. He stepped away, hand leaving your chin and once again dropping to his side. You turned to the elevator exit, side-eyeing him for a moment, only to let out a small chuckle and fix your shirt before opening the doors and stepping outside.

"Goodbye, Nanami," you exclaimed, flashing him a smile and leaving him standing in the elevator.

~

That elevator accident was left unspoken about from the day it happened, and no one else came to know it except you and Nanami. He seemingly made the best effort to pretend like whatever happened that time didn't.

That left you kind of frustrated at times – when you tried to joke about it the slightest bit, you were practically shoved away or left looking like an idiot as he pretended to not understand the joke.

Not to say that nothing else happened between you two – tensions were definitely high anytime you brought him the paperwork or consulted about a work problem. Being alone in a room with him was rather difficult but, sure, nothing had ever happened.

And the morning coffee that you two would have before the accident, slowly faded away into 'I'm busy' or 'I already had my coffee, sorry.'

Now, two months later, you were still playing the pretending game, however, you had met Gojo.

Gojo Satoru, being simply the worst wing man to anyone alive, since he'd definitely ditch his wing-man position and walk off to talk to other people or, even worse, ditch his 'good friend' status and run off with your date.

However, one thing that he was weirdly amazing at, was catching your glances at Nanami. Perhaps it was like telepathy – whenever you'd look at Nanami for even half a second, Gojo was already poking your shoulder with his finger, a grin painted on his face, and being awfully annoying.

But, it's not like Nanami never returned your stares.

He did, and pretty often. Sometimes his eyes would linger on yours for no longer than a moment, a bored tone added to them, and, sometimes, they would bore into your skull for longer than ten seconds, making you look away at how intense his gaze was. Seemed like the man didn't care for general public.

However, back to now. Now, ironically, it was a mighty Friday. And, actually, the clock counted the baring end of your shift, so you tended to glance at the time more often, later going back to your papers.

You swore you jumped when the door swung open, unsurprisingly showing Gojo walk through. You didn't bother to vocally attend to him, so you nodded instead. He smiled, walking to your desk and leaning down to pull out the client chair from beneath it. You continued concentrating on your work, glancing slightly at Gojo. He practically jumped on the chair, crossing his arms and spreading his legs indescribably wide, making you grimace.

"Sit normally," you spoke, noticing him scoff. "I am sitting normally," he replied, watching you shift a pile of papers into one big and tidy block. "You're awfully giddy today," you pointed out, stealing a look at him from behind your computer. His smile widened. "You should be, too. Your work ends soon." You nodded, tidying up your desk.

"Hey." The sudden announcement made your eyes narrow suspiciously and you looked up at Gojo again.

"You lost the bet," he expressed, displaying a bit too much excitement. "Pardon?" you grimaced, watching his face expressions. "You really don't remember? Come on, the bet we made last weekend. At that bar?" Gojo's shoulders dropped as your face didn't change. That was, however, until he mentioned the bar.

"You mean, when I was so drunk, I barely got home?" you asked carefully, leaning back in the chair. The man in front of you began nodding, and you let out a low sigh. "Remind me," you threatened, and Gojo grinned wider.

"The bet was about the number of times boss man would complain about you during this week. Remember?" he explained, waiting for your approval. You mimicked him and also crossed your arms. "First of all, no, second of all, Nanami?"

"Yeah!" Gojo dramatized, making you sigh again. You shook your head, playing with the bracelet on your wrist. "And?" "And," he sung out. "I bet that he'd complain to me, about you, roughly thirty times....you said ten. And...he complained exactly twenty-six times." Your face dropped, mind going blank at the statement.

"You counted..." "—Not only that, but I said that if I win the bet, you have to do anything I say. And, you know, vice versa."

"I agreed to this..." you exclaimed in disbelief the second time, Gojo cutting you off. "And so, I won, which means, anything goes."

You sat up straight on the chair, leaning forward to push your computer to the side, a blank stare on your face. Gojo seemed to be in complete contrast of your emotions, practically fidgeting on the client chair. You opened your mouth to speak, only to close it instantly. Then, you settled on shooting him a tiredly questioning look.

"Lucky for you, I already have the perfect dare."

Uh oh.

That sentence, paired with Gojo's awful excitement and velvet-smooth tone, meant that you were going to suffer extremely in the next twenty minutes.

"You..." he raised one finger up in front of you. "Are going to go to Boss Man's office, knock on the door, flash him that pretty little smile of yours, and go inside. You'll chat a bit, flirt—whatever. Then—"

"No, no, hold on. Flirt?" you immediately cut him off, practically jumping off your chair. "Yes, I said, whatever—then you will strike up a little compromising statement, make him tense up—"

You slumped back down on the chair, shoulders dropping. He was either drunk, or absolutely insane. Sure, he must've known about your slight interest in Nanami, but, surely, he knew better than to taunt with such an amazing work position like this for some idiotic bet?

Gojo was still going on about how you should make Nanami feel tense, whatever that meant, and slid his chair closer to your desk, making you chuckle. "Satoru," you hissed, him quieting down. "Are you fucking insane? You really think that I'll do that?"

Instead of changing his face expression to a more understanding and apologetic one, he grinned. "No, Y/N, that's not even the best part. So, after everything I just told you—" "I didn't listen."

"...Right. Okay. So, after everything I just told you, you will come closer to him, act all pretty, and tell him that you've been in need of a new necklace. Which, of course, I mean as not an actual necklace, but his hand!" he enthusiastically explained, gesturing to his own hand and lifting it up in front of your face.

"Satoru?" you silently spoke up, raising your eyes to look at his glasses. "Yes?" his voice was a bit too hopeful. "I am absolutely not doing that." This time, his shoulders dropped down.

"I'll get Toge."

"What?" you breathed out, eyes widening so far that they nearly popped out of your eye sockets. "I'll get Toge," Gojo repeated, lips forming into a straight line as he leaned back on the chair. You were simmering in anger and shock.

"Come on, I mean, you've been practically drowning for that man, and, I'm a good friend, so this is my time to help you!" Gojo's voice rose higher, him gesturing more intensely as he watched your angry narrowed eyes.

Suddenly, the light bulb in your head exploded. "You know what, Satoru, fuck you. Fuck you and when I get back, I hope you...leave," you spoke loudly as you stood up from your chair, shut off your computer and walked around the desk. Gojo turned around in the chair faster than the speed of light.

"Y/N, I love you!" he shouted behind you while you opened the door. "I hate you," you answered back angrily, shutting the door with a bang. A small 'I love you' rang through the door after you turned around in the corridor. You fixed your pencil skirt, brushing it down with your hands, mentally screaming at Gojo for being such an idiot. Or maybe you were the idiot for not simply walking away?

Truthfully, that part of you that had such an interest in Nanami was the thing that kept you walking further through the corridor to his office. You were interested to know what he'd do, interested to know how much his eyes would burn through you once you'd say it.

You shook your head once you were standing right in front of his office door. Hearing a slight shuffle inside, you sighed deeply and laid your head against the door for a few moments, before stepping away and placing your hand on the door handle. It was comfortable knowing that everything was Gojo's fault.

"Good evening, sir," you exclaimed after having opened the door to his office and looked inside. Fuck, did he look absolutely amazing – sitting in the chair before his desk, elbows propped up on the hard surface with his head resting in his palms and a sliver of his slightly disheveled hair laying across his forehead. He looked back up at you almost instantly, no emotion changing on his face.

"Good evening," he answered. You lightly swallowed, feeling awfully unsure of your next move. "How are you doing, sir?" you leaned on asking the basics first. "Tired, but alright. You? Come in, and close the door," he spoke blankly, you nodding and doing as he asked.

You walked up to the chair in front of his desk, sitting down and slightly smiling. "I'm alright. A bit tired, too, but I'm glad I finished all the paperwork I had and I can go home soon. Ah, also, Gojo visited," you explained, seeing Nanami nod his head. "What did you two talk about?

"Nothing much, he just wanted to stop by, I guess," you replied, not being quite sure of how convincing your statement was to Nanami.

"Good. And, why did you come here?" he asked, head leaving his palms as he leaned back in the chair. You also leaned back, crossing your legs. "Well, I guess I was just kind of...lonely?" you emphasized the word, noticing his eyebrow slightly raising.

"And you decided to come to me for that?"

"Well, yes. Gojo just gets a bit...annoying at times."

"Do I not?" Nanami questioned, making you quietly chuckle. "Not really, sir. I guess I enjoy talking to you more," you expressed, heart jumping at your sudden statement. Nanami let out a soft but understanding 'ah', shifting his hands to rest in his lap. Your heartbeat sped up as you realized the perfect silence to interpose your compromising word.

"Sir?" you asked, still keeping eye contact with Nanami, as he hadn't moved his gaze away from you since you two started talking. He hummed back in a reply. You felt your voice waver, which made you a bit frustrated, since you weren't the type of person to get easily nervous.

"I've actually been—" you spoke up, raising your head slightly, before catching your awful demise. Nanami raised his eyebrows, showing interest in your announcement. Suddenly, you felt your heart beat twice as fast, again, as you swallowed and decided to simply rip the band-aid off.

"I've been in need of a new necklace, sir," you managed to breathe out, the tense room reaching its peak. Nanami's eyebrows seemed to relax, him taking in a deep breath. Your eyes were still extremely widened from the actuality of what you just said.

"Well," Nanami spoke, and you instantly opened your mouth to interject. Nanami, however, continued speaking faster than you could. "If you told me what kind of necklace you'd like..." his voice trailed off as he leaned forward on the desk.

"Sir! I am so sorry—It is definitely not like that; it was just some stupid joke Gojo thought off—I'm terribly sorry. I don't—I don't need your money," you quickly explained, watching as Nanami's lip corners slowly turned upwards.

"Then, what do you need?" he suddenly spoke. In an instant, you felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly pressed your cold hand against your left cheek. Nanami chuckled.

"Is it humid in here, as well, Y/N?" You shook your head, your hand falling back in your lap. You lifted your eyes up, back at his, and returned his intense stare. "If not that, then what kind of necklace do you need?" he repeated, hushed tone of voice showing his peaked interest.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you weakly smiled, still staring back at Nanami. "Like I said, sir, it was just a stupid bet that I lost, and..." you trailed off, looking down at your pushed together thighs, blood flow being practically cut off from how tightly clad your dark grey pencil skirt was. You felt his eyes linger on you before pulling away, as Nanami sighed and leaned one arm back to vine it around his office chair. "I don't joke around that much. So, if you were being real, or not, I'd still accept your request."

