#thin people have problems too imagine that

[hoonsluvr]

CHERRY

박성훈 ꒰ park sunghoon ꒱ — genre; summer au, best friend’s older brother, forbidden romance, smut, a bit of fluff, angst ୨ৎ cw; p in v, unprotected sex, spit, choking, gagging, oral f.rec, mating press, edging MDNI. ⟡ synopsis; you never thought that an unexpected obsession formed during your trip to southern italy would teach you one life’s cruelest lessons — never fuck your bestfriend’s brother ୨ৎ wc; 4.8k — library ⭑.ᐟ

inspired by; cherry - lana del rey

isla yaps; hii, this is my first work so i’m a bit nervous!! lmk what you think of the layout and feedback in general is appreciated! :)

Was it wrong that you felt happy when your parents announced they wanted to take a vacation alone this year?

You sit opposite them at the dining table, your mom explaining herself for the hundredth time over. Clearly she felt guilty about it but you didn't mind. “You know its our anniversary during that time darling and I hope you understand that we love having you with us, of course we do, but 50th anniversaries are rather special and we’re booking a honeymoon resort.”

You feign a look of sadness to act like you’re listening but your mind is already elsewhere. It wasn’t that you didn’t like spending time with your parents, that wasn’t the problem at all, but now that a family vacation was out of the picture, joining Stella’s family in Italy was back in the conversation.

Soojin, or Stella as she liked to be called was your best friend, your ride or die. Years ago, when you moved to a new town, the Park family were your next door neighbours and you and Stella quickly became close, bonding over your hatred for the town and its people. You two had always felt suffocated in its environment, the way everyone knew everyone’s drama, everyone’s problems, everyone’s secrets. You promised each other that one day you would escape and explore the world together for that very reason.

You were over at her house so much that you were basically a part of the family. You had your thumbprint on their security system, the password to the garage door, and even your own designated chair at the dining table. Her mom used to jokingly call you two sisters, but honestly, that didn’t feel far off. You and Stella had grown up together, seen all of each other’s phases too. The cringe phase, the boy-obsessed phase, oh god- the emo phase, and yet your friendship was still going strong. From weekend sleepovers where you giggled and gossiped all night long to crying on each other’s shoulders after not feeling accepted in school, to smoking your first blunt together, you two had been through every whirlwind experience together. After all these years, you still struggled to express just how much admiration you held for her.

And now, it had come. This was the last summer you had left with her. In 3 months you were going to head North to New York City, to pursue a degree in arts while Stella would remain in your hometown. When you broke the news, you expected her to be angry at you because of the promise you made to travel together forever, but she simply smiled and told you she was proud of you and that she always knew you would make it far.

You felt a pit in your stomach thinking about being apart, you had never really imagined life without her, so imagine your relief and excitement when she proposed that you join her family on their vacation to Italy this summer. One last chance to have the time of your life with your best friend while you were both still young? No one could catch you dead saying no.

-

“Mom, please.” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from frustration. You sit across from her on the kitchen island, sipping on a mango smoothie as she prepped dinner for tonight. At this point, the conversation had been going on for far too long and both of you were running thin on patience. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let me go.” You huffed, used to getting your way.

Your mother sighs. “Sweetie, I’ve explained this to you. The Parks have done so much for you, your entire life! I just don’t want you to be a burden on them when they’re trying to have a family vacation. They're extremely sweet for offering but it’s a tough situation.”

“Ugh!” You exclaim and your mother shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. “They offered to have me! And besides, with you and daddy going to Mexico and Stella going to Italy, I’m going to be alone this summer. My last summer before college is going to be spent wasting away. It’ll be years before I see Stella again!” You pout, your eyes sparkling with hope as you see her expression soften, triumphant that you clearly struck a soft spot.

“We’ll see about it darling.” She sighs.

Even with her weary expression, all the tell-tale signs were there. She had been convinced. You stand up, satisfied as you go to text Stella the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the South of Italy for three weeks with the Parks: Stella, her mother and father, and her older brother Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had always been a little shy and introverted making him hard to talk to, your four year age gap not doing much to help create a relationship either. Despite that, Sunghoon had always tried being sweet to you. After many attempts of trying to talk to him over the years, you finally managed to break his shell the one time he rescued your prized possession, a teddy bear plush named Ben, from a tree branch. You still remember the warm hug he gave you when you cried over Ben’s stitching being torn and ever since that day, although you wouldn’t call yourself friends, the relationship shifted. It changed from nods of acknowledgement to smiles, from waves of greeting to hugs.

During your last years of middle school, you even developed a small crush on him but you never once told Stella, knowing she would have killed you. Once you turned fourteen, Sunghoon left to go for college and you hadn’t seen him since then. You had no idea what he was like now, his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests. Honestly, the thought worried you a little. You just decided you would try sticking to Stella on the trip, hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward.

Only if you knew. Only if you knew what was about to happen, you never would’ve chosen to go on that godforsaken trip.

-

The last minute nature of your decision to join the vacation meant that tickets weren’t available on the same flight as the Parks, so you booked one for a flight that arrived in Italy just two days later. You didn’t mind however, you were just excited to spend time with Stella.

And so you arrive in the quaint beach town of Taormina, located on the shorelines of the island of Sicily. The drive from the airport to your location spans over rugged hills overlooking the Loian sea. You maintain small talk with the barely english speaking driver, chatting about what to do in town and what beaches to visit. A gasp leaves your mouth as the taxi comes to a halt outside a stunning Italian villa style Airbnb. You know the Parks aren’t exactly middle class, neither were you, but you weren’t expecting this much grandeur.

Cobblestone bricks line the pathway to the house, leaning up against the ivy covered walls. Heaps of colorful potted flowers are placed at the entrance and a wooden gazebo in the corner catches your eye. Stella is sitting in the gazebo, sipping tea. When she sees you, she jumps up in excitement and rushes over.

“You’re here!” She squeals and twirls you around as you both laugh excitedly. You hear claps of joy from the back as Shin-ah, Stella’s mom steps out of the front door, her husband, Ji-hun in close pursuit. You quickly wish the driver goodbye and thank him before hugging them both fondly.

“Gosh, we only just saw you a month ago and you’ve already become prettier!” Shin-ah exclaims, making you blush and immediately resort to your usual ‘humble’ deflections that you recited out like a poem whenever she complimented you.

You lean to the side, getting up onto your tip-toes to get a glimpse of the dark haired boy who just stepped out of the door. Sunghoon. His short black hair was now grown out into a mullet and he no longer held the smiley expression that his face once always used to carry. You glance at his arms, his thin tank top showing off his muscles, a striking difference to his previously scrawny build. He looks so different. He’s grown now and more confident, no longer the sweet, shy boy you used to crush on. Theres no doubt, Sunghoon Park has matured. He’s a man now. A fucking gorgeous man, that too.

Sunghoon murmurs a half-hearted greeting towards you, reminiscent of the way he used to speak to you before you two became comfortable. You’re not surprised-it had been years since you’d seen him. Traces of your previous dynamics were long gone by now. You return the soft greeting as Shin-ah ushers you into the house, Stella following behind, wheeling your luggage in.

“You must be hungry, come, we’ve already set the table.” And sure enough, the intricately carved wooden dining table was all set up with dishes, cutlery and a large pizza in the centre. Dinner with the Parks is comfortable as you go back and forth with them, discussing the trip’s itinerary, recent stories and more.

Shin-ah glances at Sunghoon before turning back to you. “So, you and Sunghoon haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s been asking what you’ve been up to.” It was horribly obvious that Sunghoon couldn’t care less about what you’d been up to. His mouth opens in annoyance at his mother’s words. “What? No I—" But he’s cut off by a sharp nudge from his father who scowls at him. Embarrassment pools inside of you and you laugh awkwardly before Shin-ah nods encouragingly for you to continue.

“Well uh— I’m going to NYU after this summer. I’m going to be studying art history and I’m hoping to get an internship with a local gallery this summer, after the trip of course. But yeah…” You trail off awkwardly as Sunghoon pretends to be interested. An awkward atmosphere settles over the table and you finish in silence.

After dinner, you head up to your room that you’ll be sharing with Stella. You’re sitting on the floor, unpacking your suitcase while she removes her makeup.

“Hey,” she turns to you, “I’m sorry about what happened with Hoon earlier. I don’t know why he’s acting like that.”

You wave it off. “No, don’t worry about it at all, it’s all good. I’m sure it’ll settle down in a while.”

She nods comfortingly but deep down you feel a little hurt. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same but you didn’t expect him to be so cold.

-

After a few chaotic days of what felt like never-ending sightseeing and cold shoulders from Sunghoon, you finally collapse onto a picnic blanket out in the back-garden, your white sundress pooling around your knees. You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs into the air as you grab your book, the pages soft between your hands as you slowly flip through, trying to find where you left off. Pop. The sound of plastic popping as you open the box of glowing red cherries next to you. Your favorite.

You're a few pages in when a soft voice calls from behind you. “Hey.” You glance behind to see him standing there in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, holding a book. He laughs softly as you scramble to straighten yourself. “No need for that, you can sit however you want.”

“No, no it's okay,” you shake your head, sitting up straight now, confused at his cheerful demeanour “what do you need?”

“I was wondering if I could join you,” he tilted his head, “you seem to be having fun.”

You squeeze internally. Something about Sunghoon was making you nervous right now but you plaster on a sweet smile nonetheless, “of course.”

You’re hyperaware of his every movement as he approaches and sits down next to you on the blanket. He holds up the book he had and it takes you a second to realise that both of you had gotten the same book to read, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You smile at him, “that’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums. “How’s Ben doing?”

You laugh, the anxious feeling in your stomach fading a little. There’s no need to be nervous in the first place, it’s just Sunghoon. “He’s doing okay. No more accidents since the last.”

The two of you fall into silence. He coughs. "Listen... I uh— I didn't mean to act that way when you first came."

You nod almost immediately. "You don't have to explain yourself, I get it, it's fine."

"No, I was acting like a jerk for no reason. I mean- you know how I am with people at first and I hadn't seen you in a while, it just took me a while to get used to. That's not an excuse for how I acted though, I'm sorry."

You peer at him. "I get it, I figured that's the reason you were acting distant. It's okay. I'm glad we can be pause normal again." You both look at each other and for a second you feel him glance at your lips but his eyes move away so fast, it's impossible to tell. He smiles softly at you.

-

Your legs are crossed as you lounge lazily on a chair on the balcony, taking in the view of the salty sea, waves lapping against the rocks. Once again, a box of perfectly round Italian cherries lay on the table behind you. You couldn't seem to get enough of them.

“You must really like these.” Sunghoon murmurs from behind you, pointing at the box of the sweet fruit. You smile lazily at him, not surprised by his interruption. Somehow, he had been finding you in all sorts of odd places recently, almost as if he was looking for you from the second you disappeared from view. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sunghoon thought you were pretty. You realised fairly quickly from the way his eyes flicked up and down whenever he saw you, resting on your tits for just a second more.

“They’re my favorite.” You nod, grabbing one and popping it into your mouth as he watches. Maybe it's the way he’s staring at you hungrily but a newfound confidence takes over you. You reach for another cherry but this time, you make sure to hold eye contact with him, looking up with big bambi eyes as your tongue swirls around the sweet fruit. You bite into it and the red juice dribbles down your chin, your eyes glinting. His finger instinctively reaches down, a millimetre away from your chin before you nod to give him permission.

He swipes at the juice on your chin, before pulling his finger back, licking it slowly. Your throat suddenly feels like it’s constricting. You should not be doing this— holy shit you should not be doing this. You stand abruptly, coughing slightly. He doesn’t react much but a slight smirk plays on his face. Pause. “I should go,” you stutter as you rush into the house, heart hammering in your chest.

You try your best to ignore him for the next few days because you had no idea what possessed you to do that. Your mind constantly replayed the moment. The way he stared at you. The way he touched you. The way he licked his finger. God you were so fucked. Every time you saw Stella, you couldn’t help but feel guilty but then you tried comforting yourself. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, nothing actually happened.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing at first, your actions seemingly innocent in your mind. You just wanted to make the most of the summer clothes you owned and the heat in Taormina was intense, right? But your skirts were growing shorter and shorter by the day, your bikinis became skimpier and skimpier. That, accompanied by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when he came around, batted your eyelashes at him, knowing it made him crazy-you hadn’t even realised but that little incident between the two of you had made you develop a little obsession with Sunghoon Park, just like the one you had all those years ago. And you were desperate for his attention now.

Right from your shiny olive skin that glistened in the Italian sun to your long hair that swayed as you walked, Sunghoon Park knew you were gorgeous, even more so now that you were making it painfully obvious. He knew. He knew you were doing all of this entirely on purpose but that didn’t mask his staring as you lather on sunscreen, resting beside him in the sand in a floral pink bikini.

You know you have him.

"Hey can you help me with this?" You ask softly, holding out the bottle of sunscreen towards him. His jaw ticks but he takes the bottle from your hand.

"Actually," you smile sweetly, "on second thought, I think I'm done, what do you think?"

If looks could kill, you would strike dead at this very moment from the way he was looking at you. “What’s your game?”

You stare at him, not expecting him to say those words so soon. “What do you mean?” You pout, pretending to be oblivious, a little upset that you didn't get to have that much fun with him before he called you out.

He scoffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. You like teasing me and then pulling away at the last moment, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, his expression hardens. “You’re trying to win a game you don’t even know how to play.”

Before you get the chance to respond, the two of you are interrupted as Stella runs to you, laughing.

“Hey are you having fun?” Stella smiles down at you.

“I’m having a great time, thanks.”

She nods as she moves to sit down on the sand, between you and Sunghoon.

Theres a moment of silence before you speak. “Hey Stells, thank you for letting me come. I appreciate it a lot. I would’ve had a terrible summer without you and I’m just really glad we get to spend time together before … you know …”

She smiles at you again. A genuine smile. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot. And I know you’re worried but i’m not, because I know we’ll always be friends. We’ve been through everything together and stupid New York isn’t going to change that.” As she pulls you in for a hug, you feel a pang in your heart. You love your friend and the last thing you want is for her older brother to come between you. But you just can’t help yourself.

You glance up at Sunghoon who's watching you two hug with an emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place. He meets your eyes and you shut yours, unable to look at him any longer. You hold onto Stella tighter, suddenly feeling disgusted with yourself. You're sickening. Sickening and selfish.

-

Your phone screen shows 4:36AM and sleep wasn’t coming. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you glance at Stella snoring beside you. You get out of bed slowly, the wood creaking beneath you. You desperately needed a walk to clear your mind. Stepping into your fuzzy slippers, you leave the room, entering the narrow corridor outside. Sunghoon’s door stands tall in front of your face, which you would have normally ignored, except today, streaks of light peek out of the crack at the bottom. Why is he awake?

You know you shouldn’t. You know you really shouldn’t but you do it anyways. You knock softly. A few moments pass and you think he might not come. Right as you’re about to leave, the door clicks open and he stands there in grey sweats, shirtless. You choke a little but he doesn’t notice, neither does he seem surprised to see you.

He looks you up and down and you realise what you’re wearing—a tiny pink lace-trim nightgown, barely covering anything. He’s smirking now. “Come in.”

“Uh I—“ You start to say as you begin to regret your decision but you’re cut off by his harsh tone, his smirk now faded, replaced with a hardened expression.

“That wasn't a question. Come. In.”

You swallow nervously as you follow him into the room and shut the door behind you. Sunghoon sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to stand in front of him. You do as he asks and now you're staring down at his face, your silky hair hanging loosely, brushing against his cheeks. He starts to grab harshly at your waist and you gasp slightly.

"You think this is funny huh? Playing all these games? Do you have any idea what you're doing at all?" When you don't respond he starts again. “What? Cat got your tongue? Are you all nervous now? Don't be, you started this after all."

You breathe out shakily, hands finding his neck. "Please—"

"Please what?" His smirk is back, he likes that he's finally the one in control. "Say you want me."

"God I want you, I do." You whine pathetically. And whatever little power you may have had over him was gone, he had claimed it back. His dark eyes glint sinisterly as he stands, picking you up by the waist and placing you down onto the bed. Your legs are raised, being held up by his hands as he presses kisses on your left ankle. He slowly makes his way down, nuzzling his nose into your inner thighs. His teeth lock onto your panties and you gasp as he drags them off, discarding them on the floor, leaving you exposed.

"Fuck you're beautiful."

He dives in again, his nose pressing against your clit as he laps harshly at your folds. You throw your head back, a jerk reaction to the sudden sensitivity. You cry out and feel him immediately stop what he was doing. You whine softly in annoyance. "Wow baby, it seems like you really want my sister to know I'm fucking you right now." You swallow harshly as his eyes shoot daggers at you. "Keep. Quiet."

He's looking at your pussy now. You wait, burning to see what he would do. And he spits on it. You gasp, biting your lip to stop the moan. He spits right on your pussy, using his fingers to spread his saliva around your messy area. He begins to lick up your folds again, pressing his tongue down on your clit.

You can't handle it. It's pathetic but you already feel a knot building up in your stomach. "Hoon— I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he spits out, coming up.

You moan weakly in protest but he doesn't seem to care. "You don't deserve to cum yet. You've not been a very good girl have you?" You shake your head.

His hands reach for his pants now, pulling them down in one quick move and you could see how painfully hard he is. Your eyes widen as he pulls out his cock. It was big. Too big. Bigger than you'd ever had before and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it. He laughs, looking at your expression. "Don't worry baby, we'll make it fit."

He pushes your legs up all the way and you were practically bent in half in front of him, your knees blurrily shifting in and out of your peripheral vision. He lines his cock up with your entrance and rubs the tip across your wet folds, groaning softly as his eyes shut. Without warning, he pushes it in and you shriek in surprise, causing him to shove his fingers into your throat. You're choking around his fingers now as he thrusts into you, quickening the pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag, you're close again, you can feel it, but so can he. Just as you're about to reach your high, he stops his motion again and you lean back into the bed, panting hard. You're desperate for release now but as you stare up at his fucked out face through your lashes, smirking down at you, you know he's not going to give you that release anytime soon.

So you go four more rounds. Four more rounds of chasing that desperate high that he pulls away from you at the last moment. You're fucked up now, sweating and panting, your hair splayed across your face as you cried and cried, begging him. The sun had risen now and it pooled in through the window, enveloping you in a warm glow, making your tan skin look golden.

"God baby, you look so fucking sexy right now." Sunghoon reaches an arm towards the desk nearby, where a small pile of digital cameras lay. Stella's digital cameras. The one's she had excitedly bought for the trip, wanting to capture every memory. He points the lens of one of them at you and you don't even have enough energy to protest. Click. And just like that, a picture of you in one of your most fucked up moments was captured forever. He tosses the camera aside, turning his attention back to you.

"You up for one more?"

Strings of gibberish come out from your mouth and he chuckles as he pushes into you once again. He thrusts in and out and you're moaning loudly this time but neither of you cared anymore. You're so sensitive at this point that it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to arise again. This time, Sunghoon lets you have it. You let out a strangled moan as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Pure fucking euphoria. He collapses on top of you after cumming as well. You reach out, your hands tangling in his hair, stroking his face gently.

You realise you haven't kissed yet. You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his pink lips. He kisses you back immediately but there is no lust behind it. "You're a goddess, you know that?" He speaks, muffled against your arm. You laugh this time, reaching for the camera next to you. Click. Another picture. But this one is much cuter, the two of you staring into the camera, laughing as your arms are wrapped around him. Click. And another. He's kissing you and you just want to stay in this moment forever.

-

The remainder of the vacation is spent stealing glances and kisses with Sunghoon as you two sneak away at random times together. You visited his room every night, sometimes it was sex and sometimes you just wanted to cuddle.

If there was one thing you were sure of by the end of the vacation, it's that you were madly, madly in love with him. And he was in love with you too.

-

1 month later

You step into your room, flopping onto the bed, exhausted from your shift at the gallery. You pull out your phone to texts from both Stella and Sunghoon. Sunghoon's reads 'see you tomorrow :)' while Stella had texted to cancel your bar plans for the night, wanting to hang out at home instead. You almost feel relieved, too tired to even think of going to the bar. Instead, you quickly change your clothes and head over to the house next door. Shin-ah opens the door and she's delighted to see you as ever.

After exchanging some small talk, you head upstairs to Stella's room, briefly glancing at Sunghoon's door.

"Hey Ste—“ You stop. She isn't there.

You look around, confused for a moment before realising she's sitting outside on the balcony.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile at her as you take the seat beside her.

She doesn't respond, staring straight ahead into the pink sky. She's holding an envelope, nothing too special, just a plain white envelope.

"Do you know what this is?" She speaks for the first time, holding the envelope up, still refusing to look at you.

Your eyebrows furrow. "No?"

She breathes out, finally turning to meet your eyes. You recoil slightly when you see the wild anger looking straight at you. She opens the envelope slowly, almost teasingly. "You know..." She trails, "I recently sent in the film from the trip to be developed."

Your stomach drops.

She knows.

The envelope is finally open and she pulls out three photos. The first one of you laid down on the bed, fucked out with his cock still inside you, then you and Sunghoon are hugging naked, then you're kissing.

You're going to throw up.

"Look at me." She speaks softly, gently, but her voice is full of venom.

You look up to meet her eyes but you just can't do it. Your world is spinning.

"I want you to go to New York," her voice drops to a whisper, "and never come back. I never want to see you again. I never want you to see my brother ever again. Do you understand?"

You're nodding now, pleading silently, tears streaming down your face but you know it's not going to do anything.

She takes your nod as a yes. "Good, then we're clear."

[monzabee]

i desperately need nanny!reader and jealous!hotch. maybe reader have a date (that didn’t end well) and afterwards something happens between her and hotch… i just need something steamy to happen tbh

also how old is nanny!reader according to you?

date night (gone wrong) - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: hotch recruits help to make sure the nanny’s date is not a serial, it’s definitely not because he has feelings for her.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: jealous and posessive aaron (finally), feelings galore, kissing, mentions of a bad date 

Author's Note: thank you so much for your request and i hope you like it!!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Aaron convinces himself that it is for the best. And perhaps, it is. He doesn't need to feel this way—jealous, possessive—but somehow, when he sees you slipping into that dress, he is a goner.  

Black, skintight, and short, it is enough to drive crazy on its own if he were to imagine you in it. But actually see you walk out of his house wearing it? 

It’s a big problem. 

A very specific kind of problem that tightens in his chest and coils low in his gut. 

Jack had run up to hug you goodbye, completely unaware that his father was standing there, stunned silent, jaw locked, and fists clenched just out of your view. You’d looked over your shoulder to say something, he can’t even remember what, but the flash of a smile, the tilt of your head, and the bare expanse of your legs had him swallowing hard. 

“I’ll be back before midnight,” you’d said sweetly, adjusting the strap on your purse. “Try to be good for your dad, okay?” 

He’d barely managed a goodbye. Because how was he supposed to let you go when you were walking out the door looking like that? 

And with him? 

Your date had pulled into the driveway with his engine too loud and his sunglasses still on, even though the sun had set a long time ago. Aaron watched from the window, watched you wave and laugh as you slid into the car, his car, and drove off into the evening. And how could he be sure that he was a good driver? How could he be assured that he wasn’t going to get you in an accident which could end up in you getting hurt? 

