#will have to find a good place to print but i HAVE learned how to hand make them

[dragqueenpentheus]

MY BUSINESS CARDS ARE HERE

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for wring amputees: its ok if your amputee can't repair their own prosthetics

There's a trope in fiction for amputees to always be these mechanical geniuses who can make and repair their own prosthetics, endlessly tinkering away and improving them. This isn't a particularly trope, and i dont think its harmful or anything, but in reality, prosthetics are REALLY, REALLY complicated, and a lot of amputees cant do their own repairs. And thats ok. Like, prosthetic creation and repair is way, way harder than I think people expect. Well outside the skillset of your standard mechanic, handy man or craftsperson.

People who make and repair prosthetics are called prosthetists. To become a prosthetist, most countries around the world today require you to have completed a bachelor's degree in specifically in prosthetics and orthotics, which covers not only how to make a prosthetics (and orthodics) but a great deal of medical knowledge, physics, how different forces impact "non-standard" bodies, the additional biological wear-and-tear that comes with being an amputee and so much more. This will qualify you to do the job of fitting/making the prosthetic socket (the part that attaches to your body) and putting premade components together to make a functioning device. On top of this, many prosthetists are also expected to have artistic skills, sewing skills, good physical strength and dexterity, IT skills, and more recently, knowledge of 3D modelling and printing.

You want to make all the high-tech components the prosthetists put together to make the full prosthetic? The requirements for that vary country to country, but most will require at least some level study in the field of engineering and/or medicine, on top of what was already required for the prosthetics course.

The reason for all this is because even "basic" prosthetics are extremely finicky, and messing up one thing will have a domino effect on the rest of the body, especially in more complicated prosthetics. It can also result in people getting severally injured if anything is even slightly off. many leg amputees for example end up with spinal issues due to extremely minor issues with their prosthetic that weren't caught until years later, and by then the damage had been done.

Some amputees do learn to do basic repairs. This is most common in places like the US, where a visit to the prosthetist can cost hundred to thousands of dollars (depending on your insurance), but it's also quite common in rural parts of countries like Australia, where cost isn't an issue but access is due to vast distances between major cities. I was personally in this category; as a kid, my nearest prosthetist was 6 hours away. My prosthetist was able to teach my dad, who later taught me, how to do some of the simple repairs, but we still needed to go in every few weeks for the more complex stuff (Kids prosthetic need more adjusting than adults because they're still growing. Also I was rough on my prosthetics and broke them a lot lol).

But even after being taught how to do repairs and having my prosthetics for 20+ years, I only ever did these sorts of repairs to my below-knee prosthetic. I will not do any repairs of any kind to my above knee leg, which is much more technologically complex. Every time I tried, I made it worse to the point where the leg was unusable. I just leave those repairs to the guy who went to university to learn how to do it, and sometimes even he needs to send it off to someone with even more specialist knowledge when it's really badly messed up lol. Last time that happened Australia post lost the package. Not really relevant to this post, I just find the idea of it being sent to the wrong place by accident hilarious, it was one of my more realistic legs too so someone probably had a heart attack when they opened that package lmao.

Anyway, back on track lol.

This isn't even touching on the fact that on some more advanced prosthetics, many features are actually locked behind a security barrier only prosthetists can access. My prosthetic knee has an app on my phone I can pair it to, that allows me to change certain settings and swap between certain modes for different activities that tell the leg to change its behaviour depending on what I'm doing (e.g. a mode for running, a mode for cycling etc). but most of the more in-depth settings I can't access, only my prosthetist can, and he can only gain access to those settings with a security key given to him by the manufacturing company that requires him to provide proof of his credentials to receive it. I don't really agree with this btw, something about being locked out of my own leg's settings makes me feel a bit of an ick, but it's set up like this because people used to be able to access these settings and they would mess with things to the point their leg was virtually unusable. Because altering one setting had a domino effect on all the others, and a lot of folks weren't really paying attention to what they were messing with, all their prosthetists could do was factory reset the whole leg, which causes some issues too. Prosthetic arms are often similarly complex, as I understand it and have similar security barriers in place for more advanced arms. I don't know for sure though, so take that with a grain of salt.

All this to say these are incredibly delicate, finicky and complex pieces of equipment. There's nothing wrong with having a techy amputee character who can do their own repairs, but in reality, that is pretty rare, and its ok to have your character need to see a prosthetist or someone more knowledgeable than them. It's a part of the amputee experience I don't see reflected very often in media. In fact, the only examples I can think of in fiction (meaning not stories based on real people) where this is reflected are Full metal alchemist.

technically I think Subnautica Below Zero also mentions prosthetists are a thing in that world, but its a very "blink and you'll miss it" kind of thing...in fact I did miss it until my last playthrough lol.

[daisynik7]

I could even learn how to love like you

There’s a certain type of peace you find in the mundanity of the typical morning commute. The soothing whirring of the railway, the chill of metal against your fingers wrapped around the handholds, even the odd comfort of being surrounded by strangers who are equally as half asleep as you are, willing to shuffle the slightest bit to make room for new passengers. Sure, it’s a nuisance for the most part, but it’s your tiny pocket of harmony before the usually stressful workday. A routine you’ve grown accustomed to, something you can rely on to stay the same in this ever-changing society. 

Change is never a bad thing, though. And sometimes, it takes a stranger on the train to show you that.

He immediately captures your attention the first time you see him. Tan business suit, straight posture, hair neatly parted, stoic expression etched on his face. The typical salary man heading to his office job in the city. While his stature is most-impressive, it’s his tie that piques your interest, a spotted pattern akin to leopard print. A splash of pizzazz on an otherwise ordinary outfit. 

He maneuvers his way to you, wrapping his fist around the same pole you’re holding, his grip a safe distance above yours. He glances at you through his spectacles, giving you a short nod to acknowledge you. You return this with a small smile, and when you notice he doesn’t have any headphones in, you say, “I like your tie.” You normally wouldn’t speak to anyone here, most people too immersed in their preferred choice of media, like music or the news. Something tells you that straying from your usual habits might be good for you today.

The second of silence where he’s processing what you said scares you; maybe you’ve become a bother for him in this already troublesome commute. Then, he clears his throat, his gaze flickering at you for the briefest moment before it focuses on the floor. “Thank you.”

The conversation ends there. In fact, that’s your entire interaction throughout the remainder of the journey. Your station arrives before his and you leave without another word. It’s neither awkward nor extraordinary. Still, the moment doesn’t stop replaying in your memory the rest of the day. You wonder if you’ll get a chance to see him on the way home, knowing the chances are slim. Schedules vary, there are many different sections of the train. The stars would have to align just right for you to be reunited with this stranger. Despite the improbability of it all, you allow yourself to be hopeful. The little taste of excitement this morning has you craving more. 

~~~

Two days pass until Nanami meets you again. Maybe he does it subconsciously, maybe it’s intentional, but he finds himself gravitating towards you. When he places his hand above yours on the pole, in similar fashion to the last time, he gives his usual nod, unsure if you recognize him.

You beam at him. “Good morning!”

He doesn’t say anything else; he’d only be pestering you with trivial conversation. Though he can’t help watching from his peripheral as you scroll through pictures of delicious food on your phone. He notices you screenshot the ones that include recipes in the description, causing him to grin to himself at how he does the same. The urge to comment is in the back of his throat, the tip of his tongue. Getting it out proves to be difficult, and he knows why. Nanami made a vow to himself ever since he returned to being a Jujutsu Sorcerer: don’t fall in love. He’s completely aware of how dangerous his job is, how his life is at risk every single mission he’s sent on. It’s what he signed up for, the life he’s currently committed to. There’s no room for attachment, for love. It's easier for him to avoid it altogether, even if it means swallowing down a simple hello on the train. It’s better this way. And quite frankly, he isn’t sure if he’s even capable of loving the way others do. His heart has become so callous throughout the years that there’s no chance at it ever softening, he’s sure of it. Perhaps the flutter in his chest at the smile you flash him is a coincidence, nothing more. 

This theory is soon debunked. 

Nanami is especially tired after today’s mission. Heading home, he manages to secure a row of empty seats and plops himself down, resting his head back, sighing. He closes his eyes, listening to the usual hustle and bustle of rush hour, resisting every temptation to fall asleep. Missing his stop would put a damper on his already foul mood. 

Eventually, the automated voice announces your stop. For whatever reason, he made it a point to remember it when you hopped off this morning, just two away from his. When he feels someone sit beside him, he peeks with one eye open, curious. 

“Hi.” You smile softly at him, eyes crinkling with genuine kindness. “It’s you.”

While Nanami is guarded and closed off from people outside his intimate circle, he’s never rude. He has no other choice but to respond to you, ignoring the obvious thump in his chest at your endearing greeting. “Hello.” He tries his best to convince himself that this unfamiliar flutter surrounding him is some sort of medical condition that needs proper diagnosis and not affection towards a beautiful stranger on the train. Stiffening in his seat, he pretends not to be intrigued by the food magazine you start flipping through, secretly studying the way you fold the corners of all the recipes you want to save for later. 

Halfway into the ride, he actually does fall asleep, only rousing awake when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he catches you staring at him guiltily. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I think your stop is coming next and I didn’t want you to miss it.”

He sits up straight, readjusting his tie, clearing his throat before he replies, “Thank you.” Sure enough, the automated voice from the speaker announces that they’ll be approaching his stop next. Slightly disoriented from his nap, he stands up, grasping the nearest handhold tight. His mind is racing, body itching to say something more, say anything more. Before he can, the train comes to a halt. The doors open and without another glance, he’s gone. 

Nanami spends the entire fifteen minutes of his walk home attempting to quell the stir of emotions inside him, from guilt to giddiness, all over the simple fact that you’ve memorized his stop. That you’re paying attention to him just as he is with you. 

~~~

This time, he’s the first to greet you, offering a polite nod before he grabs onto the same pole that you’re occupying. “Good morning.”

You’ve been boarding this particular section ever since you started seeing him, hoping he’d do the same. “Hello, stranger,” you respond with a grin, unable to contain your happiness.

He holds his other hand out to you. “Nanami. Nanami Kento.”

You state your name in similar fashion, shaking his hand. His skin is rough against yours, though his grip is gentle. You let go of him, dropping your arm to your side, fingers tingling. “I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I guess not,” he says with a small smile. And it’s enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Conversation is easy with him. He mentions the magazine you were reading the other day, expressing his mutual interest in food. From there, the two of you talk about your favorite restaurants and eateries around the area, giving your best recommendations. Because of all the ambient noise, you lean in close to one another to hear each other properly. The gap between your hands on the pole is shorter by the time your stop approaches. You’re prepared to bid him a reluctant farewell, so it surprises you when he follows you off. “Is this your stop too?” you ask him, though you already know it isn’t. 

He shakes his head, fixing his tie idly. “My office is fifteen minutes from here. I want to get a quick walk in before I start work.”

“Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to spend more time with me?” you tease him, smirking.

He gazes into your eyes. “Maybe it’s that too.”

This is the start of a new and exciting routine for you, one that involves Nanami. You’ll spend the morning together, talking to each other in the middle of the crowded train. Then, he’ll walk you to your office building, where he leaves you with a cordial bow. You’re reunited during rush hour, sitting next to each other sharing either the newspaper he brings along with him or the new issue of a magazine you’re subscribed to. You’ll even rip out recipes for him to keep, which he tucks safely in his pocket. When he’s too tired from the workday, he’ll close his eyes, his head falling just shy of your shoulder. It all seems silly and insignificant, but to you, it’s special. 

Your relationship never goes beyond this. The two of you don’t talk about work, you never ask questions about the new injuries on his hands or the minor scrapes on his face. The idea of being anything other than acquaintances who commute together terrifies you, and you have a strong sense that it terrifies him as well. While it would be nice to be in love, you’re not confident if you can give that to him. 

It's only after Nanami stops coming when you realize that maybe you can love him. 

On Thursday, the morning after Halloween, the commute takes longer than usual due to a mysterious incident in Shibuya that the media hasn’t disclosed fully. You listen carefully to the gossip surrounding the train. According to the elder folks, it has something to do about “the hooligans” partying too hard on Halloween. The younger generation of passengers chalk it up to some conspiracy about magical entities attacking civilians to lure other magical entities. You’re not sure what to believe, and whatever is the truth doesn’t matter once you realize Nanami hasn’t boarded at his usual stop. The delays don’t help your anxiety as you spend the remainder of the ride wondering where he could be, why he hasn’t shown up, if he’s okay. 

You follow the same routine as best as you can, frequenting the same section as you usually do, holding onto the same pole, which is lonely now without his presence. On the way home, you place your bag in the seat beside you, saving it for him if there’s ever the slim chance he does show up. You continue to tear recipes from the magazines you would normally read with him, placing them inside a small envelope marked with his name, ready to present to him if you ever do see him again. To show him that you never stop thinking about him even in his absence. 