"You mean, you'd buy me a necklace?" you blinked a few times, being in slight awe of his sudden genuine act. He lightly nodded, lifting one hand up to run his fingers through his hair. You swallowed, feeling your throat getting dry from the sight of his muscles flexing against the tight shirt.

As he swiped his blonde hair back, you noticed a tiny strand of graying hair moving against the golden ones, which caught you by surprise. It must've been the never-ending stress and worry that caused this, however, you couldn't lie that you didn't enjoy it.

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it right after. You weren't sure how to politely explain how this had nothing to do with money, rather Gojo loving his position as a stupid matchmaker. "Sir," you stalled, thinking of nothing else but drawing his attention with your title for him.

He looked interested enough.

"Sir, I'm afraid that Gojo, that—" you caught yourself seconds before cursing him out. "—afraid that Gojo had no money in mind when he made me say this to you," you quietly explained, voice getting more and more silent, causing Nanami having to lean in behind the desk to hear your explanation better. "Sir." You added to make your sentence sound as proper as it could possibly be.

What came from Nanami was a barely audible scoff, as he brushed off his pants and leaned forward to stand up from his chair. You, on the other hand, instantly fell backwards on your chair, avoiding being close to him while he stood up.

"What other necklaces do you know besides gold and silver?" Nanami lightly sighed out, leaving his chair resting against the office wall, and walked slowly around the desk. "I don't know, sir, but I...I'm not sure I can say it," you spoke, raising your voice so he could hear it. "Why not?" You heard Nanami's reply, which made you want to curl up into a ball and leave humanity behind.

"It's not appropriate," you deadpanned, trailing his form with your eyes as he calmly walked towards the window. "Hm?" he let out a sound of interest, causing you to lean back on the chair and close your eyes.

"Does Gojo enjoy being a matchmaker?" you suddenly heard Nanami speak. You opened your eyes, which widened in unexpected humiliation. Did he finally realize what undeniably cringy thing you were talking about?

"Maybe," you breathed out, feeling the growing butterflies in your stomach stir just from being alone with him. One blink later, Nanami had turned around to face you, and you made eye contact with him. Having leaned back on the chair, your body moved on itself – you quickly fixed your position in the chair and your hands flew to rest on top of your thighs, covering the raised skirt.

Nanami's eyes also lingered on your placed hands for a moment, before moving back to your face. Your cheeks heated up as he took a big step towards you, hands crossing themselves together behind his back.

He hummed quietly, watching you adjust yourself on your seat again. "You're nervous. Do I make you nervous?" he asked, taking another step closer. The abundant use of his word made you swallow, and you shook your head. You gazed down at your shoes, watching as he stepped so close, almost close enough to touch the tips of yours. You decided to look back up at him.

His tall frame hovered above yours, and you craned your neck so far back just to be able to see his eyes – his head shifted down to stare at you. You wished he hadn't stood so close.

"You care about appropriate?" Nanami suddenly spoke, making you scoff.

"Obviously, I do, sir."

"You didn't seem to when we were in the elevator." His sudden statement made you practically jump up from the client chair, facing him directly. "Oh. Oh, now we're gonna' talk about the elevator?" you whispered, words coming out in a quiet, but harsh shout.

"After you ignored me and pretended like that never happened for two months straight?" His eyebrows rose up, eyes narrowing. "I didn't ignore you." "Sure, you did! What happened to coffee? To our formal-informal policy? You just pretended to be busy—"

"I was busy," Nanami cut you off, and you tried to desperately ignore how his hips lightly brushed against yours as he moved. "Were you? I saw your work, you had finished everything, every last paper, meeting, everything. But you were still busy," you quickly spoke, watching as his face slowly relaxed, eyes coating with visible worry.

"You don't need to know about it," he answered, voice hushed and quieter than usual. You stopped, later sighing and surprising yourself by leaning forward and resting your forehead against Nanami. He stood still, exhaling. "I'm sorry that you work too much. But, will I be able to know, someday?" you muttered, enjoying how his tall form supported your lean on him.

Your body moved along with Nanami's as he took in a deep, thoughtful breath. Hearing no answer seconds later, you closed your eyes against him. "So, it's a maybe," you pondered, Nanami scoffing.

"I didn't say that. You did."

The both of you chuckled this time. Suddenly, you let out a surprised gasp as his body pressed itself flush against yours. Now, you could really feel his warmth, and that made your heartbeat quicken.

Your face was now pushed against his shirt, your dominant hand coming up to place itself next to your head for support as you started to feel like falling backwards. Nanami seemed to feel that, too, since right after you moved, one of his hands snaked up to your lower back, gripping you slightly to hold you in place, while the other came to rest gently on the back of your head.

Both of the places he was touching you were starting to burn up, meanwhile your heart filled up with overflowing warmth, you sighing.

This somewhat of a hug lasted for a full minute, before you felt Nanami start to pull away. He must've noticed your reaction, chuckling, as the hand that previously rested on your hair was now gripping your chin, just like it did in the elevator. Once again, he slowly lifted your head up to make eye contact, his eyes sparkling as he saw your heating cheeks.

"You have a thing for eye contact, don't you?" you heard him mumble. You raised your eyebrows, still embarrassed from your stupid reaction. "Not my fault that you stare like that," you replied, watching as he lightly smiled.

"You know, I'm not that old," Nanami suddenly exclaimed, you feeling the air from his exhale on your face. "I know a bit about slang these days."

Blaring alarms began sounding in your head as you slightly nodded, eyes trailing away through the window nervously, however coming back to Nanami's a moment later. "You do?" you asked carefully, repressing a tiny noise as you felt Nanami's grip on your chin tighten. He nodded, gaze wandering off to the lower half of your face, coming back up soon after.

"But, surely, I have been slacking off, since I am fully aware that your little necklace means something way different...however, I'll admit, I don't know what that something is," he took time to explain, watching how you slowly lost attention of his words.

You hummed, lips stretching into a smile as you gestured at him. "I'd tell you, but I'm currently not able to think," you spoke, him chuckling again. Nanami nodded knowingly, and released all hold of you, taking a small step backwards. You were relieved, of course, but a small part of your being ached to have him closer.

"Right—" "And be professional. Appropriate," he suddenly corrected, cutting you off. You took in a deep breath, nodding. "Right, sir. So, uh—" you stopped, eyes going blank as you stared at the floor. "Right, so, it's—sir, please don't make me say it."

You deadpanned again, forcing one of Nanami's eyebrows to raise. "Show me, instead?" he suggested, and you instantly nodded. You kept down a cough, gazing down at his hands, which were now resting alongside him. Not daring to mutter a word, you leaned closer to him, reaching to hesitantly grip his large hand.

It would be a sin to lie that you hadn't thought of his hands before. Because you had, and a lot. His fingers were long, hands slightly veiny and surprisingly soft. You often bet that if he rolled up the sleeves of his formal shirt, he'd have detailed veins running intricately along the length of his arms – the thought of which sometimes came with detailed images of his hands wrapping themselves around the base of your neck, or his slim fingers being shoved delightedly into your throat. And now, as you grabbed his hand, you noticed how much bigger it was compared to yours.

Catching yourself staring, you quietly cleared your throat, being sure that if you were to look up, Nanami would be grinning at your distraction. However, ignoring that, you moved your hand further down, gripping his wrist and raising his hand up towards you.

You swallowed, heartbeat increasing rapidly. He made no effort to move, so you raised his hand higher, finally being able to guide it to your throat. You felt each individual finger of his tighten around your neck, leaving you breathless as you realized how good it felt.

His grip wasn't that tight, but the feeling of his hand around your throat made you swoon. You desperately avoided his stare, being so unsure of your ability to control yourself at the moment. Realizing you needed to play everything off, you lightly chuckled, gesturing to his hand.

"Yeah—see, it's nothing, he just—ah," you couldn't hold back the noise as Nanami unexpectedly tightened his grip, making your lips part and your eyes fly to his. They were intense – glossed over and narrowed, observing you intently.

"You enjoy this," he suddenly spoke, the heat in your abdomen starting to flow even more. With his hand on you, he carefully guided you backwards, pushing the client chair away and pressing you against the edge of his desk. Nanami definitely noticed your breathing hitch at how roughly your backside hit the desk. "You enjoyed last time, too, didn't you? You like it when I handle you," he muttered, as you continued to gaze adoringly at him.

He let out a breathy chuckle, his other hand pushing your hip to help you sit on the desk. "Can't even speak now." Nanami spoke almost to himself, but you managed to catch his words every time.

His hand suddenly left your neck and you quietly gasped, instantly taking in a breath. Your skin still tingled, and you found it to be very enjoyable.

"Maybe I should let you leave again? Forget about it, as well," he asked, question almost rhetorical. You breathed in again, smiling and scoffing. "You think I forgot about the elevator? I kept thinking about it every time I saw you, or spoke to you," you answered, seeing his eyebrows raise. "Of course, you would. You're so needy." You eyed him at the statement, not being sure whether to be offended or turned on, which, actually, you were already the latter.

"Did you forget it?" you reversed the question, watching as he lightly lifted his head up and barely smiled. "No," he replied. You found yourself nodding with an overexcited 'told you' motion.

"If you don't touch me right now, I'll just leave, sir," your voice suddenly rang in between of you, Nanami almost immediately extending his arms towards you, mere moments later gripping your hip with one hand, while the other started on unbuttoning your shirt.

"Oh, no, we don't want that, now," you heard Nanami whisper under his breath – his barely audible and breathy voice almost making you shut your eyes in frustration. Nanami ended up noticing your reaction, which made him grin with noticeable pride.

His hand left the last button of your shirt and rose up, caressing your cheek while still managing to manipulate your head to his eye level. You had now managed to keep your eyes open and let them dance around his features up-close.

"Hm, here, I'll help you," Nanami muttered, unexpectedly leaning his head down to the side of your delicate neck – his uneven breaths tickling your skin. Your hands flew to his shirt, both gripping the fabric desperately as his lips brushed against your throat, later pressing down light kiss. Seemingly content with the gasp that left your lips, he began to abuse the sensitive skin rougher, resulting in you closing your eyes shut again and pressing yourself harder against his figure.

"You're not—ah—not helping me," you managed to choke out, feeling Nanami chuckle against you. He hummed, and seconds later you felt his knee coming to rest in between your thighs. The feeling of much needed friction made you whimper, but Nanami continued biting the skin, now moving his head to the other side of your neck.

Feeling the embarrassment rise from your neck to your cheeks, you swallowed and shut your eyes tighter, biting your tongue to try and keep the whorish moans from escaping your mouth. Instead, you whimpered louder, finding your hips subconsciously moving against his clothed leg – deciding to throw your pride out the window.