So, he told himself it was because he wanted to make sure the man wasn’t a criminal. That it was just protocol. But that excuse thinned out the second he called Garcia to dig up a background check. Just in case. 

And now? Sitting alone in the dark with a glass of scotch he doesn't even want, Aaron realizes the truth: he's never wanted to punch a man more in his life. He’s never also wanted to punch himself more in his life for suggesting that you should try dating other people, but that’s a whole other story.  

He’s still on the couch when the sound of your key in the lock breaks the silence. 

It’s 11:56. 

You step in quietly, slipping off your heels by the door. He hears the faint clink of your purse hitting the entryway table, then the soft shuffle of your feet against the hardwood. 

Aaron doesn’t move. Not until you sigh. 

A quiet, tired, defeated little sound that lodges itself right into his chest. 

You’re in the same dress—minus your heels, and your makeup is smudged in a way that has nothing to do with laughter, passion or good conversation. Your expression is sour, your lips pressed into a line. 

“Hey,” you murmur, as you step into the living room and realize he’s still up. You take a few steps and drop yourself onto the armchair across from the one he’s sitting in. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours. You look… not upset exactly. But not like someone who had a good time either. “Hey,” he echoes, setting his glass down. “You’re early.” 

“Date from hell.” You respond, not choosing to elaborate, since you know he’ll understand just how bad it was from your lack of explanation.  

He doesn’t respond. Not right away. Because part of him is already, shamefully, thrilled.  But the lack of words on your part doesn’t stop him from asking, “What happened?” 

“He was rude to the waitress. Talked about his ex-girlfriend half the night. Called me a babysitter like it was a bad thing. Then he tried to kiss me in the parking lot and got pissy when I didn’t let him.” The shudder that goes through you is enough to send Aaron snapping. 

His jaw clenches so tightly it hurts, and his fingers curl into fists against his thighs. He’s up before he even knows it, crossing the room with a kind of restrained intensity that sets your heart hammering. 

“Did he touch you?” he asks, voice low and dark. Deadly calm. The kind that would make you scared for your life if you didn’t know he’s not capable of hurting you in any way.  

“What? No!” You shake your head, your face scrunched up in disgust. “No. I got in my Uber and left before he could try again.” 

He breathes, but it doesn’t ease the storm behind his eyes. You’ve seen him like this before—when someone threatens Jack. Or when a case hits too close to home. But never over you. 

Never like this. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that,” he says, and there’s steel in his voice now. “You shouldn’t have to pretend to be interested. You shouldn’t have to settle.” 

You cross your arms—not out of defiance, but to hold yourself together, and it nearly drives Aaron insane because you push up your breasts without even intending to. “I wasn’t settling!” 

His eyes meet yours, sharp and knowing, and he tilts his head to the side in a knowing way. “Weren’t you?” 

You flinch at the honesty of it, at the way it lands squarely in your chest. You’d tried. Tried to date someone nice, someone safe. Someone who wasn’t Aaron. But it had felt wrong the entire night. “You told me to go,” you whisper. “You said I should date other people. That I—” 

“I know what I said,” he cuts in, voice rough. “And I lied. I lied because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought…” He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I thought if I wanted what was best for you, it couldn’t be me.” You don’t answer him right away, not knowing how to choose the right words, and he takes it as a sign to continue. “I live a complicated life. I have a son. A demanding job. I don’t always get to come home on time. Sometimes I come home broken. And I thought someone else could give you something easier. Something… simpler.” 

He’s looking at you now like it’s the first time he’s let himself really look. The way you hold yourself. The faint smudge of mascara beneath your eyes. The way your shoulders sag like you’re tired of pretending.  

You feel exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. He is so tall, even when he is sitting down with a drink in his hand. “If I didn’t know any better,” you start, leaning towards him, “I’d say you were jealous.”  

“Do you?” He asks, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, “Know better?” 

Your lips part in a silent shock. “What are you saying right now?” 

“I’m saying I hated watching you walk out that door tonight.” His hand brushes your arm, trails up to your shoulder. “I hated knowing someone else was going to touch you, even just your hand, even for a second.” 

Your breath catches. “You told me to go,” you remind him. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “And it was the biggest mistake I’ve made in a long time.” 

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you move. Then you whisper, “So fix it.” You glance over at him then, the corner of your mouth twitching, something unreadable in your eyes. “You jealous, Aaron?” 

The question hangs there, naked and daring. Kind of like you are, minus the naked part—though you wouldn’t object if he asked you to. 

His eyes meet yours. He doesn’t look away this time. 

“Yes.” It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that prickles under your skin. 

You blink. “Seriously?” 

He nods once, slow. “Painfully.” 

A beat. 

Then you stand up and walk over to him. 

Climb into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And he lets you. You’re straddling him now, your dress riding up, your palms pressed to his chest. Your legs bracketing his. You’re so close now, so unbearably close, and he realizes just how well you fit together, as if you were always meant to be. 

“I wanted to call you all night,” he admits, voice low and rough. “Wanted to tell you not to go. That I couldn’t stand the idea of someone else making you laugh, touching you, kissing you.” 

Your pulse spikes. Your knees feel unsteady even though you are sitting down on his lap. “And now?” you whisper, barely audible. 

His eyes drop to your lips. Then back up. “Now I’m going to kiss you,” he says, “unless you tell me not to.” 

You don’t. 

You couldn’t even if you tried. 

So, when his mouth finds yours, it’s with months, or maybe a year, of pent-up longing behind it. It’s not gentle. It’s not cautious. 

It’s desperate. And it’s perfect. 

[sincerelyneo]

golden hour | l.mk

“i’ve got a really big problem…”

💿now playing: golden hour by mark

❯ summary: Mark’s got a really big problem; you. The pretty neighbour that shares a bedroom wall with him. You’re a night owl and you’re so loud and are you…listening to his music whilst masturbating…? Fuck now he’s hard. Guess he’s got two really big problems.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: neighbours, smut

❯ words: 2.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, masturbation, mark’s a loser for the plot, very explicit details of sexual fantasies, reader uses she/her pronouns and female gendered terms, literally just mark being horny whilst reader gets off to his song.

Mark needs to move out. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take the old run-down building his apartment is located in having no working elevator. If you’d have told him two years ago when he signed his dream music contract with a real record label that he’d be climbing six flights of stairs after a long week of work he’d have called you a liar. But that’s what happens when people aren’t listening to your music. 

Maybe he's overreacting; the building isn’t that terrible. It has its perks—like the pretty view. And it’s usually quiet—well, it was until his lively new neighbor moved in. Mark might have thought of you as a perk when he first saw you, considering you’re exactly his type, so fucking beautiful. But you’re also so fucking loud.

You always seem to have something going on—plans, hobbies, parties, meetings, friends. Mark knows because the walls between you and him are thin, and you’re never quiet, never still. At first, he thought it was kind of cute, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realises he’s been so distracted by how attracted he is to you, he’s been letting your noisy lifestyle slide.

It’s not like he wants to knock on your door and ask you to keep it down; he’s too worried you’d think he’s some kind of loser. Even at twenty-five, he still craves female validation like he’s a high schooler—so he’s been putting up with the sleepless nights. Another reason why he needs to move asap. 

The lack of sleep, combined with the endless stairs, has left Mark drained this past month. He can practically hear his sofa calling his name, can taste the cold bottles of beer that sit in his fridge as he reaches the top step. He may be a tad out of breath and a little sweaty but he’s got the weekend off and that’s all he can think about. But unlike you, Mark’s life is boring. The most exciting thing about his weekend is the idea of not having to climb his complex’s stairs until Monday. 

Meh. He could dwell on the mundane schedule of his life for hours but he gets distracted. Distracted by his pretty little nightmare neighbour. 

You're all dressed up in a tight gold dress that clings to every inch of your body. Your hair falls down your back as you lock your door, tucking the keys into the tiny clutch hanging from your shoulder.

That’s when you notice him too.

“Oh, hey,” you greet him softly, offering a bright and friendly smile. 

Mark returns it, his chest swelling. There's no denying you’re a beautiful girl. And although he’s overheard your phone calls about parties through the thin walls, and the hum of your hair dryer as you get ready for nights out, he’s never actually seen you in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. He’s never been given the opportunity to see you so dolled up, to notice the little love handles he can all of a sudden imagine himself gripping. He clears his throat and smiles wider.

“Hi Y/N…you look nice!” He compliments kindly, fingers fiddling with his own keys. 

Nice? 

The word replays in his mind. He’s spent endless nights thinking about how beautiful you are and now he’s finally got to feed his craving of seeing you in tight clothes but the only word he can muster up is nice? Oh he hates himself. 

But then he sees you blush at the comment, and he loves the way you purse your lips, trying to hide a shy smile. A part of him is annoyed that you’re blushing over something so simple—he thinks every man should be showering you with compliments, and you should expect more than nice. Still, there’s something about the way you squirm from his words that has his cock throbbing.

He wonders if it’s because you’re attracted to him too. It’s not completely out of the question. You know who he is, of course you do. You see each other in passing a lot but you’ve also spoken on the day you moved in. Mark remembers it like it was yesterday. 

He could hear you panting and cursing in the hall, hauling boxes up and down the stairs before he came out to help. You didn’t recognise him at first, not until he was in your apartment setting boxes down.

That’s when you turned to him with wide eyes and a breathy, “oh wow, aren’t you the dude that sang ‘Golden Hour’?”

Mark started blinking at you like a deer in the headlights. He’d never encountered a fan in person before, he had a small community online, but his music hadn’t exactly been taking off like he planned. So you can imagine his surprise when his new (extremely attractive) neighbour knew one of his songs. 

“Thank you,” your soft voice breaks him from his memory, and moves his focus. “Just a night out with the girls, been a long week,” you sigh. 

He wants to hear all about your long week, wants to be the one to make it better—maybe convince you to skip the girls’ night and spend it with him instead. But he doesn’t. He doesn't even let the thought linger for more than a moment before he’s nervously tapping his key against his thumb.

“Well have fun, and be safe,” he settles on tenderly. 

You nod with a small smile, giving a gentle wave before turning to leave. He watches you until you’ve rounded the corner, only then unlocking his door and kicking off his shoes with a sigh.

Mark grabs a bottle of beer from the kitchen, kicking the fridge door closed behind him. His entire apartment is dark and it reminds him of the loneliness he’s been feeling for the last six months. Mark never really thought about love and relationships before he met you. Sure, he likes to fool around as much as the next person, but he’s always been fine with being on his own. But you remind him of the lonely. 

He’s never longed for love and friendships but a secret part of him craves a woman by his side… craves the woman next door.

He wonders what it’d be like for you to be cuddled into his side as you watch a movie. Wonders if you’d laugh at certain parts and crane your neck up to pepper tender kisses to his soft lips. Mark squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, tries to rid the thoughts of you from his mind.

But it’s proven a little more difficult when he moves from the couch to take a shower and the water is running down his tense and naked body. He struggles to not think about you on your knees, touching his thick cock and kissing up his thighs.

He has to swallow back the lump in his throat and blinks away the urge to touch himself to the thought of you. He refuses to be that kind of guy. He’s not that kind of guy. So he gets out the shower and does the only thing he likes doing — music. 

Mark tries out new melodies on his guitar, humming broken lyrics and soft tunes he’ll be sure to show his producer on Monday. After a while he catches sight of the clock on the wall and it’s already a little past midnight. After locking his doors he’s crawling into bed and ready to sleep; but then he hears something. 

A soft giggle muffled from the wall behind his head. 

Mark’s fully aware the two of you share the same wall for your beds, rooms mirroring each other, but he’s never heard this kind of sweet giggle fall from your lips so late at night. He tries not to let the sound affect him, but there’s only one reason why a girl like you could be giggling at this hour after a night out. 

You’ve brought someone home? But Mark can’t hear a man’s voice, not even the slightest grunt or groan of male muttering. He can only hear soft giggling slipping from his favourite pair of lips.

And then he hears a robotic voice announcing that the Bluetooth is successfully connected and he knows he’s about to hear your fuck playlist. The thought sends a thrill through his body and he knows he’s unlikely going to get any sleep tonight.

He’s about to get up, to move to the sofa in the living room, to not be disrespectful and a perv by listening to you getting off, but he hears a familiar hammering of drums and a guitar muffled through the paper-thin walls and his eyes are bulging.

“Give me my A course, ice is so big like a glacier” 

You’re giggling again and he can hear your body fall against the sheets of the bed – the bed that’s very clearly pushed up against the same wall his is. It creaks under your weight, and Mark feels the wall tremble slightly as your bed frame knocks against his wall.

He’s tried so hard not to be that guy, but his hand finds its way in his boxers before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing. He’s rock fucking hard, red and veiny and he takes off his boxers, leaving him sprawled on his back, completely bare.

He hears your soft whimpers, can hear you hum in appreciation even over the buzzing of your vibrator and the thumping of his song. He doesn’t know what’s turning him on more; the fact that he can hear you getting off and moaning out, or that you’re listening to him while trying to cum. 

Either way, his hand is wrapped tight around his thick length, thumbing over his oozing tip. He thinks of how you must be, how you’d look completely whilst naked and sprawled out on the bed for him. Mark imagines himself on top of you, kissing your perky tits he loves to think about and wrapping his lips around your swollen nipples. His mind feels like it can taste you on his tongue, can feel your dainty fingers tugging at his hair as he laps you.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp loud enough for him to hear.  

It makes him imagine your eyes rolling back when he finally fucks himself inside your tight little cunt, he visions the look of ecstasy on your face when your jaw would become completely slack and your body quivers for him. He knows you’d feel him deep in your stomach. He knows he’d be so big for you. 

“Fuck,” he slips out in a desperate pant.

He’s completely breathless, tugging at his dick, spitting down on it to get it all wet for you. He knows you’re so much wetter on the other side of the damn wall, and that he’d rather be sinking into your wet pussy but his spit would have to do. 

He throws his head back in his pillow, eyes shut tight, allowing his mind to work over time. 

“Fuck, Mark… I need it.”

Everything feels surreal, like he’s in his own personal heaven with a touch of hell. You’re crying out for more, for him, begging for it deeper, harder, and he finds himself fucking into his fist just as desperately. Like his soft palm is your silky pussy.

Mark can’t focus on anything other than your sweet fucking cries that sound otherwordly against his song. It makes him think about how much he’d love to record your moans, use them in his next song. But then he’d never be able to release it — because they’re his to hear. 

It’s when the bridge starts that you really let yourself go, filthy fucking moans, the speed of the vibrator increasing, and God he wishes he could watch you right now. See you trembling and begging as the instrumental plays out loud and hard. 

He can’t handle it.

Gruff moans are slipping past his lips and he does nothing to try and conceal them. The muscles in his arm are burning but he fucks his cock harder, imaging what it’d be like to feel his balls slap against your ass as he pounds into you.

He can feel the coil tightening in his stomach, the way his cock starts to twitch. His imagination grows wild and filthy, every single fantasy he’s tried locking away to not be that guy now flooding his mind because you’re that girl. 

That girl that’s using his music to cum. That girl that wants to hear his voice as she gets off. That girl who’s doing it with no shame, no guilt. That girl that’s using him. 

The thought takes Mark’s mind to sinful places. “Take it,” he can hear himself seeth through gritted teeth. He imagines you begging for his cum, taking it like the good fucking girl you are.

“Ugh, fuuckk I’m cumming!” Mark cries out gruffly through strangled moans and he hears your screams follow.

Your bed is creaking louder than before and he knows your thighs have got to be trembling as you cum around your vibrator. Mark’s hand and thighs are covered in thick ribbons of white arousal and when his eyes flutter open, through his blotched vision, he imagines seeing you kneeling between his thighs and licking it up.

He’s completely fucked as he hears his song mellow out and you aren’t moaning anymore. Instead, he can hear  breathless little pants. He stays where he is for a second, eager to see what else he can hear. But there’s nothing — only complete and utter silence.

Mark doesn’t sleep the entire night. He can’t. He’s kept awake with the guilt of listening to his pretty neighbour. Or is it with the thrill of knowing it was his voice that got you off that's making him so restless? 

[juicykvnture]

ONE OF YOUR GIRLS (2)

camboy!DickGrayson x fem!Reader

tags: AFAB reader, PiV (unprotected..), recording/livestream, exhibitionism, nicknames (angel/baby), dirty talk, light choking, pussy slapping, dacryphilia, (this is just straight up gooning)

a/n: I heard the people wanted a part 2.. (Insert Ayesha Erotica lyrics)

wc: 2.6K | Part 1 | Masterlist

Okay, your roommate is secretly a cam-boy. That’s like a totally normal part of every college experience, yeah?

One week. For one week straight you’ve been locked up in your room for as many hours as physically possible. You leave to go to class as early as you can in the mornings, hiding away from Dick as much as you can.

The fact you’re depriving yourself of seeing his gorgeous face everyday is like a crime in itself.

It makes you seem like more of a loser than you actually are. He probably thinks you’re some kind of hermit, or that you hate him.

The thought of that makes you sick.

Though, you’re not really doing anything to get yourself out of this situation.. like at all.

You’ve still been ogling him whenever you catch a glimpse of him. You’ve still been texting him in secret. Boo, you whore.

You just haven’t talked to him. Like, at all.

And how could you even go about doing that?

You can’t just look him straight in the eyes and tell him it’s him you dream about, it’s his cams you’ve been watching, it’s his name you’ve been panting under your breath every single fucking night, praying to every deity that he can’t hear you.

Some weird, fucked up ans twisted, perverted little part of you kinda wishes that he’d find out.

You’re overworked and underfucked.

You imagine what it would be like if he just walked in, what would he say? Would he be mad? Or would he just be too pent up over the fact you’ve been leading him on, taking matters into his own hands and bending you over and-

“Hey,”

You’re snapped out of your internal ramble by his voice, tilting your head up from your cup of tea, now clutched tightly in your hand.

You thought he was going out tonight.

“You been hiding from me or something?”

“Hiding? No that’s stupid, why would I? I totally have like zero reason to do that-” You mumble, sputtering slightly on your tea, letting out an awkward huff.

Wow, smooth.

“Kay, I’m just sayin’ I don’t bite.” He chuckles under his breath as he leans back against the kitchen counter, his hands tucked into his pockets.

See, you’d have no problem if he did bite. You also have no problem with the view in front of you at the moment but you’re trying to have an ounce of decorum, nodding as you take another sip of your tea.

Definitely not eyeing up his happy trail.

Fuck, it’s way better in real life.

“Anyway,” He yawns, pushing himself off of the counter.

“M’gonna head to bed, see ya.” Dick murmurs, brushing past you as he heads to his room, his eyes narrowing slightly as his focus locks on your necklace for a moment.

Where has he seen that Angel charm before?

@BLUUDHAVEN: can I call u? ;)

@BLUUDHAVEN: I’m gonna be on cam tonight anyway if you’re too tired!!

He’s so sweet to the point you actually want to sob or something. You don’t trust yourself to reply. Not with only a thin wall between your two bedrooms.

@BLUUDHAVEN HAS STARTED A STREAM

You slam your laptop shut, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at the ceiling. You feel like a fucking creep, again. It’s not even intentional!

With a sigh, you decide to get a drink, silently cursing yourself for the mess you’ve gotten yourself into, your socked feet gently padding against the linoleum floor on the way to the kitchen. You need a glass of water and a damn bullet to the head or something.

The soft glow of blue LEDs from his bedroom door makes you pause.

His door is also more than slightly ajar, how fucking convenient.

You hesitate, feeling like a total weirdo as you stand in the hallway, fidgeting with the charms on your necklace.

One look won’t hurt, right?

He’s leaned back in his chair, lazily running his thumb over the hem of his t-shirt, his head tilted to the side as he watches the chat start to spam through a half-lidded gaze, letting out a small huff.

His setup catches your attention.

So he wasn’t joking about this full-on camboy thing then? Last week was just on his laptop but this time he’s got a mic and everything.

Oh, and one more thing catches your attention.

The black mask covering his eyes.

So this is his routine?

You swallow, standing in his doorway like a total fucking creep, your fingers subconsciously curling into the fabric of your shorts.

He can’t see you, thank god.

He’s too busy talking to the stream, letting out small laughs at all the thirsty shit they’re saying, slowly pulling off his shirt.

He’s a showman at heart, clearly. Every move he makes is practised to tease, lazily pulling at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

It makes you remember that night you first video called him, shifting your legs slightly as you stand there, the heat between your legs all too familiar.

You’re trying not to drool like an idiot, okay?

He’s hot. You fucking know he’s hot, and by the looks of it, he knows it too.

You’re not listening to what he’s yapping into his mic, you don’t care. Your dumbstruck gaze is on his hands and how they slowly move down his body.

200 WATCHING

Biting your lip, you lean closer to the doorframe, pressing your thighs together even harder, clutching the frame and-

- - CREAKKK - -

Your heart stops.

No - no - no - no fuck, no.

Your mouth is agape, your feet don’t move, like you’re stuck in that doorframe.

It’s just silence, dead fucking silence.

Until you hear a small huff come from him in his desk chair, gripping the fabric of his sweatpants a little tighter.

The mask hides his eyes, but you can feel his gaze burning through you, watching your form in his monitor's reflection.

278 WATCHING

“Nice of you to join us, Angel.”

You open your mouth to speak again, but you’re unable to force a single word out, only offering a meek, panicked shake of your head.

“No?” He coos, hooking his thumb into his boxers as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head slightly to look at you.

“You’re telling me that wasn’t you?”

305 WATCHING

Every part of you is screaming internally, just begging you to turn around and run out of that room, hide under your bed and act like this never happened.

But ultimately, your throbbing cunt between your legs wins, resulting in a shaky step into his room.

“You thought I wouldn’t find out, then?” He tilts his head back, rolling the chair slightly so he’s closer to you, now shamelessly man-spreading with his cock twitching in his sweats.

“Didn’t mean to.” You offer, trying to act like this is all well and normal but your hardened nipples under your shirt give you away.

340 WATCHING

“Didn’t mean to?”

His eyes drift down to your chest for a moment, his legs moving further apart as he pulls you by the wrist to stand between his thighs, reaching a hand up to inspect the Angel wings on your necklace, and then up to your face, stroking his thumb over your flushed cheek.

“Didn’t mean to what? Lie to me for a month straight? Or watch me like a little creep?” He’s almost cooing, you’re trying to hate it but you can’t bring yourself to, not when he’s drumming his fingers against the top of your shorts, just to watch you press your thighs together harder.

You have half a mind to crawl under that desk to apologise, only to see if he’d turn that stupid stream off and fuck you as he promised repeatedly over text.

“Look, if you’re mad at me or something just turn that off and-“

413 WATCHING

“Nah,” he cuts in, hands grasping your hips to pull you back against him, one hand under your thighs to force you to sit down on his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands slide up your shirt, mouthing at your neck.

“Now why would I turn this off?”

You’re fucked.

Physically, mentally, in any way possible, you just are.

“Shit,” You’re not sure if he means to pant as he feels how fucking wet you are, throbbing around him with every upward jerk of his hips.

He’s got your thighs spread open, arm locked around your torso, you literally cannot bring yourself to move, your head falling forward with a choked-out whine.