Nothing is ever revealed about what really happened in Shibuya. The general consensus is that whatever danger emerged on that Halloween night is no longer a threat and that the citizens of Tokyo are once again safe. And based on the timing of Nanami’s sudden disappearance, you believe that he’s part of the reason for that. It’s the only solace you find in this otherwise heartbreaking situation. Still, you hold out hope. For what? You’re not sure until two months later when Nanami returns to your life. 

~~~

It takes one month for Nanami to be discharged from the hospital. He was admitted two days following Halloween, after Ieiri performed all she could with her abilities to aid him with his injuries. But he’s alive, they all are. The Jujutsu sorcerers succeeded at defeating Kenjaku and all his minions, thwarting whatever horrible fate they had in store for Tokyo, potentially the entire world. They won. 

However, their triumph came with a cost. The Shibuya Incident left him permanently scarred on the left side and one eye lost forever. Rehabilitation has been grueling the past few weeks, struggling to come to terms with this battered body. He’s received unyielding support from his colleagues who he shares this trauma with. Despite this, there’s something missing, someone missing in his life. He thinks about you much more than he ought to, wondering if you’ve noticed his absence, if it’s affected you at all. Ever the pessimist, Nanami has convinced himself that you have forgotten about him, even after all the tiny, special moments you’ve shared together. It’s better this way, he knows that. After all, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what love is or how to love somebody. 

Still, he’d like to see you again, just to know that you’re doing alright. 

Another month passes before he musters the courage to be out in public again. Because of the winter season, he can hide as much of himself without rousing any suspicion. A large coat, mittens on his hands, a scarf around his neck, a mask to cover the burn scars. He dons his usual spectacles, hoping to conceal the eyepatch draped across his hollow socket. Ever since the incident, he’s felt like a monster, unable to reveal himself to strangers oblivious to the true events of that night. 

He finally boards the train, stepping foot in the usual section as he would going home, searching for a familiar face. There you are, as beautiful as ever, sitting in the same seat, your bag occupying the one beside you. You look up, your eyes meeting his, holding onto his gaze a split second longer than expected before you focus back on the magazine laid out on your lap.

It takes everything in him to deny the swell in his chest, the tiniest sliver of hope fluttering in his belly at the thought of you recognizing him. Before he loses his composure, he takes his place on the empty row across from you, enough distance to observe you inconspicuously. That’s all he intends to do, nothing more. 

As much as his world has been shaken, he’s comforted by you flipping through your magazine as usual, your life continuing normally as it should. However, he can’t help feeling a deep sadness, knowing he’s not a part of it anymore. 

Once again, you prove his assumptions wrong.

His eye widens, intrigued by you grinning at a particular page, carefully tearing it from the binding, something you used to do this for him not too long ago. He watches with bated breath as you retrieve from your bag a marked envelope already teeming with what he assumes are other recipes from previous issues. You add the new one with a delighted expression, making sure to close the flap for a temporary seal. And clear as day on the front of the envelope, even with his obscured vision, is his name written on the front. 

He sits up straight at this, his full attention on this seemingly insignificant discovery. This captures your attention, the inkling you had earlier validated. It’s him. The stature, the posture, those distinct steampunk glasses. You didn’t want to be wrong, so you didn’t say anything, trying to stifle your quickening heartbeat. But you’ve been waiting two months for this reunion, yearned for it more than anything. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you stand up, traversing towards him until you’re an arms-length away, gripping a pole tightly to steady yourself. “Nanami?”

Panic sinks in as he decides to reveal himself to you, anticipating the shock and terror in your face when you see what he looks like now. He removes the mask slowly, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your reaction surprises him. With that same warm smile he’s missed so much, you sit down beside him, unfazed by the scars. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Love is standing close on a crowded train to keep each other company. Love is getting off at the wrong stop to spend more time together. Love is magazine clippings in an envelope with his name on it. Love is seeing all the broken pieces of him and still finding him completely beautiful. 

Nanami is certain now that he could learn how to love like you. 

Author's Note: This is the final installment of the past lives vignettes series. It’s a bit cheesy, but I really wanted to explore the aspect of “missed connections” and I thought strangers on the train would be perfect to do that. Title inspired by the song “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 9

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 9 : Grand Prix and Grand Gestures

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: sorry for the long wait for this new chapter, just enjoying my summer yk! anyways, thanks for your guys' continued support and patience! much love!!

Word Count: 5.6k+

When Jenna stepped out of her room at precisely 4:45 AM, with the early morning sun yet to rise, the last thing she expected to find was the shared kitchen to be a mess. 

Courtesy of you, of course. ‘Cause who else?

“What the hell are you doing to our kitchen?” Jenna croaked out, running a hand against the plastered wall as a guide as she tiredly rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the other. When the blurring in her vision goes away, they settle on you looking… wired, like you’d had three cups of espresso already. 

“Good morning!” You whispered, admiring her messy bedhead with a large toothy smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes as you passed her a steaming mug of coffee without a word causing her to flick a brow up, opting to take a sip instead of questioning it. 

“I’m making you breakfast so you don’t go to work hungry, again.” You explained matter-of-factly, turning your back to check on the stove. The younger actress couldn’t stave off her surprise that you’ve noticed her skipping the most important meal of the day. “Now I’m not the best cook. But, I learned a thing or two about making a mean avocado toast, and since you’re vegetarian… it’s really the only thing I can make you.”

Jenna didn’t expect her heart to be racing so early in the morning. Since your talk, the two of you have been more at ease around the other; falling back into that natural banter, every once in a while. But she can’t lie… the friends' agreement has been difficult to follow through with, especially since you’ve started with gestures such as this. 

The younger actress finds she’s started to… allow herself to enjoy these domestic moments with you, knowing that now, feelings are very much reciprocated — just, without a label yet. 

Placing the steaming mug down on the kitchen island, she chose not to comment on how her coffee was made exactly how she liked it. “I appreciate the gesture, Y/N. I hope you didn’t wake up early just to make me breakfast.”

You turned off the stove, took the pan off the burner, and rolled your eyes. “Get off your high horse, I was already up.” Turning around with the pan still in your hand. 

“You were already up or you didn’t go to sleep?” She countered, expression flat.

You smiled sheepishly, “Jet lag is kicking my ass.”

Jenna snorted and watched as you plated the perfectly-browned toast on a dish and spread some avocados on top; garnishing it with the utmost (adorable) concentration on your face before sliding the plate across the island with a small but proud grin. 

“Consider it compliments of the chef,” you send her a playful wink, glancing down. Jenna follows your line of sight, reading the printed words on the apron. 

Kiss the Chef.

She tried to fight the smile creeping on her face but it proved futile when she felt the familiar warmth enveloping her pale morning cheeks. 

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are…” Was the best response the younger actress could trust herself to utter. “When did you even buy that?”

You laughed, picking up your own cup of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jenna ignored you, electing to take a bite of the toast. She almost felt bad for eating something that you put so much effort towards. But when she takes a bite, she finds herself letting out a muffled moan, making you flush red at the sound. “Holy shit, what did you put in this?”

Plastering a smile, you teased, “it’s a secret.”

“You’re annoying…” Jenna covered her mouth, as she ate. 

“Finish eating or you’ll be late.” You reminded, taking off the apron. The time zone change still messed with your internal body clock, meaning at times, you’d still be up when Jenna awoke for a day of work.

You noted the times she got up and at which of those mornings she managed to eat. After the third day of her waking up late, you decided that the next day you’d be kind and make her a healthy breakfast, knowing it’s often difficult to find time to eat during a busy day of filming. 

“Wait…” Jenna called out before you could leave the kitchen. “What are you doing today?”

You racked your brain; thinking for a moment. “I gotta start packing for Monaco, I leave this Wednesday.”

Jenna remembered you telling her that you’ve been invited to the F1 Grand Prix. She doesn’t really understand the race, but she found your childlike glee over a bunch of cars… endearing. It’s slightly childish that she feels a bit upset by you leaving so suddenly, but these last few weeks have felt blissful ever since your confession. She finds herself wanting to stay in this bubble the two of you have created for as long as she can. “Oh, right…”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing… just wondering ‘cause my family’s actually flying in this weekend,” Jenna admitted, gauging your reaction, noting the way you stood straighter on your feet.

“They are?” 

Jenna hummed. “Yeah, they’re here for a week. They were gonna stay at a hotel but if you’re going to Monaco then…”

You blinked, unsure if you should ask why she didn’t tell you her family was flying in sooner. “Oh yeah, no problem. Listen, it’s your apartment.” 

Jenna rolled her eyes, correcting you, “It’s our apartment. You’re living here too.”

Chuckling, you averted your eyes. “Well, in that case. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Your Spanish needs a bit of work...” But Jenna can’t fight her smile.

“Rude,” laughing, you added, “it’s probably best to skip town though— your family’s probably still mad at me.”

Jenna immediately rounds the counter to stand in front of you, shaking her head in denial. “They’re not mad, Y/N. I already told you.”

You shoot her a grimaced smile, “I know, I’m just joking, but I’m still scared of your sisters… Also, your mom may or may not have texted me about that paparazzi pic of you smoking cigarettes.”

Her brows raised, as her jaw dropped, “she did?”

You hummed in response.

“Fuck…” She grumbled, causing you to laugh. “What did she say?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard from her Instagram stories…” You smirked, enjoying her annoyed scowl. 

“Shut up.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Ignoring the way she straightened her posture at your touch. “A scolding is probably the most you’ll get out of her.”

“I’m 20 years old, I can do whatever I want.” Dropping your hand, you laughed again.

“You may think you’re grown but she’s always going to be your mom. She’s just looking out for you. Not to mention, she’s a nurse, what'd you expect?” You jest but she rolled her eyes, staring up at you with a slight pout in her frown causing your heart to stop dead in its tracks; desperately trying to stare at her lips for too long. 

Maybe it was the confession, or the ‘clearing the air’ that you two have done. But every touch and look from Jenna feels weighted — in a pleasant way, this time.

She sighed heavily, leaning her hip on the kitchen island. “I know… it’s just embarrassing.”

“At least you know she cares.” You chuckled, patting her shoulder reassuringly before walking off to the living room. 

She ignored the possible meaning behind your words. Although she’d love to dive into the story of your mom and hear it from your account, maybe having that conversation at five o’clock in the morning isn’t the best idea.

“Come on, finish up and go shower. You’re gonna be late.” You called out behind you before plopping on the couch.

“You better wash those dishes…”

“Ugh, later.” You groaned. “I need a nap.”

—

Jenna (2:35 PM): hope you’re having a great time in Monaco 🖤

“Get off your phone…” Tom said before snatching the device right from your hand. 

“Dude…”

“You’re in Monaco with the best cars and drivers in the entire world and you’re glued to your phone – what’re you looking at anyway.” the Brit commented, reading the text before you could stop him. “Aw… how cute, she sent a heart.”

“Shut up. You literally made us late ‘cause you spent all night talking to Z.” Attempting to grab your phone back was futile when he held it out of reach, tossing it to Link who was enjoying this interaction judging by the large grin smacked on his face. 

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom defended but it fell on deaf ears as soon as you saw Link begin to scroll through your past messages with Jenna.

“Link… give it back, I need to respond!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll text her back.” Link winked before typing a response. You immediately leapt out of your seat, plucking your phone out of his grasp but it was too late, he’d already sent the message.

“Thinking about you? Really?” You deadpanned despite the warmth coursing fervently through your cheeks. “You’re such an ass…”

“You’re just mad that I finally said what you were really thinking.” He called out as you walked away, fingers slightly trembling as you hit the call button. You wait a few (agonizingly long) seconds, listening to the line ring.

“Hey…” 

“Oh, hey,” there was some shuffling on the other line, “I was just about to text you back.” 

“About that… sorry about that text, Link was being an asshole and took my phone.” You muttered sheepishly; trembling fingers picking at your trousers to counter the nerves that suddenly overcame you.

“Oh? So you weren’t thinking about me?” Her tone is light and teasing. You paint a mental image of her bright, wide smile that usually accompanied her playful taunts; it sent a flurry of butterflies swarming around in your belly.

You pass it off as a stomach ache from your breakfast this morning.

“Come on…” You trail off, not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, I see how it is…”

“Jenna…” You sighed, dropping your fiddling fingers. “Of course, I was thinking about you.”

The line is silent as Jenna doesn’t respond and suddenly you feel embarrassed at your school-girl-like confession. Though it’s technically only been two days since you left London for Monaco, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you were to deny the fact that you’ve been thinking about the younger actress since the moment you stepped out of the shared apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Jenna replied in a small voice. Her admittance causes your heart to stop momentarily but what you couldn’t stop, however, was the satisfied smile creeping on your lips.

Was it pathetic that all Jenna had to do was say a simple, cliché sentence to you and you were practically a puddle on the floor? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” 

“Glad we’re on the same page then…” You uttered, glancing around, hoping no one could see your Cheshire grin. Immediately catching Tom and Link at the other end of the balcony making kissing faces at you. You stick up the not-so-nice finger at them before turning your back on the two men, ignoring their blatant and obnoxious laughter, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called.”

Jenna was supposed to be on set working today, you’d hate to interrupt a busy day’s work…. That’s a lie, this phone call was totally worth it.

“Oh no, you didn’t. I’m actually at the apartment.”

“I thought you’d still be on set?”

“Um, about that…” She trails off in a sheepish tone.

“Jen? What’s wrong?” You asked, panic evident.

“I might’ve—uh—injured myself at work today.” She admitted.

“What?! Are you okay? How? Do you need me to come ba—“

“Y/N… breathe.” She interjects your nervous questioning but it merely goes over your head. Your nerves sky-rocketing the longer she doesn’t answer your questions.

“Are you okay?” You repeated what you really needed to know first.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she chuckled, “just a sprained ankle. I twisted it during rehearsal. It’s not a big deal but they sent me home early to rest.”

“Are you icing it? Keeping it elevated? You know what, send me a picture I wanna see if the swelling is bad.” 

Jenna’s laughter doubles. “I’m okay. I promise. Yes, I'm icing it and yes I’m keeping it elevated. You don't have to play doctor. I’ll even send you a picture, just relax.”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know you are.” She said, almost like she was endeared. “But like I said, it’s just a sprained ankle. They gave me crutches, so I’m good.”

“Crutches?! Do I need to come back home?”

Jenna ignored how her heart swooped at the word: home.

“No,” she laughed, “enjoy your time with the boys and your cars. You looked good on that racetrack, you sure being an actress is your calling?”

You rolled your eyes at her choice of timing for a joke, “You know I’ll leave them in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight back.”

On the other end of the line, Jenna is torn between swooning and mentally cursing you for being so sweet. She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping in, “that’s very sweet, Y/N, but I promise. I’ll be okay, my family’s flying in on Sunday anyway. I’ll be fine until then.”

You sighed unsurely, “Are you sure?” That’s still a few days where she’d have to be alone until someone could help her around the house.

“Yes! Now go, enjoy Monaco. Maybe I’ll even turn on the racing channel or whatever and get a glimpse of you.”

“You did not just say the racing channel…”

“Go!” She laughed and this time, you relent at her assured tone. 

“Fine… but if anything else happens, call me, please?”

“You’ll be the first one to know, I promise.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath hoping to calm your nerves. If Jenna says she’s okay, then you have no reason to go against her wishes. “I’ll text you?”

“Mhmm. Bye, be safe.”

“Bye…” You hang up, dropping the phone from your ear, anxiously tapping it against your other hand as you contemplate your options.

“That was a long call,” Link swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side. “You already miss your girl? It’s only been a day.”

“Quit it. She’s not my girl.” You back-hand him squarely on the stomach causing him to heave out a rough, pained puff. The satisfaction of seeing your best friend in pain was a dull noise in the background of your restless thoughts. “She injured herself on set, I was just making sure she’s okay.”

You chewed on your lip nervously, ignoring Link’s probing eyes as he scanned your faraway look.

“Is it serious?”

“No, just a sprained ankle.”

Link continued to observe you; seeing straight through you. An amused smile painted itself squarely on his lips. “... you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” 

—

“What the— I told you to stay. What are you doing here?”

“And I told you to send me a picture of your sprain.”

Jenna frowned, closely watching as you slipped the duffle bag off your shoulders; landing on the hardwood with a loud thud. 

“Get back on the couch. You shouldn’t be walking.” You ordered, briefly scanning her head-to-toe and letting out a concealed sigh of relief that her ankle didn’t seem too bad. 

“I’m injured, not crippled.” She replied unamused. You meet her eyes, mimicking her expression until the brunette realized you’re not backing down. “Fine…”

“Let me help you.” You stepped forward, taking a closer look at her injury. Her left ankle was covered in a compression wrap as she hobbled around with a single crutch. 

“I’m fine.”

“Jenna, let me help.” You said in a serious tone, not backing down.

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning around with her crutch to walk back to the living room, hoping you missed her rosy cheeks. She ignored the intense thudding in her chest as you walked together. The thought of you leaving a trip that obviously meant a lot to you, sent the younger actress’ heart into a frenzy. 

“What are you doing here?” The younger actress asked again once she was comfortably seated on the sofa.

You took a seat beside her, “I was worried.”

“I told you I was fine, you’re acting like I’m on my deathbed.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the pillow behind you and placed it between you and Jenna. Scooting back to gesture for her to rest the injured ankle on the pillow. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the race knowing that you’re back in London with an injury… so, I left.”

Jenna stayed silent, not trusting herself to say what she was really feeling. So she opted to stare as you examined her wrapped ankle, seemingly satisfied that her injury wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