However, that didn't satisfy Nanami as he suddenly lifted his head up, eyes boring into yours. "I don't want you to hold back. I want to hear you," he mumbled, eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes. "Sir, Gojo is two rooms down and he'll—" you began, only to be cut off by Nanami.

"Then let him hear," he spoke louder, eyes glinting. Nanami's feverish ignorance rushed to your head and, when he dipped his head lower to you again, you settled on agreeing.

His loving mouth traveled all the way from your jaw, dabbling dangerously close to your parted lips, to your now colorful neck, as he made sure to leave you embarrassed while you walked down the corridor later tonight. You gave him the sounds he wanted – when he ripped the unbuttoned shirt from your body and peppered kisses down your throat, dipping deeper to the valley in between your covered chest, until the contact had you arching and leaning back heavily on his stacked desk.

Nanami settled on simply scrunching your pencil skirt around your stomach, not bothering to take it off fully. He pushed you further on the smooth surface of the desk, knee leaving from between your thighs. He did, however, take time to step back and gaze at the mess he had left you in – a hot, bothered, panting mess.

A chuckle rang from both of you as you continued staring at each other. Nanami's cheeks were dusted a light pink, hair messier than it was when you first entered the room.

Noticing your growing confidence, Nanami furrowed his eyebrows and took a step forward – his hand instantly finding comfort around your throat. Your whimper was silenced, and, moments later, Nanami used his free hand to eagerly push your thighs further apart, the same hand sliding down to your underwear. Eyes full of pride, he placed his thumb over your completely drenched panties, noticing as your hips bucked at the soft action. So needy.

He continued his tiny movements, your breath hitching quietly whenever he pressed down harder.

"Have you thought about me?" he suddenly asked, voice turning breathier again. Your eyes flickered down to his lips. "What do you mean, sir?" you managed to mumble out, his grip on your neck weakening. He lightly snickered. "You know what I mean," he replied, his hand leaving from your throat and travelling up to your chin, later lips.

Your breathing hitched as Nanami's thumb ended up on your lower lip, toying with it. "Hm?" he hummed, leaning forward and slightly slowing down his movements on your underwear, however adding more pressure. "Have you?" you flipped the question quickly, to which Nanami chuckled, and bent down even closer to you, gently brushing against the shell of your ear. "What would you think if I said I have?"

You found yourself smiling, and letting out a small laugh. "I'd say, that's hot," you muttered, both of you smiling wider in unison. "Is it?" Nanami retorted, speaking mostly to himself.

Unexpectedly, he quickly managed to grab the edge of your underwear and slide them down your thighs, softly making you lift your ass from the desk in the process. His movements were both gentle and somehow rough at the same time, making you swallow thickly as your throat grew dry. Placing his large hand on your thigh, he gripped the flesh harder.

Wasting no time, Nanami brought his other, right, hand to your mouth, making you whimper as his middle and ring fingers lightly pried your lips apart, shoving themselves onto your wet tongue. You couldn't help but keep contact with his stern eyes – which he seemed to enjoy – fingers travelling further into your throat.

You found his action to be very hot, letting your tongue freely move around him. He slid his now dripping fingers out of your mouth soon after. To your extreme surprise, he suddenly leaned his head down and pushed the same two fingers in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. Your eyes had definitely widened, and he noticed it, slightly grinning.

He then pulled his fingers out, which now had your and his saliva on them, and trailed them down your bare stomach. You suppressed a noise, and further traced his actions.

Nanami placed his head in the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your skin and making goosebumps trail all over your anticipating body. His fingers then traveled back down to your thighs. You tried to suppress a tiny whimper when his cool wet fingers traced your clit, pleasure immediately travelling through you. He went lower, sliding his middle finger into your pussy with ease.

You closed your eyes, lightly rolling your shoulders back and raising your now seemingly heavy head.

"You're so wet, Y/N," Nanami muttered into your ear, you getting even more goosebumps from his deep voice and opening your eyes back up to see him tower above you. "I bet I could just fuck into you right now," he spoke again, his filthy words aligning with the quickening pace of his now two fingers inside you.

Your back arched and you threw your head back as Nanami continued stroking the right spot, heat quickly building up in your entire body. Surely, you weren't going to cum that fast, were you? To be fair, Nanami had been teasing your for quite some time now, not to even mention the unimaginable amount of times you had failed to satisfy yourself with your own fingers.

"Will you—ah—make me cum, sir?" you mumbled, not even realizing the desperate tone of your voice until after you had spoken. Nanami lifted his head from your neck, the corners of his lips tilted upwards as he continued fucking his long fingers into your pussy at a rapid pace. "If you're a good girl for me," he answered, and your eyes widened again, you still not being used to his such way of words.

He hummed. "You like that, don't you? You like when I'm rough with you, you like when I choke you—when I praise you. Ah, aren't you just filthy?" Nanami continued lowly speaking into your ear, and you soon found yourself on the edge of your first orgasm. His left hand stayed put on your thigh, guiding you to spread your legs further. Your breathing became very irregular, whimpers growing more and more loud. His movements didn't stop, but soon rapidly slowed down – his thumb moving to draw circles on your clit while his middle and ring fingers still caressed the right spot inside you.

Your thighs shook, Nanami's touch being all too good, and he leaned back down to kiss the sensitive skin on the side of your neck. You were so, so close when, suddenly, he pulled his fingers out of you and pushed them back in your mouth. "Maybe I'll make you cum on my cock," he mumbled as he watched you gasp and your hips involuntarily move. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, tasting yourself. Seconds later, he removed them from your mouth.

You exclaimed a long, heaving breath, opening your eyes to glare at Nanami, who chuckled in response.

"I'm sorry, couldn't help it," he answered, lust lacing the low tone of his voice. His other, dry, hand came up to your face, lightly caressing the side of your cheek, while Nanami continued eating you up with his eyes.

"...fuck me...?" you asked quietly, watching the reaction in his eyes as he heard your tiny statement. Nodding, he dropped his hands to his belt, undoing it and later unzipping his pants. You continued to stare at him, his delightful hands flexing as he messed with the belt.

Your eyes surely widened as you finally saw the outline of him through his boxers – he was huge, and your insides immediately simmered with slight anxiety and anticipation. "Ah, I know, I know," he cooed, hand coming to lightly palm himself. You couldn't help but smile at his sympathy. Leaning in, your eyes slid to his lips, and you gestured at him.

"Will you kiss me, please?" you asked, and Nanami's hand almost instantly came up to your chin, this time gripping it lightly – only to tilt your head towards him.

He, however, didn't progress anymore – and you weren't able to convince yourself to make the first move.

"Pretty please, 'nami?" you mumbled again, the corners of Nanami's lips turning upwards. "Pretty please." He repeated, as to almost underline how desperate you were to have his lips smashing onto yours as he fucked you good. But, deciding to be meaner another time, Nanami lightly hummed and leaned into you, lips almost touching yours. He mentally slapped himself for not being able to control his teasing, but he still watched your breathing hitch as you opened your eyes.

" 'nami," you whispered, and the smile on Nanami's face widened. Suddenly, your eyes blinked shut as he pressed a short-lasting kiss onto your lips, pulling away a few – seemingly very long – moments later. Even such a short kiss made your lower stomach erupt in huge fluttering butterflies again, and when Nanami pulled away, you chased him forwards, starting another kiss yourself.

This time, Nanami noticed your eagerness, and soon took control of your movements – kissing you back way harder. His fingers gripped your chin even more, manipulating your head to move just the way he wanted. You found yourself whimpering into him, not even trying to contain the amount of fire Nanami made you feel.

Nanami's other hand soon traveled down to your thighs, roughly spreading them apart once again, and shifting you closer to his body on the desk. Unexpectedly, you found yourself completely flush to him, his clothed dick pressed against you. You both felt hot, the temperature in the room somehow rising higher by the second.

For a moment, you staggered against his lips, mind flashing back to your own office down the hall – more importantly, Gojo – but all worries were forgot the instant that Nanami's hand moved to your waist, his hips grinding further into yours.

"Enough of this," Nanami suddenly pulled away, his tongue sticking out to lick the inner corners of his lips. "I wanna'—I wanna' fill you up," he mumbled, keeping eye contact with you as his hands traveled down to his boxers, sliding them down. He definitely had the prettiest dick you've ever seen, you thought, and your eyes then flashed right back to his.

Keeping his tight grip on you, Nanami captured you in another hot kiss – you barely being able to keep up with his needy mouth. You found yourself moaning right into the kiss as you felt the head of his cock push into you with ease – you dripping all over his usually tidy desk. Nanami ended the kiss, pulling back and letting his mouth fall open, however still wanting to be gentle and let you adjust to him.

You shifted your thighs further, lifting your arms up to wrap them around his neck eagerly.

"Just—Just a lil' bit more, alright? You'll take me like a good girl, yeah—?" Nanami muttered as he pushed himself in further, you whimpering into his neck.

"Good girl—good fuckin' girl," he suddenly pulled out, thrusting all the way back in right after. You couldn't control the noises that left your mouth, along with a few expletives. Nanami then repeated the same process, before starting to fuck into you, bottoming out every other time.

Not letting you do any of the work, Nanami just took pride in your face, contorted in pure bliss, and how tightly you held onto him as he fucked you harder each time.

"Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," you mumbled in your fucked-out state, the world starting to lightly spin, your entire body burning with lust and eagerness. "Harder, ah—please, harder," you begged in a higher pitched and desperate voice – Nanami agreeing to your proposal almost immediately.

"Taking—takin' me so good, baby—taking me so good," he seemed to be in the similar frenzy as you were, the both of you coming in for a kiss at the same time. Nanami's touch felt rougher than the kisses before, and the rising heat in your core wanted more.

"Touch—please, touch me, more," you whined after leaving the kiss, Nanami tutting with his chin placed on your forehead. "I'm fucking the shit out of you, baby, I am touching you."

Not even trying to explain it with words, you rather opted to once again gather his free right hand and drag it to your throat. He caught on well – instantly wrapping his fingers around your marked neck, your eyes rolling back from the even more intense pleasure.

The whole desk threatened to collapse, and each time you met Nanami's hips with yours, all you managed to do was hold onto his strong figure to not fall off, yourself.

"My pretty slut, my pretty little—," you heard him mumble with a rasped voice, you also barely being able to choke out any moans or sentences as his hand only tightened around your throat – the feeling being probably the only thing grounding you at the moment. One of your hands left his back, instead travelling to his one on your neck. You placed your hand shakily around his, him releasing his hold slightly.

You were pretty sure you were drooling at this point – your fucked-out brain thinking of Nanami Kento, and him only. You stared aimlessly back at his eyes, keeping eye contact as he fucked you so, so good. You were sure you couldn't live without him anymore. You were both a total mess – dabbling dangerously on the edge of an overstimulating orgasm – feeling Nanami's hips stutter more often.