“No, no,”

You’re barely able to recognise his voice anymore with how wrecked he is, his hand sliding up to your neck to tilt your head back up.

“Nuh-uh. You keep your eyes on that camera, Angel.” He murmurs, into your shoulder, giving your neck a small squeeze, your pulse slamming under his palm.

450 WATCHING

“Don’t you look away.” He instructs, and it’s not a suggestion, punctuated by another upward thrust of his hips, clutching the little Angel charm around your neck tighter.

“C’mon, you’re my pretty girl.”

That sounds better than it should.

You know you’re not. You know that this is literally just a job to him, he’s still wearing that stupid fucking mask over his eyes, and none of this is real.

You’re a glorified notch in his belt, another one of his girls, but he’s fucking you like you could actually mean something.

“Shut up-” You pant though it's half-hearted, and the both of you know it, his grip on you tightening as he fucks you harder, his cock throbbing inside you.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck,” You mutter, trying to hold on to some semblance of restraint, but your voice cracks, it’s all happening too fast.

Despite incessantly pestering you to do so, he hasn’t looked up at that screen. Not once.

All he can do is offer a shaky laugh, his fingers sliding to your clit, rubbing quick, messy circles that make your head spin.

“I don’t give a fuck? That’s what you think?” He’s biting into your shoulder, his fingers giving your pussy a firm slap before resuming their circling.

Your chest is heaving, biting hard into your hand to muffle your cries, shame and embarrassment as high as your arousal that you’re letting him do this, splitting your cunt open on his stupid fucking livestream, your thighs quivering as you try to close them at least a little bit, just to make yourself feel better about this.

It’s no use, his hands slide down to pry your legs back open, lifting you up and then slamming you back down like you’re one of those sex toys he usually does his live streams with.

Again, another wet smack.

“Shh,” He’s pressing his lips to the back of your neck, as if he’s soothing you. Your un-shed tears cling to your bottom lashes as shaky pants fall from your parted lips. You’re not entirely sure why, maybe it’s the embarrassment, maybe it’s the same, maybe it’s the fact he’s fucking you real hard and you don’t want any of it to stop.

You knew his cock would be good in real life but fuck, nothing could’ve actually prepared you for this.

You’re shaking your head, trying to hide your face in your hand but he stops you the second he sees you try, lacing his fingers with yours.

“C’mon, don’t-“ he rasps,

“Don’t you fucking hide from me, Angel.”

No hiding your face, no hiding your sounds, no more hiding in your room behind your laptop.

You stare at the screen, it’s like your heart stops.

600 WATCHING

“You’re still an attention whore,” you grit out, back arching against him.

“Me?” He has the gall to let out a breathless laugh, slamming you down against him harder, his half-lidded eyes drifting down to the number of viewers.

630 WATCHING

“Your slutty cunt seems to like it as much as I do.”

Unfortunately, that makes you throb around him to your own utter dismay.

“Shut up,” Your head is falling back against his shoulder, pulling your hand free from his grasp to try to yank on his hair or something, anything to get your own back.

But that just results in the mask falling from his eyes, his hand moving to give your sobbing pussy another smack.

“Fuck, you’re wet.”

He doesn’t even care that they can see his face anymore, he’s not thinking. Neither are you.

770 WATCHING

He may be annoying, arrogant, all those lovely words that you so dearly called him last time.

But unfortunately, he’s right.

He’s grabbing at your tits through your shirt, mouthing at your shoulder, your neck, anywhere his mouth can reach, his black hair a mess and clinging to his face.

820 WATCHING

“Fucking knew it, baby,” Dick pants as he gives your pussy another smack, it’s lighter though, considering his hands are so fucking shaky, his cock so deep you swear you can feel it in your throat.

“This pretty pussy really does have a humiliation kink.”

It’s all coming back to him now, all those nights he spent with his hand desperately pumping his cock, acting like it was you, oblivious to the fact you were a paper thin wall away from him all along.

He’s grinning, fucking delirious as you cry out, your nails digging into his forearm, leaving little red marks on his tanned skin.

You’re spaced out, babbling. You’re tilting your head to the side like you’re trying to kiss him but you’re unable to move enough to crane your head up properly.

Fuck, you’re so much hotter in real life. He doesn’t know why he’s done all these streams alone, all these nights alone when you would’ve been there with him all along.

You’re cumming, he knows you are.

But he doesn’t let up, arms firmly wrapped around your waist, not letting you move away from him, not for one second.

“C’mon Angel, don’t cry.” his hand moves to the back of your head, staring down at you through his dark lashes, the flush on your face and the tears down your cheeks making him whine like a whore, bumping his forehead against you in a haphazard attempt of locking your lips together.

And when he does manage to kiss you, he fucking cums on the spot, his shaky hand gripping your neck as his hips stutter, the way he whines out your name is nothing short of desperate.

His hips snap up, thrusting harder into you than you knew possible, making you whine as his cock pulses, thick and twitching deep in your pussy. It all floods you, ropes of his cum coating your insides, dripping around him buried inside you.

His own head falls forward, panting into your shoulder with shaky, sloppy little kisses. He’s rambling, you can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s something about how pretty you are, how good you take him.

1K WATCHING

More than he’s ever had on one stream.

“Fuck, Angel,”

He fumbles to disconnect the camera, not giving a fuck as it hits the carpet, his body as shaky as yours.

“I think-“

He’s panting, hands running over where his fingers left harsh indents moments ago, trying to soothe them.

He’s still all shaky, disheveled as he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

“I think they like you more than me.”

a/n: RAAGGAHAGAHAHAHDHHDHRGHERRRR

thank you for reading!!

I’ll see myself out.

[kooppss]

lost

Jungkook's POV from thirsty.

Sexy Disasters With Feelings series masterlist

warnings: male masturbation. mention of sex and female masturbation. Jungkook is a fuckboy. This is his inner monologue, zero dialog.

word count: 2.1K

Jungkook chose you as his roommate because you're hot. 

He thought that, worst case, you’d fuck, and he’ll have to find a new roommate. Returning to where he was. 

He was sure it would be a treat to have a pretty little thing like you wandering around the apartment. He did ask you some questions about your cleaning habits and shit like that. But frankly, you could live like a raccoon, and he’d still choose you. 

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

You are a treat when you walk around in your pajama shorts or your slutty going out outfits. Not to mention the thin tank tops with no bra. He likes to imagine you put in extra effort for him to enjoy. 

Earlier today, you were a vision—your too-tight, too-short sports set clinging to your body, messy hair stuck to the sweat on your skin. Jungkook hopes he managed to fool you with his cool act when you talked to him. For the life of him, he has no idea what you were talking about. The final straw was the flush on your cheeks—a look he’d imagined on you more times than he’d like to admit.

It’s not his fault. He swears!

What can he do when the walls in your apartment are so thin that he can hear you being fucked in your adjoining room? When he can hear every beautiful sound you make?

He loves how loud you are. 

Sometimes, it was just your beautiful moans and whines.

Sometimes, he could hear choking sounds. He imagined it’s him in there. That you’re choking on his dick. 

Sometimes, he could hear the guy’s name spill from you. He preferred it when you didn’t. It ruined the vibe for him.

He didn’t mind when you moved in and started bringing your hookups to the apartment. Like, free porn, right? Who would complain? 

And he isn’t a hypocrite. He does his fair share of bringing people to the apartment. And you never nudged him about it, unlike his previous roommate.

Was it weird of him to touch himself to the sound of his roommate fucking in the next room?

Maybe. 

It’s not like he could do anything else when all the blood in his body traveled south. 

So why has he stopped enjoying your little shows for him lately? 

Why did he go to the gym when he heard a guy’s voice from your room? 

It’s not like he’s jealous or something stupid like that. No way. 

It was just annoying that they got to have what he couldn’t. 

Why weren’t the two of you fucking to begin with? 

Wasn't it the original plan? 

Do you not find him attractive? 

What do they have that he doesn’t? He can fuck you better. He knows it. 

So Jungkook tried to stop bringing girls when you’re at home. He thought that maybe it’ll make you stop as well. 

He hasn’t stopped fucking around, obviously. No need to be radical. 

But now he has a new problem. He misses hearing you. He wants to hear more of you. He wished you’d make those sounds for him, but until then, he’ll take whatever he could get. 

And fuck. You looked so hot earlier. You’re not making it easy for him. 

You returned from your yoga class, or whatever hot girls' workout you’re doing. With the way you looked; he couldn’t stop thinking this is exactly how he imagined you. Usually, in his head, you’re wearing way fewer clothes and you’re sprawled on his bed. But close enough. 

Shit. You’re driving him insane. 

He’d usually just fuck you out of his system. But you don’t seem to be affected by him like he expects you would. He needs to do something about it. 

So Jungkook finds himself is lying in bed, trying to think what he could do. 

He has been lying for a little while now, hand lazily stroking his length under his boxer. It doesn't seem to be evolving anywhere, but he’s too bothered to just fall asleep like that. A sound from your room snaps him out of his dazing state. It sounded like you dropped something. Maybe it was the water bottle you always take back to your room. 

It doesn't matter; the noise is a reminder that you’re right there, on the other side of the wall. He really wishes he could hear you right now. That’s always helped him get going in no time. 

He wonders, did you also touch yourself when he brought girls home? He wants to think that you did. He always tried to recall if he heard you, but it’s hard to notice when he’s balls-deep into someone else. 

He never heard you when you’re alone. Are you quieter when you masturbate? Do you use your fingers? He bet they’re not enough—not like he could use his fingers on you. Maybe you need battery-powered help? He never heard a buzzing sound. He could help you use it.  

Fuck. 

Jungkook sits up in his bed, pushing his boxer down to free his dick. He spits in his hand and spreads it over his length. The smoother glide of his hand makes him groan.

He wishes it was your hand on him. 

Would you act shy, or would you grab him with confidence? Would you be a good girl for him or a little brat? He’d know how to put you in place. He’ll do it gladly.  

He thinks about all the ways he’d take you. How he’d utilize every surface of this apartment.

A louder moan slips out of him, and he halts for a second. 

Do you hear him right now?

God, he hopes you do. 

The thought pushes him further towards the edge. He increases his pace, thinking about you listening to him in your room. That cute flush of your cheeks spreads as you lie in bed.

And with that image, he comes. 

Fuck. He needs to get a grip. 

Or get you.

__________________________________________

Jungkook had a good day. He slept like a baby last night and hit a new PR at the gym.

He’s just out of the kitchen on his way to his room when you decide to ruin his day.

Seriously, where the fuck do they sell skirts this short?

Because he wants to buy you a hundred more.

You look amazing. You really do. Why do you have to do this to him?

And it’s not even 24 hours since you made him lose his cool over you.

You didn’t see him, and you fully bumped into him. You look all flustered and cute. Blushing and stuttering.

Well, now it’s his time to shine. 

He gives you his best nonchalant grin and teases you until you walk out of the room. He knows the fact that he’s shirtless and a little sweaty works to his advantage. He caught you snicking looks. 

Good. He should do this more. 

He can’t lose.

Later that night, after he showered and made dinner, Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, mindlessly zipping through Netflix.  

Nothing catches his attention; he just chooses something as a background noise while he scrolls on his phone. He goes through stories on Instagram when something is catching his eye.

It's you, in your little teasing outfit from earlier, sitting on a high chair at some bat with a drink in hand. 

You look fucking hot. If he’d meet you there, he’d 100% try his luck with you. 

Stupid random guys have a chance with you, yet he doesn’t get one. 

He clicks on your profile without much of a thought. Scrolling down your photos. He’s stuck on one from your last vacation; you went to a beach house with your friends. You sit on the sand next to the water, a beautiful smile on your face. And you’re wearing one of the smallest bikinis known to mankind. 

He barely processes that his hand is already inside his sweatpants. And if he weren't fully hard by now, the next photo would have done it. You stand with your back to the camera, still in the same location, same deviled-creation bikini, ass cheeks on display, covered with sand. Your ass looks fucking amazing.

Before Jungkook even finishes thinking about all the things he’d do to it, he’s already coming in his hand.

He sighs; you make him act like a teenage boy. Cuming in his hand from a photo of you in a bikini. Fucking embarrassing. 

He reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table and grabs some to clean the mess before cleaning himself better and washing his hands in the bathroom. 

When he returns to the living room, you’re there. He takes his spot on the couch, and before sliding his phone into his pocket, he realizes it’s still open on your Instagram. He knows how it looks. He assumes you can piece together to some degree what has happened here. He expects you to call him out, maybe to lash out. But instead, you look… shy? Could it be? He never pegged you for the shy type.

And you’re blushing now? Oh, Jungkook likes this game.

He looks at you, waiting for you to say something. To make your move. But you fold first. Saying goodbye and turning away.

Jungkook has won this round.

A slow grin spreads across his face as he watches you walk to your room, knowing this won’t be the last time you’ll play.

Hours later, Jungkook is still thinking about what happened. He feels like he should make a move, take advantage of the momentum. He has a proof that he’s had some effect on you; now he just needs to break through your walls. He’ll keep up the teasing, building this tension between you two. He saw an opening, and he should go for it—

Even if it’s just to see you blush more because of him.

__________________________________________

Jungkook pulls the headset down to rest on his neck. They just had a win, and now he’s waiting for Taehyung to come back after taking a piss. He grabs his phone and scrolls through it almost automatically.

Until he sees it.

WTF. 

Holly fucking shit. 

He mumbles into the microphone, “start without me,” and tosses the headphones away. 

He stares at the photo; he can physically feel all the blood in his body traveling directly into his penis. It’s so intense he almost feels lightheaded. 

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? 

So this is it. After days of him teasing you and trying to catch you off guard, you finally played your move. And what a fucking move it is. 

You fucking tease. 

Oh, you think you’re so smart with that. You want him to collapse? To fold down? No problem. You’ll get a front-row seat to him burning in hell. He’ll drag you down with him. 

You little devil.

Jungkook head spins with the image of you; he’s going to come embarrassingly fast. 

Fucking hell, you caused this problem; you should be the one fixing it. 

He can’t figure you out. You act all shy and flustered, and then you pull this? Why the hell did you even take that photo? Did you know you’ll need to torture him?

Jungkook doesn’t know if to bless you or to curse you. He doesn't know if he hates what you do to him or if he can't get enough of you. 

He thought he had the upper hand, that he was about to win. But you’re all-consuming. He thought he was the one hunting you, yet he feels like your prey. It’s so good and so sinful, this little game you play.

He’s a player, and he’s addicted to the game. 

He comes loudly. He doesn’t care if you hear him. You need to know the extent of your effect on him. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

He leans back in his gaming chair, head tilting back, trying to cool down. 

Even with his mind fucked up, Jungkook knows what it means for him. He’s at the gate. He’s almost at his destination. The game is about to end. And honestly, he doesn’t care who wins or loses at this point—as long as he gets you.

After a few more rounds, they finally call it a night. Jungkook shuts down his computer and sets the headset aside. He pulls off his sweatpants and tosses them into the laundry bin. He’s about to get into bed when he hears noises from outside his room. He glances at his phone—it's already past 2 AM. You should be asleep. He grabs his phone and heads to investigate the source of the noise.

It’s you. You catch him off guard again. He finds you bending down in front of the fridge, reaching for a water bottle from the bottom shelf. You’re wearing nothing but a shirt and simple white cotton underwear. Cute. You look even better in real life. That ass looks better.

You turn around, startled by him.

And even though it’s too dark to see it, he knows it’s there.

He knows you’re blushing.

Yeah.

He lost.

Back to series masterlist

[miaoua3]

Scoups spicy headcanons

Pairing: scoups x f!reader

Warnings: sex, mentions of oral, just nasty piece of work tbh lmao, MINORS DNI

Kind of a continuation of my tiktok post

Note:…i need to get dicked down, its been too long…anyway enjoy this

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•his kisses are always soo deep, its just that pace that changes- when he’s desperate, his kisses become fast and filled with urge and need, when he wants to savour both you and the moment, he takes his time

•the type to spread his arms on the back rest of the couch while you sit on his lap and make out with him, will not touch you until you start whining and pleading of him to touch you

•loooves leaving hickeys. not only on your neck, but on your chest, your hips, your thighs and sometimes even your ass cheeks (in a shape of a little heart❤️)

•also likes it when you leave hickeys on him too, it shows to others that you both belong to somebody, except he doesn’t like to hide his while you literally spend tons of time and makeup trying to cover his piece of work

•two words: size kink. nothing gets him going quite like watching and comparing how much bigger he is compared to you, how his big hands can easily wrap themselves around your neck, your hands, your hips, anywhere really

•likes to just let his hand rest on your neck while kissing. not outright choking, but just…lets you feel the heavy weight of it on your thin neck

•a service dom, idk how people came to think that coups is this mean dom who just enjoys inflicting pain on you, like nuh-uh, this man literally lives to serve you, will listen to everything you got to say, if you say ‘a little more of this, a little bit less of that’ consider it already done. your pleasure is his first priority

•which brings me to- he won’t fuck you until you have cumed on his fingers (and/or face) at least two times.

•the mirror that’s facing your bed🤝him, loves nothing more than to fuck you from behind in front of the said mirror, loves just looking at your dazed look, how hard you try to keep your balance, how his hand looks around your neck

•very talkative in bed, from asking if you’re still okay to asking you things like “look at you, so pretty. who’s my pretty girl? hm? is this all for me baby? so wet, just for me? can you give me another one? cmon, my pretty girl, just one more, cum on my dick one more time, i know you can do it” NCHSIDBSIADBAI

•praise kink>>>>>>, idk who convinced yall that he would like degrading you, bro literally LOVES you, he has no reason to talk to you like that, he’s always just like “you’re doing so good, baby, taking this dick. fuck, so good, you’re taking me so well, can you take on more? of course you can, my girl can always take on more, cmon, that’s it” (currently manifesting this man in my life🙏)

•loooves it when you scratch his back unconsciously, just likes to look at it the next morning, wears it like a gold medal

•oh i just know he has a big dick, don’t even try to convince me otherwise, its both long and girthy, it’s always so overwhelming having him inside your pussy

•i always say- having a small dick is no excuse for being a bad partner, the universe gave you 10 fingers, a mouth and a lot of imagination. if you still can’t figure out how to please your partner, then it’s a you problem….lets just say cheol has no problems-with his size, his fingers skills, his tongue nor his imagination, he’s such a good lover, he will literally make you see stars

•speaking of-he asks you to sit on his face and literally to almost suffocate him at least two times a week. he just loves feeling your weight on his face, your smell surrounding him, you looking down on him while he’s living every man’s dream

•loves holding hands while in a missionary, it just makes the atmosphere that much more intimate and romantic, always intertwines your fingers and he finds that so…comforting

•now, he doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain on you (he enjoys leaving a good spank and a little bit of choking), that much is clear, but he still likes seeing you with tears down your cheeks from the immense pleasure he’s bringing you

•is the king of body worshipping. on the nights where he’s feeling extremely loving, first, he takes off your clothes slowly, then he kisses you for a few moments, and then he starts leaving kisses everywhere-from your lips, across your jaw, on your neck, going down to your chest, a few ticklish kisses on your stomach, leaving a few teasing kisses on your clit, looking up while kissing your thighs, on the scars on your knee, all the way down to your ankle. and then the same route upwards, all while whispering soft words of praise to you

•if you ever thought that this man is anything other than an ass man, you are delusional. from spanking you, fucking you from behind, to literally kissing your cheeks better after a few particularly hard spanks and leaving hickeys on it, rubbing it gently in comforting way with a comforting hand, there isn’t a way this man hasn’t interacted with your behind lol

•loves to pull on your hair lightly during the slow make out sessions, but also enjoys it when you pull on his hair while he’s laying between your legs, eating you out as if you were his last meal

•loves how he can just pick you up and fuck you against any surface available, it gets him so turned on knowing that he can carry you so easily and manhandle you into any position he wants you in

•low-key has a breeding kink, he loves watching his cum leak out of you, and stuffing it back in, knowing that he could impregnate you any time he comes inside, it’s always so thrilling to him (plus he really want to start a family with you)

•he’s the aftercare KING, sometimes he spends more time talking you down from the height, cuddling you, cleaning you, kissing you and letting you know how much he loves you than he spend on the sex itself, he’s a natural caretaker so he enjoys taking care of your body and your mind after your sexy escapades

in conclusion: SCOUPS PLEASE I CAN TREAT YOU SO WELL JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE PLS BABY

[alsofoundinpeas]

Crossing the Line

Summary: Y/N never expected to fall for her roommate, Spencer, but when she becomes unexpectedly jealous of a girl flirting with him, she realizes she's in love with him. The problem is... how does she tell him that without ruining everything?

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Roommates/friends to lovers/two idiots in love trope. Jealous reader. Heavy making out. Dry humping (huge supporter of this I say bring it back!!). A small teensy bit of angst as reader struggles to accept her feelings. Insecure Spencer (sweet angel boy).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

Requested fic!! 🥳: I absolutely loved the fic you just wrote about Spencer and reader friends to lovers (and omg you write smut so well 😍) and I was wondering if you could write another one but maybe they’re roommates or something?

A/N: College!Spencer AU ahh!! Thank you so very much to the anon that requested this :’) <3 I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know this isn't my usual, all-out smut buttt there will be a part two for these two, so stay tuned. :') As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N never imagined she'd be rooming with a man, let alone one as… peculiar as Spencer Reid. Not in a bad way, of course—just, well, peculiar. Spencer was the last person Y/N expected to respond to her ad for a roommate, but she was glad he did.

At barely twenty-one, he already had two bachelor’s degrees and was deep into his third PhD. He’d graduated high school at twelve (an IQ of 187 had a way of doing that, she supposed), skipping the years most kids spent developing their social skills. As a result, he was incredibly awkward and nerdy, but Y/N found this more endearing than off-putting.

As a roommate, he was exceptional: he kept things tidy, wasn’t obnoxiously loud (even with their paper-thin walls), never had people over (which meant Y/N spent more time with him, as she didn’t have guests either), and even helped her study, despite her insistence she could handle it on her own (they both knew better). As a friend, he was even better—always listening to her ramble about anything and everything, joining her for their now-regular movie nights, and offering a shoulder to cry on when needed (and she was always there for him in return).

In the six months they'd lived together, they'd grown incredibly close. Y/N was even smugly certain that they had avoided the classic 'falling for your roommate' scenario—until Spencer came home ranting about a girl in his class.

“I mean, seriously! How hard is it to grab a paper without touching someone?” Spencer huffed, plopping down onto the couch next to her and reaching for the popcorn bowl that sat securely in her lap.

It took about three months of living together before Spencer felt comfortable enough to do things like share snacks during their movie nights or indulge in the occasional moment of physical affection.

Y/N never took it personally, understanding his aversion to germs (one of the first things he’d said when they met was that kissing was safer than shaking hands, and she’d almost jokingly taken him up on it). Every time Spencer felt comfortable enough to share food with her (like he was doing now) or lean into her on the heavier days, letting her hold him until the world felt a little lighter, her chest swelled with pride. It made her happy to know he trusted her enough to let his guard down like that.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she listened to his rant. Apparently, a girl in the class he TA'd for had been getting on his nerves for weeks, but this was the first she’d heard about it. It didn’t surprise her—Spencer tended to bottle things up until they reached a breaking point, and then he'd unload it all at once, just like he was doing now.