“I’m just trying to be a good friend… and roommate.” You joked, grabbing the discarded remote off the coffee table. Ignoring the way your skin burned the longer she stared at you unspeaking.

Jenna snorted at your words, grabbing the pillow behind her and playfully lunging it at you. You caught the feeble attempt. “Right, roommate.”

You laughed at the tone that accompanied her words, “how did you hurt yourself anyway?”

If Jenna’s cheeks turned any rosier, she’d be the human embodiment of a tomato. It was embarrassing, really and she blames Aliyah for sending that video. 

She might’ve been too distracted watching a clip of you and Tom walking along the racetrack, waving to the crowd. As luck would have it, she was supposed to be rehearsing for a scene, walking over to her next marking. However, one misstep over a wire sent her ankle twisting in an abnormal way. “I wasn’t paying attention to the marking on the floor and I tripped over a loose wire.”

Jenna was definitely not going to tell you the truth. You’d never let her hear the end of it.

You sent her a questioning look, “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad.”

“Is it too late for you to go back to Monaco?” She joked, straight-faced.

“I’m kidding, of course, I feel bad.“ You settled back into a comfortable position.

“How did you get back so fast?” She inquired.

“It’s only a two-hour flight.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jenna noted that you were on the phone merely two and a half hours ago. “You got through security that fast?”

You blush red.

As soon as the jet landed on the tarmac and the seatbelt lights turned off, you were posted by the doors; impatiently tapping your foot on the floor.

“Miss L/N, your driver is waiting just outside.” The flight attendant alerted you. You nodded, sending a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

When the doors opened and the stairs hit the pavement, you were already rushing down the steps, making eye contact with the driver.

“Miss, I can take your bags.”

“That’s alright.” You tossed them in the back seat before shutting the doors. “How fast can you get back to the apartment?”

“GPS says 45 minutes but there is heavy traffic on the highway.” 

“I’ll drive.” You held your hand out. He looked unsure before seeing that you were not playing around, swiftly handing the keys over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made sure to tip the man handsomely after noticing his white-knuckle grip on the grab handles as you maneuvered through said traffic.

“Uh yeah and I got lucky, no traffic. Anyways….wanna watch Breaking Bad? Unless you finished it already, in that case, we can watch something else.” You changed the subject, Jenna didn’t need to know how you drove that SUV like it was a race car and broke multiple speeding laws just to get here.

“No, Breaking Bad is good. I haven’t watched it since we were at my parents' house.”

You turn, evidently surprised that she kept your unspoken promise. Trying to hide your growing smile, you face the TV again before the staring becomes too obvious.

“Me too.”

—

“Are you sure you’re fine to go to work today? It’s only been like, a day.”

It’s Sunday morning, too early for anyone to be awake. With the sky still covered in a blanket of darkness, you tiredly lean against the wall, trying your best to string coherent words together as you reason with Jenna, who lightly limped around the large room as she gets ready for work.

“Technically, it’s been two.” She glanced at you momentarily. “I don’t want to delay production.” 

“Jenna, you're injured. They can get a stand-in or just not film your scenes today.” You argued. Having had your fair share of on-set injuries, you knew that a major film could afford to delay filming for the sake of an injury. This was merely Jenna’s workaholic tendencies making her feel that she couldn’t stop working. “They can and should accommodate for you, Jenna.”

At your gruffed tone, Jenna dropped what she was looking for, walking over to stand in front of you. “Hey…”

You glanced at your hands, ignoring her soft tone. “Look at me, please?”

Jenna grabbed your hand, drawing your attention to her. “I’ll be okay. If my ankle starts to bother me, I’ll let the director know.”

“You promise?” You asked, glancing down when she started rubbing soft lines against your skin.

“I promise.” She squeezed for good measure.

You studied her soft gaze, attentive to the assured glimmer behind them. Letting out a sigh, you pushed your worries aside. “Okay.”

She smiled at your obvious concern, dropping your hand to walk back to the living room. 

You try not to draw attention to the way your fingers twitched at the loss of contact. “By the way, my family will be here at noon. Are you good to be alone with them while I’m at work?”

“Yeah… I think I’ll be fine.” To distract yourself, you walked off to the kitchen, grabbing a mug for your morning coffee; allowing a gentle silence to envelop the room as Jenna hobbled around and gathered her things.

“Crap!” Jenna suddenly said, emerging out of her room.

“What?” You turned, slightly startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to set up the guest bedroom for them.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders dropped. “I already did it, don’t worry.”

Her brows raised, “you called the housekeeper already?”

“No. I did it myself. We don’t need him.”

Jenna seemed surprised if the raised brows were anything to go by. It was amusing truly, but you elected to stay silent, turning back to make your coffee.

“Thank you…” She finally said.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, “If you want, I can pick up your family at the airport too. Heathrow is a bitch to navigate.”

Jenna didn’t respond, just staring at your back from her spot in the living room. You were unaware of her internal turmoil.

“Jen?” You turned around when you realized she didn’t reply; just staring at you with an unwavering intensity. “Jenna?”

“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “What did you say?”

“I said I can pick up your family from the airport.” You sipped on the steaming mug, a single brow flicking upright in question.

“Oh–uh, no. T-That’s alright, I’m sending a car over to pick them up.” She stuttered pathetically; grateful that the dim lights from the lamp in the corner of the room did well to hide the crimson rising over her neck. “You shouldn’t be seen at Heathrow. You might get spotted.”

“I can wear a disguise.” You thought out loud.

Jenna snorted, pushing away her inner strife. “Oh yeah? Like what, a baseball hat and sunglasses?”

“Hey, it works!” You defended. “Not everyone can just blend in with their height.”

“Was that a short joke?” Jenna arched a sharp brow.

“Nope.” You stood wide-eyed. “Oh hey, I just remembered I left something in my room. Okay. Bye. Have a good day at work.”

Jenna laughed as you scurried off to your bedroom, glad that she hasn’t lost her edge with you.

—

“I can’t believe you cancelled on the driver.” 

The younger actress said as soon as you swung the front door open. Faintly, she can hear the familiar sounds of laughter farther into the apartment. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You act like that’s a new fact.” You snicker, a pleased smile plastered on your lips. “I’d like an apology by the way. The disguise worked perfectly — just like I said it would.”

“You’re too much sometimes.” She shook her head, stepping into the hall. 

“In the best way, though. Right?” You asked, letting her in.

“If it helps you sleep better.” Jenna shrugged, chucking her work bag on the side table.

“Now look who’s being stubborn.” You replied with a knowing smile.  “Go say hi and then wash up. Natalie and I are making dinner.”

She raised her brows in surprise as you walked away. Her footsteps faltering when she walks into the living room. Gaze instantly landing on her sisters and Dad lounging on the couch, in the corner of her eyes she finds her mom who was chopping up vegetables on the kitchen island. 

“Hey, guys…” She said slowly, still taking the scene in front of her.

“Jen!” Mia sprung up from her seat and tugged her sister into a tight hug. 

One by one, Aliyah, her dad and her mom sauntered over to greet and fret over her. Sentiments of I miss you, echoing in the vast apartment.

“It’s good to see you, honey.” Her mom said with a smile. “I hope you’ve been taking care of that ankle.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her Mom’s fretting but nodded reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mom. Y/N’s been helping me.”

“So I’ve heard.” She winked, walking away.

“Uh– you guys made yourselves comfortable…” Jenna cleared her throat as she watched how her mom swiftly walked back to the kitchen where you were leaning against the island, observing her family with a small smile.

“Y/N said to make yourselves at home. Blame her.” Aliyah said, tugging her onto the couch. “How’s filming been? How’s working with Winona Ryder, tell me everything!”

“Great uh–what’s for dinner?” Was the first question the actress asked, too distracted by watching your concentrated expression. The slight scrunch in your forehead as you closely listened to her mom’s instructions was more interesting than what her sister was asking her.

“Mom’s teaching her how to make frijoles.” Mia smirked at her sister’s doe-eyed look. 

“Oh…” Jenna replied with a vacant tone. “Sounds good.”

“Do you have any pictures in your wardrobe—“

“Why frijoles?” She added, interrupting Aliyah when she tried to spark another series of questions.

“Y/N heard it was one of your favourites, said she wanted to learn how to make it for you.” Mia replied, her tone smug.

“She did?” Jenna’s brow raised, still unable to look away from you. 

“I think we lost her,” Aliyah sighed to Mia, giving up on having her questions answered.

Jenna rolled her eyes when her sisters burst into laughter, blinking back to reality. “Shut up. What were you saying?” 

She forced herself to look away and give her undivided attention to her sisters. Pretending not to notice as you kept glancing at her from the kitchen.

—

“Wow this looks amazing, are you sure you helped, Y/N?” Aliyah teased from the dining table.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” You mocked, walking over with a bowl of guacamole, placing it at the centre of the table. “Wait ‘till you try my guac.”

“I always make the that.” Jenna trailed off, sneaking a peek at the bowl.

“I know.” You took your seat beside her. “Your mom showed me how you like to make it. I hope it’s close.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that…” She reached for a chip and dipped a large chunk into the green goodness. You watched intently for a reaction but she gave you none; continuing to chew on. 

“It’s good.” She finally says.

“That’s it?”

“What? I said it’s good.” Jenna laughed at your sullen expression; almost feeling bad. Once your bottom lip popped out in disappointment, she dropped her act, reaching for your arm and squeezing it. “I’m kidding. It’s great, it tastes exactly how I make it back home… but you know, you can’t beat the original.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You repeated her words.

Before Jenna can reply with a quip, her mom walked over with the last bowl of food, disrupting your conversation. But it was all forgotten when the younger actress’ nose welcomed the familiar scent of all of her favourite dishes. She enthusiastically eyed the various dishes scattered on the table, not having had her family’s cooking in what felt like forever. Living with you wasn’t bad – actually, it’s been more than great, but you were serious when you said you lacked skills in the kitchen. That resulted in dinners mostly being take-out these days.

“Have you tried frijoles before?” Jenna asked you. 

“Uh–no.” You blushed. “I actually didn’t even know they were beans until today.”

“You’ll love it.” She grinned, reaching over to plate you a generous helping. You refused to tell her that you didn’t necessarily love beans because her excited expression overpowered any dislike you had for the legume.

—

“You’re still up?” You called out after a brief glance, the pitter-patter of light footsteps coming down the hall, alerting you of her presence.

“Mhm, I heard the clanking of dishes from my room.” She replied, leaning against the counter, watching as you dried off the dishes one by one. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I’ll keep it down.” You grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d unload the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’m actually not too tired too.” She stepped forward, only an arm’s length away from you. “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, you passed her a dry cloth and a bowl from the dishwasher. For a while, silence enveloped the room. You were grateful that you and the brunette can exist in silence, sometimes. Her mere presence provided a certain level of comfort that you’re still trying to get used to.

“So…” She spoke up after a few minutes, gaining your attention. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh.”

You raise an amused brow at the baiting look in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jenna would’ve believed that statement if it weren’t for the small smile at the corner of your lips telling her otherwise.

“Right… so, you just pick up all your friends’ parents from the airport and do chores, willingly.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” You shrugged, continuing to wipe away remnants of water from the plate. Hoping the mundane action hid your trembling fingers well.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yup.”

“So this isn’t you trying to win me over?”

“Me try to win you over? Whaaat?” You puffed out an airy scoff, “that’s ridiculous. I would never. I wholeheartedly respect your decision.” 

But the crinkle in your eyes told her that you were enjoying this way too much.

“Sure…” Jenna rolled her eyes, “even if you are just doing this out of the kindness of your own heart—“

“Which, I am.”

Jenna sends a playful glower at your interruption. 

“Just wanted to put that on record.” You added.

“Thank you.” Jenna declared, her tone soft yet serious. “You’ve been incredible these last few days.”

“Oh.” You blink, a pleased smile plastered on your face. “You’re welcome, Jen. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” The bowl and cloth in her hands were long forgotten on the counter as she closed the distance between you. “No one’s ever done any of… this, for me—thank you.”

The air feels charged as she suddenly looks at you with that doe-eyed stare. Feeling like your heart rate instantly doubles, the longer she stares at you like that.

“What? Be nice?” You said evenly, “You need to set your standards higher.”

She huffed at your antics. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” you laughed shakily, trying to gather some semblance of control over your racing pulse. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, Jen… cause I’d do anything for you.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat she took in the serious glint in your eyes; voice dripping with conviction 

“And this isn’t me trying to win you over. You’ll know when I do.”

The younger actress’ body feels like it’s on fire the longer she listens to your words. 

“Uh, sorry, too much?” You said apologetically when she remained unspeaking. 

But Jenna was already shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“No…” She murmured, her sight drifting down to your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. “Not at all.”

“Okay…” Your gaze bore intently into hers, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move. “Good.”

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker back down for a second time but then she’s blinking out of her self-induced stupor, “um–I should go to sleep. I need to be up early.” Jenna hoped her ogling on your soft lips wasn’t too obvious. 

She steps back and almost instantaneously, the tension in the room dissipates with each movement she takes. 

You nod, smiling softly despite the slight tinge of disappointment you felt; knowing that you shouldn’t rush into this with her. “Good idea, you should rest your ankle… good night, Jenna.”

Just before you turned back to grab the discarded dry cloth, Jenna takes a hesitant step—before she can lose her nerve and leaned up to plant her lips on the pad of your cheek.

Your brain felt like it short-circuited; not having felt her lips in forever as your skin burned against the delicate contact.

“Good night, Y/N.” She whispered, her soft lips grazing your cheek in a way that drove you crazy.

Before your brain could rewire itself well enough to form a response, Jenna was already turning around to retreat back to her room.

Biting your lip to contain the growing smile, you couldn’t look away from her figure until she disappeared behind the door.

Shit…

You’re in deeper than you thought.

——

if there was any mistakes… look away (i tried my best 🧍‍♀️)

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[jade-jini]

imagine dom nerd won x popular sub reader 😩

(I love my wony baby so much Ahhh also I’m sorry I took forever 😞) Smut!

Nerdy wony who might not be that talkative but is not exactly shy you know what I mean? Everybody would believe she’s a sub because look at her she’s so cute and polite but when you guys are in bed?? She shows you who’s in control and who owns you.

(And when I say dom nerd wony is cute but at the same time has a resting bitch face then what? It makes sense.)

To me wonyoung knows how to make you shy, it’s just she decides not to do it aaall the time. But when she does she has your face red and the words caught in your throat it’s so funny. Whenever people see you interacting and see how the popular y/n gets easily flustered by this nerd’s flirting and teasing they’re like??? Stick to your role ??

Wony who loves both rewarding you:

“Cmon baby, if you make me come with just your pretty mouth I’ll make sure you have a good grade in the next test” she said while passing her fingers through your hair, but let’s be honest, her pussy in your mouth was enough reward. Knowing that she meant what she said tho, that was just extra motivation.

And also punishing you:

“We studied so hard and for what, y/n?” She said while she has you bent on her lap, hand print already on your ass.

“I’m sorry mommy…”

Wonyoung spanked you a few more times, each one leaving a painfully delicious sensation. She didn’t stop until your moans became sobs, and she would’ve felt bad (not really) if it wasn’t ‘cause of how your pussy was basically dripping. Your slick making it look so shiny, the taller girl almost drooling at the view. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? I’m gonna have to find a different punishment for you, I think I already turned you into a cute little pain slut.”

So a little throwback; the classic popular kid needed tutoring and the nerd who gets assigned to help you by the teacher. Wonyoung is not really fond of popular kids so she wasn’t excited about the idea, specially since she knew you and your friends could be idiots sometimes. However, she could see in your eyes that you really needed help when she looked over the professor’s shoulder, and he didn’t give her a lot of options anyway when talking about it. So she simply accepted. You two quickly agreed on going to your place after class, and you left right away to meet with your friends, leaving her confused ‘cause why at your place though? When the library was a more than good space to study but whatever, she got sht to do so she didn’t think much about it for the rest of the day.

The thing is before the whole conversation, you and your friends already thought it would be fun to tease her once she’s at your place for the “private lessons”. The plan was to see how flustered you could make her, what was her limit. She’s kinda quiet so you thought she was shy. But oh you were so wrong my bro. Wony’s quiet and serious but shy and submissive? Nu-uh. And you were gonna learn it soon since your dumb ass was also planning that, if she didn’t back off on it, you could also end up having a lot of fun with the cute nerd in your own bed. You kept that to yourself tho, daydreaming about it for the rest of the day.

And as expected by me ‘cause I’m the author but not by y/n, everytime you tried to flirt with her, she’d answer so nonchalantly. Like you were starting to wonder if you simply sucked at flirting ‘cause why couldn’t you make her blush or stutter just once??

On the other hand tho, it seemed so easy for wony to cause this reaction on you lmao

“I just think it’s weird that a pretty girl like you is single ‘cause If I was your partner I’d be jealous knowing you’re going to another g—”

“Aww you think I’m pretty huh?” She teased with that little smirk she had that she didn’t allow to reach her eyes just to seem like she couldn’t care less about it.

“I-I mean…” ugh! Wtf? You were nervous? Since when YOU get nervous? Who did she think she was to make THE y/l y/n stutter? It should be you making HER nervous! You were tired of this game already. “What I meant is that—”

“Eyes on your book, y/n.”

“But I’m—”

“Quiet, y/n.” She basically ordered in such an authoritarian tone.

“Yes ma’am.” You answered, unable to disobey her.

What you didn’t know is that through the whole day Wonyoung has been studying your behavior, from the way you’d get nervous easily to the way you’d obey her every word. She’d merely hint she was thirsty and you were already bringing her water or juice or anything you could find. She said she was cold and you gave her your jacket (which did make her heart flutter but she kept it cool). It was a nice change from the way you and your friends (mostly your friends tho you weren’t that bad:c ) would normally treat other smart, shy kids around school. Now it was her who wanted to see what were your limits. Plus, you were having a little bit of an attitude whenever you got frustrated with a question. And she doesn’t know who told you you could act like that, just because she’s technically your teacher right now and has to have patience doesn’t mean she’s gonna be no punching bag.