" 'nside—inside, please," you begged, voice almost more raspy than his own. "Please—please, please, daddy—inside," you mumbled, voice almost getting lost in the loud sounds of sex. However, Nanami had instantly caught your blabbering, a loud groan leaving him.

"Fuck—stop," he almost panted out, softly but swiftly flipping his blonde hair back. "Daddy, please," you whimpered. It was hopeless now – you had caught onto the title and for sure were not going to lose it – and it was obvious.

"You want daddy to cum in you? Is that what you want?" Nanami groaned out, unexpectedly stopping his pace and slamming you onto his desk, a couple of document-filled binders flying off the surface. You let out a loud gasp, Nanami leaning down to your level and hovering near your ear.

"You're such a fucking slut for me, you know that, right?"

Right after your eyes widened from such obscene words, he went right back to fucking the absolute shit out of you, not even thinking about letting you catch up. Not even a few moments later, your thighs shook harshly, and you came unimaginably hard around his cock – him continuing to aid you through your orgasm with terribly mean rough thrusts and sweet forehead kisses.

Seconds later, he came inside you, continuing to rut into you as he once again abused the purple skin on your neck and chest.

Laying his head on you, he sighed out as he listened to your fucked-out whispers and soft whimpers of you trying to move.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. Did I hurt you?" he instantly reached out, noticing you weakly shake your head. "I'd usually go for another round, but— God," you humored silently, the both of you chuckling. "Everyone left. I'll take care of you, alright? We can, uh, go to my place—or yours, if you want," Nanami slowly pried off of you, trying to not smile at how hopelessly you arched as he pulled out.

"Your place, please. And tell me you do have a shower, please."

"Hm, pretty sure I do. Can you stand?"

"I can try—"

"Hey, I'll just carry you. It's okay."

[rcksmith]

I want to do bad things with you — Five Hargreeves

Request: “6 from fluff and 4 and 8 from smut list for five hargreeves?”

Fluff Prompts:

6. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

Smut Prompts;

4. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

8. “I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope it got close to what you wanted. ❤️ This is a heavy smut, I was in a bad mood, sorry jsnsjsnsjsn.

Guys, I really understand who doesn't feel comfortable reading or writing Five's smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, bad words and bad smuut.

— — — — —

Five Hargreeves were many adjectives. Genius, superhero, handsome, dangerous, sinic, arrogant, born leader, among other things. His energy was intense and mysterious, and looking him for too long was like facing the stormy sea: dangerous and risky, but extremely fascinating.

He carried many adjectives on his back, is truth, and domineering was one of them. His life was a constant line of stress, problems and exasperation, Five felt irritated most of the time, so relieving all that stress in sex was... it was fucking good.

Normally, his emotions were always on a tight leash, under iron control. Five was composed, controlled, taking everything rationally. Even in sex, when he vented all his anger, he was conscious. Until you show up.

You were a little, sweet, lyrical little thing and... fuck, you had an angel face that made Five clench his jaw as soon as he laid eyes on you. And then controlling yourself became a much more difficult task. You had a cunning, catlike look, but an face so pure that it hooked Five into the his soul.

He couldn't get involved with you, he repeated that every fucking day. Five could barely look in your direction without wanting to hold your angel face and kiss you with the fury of hell. Five wanted to fold you in front of him, slap your ass until you blush and hear you whimpering his name. He wanted to do all the dark things in his mind to break your doll energy.

Five Hargreeves was many things, but the irony of all was how they swayed when he fell in love with you. It was inevitable. Over the months, while trying to control his thoughts, he found himself admiring your intelligence and sense of humor. He started to notice how you loved sweet tea and had headaches when you had coffee, which is why he started to leave a migraine medicine in the kitchen if you needed to.

With the days, Five now hid his smile when you laughed at something stupid and admired how the world seemed sweeter when you were happy.

And that's when he kissed you. And his whole view changed. When he held your face between his hands and tasted your lips, Five felt like he was touching Egyptian crystal, and then the urge to protect you was born. He didn't want anything or anyone to hurt you, anyway. Five touched you so delicately and made sure that nothing bothered you.

So that's when you two slept together. Fuck, it was so fucking hard for him. Extraordinarily difficult because Five wanted to make you scream and fuck you so hard. It was difficult as hell because he wanted to hit your ass and thigh so hard that he could see the marks tomorrow. And... son of a bitch, even though you moaned and squirmed, you looked like a fucking angel. And the desire to desecrate something so pure became even bigger.

And that was why he avoided touching you during those hours. He kept his hands on the mattress, on the headboard, on the walls or on the pillows, avoided touching you as much as possible. Because Five knew... it was already too hard not to fuck you rough, hard and intense, if he touched you... it would be the end. He didn't even want to kiss you too much, or suck on your skin, because one thing would lead to another and... God, you fucked his mind!

It was after a few months that he realized he loved you. And your relationship will become even more serious.

"I love you so much.” You whispered on his lips one day, with the cold and rain falling outside, and you curled in him up like a pet.

Five nodded, him lips on you forehead, brushing them there as appreciated what that phrase did to him. You two had already said that a few months ago, but you loved to keep repeating it and Five appreciated how right the universe felt when you said that.

“I'm going to marry you one day.” He sighed through your hair, lowering lips to yours before receiving your ecstatic and passionate screams.

But the more love grew in you two, the more hunger, lust and sin grew within Five too. Was like a wild beast, hitting the bars of the cage, almost breaking what kept under control. And controlle herself started to be physically painful. So he tried to put out that blazing fire.

Seeing you naked has become excruciating torture. Five fidgeted uneasily whenever you changed in front of him, took off the towel after a shower. But the worst was when you two had sex. Fucking you, feeling you pulsing, squirming, totally submissive to his whims, made Five have to acquire phenomenal self-control. Although Five exhibited a cold, arrogant and confident personality, everything inside him became a boiling volcano when you appeared.

“Baby…” That was when Five heard you purring, you had just come out of the shower, a short white towel covering your body.

When Five looked at you, and saw you walking towards him, he pulse reached alarming levels. Normally, Five always managed to keep his impulses under control, even though it was an overwhelming endeavor. But not today.

Oh, he was far from being in control. Your doe eyes looked at him docilely and Five felt again the overwhelming appetite to take you so badly.

God, he needed to break you…

You didn't make it easy for Five either. Oblivious to the internal battle within him, you sat on his lap, supporting your legs on either side of his hips, with the towel rising to the top of your thighs and your bare skin sitting on his already pulsating member.

Five snarled softly, hands tightly squeezing the bed sheet, your body pulsing beneath his. He felt hot as if were in the Sahara desert.

“You are so tense.” Your voice was velvety, soft, and you brought your lips to his neck. And that was too much.

“Y/N..” Was a warning.

“Something wrong?” You pulled your face back enough to look at him.

Five shook his head, hands still clutching the sheets. You followed that gesture with your eyes, and started connecting the pieces second by second.

It was no longer today that your felt him controlling himself. Moments he didn't want to touch you at all while he fucked you, like you were a hot iron. Days when he forced a little more force into the way he kissed you and then completely backed down.

“I've been noticing a few things lately...” You commented, the left index finger playing with his uniform “I noticed that you have ... controlled yourself, as if you were holding something.”

And then you looked into his eyes, and what you saw in the green sockets was a lust so fervent that you felt yourself losing breath.

“Y/N...” the voice was still hoarse, a ring signaling his warning as well “I ... I won't be able to talk about this with you.”

“Why not?” You didn't know exactly what the problem was, how deep it went, but you knew something was going on. “I did something? Or are you more stressed? ”

“You did not do anything.” He assured you, and as he saw in your eyes that you would not let the matter pass, because you were determined as hell, Five sighed deeply. “It with me. It has nothing to do with you, I just... I like to do more... rough things. "

You were watching him closely, the direction of the conversation was pleasing to you... It wasn't today that you knew your own tastes, and something brutalized and stronger was exactly what you liked. But Five was always so controlled, so reserved, that you were still looking for an opening to bring it up.

Five must have noticed that your eyes took on a different glow, and he looked at you as if he suspected.

“Why that look?” His little corner smile made you smile too.

“ I didn't know you liked things like that.” Five raised an eyebrow at you, the little smile still on his face. “Is that why you have been controlling yourself?”

Five had to take a deep breath, hands going to your waist under the towel, in a soft, controlled touch. But his hands were stiff, you felt it.

“I do not want to hurt you.” He was succinct “I have more aggressive, brutal desires, and I don't want to take it out on you.”

Oh, you were really enjoying the conversation.

You let out a low chuckle, playing with your index finger on the lapel of his uniform.

“Like ... hit me and stuff?” Then you felt his grip tighten on your waist, his jaw tighten.

Five looked at you with a clear warning that you were walking in rough waters. That it was better for you to stop here. He could barely cope with his own thoughts about it, let alone hear you say those things with that fucking angelic voice of yours.

"What if I wanted to?” Now your eyes were bright with amusement and anticipation.

“You can't tell me these things” His grip got stronger, his eyes more fierce, the energy more irritable “Even more naked in my lap.”

Five might be covered in clothes, but he could feel your hot pussy under him, the soft skin of your thighs around his waist, your breasts a touch away... Damn, it was too much for him!

“I mean it.” You ran your fingers through his hair, resting your hands behind the back of his neck. “I like something hard too, if you are willing to try this on me, I would like us to do it. You are always so focused... I would love to see you more out of control. ”

Five kept his eyes on you, as if he were looking for some hesitation in you. But he found none. Just shared desire.

God help him.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.” He wanted to warn you, he wanted you to know it was a path of no return. Five could destroy you and him wanted you to know that.

“Yes.” You agreed “I want it so much.”

Suddenly, something in the air seemed to change. Everything became rarer, more caustic and crackling. Five's intensity had reached extremely high levels and he looked at you as if you were the prey on a night hunt. Five pulled harder on your towel, freeing your naked body. He gasped, his eyes fixed on you.

“Say red when you want me to stop.”

You were going to say something, but he didn't give you a chance. His hungry lips stuck to yours. It was a controlling kiss, drowning out you surprised moan. Five stood with you on his lap and threw you on your back on the mattress. You gasped, your naked body exposed on his bed, given over to all the profane fantasies he had in mind. Seeing you there, submissive, destroyed all the control he had.

Oh he was going to destroy you.

Five remained standing, pulled your legs over the edge of the bed and opened them aggressively. You let out a heavy breath, the core pulsing. God, seeing that made him rock hard.