"She’s always staring at me, too. Every time I glance up, there she is—staring and chewing on the end of her pen. It gives me the creeps," Spencer grumbled, a shiver running down his spine as he recalled it.

"Wait wait wait," Y/N stopped his rant with furrowed brows. "What did you say this girl's name was?"

"Her name’s Wren Davidson. You might know her—or at least know of her. I'm pretty sure she's in a few of the same classes as you," Spencer said, pausing to snack on some popcorn, though by now, their movie was all but forgotten as the starting menu looped on the screen. "She’s about 5'6", has dark brown hair with some highlights, and green eyes."

Y/N pressed her tongue to her cheek, thinking for a moment. The name sounded strangely familiar…

"Oh! I know who you mean—she's in my 8:00 AM lecture with Professor James on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Y/N said, snapping her fingers as she remembered. She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, then tilted her head. "So, just to recap—she's asking you questions instead of the professor, touching you whenever you hand out papers, staring at you… and what else?"

Spencer adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, clearly frustrated.

"She’s been bringing me coffee lately, even though I’ve told her a million times I don’t want it because you always make it just the way I like before I leave and I don't need more. And when she doesn’t bring coffee, it’s some kind of baked good. I don’t get it! If she’s looking for favoritism, why not try to suck up to the professor? I’m just the TA."

A sudden tightness gripped Y/N’s chest as she processed his words. It was clear now—Wren was flirting with him. But why did that thought send an unexpected wave of discomfort through her? Jealousy, maybe? No, that didn’t make sense... Why would she be jealous?

“She’s not looking for favoritism, Spence. She’s looking for a way to get into your pants,” Y/N snickered, ignoring yet another wave of unease that crashed into her at the mental image of Spencer actually having sex with Wren. Anyone would be uncomfortable thinking about their roommate having sex… right? That was a perfectly normal reaction.

Spencer suddenly choked on the popcorn he’d just popped into his mouth, coughing violently and startling Y/N. Without thinking, she leaned over, gently patting his back as concern flooded her expression. When the coughing finally subsided into a weak wheeze, she reached for his glass of water on the coffee table and handed it to him with a worried glance.

"Jesus, Spencer! Are you okay?"

"Why would you say that?"

Spencer's voice was unnervingly high, his face flushed from both the coughing fit and his growing embarrassment. He took a slow sip of water, trying to steady his racing heart. Setting the glass down with trembling hands, he adjusted his crooked glasses, his gaze avoiding hers. "For the record," he muttered, his voice tinged with insecurity, "I highly doubt she’s trying to… get in my pants."

Y/N's expression softened from concern to sympathy as her hand moved to rub his knee in comfort.

She remembered the first (and only) time she’d gotten Spencer to drink with her, how, in his tipsy state, he’d opened up about his painful past. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he’d shared how brutally he’d been bullied as a child prodigy, and how those experiences had led him to avoid romantic relationships for fear of humiliation and rejection. That night marked the turning point in their relationship, transforming them from roommates who got along to actual friends—a change she would forever be grateful for.

"You’re too hard on yourself," Y/N said gently. "Trust me on this one. As a woman, I can tell you with absolute certainty—she's flirting with you." She added, her tone matter-of-fact.

Spencer gave her a doubtful look, but after a moment, his shoulders slumped in reluctant acceptance as he began to entertain the possibility. "We’ll see," he muttered, grabbing the remote and finally starting their movie night.

It turned out Y/N had been right.

Three weeks had passed without a word from Spencer about it, and Y/N figured Wren had gotten the message and moved on. But then she began to notice Wren walking into class with a little extra bounce in her step, a shy, almost giddy smile lighting up her face as she sat down. Y/N shrugged it off… until she noticed Spencer doing the exact same thing.

Spencer began coming home later and later after class, a goofy grin on his face as he wandered through the apartment or headed to his room. Y/N didn’t ask any questions, knowing he’d share whatever was making him so happy when he was ready—though she had a pretty strong hunch about who it was. By the fourth week, he finally felt comfortable enough to confide in her.

"You won’t believe this, but I finally just asked Wren straight up if she was flirting with me… and she said yes!" Spencer said, his excitement clear as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/N cook. "We’ve been spending time together after class, and, uh… I asked her out on a date for this Friday!"

Y/N froze mid-stir, caught off guard by the sudden pang of sadness that hit her. Why did she feel this way? She should be happy for him—he was her closest friend, after all. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to keep stirring as she pushed the unsettling thoughts aside for the moment.

"That’s great, Spence!" Y/N said, though her voice came out a bit tighter than usual. "So… what do you have planned for your date?"

Spencer began to ramble excitedly about what he had planned for Friday, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. All it did was seem to make the feeling of dread and hurt creeping up on her worse, though she couldn't for the life of her understand why Spencer talking about his date had her so bothered. Maybe it was because she hadn't been on a date in over a year, having avoided the dating scene after her last breakup. That had to be it.

Y/N nodded absentmindedly, her mind fixated on the uneasy feeling growing inside her rather than his words. It had been so long since she’d felt anything like this, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make sense of why it was happening.

She wasn’t blind. She knew Spencer was ridiculously attractive (even if his wardrobe seemed to be straight out of an elderly man’s fashion catalog). And he was kind, thoughtful, and attentive—anyone would be lucky to date him. Yet, despite all that, she’d always seen him as nothing more than a friend. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Fortunately, the timer went off, cutting Spencer off mid-sentence. He quickly shifted gears, helping her dish out their food. They moved to the living room, ready to enjoy their meal and unwind with TV, as they always did.

Spencer couldn’t help but notice that Y/N was quieter than usual. She didn’t join in with her usual banter during the show, instead taking absent-minded bites, taking bites between distant, unfocused stares at the screen. His brow furrowed as he put his fork down, observing her slowly push her food around without really eating.

"Y/N… are you alright?" Spencer asked, lowering the volume on the TV. "You’ve barely touched your food."

"Hm?" Y/N looked up, offering a faint smile as she shrugged. "Yeah… I’m fine, Spence. Just a little tired, I guess."

He didn’t fully buy it, but he decided not to push further. "How about a nap in my lap while I grade papers, then? After dinner, of course. I don’t want your head in my food," Spencer joked, pleased with himself. His lame humor had her rolling her eyes and grinning, stifling a laugh.

That had become normal for them: napping or cuddling, quick pecks on the cheek or top of the head when one of them left, cooking and eating together… the list went on. But the more Y/N thought about it, the more she realized it didn’t exactly align with typical roommate behavior. Or maybe it did, and she was just overanalyzing, letting the strange feeling she couldn’t shake make her paranoid.

"That sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, silently hoping the nap would help clear her mind.

They finished dinner, chatting between bites about their day. Spencer, ever the gentleman, told her to stay on the couch while he cleared their plates and rinsed them. After grabbing the stack of papers he needed to grade for Professor Hartman from his room, he returned, settling back onto the couch with a grin as he patted his lap.

Y/N eased into his lap, stretching her legs out across the couch as she nestled her head into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. Spencer ran a hand down her back as she settled in, giving her hip a gentle pat before picking up the first paper to grade.

It didn't take long for Y/N to drift off in his arms, her breath warm against his skin as he graded papers. The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of her breathing, the rustling of the papers as he flipped through them, and the occasional hum of a car passing outside. Spencer paused his grading, his gaze drifting down to Y/N as she slept peacefully in his arms. A fond expression softened his features as he watched her, her calmness soothing him. Slowly, he reached up and caressed her cheek with his knuckles, then resumed his work, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer.

Spencer’s eyelids drooped as he made his way through the last few papers, small yawns escaping him between each one. When he finished, he quietly set the stack on the coffee table, taking care not to disturb Y/N. With a gentle shift, he settled back into the cushions, bringing one hand to cradle her head as he adjusted their position on the couch. He carefully maneuvered so he could stretch out before pulling her closer, tucking her into his side.

It was late enough that Spencer didn’t see the need to wake her; he knew if he did, she’d be up for hours. Reaching behind him, he turned off the lamp, letting the room fall into darkness. The soft rhythm of her breathing eased him, and soon, he drifted off, her warmth grounding him. In minutes, they were both asleep, entwined in the quiet comfort of each other’s arms.

As the week passed, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to cope with the thought of Spencer going on his date with Wren. Every time he brought it up, she quickly steered the conversation elsewhere or found an excuse to slip away, guilt gnawing at her with every evasive move. She hated herself for it—he was genuinely excited, and she didn’t want to ruin that. But every mention of the date made her stomach twist, and she couldn’t bring herself to face it without feeling like she was being torn apart.

Y/N finally understood why the idea of him going on a date was so devastating to her nervous system.

Late Tuesday night, as Y/N lay awake in bed, a sudden, jarring realization hit her: she had fallen in love with Spencer. Somewhere over the past seven months, amid shared laughs, quiet moments, and unexpected tenderness, she had fallen hopelessly for the brilliant, quirky man she had sworn she'd never fall for.

And now, because she was a spineless coward who was too afraid to risk their friendship by speaking up, she found herself helping Spencer get ready for his date.

"Spencer, seriously—hold still! I'm almost done," Y/N grumbled, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she fixed his hair.

Spencer let out an exasperated sigh but stopped shifting, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on her. She was so close now that he could almost taste the minty freshness of her gum, her breath brushing his face making him more flustered than he expected. He nervously twiddled his fingers in his lap, his curiosity piqued as he waited to see how she had tamed his unruly strands.

"There you go. What do you think?" Y/N grinned proudly, stepping back to give him space as he stood from where he was sitting on the toilet lid, turning to face the bathroom mirror.

Spencer turned his head from side to side, eyes lingering on his reflection. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he examined himself. For the first time, he felt it—he felt good. Like he could finally see what Y/N saw when she insisted he was handsome. Instead of his typical gelled, slicked-down look, she'd arranged his hair to accentuate his face, giving his features a more defined, natural appeal.

"I... Y/N, I love it. Thank you," Spencer breathed earnestly, turning to pull her into a warm hug.

Y/N smiled gently, wrapping her arms around him. The newfound confidence in his eyes was enough to ease the ache in her chest about his date. At least, she thought, he was finally seeing himself the way she always had—worthy and deserving of feeling this good.

“Of course, Spence. Anything for you,” she murmured, the words feeling heavier than she intended. She meant it, though. She would do anything for him—even if it meant shattering her own heart along the way.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N released a long, shaky breath, pressing her forehead against the cool wood for a moment before slowly making her way to Spencer's room. He had told her not to wait up, mentioning he planned on going to Wren’s afterward. So, she curled up in his blanket, clutching his pillow to her chest, trying to let the comfort of his familiar scent quiet her restless mind.

Less than five minutes passed before the tears began to fall, each one soaking into the fabric of his pillow as a sob broke free from her chest. She felt pathetic. There she was, crumpled in his bed while he was out on a date, all because she couldn’t find the courage to tell him how she felt—too afraid to admit the truth, convinced that he could never feel the same way about her.

The hours slipped by in a blur, her tears long gone as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Too weary to move to her own bed, she simply tossed her pants to his floor, closed her eyes, and let sleep take over in the comfort of his sheets. She'd remake his bed in the morning before he got home, hoping he'd never know about the quiet, tearful night she'd spent there.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his fingers grazing his scalp as he quietly unlocked the door and stepped into the dark apartment. The date had gone fine, nothing awful… but there was a difference between nice and right. Wren was nice, but she wasn’t the one his heart had been quietly waiting for. That person was the other half of this apartment, likely fast asleep in her room, just as he’d told her to be—and he couldn’t shake the feeling she should’ve been the one he’d been out with tonight.

Spencer hung his jacket on the coat rack and slipped off his shoes, setting them neatly by the door. He headed toward his room, eager to leave the awkwardness of the evening behind and looking forward to starting the next day with the one person who truly made his world feel right. Though Y/N wasn’t his, there was a quiet comfort in knowing she was always the first face he’d see each morning. Maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell her how he felt. But for now, he was content cherishing their friendship.

He couldn't shake the slight guilt he felt for Wren, a cringe running through him as he replayed the moment she'd tried to kiss him when he dropped her off. When she leaned in, he'd jerked back instinctively, his eyes wide in shock, leaving her face flushed with embarrassment. He’d apologized immediately, of course, and she’d been kind enough to accept it before hurriedly retreating into her house. Still, he couldn't help but feel the discomfort linger, knowing their interactions in class would be uncomfortable from here on out.

Spencer pushed open his door, too exhausted to bother with the light as he shrugged off his clothes, blindly stumbling toward the bed. He let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed onto the mattress—only to freeze when something beneath him let out a loud, panicked yelp. He scrambled back in shock, crashing to the floor in a clumsy heap, cursing loudly.

"What the fuck?" Spencer gasped, reaching for his lamp from the ground as he quickly sat up.

Y/N blinked at him in startled surprise, her brow furrowed and mouth slightly agape as she took in the sight of him sprawled on the floor. Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him, his body sagging as he realized she wasn’t some weird, perverted burglar waiting for him. Still, as the shock wore off, confusion crept in. Why was she in his bed?

“Are you alright?” Y/N squeaked, instinctively reaching down to help Spencer back onto the bed. Her mind was still foggy with sleep, and her heart was racing from the jarring wake-up call.

Spencer quickly slid under the covers, suddenly self-conscious of his state of undress, his face flushing as he glanced at her. He cleared his throat and gave a small nod. "I'm good, just… uh, why are you in my bed?"

Y/N hesitated, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she searched for an excuse that wouldn't sound ridiculous. But nothing came to mind. With a deep breath, she finally decided to just tell him the truth.

"I… I wasn't handling your date with Wren very well," Y/N confessed, her voice low. "I came in here hoping to get some peace because being near you usually makes me feel better. But instead, I just ended up crying myself to sleep in your bed. I'm really sorry," she added, her brows knitting together as she looked at him. "Wait—why are you here? I thought you were going to stay at Wren's."

Spencer’s expression softened as he took in her words. “I chose to come home,” he said quietly. “Wren’s nice, but tonight made me realize there’s really only one person I want across from me, or kissing me, or… anything else.” He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “But what do you mean you weren’t handling my date well? Why did you cry yourself to sleep, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, a wave of worry washing over her as her fatigue made it harder to hold back what she was feeling. Who could he possibly be talking about? She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before she finally spoke.

“I’ve been trying to figure this out for a while,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “And, Spence… I think I’m in love with you. I’ve probably been in love with you for a long time, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. Every time I thought about you with her, I felt so… sick. So jealous. Because I wanted to be the one you were with. I wanted to be the one you fell in love with.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unguarded. It was out in the open now. There was nothing left to hide.

To her surprise, Spencer let out a soft chuckle. Before she had a chance to take offense, he reached for her hands, holding them gently as he spoke.

"Y/N… you're already the one I've fallen in love with," Spencer confessed, his voice steady as his eyes held hers. "You're the reason I came back. As I sat across from her, it hit me—there’s no one else in this world that I’d rather be with than you."

Y/N blinked hard, ensuring that she wasn’t asleep and that this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t. He was still there when she opened her eyes, sitting cross legged and vulnerable (and enticingly bare under the covers) before her as he waited for her to respond. He tilted his head at that, laughing softly as his face scrunched in confusion.

“What are you doing, silly girl? I confess my love to you and your response is to blink at me like an owl?” Spencer teased, his nose twitching as he grinned.

Y/N huffed out a laugh of her own, gently squeezing his hands as she shook her head. “I’m sorry! I just— I wanted to make sure this was real,” she murmured, her eyes falling to their hands in her lap.

“Would… would a kiss help to solidify that it’s real?” Spencer offered, a shy smile on his face.

Y/N’s eyes widened at that, baffled but pleased with his newfound confidence. Maybe she should do his hair more often. Without a word, she nodded eagerly, leaning forward to gently capture his lips with her own.

The press of his lips against hers sent her spinning, as though reality itself was slipping away and all that remained was the grounding warmth of his hands cradling her face. Spencer’s kiss was all-encompassing—like she was the very breath he needed to live. She craved more, desperate to fan the flames between them until the heat ignited, consuming them both from within.

Spencer’s lips never left hers as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate movement. He carefully lowered her to the bed, his hands supporting her as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. "Feel real enough for you, yet?" he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, the faintest brush of his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away for even a second.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his teasing, lacing her fingers into his hair to tug gently in retaliation. The whine he let out sent a sharp pang of desire up her spine, and she tugged harder just to hear it again.

“Mm, not yet. I think you’ll have to do it again to really convince me.”

The words barely filled the space between them before his lips were back on hers. She let out a soft exhale as his hips settled against hers, unable to help the giggles that slipped free when she felt his hard cock pressing against her through his boxers. She wasn’t laughing at him, not at all. She was just lost in pure, blissful joy, reveling in the realization that he was finally hers.

“Stop giggling and kiss me back,” Spencer muttered, his voice laced with playful frustration, but her laughter was contagious, and soon he was laughing too. Their lips remained pressed together, but it was more of a chaotic, shared moment than an actual kiss. As they pulled away, both of them breathless, the last of his nerves melted away, and they simply stared at each other, the connection now clearer than ever.

Spencer had imagined plenty of times what it would look like to have her splayed underneath him in his bed (thoughts that were shamefully fueled by her soft sounds of pleasure through their shared wall whenever she thought he was asleep). Nothing his imagination had dreamed up could ever compare to the sight before him. She looked utterly captivating, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, eyes looking up at him with that familiar warmth. He always thought she was beautiful, without a doubt. But in this moment? She was a living, breathing work of art. A stunning, half-dressed masterpiece who was wrapping her legs around his waist with a shit-eating grin and—

“Oh—!”

Spencer squeaked as Y/N arched her hips into his again, grinding against him in a way that provided delicious friction against his aching cock. Spencer had never been more turned on than he was in this moment, the need thrumming through his veins driving him to rock gently against her in return.

Y/N’s grin faltered as her breath hitched, her brows pinching together as he began to thrust shakily against her through their underwear. Her mouth dropped open into a silent gasp as the head of his arousal brushed against her clit through the thin fabric, a helpless whine leaving her lips shortly after as he repeated the movement.

They were both too tired and too in love to rush their first time together (and Spencer’s first time in general), so they settled for this: the steady push and pull of their hips grinding together as their lips began to devour each other’s once more. The room quickly filled with their muffled noises of pleasure; soft moans and whimpers between passionate kisses and the rustling of his covers as they moved against each other creating an explicit symphony.

Spencer’s movements became more fervent as Y/N licked into his mouth, her nails dragging across his shoulder blades encouraging him to keep going. His body trembled as he felt her arousal dampening the front of his boxers, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat. She was soaked. All because of him.

Y/N’s head tipped back against his pillows, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach. His lips immediately moved to the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking gently at the skin there between whimpers of her name. It felt erotic, the both of them so turned on despite their exhaustion that they couldn’t help their movements, desperate to experience the other falling apart.

She’d make it up to him later, when she could actually take her time with him and make his first time something special, something memorable. But for now, she was perfectly content with this.

“Spence I’m—“ Y/N gasped, tangling her fingers into his hair as she began to writhe underneath him. “I’m about to—“

Her orgasm washed over her like a cold bucket of water, yanking the air from her lungs and making her body tense up as she cried out his name and clung to him. Spencer groaned alongside her, pulling his head from the crook of her neck so that he could watch her in awe. The sight alone almost had him cumming, his movements growing frantic as he chased his pleasure.

Her soft whines urged him closer and closer to the finish line as he rutted against her, and all he could manage was a soft shout of her name before his climax took hold of him, his cock throbbing against her as he spilled into his boxers. He collapsed against her, thrusting weakly with small whimpers to ride out both of their highs before his hips finally stilled.

Their chests heaved as they laid together, catching their breath. Y/N’s hands raked through Spencer’s hair, fighting to stay awake long enough so that they could clean up. When Spencer could finally move, he lifted up onto his forearms, pressing small, gentle kisses to her lips with murmured thank you’s before he climbed out of his bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. Once they were cleaned and stripped out of their cum-soaked clothes (to which Y/N and Spencer both giggled excessively about as they wriggled out of them), Spencer reached over to turn off his lamp.

Drained but happy, they collapsed into each other’s embrace, winding together in Spencer’s bed and surrendering to the pull of sleep. Just before sleep claimed him, Spencer pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, whispering, "I love you, my sweet girl."

A soft smile tugged at his lips when he heard her whisper back, "I love you too, my sweet boy."

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[burnforyou]

FRAT PRESIDENT - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! frat sweetheart gets with the frat president: Luigi. he interrupts/catches you masterbating. also im aware frat sweethearts usually don't live in the house but I don't care this is my fanfiction. (I honestly don't know how frats/sororities work). enjoy!

based off of this ask and these photos

!WARNINGS! alcohol, smut!!!!!, female masterbation, he's creepy kinda (as he always is in my fics, its a reoccurring theme), choking, a lot of force, overstim, rough + raw.

you knew once your frat president, Luigi Mangione, took his shirt off at the party, you were going to have a long night.

not in the way you might think, where you have to take care of him because he's too drunk.

no, that's his problem.

more in a way where you have to take care of yourself, privately.

you stumble up the stairs to your bedroom, your last cup threatening to come back up. you fall back onto your bed and close your eyes, tuning out the party and the rest of the world.

being a frat sweetheart is not as easy as it looks, you truly take care and love all of the boys like they're your actual brothers. and once again, it's not what you think it is.

well, there's one boy you love a little bit more than like a brother. Luigi Mangione, the fraternity president.

oh, Luigi!

you tilt your head back and press your thighs together just at the mere thought of him. you close your eyes and imagine him, his body burned into the back of your eyelids by now.

watching him take his shirt off with Jake and Ryan, he made them look so small compared to him. his back muscles rippled as he jokingly stretched, prepping to shotgun a can of beer. you bit your lip, gluttony taking over you.

you knew you were going to have a long night of fucking yourself, wishing it was Luigi, wishing he would hear you through the thin walls of your frat house and barge into your room to force himself on you.

Jake tossed him a can and he caught it with one hand, his long fingers completely wrapping around the can. you had to lean back on the fence to prevent yourself from falling over on the beer pong table. the people playing paid no attention to you gaping at Luigi from afar.

time seemed to slow down, like you were watching an old porn film from the 80s.

he punched a hole in his can with a key, tilted his head back, flicked the tab open, and began sucking the drink down. your whole body flushed and you relished in the sight.

you nearly moaned watching him swallow over and over, the drink running down his throat, as well as his bare upper body. the beer streamed down his chest and you wished you could get on your knees and lick it all off him.

you had to press your thighs together, your panties shamefully wetter than ever. they were practically sopping by the time you got up to your room.

you don't even bother taking your clothes off, you just pull your ruined panties to the side and plunge your fingers inside of yourself, gasping at the intrusion.

with your eyes closed, you're able to pretend luigi's fingers are deep inside of you, stretching you out, preparing you to take his cock. you moan out into your empty bedroom.

then you remember a little present that's sitting in the bottom of your underwear drawer: your vibrator. you hop up, dig through your drawer and smile at the sight of your loyal, small pink vibrator. how could you forget about her?

you hop back into bed and actually settle in this time: abandon your dress on the floor and hide under the safety of your blankets. you press the small "on" button and hold the buzzing vibrator onto your clit. your back arches, your hips rock and a moan slips out of you uncontrollably.

your mind flickers with images of Luigi, one sticking out more than the others: him rocking his hips into your for the first time and his jaw dropping at the sensation of your pussy gripping onto him.

you slip one finger in your hole, then another, and eagerly fuck yourself with a hunger so deep, a longing, a horrible desire for Luigi Mangione.

it feels like you're moaning right to his face, begging him to make love to you.

on the other side of the wall, Luigi has his ear pressed against the thin thing you called a wall. he gasps when your vibrator begins buzzing, the tent in his shorts growing even more.

it's so erotic, filthy, almost creepy, what's happening now. you fingering yourself, imagining him, yearning for him. him on the other side of the wall, listening to your moans and your pussy squelching around your fingers.