“Jang.” You call her, clearing your throat and doing your best to sound confident and firm “Jang I’m talking to you, I don’t understand this question.”

“On your knees.” Wonyoung said, in that nonchalant tone that turned you on you hated.

“What?” You asked, completely confused.

“On. Your. Knees.”

“How is that gonna help me with the que—” bro you stupid fr.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Wonyoung did NOT like having to repeat herself at all, and it was obvious in her eyes even when she had that mean smile in her face. So your body didn’t listen to anything but her order, like her voice was a switch that activates something in you. How could you not listen to her when it felt like that was the only reason you were brought to this earth?

“Good girl. You look so pretty down there.” She praised and you can’t remember the last time you felt this eager for more praising. And you definitely can’t recall wanting it in this position, on your knees in front of her chair. “You’d look even better if that mouth of yours that you can’t seem to keep quiet was busy in something more important than complaining.”

“Hey! I don’t talk that m- Hmm!” And without any warning she just grabbed your hair and pushed your face against her bare cunt. When did she even take her panties off?! Or did she go to school without them at all under her skirt? Jeez.

“There there, hmmm~” she quietly moaned while slowly moving your head to pleasure herself. You were not gonna lie, it was so hot how she was basically using you like that.

“You go to class with no panties? That’s such a slutty behavior you k—” you wanted to tease but she was gonna have none of it, and there she had you shutting you up with her pussy once again.

“Shut the fuck up and put that mouth to a good use. Be good and I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” She threatened, but it sounded so good so was it really a threat?

“Just like that, baby. Keep that pretty mouth right there ‘till I come in it...Hmm fuck y/n~” you heard her from the position you were in, and the beautiful sounds she was making just motivated you to keep going and to do as good as it was humanly possible. You tried grabbing her thighs to have her more steady but she slapped your hands away.

“Ah Ah! Hands behind your back. You wanna touch? You ask first.” She ordered while grabbing your neck and making you look up. Gosh being ordered like this turned you on so much, you obeyed immediately.

“Can I please touch you, mommy?” You asked in such a sweet tone but Wait. What did you just call her?

Fuck… Wonyoung thought, she wanted to hear you calling her that again and again. “Yes, yes you can baby. And you better call me that again when you’re coming for me do you hear me?” She said with the grip on your neck feeling slightly tighter, letting you know you had only one choice. You nodded eagerly, which made her giggle ‘cause you looked cute fr.

With ease, she stood you up and guided you to your couch, pushing you so you’d lie on your stomach. Wasting no time, wony undressed you entirely, the moment your ass was exposed she left a few spanks on it, making you squeak in surprise. This girl got you so wet so fast, your body has never reacted this way with any of your previous sexual partners. But Wonyoung just knows how to touch you. The way her hands travel over your skin. The way her mouth tastes you, making you moan her name and the title that escaped your lips earlier, asking her for more. Asking her to ruin you.

“You’re so needy. One would assume such a popular pretty girl gets fucked everyday if she wants to huh?” You heard, followed by a spank that got a loud high pitch noise from the back of your throat, making her laugh at your reaction and giving you another one “your pussy looks so pretty, exposed like this for me.” She said before bringing two fingers inside it, while her mouth was busy torturing your clit. You were a whining mess, it felt so good and god you were feeling it everywhere. The pleasure taking over you. Wony’s fingers reaching as deep as she could, and so fast turning your brain into nothing. She got you drooling over your own shirt that was resting under your head “m-mommy…Hmm gonna come… p-please~” you left in a moan, barely understandable.

“Ask properly, and I’ll let you. You sound like an idiot right now. Speak properly, baby.” The taller girl said, and it took a lot from you to able to recollect your thoughts, ‘cause they were all just so full of her.

“Please.. please mommy- fuck ~ please let me come..” you begged while sobbing, it all felt too good, and you were so close that the mere idea of not being allowed to come had you tearing up a little bit. But Wony wasn’t gonna be that cruel.

“Good girl.” She whispered right next to your ear and you had to bite your lip to contain a cry from escaping you. She started fucking you faster, focusing more on stimulating your clit. Her other hand kneading and caressing your ass. You let yourself go and came in her mouth, moaning so loud and sobbing, not being able to say any word, just pure sounds of pleasure. The same ones she did (tho hers were lower) as she tasted your orgasm in her tongue and felt you tighten around her fingers.

“That was.. so good wony..” you said out of breath, trying to look back to her, but she made you lie down again, surprising you.

“Was? What do you mean ‘was’?” You heard before feeling her teasing your cunt with her fingers again. Oh.

———

The next morning on your way to class, your legs were still feeling sore so when your friends saw you they clearly noticed the way you were complaining while walking, as if you spent the night working out.

“Jeez y/n, what happened to you?” One of your friends asked. Before you could answer, Wonyoung who was going down the stairs next to you stopped right next to you and gave you a warning with her eyes that made you feel a shiver going down your spine. You gulped and could only answer your friends with “I.. fell?” To which she gave you a little smirk.

“See you after class for our second lesson?” She said, not asking but just letting you know she already decided your plans and gosh she’s so hot dhhdkdfj- sorry. You could just nod before seeing her walking away to her advanced class. Your friends looked at you with shocked faces ‘cause Wtf was all that? But you ignore them and go to your class as well.

Eventually your grades did get better tho, the perks of giving a dom nerd good pussy.

Conclusion: it’s always the quiet nerds lol.

(Also if you like nerd wony go read this one that @pupyuj wrote ‘cause I love it <3)

[letoasai]

dp x dc 2 Mother Gotham

 I had... zero intention of continuing this.... and i still.. have zero intention of continuing... lol i don’t know how this part 2 happened XD Please enjoy or feel free to take it   ~

Part 1      Master List  Constantine stared. 

He’d had very, very little time to learn everything he thought he needed to know about the Ghost King through his contacts and as an adult, he didn’t like what he’d heard so far. He might not be the most responsible bloke but damn it, he wasn’t okay with a fourteen year old taking on so much pressure after what was likely a traumatic death. 

He learned very little other than how young he was, how well liked he was, and how he’d not only earned the respect of many ancients, but befriended them. A good section of his contacts refused to answer any questions about him at all, stating at they didn’t want to cause trouble for the king. 

It was commendable but fucking frustrating. He had to find his boy and his sister and take them to both Lady Gotham and Batman. He’d had a headache all night. 

Constantine wasn’t a stranger to the occult, not by a long shot. He was rather the Justice League’s resident expert, but his lack of knowledge surrounding Amity Park was inexcusable. He had no idea how an entire town went unnoticed but he was going to find out. 

The amount of liminals in one place was ridiculous but he’d have to actually go there to gather more information on these teenagers. As things were, he was waiting at the Gotham welcome Center at the appointed time and was always startled by the amount of activity there. People coming and going. Gothamites were unfazed by the gloom of the city and newcomers were often transfixed by their first taste of a city that harbored so many curses. 

Few were able to understand that it was Lady Gotham stretching her non-corporeal limbs. 

He’d only been there an hour, and he had no description of these teenagers. He should have just asked Bruce. The man had probably somehow already tracked down everything on these kid right down to their favorite colors, but he hadn’t honestly thought he’d need anything like that. Turns out... he was right.

Constantine had just lit another cigarette when the room got cold. He glanced around the room, eyes zeroing in on a hooded figure, a NASA logo printed across the front. He slid up to a vending machine, pushing a dollar in and punching in the numbers for whatever snack he wanted. 

The kid was so unassuming. He could have been any random teenager. The strangest thing about him was that he had a thermos dangling off his belt and stars had been drawn on his shoes in what looked like marker. 

He bent to pick up his snack, but when he turned, he was already pinning Constantine with a stare. 

He wasn’t used to a kid being the one to pick him out in a crowd, but this one…well… Constantine wasn’t about to question his qualifications as royalty. When Constantine did nothing, the teens head cocked to the side in confusion. It was a far too long moment where they did nothing but stare at one another from across the room. 

The staring contest was broken when a red headed young woman exited the nearby bathroom and slid up behind her brother, a hand on his shoulder and a question on her lips. She was definitely liminal, and not as human as they both likely had been once. Not that that mattered to him. It was just one more piece of information to file away for later. The Ghost King silently nodded in his direction, and now there were two piercing gazes in his direction.

 There was something about the sister he couldn’t put his finger on but it would be a bloody cold day in hell before he purposely pissed her off. She was definitely the type to be her brothers keeper, and someone with that kind of sway over the Ghost King was no one to fuck around with. 

He inhaled once more, enjoying the smoke filling his lungs before he hauled himself off the bench he’d been occupying to head towards them. 

“Welcome to Gotham. I’m your one man welcoming committee.” He greeted.

 “Who sent you?” The redhead asked. 

“Got a name?” The Ghost King asked right after. 

They were paranoid, but he didn’t blame them for that. Whatever had them running likely wasn’t friendly. The boy's eyes were rimmed with dark circles and there were bruises along his jaw and neck. His sister wasn’t injury free either. She was holding one of her arms to her chest. Possibly a dislocated shoulder or elbow. “John Constantine. Member of the Justice League Dark.” 

He never would have introduced himself like that normally but he was dealing with a King and well... spooked kids. 

“Dark?” The brother and sister exchanged a look. 

Constantine grunted. “We deal with the magical nasties and what not. I was summoned to Gotham to greet you, Majesty.” 

The Ghost King didn’t wince, but there was a tick to his jaw.  “Danny.” He corrected. “This is my sister, Jazz.” 

“Who was it who summoned you?” Jazz asked, her good arm wrapped around one of her brother’s. 

Constantine nodded to Danny. “His mother. Dunno your full story, but i was led to believe this was your actual mother.” 

Danny’s lips pinched. “That is what Clockwork said…” He muttered to his sister who nodded, though she didn’t look overly trusting. 

“And you have no connection to the GIW?” She bulldozed right through. 

Constantine’s eyes narrowed. “Bloody fuck is that?” 

They exchanged another look. “The Ghost Investigation Ward.” 

“The fuck?” He inhaled again, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth. “What’s their problem?” 

Danny’s brows lowered, a soft, quiet, and mostly certainly deadly sort of anger in that look. “Hunting and experimenting on my people for sport.” 

Constantine tsked, but it did nothing to truly betray how pissed off that made him. “Sounds like a couple of pretenders messing around in my neck of the woods. Thanks for the tip. I’ll be looking into that.” He paused to pull out his cell phone and make a note of them. “No, I’m a right bastard for sure but meddling with the Infinite Realm is a major no-no.”

The Ghost King’s ire lessened somewhat, but the faint glow to Jazz’s eyes hadn’t yet waned. “Why were you picked to escort us?” 

“Probably because i’m one of few around that could hear the call. Your mother has been making arrangements for the both of you. I’ll take you to her first and then to where you’ll be living.” They weren’t a very trusting pair, but he had to assume they had every reason to be cautious. 

Danny finally heaved a sigh and took his sister’s hand. “Fine. It’s a leap but only a lunatic would claim to be in the Justice League when they weren’t.”

 Constantine didn’t react to that, he didn’t want to worry the kid about how many lunatics there actually were. The laugh he’d have over this kid looking like Wayne adoption bait would have to wait. 

“Besides, one wail will take out a good chunk of Gotham, so i’m sure you won’t do anything stupid.” Danny continued. 

“Noted…” Constantine said dryly. He was getting shitfaced tonight. 

~

 Danny rather liked Gotham. Sure he’d barely seen any of it but the ambient ectoplasm was more than enough to sustain him. There weren’t many people who could say that kind of thing energized them but Danny sure could. Jazz could to a lesser extent. It was almost like home, except hopefully less volatile. 

Constantine showed them to his car that smelled like alcohol, cigarettes and magic and took off with them. He didn’t even seem to mind Danny opening and eating his bag of chips. He knew Jazz wasn’t in a trusting mood. He wasn’t either but Clockwork had told him bits about his mother. Had told him to follow his core and he’d find his mother. So far… he was satisfied with the direction they were headed. 

He stifled a yawn but tired tears sprung to his eyes anyway. He had no idea what time it was anymore. Gotham was so dark but there were people out on the street. It could have been noon or midnight and he was too lazy to even pull out his phone and check. It didn’t matter when his master plan was to get himself and Jazz somewhere safe and then sleep for hours. 

When Constantine finally pulled his car to a stop and got out, it had started to drizzle just a little. It wasn’t enough rain to even really get them wet, it was just vaguely annoying. The streets were startlingly vacant compared to the ones they’ve driven passed before and this was obviously an older section of the city. 

Having just arrived, Danny and Jazz didn’t know all the districts in Gotham yet but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this wasn’t main street. Constantine headed towards an old bridge, pieces of it having crumbled away from age but the architecture had obviously once been top tier. 

“Where are we?” Jazz asked, keeping close to Danny, her voice only just above a whisper but Constantine heard her. 

“The meeting point.” 

Danny frowned, but he held out an arm to keep his sister behind him. His core fluttered in his chest, and he recognized that something was coming. He tried to pinpoint exactly what it was but the feeling was something altogether new though it reminded him of Clockwork or Pandora. 

With a gentle wave of power, she appeared. A woman, cloaked with gargoyle like features. She could have been made of stone but she approached them cautiously. “Daneil.” She whispered, and he felt her voice wash over him with emotion. Pride. Pride. Pride. Regret. Pain. Joy. 

Confused. Relaxed. “Was that my name?” he asked. He’d been so terribly small when the Fenton’s had caught him but he could see how his name could have gotten twisted around at some point. “Are you…?” 

Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. 

“This is Lady Gotham.” Constantine said, probably for Jazz and Danny’s benefit. 

She moved, fazing in and out of existence and stopping just out of reach. “Son…” she whispered, the emotion nearly dropping him to his knees. All of her attention was on him. When was the last time he’d had that from a parental figure? 

Danny stared back at her, her green eyes so familiar. He reached up to touch his cheek under his own blue eyes. It was a wonder she could even recognize him. Sure he felt the same but he was half human. Half alive. That didn’t matter to her? 

Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. 

Danny exhaled shakily, falling into his shift. The rings of light circled around his middle before spreading out and revealing his ghost half. White hair topped with a black crown and green eyes matching the spirits. 

Constantine cursed softly under his breath, taking several steps away. 

“Oh, don’t be a wuss.” Jazz chuckled. “He’s not after you.” 

“Not taking any chances with all that,” he said. 

Danny couldn’t help his faint smile at that. “Daneil.” Lady Gotham reached out slowly, cupping his face. She didn’t feel like stone for all she looked like it. She was cool to the touch and he wondered what her core was. She felt familiar. Like he’d met her before. That made sense if she were his mother but after all this time, there was this connection that clicked into place.

 I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Lost you. Lost you. 

Here now. Here now. “It’s okay.” Danny muttered, barely even registering that the bruises on his face were disappearing. “It’s not your fault.” He dared to move, stepping into her space to hug her. She trilled in affection, holding him tightly while Danny chirped his automatic response. When was the last time Maddie had hugged him? 

Jazz could make him purr or chirp in affection but had his parents ever? He’d known Lady Gotham for all of a handful of minutes and already he felt safe in her haunt. It was far safer than his in Amity. 

Welcome. Welcome. Missed you. Missed you. “Daneil.” She said his name like a prayer. Voice quiet but filled with affection. 

“Guess i’m staying here for a while.” He muttered, his core humming. He pulled away from the hug, silently wondering if he’d ever grow horns or something like Lady Gotham when he glanced back over at his sister. She was waiting patiently, still cradling her arm. He’d managed to pop it back into it’s socket but it was terribly tender. “What do you think?” 

“I’m staying if you’re staying.” Jazz said simply. 

“Good child.” Lady Gotham whispered. She vanished from in front of Danny and reappeared next to Jazz. Thank you, Thank you. Thank you. 

Jazz couldn’t always make out the words in emotions but she felt them all the same. Her smile was warm. “He’s my little brother. I love him. I had to come along.” 

She hadn’t. She could have lived a normal life. She could have left him behind. She didn’t have to act as his shield when their parents found out about him. She didn’t have to but she did. She’d never abandoned him. 

Welcome. 

“We’ll figure it out, Jazz. Promise.” 

Lady Gotham reached slowly, taking Jazz’s hands. Thank you. Her immense power shifted again and Jazz gasped in surprise. Danny raised a brow but grinned at the drop of Gotham’s power that flowed into his sister. It sped her healing up, taking away the ache in her arm. He guessed Jazz would become a stronger liminal than she already was. 

Constantine cursed again. “This just doesn’t happen…” he muttered. 

Danny could tell though, his mother was amused. 

“Jasna.” Lady Gotham spoke clearly, pleased with herself. 

“Wait… what?” Jazz looked confused, trying to read the emotions that were being sent to her. It was a mouthful, and amounted to… The sister of my son is also mine. 

“Renamed by an ancient…” Constantine was shaking his head, pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket. Names were powerful… you couldn’t just hand them out… But he was not about to argue with Lady Gotham. 

Danny snickered. “You can still keep your nickname, Jazz.” He felt… calm. He was happy to be here. He liked Gotham because it was safe and his mother was here and everything suddenly felt like it would be okay after all. He and Jazz could start over. 

“Jasna…” Jazz repeated, testing it out. “Thank you.” After everything that had happened.., she could use a mother figure.

Lady Gotham seemed so satisfied. She turned back to Danny, hugging him again, even the wings on her arms fluttered with delight to have her child back. 

My son. My son. 

Danny smiled, wondering if it was like this for all ghost children when their parents were near. He’d have to call Ellie and have her swing by to see if she felt the same way he did. “We’ll figure everything out…” He paused and looked back at Constantine. “You were taking us somewhere else too?” 

“Yeah.” He was flicking his lighter on and off, likely considering another smoke. “Lady Gotham is entrusting you to someone who will also have a hand in keeping you safe. She hand picked him and everything.” 

“We just need an apartment… and…” Jazz frowned a little. They’d talked about it a little and Danny had hated the idea of his sister giving up on school for even a week. 

“Not necessary.” Constantine said dryly. “You’ll be fine.” 

“Where…are we going exactly?” Danny asked, looking at his mother again. He was so strangely pleased that they had the same eyes. 