Five leaned over your body, pressing his lips in you before moving to your breasts, sucking on aching nipple, squeezing the other in a heavy touch. His hands left you for a second before him straightened up and removed he blazer and sweater from the academy, his nimble hands pulled the tie knot fiercely, tearing the piece of silk from his neck.

“Be quiet for me, dear.” Five put your hands together, tying your fists with the tie and tying the tie to the headboard.

You bit your lip, your body fidgeting for him, the core throbbing. Five had barely touched you and you were already pulsing for him.

“You are so needy.”

Without warning, he was leaning over you, him lips on yours, his hands roaming your body in a rough touch, his mouth pinching your lips. And everything started to get heavy after that point. Five closed his mouth on your neck, leaving a trail of purple hickeys as he brought two fingers to your mouth.

You took them in, sucking without waiting for an order. But his fingers on your mouth seemed to have an even more exciting effect for you. You legs closed, wanting to seek any friction, but Five slapped your left thigh roughly, brutally separating them with his free hand.

“Did I tell you to close your legs?!” You whimpered, and he gave you another slap “Answer!”

“N-no...” You did your best to speak with his fingers in your mouth.

“No what?!” Another slap. Now you could feel the flesh throbbing. You pulled on your fists, trying to control yourself not to close your thighs again.

“N-didn't”

Now his free hand went to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“It's ‘No, Daddy’!”

“No, Daddy!”

“Good Girl.”

Five withdrew his hand from your mouth, bringing it down and melting it into your pussy. You moaned louder, forcing the tie, shifting your hips. He didn't give you time to breathe before he buried his fingers in you, hitting your walls.

You screeched muffled by his lips on your, as his hand pushed against you frantically, slamming inside you at a brutal pace.

“F-fi...”

Another slap. Stronger, more aggressive.

“What did fucking you say?!”

“Daddy! I mean Daddy! I’m so sorry.”

He accelerated his hand even more, and you started frantically pulling on the tie, trying to get rid of or gain more of that ardor. You were starting to feel close to orgasms when Five pulled away, slapping your bare breast as he rose again. You whimpered in protest, your hips still making some movements in search of some ghost friction.

“Look at you, so desperate and I haven't even fucked you yet.” Five began to unbutton his white shirt, stripping off his clothes and leaving the belt beside you.

You excitement went to extremely high levels when you saw his cock jump out. Pulsating, molasses with pre-cum and dashed with thick veins. Your core throbbed, dripping your liquid while you whimpered.

Five smirked when he noticed where your attention was, and he leaned you, but now bringing the belt with him and placing it around your neck.

God, he was going to fuck you so hard.

Five gave a tug, testing the accuracy, and when you groaned needy, Five appeased his own excitement by sinking his bruised lips into yours.

He stood up again, pulling your legs closer to the edge as he brushed your pussy with the throbbing head of the stick, watching you squirm. It was torture for him too, but the sight of you struggling for contact was a fucking reward.

“Please d-Daddy!” You whimpered, rummaging in despair, wanting more of anything he give you.

“Please, what? ‘Please, daddy, fuck me hard’ or ‘please, daddy, use me’ ?”

You were begging, with tears in the corners of your eyes as he played with you, by sinking the head of the stick inside you. It was driving you crazy. Five held the base of him penis while he sank just another inch into you, then pulled and rubbed your clitoris.

“Fuck me h-hard, Daddy!”

Suddenly, Five entered you brutally to the bottom, leaving you speechless in a loud and silent groan. He pulled you by the belt, not giving you time to get used to the size, he established strong and aggressive blows.

“Do you want hard?! I will give you hard!”

Then Five untied the tie from the headboard, turned you brutally on you stomach and pulled your hips up. He pulled his hand back and unloaded it on your ass, and you screamed, staggering forward. Five pulled you by the hips, dissatisfied with your distance.

“Be good girl for me, dear." It was an order.

You obeyed, crying out loudly when Five pushed the stick inside you aggressively, pulling on your neck with the belt. He held you by the belt and the waist while he fucked you. Hard, fast, without any abandonment.

His hand hit the flesh of your ass from second to second, and you can't help but moan for it. He gave no respite, the sound of his bodies colliding flooded the room, perhaps the entire mansion.

Five has never felt so hardcore in life, so hungry, so lust. He wanted to break you, hurt you, squeeze your flesh so hard that you would be left with marks for months. He groaned, trying to concentrate on mistreating the walls of your pussy, pounding with brutality, harder and cruel.

“D-d-daddy!”

Tears streamed into your eyes as you dug your nails into the pillow hard, unable to contain the moans and the tremor in your thighs. Your belly vibrated, hummed with hyperstimulation, that was paradise and sin at the same time and you felt that you could fall apart at any moment.

Five pulled the belt tight, bringing you up and sticking your back to his chest. He put his free arm around your waist, bringing the thrusts in slow, hard rhythms, making you feel every inch of him.

You hands went to him arm around your waist, the new position reaching the most sensitive places, making your pussy throb. You bit your lip to try to control your moans, because you were afraid they would be too loud.

“Without trapping those sounds for me!” This time the slap came down on your left breast, followed by a deeper thrust, and you begged for excuses while looking for air “Let everyone hear who's making you feel so good! Who does this slutt belong.”

That pushed you further into the abyss. Five sucked on the skin on your neck, pouring out a strong hickey while you could only scream and whimper for him, unable to do anything else. . He entered you deeply, taking whatever inch you had and forcing you to take it deeper.

Five did not allow you to move an inch away, your hips clinging to his, held by his arm, him fucking you hard without you can moving your hips. He could feel you blinking on his dick, making your honey drip down your thighs. His hunger had given no respite, and when he looked at you, and he saw your angel face in an expression of pleasure, pain and dirty with tears, it further fueled Five's hunger.

"That, little slutt!"

You were close, pulsing on his dick, sweat running down your body, your broken moans. Five loved how you were a mess for him, your whole body scarred because of him. He never fell your owner as much as he does now. You begged for something you didn't know what it was, but Five did. And he would give it to you. But he felt your pussy squeeze him, swallowing him in a broken way.

“You can't come until I let you!”

“Da-daddy!” You moaned louder “Please! Please! I need... I need it! ”

“I don’t care how good it feels, you’d better not cum until I tell you to!”

Five came out of you, turning you brutally on the bed once again, removing the belt from your neck. He climbed on top of you, now sticking your body to his, placing his mouth on yours in a gasping kiss. The skin-to-skin sensation was maddening, you were both hot, sweating, and Five squeezed your thigh tightly before slapping it down again. Your wrists were still tied, and you could only press them against his broad chest.

Your thighs were shaking and Five was delighted by this, he traced hickeys all over your breasts, and sank into you again when he sucked on your left sore beak.

Five held you while he fucked you in that position. Strong, cruel and hard. His hands were glued to your flesh, marking your skin with purple from his digits, holding his own moans. And you watched him with your mouth open by the screams and the sight. He was beautiful like that. Wild, his skin all sweaty, his teeth closed on his lip to keep from groaning, his black hair stuck to his forehead.

It was too much torture, too much stimulation, and you were already letting the tears flow while you were begging for something.

“Come to me, my good girl.”

Five didn't have to say it twice. You came intensely, your pussy sucking all of his cock and receiving the hot, thick liquid of his as a reward. You threw your head back in abandonment, feeling him it sink into you deeper, making sure you got all his sperm.

“Such a good girl for me.” Five whispered as he gave you a reward kiss you.

[naamahdarling]

LET ME BE CLEAR I know the sleep/wake transition is when our consciousness and body do basically the weirdest thing they do. People experience all kinds of shit and that's because the transition primes the body to imagine wild fuckin' things. So none of what I am telling you is a real haunting. It's brain fuckery.

But.

I swear to god several times a month I feel something get into the bed with me. Feels like a cat. Started out hopping up onto the foot of the bed, walking 3 steps to about the level of my shins, and settling. Very light. Not really spooky so much as odd. Consistent, for...7 years now?

But then a while back, a little over a year I think, I was awake but lying in the dark and I felt it DROP onto the bed, like you dropped a cat from your arms, and it STOMPED across the bed back and forth, once. Felt real. It was that strong. And I shot up and turned the light on and there was nothing. I raised my voice to tell it off and it went away for like 3 months.

Now I do a visual check before I close my bedroom door and CONFIRM the location of every cat, because...I have to be sure. Sometimes one will slip in, but when they spook me, and I jump or cry out, they don't get off the bed, they come over to me to be petted because now I'm awake. So it isn't them, ever.

It keeps happening and mostly it's not too bad but after that episode -- and it was so strong and I was fucking AWAKE -- it's creeped me out more. Mostly it has kept to the bottom third of the bed, which, okay. I could kick it away, you know? Somehow it isn't so bad.

But it started to come up further sometimes, to the level of my hips. And then a few months ago I felt...Christ. I was almost asleep and it felt like a cat or something jumped and missed and caught the edge of the bed and HAULED itself up. Right behind my shoulders, where there is a nightstand in the way. It was so quick.

But last fucking night

I was settling down to sleep but not there yet, and I felt it lightly WALK up the length of the bed. Up behind my back and head and then around the top of my head, and back the way it came. Not as firm as real cat footsteps, but still, the motions were definite. Like something creeping. Maybe more than one? Or it was long?

I went for the light, wide the fuck awake, and usually it cuts off at that point, but it was STILL MOVING IN THE BED when I was leaning trying to reach the lamp, and then after the light was on it KEPT GOING. That has NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE, and if I was drifting off when it started, I was fully the fuck awake for the end and there was fuckall nothing on the bed and the light was ON.

I SHOUTED at it, "HEY. YOU STOP THAT. STOP IT N O W!" and it stopped moving finally. And I gave it a piece of my fucking mind and told it to stop this shit or tone it the fuck down, and if it's malicious to get the fuck out of my house.

I am glad to host a ghost kitty. But not something that gets so close to me.

And now I feel like an asshole because look, I know it's not real, it's a sleep disturbance of some kind. Parasomnias are weird. But what if it is, and it's just a ghost cat? And we have just replaced the floor and are repainting and the house is in chaos, and what if it just feels safer in here, where less has changed? Next to the cat magnet of a human.

What if it's one of my 3 that died here? Wouldn't I know if it was? But what if I shouted at it?! At one of my babies?! JAIL FOR MOTHER.

Or what if it's god knows what something Else and it keeps getting closer. What if it fucking TOUCHES ME. A cat paw poke would be scary, but what if it's a small hand?

What if this escalates to sleep paralysis and I start seeing terrifying shit?