"oh, Luigi," you moan, louder than before, "fuck me, please!"

when he hears you moan his name, he loses all self control completely and furiously enters your bedroom. but you don't notice him.

and there you were, pleasuring yourself in front of him like a divine entity. your mouth stayed open, trembling and letting out small whimpers every time you grinded on your fingers.

your fingers, your soft hands, so small compared to his.

just wait until my fingers are inside of you.

he carefully locks the door behind him with a click. the small sound has your eyes flying open.

"luigi!" you shout in surprise, holding your covers over your chest to protect what little dignity you have left. you fumble your still-buzzing vibrator and to your demise, it rolls down off your bed and onto the floor.

he looks between the vibrator and you. your heart beats so intensely you fear he could hear it from across the room. you grip onto your bed sheets for dear life and regret all of your life choices.

unfortunately for you, your small pink magic wand rolls across the floor, right to luigi's feet. he picks it up and presses the "on" button, filling the room with a deep silence for the first time.

he stalks up to your bed agonizingly slow. his eyes ares are full of a dark emotion, which you can't tell if its desire, or anger. or both?

"what do we have here?" he smirks, holding the toy out with his thumb and pointer finger. you try and reach for it, but he's faster than you are. he swerves his arm backwards when you lunge at him, lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your nipple that you accidentally flashed. even more blood rushes to his already aching cock.

"what are you wearing?"

you hesitate, knowing you're completely bare besides your thin panties you've pulled to the side.

"come on, show me." he nods to you, reaching down to palm his cock with his empty hand.

you look up into his eyes, the look on his face sending a shiver over your whole body.

you hesitantly pull the covers off your body, revealing your chest first.

"fuck," he groans, licking his lips and continuing to touch himself, "keep going baby."

you push the sheet off the rest of your body, revealing your bare skin to him for the first time. your skin burns under his heated gaze.

"god, you're so beautiful," he mutters. he shakes his head in disbelief. his eyes run all over your body and you press your thighs together.

he crawls onto your bed, his weight on the mattress making you slide towards him slightly. his broad shoulders cast a shadow over you.

he grabs the side of your neck and forces your lips on his roughly. you had no choice but to kiss him back, moaning into his animalistic kiss. you grasp onto his collared shirt and pull him down on you, his weight crashing onto your body.

he comes up from the kiss, you two heavy breathing in unison. your eyes flutter open and your met with his built arms caged around your head. before you can look into his eyes he's ducking into your neck and kissing down the side, where his hand once was. his scruff slightly scratched your soft skin.

"you smell so good," he whispered into your neck, making you whimper softly.

he drags his hand down your silhouette, lightly grazing the side of your tit before resting on your hip, right on your waistband. he hooked his finger around the thin fabric and attempted to pull them down with your help.

he drags his tongue up your neck, nibbling on your earlobe.

"I heard you, touching yourself for me." he murmurs into your ear, "you wanted me to fuck you, hm?"

"please," you whimper softly, grasping onto his wide back.

"you wanted me to make you feel good, I'm here now," he slides his hand down to your bare, already sensitive pussy, "you're already so wet f'me."

your whole body shudders against him. he kisses you soothingly, your whimpers lost in his lips. he slides his fingers through your folds, getting them soaked in your cream. his digits teased your hole and you grasp onto his curls, pushing him down on you harder.

"please, lu," you cry into his kiss. he finally slips 2 fingers into you, his thumb stretching to press onto your clit. your back arches against him and your nipples rub against his shirt.

he breaks the kiss first and presses his forehead against yours, his eyes full of greed.

"you're so pretty," he groaned as your pussy gripped his fingers, creating a satisfying wet noise as he intruded in you. you grinded against his digits, allowing him to feel you completely.

he curled his fingers and pressed on your clit just right and whispered "cum for me."

his name fell from your lips in a moan as your orgasm washed over you. he reveled in the sight of your orgasm, your head tilted back on your pillows and thighs shaking around him. he continues fucking his fingers into your pulsing pussy, his forearm straining.

"mmm, lui," you struggle to get out, head whipping from side to side as he overstimulates you. you try and push him off you but he's much stronger than you are.

he ends up pressing his hand to your throat, cutting off your airflow, just like you wanted him to. he presses his long fingers into your sensitive skin, making sure to leave markings. you grasp onto his wrist and desperately buck against him.

"you think you're ready now?" he hissed. you try and speak but nothing comes out. you nod desperately.

he removes his hands from you and you whine at the loss of warmth, but enjoy the sight of him stripping in front of you. he sits back and takes his shirt off, revealing his chest to you again. you bite your lip at the sight, admiring the body you know he worked to have. each one of his abs were shaped so perfectly they almost looked fake. his v-line, so defined its almost edging you. his happy trail runs from his belly button to below his waistline and you wish you could feel it on your forehead as he uses your face.

"you like what you see?" he laughs at you below him.

"and what if I do?" you shrug, reluctantly tearing your eyes off his abs.

he does the same thing to you, tearing his shorts and boxers off in one go so he can finally stroke himself. he runs his thumb over his tip, already wet with pre-cum, and his eyes run down your body. he cant believe this is real, he cant believe you're really bare in front of him, begging for him to have you.

he begins stroking himself, using his pre-cum as a lubricant, his hungry eyes locking onto your breasts, rising and falling with every breath you took.

his heavy eyes fell to your hips, the ones he'd been dreaming of holding. occasionally he'd use your hips to guide you, hold you for a photo, or just slipping past you in the house, and those small touches would have him gooning later.

you have no choice but to watch as he agonizingly strokes himself in front of you. tired of waiting for him, you push yourself up and grasp the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss you. your hand came between you two and wrapped around his thick cock. your mouth watered with a need to taste him.

"shit," he groaned, breaking the kiss, "I don't have a condom."

"I don't either, it's fine, I'm clean." you assure him, kissing him again.

"I haven't been with anyone since you moved in," he murmurs through the kiss. you pump kiss cock faster, feeling his veins pulsing.

"lay back, I need you," he groans deeply. you reluctantly let go of his cock and settle back onto the pillows. he follows you, pressing his weight onto you again, your bare chests touching.

he grinds his cock through your slick folds, shuddering at the feeling. he presses his forehead onto yours and grabs the back of your head with one of his hands.

he reaches down and aligns his raw tip with your dripping hole, advancing into you finally. his jaw fell open at the feeling of your pussy gripping him.

"lu, mm," you whimpered, your mind going blank. he bottomed out and kissed your lips feverishly. the sensation of him fully in you was so overwhelming you couldn't do anything but lay there and take him. he raised his hips and slammed them back into yours, making you both moan.

"you feel so fucking good," he grunted through gritted teeth, his pace picking up. he looked down at your pussy taking him, watching his cock (which now had a ring of your arousal around the base) go in and out of you smoothly.

"god," he looked up at you and smiled, his perfect white teeth glistening. "you're amazing."

you wrapped your legs around his waist and forced him into you deeper, laying back in pure ecstasy.

the sound of his skin slapping on yours and the bed frame creaking filled the room.

it almost prevented you from hearing him sneakily turn on your vibrator.

while your eyes were closed, intoxicated on his dick, he pressed your vibrating toy onto your sensitive clit.

"oh my god," you nearly screamed, your back arching into him. he pressed you down flat again, still pounding into you while pinning the vibrator onto you.

you tried to force your legs shut but he grabbed your thighs, ferally forcing them back down on the mattress.

"It's too much," you moaned, trying to get away from him. you pushed on his lower stomach, trying to push him away. (you shamefully enjoyed the feeling of his hard abs rippling under your hand).

"you can take it," he kept on spreading you open, ruthlessly tormenting your pussy with his cock and now your toy.

"please, Luigi," you shouted, your voice mixed with pain and pleasure, "I can't do it."

he ignores your protests and blocks your throat with his hand again, successfully shutting you up and making you take it.

"that's it, pretty girl, you can do it." he leaned down to leave a peck on your forehead, but came back up quick to keep looking at you.

he thought you looked so gorgeous like this. it was electrifying, finally getting to have you. and to make you feel so good.

you resort to scratching your fingernails into his back, leaving your marks with every hard thrust.

he feels your walls clamp around him harder, his cock pulsing.

"you gonna cum again?" he asks you, knowing you cant say anything. he fucks into you impossibly harder than before, his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.

"yeah, do it for me pretty girl, il mio tesoro, cum on my cock," he groans, still pressing the vibrator onto you.

you uncontrollably thrash under him, grasping onto his shoulder with your nails. your second orgasm hit you with much more force than the first, the coil in your stomach coming undone much harder. your vision went dark and you came all over his raw cock. you clamped around him so hard he almost couldn't fit inside of you, your cum overflowing all over the bed and his skin.

somewhere in your high, he turned the vibrator off and stored it away.

when you came down, he finally slipped out of you and fell back on the bed beside you, heavy breathing. sweat dripped down both of your bodies and the sheets was soaked beneath you.

you were too caught up in your own pleasure to notice that he didn't finish.

you finally opened your eyes and were met with him gazing at you, a light smile on his face.

"hey, bella ragazza, how are you?" he whispers.

"I'm better than ever."

"you need some water?" he asks, gently reaching for the water bottle on your nightstand. you nod silently. he holds the bottle up to you and you take a small sip.

"you probably need this more than me, you did all the work." you smile lazily. he shakes his head and smiles.

"I'm sure your throat is sore, drink."

you giggle.

"did you like that, by the way," he asks shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I did," you nod, affirming his worries, "maybe a little too much."

"oh, you're freaky." he laughs.

"hmph, only for you."

he takes a swig out of the bottle and your eyes fall down his body, noticing his dick is still hard.

"hey, lu, did you cum?"

"that'll be for another time baby, I have a frat party to attend to," he says, slipping out of your bed.

"you promise?" you hold onto his arm and whimper, desperate for him.

he leans down and kisses your forehead. "I promise. go to sleep now, we'll talk in the morning."

as your eyes flicker shut, he puts his once-discarded clothes back on. he grabs your panties and vibrator, shoving them into his pocket.

later that night, you felt the bed dip and a body pull your back against them. you tried to fight it, but their strong arms held you against them.

"shhh, its just me, go back to sleep." Luigi whispered against your hair.

MASTERLIST - PREV WORK

part 2 incoming where the rest of the frat brothers plan them a frat wedding and he Monica Lewinsky's all on my gown! or another part where he buys you a remote controlled vibrator and makes you wear it at another frat party??????? omg I am meaningless mush.

anyways I'm so emo bc we're not gonna see Luigi until January or February :( I hope he's okay :((((

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @darleneslane

[willyoubemycherryy]

TAKE3🎬 +Clark Kent x Reader_

Even more drafts😭 (wrote this one a while ago)

Summary: In 3…2..1,

Contains: ur drunk🤠but fear not ur bf has ur back, ke$ha mentions, kissing, flirting, petnames, some smut but not all the way bc ur wasted and Clark doesn’t do that, flirting, cursing, teasing, ONE drinking problem JOKE, established relationship, initiated fun times n more

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

“I don’t care what people say-“,

You were drunk.

“The rush is worth the price I pay!”

Hopelessly, totally, and completely plastered. Singing in every key imaginable as you swing your hair around, posing dramatically with one arm while the other loops around his neck for balance. The sweet smell of your perfume and one too many drinks mix with your drunken giggles, creating something he’s learned to uniquely but affectionately call- you.

Clark carries you with one arm, forearm hooked under your knees while the rest of you is snug against his chest and bicep.

Except for when you use him as momentum; completely ignoring his trying to safely get you both up to your apartment and the way you could help by not doing what you were currently doing.

“I loooove you Clarkykins”, you coo. Voice syrupy sweet as he’s suddenly the the center of your attentions and he can’t fight the warmth creeping into his cheeks from the back of his neck despite the awful nickname.

You two have been together for a while now and it’s not the first time you’ve told him but when you say it so unabashedly it makes his heart stutter.

“I love you too my little drinking problem”, he says back affectionately- joking though about the nickname and you gasp in faux offense.

“Hey! I do not have a drinking problem! You have a drinking problem!”

You smush his nose for emphasis and he snorts, shifting you a bit as he fishes the keys from his pocket to unlock the door, nodding in agreement even with the irony of your statement. He- like you- mostly drank socially but unlike you, he could hold his liquor. Being so much bigger and all.

“Of course I do, I’m also the one that’s drunk right now huh?” You nod jerkily- like you were right all along and it’s so cute. Cute how even in inebriation, you’re as stubborn as you normally are- ready to argue him down whether you’re right or not and his grin broadens when you reply sluggishly.

“Exaactly.”

You both get in and Clark softly kicks the door shut behind you, locking it and making a beeline towards your room. A bubbly giggle makes him look down at you, your hand in your dress cupping your favorite boob as you giggle yourself dizzy. He quirks a brow, the corner of his own mouth lifting as he waits for you to catch your breath. When you do..

“We’re sooooo gonna fuck aren’t we?” If he wasn’t holding you, he would’ve stumbled. The back of his neck warms enough to rush down his back and the nerves along with your natural shamelessness make him chuckle.

“Sweets, you’re drunk-“

“Sooo?” You cut him off with a confused pout and he shakes his head in disbelief. There’s no way…

“Sooo, you’re not of sound mind enough for my liking to consent to..”, he pauses as he sets you down on the bed, pointedly looking away from your breasts that you’ve gone from massaging to taking them out completely. Puffy, stiff nipples on display while you pout prettily at him and for a few seconds he looses his train of thought, “…c-consent to intercourse”, he rushes out before pushing himself up to kneel by the end of the bed- wrapping his hand around your ankle, lifting your foot as he takes off your heels. The pattern of the straps left slight indents on your skin and without thinking he lowers his head and kisses them.

Your little gasp lets him know that he’s skating on thin ice with what you want from him and that under normal circumstances, he’d give it to you. Gladly. So he pulls away, rising to his feet while holding yours to his stomach and less than a second later your arms are up as you reach toward him, bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you whine and he groans. There were rarely times when he told you no but when he did, it was usually for your own good. Doesn’t make now any easier though.

“Please Clark? Just wan’ a kiss- promise”, you pout, words slurring as you ask extra nicely but he can’t trust it. Because he knows you. Just like he knows that the minute he lets himself fall on top of you, you’re gonna wrap your soft self around him and give him hell until you pass out. He shakes his head, dilating pupils setting on the stiff peaks of your chest. Swallowing harshly.

“No, you want to seduce me.” And you laugh at that. At how miserable he sounds and your buzz becomes a rush as you twist one ankle out of his grip to trail it below his belt; applying pressure to the hardening swell beneath with a sigh that’s a lot less innocent then the way you were looking at him.

“Is it working?” You whisper before a soft yawn escapes you and he’s relieved as he whispers back,

“You tell me.”

Your eyes sparkle and when you reach for him again, he doesn’t resist. Falling on you as your legs wrap around him just like he knew they would. Maybe it’s by gravity, maybe it’s by wind of the fan but he doesn’t push away when you kiss him. Instead he kisses back.

You’ll fall asleep any moment now so there’s no harm in in indulging you. It’s slow but the want is there and the way you melt against him- purring in satisfaction- heats his blood something fierce as he suckles your lips between his own, pushing and pulling until your mouths open wider; slotted hotly against each others when you pull his hair.

The little jolt of pain makes him groan as you roll your hips up into his and he licks firmly into your mouth as you moan weakly, breath slowing but by bit until it eventually evens out and he pulls away but your eyes stay closed. Chest rising and falling peacefully. Asleep.

Clark lets out a deep sigh as he gets off, careful not to jostle the bed too much and disturb you, walking to the bathroom to get your makeup wipes. He takes off your dress after diligently but gently wiping your face clean- ignores his hard on to just look at you. Smiling fondly as he runs his knuckles down the apple of your cheek.

You always managed to give him some kind of trouble before you conked out- especially when you drank but it was just another one of your habits he knew you had that he couldn’t bring himself to mind. He could never mind you.

Like tomorrow he knows you’ll wake up either wanting to pick up where you two left off or craving sweets. For some reason, he misses you when you’re asleep so no matter what you pick when you wake, he’s just happy to be there with you.

Clark gets ready himself, stripping down to just his boxers before climbing into bed with you, huffing at the glitter still in your hair as he presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you close to him as he falls asleep with your weight warm against his side.

[reidmotif]

my fic + author recs!

i have been suuuper disgruntled by the fic community recently and how casually and thoughtlessly some fic writers/readers seem to be indirectly insulting people’s work. this community and its fics are so varied, and i think they deserve to be appreciated. which is why im reccing a bunch of my fav fics!! please give these writers sooo much love!!

(about all of my recs are nsfw, but some authors mentioned do have sfw fics. please explore and follow the warnings outlined for each fic!!)

“i know your wife and she wouldn’t mind” by @stairain

gotta start out with stairain. i would pretty much credit my whole desire to write fanfics to the fact that i religiously read their whole masterlist a summer ago. they are a fantastic writer, and i love how they captured spencer here. take a look!

“i want you” by @smurphyse

i HEAVILY recommend smurphyse as an author. their series, room 405 is probably one of my most reread fics ever. their threesome and foursome fics are beyond supreme. i love this one shot they’ve written, and i hope you guys do too!

“loverboy” by @sundrop-writes

while i dont think this person writes for cm anymore, their fics for it were fantastic. i love how they captured sub spencer, and i think this is one of my most reread fics ever.

“puppy eyes” by @misserabella

i am in looove with the way this person writes. while i dont have a link to it, “sick love” changed my brain chemistry. sub spencer save me sub spencer save me.

“summer of sin” by @mercy-burning

hoooly shit. if you know me, you’ll know i probably reccomend this fic to everyone i know. i just genuinely can’t say anything besides telling you with my whole heart to check it out. awesome way to close out your summer honestly.

i would love to write blurbs about my love for these fics for everyone, but i fear the post would become too longwinded. here are some links and authors i recommend just as enthusiastically as i did the others above.

@reiderwriter

@foxy-eva

@fortheloveofwonderland

@incognit0slut

@beelmons

@imagining-in-the-margins

@criminalmindzjunkie

@andiebeaword

@reidsrambles

@eideticmemory

@sinfulspencer

@wheelsup

@beautifulbrainrot

@moon-light-jukebox

@gubsbuubs

@minswriting

@golden1u5t

@ginkgo-phyta

@gubler-me-up

@reidbae

@crypticreid

“who’s counting” by @samuel-de-champagne-problems

“behave back there” by @writingmar

“mile high club” by @littlexdeaths

“next to you” by @zombiefiilm

“testing the limits” by @reidsdimples

“follow my lead” by @mismatched-sockss

“welcome home” by @spencerreidenjoyer

“incentive” by @reidslibrarybook

“the very first night” by @writer-in-theory

this request from @donald4spiderman

“malicious compliance” by @aliteralsemicolon

“all zipped up” by @ipseitydelrey

this request from @thedancingcostumeyoungadult

this request from @astrophileous

“scream for you” by @hornyhornyhimbos

“thin walls” by @byersbootyshorts

“just my type” by @reidgraygubler

welcome to the small blurb after where i say something that’s been bugging me. i think it’s corny to indirectly insult people’s work on here. i think it’s corny to imply a “correct” way to write a character, especially in terms of writing about a characters sex life, a sex life that has no canonical basis to it! (i am talking about spencer here, if it is not obvious). i think it’s thoughtless, arrogant and all around odd to engage with that type of behavior. the variety of fanfiction that exists here is such an awesome thing, and i think itd be so incredibly boring if we all thought the same thing and wrote the same thing about the same characters over and over again.

if you’re a writer and you’ve felt that your work has been unappreciated or rejected, or have read something that left you feeling off about your own work, i am very sorry. every contributor to this fandom is awesome. you deserve every flower ever. 🌷🌷🌷

and if you’re reading this and feel called out.. examine that! i make this post off of a general vibe i have examined in the past few weeks. there is no level of entitlement you hold that allows you to dictate how and what people should write.

i say these words with little malice. id like to hope everyone is capable of being a little better everyday, and i hope any amount of reflection can lead to that.

anyway, that’s all ❤️ baiiii enjoy reading!!!!!

[desigal-26]

I just finished reading "desert snake" and damn this is so well written! Sooo can I get a part two (and maybe a 3 or 4, who knows?🤭) with more of daemon and Martell reader's relationship and their relationship building, more of them in this game of seduction and flirting before marriage, please? (maybe she'll create a special nickname for him too?)

You demanded, I served

Red Wings

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Read Part One here

He had never been one to fear blades or a little blood. She had never feared drawing both

Daemon had many assumptions about his new intended who had made a home in the corners of his mind—with only just a meeting. But a few of those assumptions are broken as their courting continues under the shine of the moonlight.

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE. Sexual tension, Daemon having explicit thoughts about Reader, Flirting (or sexual innuendos, I can’t decide), Reader knows how to yield a sword, Daemon being unhinged (like grabbing a blade with bare hand unhinged), Blood, Almost foreplay-ish thing, a little bit hint of breeding kink. This turned out more sinful than I wanted it to be. My writing(?).

Word Count: 2.8k

The Martell Princess was everything Daemon hadn’t expected her to be.

In his mind, he had imagined a naïve, young lady with youthful features and charm and shy eyes that would never dare to look him in his amethyst ones. Someone who—much like the ladies of King’s Landing—would flatter under his gaze and blush and smile before realising that he is everything their parents warned them about. The kind of prince they should stay away from.

After all, he is the Lord of Flea Bottom.

He earned that name, not by fluke, but by his constant visits to the taverns and pleasures houses—enjoying his drinks and whores to his desires before leaving to fulfil his duties as the Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks. He earned that name because he sat with those people—the common folks his brother seldom thinks off—and treated them like an equal, because he never discriminates between the comrades he drinks with.

Daemon wondered why Viserys had a problem with the betrothed couple from meeting before the ceremony. But then again, the King does not trust his brother when it comes to arranged marriages and women. And he is right for it. Because if things worked the way the Rogue Prince wished them to, he would have seduced the Martell Princess to his bed already.

How can someone not be enthralled by her beauty? He would argue. How can someone resist something as exotic as her?

He wondered how she looks beneath the flowy silk fabric of her dress that bares just enough to have him intrigued but not enough to satiate his imaginations. And hence, he lets his mind wander, conjure images of her laid upon the deep crimson sheets of his bed, bare as the day she was born.

He could partially feel the warmth radiating off her body, the flushed skin masked underneath a thin layer of sweat that shone in the most tempting manner when the sun hit it in the right direction. The delicious manner of her muscles twitching underneath his calloused hands once he is done with her—for the time being.