She laughed, actually laughed. He felt her excitement in her bones. She pointed up into the air and only a few beats later, the bat signal was spread across the sky, glowing against the smog and clouds. 

“That’s…” Jazz blinked, who could have planned for this? 

“No way.” Danny stared at the glowing signal. Everyone knew what that meant. He looked to Constantine again who only nodded his confirmation. His mother was still laughing, enjoying the moment. “We’re staying with Batman!?” ~~ ~~

I really didn’t intend to continue this, i’m not sure it’ll happen again. I have no confidence in writing for the Batfam. If anyone is interested, go for it. 

Tag list. 

@meira-3919 @choppedphantomsweets @kisatamao @thewondersoflebanon @emergentpanda-blog @epilepticnerd @paroovian @blep-23 @addie-lover-of-stories @phoenixdemonqueen @bianca-hooks123 @crystallicedart @observethevoid @jaytriesstuff @skulld3mort-1fan @icedbluesoul @rosecinnamonbun @nixthenerd @oterion @lexdamo @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @villian-lover7899 

[thedarks1de]

Professor

!professor Nanami x !student reader

Ignore the mistakes!

1 part

Ever since the college changed the physics professor, you have been having serious problems with the subject. In fact, you always had problems-you never understood physics, but the old professor, an elderly man, gave you good grades for good money. All you had to do was slip him a few dollars and the highest grade was in your pocket. You were happy, the professor was happy, everyone was happy.., but sooner or later everything changes. That professor quit and a new one took his place.

Professor Nanami Kento. A stern, serious, nerdy man. He looked to be in his early thirties. He always went in strict suits, wore print ties and dark green glasses. And worst of all, he didn't take bribes.

You failed several important tests that affect your final grade. You had no idea what to do. You could, of course, just start studying his subject and fix your grade, but you never understood physics, it's unlikely you'd be able to do that… But you'll find a way to crack Professor Nanami. Maybe if you try hard enough, he'll take the money and give you a top grade in physics. Yeah, you should definitely try to bribe him again.

You found him in the physics room, which was no surprise. Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside. When Kento saw you, he put his notebooks aside.

— «Ms. y/n, did you want something?» — He asked, looking at you through dark green glasses.

You started to fidget for some reason, the words wouldn't come out of your throat, and you just stared at him in silence, biting your lower lip.

— "Ms. y/n?" - he snapped his fingers, bringing you back down to earth.

— "Ah… uh… Yes." - You muttered. "I mean my grades…"

— "Oh, you've finally come to fix them?"

— "How much do you want?"

— "What…?"

— "I'll pay you as much as you ask, just…"

— "I don't take bribes, Ms. y/n. We've already discussed this, haven't we?"

— "But…"

— "No "buts". Learn the material and correct your grades."

You walked out of the professor's office, slamming the door loudly. You felt a great sense of disappointment and despair. All of your hopes that you would be able to get good grades without difficulty have been dashed. You have to face the harsh reality: you will have to learn to understand physics on your own, to absorb the material, to spend a lot of time and effort to assimilate new knowledge. No, you would find another way. You didn't want to spend your days and nights sitting behind books.

— "That Nanami pisses me off!" — you complained to your friend about your teacher. Every class, he bombarded you with questions, gave you bad grades, and generally pissed you off with his existence.

— "Why don't you just start studying?" — A friend asked, sipping her coffee.

— "No. No way! I'll find a way to crack it." — You said.

— "Maybe… and though no, you won't." — sighed her friend, shaking her head.

— "What are you talking about? What won't I do?" — You asked interestedly.

— "Well… Have sex with him."

— "…What?"

— "Almost all the professors in our college fuck female students and give them good grades."

— "What do you mean almost all of them?!"

— "Well, Professor Gojo, Professor Geto, Professor Sukuna, and Fushiguro. You'd know how many they've already fucked. The students themselves come to them and ask for it. I think Professor Nanami's the same way. Just seduce him, get him in bed, and he'll give you the highest grade of the year."

You pondered, listening to your friend. The idea of sleeping with a professor for a grade sounded absurd and unacceptable. But the thought began to slowly creep into your thoughts. But you couldn't believe that something like this was happening at your college.

You didn't want to stoop to that, but on the other hand, you found it more… more attractive than sitting at a textbook. But Professor Nanami wasn't someone who could be seduced that easily.

A week had passed and you were determined to sleep with your processor. You were struggling with mixed feelings of fear and excitement. You even began to watch Nanami more closely, trying to figure out what might have attracted him. While Nanami was still that strict, serious, and nerdy teacher, he was also quite an attractive man. And even very sexy.

After class was over, you went to his office again. Once inside, you closed the door behind you.

Nanami looked up at you. You bit your lip and silently stepped closer to him.

— "What is it, Miss y/n? If you've come to offer me a bribe again, then…"

— "No, Professor… That's not what I came for."

— "Oh? Well, I'm listening to you." He took off his glasses and put them on the table. Nanami looked straight into your eyes and you felt uneasy, but you don't intend to give up.

— "I came to offer you my body..."

— "I beg your pardon?" Kento arched an eyebrow.

— "You can have me… well… to sleep with me… in general, I offer you my body in exchange for a high assessment…"

Nanami was silent. His face expressed obvious bewilderment and indignation, and this indicated that he would not accept your offer in any case.

— "Miss y/n… As a student, you should strive for knowledge, not use your body… for the sake of personal gain, to offer such a thing to a professor."

You have experienced a sharp sense of shame and chagrin. Your hopes for an easy way out of a difficult situation have collapsed again. You could feel your hands shaking and your heart beating so loudly and strongly that it seemed Nanami could hear it. You looked at this man, barely holding back tears.

— "I can pretend that you didn't offer me anything like that. Now go and study the topics you're lagging behind on." — Nanami remained serious as he said this.

— "I'm sorry…" — You ran out of his office with tears in your eyes. You were ashamed, very, very ashamed. How could you offer yourself to a professor? Why didn't you think that he would refuse? Damn it, now he definitely thinks that you're not only dumb, but also a slut offering to fuck yourself for a high score.

For the next few days, you stopped going to Nanami's classes because you were ashamed to even look at him. You've disgraced yourself and you don't know what to do next.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes and promised yourself that now you will study seriously and really immerse yourself in the material. You need to find a tutor who will teach you physics.

And you went back to Nanami's office. You were very nervous and afraid to look at him.

— "Miss y/n?"

You stood in front of Kento, feeling confused and confused.

— "Hello, Professor…"

— "What is it this time? And why did you skip classes?"

— "Ah, I'm sorry… I… Professor Nanami, I wanted to ask you to study with me additionally. If it's not a problem for you…"

— "So you've decided to start studying after all? This is encouraging."

Nanami looked at his wristwatch. He frowned, and you started to get even more nervous, afraid of rejection.

Kento looked at you again.

— "I don't stay here after the lesson is over," he said.

You lowered your head. So he's not going to teach you?

— "If you want additional classes, you can come to my house. We'll work out there," Kento said.

— "At your place?" — You specified.

Nanami nodded. You've been thinking a little bit. So he's inviting you to his house?

— "Good!" you nodded enthusiastically.

— "In that case, shall we go right now or will you make up some kind of schedule?" asked Kento, leaving the college with you.

— "Maybe if you're free, we can start today?"

— "All right. My car is in the parking lot, let's go."

You and Nanami walked to the parking lot where his car was parked. Kento opened the backseat door for you to get in. You're blushing a little. What a gentleman he is.

You drove for 30 minutes in complete silence until you finally reached the professor's huge house.

[notjustjavierpena]

Wake

A/N: Finally another part of my darksugardaddy!joel. This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while, and I’m so pleased with how it turned out. Be kind to me as I haven’t written in a while and I feel terrible about starving you all of content.

Summary: Joel comes home to fuck your lights out. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con with non-con elements, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, choking, passing out, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50908876

Wake

It’s a late afternoon when you come to a realization; you don’t love Joel Miller, and you don’t think you could ever love Joel Miller. He is everything that you’ve been taught to hate if you want to believe in fairytales. Your parents would disapprove of him so immediately that you’d be terrified of them cutting you off from them if they knew of his existence.

You’ve never had a man be this rough with you, and only occasionally stroking your hair in apology afterward, but you suppose that the copious amounts of money spent on you - clothes that feel like armor around regular men and expensive bottles of wine that might as well have been potions designed to make you insane - is enough to make up for any unpleasantries within what you don’t dare call a relationship. 

You don’t love him but you can’t hate him. Not in a way that any other person would. How else would you surround yourself with pretty things? You’re no good at anything else than being what he needs.

Whenever he has had a bad day, you know the roughness will increase. It always starts the same; with a slam of the mansion door and a hungry search for you through the obnoxiously large building. He calls for you and you don’t dare not to answer, and in the end, he finds you in the extravagant living room - one of many - with its gold-rimmed glass tables and Chesterfield couches. You’ve been reading a book, but you put it down the second he enters and don’t even bother asking to read to the next full stop. 

“There you are,” he almost heaves for breath with exhaustion from his anger. He isn’t angry at you - you know this - but still, you find yourself treading lightly when his voice is so cold that the living room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature and causing your nipples to harden at the sudden change.

Then, as part of your ritual, he gets a thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of his suit and places it on the nearest surface. A bank transfer won’t do in these situations. He needs something physical, something he can hold in his hand and flash before you, and you know that he wants you to fall to your knees and beg for the warmth and dirtiness of the printed bills against your clean skin.

You’re just about to when he interrupts you.

“There will be more when you wake,” he promises, voice almost too quiet and restrained. Like he is saving his strength. 

You notice his choice of words; when you wake.

Wake.

You gulp. You’ll have to take it in stride. You’ll have to play the part.

You rise from your seat and he watches you patiently. You say nothing as you lower yourself onto the glass table and then lie down on your back, knowing it can hold because Joel would never buy a surface that he couldn’t have you on. 

You’ve learned not to wear anything too difficult to get out of, so it takes little time for you to pull off your skirt. Though you struggle a bit with your underwear since they’re already damp, sticking to the outline of your cunt and the sight makes Joel smirk like the Devil. Curse him, you think, for knowing that you can barely function when he looms over you like a giant, like a dangerous predator that hasn’t tasted blood for weeks. 

When you manage to maneuver your panties down your thighs, he twitches with impatience and curls his whole fist around the cotton fabric. He yanks them down and watches them twist into themselves as he pulls them down over the length of your legs and off your feet. 

They catch on your heels for the tiniest second. He gracefully undoes the ankle straps of them and drops each one onto the floor after taking it off. The anticipation is killing you, toying with your ability to breathe properly and even moreso at the humiliation of only wearing your top now. 

“Pull it down,” he commands, gesturing to it. You start to yank at the bottom to pull it over your head but he growls, “Down. Not off, stupid bitch.”

Oh. 

You pull the neckline down to settle it underneath your breasts, feeling like something on display with the way that Joel takes you in. His cock strains against the front of his pants, his breath uneven, when he cups both of your tits in his hands and pushes them roughly together. His thumbs skim over your hardened nipples, causing you to moan and he responds by pinching them instead until the moan transforms into a whimper.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your pretty little lights go out,” he mutters, pinches, and then tugs a bit on your nipples until you move involuntarily, “Lie still. Don’t give me any shit.”

He takes a step back, his gaze pinning you down whilst he undoes his belt. You refrain from shivering in case he tells you off once more, but you’re so close to doing it when you hear the noise of his zipper. A gush of wetness seeps from you, possibly smearing the glass surface that you are lying on. 

“Please,” you say pathetically.

“Please what?” He asks as if he doesn’t care.

“Daddy,” you present your cunt for him by opening your legs and Joel instinctively looks at your quivering slit, “Please fuck me.”

Joel steps between your legs, using his knees to push them even further apart. He towers over you, cock standing impressively into the air after he has shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs. He tuts at the desperate look in your eyes, “I barely make it through the front door before you’re spreading your legs for me.”

You want to argue that he was the one who sought you out, but he might leave you with a throbbing cunt if you have the audacity to play smart with him, so instead you just nod with a breathless ‘yes’.

He places one knee on the coffee table, following up with scooping a hand underneath the small of your back to align your lower pelvises. His grip is so strong, his bare skin, the amount you are allowed to feel, burns against your own. Like King Midas, his touch enriches you, turns you into something as valuable as gold. 

His cock breaches your tight cunt moments after. He watches you intently as your eyes screw shut with the inevitable sting that it brings due to his generous girth. He seats himself to the hilt inside of you and reaches something you didn’t even know a man could get to when he presses his hand into the spot where it rests on your back. 

“Good girl,” he praises with a strained moan, “How do you feel?”

“Full,” you say shakily and teasingly clench around him. 

He takes in a sharp breath, and before you know it, his free hand has come down on your right breast in a harsh slap. He adds to it by palming your throat afterward, tightly gripping it when you try to squeeze around his length again after not having been given time to react to the consequence of doing it the first time. You smirk up at him and he nearly loses his mind. 

“God, you just want it bad, don’t you, little girl?” His hips draw back and he keeps you waiting for the briefest second before slamming them forward again. The force behind his thrusts is borderline painful, but the way his hand arches your back makes his cockhead pound your front wall. 

The moans you let out are barely there, high-pitched or silent with the way he knocks all wind out of you whilst simultaneously cutting off oxygenated blood to your brain.

He fucks you like an animal, all groans and grunts, sweat dripping from his brow because he is too hungry for dominance to undress. He loves being able to quickly flee the scene afterward and loves leaving you with no clothes on so you cannot follow him. 

But it’s not the amount of clothes that he wears compared to you that gets you close to the edge. It is the fact that nothing around you feels real except for him. Even you don’t feel real but rather closer to an inanimate object that only comes alive because of the dark eyes that penetrate your own. 

You’ve known this fact for a while. Despite the love not being there, you know that after this arrangement has started - you don’t know what else to call it - his mere looking at you is what makes you materialize. 

Your fingers come up to curl around his wrist. You cannot breathe and it fucking hurts, only dulled by the way that your cunt starts to flutter with how close he has gotten you to the edge. You hadn’t expected him to make you come. 

With wide eyes, you look up at him in an attempt to tell him what is going on. He holds your gaze, pleased with himself as he drives into you, “I know, little girl, don’t have to tell me, I can feel you.” 

You don’t have the guts to fight his harsh hand. You take it with tears forming in your eyes and the feeling of your pulse pounding in your neck where it’s fighting to get past his bruising grip. 

“Say it, say that you love me, that you’re nothing without me,” he commands, but when you try to speak it is nothing but a squeak. He has his hand so tightly around your windpipe that you cannot get a word past your lips, drooling and shaking underneath his lack of mercy as your tongue feels too big for your mouth. He grins maniacally down at you as your vision blurs around the edges, “Made you speechless, did I? You filthy whore.”

You have always been familiar with the term putting someone’s lights out, but you’ve never understood the true meaning until Joel came into your life. You come hard, unfolding beneath his touch, with tears on your cheeks - and then there’s nothing.

Like a child falling asleep in a car seat, you have been carried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You sit up in your comfy bed and try to piece together how you have gotten here, and when you realize, it is because of your underwear and skirt messily and hurriedly sitting around your ankles. 

You tug your bottom garments up again. There is something sticky between your legs, and you know, immediately. what it is when you start to shift your legs and are hit with soreness. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken or damaged. 

You glance to your right and spot the stack of bills that Joel had flashed earlier. It is neatly placed on the edge of the table along with a glass of water and some aspirin. You’ll take them soon, need to feel the ache a little while longer.

Instead of doing what is most comfortable (like taking the damn pills), you reach for the money instead. A delusional person would argue that they still feel warm, the temperature somewhere between newly printed and body heat. You take a few of them in your hand, and then you press them against your skin. The fact that you find it soothing is pathetic.

The wonder and innocence of being carried upstairs as a kid doesn’t translate into adulthood, you think, and then you lay down to fall into a deep sleep.

.

.

.

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[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi! Can I request MM! Raph with a fem s/o who is very opposite of him, like she's kind, dresses very girly, oblivious, kinds like opposites attract. Where one day, reader is getting flirted with but doesn't understand it, and Raph is js getting jealous/protective??

Don’t Flirt With My Girlfriend (Fluff)

MM!Raphael x reader

A/N: Of course you can! I’m thinking jock Raph with his girly yet a little nerdy girlfriend. I don’t know why, but I just find it cute❤️

Warnings: Raph being jealous, and reader being oblivious to unwanted flirting, but nothing too bad❤️

Whoever said that opposite attracts, had no idea how right their words were. When they first uttered those words, they would have had no idea that such a thing as you and Raphael would ever come to happen.

You and Raphael was the stereotypical high school love story. Well… except the fact that Raph was a mutant turtle and considered a hero in the city of New York City , but that is not very important. Raph was a jock, part of Eastman High’s wrestling team, currently testing his waters in the school's American Football team, having played a few successful games. And though he might be big and strong with a quick temper, he didn’t do too well in his studies, lacking behind for quite some time. But that was how he first met you - his opposite in so many ways.

You were sweet, calm and always so happy, yet drawing very little attention to yourself. Well, at least not by sound, but quite a few had their eyes on you. Often dressing in dresses with pretty floral prints in light colors, such as pink, baby blue, light green and soft light yellow and purple, you were the stereotypical girly girl. And not only that, but you were in the same math class as Raphael, which was how you finally got to talk to him, when your teacher asked you to become his tutor.