It's NOT REAL. I know it's a parasomnia thing or something, I have had sleep paralysis before a couple times, I definitely have, uhh, the very stupidly named Exploding Head Syndrome. And I am still hella creeped out by this because it feels like a fucking animal in my fucking bed!

I can't find specific mention of the sensation of movement anywhere in reading about parasomnias and hypnagogic hallucinations. I kind of want to talk to a sleep specialist just to know I am not alone. I don't want meds, just to hear that this is a documented explainable thing.

I have to go to sleep now and I really, really don't want to.

[nini-trash-forever]

Jealousy

Luca Changretta x gn (gender neutral) reader

    Luca had convinced you to come with him to a “business meeting”. He tended to get bored during things like this. So why not bring someone that could never bore him? He was meeting with some of the other Italians so that they could talk about their next move. You were finishing up the final touches of your outfit to fit in at the restaurant the meeting would be at. Luca came up behind you and admired your reflection in the mirror.

    “My love,” he said in Italian as he put his arms around you. He couldn’t help but appreciate what you’re wearing. No matter what you wore, he would appreciate it. You could be wearing a burlap sack for all he cared. You started studying Italian about a month ago so you think you know what he said, but you weren’t sure. Therefore, you just smiled at him through the mirror and hoped for the best. “Are you ready to leave?” You nodded and grabbed your coat and walked out the door to go to his car.

    His car pulled up to a local restaurant, Salerno’s. It’s owned by an older couple who came over from Italy a few years ago. You had met the owners, Gabriele and Sofia, a few times and they were sweet people, they minded their own business but would take care of their customers as if they were family. It’s very homely inside and the smell wafts through the air even from the outside. Luca offered his hand to you and led you inside. The delicious smell of freshly baked bread became stronger the farther you went into the restaurant. You stopped and dropped Luca’s hand.

    You softly greeted Sofia with a smile and a hug. During one of your previous visits, she hinted at you being able to call her nonna, but you expressed you weren’t quite at that level yet, but you might be one day. Luca had never held a meeting here before, but did so on your recommendation. This is also his first time here. So, he was clearly shocked to find out you were somewhat close with the owners. Sofia leaned close to your ear and whispered just loud enough for Luca to hear, “Is this him?”

    “Good evening. My name is Luca.” Sofia didn’t react at first, looking him over for what seemed to be the third time. Was she judging if he was good enough for you? You nudged her a little, but she remained silent.

    “Luca, this is Sofia. She and her husband own this restaurant. They treat everyone like family, especially me. So please be good to them.” Sofia smiled and pulled you into a side hug. She also knew that you weren’t good enough at Italian to understand what she was about to say, and she did so with a smile.

    “If I find out that you hurt them or someone they care about, I will rip out your tongue and serve it up as a specialty for dinner service.” Luca’s eyes went wide with the threat, you were oblivious. “I think it’s time for me to lead you to your table, hmm?” You nodded and followed Sofia, taking Luca’s hand in your own, but for some reason his grip was very loose. You were concerned.

    “Baby, what’s wrong?”

    He swallowed thickly before replying, “Nothing. Just thirsty.” You didn’t quite believe him, but ignored it as you approached your table. You turned to Sofia and thanked her. Luca nodded as a thanks and she gave him a death stare but left to attend to the wait staff. That was suspicious.

    “She said something to you, didn’t she?”

    “Yes.”

    “Are you going to tell me what she said?” You both sat down, him at the head of the table closest to the kitchen and you to his left.

    “No.”

    “Smart man,” Sofia said as she walked towards the kitchen. You laughed wholeheartedly at her response. Now it is just a waiting game.

    Slowly, the people filed into the restaurant. As the meeting time got closer, larger groups came in until almost the entire restaurant was full of Luca’s associates. You were surprised at just how many people were there. The wait staff came through to take drink orders and get those passed out with menus so that everyone could order their meals. It seemed like utter chaos to you, but controlled chaos to Sophia. Sophia made sure everyone’s orders were taken without a problem.

    Orders were delivered to the kitchen where Gabriele and the chefs would make sure they were made to standard. You had watched him work the pass once. It was amazing to see his command and grace running the kitchen and his standard of food was one of the many reasons people came back for more. You knew that there would likely be little to no problems with the food tonight even with a packed restaurant. Within twenty minutes, appetizers started coming out of the kitchen to those who ordered them. Luca had raised his eyebrow at your choice of appetizer because most Italian restaurants weren’t able to get it right (at least in his opinion). You gave him a taste of it, though, and he seemed genuinely surprised at how good it is.

    “Wow,” he said, “that’s delicious! I sort of wish I had gotten one for myself.” You smile at his statement.

    “When this is over I can ask Gabriele and Sophia to make some extra for us to take with us. Would you like that?” Luca hummed and nodded his head in response. He gave you a look that let you know he adored you. The last appetizer was delivered and the first part of the meeting started. This consisted of them going over major changes since the last meeting everyone was at. It then went on to making sure everyone was on the same page about minor changes and decisions. Soon you spaced out and thought of the entrées that were being cooked in the kitchen. You had excused yourself to quickly use the restroom and talk to Sophia for a minute. By the time you got back, the food was almost ready to be served. Once it was, everyone in the room looked like they were ready to devour everything on their plates.

    It seemed that everyone enjoyed their meal and dessert was served not too long after. The meeting continued on after and it seemed as though it was never going to end. You’d silently hoped that Luca could see the boredom on your face. He did. He saw the boredom, but there wasn’t much he could do. Everything being discussed was incredibly important. Eventually the meeting came to a close and most of those from the meeting had left. Some stayed behind to get extra food like you and Luca. One man had stated his wife probably wouldn’t let him in the house if he didn’t get something for her as well.

    You drank quite a bit of water throughout the meeting and decided to relieve yourself once again before you left. There was a problem, though. A man who was in the meeting that seemed to be drunk was standing outside the restroom door. He was giving you a look that made you very uncomfortable and was calling you pet names that made it even weirder. This continued to happen until you stood by Luca who was paying for dinner. The strange man still did not catch on to who you were with as he said a certain phrase very loudly that you would never forget, “Hey, sweetheart! How much is he payin’ for ‘ye? I’ll double it. I could treat ‘ye real nice.” With Sophia and Luca right there, you knew something would happen but you pretended to ignore him. You gave them each a look for them to ignore what he was saying in hopes he would just go away. Eventually he did, grumbling how he didn’t think you were that good looking anyway. Luca’s jaw was clenched during this interaction. You could tell it bothered him. It certainly wasn’t the first time a creepy man had propositioned you.

    It turned out that everyone had enjoyed their meals and most planned to come back with their families in the future. You grabbed the extra food and said goodbye to Sophia and Gabriele and headed to the car with Luca. His jaw was still clenched. You didn’t say anything to him. This wasn’t because you didn’t want to talk, but rather you didn’t know what to say.

    The ride home was a little too silent for your liking. At this point you could feel the anger radiating off of him. He slammed the house door closed. You had tried to talk to him after getting back but he couldn’t handle it at first. You know he wasn’t upset with you. He was just angry that someone would have the audacity to say that to you, and that he didn’t do anything about it (on your wishes).

    After a while, he came back to the room you’d stayed in and kissed you harshly. This went on for a couple minutes and he pulled back. It became very clear to you that he wanted your permission to go after the man who’d said those things to you. You declined. “But, y/n, I just want to talk to him for a—”

    “The answer is no. I will not allow you to go after a drunk man no matter what horrific things he said to or about me. I am not that kind of person. End of discussion.” He nodded in defeat and hung his head onto your shoulder. Some time later, you both made your way upstairs and changed for bed. Snuggled close together, you sighed as you slowly fell into slumber.

    As sleep started to take over you, you briefly heard Luca say something you didn’t understand. “I love and respect you. However, I cannot just let that man get away with it. I will personally make sure he pays. I just hope you can forgive me.” He held you tighter and you fell asleep in each other's arms.

[curmudggeon]

Southern Hope (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

❝ If by any chance...in another lifetime, we happen to see each other again, I'll come and find you. And I'll make you fall in love with me, over and over again ❞

In which romance novelist, Mary-Beth under the pen name of Leslie Dupont, writes a coming of age love story based on her favourite gang members in the past, You and Arthur.

Trigger Warnings; Violence | Blood | Angst | Sexual Intentions

A/N: This is a project I've been working on for quite a while. I had the idea in mind when I had the chance to experience the musical composition of Aaron Copland's quintessential American Dream, 'Appalachian Spring' -one of my favourite pieces with such a beautiful storyline. And I wanted to retell it in the form of a book that is available on my Wattpad (ongoing) for you to enjoy from Mary-Beth's POV. I hope you show love to this book as much as I loved writing it. Have a sneak peek at the prologue!

Read on Wattpad here for more chapters to come!

PROLOGUE

Leslie Dupont; Mary-Beth Gaskill

Lemoyne, Saint Denis

November 1907

-

“Mademoiselle Dupont, we expect your next manuscript to be submitted by next summer. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Here we go again

Mary-Beth sighed as her editor, Céline Laurent, had warned her once more for not meeting the deadline to her books. She was in a crucial position in her life. After her debut as a romance novelist, The Lady of The Manor was an instant best-seller across the country. It was the kind of thing she specializes in, silly ol’ romances.

“I promise you, I’ll get it done by then.” Or maybe, at least not for now. She shouldn't have promised something she couldn’t keep, especially in the meantime.

“I’ll take your word for that, if you don’t meet the deadline by then. Y’know what will happen to your contract, Leslie.” Céline stood at the door frame of Mary-Beth’s office with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

She knew exactly what she had meant. In fact, she knew the consequences on the back of her head when she first signed that contract with her publishing company. Two more books were requested of her. Or else she would be evicted of her apartment and be forced to live along the streets of Saint Denis for the rest of her life. A life of luxury slipping between her fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Beth disclaimed, the moment her editor slammed the door as she left her office. Heaving yet another exaggerated sigh, she crosses her arms on the grand rosewood desk, flopping her head on top of it. “What am I going to do now…” She murmured into the crevice of her arms.

Mary-Beth was in the middle of a major writer’s block for a few months now. She lost sight of that imaginative space of hers, consisting of the most swoon-worthy romances to the picture-perfect life she portrayed through her characters. A part of Mary-Beth that her readers absolutely adored. But, her head was now a clouded space of everlasting void. It was difficult for Mary-Beth to come into terms of writing again, but she couldn’t quite identify what had put her into this position.

Once she gathered the courage to write again, it all came crashing down like violent tidal waves when she came face to the daunting blank page of nothingness —almost drowning her.

It was as simple as that. Come to work, have a cup of tea, sit down, and a blank page.

Every. Damn. Time.