Because Daemon knows, once he have had her all to himself, he would not be done with her for a very long time. And a part of him hoped that the last be mutual—not that it would take him much to let her reciprocate them.

After all, he has a way with his women’s.

His mind conjured up the soft noises she would make—whimpers and moans and pleas that would vary from “don’t stop” to “please” to “no more”—and the feel of her touch over his scalding skin—nails scratching his back, fingers tugging at his hair, plump lips worshipping every inch of his c—

A knock interrupted his thoughts, forcing out a scoff as he stood up, running a hand through his slicked back hair in frustration. Whosoever had interrupted him surely seemed to have the worst timing and little to no hand in luck. For who crosses the dragon when he is deep in thoughts of his dear mate but the one with a death wish.

“Come in,” he grumbled, making his way to the table where he had discarded Dark Sister. The legendary sword of Visenya Targaryen which was bestowed upon him by his grandfather Jaehaerys—the only gift from his family that he truly cherishes that day. But he knew, that would change in due time.

The door opened with a silent creak before closing, making him look over his shoulder to find a woman standing in his chambers. A Dornish woman—not his betrothed—but someone of importance. The woman was older than the princess, dressed in a less revealing dress than what he had seen on his intended. A sheer cloth masked her features, only baring the eyes to the Rogue Prince.

“My Prince,” the lady dipped in a curtsy before taking two steps towards him, hand extended—holding a single piece of folded parchment.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his gaze flitting between the paper held out for him and the lady who didn’t even introduce herself to him. The thrill of the situation lingered in his spine, and he knew that this has something to do with his desert snake. After all, a viper seldom ever attacks when she knows that her prey is in his domain. No, she draws it out to her domain, where the prey is more likely to panic, and then attack.

He smirked at the thought, taking the parchment from the woman who only bowed and quietly slipped away from his chambers, intriguing the prince even more.

The piece of paper was smooth beneath his fingertips, like it was made of silk itself. He unfolded it with great care, eyes scanning the small message scribbled on it in a fancy handwriting that he assumed belonged to the princess.

Training grounds. The hour of witches. Bring your sword.

He had expected her to obey the rule made by his brother—to not meet until the wedding ceremony was upon them, especially alone, without a chaperone. But she clearly doesn’t seem to be someone who obeyed the words of another—much like he was.

She had picked the place with due consideration—that was clear to the prince. For the training grounds were the only place in the entire Maegor’s Keep that was truly isolated and unsupervised under the moonlight. No prying eyes, or ears that would listen. Only the moon and a sole observer of whatever shall transpire between them.

His eyes flickered to his sword, mind running miles away and he wondered why she would ask him to bring Dark Sister—his beloved sword. Surely the rumours he had heard of her being able to yield a sword must be false—for which noble women has been allowed to learn that. None, as he remembers it, except for of course his ancestors. But then again, Targaryens were always…different. Queer to the traditions of the lands they rule upon. But is there a possibility that his betrothed knows how to yield a blade like a knight yields it in battle?

The thought excited him to the unforeseen limits, causing a shiver down his spine before he made his way to the desk, opening a leather-bound tomb of “Aegon and his Conquest of the Seven Kingdoms” and placing the invitation in it before closing it.

Daemon wasn’t a sentimental fool, but how can he not store something as exciting as this? An invitation, a challenge to his brother’s nonsensical rule, an evidence that she is just as unhinged as he is when it comes to the barriers of the court.

The sun had been gone for hours now, and as the moments to the witching hour ticked closer, Daemon found himself glancing outside at the moon that hung from the starless sky—a sole figure of light in the dark night that seemed to hold its breath for what was to come, just as the Rogue Prince was holding his while his fingers clasped the pommel of his sword tightly, twisting and moving and flipping the familiar blade around, seeking solace in that weight and the control it brought.

Slowly, once the moon was overhead, he moved, slipping into a secret pathway to go to the training grounds undetected by the guards that were stationed around the royal wing. After all, all the fun will be ruined if his brother catches wind of his meeting with the beautiful desert snake with eyes that challenged him silently.

The flickering light from the torch he held in his hand danced across the plain walls of the tunnel that ran across the fortress—a secret that only a few knew. He had more than once spied on his brother and his treacherous council from behind these walls, heard the words never meant for his ears, learnt secrets no one should have known. But now, these tunnels were going hold one of his secret—a visit no one must know off except for him and her.

His empty hand grazed the stone wall that marked the end of the pathway, nudging it open to step out in the vacant space of the training ground’s entrance. Torches were scarce with no one in sight, but he could hear the distant noise of a blade swishing in the air, connecting with what he assumed was a dummy.

His steps were quiet—covered by the dewy grass that grew around the entrance—a smirk on face as his gaze captured the sight in front of him, committing it to his memory.

The princess had her back to him, tight training leathers accentuating the best of her body, almost providing it on a platter for his eyes to feast. Her long and dark hair were bound in a thick braid that slithered down her back, almost mixing into the dark leathers she wore. The pants she wore were visibly tailored for her, fitting her to every inch of her shapely legs. Combat boots, laced and polished, provided her the balance she required to swing the longsword that shone underneath the moonlight.

“That is very un-ladylike of you, desert snake,” he commented dryly, stepping out of the shadows while she turned around swiftly, sword clutched tightly in her hand, a smirk forming on her lips while sweat beaded her forehead. She tilted her head to the side, letting her eyes rave over his tall figure before humming to herself.

“I had assumed you wouldn’t come,” she mused, her eyes challenging him to come closer, to do something they shouldn’t. And Daemon was never the one to turn down a challenge.

He unsheathed Dark Sister, the blade shining menacingly, before he raised it in her direction. The tip of the sword gleamed in an equally challenging manner and it had her smirk growing while she herself bent her knees slightly, legs apart and her own sword raised to cling against his in a ‘challenge accepted’ manner.

Their eyes studied each other, learning and looking for any weakness that might become an asset to a win. Two predators circling each other with their teeth bared but no growls yet. Just a quiet precision that didn’t come from being entitled but from forging oneself into being worthy of something—of being not only a predator, but an apex predator.

Daemon was the first one to attack, lunging forward while his body moved in his own accords, watching carefully and she danced away with a sharp smirk before she tried attacking, forcing him a few steps back—her braid swaying with each of her movement. Their swords clang midair, the sound echoing but to them, it was all distant.

All of their world was centred on each other, in studying and contemplating one another’s next move, of the anticipation of what came next.

“I do not shy away from challenges,” he growled, making her grin, her body diving for a spot he had intentionally left unprotected, instantly retorting back when she realised that it was more of a trap than a mistake. Her eyes gleamed under the silvery light of the moon, defiance and excitement dancing in a dangerous ballad as the swords met again and again while the two traded attacks and defensive measures. None ready to lose just yet.

“Good, because I do not like women who can’t keep me intrigued.”

She chuckled, her flexibility helping her in a dangerous move which ended up with Daemon’s back pressed to the wall behind him, the tip of her longsword hovering right above his frantically beating heart, just enough pressure applied to make him feel the sharpness of the blade and the woman.

“You lost, Red Wings.”

The Rogue Prince raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing at the nickname. He tutted, his hand twisting his sword until its tip rested above her covered stomach, pressing just enough to make a nick in the leather, revealing a sliver of tanned skin that had his gaze darkening and blood pumping.

“Did I, Desert Snake?” His other hand grabbed the blade pressed against his chest, twisting it and bringing her closer until his dominant hand reached for waist, slamming her back to his chest while blood bloomed in his left hand from the cut of her blade.

Her breath hitched at the sudden move, being caught off guard as her back hit his lean yet muscled chest, arching off while she tried to move away but the looming sharpness of Dark Sister around her abdomen had her stopping mid step. Her own longsword was clutched in her right hand, its blade still in Daemon’s grip, blood glistening over it.

“That’s unfair,” she protested, panting. Her face turned to her side, chin tipped up to look at the smirking prince who perched his face on her shoulder, his voice dropping down an octave while he whispered, “you do not know unfair yet, princess.”

She shivered despite her better judgment, eyes widening at his implications, before she moved her hips against him, making him growl warningly at her.

“Yield now, princess. And I won’t torment you much on our wedding night,” he threatened, the Dark Sister’s gleaming Valyrian steel growing an inch closer to her heaving abdomen, teasing the ties in front that held her training clothes together.

“And who knows, might be that I thrive under torment, my prince,” she replied back with a cocky smile, making him chuckle in a deadly manner that promised danger and something too sinful to be named. His lavender eyes roamed over her features hungrily, a promise for violence and sin in his gaze before he knocked out her longsword away from her hand in a skilled move.

The sword forged in Dorne fell to the ground with a sharp clang, while Daemon’s now free but bleeding hand gripped her waist, before gently moving to unsheathe a dagger hidden in the shallow depths of her clothes.

His fingers grazed the pommel in a reverent gesture, the sunspear sigil of the House Martell a centre piece in the design apart from the slender snake that moved across its body. He flipped it expertly, smirking as he watched her eyes following the movements of his hand while Dark Sister drew ever so close to her.

“You do not poke a sleeping dragon.” His words were followed by the dagger trailing over her covered body, a teasing presence that had her stilling. Her eyes flickered to the two blades that trapped her body against her betrothed’s—a legendary Valyrian longsword and a dagger that belongs to her.

“Or what else?” She challenged still, enjoying the thrill of danger and adrenaline that coursed through her body, intoxicating and sinfully dangerous. But since when have the Martells ran away from anything dangerous? Never.

Daemon didn’t answer her question verbally, instead, the dagger trailed above, tracing the curve of her heaving chest before tearing through the top clasp, baring to his hungry eyes the tanned skin of her cleavage and only enough of the swell of her bosom to make salivate. He felt her gasp, heard the sound and committed it to his memory for the days counting up to their wedding.

“I am not a religious man, desert snake,” he let the words hang in the charged air surrounding them before continuing, “and I do not give a mind to the stupid traditions of the Seven.” His lips grazed the tip of her ear, biting in with enough force to have her meal beneath him, her hand grabbing on to his—the one holding the Dark Sister.

He enjoyed it—the power he had gained over her in this moment. The feeling of her completely at his mercy. The authority that had him stiffening in his breeches, moving his hips against the swell of her ass and had her choking on to her breath.

The sounds that she made were music to his ears, and gods, did he want to take her right then and there. But he won’t. Not when he can have her to himself once she is lawfully his in only a few matter of days—wrapped in white silk and lace, dolled up for him to take her, bed her and fill her up with his child.

His blood had smeared her clothes already, his scent latching onto her body and the night had given him enough to spend the next days in imagination.

He let her go, the dagger dropping on the ground beside her sword while he withdrew Dark Sister, letting her step away from him with panting breaths and wide, unguarded eyes. The smirk usually on her face was gone, and she looked every bit of a maiden Daemon had ever taken—wide eyed, innocent and his to take.

“I will see you at the end of the aisle, desert snake.”

[3amfanfiction]

Absolutely adore your ghost!Johnny idea lol 😍 definitely imagine he’d be giving reader trouble while she’s trying to sleep, an invisible body grinding and humping her at night. Ughhhh I just image reader having to deal with it 😭

hi nonnie, enjoy!

tags: 700 words, noncon touching, ghost!johnny won't let you sleep.