Becoming Raph’s math tutor meant that you and jock would spend much time together, both at your place and his. And as time passed and the two of you got to know each other, neither of you could help the crush that you were developing. However, it was during this time that Raph learned something very important about you - you were not good at reading his flirting. He could send you all sorts of looks, or say all kinds of sugary sweet things, but you didn’t seem to understand what he was trying to do or say, which was a little frustrating to the young mutant. However, he decided to do his best and follow your tutoring, believing that was a way to get closer to you. When Raph later passed a math test, after you had helped him prepare, he decided to ask you out, and the rest was history.

You and Raph quickly became the couple of Eastman High that everybody knew of. No matter if it was wrestling or football, if Raph did good in his sports, he would make a show of running to you, where he would place a firm kiss to your lips, telling you how much he loved you, before running off to continue his game. That was enough to let the whole school know that you were together. That you were with Raph and that he was with you. Only a fool wouldn’t be able to understand that. Unless some poor soul hadn’t been there to see that. That is where Anker came into the picture.

Anker was an exchange student from one of the Scandinavian countries, having decided to study in the US for a year. That was how Anker found himself in the same English class as you, sitting just a few rows behind you. And it only took him a few days to develop a small crush on you, not knowing about your mutant turtle boyfriend of a jock. Which is why he decided to walk up to you after class, in the hopes of chatting you up.

As you stood by your open locker, getting a hold of the books you needed for your next class after the break, Anker came up by the locker beside you, resting against it as he began talking to you. You smiled a friendly smile to the exchange student, answering his questions as politely as possible, not noticing the way he kept eyeing you every other minute, or how people passing looked at him, as if he was crazy. If Raph saw this, he might as well count his days. But you were totally oblivious, believing that Anker was only trying to be friendly. An exchange student trying to make new friends.

“So”, Anker continued, changing the subject. “What are you doing this weekend, (Y/N)?”

“This weekend?”, you repeated deep in thought. “Well, this Saturday I’m spending time with my family, and Sunday I’ll be studying for Monday”.

“So you don’t have any plans on Friday?”, Anker asked, not noticing the mutant turtle whose eyes was piercing through him, as he walked up to the two of you at a fast pace, his gym bag almost falling off his shoulder. “Would you like to go to the cinema with me on Friday then?”

“No, sorry”, you answered, still not aware of your boyfriend as he was making his way to you. “I already got plans for Friday”.

“Plans?”, Anker asked in confusion. “With who?”

“Me!”, Raph spat at the exchange student, making the boy jump in fear. Not just by Raph’s sudden presence, but by his appearance. No one had told Anker that the mutant turtles were studying at Eastman High. Raph wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to him, while staring daggers into Anker’s soul, his anger fuming underneath his skin. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you can quit it right now. Don’t flirt with my girlfriend, buster!”

Anker looked more than just a little unsure, before quickly making his exit, feeling Raph’s eyes burn the back of his neck all the way to the end of the hall, until he was out of sight.

“I’m sorry, Raph”, you finally said when Anker was gone, already feeling horrible. “I had no idea he was flirting with me”.

“It’s okay, babe”, Raph said, wrapping his other arm around you, hugging you tightly against him, feeling his plastron underneath his jersey. “It’s not your fault. You’ve never been good at recognizing flirting, so I don’t blame you at all. But if he tries on anything, I’ll punch his face so hard that he’ll-”.

“I don’t think that’s necessary”, you interrupted him, putting a soft hand against his cheek, feeling him lean against it. There was no doubt that having you in his life had helped Raph calm down immensely, having an easier time cooling down from his more temperamental periods. Just like now. The feeling of your warm hand against his face calming him down. “But thank you for looking out for me, Raph. Otherwise I might unknowingly have gotten myself into something dumb”.

“Anything for my girl”, Raph smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead, causing you to smile like crazy. Even you were able to understand how sweet that gesture was and what that meant. “Are you still up for our date on Friday?”

“Of course I am”, you said, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. “I’ve been waiting ever since last Friday for another diner date”.

Raph chuckled at that statement, finding your enthusiasm adorable. “Gosh, you’re cute. Gimme a kiss, babe”.

You giggled, before standing on your toes as Raph leaned down, your lips meeting together in a sweet tender kiss before you pulled back, looking deep into each other’s eyes with bright smiles.

“Eating together at lunch?”, Raph asked.

“Of course we are”, you answered, kissing Raph one more time, before the two of you made your way towards math with your hands entwined.

[oneofstarkskids]

"plus...he's adorable"

steven grant x reader, first meeting

warnings: slight age gap?

*not my gif*

finding your passion hadn't been a straight and narrow path. you had no idea how some people just woke up knowing exactly what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives.

in high school you played sports, but they were never something you wanted to do as a career. you recently learned that you love to paint, but it just felt like a hobby. you didn't feel experienced enough to make something of it.

you'd gone to four years of university, majoring in business because it's what your parents wanted. but you were tired. you were so tired and you weren't passionate about anything.

finally, you were sure you were ready to give up. you were in the school library, turning in some text books you'd used, when you just glanced over briefly. your eyes caught the title of a large book.

"If You Are to Love, Love the Moon"

curiosity took over and you picked it up to read the synopsis. by the time you were done, you'd picked out three more books on the subject and plopped them down in front of the librarian.

it took you less than twenty-four hours to finish all of them and you had this burning desire to know more.

which led you here, studying egyptology abroad in london, standing in the national gallery, staring at a poorly constructed pyramid of giza.

"oh bullocks!" you heard a man shout just as something crashed to the ground. you searched for where the noise came from.

your eyes landed on dark brown curls peeking out just above the counter at the gift shop.

nosily, you made your way over. as you placed your hands on the counter you cleared your throat. a man with steven printed on his name tag stood up quickly and gave you a nervous chuckle, "morning."

you suppressed your laughter, "hey there. you alright?"

"me? yeah, fine!" he said unconvincingly. "did you want to make a purchase? i personally recommend the horus figurines. you know, it's believed that he was a benevolent protector in ancient egyptian culture. plus..." he held one up, "he's adorable."

this time you couldn't help but laugh, and thought the same thing of steven himself.

"i'll take one," you said and watched as he rang it up.

he glanced up at you as he put it in a small gift bag, but quickly looked back down when he noticed you'd caught him.

you reached to grab the bag, but paused as your hand brushed his. steven was stunned by the feeling of your hand against his and didn't want you to go.

"do you live nearby?" he asked slowly. you stopped yourself from grinning at the idea of him asking you out.

"uh- because we can ship items in the future," he said instead.

you frowned, "okay. well, have a good day." you took the bag and walked off. the whole thing just made you want to go home.

just as you were stepping out into the street, you were knocked to the ground.

"oh! sorry! i'm terribly sorry, i didn't mean to do that," you heard stevens voice. you got up and dusted yourself off.

"what is wrong with you?" you asked in frustration.

he rambled, "well, many things but that's a topic for another time." you had this look of concern that made steven feel guilty. "okay i'm just going to come right out and say it."

you listened intently. "i would, would you like to- do you want to grab a bite sometime?" he finally got the words out and you giggled.

"i would love to."

steven beamed and nodded, "good. very good." he started to walk away but quickly turned back around, "actually, do you have a piece of paper?"

you searched your purse for a moment before pulling out a small sticky note and a pen. steven took it gratefully and wrote his name and number down.

he handed it to you and you noticed that it read, stev̲en with a v. the v being underlined for emphasis.

you grinned, "see you soon, steven with a v."

[cocteaucherry]

First time Christmas Pt 2

warnings!inexperienced!choso, fem reader, nipple play, drunk (tipsy) sex, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up), bodily fluids, bit of body worship (not proofread srry again 😔) loss of virginity

word count: 1.8k words

“Oh God..” Choso let out a pathetic whimper as his head lolled back to bump rather loudly on the headboard, the fading pain eventually subsided as he felt your jean-clad ass rock gently on his strained hard-on.

You felt Choso’s large calloused hands run up the fat of your ass giving it a harsh squeeze that resulted in you letting out a yelp also making the raven-haired man below you drunkenly smile, your hands then began to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Choso’s heartbeat began to increase significantly as he gently grasped your wrist, “W-wait! I have to tell you something.” You immediately retracted your hand feeling a pit in your stomach, oh God I went too far before you could push out an apology Choso spoke. “Im. Not experienced, heh..” he mumbled quietly, his thumb tracing circles into your thigh.

You smiled leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “Cho.. You know that doesn't matter to me,” you said softly, taking the suffocating feeling out of the air, “I know, I know it's just- this is our first time together, and I... really just wanna make you feel good.” You could tell he was heavily embarrassed by the situation and it made your heart twinge. All he wanted to do was make his first time pleasurable for you.

Choso closed his eyes as the oh-so-familiar feeling of tears threatened to make an appearance, he ruined the moment like he usually did, when will he ever learn to just shut up?-

His deprecating train of thought was derailed by a pair of plush lips smashing against his, “I don't think you understand how many times I have to restrain myself from begging you to fuck the shit outta me.” your words accompanied by your hand lightly gripping his raging hard-on through his pants, “y/n..~” Choso whined out bucking his hips desperately for friction. “Fuck.. just fuck me please.” He blushed out, releasing his hand from your wrist.

You hummed happily resuming your action of undoing the buttons on his shirt, his pink erect nipples immediately making themselves known when the fabric fell from his tone chest. You began to adjust your position sliding down between his legs, his hands struggling to find a patch of your skin to attach to. “You’re killing me baby~” he whispered to himself as he felt your hands unzip his pants and start to pull them down

You were immediately awestruck at the sight of the bulging tent in his boxers, was he always this big? Of course, you felt the print through your various make outs but this was different, your very expressive shocked look didn’t go unseen by Choso immediately felt a sense of.. pride. Was it pride? He pondered before letting out a straight pathetic whine as he felt your tongue glide over his clothed cock.

Your saliva staining the previously made wet spot from his strained weeping cock as your hand slid the waistband down. His cock slapped his abdomen resulting in a small grunt from Choso, his pink-reddish tip weeping with a bead of precum emitting from the slit. One of your hands wrapped around the base while the other toyed with his slit, Choso was a red whining mess watching your finger dip into his slit, watching you pull it away slowly as the string of precum followed your finger, “you never told me you had such a pretty dick Choso.” You giggled, kitten licking his tip before placing a small kiss on it. “Y-you never asked..” The smirk on his lips soon replaced his whines and moans as you took his tip into your warm wet mouth.

You wrapped your pink muscle and the tip of his cock immediately savoring the slightly salty flavor of the precum coating the tip of your tongue, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you began to slide your mouth up and down the extensive shaft of his cock. Choso writhed as a hand immediately found home into your scalp gripping not so hard for you to find painful, “Fuck fuck fuck! Please just like that.~” he whined as he began to slowly piston his hips into your mouth causing you to sputter and slob saliva across your working knuckles.

You swiped your tongue over a certain vein causing an electric sensation to hit his body and making him release one of the loudest whines you heard from him, your hands reaching down to massage his taut balls. Without warning he pushed your head down to a halt as ropes of white cum coated your tongue, throughout his orgasm were moans and out-of-breath apologies, “ I'm sorry didn't mean to cum oh fuck..” he whined as you pulled off his now softening dick,

“Choso, please! That was so fucking hot.” you gleamed with a smile feeling a hand caress your cheek as he stared at you lovingly, “Can I.. Can I try eating you out?” he asked so innocently you felt your heart almost tear in two, “Please Choso..” You said as you pulled your soft pink sweater off revealing a lacy white bra underneath, if Choso could he would blow another load from just the sight of your plush tits being constricted by such delicate fabric the whole scene was straight erotic to him.

Choose sat up pushing the rest of his shirt off as he hungrily eyed you wrapping his arms around your waist, his face immediately buried into the crevice of your tits basking in the sweet smell and softness of the mounds of flesh, his hands gripped the waistband of your pants trying his hardest to pull them off which made you laugh, “Cho! Let me take them off first!” you laughed gripping his head and his lips began to pepper wet kisses on the tops of your breasts. “I just wanna. Worship..” kiss. “And touch every inch of your body..” he gazes up at you with a drunk look, you weren't entirely sure if it was the alcohol or if he was getting drunk off of your essence.

His words brought a blush to your face, “Oh yeah?” you taunted playfully, he nodded, finishing the act of peeling your pants off which revealed a pair of black panties, they were nothing special to you but to him, he was jealous of the fabric that got to hide and hug around your sweet cunt all day. “oh yeah..” he said preoccupied as his hands wrapped around to your back to unclasp the delicate lace.

As your breasts fell from the bra you felt the immediate attack of your nipples, letting out a mewl as Choso’stongue went to assault the poor pebbled peaks. A groan erupted deep within his throat as his tongue focused on one nipple and his hands slid down beneath the waistband of your panties. This was described as unknown territory for Choso never coming close to being with or touching a woman, just follow what they do in the videos he thought to himself.

His hand worked to find the bundle of nerves when he was sure he found it he began to rotate tight slow circles around the nub gauging your face for a positive reaction, seeing your face contort and small whimpers leave your pretty lips guaranteed for him he was doing something right. He smirked to himself as he slid a finger down your slit to tease at your soaked hole, curious he slid a finger in continuing his actions on your clit, the feeling of your walls sucking and clamping around his finger made his softening cock harden almost immediately.

Slipping another finger inside his pace quickened along with the thumb on your clit, as he started to curl his fingers upwards to that sensitive spongy spot a moan erupted from your lips, “Cho, I'm gonna cum,” you whined out feeling your toes curl and your legs shake. “Cum for me baby.” he whimpered out, his whimper caused you to gush around his fingers, arousal slowly seeping down his knuckles as the movements on your bundle of nerves ceased.

“Did I do good?” Choso innocently questioned as he lovingly gazed into your eyes, “Were not done yet, Cho.” you pant quietly as he sat up slowly, you ushered yourself onto his lap, not forgetting to discard the soaked panties beforehand, you mewled at the feeling of his hardened cock slipping beneath your soaked folds, Choso groaned as he felt the wet friction of your folds against his sensitive dick. Your hand reached down between your pelvises as you lightly gripped the base of his weeping cock sliding the fat tip through your folds before ultimately sliding it inside, you both moaned in tandem when you finally bottomed out.

Poor Choso was barely keeping it together when you bottomed out, a hot whimpering mess as his hand gripped the plush fatness of your waist, “Fuck fuck.. Please move please..” he whined pathetically as your hands found a home on his chest, with a strained moan you began to rise up and down on his thick cock. “Agh, fuck you're so big,” you mewled quietly as you continued your grinding motion, your head lolled forward to rest your forehead against his. Choso’s eyes were squeezed shut, he was trying his best not to cum right then and there the combination of your cunt squeezing him, your moans and your scent was too much for him to handle. “Shit, please I don't wanna cum yet..” he moaned out to you, “Wanna make you cum first..” he said his hand gripping the fat of your ass.

Your hips began to grind at a faster pace, and hearing him say his only goal was to pleasure you made you even more ambitious to make him cum. “cho, touch my clit please,” you grunted out as Choso hurriedly moved his hand to rub tight circles on your pulsing clit, “fuck fuck fuck!” you exclaimed as you hands slipped accidentally brushing along choso’s erect nipples, a pang of electricity shot through his body as he let out a guttural moan, of course this didn't go unnoticed by you so your finger pinched his pink nipples. “That feel good Cho?” you teased through your moan.

“ ‘m-mhm please!” he whined rather loudly as he began to piston his hips into your own movements, the movement of his cock dragging deliciously against your walls and the calloused hand rubbing your clit was too much for you to handle. “shit cho, I'm gonna cum,” you said beginning to twist his nipples lightly, “m-me to-” he was cut off by a certain clench of your walls as his thrusts became sloppy and your cum gushed around him, strings of white hot cum painted your walls as your grinding came to a halt.

Choso panted falling onto his back and you collapsed on his chest, his cock twitched slowly slipping out of your aching cunt, dribbles of his cum seeping on his softening dick. “Will you answer my question now?” Choso chuckled out of breath, you peered up at his blissed fucked out face with a weak smile.

“I love you Choso.”

a/n: (this was my first time writing a cc smut I hope I did good, thank you sm for all the love on pt. 1 ill try to put out stuff quicker <3

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Curiosity kills the cat | n.r x w.m

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: beefy!Nat, oral sex, strap on use, mild degradation, praise kink, mentions of aftercare, daddy kink, a bit of breeding kink

Summary: Wanda is intrigued by the intricacies of filming a sex video and ended up asking Natasha if she will be up for it?

A/N: so this is based on a request and tbh, I don't know if this turned out good. So please let me know your thoughts! 🤞 AND sorry if there are any mistakes. ✌️

╰┈➤ Masterlist

Receiving fancy gifts always feels strange to Wanda because she and her brother grew up without much money. Her family couldn't buy expensive stuff, even though her parents worked to make sure they had enough food. So, Wanda learned at an early age to be careful with money and practical with her expenses. That's why it overwhelms her a bit whenever Natasha showers her with gifts on random days. She knows that Natasha tends to buy stuff that is on the expensive side, and she almost wants to tell Nat to stop buying her things. But there is a part of her that feels giddy at Natasha's grand gestures as it makes her feel really special.

Natasha's latest gift is a digital camera. Wanda knew it's expensive upon noticing the brand, and she knew for sure that it was the latest model.

"I saw how you take good pictures of Liho on your phone, and I think you have a talent for photography. You should pursue or discover that side of yourself more," Natasha lovingly encouraged her girlfriend.

Wanda bit her lips at Natasha's high praise and observant skill. "You didn't have to buy me a camera. But thank you, Nat."

"Don't worry, baby. I just want to support your interests in life. Now go on and take more pictures of Liho!"