Maybe it was because she was already nearing her mid-thirties, and she hasn’t found someone to sweep her off her feet. Maybe it was when she first held Tilly’s baby that she found the need to be a mother someday. Maybe it was the overwhelming response towards her writing, she felt the need to hide away into an abyss. Or maybe she couldn’t stop thinking about the time she had come across John again after so many years that the memories just come flooding back.

Or maybe, just, maybe. It was because it’s November.

The most dreaded time of the year. November, in which the seemingly fearsome Van der Linde gang had officially broken up. Guns were fired, ties were broken and deaths were grieved. An unforgettable, painful memory.

She would often think about campfire songs, the girls and, Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging about undone chores. Oh, how best of friends Céline and Miss Grimshaw would have been if she had heard Mary-Beth had been slacking again. It was her coping mechanism, think more about the good times to get rid of the bad ones.

Mary-Beth remembered when she took in her hands at being a matchmaker. Prancing around the camp, she would eye her two best contenders. You and Arthur.

She knew from the start when you had laid your eyes on each other for the first time, she could see through the inexplicable connection in between. You were both extremely awkward when it came to small-talk or addressing each other as you walked by across camp. However, it never stopped Arthur to come to camp as soon as he could just so he could see you, even just for a second.

The conversation would often start with Arthur while on his way to Dutch’s tent,

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Yea sure…”

—and that would be it.

At the same time, every single day, at the course of sunset.

You poor socially inept fools.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen would always see the interaction happen in the middle of their afternoon chores. Grinning from ear to ear. They would elbow each other whenever there was something different about the correspondence.

One time, you would walk past him, suddenly kissing him on the cheek and scurrying away.

Arthur would stop in his tracks, stunned, with a hand-over where your kiss tingled on his skin. Then he would look back at you as you laid down, smiling to yourself against a tree with a book in your hands. And Dutch would yell his name, knocking him out of his stupor before he noticed he was staring for a little too long.

The girls would start applauding for your heroic performance, it was like a groundbreaking plot twist Mary-Beth couldn’t wait to write about when the idea came into mind.

The both of you were like a walking excruciating slow, slow-burn romance novel. That was when Mary-Beth would cue in her entrance as matchmaker as soon as the interaction slowly died down. Your story had to have a happily ever after in her book.

She would pester you and Arthur separately, mentioning each other’s names and slipping in hints of romantic intentions from the other side so the both of you can address whatever this relationship was.

Mary-Beth knew it was a mission accomplished the night Sean was rescued back to Horseshoe Overlook. When she stood aside of the camp watching Dutch and Molly ballroom dancing into the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of you and Arthur behind them. Running into the woods, hand in hand, giggling to yourselves like prepubescent teenagers.

After that night, it was a considered job well done when your chance encounters slowly turned into planned ones. He would take you on dates, and you would show him affection like nobody’s business. A perfect couple, your American dream.

Until it became a nightmare.

And Arthur had passed,

your Arthur.

Ever since then, Mary-Beth wondered what had happened to you. Were you still alive after all these years? She couldn’t imagine how hard you must be coping with the news. Or what if you didn’t know at all? Even when she asked John and Tilly, they said you disappeared that night he passed.

Not even a single trace. Where were you?

Mary-Beth dismissed the thought out of her head, lifting her head away from the desk. She had to let go of these memories for her own well-being. For what seemed like yesterday were merely years ago. But it couldn’t have hurt to reminisce just a bit, for old times sake.

The story of You and Arthur was unwritten, left to collect dust from the lack of content. The perfect example of a sepia-tinted photograph, forgotten. Mary-Beth believed the both of you deserved something much more than a devastating ending. She wasn’t as ruthless as the other authors she had met that held an iron fist when killing off their characters. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that.

And the idea came to mind. She was a romance novelist for a reason; to fulfil all the possibilities for the unconditional love you shared.

And so Mary-Beth picked up her beautiful fountain pen,

She began to write on the great desk in her quiet room.

To write the most beautiful story of the century,

You and Arthur. Arthur and you.

A perfect couple. The American Dream.

A life that could have been so much more,

A life to remember…

[mandos-sluts]

The Escort

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, mentions of sex work, daddy kink, sharing a bed trope

Summary: You are introduced to Mando, who has been hired to escort you through the outer rim. You recall the one other time you had met him before.

It was around seven months ago that the incident occured. You had been training under Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker for years. But leading up to your escape, you had begun feeling resentment toward your master and the entire Jedi order. You were having an existential crisis and questioning everything you had learned and were supposed to preach. One day, you and Luke were in a particularly bad argument, and you snapped. You packed your bags and decided to abandon the Jedi order.

You were only gone for a week. Luke managed to track you down on some underdeveloped planet, and by that time, you had cooled off and were thinking clearly. You and Luke returned and resumed your training.

The week that you went rogue was pretty uneventful. You seeked refuge in this small mining town and figured you needed to get a job. Unsurprisingly, it was very slim pickings, and your best option ended up being sex work. This was a fine work placement; the job paid relatively well and the owner of the brothel was a sweet old woman who protected the sex workers. Again, the week was fairly mundane and you only serviced a few clients.

**********************************

You had been assigned a diplomatic mission which required you to travel to some planet in the outer rim. You were all ready to go and were walking toward your ship when Luke approached you with some Mandalorian.

“Y/n, I would like to introduce you to Mando.” Luke said. You and Mando shook hands.

“Nice to meet you.” You said with a straight face. The Mandalorian seemed really familiar to you, but you couldn’t figure out why.

“He will be escorting you to the system.” Luke said with slight hesitation, already knowing how you’ll react.

“What!?” You said with confusion and slight offence. “Why would I need an escort? I’ve traveled solo to dozens of planets on dozens of missions.”

“I know, y/n.” Luke said, taking in a breath. “But the Jedi council thinks that it is best to err on the side of caution right now. The outer rim is dangerous and the Empire is growing. And we’ve seen their desperate interest in capturing young force-sensitive beings.”

You cross your arms and turn to look at the Mandalorian. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you shook his hand.

“Why aren’t you just coming with me?” You say turning back to Luke. “What makes this random Mandalorian more capable than me? Why should I trust him?”

“I have other duties to respond to.” Luke says. “But y/n, Mando is the one who saved Grogu and delivered him to us. The Jedi council trusts him completely. He’s fought off the Empire– Moff Gideon, most notably– several times. He is the best one to have at your side if something goes wrong.”

Let out a breath, signalling your annoyance and you turn again to look into Mando’s visor. “Does he speak?” You say sarcastically while maintaining your stare at him.

“Not often.” Mando returns in a deep modulated voice. That voice, you recognize it. You have met him before, you know it. But where? Where could you have met him– then it hits you. The brothel. He was one of your few clients a couple months back when you were a sex worker!

A flood of memories come pouring in as your face gets red. You remember the one thing that made that week exciting, and it was the Mandalorian. He fucked you like no one else ever had. You were sore for days after. He gave you the best pleasure you had ever felt.

You try your best to gather your composure and act like nothing has happened. “So….so he’s just gonna co pilot on my way there?” You ask with your cheeks still slightly flush.

“Well...no.” Luke says. “You two will be traveling in Mando’s ship. The Razor Crest is essentially undetectable, and again, we think it’s best that your whereabouts remain unknown.” Mando visor is still glued on you. You look down and fidget with your fingers.

Luke senses your unease. “Listen, I know you’re not crazy about this arrangement, but you’ll be in good hands with Mando. Alright?” He says putting his hand on your shoulder.

“Okay.” You say back with a nervous half smile.

You and Mando walk in silence to the Crest and make your way up to the cockpit. You feel so unbelievably awkward. Does he remember you? He must. But he didn’t seem at all caught off guard when he was introduced to you?

The Crest departs and you two sit in deafening silence. All you can think about is how the last time you met, he was fucking you senseless over a dresser and wispering the dirtiest things in your ear.

Finally, you gain the courage and turn to him. “So...Do you remember me?” You say.

“Yes.” Mando returns looking straight ahead. He turns his head and looks at you. “Do the Jedi know that you’re a former whore?” He says casually.

“Yes.” You say, somewhat angered by the insulting insinuation. “Of course they know. But I’m not a former sex worker, per se. I only worked there for a week. Consider it a sabbatical from my Jedi training.”

“Interesting choice for a sabbatical.” Mando says.

You didn’t feel like explaining the actual reason for your working at the brothel. He was kind of rude and you owed him no explanation. At the same time, however, his shortness and nonchalant demeanor were kind of hot (actually very hot). He was so confident and sure of himself. He also smelled so good and his muscles were evident even under the beskar.

The trip is about two standard days, and since the Crest only had one sleeping area, you and Mando stopped off at some planet for the night to sleep and eat.

It was already dark by the time you and Mando made your way into town. Just walking down the street, people would move aside or step back for Mando. Nobody wanted to upset a Mandalorian, and you found it incredibly hot that he was so feared.

It was a very small town with only one tiny inn. You and Mando walked up to the front desk. “I need two adjacent rooms.” Mando says, throwing more than enough credits on the desk.

“I– I’m sorry sir, but we only have one vacancy tonight.” The woman at the front desk stutters.

You turn to Mando. “I can stay here and you can sleep on the Crest?” You offer as a solution.

“No.” Mando says. “I’m not leaving you alone. The whole reason I’m here is to protect you.”

Mando turns to the woman. “Does the room have two beds?”

“I’m sorry, but the room only has one bed sir.” The woman says apologetically.

Mando lets out a sigh. “Fine.” He says shortly. “We’ll take it.”

The room is pretty small, as is the bed. You wash up in the fresher and change into your sleep wear, which consists of a snug tank top and some loose cotton shorts. After you're done, Mando uses the fresher as you get in the bed.

Mando exists and sits on a chair in the corner of the room. He crosses his arms, stretches his legs out and puts his head back. “Get some sleep, we’re leaving early tomorrow.” Mando says.

You sit up in the bed. “Mando, we can both fit in the bed.” You say flatly.

“I’m fine.” He abruptly replies without lifting his head.

“Seriously, Mando, I don’t care. I’m gonna feel bad if you sleep on a chair. Come on.” You say.

Mando lets out a breath. “Fine.” He says as he gets up and walks towards the bed.

You scoot over as close to the wall as you can and face the wall. Mando strips off all of his armour except for his helmet and removes his gloves. He gets in the bed next to you, also facing the wall. There’s a good four inches between the two of you, and Mando made a point not to use the blanket.

You’re so glad he got in the bed with you. You want nothing more than for him to fuck you like he did before, and you can’t think of a better way to make that happen than sharing a bed with him. Slowly, you inch your way backwards until your butt is against his crotch. You remain still for a few minutes, but then slightly adjust your position so as to rub your ass into his groin.