Part 4 of the ghost!johnny mini-series going on

Part 1 || Previous

~~~

You'd like to say that you settled into a routine. That you made peace with your ghostly friend and learned how to cohabitate in your shared living space.

That was not what happened.

He was a fucking menace.

"Johnny," you said, exasperated. You'd learned his name and he seemed bound and determined to make you say it again and again in increasingly aggravated tones. You understood that being a ghost was tough but it certainly wasn't easy on you either!

You weren't looking to sympathize with him right now, right now you wanted him out of your bed.

You threw back an elbow only for it to pass harmlessly through where a flesh and blood body would be, his arm around your waist never wavering. "Get out. I'm tired and I want to go to sleep."

He didn't budge, keeping glued to your back. It was strange—where you'd expect a line of heat instead you got a slight chill. He was there, there was space under the covers where his body would be and yet you could still feel the air from the fan touching your back as if there was nothing behind you.

"I'm tired and I'm going to bed, stop fucking around," you grumbled into the bedsheets trying your best to ignore him. You'd just started to doze off when you felt his hand creeping under your shirt to cup your breast. He held it in his palm like a stress ball, rhythmically kneading it, playing with its plushness.

You jerked awake and away from him so hard you almost made it off the bed.

"Stop that!" you screeched in shock. You heard him chuckle but he was incorporeal right now and not visible, not even a lump in the blanket anymore. It left you darting your gaze left and right trying to find him.

After a minute or two you climbed back into bed, hopeful that he was done and would leave you alone now. The quiet embraced you, lulling you in deeper and deeper. Your bed was warm and your bedroom was cool, the slowly circulating air filling your lungs with each breath. The chill darted along the skin down your throat, almost like someone was dragging their lips along it. A gentle caress you couldn't help but fall deeper into, your chin dropping down in your sleepy doze to give more room.

The chilled press trailed down to your shoulder, toying with the skin right in the crook of your neck. The soft barely there touches were about to send you off, sleep beckoning right around the corner. You were taking that final step when teeth nipped at the thin skin and it felt like a jolt of electricity as you realized at once what was going on.

Your knee crooked up, ready for you to lunge out of the bed when you felt a great weight settle over your back, pinning you to the mattress.

A rapid huff left your lungs as you were pressed into the bed, eyes shooting wide as you attempted to scramble forward. The weight along your back and legs made that impossible. The force too heavy to budge.

Johnny! wheezed out, lungs fighting to reinflate. You gasped when he finally shifted, lifting off you to manhandle you back into position on your side.

"Now stop fussing, living people need their sleep and it's bed time." burred into your ear. Like you were the one keeping him up, the one instigating all of this. If he would just make his way out of your bed there wouldn't be a problem. But you didn't say anything.

You didn't even say anything when his hand made its way inside your shirt again, reaching up to resume its previous positioning. Your back went ramrod straight, breath hitching as you debated telling him off. You were just so tired though.

You fought it for a time before deciding to pick your battles. You had an early day tomorrow and you really needed to get to sleep. And it was already so late, your eyelids felt like they had weights on them, dragging them down.

So you made peace with it. Ignoring how he was holding your chest in order to finally sleep. You'd deal with the repercussions in the morning.

[waywardcrow]

Dress.

Summary: After a mission where they crossed a line, Bucky decides to talk about what happened that night with you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader.

WC: Almost 1600.

TW: Avengers kind of things, talk about weapons, sad reader and sad Bucky, misunderstendings, agents talking shit because of jealousy, SMUT (do not interact if you're not +18) some kissing, dancing and boners lol, semi public make out, oral (f recieving) fingering, hint of other things but not so much because I'm so bad a t this, sorry, let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

You hated everything that night, the happy people who were eager to get drunk and forget about the ending year, the music too loud that didn’t let you think, the beautiful dress you bought for that very occasion specifically because you wanted to impress a certain super soldier in the New Year's Eve party but that was before last mission, before you messed it all up.

If you closed your eyes, you could see everything playing perfectly in your mind, how unprofessional you were, how much space Bucky put between you two in the quinjet, the tension that followed you the last days and the words of the agents who probably knew about what happen from him. It was a disaster and you wouldn’t escape from it, Tony would never let you go without an explanation if you requested a transfer to another area.

Distracted, drinking your problems you didn’t noticed Bucky’s gaze tearing apart the pretty gold dress you were wearing as if he could feel your skin against his like that night.

It was a simple mission, find the target, watch it until Valkyrie and Wanda could secured the evidence –an arsenal of Asgardian weapons- and then arrested everyone but your cover was necessary and thanks to your powers, the ability to manipulate brain’s perception to make your audience see what you want- make you perfect to blend with him in that shady club pretending to be just a couple looking for a good time.

Easier to say than done, Bucky fought his boner all night with you dancing too close to him, whispering things in his ear, sitting in his lap… sure you could feel how much he wanted to fuck you there in front of everybody, he indulged in his little fantasy when he feel your own arousal, he told himself it was for the mission when he took you to a semi empty corridor to kiss you dumb.

You tasted better than he imagined, like honey and salvation, Bucky was sure that if he kept kissing you he would find heaven.

“Are you ok, terminator? You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm” Sam pulled him out of his mind just in time before he got in trouble righ there in the middle of the party.

“I’m fine” he wasn’t and Sam let out a chuckle.

“Just go and talk to her, you can’t keep avoiding each other forever.”

You were avoiding him, Bucky just gave you space after you walked away from him when the mission was over, like he didn’t almost cum from having you exactly where he wanted you, with your perfect legs around him with just a thin layer of clothes between you.

“I said I’m fine” he said again, not looking at Sam when you made your way to the elevators, going after you.

It was better for you to leave early, too many drinks and you could end up crying or doing something you’ll regret, like talking to Bucky, who jumped in the elevator you called before the doors closed.

“Going to bed already?” he asked and you stared at him like an idiot, how could he look that good all the damn time? A black suit and white shirt shouldn’t make someone that hot, it was cheating “are you alright, honey?”

How have you missed his voice! A simple taste of him and you wanted more, you wanted him to touch you like that night, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like if time was against you both and every second he wasn’t making you feel all of him was a sacrilege.

“Why are you here, Bucky?”

Cornered, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, drawing his attention to your breasts, the memory of his lips pulling softly at your nipple made you want to close your legs to get some sort of friction, trying to calm the need for him.

Like he could read your mind, he licked his lips, wanting to pull your dress and bury himself in your chest but Bucky needed to have a conversation with you first.

“Are you going to avoid me forever, hon?” the super soldier lifted your chin to make you see him when you set your eyes in your heels “I can take a rejection, sweetheart but not you shutting me out completely.”

Bucky had made lots of friends with time but you were his first one, he didn’t want to lose you; you, in the other hand, were more confused than ever.

“What rejection? If anything, you’re the one who is not interested!” boldness coming from the alcohol made you talk before thinking about stopping “and don’t give me that look James Buchanan Barnes, you know perfectly what I’m talking about.”

The elevators door opened and you stormed out, going to you room, the audacity of that man!

“Can you explain to me what are you talking about?” Bucky took your hand and made you face him when you reached your door, all his cocky attitude was replaced by confusion.

“Please don’t pretend you didn’t tell Carla and Ashley what happen that night, I heard them talking the morning after in the gym” Above all the embarrassment there was hurt, you thought he could be trusted but Bucky proved you were an idiot “they were talking how you hated being assigned with me and to pretend to make out with me.”

Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest, what the hell were you talking about? He didn’t say anything, at all but you looked so sure he couldn’t speak.

“You made it very clear putting distance between us in the ride home but you didn’t have to tell them” your voice trembled, still you refused to cry, if that was the kind of man Bucky was, he didn’t deserve your tears.

“I swear I didn’t say anything, honey, I swear” he promised, making himself small to look at your eyes “I don’t know how they know, please believe me.”

You shake your head; you wanted to believe him but…

“I told no one, I really thought you were mad at me for taking advantage of the situation, that I misread it” he mumbled, desperate to prove you he was telling the truth, taking your face in his hands “I should have been more professional, more of a gentleman, ask you properly on a date, not acting like that, no matter how much I wanted it. That’s why I put space between us; Wanda and Val were looking at me like they would spray me with cold water if I breathed near you.”

Bucky wished you could read his mind to see he was honest but you still could, sensing his desperation matching yours.

“Do you really mean that?”

His heart broke at how unsure you sounded, he would spend every day of his life proving to you how much he meant it.

“I do, honey, you’re not only a friend to me, why do you think I requested to be with you in that mission?” with his arms around your waist, you put your hands in his chest to feel his heartbeat “I can’t be apart from you, I needed you close while I was gathering courage to confess my feelings but then I couldn’t hide it and…”

You interrupted him to kiss him, not giving a damn about anything but Bucky’s lips in yours. He opened the door and you took him with you to your room, tossing his jacket to the floor and taking your heels off.

“You should keep them on” he said between kisses, guiding you to your bed.

“Maybe next time” you promised, opening his dress shirt, he gave you a smirk while he took it off, like he couldn’t wait.

“This dress has to go, even if I love it.”

“I only bought it for you to take it off” you confessed, mesmerized by his hands undressing you before he placed you softly in your bed, earning a grin from him.

“Really? Well, you deserve a reward for thinking about me, honey”

Before you could ask, he was with his knees on the floor, ripping your panties to eat you out like he needed it to keep breathing.

It barely gave you time to let out a lewd moan that only encourage him more, putting your legs in his broad shoulders, nipping at your sensitive bud and teasing your entrance with his fingers.

It was real? It was the alcohol? You could think so if it wasn’t very improbable, your imagination couldn’t make this up, not something this good at least.

“Please” you begged and he shove one finger in you, then almost immediately another while licking you and going back to your clit, moaning at the taste of you, humping the mattress to get some relief, especially when you pulled at his short locks, making him groan.

“Bucky! Pleaseplease…” were the only words you could form but then he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue and you were gone, the orgasm hit you like a thousand waves and you could swear you fainted for a second, only coming back to yourself when you tasted your own arousal in his kiss.

Surprised to being this responsive with him, you kissed him back and he looked at you, fire blazing in his eyes.

“Come back to me, honey, we are just getting started” he promised against your lips and dear God, he was a man of his word. Hors later, the fireworks were loud enough outside but you both couldn’t care less, you finally have what you wanted: each other.

So this is my first time writing smut and I wanted to do it for New year's Eve, it was fun! Tell me what you think and happy new year!

Love, Lily.

[ryewwww]

Bully Gojo with NerdReader who has to tutor him?

-> the way people eat up bully!gojo, I’m here for it 🙂‍↕️

⚠️: NONCON, manipulative!gojo, mean!gojo, physical abuse, drugged!reader, bondage, dacryphilia, blood (gojo wants you to scratch him till he bleeds), unprotected sex

This is fucked, so read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

Satoru first laid eyes on you in the library

You were staring at your laptop, eyebrows scrunched, eyes switching between the screen and the paper in front of you

He’d seen you around before, despite the university being quite big

But hey, maybe that’s fate calling

Actually, fate was definitely calling, because when he walked into the math centre to get some help on his homework, he wasn’t expecting you to be there either

You sat alone, eyes glued to your iPad

It was unusual for Satoru to walk in a room and all eyes not being on him

So, he took the initiative and sat down next to you

Only then did you snap your head around, looking at him like, 'How dare you sit next to me?!'

But you didn’t say anything, just looked up at him one time before your gaze settled back on your work

He takes his stuff out, twirling his pencil between his long fingers

He easily peers over your head and sees that you’re working on the same homework assignment he has

Perfect

“Hey, are you in math 206 too?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How are you finding the assignment?”

“It’s a little hard… that’s why I’m here.”

The conversation was awkward, you were awkward, but Satoru was never one to back down from a challenge

Now he knew where you liked to hang out

Every day, he'd show up at the math help center, and you'd work through problems together

As time went by, you were beginning to let your guard down. Obviously, you were a bit skeptical of Satoru because I mean look at him. You didn’t want him to just use you for answers or as a free tutor because you let one too many people get away with using you.

You wanted to believe he was different. And it didn’t help that he was so so charming.

Finals were coming up fast, the math centre was closing so you and Satoru had to find a study spot.

It was getting late, the libraries were closing and you were having difficulties finding a nice place to study

Therefore, Satoru saw it as the perfect opportunity to reel you back to his place

“I don’t live too far from campus. You wanna go back to my place to study? We can get some pizza before going up.”

Satoru said it so casually, that you felt comfortable enough to accept his offer. Besides, he’s your friend right? You trust him.

He leads you back to his nice, sports car and drives back to his place. He had placed the order for the pizza online, so by the time you got there, it was done.

You knew Satoru was wealthy, just from the way he dressed. But you could have never imagined it to this extent. Because living in a penthouse in the heart of downtown, he had to be paying over 10k a month for this place.

The view was spectacular, the city lights sparkling everywhere you looked

Satoru knew his place carried a charm like him. Usually, a girl would forget about why they came over and pounce on him, no questions asked.

But you were a hard nut to crack

“You wanna see the view from the balcony?”

“Actually, can we go back to studying?”

You’re sitting at the table, Satoru close by watching you do another math question.

He notices the increase yawning so he asks, “you want some coffee?”

“Yeah. Some coffee would be great.” Your voice soft, laced with exhaustion

Now, Satoru didn’t want to resort to this, but fuck, his patience was running thin. Had it been another girl he would’ve bed them by now and they’d probably be on their way out.

But you either are a airhead, or you didn’t see him in that way. But either way, it’s unacceptable to him.

So, his mind goes back to a pill his best friend, Suguru gave him.

When you were focused, Satoru slipped away, retrieved the pill and roofied your coffee.

When you wake up, your head is pounding, arms restrained behind your back, legs tied apart.

You turn your head in a panic and see Satoru on top, holding you in place by the neck.

He smirks when he notices you’re awake

You try to move but you can’t so naturally, you begin to cry

He hushes you, hand pushing harder against your neck.

You whimper, your mind starting to focus on the pain penetrating your lower abdomen

You don’t know the time, don’t know how long this has been going on, or how you even got in this position

He restricted your movement, moving faster into you so all you could do is whine and squirm

“Finally awake, princess?” He grunted, dick still pounding into you

“Was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake.” And he laughs. He laughs like drugging and forcing himself onto you was funny.

He pulls out, undoing your restraints and flipping you onto your back. Your legs are resting on his shoulder and he’s pushing into you again

You wanted to fight back but your arms hurt from being restrained so tightly and for so long

The most you could do is claw at his back or chest but it didn’t bother him

No, instead he fucking loved it

“Yeah, baby. Gonna scratch me up? Good, make me bleed.”

In return, he starts nipping all over your neck, covering it with red and purple marks.

His hands dug into your thighs, pushing it back before cumming deep inside of you

You finish unwillingly around him with a sob.

He pulls out, harshly pushing you aside

You curl up, trying to soothe yourself from his brutality but Satoru couldn’t find a fuck in him to give

“Put your clothes on and get the fuck out of here.”

You don’t waste any time, crawling to the floor and putting your clothes on in a hurry.

Before you could escape out of there, Satoru got up, pulling you back by your hair.

A phone was shoved in your face and on it is a video of Satoru fucking you ruthlessly

The colour drains from your face

“You tell anyone about this, I will post this every fucking where, with your name plastered on it, do you understand?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He pulls your head harder, “I said, do you fucking understand me?”

“Y-yes. I-I won’t tell you anyone. Please, just let me go home.”

He lets go of your hair and you feel like you can finally breathe

You scurried off, thinking that this would be the end of it

But you couldn’t be more wrong

Here you go, I hope it wasn’t too dark. I won’t be writing a part 2 for this because it’s so similar to the other bully!gojo h.c I have.

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Hazbin Masterpost

Mimzy

Mimsy was an interesting one to work on. I wanted to make sure she looked inhuman like the other characters, but without making too big of a change. Canon Mimzy basically just has the black eyes and sharp teeth.

She's apparently loosely based off a chicken, which is why she has a hooked nose. But I knew pretty early on that I wanted to use peacock colors. It also helps increase the color variety of the cast by reducing the red.

More notes under the cut

Face: I gave her face markings that resemble running mascara, because I figured she wanted to be a showgirl or movie star or something. But she kept getting rejected, so she cried a lot. And apparently "mimsy" was a word coined by Lewis Carroll and is a blend of "miserable" and "flimsy".

She has vampire fangs for two reasons:

1. She leeches off others. Alastor was missing for 7 years, and the first thing she does is dump her problems on him.

2. In the 1920s, there was an equivalent to femme fetale called "Vamp". Vamps were more or less extra promiscuous versions of flappers.

Hair: An iconic 1920s hairstyle was finger waves. I made them a bit loose, because I didn't like how it looked plastered to her head.

I know she has a tattoo in the show, but I don't know how important it is for her to have it. So I just didn't bother with it. If it becomes significant, I'll add it back in.

Mimzy said that she and Alastor ran in the same circles while they were alive. He frequented the club that she sang at. But she also sounds like she's from New York, so I'm not sure how/why they ended up in the same place.

She died in the 1920s in her late 20s or early 30s. Not sure how she died.

1920s fashion--

I'll try to keep this brief. You know the stereotypical flapper dress? With the fringes? That wasn't really a thing. The style was slim, dropped waist, and no curves. The clothes weren't heavily tailored and just draped over the body like a potato sack. Fringes happened occasionally, but not often. More common was beading, pleats, tiers, and ruffles. The skirts were shorter than in previous generations, but they were still below the knee. Sometimes the stockings would be rolled down so the edge was visible--Scandalous!

While I appreciate the body diversity with Mimzy, she is honestly not an ideal choice to show off 1920s fashion. Plus sized women could utilize vertical lines to help create the illusion of thinness. So I changed canon Mimzy's film strip motif and made it vertical instead. Historically, the top would not be so form fitting, but I'm claiming that modern influences got to her a little bit. But in her human design, I'm claiming it's just stylized.

The stereotypical flapper dress better resembles showgirls and lingerie, imo. Not entirely sure what to think of that, but there it is.

Makeup--There are two makeup styles to go over. Regular and movies.

Regular is fairly straight forward. Pale skin. Black eyeshadow(or a color that matched the eyes). Thin, pencil-drawn eyebrows that look kinda sad. Lips with an emphasized cupid's bow. Rosy blush on the center of the cheeks.

Movie makeup: I went down a rabbit hole with this topic. It gets pretty interesting, but I am simplifying a lot. I also only know the basics.

The 20s was a transition period of the types of film used. There was the older orthochromatic/blue-sensitive film, which struggled to pick up warmer colors. Reds ended up darker than they really were, and tended to emphasize facial blemishes. This was counteracted by lighting and makeup. They used Arc lights, which gave off a blue-green light, were noisy, and hard on the actor's eyes.

The idea was basically to wash everything in blue light, to counter any reds present. Then they just had to worry about values. White or creme makeup was used to even out the skin tone (At least for white people, didn't find anything for other skin tones, but I imagine the basic idea would be similar). Then dark blues were used to contour the face, enhance definition/contrast, and mimic blush. Light blues would act as highlights. The lips would vary based on if you wanted a natural look or not. Greens and yellows could get a natural to dark lipstick appearance. If red was used, it could only get a dark lipstick look. Overall, the actors would have looked pretty weird.

If regular makeup colors were used, then everything would end up looking too dark.

Panchromatic film started becoming more widespread by the late 1920s. It had a wider range of sensitivity(but was still more blue sensitive than the human eye, which is more yellow sensitive. Reds were difficult for film even into the 21st century. That could lead me into a tangent about the Raimi Spiderman films, but I'll hold it in). They were able to switch to incandescent lighting, which were quieter(important for the rise of "talkies") and easier to maintain. The way makeup was previously used in movies was essentially invalidated.

(Below)I'm not sure what type of film the left side was designed for exactly, possibly panchromatic(because the green and purple is an interesting choice) or early color. But the right side is for blue-sensitive films.

I guess I bring this up because it's interesting, and helps me justify her blue-green color scheme.

I think that's everything relevant.

(Feb 17, 2025- moved the human Mimzy picture to be above the cut)

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Paper Thin Walls

Your neighbor, Nanami Kento, comes over four times complaining about noise. And then a fifth time. AO3

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ Only. fem! reader, grumpy! nanami, angsty, some light vouyerism, through the wall masturbation overhearing (does that count?), cunnalingus, riding, penetrative sex, reader has female anatomy, dirty talk, kissing, not explicit spit this time but i sneak it in there (and i always will), DIRTY, NASTY, WET,

Word count: 8.2k,we looooove a bad neighbors enemies to lovers, sorry y'all but i eat it up every time, i hope y'all do too. This is probably the grumpiest i have ever written Nanami but i hope the soft at the end gave you guys the sweetie that we all know and love, especially on this blog.

you can buy me a Ko.fi here, if you like!

THUNK THUNK THUNK 

You nearly dropped the bottle of wine you were uncorking when you heard the loud, impassioned knocking on your front door. Your friends quieted their conversation and looked to the door, a mixture of shock and confusion on their faces. 

How embarrassing. 

You rolled your eyes, already fed up with what you knew would be on the other side of the wood. You gesture to your friends to continue enjoying themselves as you would handle it. They tentatively turn back to one another huddled around your small coffee table dressed with snacks and cups. You had worked hard on this party, you didn’t get to see your friends very often so being able to enjoy a night together to relax and catch up was so valuable to you. And no dickhead neighbor with a stick up his ass was going to ruin it. Walking to the door you drew in a strained breath, trying to smooth your irritation, before unlocking, unlatching and just barely opening the door. Even just a crack was enough to see him seething in front of you. 

Kento Nanami, your neighbor. Your very irritable neighbor. The one man HOA of your apartment complex floor. Your neighbor who, since you moved in three months ago, has stopped by your apartment three times to badger you about your noise level. You had lived in apartments your whole adult life, not once has anyone complained about you, you were a MODEL neighbor: kind, social but not overbearing, always said hello in the hallway, happy to watch pets or plants while people were out of town, you are a goddamn delight as a neighbor.

It was this fucking guy who had the problem, huffing at your doorstep in his stupid little American girl doll glasses and overly neat button up shirt that he probably pressed every morning before getting dressed. 

And once again, here he stood, vein in his head pulsing against his skin, elevens creased in his forehead between his scowling eyebrows, jaw muscle looking on the verge of snapping.

“Ms—.” He started but you cut him off. 

“Good evening Mr. Nanami, to what do I owe the pleasure,” you smiled jovially, as though his presence wasn’t a nuisance, “this time.” 

“Good evening. Yes, it is the evening, isn’t it?” He made a little show of checking his bulky silver watch.

“I’m sure the very expensive looking watch on your arm could tell you that it’s 8:45 pm. A very normal time for people to be enjoying themselves, especially on a Friday night.” You leaned your head against the doorframe looking at him, “Having a little…movie night in?”

He stared at you a moment, his eyes moving over your face coldly, eyeing your sly smile, 

“so you know I’m here about the noise.” 

“You’ve never come to my apartment for another reason.” You sighed, “call it a hunch, I guess?” 

A laugh came from inside of your apartment, louder than the ambient music you were playing, not exactly helping your case. 

Nanami rolled his eyes at the laughing,“Quiet hours start at—“

“10. And I plan on honoring them, I just have some old friends over tonight. We’ll be sure to keep our joy and fun to an acceptable level.” You were feeding him the lines you knew he wanted to hear, but your performance wasn’t exactly impassioned. 

His jaw tightened again, you imagined the sound of his back teeth grinding together. He looked down at you silently and you stared right back up at him. A silent battle was had between your stares, him trying to intimidate you into the silence he craved, and you not backing down even an inch.

Finally he caved, “I would appreciate that. I am sure the rest of the hallway would as well. Good night.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.” You called down to him as he turned and stomped down the hallway to his own door. 

Right. Next. Door. 

You rejoined your friends and enjoyed the rest of your night exactly as you had before. Not turning any music down, not stifling any laughter, not dulling any conversation for the sake of thin walls. Every now and again you took a private moment to imagine your neighbor seething in his quiet, perfect little apartment all by himself.

“So….are we going to talk about how hot your neighbor is?” Soph, your best friend, posed. 

“Thank you for saying something. I barely saw him but oh my GOD.” Kat, your oldest friend added. 

You laughed, it was undeniable how handsome he was, when you first saw him as you settled in in your first week you secretly hoped he might stop by to introduce himself, entertaining the fantasy of him coming over to help you “fix something” a few too many times before even finding out his name.

“Sure he’s hot, when he keeps his mouth shut.” You sighed, annoyed, busying yourself refilling glasses, “What a waste, honestly. I’m tired of guys who think they’re too hot to be nice to people. Not even nice, just fucking polite is fine.” 

Your friends laughed. 

“When I moved in, a bunch of the other neighbors stopped by to say hello. Not him, I would only ever see him in the hallway and he wouldn’t wave, wouldn’t say hello, nothing. He’s so…..serious.” You sipped your drink remembering the times you had tried to say hello to him in the hallway only to be met with a half nod and a hurry into his apartment, “First time he ever even spoke to me was to tell me the sound of my moving in was too much.”

Soph pouted, sipping her refilled, “That’s a shame. I was going to say you should try and hit that.”

“Who knows,” Kat posed, “maybe getting laid would help him relax?” 

The three of you laughed, surely sending the noise through the wall and into the subject of debate’s apartment. 

This had been your fourth offense against him. Nanami was fed up, he had been polite the first few times, but this was getting out of hand. You had only moved in a few months ago, there was no excuse for him to have had to go over there this many times already. Sitting on his couch, drafting a complaint email to the main residential office, another roar of laughter rang from the back wall of his apartment. Nanami groaned and slumped against the back of the couch, rubbing his aching forehead. This much irritation can’t be good for him.

He had been spoiled by the place next to him having gone unoccupied for so long. He’s lived in this apartment for two years, going on a third, and nearly all of that time has been spent with no one next door. At first he assumed he was just sensitive and needed to acclimate to having someone nearby, but it was like you were broadcasting every sound directly into his living room.

The worst part was the bedroom walls. He deduced that the layout of your apartment must be a direct mirror of his own, inverted but identical, meaning the back wall of his bedroom must be the back wall of your bedroom as well. He could hear the noise from you sleeping with your television on, a terrible habit that he abhorred. He could hear the music you would play in the mornings when you were presumably getting ready for work. And for you to be so curt with him when he politely tries to let you know how easily he can hear you? It was unreasonable. 

The first time had been within the second week of you moving in. You were setting up some furniture, sounds of hammering, scooting, drilling ringing through the walls and keeping him from sleeping in on a SUNDAY morning. He had gotten up from bed, thrown on some more presentable loungewear and knocked on your door. That was the first time he had really seen you, kind eyes, pretty smile, smooth, even skin. You smiled up at him when you opened the door, all too awake for such early weekend hours. 

“Excuse me. My name is Nanami Kento, I live next door. Would you mind keeping the noise down a bit? It’s still pretty early.” 

Your smile sagged a bit, “sure! I’m sorry, I guess I’m getting used to how thin the walls are here. I’ll keep it down.” 

“Thank you.” He nodded, “and…welcome to the building.” 

“Thank you! It’s nice to meet you.” You had smiled back at him, small dimples appearing by your mouth. 

He could have fallen for you, allowed himself the rare indulgence of crushing on you. If that had been your only offense. 

The second incident was how he discovered that your bedrooms shared a wall. He had come home late from the gym. It was around two o'clock in the morning, he drug himself back home and into the shower, sleeping threatening to take him even under the heavy spray. Work had been about four hours too long, his head was aching, his workout had offered some relief but the only thing that would truly fix it at this point was the hard reset of sleep. Nanami pulled himself into bed, not even bothering to dress, choosing to ignore the remaining water that would sink into his sheets. That would be a problem for another day. Head on the pillow, cool bedding soothing his heated skin he could barely contain how excited he was to finally sleep, when he heard it. 

“o-oh….” 

It was so faint he assumed it was in his head, the product of an oncoming dream seeping over into his waking world. Ears tuning in against his will, he was able to hear the faint buzzing. He shot up, renewed energy brought about by the awareness of what was happening next door. You, his neighbor, were masturbating and he could hear you. He felt his ears get hot, his heart quicken, and --- oh christ his pants tighten. Soft moans sounding through the wall, quickening in pace, buzzing battering his brain to mush as he began to panic. He didn’t want to listen, it was wrong, this was wrong. Fuck, was his mouth watering? 

Fuck. fuck. Fuck!

He squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his pillow, clamping the cushion around his head over his ears in desperation. Nanami was relieved when your wimpers were snuffed out. Under the darkness of his pillow he hoped he could finally begin to fall asleep, but through the void an image began to appear behind his eyes. You, his pretty neighbor laying on your back, legs open, finger in your mouth trying to quiet yourself. How ineffective. You had been just the slightest bit sweaty when he first spoke to you. The act of dragging and pushing furniture having given your skin the slightest sheen. He was willing to bet that you had a similar glow about you now; working a toy between your legs, bed covers discarded at your ankles, a wet spot growing underneath your shaking hips---