Natasha unexpectedly found herself becoming the focal point of Wanda's photography, much to her chagrin. Natasha knew that she's good-looking however, she couldn't shake the discomfort of being photographed. Attempting to lighten her own mood, she playfully dubbed Wanda her "personal paparazzi". Natasha could never find it in her heart to tell Wanda to refrain from taking pictures of her, in fear that she may discourage her girlfriend.

On a sunny afternoon, Wanda searches for Pietro with the intention of borrowing his laptop so she can transfer all the photos and take a look at which ones are worth printing. She is planning on making an album filled with photos of everyone in the compound and a separate album as well for Natasha and their cat, Liho.

"Go ahead and get it in my room." Pietro told her and off she went to his room. Once she retrieved the laptop, she then went to their room, Natasha and hers, and plopped down on the bed. While the photos are being transferred, she can't help but be curious about Pietro's search history. She knows it's bad to snoop around but she's genuinely curious about her brother's interest in life.

To say that she's shock was an understatement. Pietro's history was filled with porn sites! Well, she can't fault his brother since he is a man and it is normal for them to watch porn. It is not her place to judge but she can't determine why there is a need for people to take videos of them having sex. She realised that these people are getting money out of this and being a porn actor pays well. So she just continued browsing and well, watching clips and it made her think of her girlfriend. Natasha has a body that is to die for, and capturing them on pictures or even videos makes Wanda's heart race with anticipation.

As if summoned, Natasha enters the room clad in tight shorts accentuating her round ass, strong thighs and a sports bra with thin straps barely containing her ample tits. Wanda hastily shuts off her laptop, blurting out, "Natasha! What are you doing here?"

Cringing at her own question, Wanda realizes Natasha will sense something is amiss, putting pressure on revealing her little secret.

Natasha arches an eyebrow at Wanda's odd behavior, stating, "Well, this is my room, and I cut short my training since I'm not in the mood."

Wanda merely nods, mildly irritating Natasha. "Why are you acting weird, and what's on that laptop, detka?"

"Nothing, nothing! I'm just transferring my photos. That's all." Wanda responded nervously.

"Can I see the photos?" Natasha challenged Wanda.

If Wanda could hide and run away, she would. But there is no winning when Natasha is on a mission to expose what she's keeping.

"Uhm. Sure. Just wait a second."

Loud pornographic sounds immediately fill the room the moment Wanda opens the laptop which makes her shut it off again. Horrified almost feels inadequate to describe what she's feeling. Now this is the right time to flung herself on the window and never come back. She's also too afraid to look at Natasha, in fear that she may be scolded by her current predicament.

"There are only two of us in this room and there is no doubt that neither of us just made that sound so give me the laptop." Natasha finally speaks up and demands Wanda to hand over the device. Wanda did want she's been told and just wants earth to swallow her whole.

Natasha opens the laptop and the filthy sounds come into life once again. The current page that she's in makes her wonder how Wanda discovered such a thing and what her motives are.

"Is there any reason why you are watching porn?" She asked softly to somehow calm Wanda's mind.

The poor girl is contemplating her answer and opens her mouth to say something but ends up shutting it. She responded instead with, "Are you mad at me?"

"No, Wanda." Natasha is quick to assure the girl. "I promise I am not mad at you. You can tell me what's on your mind."

Satisfied with Natasha's assurance, she then answers her question truthfully and solemnly, "It was not my intention to watch porn in the first place. I was just snooping around Pietro's history and I came across those websites. I became curious and watched some of the videos."

"These videos are educational at some point and there is nothing wrong with watching them but, if you have questions or want something, you can ask me. I won't bite, you know? Unless you want me to." Natasha sits down beside Wanda and puts in a little joke in the end to lighten up the mood.

"I know. I was just curious, that's all." Wanda responds with an air of relief knowing that she's not in trouble.

"You're okay. Let me give this back to you and I'm going to take a shower, okay?" Natasha smiles at Wanda and gives her a kiss before going to the bathroom.

Once Wanda is alone, she looks at the screen again and watches some of the previews. She smiled at herself and maybe something good could come out from watching these videos.

Feeling refreshed from a good bath, Natasha wears her boxers and a loose cropped top for a more casual and relaxed attire since it will be hours before they will be up for dinner. She searches for Wanda and finds her sitting on the sofa instead, with the camera situated on a tripod in front of her.

"Are you taking self portraits?" Natasha asks.

"I figured we can take some photos together? Only if you'd like." Wanda proposes.

Natasha almost hesitates but she sees something else from Wanda's plan and decides to just go with it. "Sure. How do you want me?"

"Just sit there and we'll just do little poses."

And so Wanda adjusts the settings of the camera and sits on Natasha's strong things.

Natasha's hands naturally land on Wanda's ass, gripping them affectionately.

"Hmm. This is nice." Natasha said with great enthusiasm.

"Yeah? You feel comfortable with this?"

"Ofcourse, baby. As long as I'm doing it with you."

Wanda blushes at Natasha's words and so far her plan is working well. She leans down to kiss Natasha and feels her hands travelling up and down her sides, then ending back on her ass.

"What if I want to do something more?" Wanda asks nervously.

A light bulb figuratively sparked at Natasha's head, confirming her suspicion of Wanda's proposal.

"What do you have in mind, love?" Natasha's hand travels up to the swell of Wanda's breasts, groping them gently which earns a small moan from the witch.

"I want to film us having sex. Would you be up for it?" Wanda asks reluctantly, not knowing whether Natasha will agree on her wish.

"Am I right to assume that you got this idea from those videos?" Natasha decides to tease her a bit. She likes it when Wanda comes up to her with ideas on how they can spice up their sex life. She knows plenty of kinks to be worked up with, however she also wants Wanda to feel comfortable with discovering what feels right for her.

"Uh-uh. I want to see how our bodies react to one another from a different perspective."

"I trust you and your ideas, baby."

Wanda beams at Natasha's agreement and kisses her senseless. Her mind is going on overdrive with scenarios that she wants to reenact which further intensifies her arousal.

"I want to eat you out first." Wanda whispers seductively at Natasha's ear, while grinding her body at her hips.

"Feeling confident tonight, detka? Go on, I'll let you have it." Natasha smirks at Wanda's sudden confidence. How she loves to witness her take charge of their relationship once in a while. But at the end of the day, she knows she'll have Wanda at her mercy anyway.

***

It's been days since they have done their impromptu sex recording session and both women haven't gotten the chance to review the video.

Natasha pulled out her own personal laptop and strictly instructed Wanda to only make one copy of the said video and it should only be on her own device. They can't risk the chance of leaking their own sex video now and for sure it will be the talk of the town if ever it comes to that.

Alone in their room, Wanda takes it upon herself to watch the recording. She suddenly feels like she's about to intrude on someone's sex life but it is literally their own so she shouldn't worry that much. Part of her feels ashamed of what they've done but looking back at Natasha's reaction to it and how she animalisticly fucked her, she realised in end that it's worth it.

The video was almost an hour long which felt longer at the time. They sometimes lose track of the time everytime Natasha is in the mood of good fucking and their love making session would last all night long. Wanda would never complain about being used like that especially if she's on the receiving end of pleasure. Though she also makes sure to return the favor to Natasha, but the ratio of orgasm is almost never equal between them.

Wanda hits the play button and she sees herself kissing Natasha's toned abdomen, leaving small hickeys on her porcelain skin and travelling upwards again to give a much needed attention to her perky nipples.

The sheer adoration on Wanda's eyes is so evident and she can't help but be aroused by her own actions towards Natasha. Her hand then ventures towards Natasha's left boob while she's sucking on the other one with much gusto. Natasha's boobs are bigger than hers and she can barely hold them in her small hands.

"Wanda, baby."

Natasha moans at how wonderful Wanda's tongue feels on her nipple. It sends a spike of pleasure down her clit and she ends up directing her hand down her crotch. Wanda understands what Natasha wants right away and kneels in front of her clothed pussy instead. She drags the boxers down her legs and is pleased to see that her lover is not wearing any underwear at all.

"You're so wet for me, daddy."

"All for you, my love."

Wanda wasted no time and dived right in on Natasha's enlarged clit. She can almost feel it throb at every passing lick and marvels at how sensitive it is.

"Right there! So good, baby."

The angle of the camera captures the whole view of Natasha's toned upper body, Wanda can clearly see how her abs flexes at each deep in take of breaths and her chest would rise and fall from the intense pleasure within her core. Her left hand clutches on Wanda's hair and pushes her head deeper into her pussy, fully assaulting the aching bud.

Wanda penetrates Natasha's entrance with three fingers without warning and her eyes flew open, adjusting herself at the sudden spike of pleasure.

"Fuck!" Natasha screams, eyes rolling at the back of her head, and her back arching away from the sofa. Both of her hands now are gripping Wanda's head and her legs are perched on her shoulders, stabilising her upper body.

The deep guttural moans that are coming from Natasha's mouth makes Wanda's pussy clench on nothing. She's feeling more eager now on making Natasha cum, so she herself can get her own release. She doubled her efforts on sucking Natasha's clit and within the next seconds, Natasha's body is shaking and is now sitting in an upright position while mumbling, "I'm cumming! I'm cum–!"

Wanda's screen shows Natasha's chest, how it rises and falls at every deep breaths, her tits and abdomen littered with small, dark hickeys and her arms are splayed out to her side. What a fucking sight to see. Wanda pauses the video to admire her lover even more and takes pride at reducing Natasha into this state.

"Satisfied?" Wanda asked with a smug look on her face.

"Very. Come up here." Natasha demanded and Wanda scrambled off the floor to straddle her thighs once again.

"Can you grab the strap on for me? I want you to ride me while you're facing the camera."

Red wisps of magic appear on Wanda's fingertips then the harness together with its dildo lands on the sofa.

"Good girl. That magic of yours is real handly."

Wanda momentarily stands up while Natasha secures the harness around her hips and attaches the toy on her crotch.

"Come on. Ride daddy's cock the way you like it."

The witch positions herself and straddling Natasha's thighs while facing the camera. She sinks in slowly at the 8-inch dildo and oh, the stretch feels so good and the burn is intensely satisfying. Natasha holds Wanda's waist to guide her down, without moving her hips first to make sure that Wanda is well adjusted.

"God, daddy. You're so big. I love it so much."

Wanda whimpers the moment the whole length is situated within her. Her movements are slow at first, then gradually picking up her pace once the mild pain subsided. Her arms are pinned by one of Natasha's hands while the other one is gripping her waist.

"Sweet baby, you look so fucking good like this. Lean down on my chest, sweetheart."

Wanda's back hasn't even touched Natasha's chest yet but she starts pounding into her like there is no tomorrow.

"Daddy! Daddy! Fuck! Harder harder!"

"You like being fucked like this, huh? That's my good girl."

At this point, Wanda is completely entranced by their love making. The voyeuristic pleasure of simultaneously seeing and feeling the tenderness and roughness of Natasha's touch, how her pussy stretches to accommodate the girth and length of her cock, and oh– her own moans is a clear reflection of how good Natasha is fucking her. Her gaze focuses back to the video where the tripod was moved to the side. Wanda is now kneeling on the sofa, legs wide open and Natasha is fucking her roughly from the back.

"This pussy is mine to fuck and abuse, yes?"

"Yes! Yes! This pussy is yours to abuse. Faster, please!"

Witnessing her own submission to Natasha is both daunting and thrilling. Natasha holds the exclusive privilege of delving into her innermost desires, unravelling her lust in a simple command that would leave her begging for more.

The bruising grip of her lover on her waist and the way she's being manhandled should be alarming, yet all she sees and feels is comfort. There is a sense of comfort in knowing that Natasha will take care of her and ultimately love her throughout their relationship. There is no other person in this world that she could trust other than Natasha Romanoff.

"If I had a dick, I know I'll be coming all over you. Gonna breed you like slut until you pass out!"

"You're gonna make me cum! Ahh!"

"Fucking hell, Wanda. That's it. Cum on my cock."

Wanda's heart swells even more at seeing Natasha at how she takes good care of her, especially right after an intense lovemaking. She makes sure to put Wanda's comfort above anything else. Whispers of sweet nothings to bring her down from such a soaring high pleasure and gentle kisses to calm her racing heart.

"You look so beautiful, detka. I'm so lucky to have you."

"I love you so much, Natty."

"I love you too, baby. Come on, let's get you cleaned up before we head down for a nap."

As the video nears its end, with them no longer in frame, Wanda directs her attention to the background objects. It's at this moment that she notices a small green-eyed cat loafing at the far end of the sofa, evidently basking in its own bubble.

She wonders, was Liho present the entire duration of them having sex? Wanda rewinds the video and, to her surprise, discovers that the cat was indeed a silent observer throughout, from the beginning to the end.

"Damn it, Liho!"

[fluentmoviequoter]

My Home

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x (shy-ish)fem!reader

Summary: You are Deacon's favorite neighbour, but when you start receiving threats, he notices a change in you. While he and his team search for answers, you are attacked. Deacon returns home to find you and come to some realisations of his own.

Warnings: fluff then angst then back to fluff, descriptive threats and violence against reader (nothing too serious, though), Deacon gets angry and protective

Word Count: 4.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Moving to a new place is never easy, but when you’re on the shyer side, it becomes infinitely more difficult. When you move into your new home in Los Angeles, you are careful about who you choose to introduce yourself to. One neighbour stands out; you see him leaving and returning at odd hours, often wearing a shirt with ‘L.A.P.D.’ printed on it. When he notices you in your yard or getting out of your car, he smiles or waves, and you return it, albeit shyly. He is the only neighbour you think about and actually want to talk to. 

So, now that your boxes are unpacked and your spaces are beginning to feel like your own, you decide to bake him a few treats and put together a gift basket. He welcomed you without bombarding questions or making you nervous, and you appreciate that. And his attractiveness certainly doesn’t hurt your opinion of him.

Crossing the road carefully, you balance the finished basket in your arms. There are baked goods, cookies, a batch of scones, and a casserole at the bottom, with some store-bought items you think anyone would appreciate. You saw him arrive home about an hour ago, just after you removed the scones from the oven. Taking a deep breath, you raise one hand and knock on his door, silently praying that you are right about him and that he is as kind as you believe he will be. The door opens quickly, and he smiles at you. You can’t stop your matching smile as it grows, nor do you want to.

“Hi,” you say, willing your voice to remain steady as you introduce yourself.

“Pretty name,” he murmurs. “I’m David, but my friends call me Deacon.”

“Then what I should I call you?”

His eyebrows raise as his smile shifts, crooked at his amusement. “Deacon,” he decides, nodding once.

“Nice to meet you, Deacon. I’m sure you’ve seen me – or maybe you haven’t – but I just moved in across the street a few weeks ago. I wanted to do a little something for my new neighbours, so I brought you this,” you say, offering him the basket, though his eyes remain on your face as he accepts it. “I hope you like it.”

“Thank you,” he says, trying to catch your eyes again.

You shy away slightly with his full attention on you, though you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“And I have noticed you,” Deacon adds. “Who wouldn’t?”

Heat crawls up your neck, and your shoes are suddenly worthy of all your attention. Deacon chuckles, turning to set the basket down as he treats it with such care you suddenly wonder what it would be like to be held by him.

“You’re a little shy, aren’t you?” Deacon asks.

It doesn’t sound right; when other people ask, it’s a condescending or pity-filled question, but when Deacon asks, it seems like he’s asking about your favourite colour. He treats the topic like it’s just another mundane fact about you.

Nodding, you force your eyes back to his face. “I can be.”

“I’ll try not to tease you, then. Too much.”

“Seems like you’re starting early.”

You smile, and Deacon can barely handle it. Your personality drew him in, even when he only knew you from across the street. Your shy greetings and kindness awe him; Deacon doesn’t understand how someone who gets shy so quickly can also be so kind. You’re like a drop of sunlight, and Deacon has learned to appreciate each drop he can find.

✯✯✯✯✯

After giving Deacon the gift basket, and avoiding his questioning as to who else received one, you grow closer daily. Instead of waving when he gets home, Deacon jogs across the street and stands in your yard to talk to you. He asks you about your day and if you’ve baked anything else. He remains true to his word, only teasing you occasionally when you get shy.

As you return home, Deacon is waiting in front of your door. He walks to your car, opening your door after you turn the ignition off.

“You’re late,” he says, offering a hand as he helps you out.

“I needed groceries,” you argue, smiling as you squeeze his hand in thanks.

You hop out of the car and move to the back, revealing numerous bags.

“However,” you begin, turning toward him with pure sunshine in your eyes. “I don’t think I can eat this entire recipe by myself.”

Deacon’s brows furrow and your smile drops slightly, prepared to retract your comment.

“Well, who could turn down an invitation like that? Does the smile come with the meal?”

You press your shoulder to your cheek, hiding as you turn away from him.

“How are you going to survive tonight?” Deacon asks playfully.

“I also got you a new flowerpot, because the ones on your porch are outgrowing the vase. If you don’t like it, I can get you another one.”

“It’s perfect.”

“You haven’t seen it.”

“You bought it. It’s perfect.”

Deacon decides to keep you company while you cook, though you think he’s more efficient in distracting you. He helps you chop vegetables and mix spices, but when his arm brushes against yours, you lose your train of thought and stop talking in the middle of a sentence.

Deacon notices and smiles but decides saying anything would fall into the ‘teasing too much’ category. And if he accidentally touches you again, it seems like a complete accident.

“You’re the best neighbour ever,” Deacon praises after he takes the first bite.

“I think you are,” you argue.

“You don’t know any other neighbours,” Deacon says, pointing at you with his fork.

“Who needs more than you?”

Deacon smiles, his brows raising at your boldness. When he leaves after helping you clean up, he hugs you tightly and promises to cook for you as soon as he has time.

“So, when you retire?” you joke.

“Just for that comment, we’re setting a date,” Deacon decides, opening the calendar on his phone. “Next Friday. That work for you?”

“That’s perfect.”

Deacon turns to return home, and you call his name, waiting for him to turn around before you speak.

“Thank you.”

“It’s what the best neighbours are for!” he yells, winking at you and laughing when you duck your chin to hide your face.

✯✯✯✯✯

The morning after your dinner with Deacon, you wake with a smile. His car is gone; he told you he was leaving early for a 24-hour shift. You tried to get him home early, but he said time with you was more important than sleep.

When you walk into your kitchen, you see the flowerpot you got for Deacon and decide to surprise him by transplanting his plant so it has room to grow and finding the perfect spot to place it. You toss a pair of gloves, a small trowel and an old rag into the container before locking your front door and walking toward Deacon’s house. Stopping in your driveway, you set everything down to remove a piece of paper from under your windshield wiper.