Mando twitches at the feeling of you grinding against him and turns around so that you are back to back, trying his best to avoid an erection. But then, realizing he is too close to falling off the bed facing away from you, he turns back around. You shift once again, rubbing your ass against his hardening cock. Mando can’t tell if you are innocently trying to get comfortable or you are trying to tease him. Either way, this is a job for him, so he figures things should remain professional. You, however, were not relenting. Pretending to be drifting asleep, you again roll your ass over this now hard member.

Mando grunts and gets out of the bed and goes to the fresher. He turns on the faucet, takes off his helmet, and releases his long thick cock from the confines of his pants. Spitting into his hand, he gets right into it, taking his length and stroking it fast. He puts his free hand against the wall and puts his head down. He thinks about your tight pussy squeezing his cock as he jerks himself off, trying to get rid of his boner. He grunts as quietly as he can and stifles his moans. Thinking back to that day at the brothel, he thinks of you calling him daddy, begging for his cum; he imagines that your throat is between his large hand and the wall. He comes and lets out a deep breath.

You lie in bed, knowing and just barely hearing what he is doing in there. You are upset; you feel kind of rejected. But you’re not yet discouraged– you got him hard, why should you not reap the rewards? You decide to just double down and do it again, assuming that he won’t take a second trip to the fresher to jerk off.

Mando gets back in the bed, relieved that he had dealt with his erection and hoping you were asleep. But not any sooner did you start back up again. You move and rub your ass against his groin and let out the faintest moan. And just like that, you feel his cock grow hard against your butt.

He let out a hard sigh.

“Stop” he commanded, not bothering to whisper.

“Stop what?” You reply.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“Oh?” You say continuing to grind your ass against his bulge.

“And if you don’t stop, you’re the one whose going to be taking care of it this time.” He said as he lightly grabbed your throat.

Your arousal shoots up at his words and actions, and you can feel it in your pussy.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” You purr.

“What a fuckin tease you are.” He said shoving his bulge against your ass and tightening his grip on your throat.

“Mmmm, don’t act like you don’t like it, Mando.” You say. You pause for a moment and close your eyes. “I would finger myself every night thinking about the time you fucked me. I could feel you in between my legs for weeks after you left.”

Mando hums a sound of approval. “That’s right, pretty girl. No one will ever be able to fuck you the way I can.” He says slipping his hand into your shorts. His fingers glide along your soaking wet folds and you let out a whine.

“What a needy little thing you are, so fuckin desperate for me to fill your hole.” Mando starts pumping his middle finger in and out of you as his thumb rubs your clit.

“Fuck.” Mando growls. “I forgot just how tight this little cunt of yours is.”

Your moans get louder and your mouth opens wider as he picks up the pace. Mando moves his other hand from your throat to your mouth and pushes two fingers into your mouth. You suck them while continuing to moan.

“I went back to the brothel a week later, but they said you had left. I’ve fucked so many other whores since then but none were as good at you baby girl.” Mando says as he adds another finger.

Mando drives his fingers in you at an ungodly pace, hitting your G-spot over and over again. His thumb rubbing vigorously over your swollen nub.

“Fuck, I- I’m gonna cum.” You manage to say.

“Do it.” Mando commands and he grips your throat even tighter.

Your back arches and you grab Mando’s arm that’s fucking you with both your hands, digging your nails into his skin as your orgasm falls over you. You scream out his name and try to pull his hand out of your pussy, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge. But Mando nevertheless continues to rub your clit and finger you hard.

“Ohh, no, little girl. Try to push me away and I’ll just fuck you harder.” Mando says.

Your climax reaches its peak and Mando can feel his fingers getting clenched by your cunt. He finally slows down and pulls his fingers out of you, his grip on your neck loosening as well.

Mando unbuttons his pants and pulls out his throbbing erection. The feeling of it against your butt makes you jump. He yanks your shorts down. He rubs his head through your folds a few times before slowly beginning to enter you. You gasp and grab the sheets of the bed. Your mouth opens as wide as possible as you feel your cunt being impossibly stretched.

Mando lifts his head to watch your reaction. He loved the fact that just a third of his length completely destroyed you. Mando does a few slow thrusts with only half his cock to ready you for the rest. Just when it’s shifting from pain to pleasure, Mando shoves the rest of his length into you as hard as possible. You quite  literally scream at the top of your lungs. Mando knew exactly what he was doing, making you think he was going to ease you into it, before unapologetically thrusting all the way into your hole without any warning.

“Ahhh.” Mando grunts. “You’re the perfect little cocksleve for me.”

He trusts in and out of you while breathing heavily. The bed is banging against the wall every time he slams into you. The room next door is sure to hear but neither of you care.

Mando grunts and props himself up to lean on his elbow. He grabs your thigh and hooks it around his arm, getting a better angle and letting him fuck you faster and deeper. Your moans become outright screams as his unbelievably large cock rips you open. Anyone listening would surely think you were being tortured.

“Fu— fuck! Fuck yes daddy!” You manage to say between thrusts. Mando growls at your calling him daddy.

“You want me to cum inside your pretty little cunt?” Mando says.

You could barely speak, your mouth was wide open and your eyes had rolled to the back of your head. You’re able to muster out a “Y-yes.”

“Beg me.” Mando says as he grips your leg even harder. “Beg for my cum you little slut.”

“Please daddy, I– I want you to fill me up with– with your cum. Until it’s dri– dripping out of my pussy.” You say.

Mando moans and you can feel his cock tightening inside of you and his ropes of his cum coat your insides.

“Fuckkk.” Mando says pulling out of you.

You let out a high-pitched breath at the loss of his member. Mando puts his length back in his pants and sits up on his knees. He grabs one of your legs and swiftly slides you down the bed so he is on his knees in between your legs.

He aggressively pushes your legs further apart, looking down at your abused hole. His white juices are leaking out of it.

“Your pussy looks so pretty overflowing with my cum.” Mando says. He takes his middle finger and traces the lips of your cunt, then shoves it as far into you as it can go. You let out a yelp and your back arches at the pressure. “And I don’t want you wasting a single drop.” He repeats his action, plunging his finger into you. Pulling it out, he brings it to your lips and shoves it in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around it before he pulls it out.

“Mmmm I forgot how good you taste.” You say.

Mando leans over and grabs your shorts, and you pull them back on. Both you and Mando fall asleep quickly.

**********************************

“I should escort you on more of your missions.” Mando says slapping your ass as you walk out of the inn.

You look up at him. “I’ll make sure to tell Luke how pleased I was with your services.”

**********************************

Masterlist

[aspiring-holistic-otaku]

ok so here's the top 10 new manga I read this year (2020)

10. jujutsu kaisen

don't think much needs to be said here, it got an anime recently so it's been picking up steam but it's been good for a little while now, it's ongoing with 133 chapters so far and a big arc seems to be wrapping up right now so it's a good time to start

9. sidooh

samurai manga I picked up a few months ago following two brothers whose mother dies when leaving them with the last words "it is the fate of the weak to die", giving them an obsession with strength that leads them to fight their way up into their ranks of society, really great progression, great story and amazing aesthetic, interesting art style that's very inky but goes well with sword strokes and stuff like that, it's ongoing with 224 chapter so far and about two or three come out every month

8. my home hero

a doting father realizes his daughter is in danger and kills someone to protect her but the person he kills turns out to be linked to the Yakuza, he's a mystery book author and uses his knowledge to hide the body but some traces lead back to him and it leads into an ever unfolding battle with the Yakuza and police, currently ongoing with 79 chapters that come out approximately once a week

7. made in abyss

Don't think much needs to be said here again but, made in the abyss is a deceptively cutesy looking manga about a child looking for her mother in the deepest depths of the earth that hold the world's greatest mystery, on her journey she faces the most inhumane and monstrous things, currently has 56 chapters in frequent release dates but it's nearing the end so it might be a good time to pick it up if you haven't

6. usogui

as you can probably guess it's about gambling, really interesting mind game kind of manga with very nice action scenes sprinkled in and the illustrations are beautiful, that point cannot be understated (though to be fair it only really picks up in the art department & stays consistent around chapter 69), one of my favorite things about this was that the gambles themselves were actually really interesting and not just regular gambles slightly modified with ultra high stakes, it actually finished like 2 months ago with 539 chapters so everyone who picks it up from now on is really lucky to be able to read this in one go

5. clover

I had a phase earlier this year where I wanted to check out some delinquent manga and a friend of mine put me onto this as one of the classics and he was absolutely right it's amazing, it follows the same formula of new guy in town and meets a bunch of people who become friends but the camaraderie was really excellently done and the growth of all the characters and their different arcs was really something to see, like usogui the art didn't start out as nice as the picture I used but it does pick up and when it picks up it just picks up consistently and seeing the art and the story progress at the same time is something that's really nice, it's complete with 401 chapters

4. naruto (yes I really only read it for the first time this year)

not sure I need to say much here either,,, not sure why I didn't read it earlier but I'm glad I did, it's really good, I think it's greatness is undercut by a few weak moments that weren't even that bad and a couple under utilized characters in a cast that's really large anyways so... but really a touching story of bonds and the passing of the torch and how we treat one another and the effects that has down the line, complete with 700 chapters

3. setoutsumi

a nice, highly comedic slice of life, really funny with some serious down to earth moments and lessons, a really touching ending, complete with only 73 chapters, highly recommend, really good (I actually read it twice back to back, that good)

2. yotsuba to!

YOTSUBA!!!! just the life of a curious kid, her dad n those around them but like... it's 99% impossible to be in a bad mood while reading this, gotten me out of a funk more times than I can count, genuinely funny, beautiful illustrations, wish I could be like them, ongoing with 107 chapters and an irregular release schedule (also it's by the same guy that did nichijou)

1. golden kamuy

man... such a goated manga, actually saw it on here a few years ago but just got to it this year, very hard to accurately describe without understating how good it is so I won't even try honestly but it's ridiculously funny, amazing action sequences, one of the best cast of characters I've ever seen just absolutely brilliant, currently ongoing with 263 chapters but it looks like it might be wrapping up in like a year or two so it's a great time to pick it up, absolutely definitely highly recommend

honourable mentions:

1. dead dead demon's dededede destruction

2. toilet bound hanako kun

3. kimetsu no yaiba

4. blue flag

5. gokushufudou: the way of the house husband

6. acca 13 territory inspection department

7. blue period

8. welcome to the ballroom

9. beastars

10. spy x family

PS: gonna go ahead and shamelessly mention that I also run an animanga aesthetic sideblog over @moodthroughmanga you can check out if you're into that kind of thing