FUCK.

Nanami sat up in a jerk, shaking his head side to side as though he could physically dislodge the picture out of his mind through one of his ears. With the pillow removed he could hear your moans rising in pitch, his dick pulsed. Fuck, this was so wrong. Were you about to climax? His heart was pounding, he was rock solid between his legs, he gripped the bed sheets tight to restrain himself from caving and pumping himself into oblivion with you. In the sickest part of his mind he wanted to press his ear up to the adjoining wall, listening to your languid moans, indulging himself fully in your passion. 

Finally, as though fate could feel his resolve starting to crumble, he heard a long high pitch whine escape through the drywall. Then silence. Then the sound of laughter from whatever tv show you put on to go to sleep. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, much as he imagined you were. He laid back against his pillow, staring up to the ceiling, mind reeling over the possibility of this happening again. How could he avoid this in the future? Should he politely inform you of the mirrored apartment layout and the thinness of the walls? 

Nanami purchased a white noise machine the following day. Only after stopping by your apartment and asking you to keep the television noise lower at night, saying he was a light sleeper. He hoped you would make the connection that he was struggling towards, voice clipped and cheeks blushing furiously as he nodded and retreated to his own domicile. He leaned up the door as he shut it behind himself, sighing in relief, praying that this would be the end of it and he could forget the saccharine sweet sound of your moans.  

The third incident was far less indecent, but no less annoying. He was home early from work, having taken off an hour or so before he usually would as he completed a big project that had taken over two weeks and was dead tired. All he wanted was to eat dinner, watch a movie, relax and push all the numbers and negotiations out of his head. Apparently you had the same idea. When you arrived home, he knew because your slamming door shook his wall as well. It had been a week or so since he last heard you but still the sound brought a crimson flush to his face. He didn’t hear much after that for about a half hour, that is, until you turned on your music. Loud, bossa nova or jazz or whatever it was sponging into the insulation between your two abodes and resounding around his own apartment. He couldn’t hear the movie he had put on, he couldn’t enjoy his dinner, hell— he could barely think. He had given you a pass when it was intimate noise but this was unruly and excessive. 

He stomped out into the hallway, the music echoing out there as well. And over to your door. He knocked, maybe a bit too hard, and waited for your arrival. When you did open the door, after just enough time for him to consider knocking again, he once again had to look down to meet your eye line. Music flooded out from the doorway, warm amber light, and the smell of sizzling peppers and oil wafting out, carried by the soundwaves. 

“Hello again, neighbor!” You greeted him, smiling warmly with big, full eyes. 

“The music.” He hadn’t meant to sound so stiff, he had intended to greet you politely and remind you of the wall's thinness but he had had it. Here you were enjoying your cooking and music and inhibiting his ability to do the same, it was unfair, unjust. 

You sighed leaning against the door frame huffing out, “We just can't seem to find a comfortable level, huh? You picked a good movie, very suspenseful soundtrack, one of my favorites actually.” 

Nanami straightened up like a shot, how could he have been so stupid? His television was right up against the “back” wall of his apartment, right against your kitchen wall. The sounds of his apartment, although infrequent, had echoed through your walls too. How many sounds, he wondered. 

“You--I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” He began but then hardened again, “You should have told me to turn it down, I would have been more than happy to oblige.” 

“Hm.” Your lips formed a tight line, “I’m not really into ordering strangers around in their own homes.” 

It was the first and only time you had sassed off to him. He was taken aback, he could feel his neck heating up under the collar of his shirt, his fists balling up at his sides as he furrows his brow at your disrespect. 

Scoffing, he finds the words, “just be courteous to your neighbors.” 

Nanami descends down the hallway, flexing and un-flexing his hands in measured attempts at cooling himself, before he could step into his apartment you called down after him. 

“The therapist was dead the whole time, that’s why his wife won't speak to him! The guy at the beginning shot and killed him!” You shouted and slammed the door behind you.  

It was an incredibly childish move on your part. If someone had done that to you, or if you had even heard of someone desecrating the ending of one of the best mystery thrillers of all time, you would have been furious. But something about this man brought out such pettiness in you. You couldn't help it. You half expected him to knock again and berate you for spoiling his night once again, but instead you heard the sound of his apartment door shutting and the movie resume. 

Credit for sticking it out and watching the movie anyway. You couldn't help but smirk a bit, impressed. 

It has enough legs to stand on its own even without the twist, it really is a good movie, you felt bad for wrecking it. It really was one of your favorites, similar tastes. Maybe this whole time you could have been friends. Although, you couldn't imagine being friends with someone so stuffy and entitled. It didn’t matter that he watched some of the same movies, so did lots of people. It didn’t matter that he was handsome and well dressed. It didn’t matter that when he played music in the mornings it overlapped with your favorite artists. He was an ass and never even bothered to introduce himself once before complaining about you. 

This back and forth had brought you all the way to tonight, him trying to reign in your party, stifling your enjoyment of it and making you hyper aware of every loud burst of laughter or adjustment of the volume. Despite your efforts to ignore it at this point, the desire to be a courteous neighbor occasionally won you over and you found yourself engaging in more subtle, intimate conversations, lowering the music and talking softer. 

When the party finally came to an end and your friends kissed you goodbye and left, giggling down the hall, you waved to them and watched as they slipped down the hallway. Your eyes fell on the neighboring apartment's door, you checked the time. It was just after ten, Nanami was probably asleep, snoozing soundly after having gotten his words in about your party and your carelessness. Feeling the bile of anger rising in your throat, you decided to turn back and retreat to your own apartment. The soft unlocking sound brought you back to the empty hall. 

Nanami stepped out, wearing a pair of expensive looking sweatpants and a dark grey sweatshirt. Even through such baggy clothing you could see his impeccable build, thick, ropey neck, broad shoulders, long, sturdy legs. His hair was down and unstyled, sandy stranded falling onto his forehead, some even extending far enough to brush against the bridge of his nose. A pair of headphones hung around his neck. He looked right back at you.  

“You’ve had headphones this whole time?” Was all you could think to say. 

“Everyone has headphones.” He shrugged leaning against his door frame. 

You wanted to think of something snappy to say back, but your tongue felt fat in your mouth. You had never seen him like this before, completely undone, hair mussed, body relaxed in place of his rigid posture, clearly exhausted enough that bothering you would be too much energy. 

“Your friends leave?” He asked, peeking down the hallway past you. 

“Mmhm. Right on time.” You pointed to your wrist where a watch would be.

To your surprise a low chuckle emanated from his chest. It was warm and hearty and genuine. The sound tugged at your stomach. No -- lower than that. Maybe it was the wine, or your friend's insistence on his beauty that made him have this effect on you suddenly. 

“Sounded like a good party.” His voice mimicked his earlier clipped irritation but it felt less authentic this time, as though he were playing a part. 

“It was.” You smile already nostalgic for the company of your friends, their warm energy, “You could come to the next one, you know. We don’t actually have to not like each other.”

Nanami’s head cocked to the side a bit, dark amber eyes crinkling in confusion, “I don’t not like you.” 

You almost laughed out loud, to think that he could pretend that this whole time he has just been being neighborly? 

“Right. Because badgering people every other week for three months over petty shit is something you do to people you like.” 

Nanami made a small clicking sound, “There’s just…Rules. It’s not personal, you’re just loud and other people live here. I don’t not like you!”

“I’m not loud!” You shouted, which did not help your argument, “You’re just uptight.” 

“I’m not uptight! There are rules, both in this apartment and just socially! Who blasts music at eight am on a sunday?” Nanami stepped closer to you, almost at the midway point between your apartment doors. 

“Who goes to the gym and comes back slamming doors at two in the morning? You don’t hear me complaining about that, even though it happens every night.” You matched his advance, standing at the equivalent point to wear your living room wall would meet his inside of your apartment, “Some people are trying to sleep.” 

Nanami couldn’t stop the words before they spilled out, he leaned his head down to you venomously, “Doesn’t sound like a lot of sleeping to me.” 

Your eyes flew open, your chest caved and your throat knotted. You searched desperately for another meaning, scrambling your brain for recent late night annoyances he could be referring to, but you knew. And he knew too. Shames burned your cheeks, you felt so exposed. 

“You’ve been listening to me?” You gasped, “What are you, some kind of pervert?”

“Pervert?” Nanami gaped at you, “Our bedrooms share a wall, I’m not staying up late to listen to your little audio drama. You're whimpering practically loud enough for everyone on the street to hear.”

You flushed deeper, cheeks practically on fire, “y-you should have said something.” 

Nanami sighed, “I’ve been trying!” 

You started to put things together. His flushed, nervous expression whenever you ran into each other in the mail room or the hallway. The increasingly sterile way he spoke to you about the noise. This whole time he had heard you…intimately…and tried to tell you as discreetly as he could. A bit too discreetly. 

You buried your face in your hands, “Fuck. I’m so embarrassed.” 

Nanami’s gut twisted at your distress. This was the exact situation he wanted to avoid, he didn’t want to embarrass you, he didn’t even want to tell you if he didn’t have to. For the first time in this whole mess, he touched you. He reached out and gripped your shoulder lightly. The heat of his palm warmed your clammy, shame soaked skin. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s…personal and I understand that, but it’s not anything to be embarrassed about.” He attempted to soothe you, his thumb experimenting with small strokes. 

You looked up at him, swallowing down the lump in your throat, “I never hear you…do that. You probably think I'm some weird sex freak.” 

A soft rosy blush came over his nose and cheeks. 

He decided to try and level the vulnerability, “I-uh…usually…do that… in the shower.” 

Suddenly his hand on your shoulder felt hot and heavy, he wasn't sure if he should remove it or if that would send the wrong message. What message was he hoping to send? This had suddenly become loaded and confusing. 

You nodded in response, feeling a bit better now that he had exposed part of himself to you. You couldn't keep your mind from picturing him  breathing hard in a steam filled shower, his head falling back in pleasure, hand running down his body to pump his-----

Fuck!

“I don’t think you’re a weird sex freak.” Nanami offered. 

“Thanks.” You let out a small laugh.

You looked up at him, catching his teak wood eyes. Long, dark lashes encircled them, a light dusting of freckles resting atop his chiseled cheekbones. Shapely, rose hued lips were parted slightly as he looked down at you. The air between the two of you became thick and sticky. He was curved over you slightly, maybe even subconsciously. 

“Can I ask you something?” He whispered, just barely loud enough to hear. 

“About…that?” 

He nodded. 

You nodded. 

Nanami swallowed, eyes scanning over your lips, “I haven’t…heard anyone else…with you.”

You waited a moment, “That isn’t a question.” 

“You sound, sometimes, like you might…want some help.” Nanami leaned in closer, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, “Do you?”

Your breath left you, your voice had long abandoned you, you could only try desperately to parse out how you had gotten here. He waited patiently for an answer, suddenly suave and confident. He had always been self assured, you just assumed it was arrogant entitlement. It never occurred to you that he could be so charming, so flirtatious. He knew what he was offering, you knew what this would mean. The instances of rigidity morphed in your memory into a heated chase, reaching its end here and now. You had been caught. 

Finally, you nodded your head, “Yes.” 

He closed the distance between you, pressing his hot lips to yours in an instant. The hand from your shoulder moved to the back of your neck, pulling your chest against his, as the other arms snaked around your waist. After the initial moment of shock, you moved your arms around him to grip his rippling back. The first kiss is long, passionate and deep, his arms feel so strong around you, you can feel the curves and cuts of muscles that you hadn't even considered. He pulls away only for a second to move his head to the side and realign himself to give you a hot, fevered open mouthed kiss, sliding his tongue between your lips and massaging it against yours. You felt dizzy, gripping him tighter, for stability of course, you move your hands up his back and brush your fingers against the cropped undercut at the nape of his neck. He let out a low moan, almost like a purr, into your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile a bit, testing it again and pulling another throaty sound from him. You pulled your lips away momentarily. 

“I see why you need the shower.” You tease.

He nods against your forehead, catching his breath. You capture him in another kiss, leading him clumsily back to your apartment door, struggling with the knob a bit before he reaches around your hip to turn it for you and push inside, using his foot to swing the door shut behind him. Leaning back against your front door, he pulls you close to him once again, holding your body close to his, feeling the heat and weight of you in his arms. The way your apartment smells, like food and candles, earthy scented; sandalwood, laurel, magnolia. The dim, warm secondary lighting. He absorbs it all. It's so, you. 

Your tongue is moving against his now, and he finds himself being kissed as much as he is kissing. He likes how active it is, no part of you feels not focused on him at this moment and he's so grateful. You lead him back to your bedroom, exactly where his own would be on the other side. He lets his hand travel down your back, feeling down to your waist and over your hips, experimentally gripping the flesh there. Fuck, when you werent annoying the life force out of him, you were so gorgeous. A beautiful, full, woman’s body, confident movements, alluring in every sense of the word. Your bedroom was the same as his, no shock there, still just slightly too small to comfortably house a king bed, which he cursed himself for squeezing in. You had a queen, a perfect size, the window on the side wall had sheer cream colored curtains allowing moonlight to coat the room in a magic, blue glow. You had pulled away from him, doing some light mood setting, lighting a bedside candle, brushing discarded clothes and a book from your bed. He recognized the cover of your book, he had read it too last year. 

“She dumps the creepy coworker guy and goes back to working at another store. It’s incredibly cathartic. A shame you’ll miss out on it.” He runs his spine down the copy of your book on your bed, lifting it and flipping through a few pages, a devious smile itching the corners of his lips. 

You look at him, eyebrows raised in alarm. 

Nanami shrugged, “you ruined my movie. I ruin your book’s ending. Good read though.” 

To his surprise, you laughed through a wide smile, “It is a good read, especially the second time.” 

He laughed and shook his head. It was maybe the first time you had seen him actually smile, warm and easy. The just starting lines on his face extending around his mouth in little arches. He really was radiant, sharp features highlighted by the dream like light of the bedroom, blues and amber licking shadows over his face as the firelight moves. The laughter fades and you both look into one another. He looks over your features, lips swollen from his kiss, your eyes meeting his in a trusting, conspiratorial gaze. He feels his lips twitch again into a smile, and steps towards you. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He cups your face, tenderly, his other hand circling your waist as he brings you to his lips. 

The kiss has morphed into something deeper, kinder, less fevered, more focused and somehow even more passionate. When his tongue enters your mouth its not pushed or pressed, it slides languidly and easily against your own. As a polyglot’s tongue drips words, his drips kisses, sensuality. Your hands find the hem of his sweatshirt, slipping underneath, feeling the hardness of toned muscle and bone underneath. You did hear him return from the gym at god awful hours, it makes sense that he has something to show for it. Nanami hisses as you slide your hands around his hips to his back, moving up further, feeling every valley and peak of his hard work. Spurred by your action, he mirrors you, moving his hand under your shirt. Instead of following your lead, he opts to go for the front, gliding his hand up your abdomen and cupping your breast in his hand over your bra. He gives it a small squeeze, making you squeak. Another throaty hum comes from his chest. 

He guides you with his hips, not breaking the kiss just yet to seat you on the bed, with him stood between your legs. Encouraged by your pawing at his torso, he breaks from your lips to remove his sweatshirt, revealing rows of carefully built abdominal muscles, as you had felt already. What you didn't expect was the melange of scars in various stages of healing across his chest, stomach, and shoulders. Some white and flat against the surface, some pink and recessed still healing themselves. You couldn't help the small gasp you sucked in at the sight. 

What the hell happened to him? Or was it still happening to him?

“It's just skin, grows right back after enough time.” Nanami looked down at himself, following your eyeline across his body. 

You sat up further, carefully moving your hand over his toned stomach, across a particularly large, although healed line on his side. 

“Seriously, it’s--” Nanami started but you cut him off by removing your own shirt, pointing to a scar on the lower right side of your stomach, above your hip bone. 

“Appendectomy.” You smile at him wickedly, “You’re not so tough.”  

Nanami can’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes and climbing over you onto the bed. 

“I didn’t realize I was in the bed of such a badass.” one of his big hands moves over your barely scarred hip, then up your side. 

You moan and arch up at his touch trying to control your shaking breath, “m-mhm, I’m very b-bad a-a…”

Another moan consumes your sentence as he kisses the side of your neck. Taking his time to suck and lick at the soft skin from your shoulder to behind your ear. You make no effort to hide how good it makes you feel, squeezing his large, tight bicep and rocking against him, head lolling to the side. 

“That’s right, you are very bad.” Nanami bites lightly at your jugular point. 

You whimper against him, his teeth on your neck setting your body ablaze. You nod. 

“You’ve been such a bad girl, whimpering just like that all night while i'm trying to sleep. Pretending you don’t know I can hear you.” The dirty words drip off of him like honey directly into your waiting mouth. 

He has moved to hover completely over you, one hand on your thigh, pulling it around his hip, leaning on the other crooked near your head. You can feel his hips against yours, even through his pants you can feel how hard he has become. He can certainly feel how hot and wet you are becoming, you pray that your panties and pants are helping you maintain some kind of decency. That prayer goes unanswered as Nanami moves his hand from your thigh to between your hot writhing bodies, cupping your sex. 

“Is this what you need, baby? You need someone to help you feel good?” He whispers into your ear, one finger starting to move up and down your clothed slit. 

You nod before you can speak. 

“Ask me. Ask for my help, baby.” He grunts against you, you can no longer feel his erection pressed against you, but you can hear his voice becoming strained and rougher, indicating his own resolve has wavered as much as yours has. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him back to your lips and plead into a kiss. 

“Please, please Nanami, please help me.” The kiss is sloppy and wet, saliva and sweat spilling between desperate lips. 

“Kento, please. When I’m fucking you, please use my first name.” He snakes an arm between your body and the mattress and removes your bra, moving down your body with hot, wet kisses. 

You arch up again, the eroticism of being undressed by him titillating your sense beyond your imagination. He latches onto one of your hard nipples, swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh, dark eyes watching closely for your reactions. 

“Kento…oh Kento.” You try the name out, it fits perfectly in your mouth, tastes like honey when you speak it.

It was like he was studying you, gauging reactions and preferences in fractions of a second that other partners had been too hurried to discover. You returned your hands to his hair, threading your fingers and his blonde strands together. He bit and sucked and kissed and lapped at your breasts, giving each one equal, focused attention, squeezing them together and separately like he could never get enough. Finally he detached, a string of saliva connecting him to your skin. His eyes flicked up at you, catching his breath and moving down your body further, his hands moving over the waistband of your pants. Your breath hitched up in anticipation, your bottom lip clamped between your teeth. He met your eyes and searched for any sign of hesitation, if he were to allow his mind to process what was happening he might have stopped himself, citing how messy it could be to be involved in a sexual tet-a-tet with his next door neighbor, perhaps you were doing exactly that. 

But you moved your hand over the side of his face, brushing a few strands of hair off his forehead, smiling sweetly. 

“Please Kento…I need your help,” your voice was so sweet and so soft as you pleaded with him, “....please.” 

He kisses underneath your navel and slides your pants off of your legs, discarding them onto your bedroom floor. He took the moment of readjustment to remove his own pants, leaving both of you in only your underwear. He moved back in between your legs, he could practically see through your flimsy white panties, wetness having made the fabric dark and molded to your skin. He could see the curve of your labia, where they separated, the inner folds hidden but begging for him. Wetness has spread to your thighs, making your skin glisten and sparkle. He looped his thumbs into the band of your panties and slipped them off, joining the mess of clothes already on the floor. Now bare before him, he could feel himself drooling at the sight of you spread out on your bed. Just as he had imagined you, no. No, much better than he could have imagined. Soft, full body, marks blooming on your skin from his kiss, chest heaving and jiggling in turn as you pant for him. Between your legs a perfect oasis of petals waiting for him to part and indulge himself. 

“...stop staring..” Your cheeks burned as he sat back taking you in. 

Nanami leaned down, lips nearly brushing your mound, “I’m admiring.”

You open your mouth to say something sassy but he licks up your slit, silencing you. He smiles a cocky smile at you and does it again, this time taking even more time to reach the top. 

He’s fucked. He knows it from the first taste. He has always had a proclivity and a preference for eating pussy, enjoyed and indulged in the tastes of many women, but none like this. None that have brought him into a haze with a single taste. He dives further, separating your outer lips with two v-ed fingers, showing him the pearl of your clit and your drooling hole. He experiments with pushing his tongue into you, hearing and gauging your moans. It feels good, so good, but he knows he can do more. Feeding his tongue into you once more before he flattens it against you and laps up to your clit again and again. Your hips buck up at that, one of his big hands presses down on your stomach, keeping you in place. He swirls his devil’s tongue around your clit again and again in an agonizing whirlpool before sucking hard at the swollen bud. You can't contain the cries and whimpers spilling from you, you try to move against his hand, you try to pull at his hair to detach him from you, offering you a moment to catch your breath but he doesn't move an inch. He’s a messy eater, chin and nose dripping just as much as his mouth. He’s a loud eater too, moaning at your taste, at the sound of you writhing for him, grunting as his hips rut against your mattress unwittingly. 

“K-kento, I--I think I…” You struggle to string together cohesive words but the fevered lapping between your legs keeps you stammering. 

“Go ahead, baby. Cum on my tongue.” Nanami’s voice was low and gravely, full of need and desperation of his own. 

But this was different, there was a tightness in your abdomen that was unfamiliar, you were confused and panting, worried that something else may happen. 

“W-wait, I--” You tried to move yourself onto your elbows just as Nanami pressed further down on your stomach. 

Before you knew it you were cumming, squirting into his mouth, onto your sheets. You cried out in one long pleasure filled scream, partially his name, partially just exaltation. Nanami drinks from you like a holy well, reverent and indulgent all at once. As though he may never taste you again. FInally he lets you push him off of your twitching sex. His face is soaked, he licks his lips, fingers too, anything that may carry some of your release. You watch him with hazy, drunken eyes. Sat back on his heels, coming out of his own cloud of pleasure, he watches you come back to your body. You look beautiful, panting on your back for him. He leans over you again and kisses your lips softly, then deeper, and deeper still. His tongue tastes like you, your hands are quick to pull his hips to yours. 

“Think you can go again?” Kento huffs out as your grind against his clothed crotch, he can feel the wetness of your climax seeping into his boxers, commingling with his own leaking anticipation. 

“I need it. Please fuck me, Kento.” You have no room for coyness or pride anymore, you have only room for him. 

He nods, burying his head in your neck and removing his boxers with your frantic help. You feel his hard length freed against your thigh. He’s bigger than you imagined, thick and leaking already. You wanted to taste the beading precum, feel the heat and weight of him in your mouth, but you would have to find another time because Nanami was just as desperate to be inside of you as you were to be filled by him. He lined himself up with your begging hole, not yet pushing inside. He looks into your eyes before kissing you, hard and deep, no barriers, no holding back, as he pushes into you. He’s thicker than you even thought, the stretch burning as you arch up into him, whimpering. 

“Take it all baby. I know, I know, just a bit more. You can take it.” He soothes against your lips, thrusting further.

You let out a small, cracked cry as he continues, pressing kisses to your neck. You rake your nails across his hip, desperate for something to cling to. You’re grateful for your surprisingly wet climax earlier, the lubrication helping to ease the insertion. When he finally bottoms out, and you feel his hips flush against yours, he stills. His tip is kissing your cervix, he's trembling above you as he too struggles to adjust to the tight fit. 

“You feel so fucking good, you’re so tight, so fucking wet for me.” He mutters against your neck, your jaw, anywhere he can find to kiss. 

“Fuuuuuuck, Kento.” Your pain finally gives way to pleasure. 

Just in time for him to pull his hips back slightly and thrust into you further. Both of you moan into the silence of the bedroom, as he repeats this over and over. Setting a medium pace of intense thrusts deep inside of you. You're squeezing him tighter and tighter. 

“Please baby, relax a bit. I can’t move much more.” Nanami begs, moving one hand to your clit and circling it gently, attempting to extend your pleasure. 

You try to obey, taking a deep breath and allowing him to make you feel good, as he promised. You release some tension and find his pace more languid and fluid, assisted by his careful thumbing of your clit. Your hands move up and grip the pillow behind you as he increases his pace, pumping into you faster and faster by just a deep. A dance begins with your two bodies, moving in sync, maximizing the joint pleasure. 

“Fuck! Ah, baby. Yes!”

“Oh! Kento, Kento! Yes!! Right there, fuck!”

“There? You like that? Of course you do, bad girl”

“Uh huh, Fuck me like a bad girl, Kento! Fuck” 

Cries of pleasure fill the room, Kento luxuriates in the fact that his own bedroom, sitting empty, is just on the other side of the wall, where the headboard is smacking rhythmically. He brings you to another mind melting orgasm with his thumb and cock working in tandem. You whimper out praises of his skill, his size, his words, Him. Once you have caught yourself again from the freefall of climax, you sit up, pushing on his shoulders. He's too big of a man for you to really push, but he sees your desire and rolls the pair of you so that he is now on his back. Your thighs ache already from being spread so long, but not to be out fucked you hitch your hips up and down his length as fast and accurately as you can. His hands settle on your hips, squeezing bruises into the supple flesh. 

“Fuck baby.” His jaw hangs open as he watches you bounce and grind on him. 

Emboldened by the blush settling on his face, you take one of his large, calloused hands from your hip and slide it up your body and to your mouth, where you suck two of his fingers into your mouth. He shudders and a dangerously loud moan spills from his lips. You swirl your tongue around his thick fingers, tasting remnants of your climaxes, tasting his heated skin. Your hips never stop, riding him and sucking his fingers. You see him sweating beneath you, eyes rolling back, mouth agape, tongue threatening to flop out. The hand on your hip squeezes and pushes you down further on him. 

“Baby I-- Fuck!” Nananmi hoped he would catch it in time but you surprised him and he couldn’t contain himself in time. 

He holds you down on his pelvis as his cock twitches inside of you releasing a heavy load of white into you. You both let out long, whining moans as he fucks up into you desperately. After his long release has completed, Nanami pulls his fingers from your lips and pulls you down to kiss him, whimpering as your shifting squeezes his overstimulated cock. The kiss is sticky with cum and sweat and spit, and delicious all the same. The combined flavors of your endeavor sweeter than any wine, better than any meal you could have shared over a candle lit dinner. Nanami licks into your mouth, holding you flush against his chest as his cock begins to soften inside of you. You pull away enough to look at him, foreheads still pressed together. You smile, and he smiles back, so warm and relaxed. He takes in a breath to speak 

THUNK THUNK THUNK……….THUNK THUNK THUNK 

You two look at one another. The confusion apparent on both of your faces as the knocking continues. You pull off of him, already mourning the feeling of his cock no longer inside of you. Nanami is ready to kill whoever is on the other side of the door for pulling him away from your tight, wet heat. You wrap yourself in your bathrobe, and Kento pulls on his sweatpants. You both exit your bedroom, although you want to assure Nanami he doesn't have to come with you, it feels comforting to have him there when answering the door at night. If he weren't in the room with you, you would have assumed it was him at the door, but since it can’t be you are lost for who could be knocking so late. 

THUNK THUNK THUNK

You open the door to find Mrs. Sonomura, your neighbor across the hall. You often watched her collection of houseplants when she went out of town to visit her daughter. Her cheeks were dark pink and she was wearing her housecoat. You pulled the top of your robe tighter over your chest, praying your hair which you had not thought to fix wasn't too obvious.  

“Good Evening, Mrs. Sonomura. W-what can I do for you?”

She took you in and flushed even deeper, “I-I heard shouting and I…well..”

You were mortified, knowing that any respect this woman had for you must have completely dissolved. Before she, or you, could speak, you felt a heavy hand clap over your shoulder and Nanami’s body came behind yours. He had donned his sweatshirt quickly at the sight of Mrs. Sonomura. 

“My apologies, Mrs. Sonomure. I came over to complain about how loud her party had been tonight and I suppose things got a bit heated. I apologize for the yelling, we’re trying to find a way to be more….neighborly.” He looked straight at Mrs. Sonomura, smiling a charming smile, all while squeezing your shoulder. 

Mrs. Sonomura nodded hurriedly, seemingly happy to take such an obvious lie in place of the uncomfortable truth. 

“Well, I trust the two of you can work it out with the front office. Please keep it down after quiet hours.”

You nodded, “So sorry, Mrs. Sonomura. It won't happen again, Goodnight.”

You waved and watched her enter her apartment before shutting the door to your own. Nanami cocked his head down at you. 

“Won't happen again, huh?” He teased. 

“Oh shut up. We should be careful letting our ‘arguments’ get too loud again.” you sighed out, just relieved to have avoided the complete mortification of your kind, older neighbor thinking you're a slut, “Those walls really are thin.” 

Nanami wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in to kiss the top of your head. You hugged him, pressing your face into his chest. 

“You should probably spend the night.” You turned your face to the side, pressing your cheek against him as you spoke, “I’d hate for something to happen to you taking the train this late.”

Nanami laughed, you could hear it resonate from his chest, “That’s a good point. I’d hate to walk home in this weather.” 

The pair of you smiled before you led him back into your bedroom to sleep. 

OKAY YALL: I really hope you guys enjoyed this one, its been bouncing around in my head for a while and im so pleased with how it came out. Bonus Points if you know what movie//book got spoiled. Anyway, love you guys, and always i would love to know what you thought or if you have any ideas of your own! XX- Doodle.