NOT WITH A BANG BUT WITH A WHIMPER

where women belong

The papers are haphazardly taped together: the concluding line of T.S. Eliot’s “The Hollow Men” and three additional words. Together, the sentence doesn’t mean anything to you until you read the last line, clumsily added in bold block letters.

no more policeman

You swallow harshly, glancing around. It’s another ordinary day in the neighbourhood as you hold a threatening note that someone somehow placed less than thirty feet from your front door without being noticed. Sliding the paper in your pocket, you look between Deacon’s house and the flowerpot. 

“No more policeman,” you repeat to yourself. “But the policeman isn’t home.”

To get your mind off the note and Deacon, you continue your walk to his porch and kneel as you begin working. It doesn’t take too long, but the process is therapeutic while it lasts.

There’s probably a metaphor about outgrowing your old surroundings or finding bigger, better things, but you're not in the mood to appreciate it. Once you’re finished, you can only think about the paper in your pocket. Stepping back to ensure the plant looks good in its new location, you nod to yourself and remove your gloves, gathering your things to return to your empty house.

Deacon can never find out about the note; no one can. As far as you can tell, after hours of staring at it, the message means you will end not with a bang but with a whimper unless you stop talking to Deacon. You pray to find a different meaning, but you only know one policeman and the singular tense makes you think that’s who it’s about.

Spending the first night alone after receiving the threat is not enjoyable, and your fear multiplies when you remember that Deacon is at work all night. Finally falling into a fitful sleep, you dream of Deacon and a time when nothing separates your lives.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, Deacon still isn’t back when you wake. Moving slowly, you enter your kitchen and prepare far more food than you can eat alone. Someone rings the doorbell, and when you finally reach it, pulling it ajar slowly, a package is in the middle of your doormat. You rip it open, your heart falling when you see the paper within.

good job not telling anyone. 

Friends can stay close until they learn too much, for that is when enemies are formed.

The first line feels like a bullet ripping through you: whoever this is can see you. If they know you haven’t told anyone, they know everything you have or haven’t done recently. Who knows how long they have been watching you.

You hear Deacon’s car before you see it, rushing to stash the new note with the other. Friends can stay close, but you can’t alert Deacon that anything is wrong. You don’t know what to do. If you weren’t aware that someone was watching you, you would tell Deacon and pray that everything worked out in the end, but now you’re putting Deacon in the line of fire, which is something he chooses to do at work, not at home.

“Good morning!” he calls as he jogs across the street.

“Morning,” you answer, letting him in before returning to the kitchen to finish cooking.

Deacon’s brows furrow at your lack of enthusiasm. You usually act like you haven’t seen him in years, even if it’s been mere minutes.

“Everything go alright without me last night?” Deacon asks, helping himself to your fridge.

You hum something like “mmhmm,” and that’s all Deacon gets. He closes the fridge a bit too roughly, and you jump.

“Sorry,” Deacon says quietly.

“’S okay,” you mumble. “How was work?”

“Pretty good. There was a bank robbery in the hills with a bunch of hostages, but other than that it was pretty quiet.”

You nod, not looking in his direction. 

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” he asks gently.

“I’m good,” you answer, sending him a close-lipped smile before sliding a plate in front of him. “Glad work went well.”

A car door closes outside, and you flinch. Deacon knows your shyness inside and out, but this jumpiness seems more related to fear.

“A few of the guys from my team and I are going out to dinner tonight, you should come,” Deacon offers, watching your eyes dart past him.

“Um, I actually have a few things to do tonight, but thank you for the invite,” you decline.

“That's fine,” Deacon says, smiling when you look in his direction again. “But it’s an open invite, so if you change your mind let me know.”

You nod, wiping an invisible stain on the table before you.

“It looks great by the way.”

“What does?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you finally look him in the eye.

“My plant. You have good taste; I never would have considered moving it there.”

Your shoulders fold inward, your body physically shrinking, which scares Deacon. He’s prepared to hold your face in one place to keep your attention and get answers, even though he’d be breaking his promise about abusing your shyness. Someone knocks, and your eyes slam shut as you take a shaky breath.

“I’ll get it,” Deacon offers, tossing his napkin onto the table.

“No, it’s fine,” you whisper, but Deacon raises his eyebrows and points at you, enough of a warning that you fall back into your seat.

He returns a moment later and stops in the doorway, looking at you.

“Pizza delivery had the wrong house.”

“Who orders pizza this early?” you wonder aloud.

Deacon’s lips twitch at the reminder of your usual self. His phone rings, and you turn away quickly, like the sound prefaces something far more dangerous. Deacon focuses on you as he answers, sighing when Hondo asks him to return to the station.

“What are you doing tonight?” Deacon inquires as he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Running errands,” you lie.

“I have to go back to work but call if you need anything. Anything at all.”

You nod and wait for the sound of Deacon’s car to fade before cleaning up the breakfast mess. Deacon usually helps, but when he’s called in, you’re more than happy to do it alone, grateful for the time you spend with him. Today, though, you want to call him, beg him to come back and tell him everything.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Because it’s stupid,” Deacon snaps.

Street’s eyes widen as he raises his hands. “Sorry.”

“What’s up with you?” Hondo asks, not unkind but unwilling to skirt around the fact that something is bothering Deacon and affecting his ability to be part of the team.

Deacon sighs. “My neighbour. She’s not acting like herself, and I think she lied to me about where she was going.”

“Maybe she has a hot date,” Street says before rushing to say, “Kidding.”

Deacon manages a sad chuckle before responding, “I wish that was it. She can be shy, but she's always kind and happy. Today she's been jumpy and scared. Every unexpected sound seemed to terrify her.”

“Wait, sunny neighbour from across the street?” Hondo clarifies. Deacon nods and Hondo asks, “Should we do something?”

“You know her?” Luca asks Hondo.

“I’ve met her twice. She barely talks to me, but that doesn’t sound like her. If something upset her enough to scare her like that and keep her from telling the one person she doesn’t get that shy around, it’s serious.”

“Tell us what to do and we’re on it, Deac,” Street offers.

“I need to know if anyone has contacted her lately,” Deacon begins.

“Phone records?” Luca asks. “We can find out if anyone on the street has security cams, too.”

“It’s a start,” Deacon replies. “Thanks, guys.”

Hondo claps Deacon’s shoulder, nodding a silent promise that they’ll do anything to help.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is silent. The television couldn’t hold your attention, so you switched it off and decided staring into our backyard would be a better idea. Mid-day, there isn’t much to see in terms of suburban Los Angeles wildlife. The wind blows slightly, so you watch the grass, wishing you felt safe enough to sit outside to read or open the window and bake.

Glass shattering pulls you from your daydream and grass-watching. Stepping back from the window, you gauge the distance between yourself, the kitchen knives on the counter, and the nearest exit. Before you can decide which direction to move, someone appears in the doorway, exiting the hall.

A deep chuckle shakes you to your core, and you have to fight to keep your eyes open when he rumbles, “This is how the world ends.”

Deep down, you know it’s a bad idea, but you duck to the side and try to beat him to the door. You’re nearly there, close enough that you can taste freedom when an arm wraps around your waist, your ribs practically creaking as he hauls you backwards.

“No,” you cry, digging your fingers into the forearm pressed against your stomach.

“Yes,” he replies, turning and releasing you quickly so you crash into the edge of your kitchen counter.

Turning toward him, you try to round the corner and grab a knife, but he slips his gloved hand over your cheek and into your hair, pulling it by the roots to tilt your head back. Attempting to scratch his face and impair his vision, you raise to your tiptoes and smack your hand across his face, but the mask he’s wearing harms your hand far worse than you managed to hurt him.

Gasping as a tear rolls over your cheek, he hooks a foot behind your ankles, knocking your legs out from under you as he holds you up by your hair.

“Not with a bang,” he whispers.

“What do you want?” you choke out, tears falling freely at the pain and fear you’re experiencing.

“I want my neighbourhood back,” he growls, “and if everyone here has to go out with a whimper, so be it.”

You want to ask more questions, but he jerks his elbow back before throwing you to the ground. Your shoulder and hip collide with the floor first, followed by the side of your head. Curling in on yourself, you try to find a plan to get out of this situation, but he’s bigger than you, stronger, and comes prepared for a fight.

“You can have the neighbourhood,” you try.

“Not with people like you, and the Duncans, and the cop. This was my turf, my family's ground, and you stole it!”

He uses the heel of his boot to roll you over, stepping on your hip as he follows your movement. Standing above you, with his feet beside your hips, you could try to kick him from behind, but he kneels before you have a chance. Holding your hips down with his knees, he raises his hands to hold either side of your head.

“If I have to come back again, you won’t be so lucky.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember whose land this is,” he whispers before lifting your head.

You fight to resist the movement, but he pulls your neck up before pushing his hands back down forcefully, cracking your head against the floor and silencing everything.

After you lose consciousness, he stands, wipes his hands together and leaves through the broken window he used to enter.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Deacon, we got something,” Street says, approaching with a tablet.

He connects to a larger screen, and a grainy video camera recording appears.

“This is from one of your neighbors’ doorbell cams. We can’t see great, but I think it’s a start.”

The video begins, and a large man carrying an envelope walks by on the sidewalk. He asks a man standing in the driveway which house you live in, thanking him quickly before disappearing.

“He doesn’t appear on any other cameras that night,” Luca adds. “But the next day, your camera caught something, Deac.”

“My camera? It didn’t get anything the first time, but it did the second,” Deacon clarifies. “How did that happen?”

“He probably went a different way or didn’t trigger the motion capture,” Hondo answers, gesturing toward the screen.

Luca plays the video, and a man with a similar build walks to your door, knocking as he leaves a package. It’s fuzzy, but you open the door and the package, obviously not pleased by what you read. The video segment ends, and the camera stops recording until Deacon arrives home.

“Wait, fast-forward,” Deacon requests. “I went to her house that day and someone else showed up.”

Luca navigates to the “pizza man” that Deacon met, and they all look at each other in shock when they notice it’s the same man.

“You’ve seen him, Deac,” Hondo says. “Get to the sketch artist and we’ll start working.”

“And if it’s not quick?”

“We’ll stay as long as you need us, Deacon,” Street promises.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you come to, your head pounds, and you can’t hear anything past your heartbeat in your ears. Lying still, you focus on taking steady breaths and staying calm. It doesn’t work very well because your body wants to panic and fall apart simultaneously. When your hearing returns, you take a minute to ensure everything feels okay. Your fingers, toes, arms and legs move when you want them to, and although you know you probably shouldn’t move your head yet, you sit up.

Breathing through the pain, you take your time standing, pulling yourself up with the counter above you. When you’re upright, and the dizziness fades to a dull ache in the back of your skull, you look around but don’t see your phone anywhere. With no choice and an intense need for Deacon, you leave. His car is gone, but you continue to his door anyway, sitting beside his recently re-potted plant and closing your eyes as you wait.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We just released the sketch to the press and we’re running it through all of our databases,” Hicks says, joining the search for your source of fear.

“She isn’t answering her phone,” Deacon grumbles.

“Go check on her, Deac, we’ll keep you in the loop.”

Deacon nods, rushing to the locker room and gathering his things before leaving, desperate to see you and promise everything will be alright. He pulls into his driveway and turns toward your house, stopping when he hears a short whine behind him. You’re on his porch, slumped against the wall and broken. There’s no blood visible, but bruises are forming along your hairline and over your temples, and your consciousness appears to be fading quickly.

Deacon stoops, using a gentle finger to move your head slowly. You likely have a concussion, but he needs to get you inside, so he moves an arm behind your neck, keeping your head in line with your spine as he carries you into his house. Setting you on the couch, he whispers that he’ll be right back before gathering a first aid kit and a bag of ice wrapped in a dish towel.

“Hey,” he murmurs, watching your eyes flutter open. “You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Where’s it hurt?”

“Ribs. My head.”

Deacon holds your shoulder down to keep you from moving too suddenly. He lays the covered ice over your head before pushing your shirt up to inspect your stomach and ribs. Dark bruises cover most of your skin, and although he can’t see, he’s sure they wrap around your back. A scrape over your belly button makes Deacon think that your assailant was wearing a watch or some other abrasive jewellery. His jaw clenches, holding tight as he surveys your skin with darkened eyes. His hands remain gentle, although his outward calmness is only for your benefit. Taking your hand in his, he applies a cooling antibiotic ointment to the scrapes across your palm before wrapping a bandage around it.

“He told me not to tell you,” you say, your eyes now open and on Deacon. “There were notes and then he broke a window to get in today.”

“Is he still in your house? Around here?” Deacon demands.

“No. He left a while ago.”

“How long have you been waiting?”

You shrug, and the movement that makes you tense in pain. Deacon smooths his hand over your shoulder, attempting to calm you even as his anger and protectiveness swell. He fails to understand how or why someone could do this to you.

He stays in your sight as he applies ointment to your bruises, and Deacon looks angry because he’s fiercely protective. He is just as handsome as usual, if not more so, you think.

“I’m going to get my phone, I’ll be right back,” he tells you.

You nod, a tear slipping past your waterline as he leaves. Everything hurts, and you want to let Deacon hold you, but he’s on a mission.

Deacon texts his team that you’re injured but safe with him. Hondo answers that they’re chasing a few leads, but they’ll keep him updated before reminding him not to leave your sight. You may be too shy to admit it, but you need Deacon now.

Waiting for Deacon, you feel him brush your tears away before you fall asleep. Holding you carefully, Deacon moves you to his bed, sitting at your side all night, an eye trained on the window in case anyone is stupid enough to come for you again. He raises your bandaged hand to his lips, promising to keep you safe.

✯✯✯✯✯

Waking, you feel a pillow under your head that wasn’t there before. The sound of water draws your attention as you realise you are in Deacon’s bed. Standing, you groan, stiff, swollen, and bruised, as you enter Deacon’s hallway to find him. His voice greets you before you see him, and you’ve yet to see this side of him.

“Can you make it stick?” Deacon demands. “Because a woman that I care deeply about is covered in bruises and concussed, so he is going to pay for it one way or another. I don't care who bought this land after the Gold Rush.”

You stop in the doorway, sending him a small smile when he notices you.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice softer as he hangs up. He approaches you, offering his hands and chiding, “You shouldn’t be up.”

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you whisper, taking his hands. “Did you find him?”

Deacon nods, leading you to the couch and helping you sit against a large pile of pillows and blankets. “He- apparently his family bought a huge plot of land here, and a few years ago the government seized it to make up for back taxes owed, and this guy isn't happy about all the people living on 'his family's land.' We’ll make sure he gets what he deserves for what he did to you, though. Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, one hand still in Deacon’s.

“What do you need?”

“You,” you whisper, looking up at him.

Deacon smiles, sitting beside you and letting you fold into his arms. Your head finds its spot against his shoulder as you take his hand in yours, leaning against him. His arm wraps around your back, mindful of your bruises as he holds you. In his grasp, you are safe and content, and nothing else matters.

“It’s time for more pain medicine,” Deacon reminds you.

“I’m okay right now.”

You nuzzle closer against him, your legs draped over his lap as he kisses your forehead.

“I think he thought we were together,” you admit.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now.”

You lapse into silence, toying with Deacon’s fingers as his hand rubs gently against your side. 

“As if you’d go for me. You’re too pretty,” you say, your voice an addicting mix between shy and sunny.

Part of Deacon wants to drive to the station and question the man who did this himself, but your presence in his arms and your voice remind him where he belongs: with you.

“You’re the pretty one,” he says, the teasing lilt you’ve grown to love lacing each word.

“Even covered in bruises?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“But you are now,” you reply, looking up at Deacon.

“You’re my favourite neighbour.”

“I want to be more,” you say boldly, smiling as Deacon smiles.

“Right now?” he asks, pulling you closer by your hands.

“Right now,” you confirm.

Deacon pulls you into a soft, slow kiss. You may have started as Deacon’s neighbour, but it didn’t take long to realise he is your home. And if your home decides to rough up the man who tried to take you from him, you’ll understand.

[lilacxoz]

More Intimate~ Alhaitham

No implied gender, female genitalia

Boyfriend!alhaitham, bit of degradation, creampie, Alhaitham is a sex god.

You stare off into the widespread ocean, a gentle breeze picking up and blowing through your white maxi floral printed dress; the sun making the blue flowers sparkle.

You had to arrive back home in Mondstat in two days since vacation for the scholars was in full swing. The only thing you'd miss was your beloved boyfriend, a man who was very hard to peruse. You remember the first time you confessed to him; he had told you how relationships weren't his thing and he'd rather keep to himself. But after that confession, you seemed to have piqued his interest. After a few months after that confession, he seemed to be more comfortable around you. And since then, he has now been an amazing boyfriend.

You took in a fresh breath of air, the hot sun beaming down on you in a blissful way. "You look something out of a romance novel," you hear a familiar voice say from behind you. You turn around to be met with those beautiful aquatic eyes that never failed to make you swoon. He stood before you, his arms crossed over his chest as the most subtle smile curves his lips up.

"I didn't know you were such a complimenter," you tease, taking notice of the book in his hand. You point to it, a raised eyebrow crossing you face, "The Hidden Secrets of Intimacy?"

You watch as his cheeks grow pink as he hastily slips the book in his personal belongings, uttering a few incoherent words to himself. "It's nothing, just something I picked up at the library." You let a small giggle escape, it was no surprise that your beloved Alhaitham was new to love and all the different forms of it.

"So you were learning about intimacy?" You ask with a small smirk, crossing your own petite arms over your chest. Alhaitham was a good six foot tall, easily towering over your frame. At first, you found this intimidating, but now you find it endearing.

"No I was learning about the prophecy of a persons devotion and benevolence," he says in a monotone voice, giving you a straight face. You roll your eyes, flicking his forehead in result to your annoyance.

"You don't have to get so grammatical on me, just admit you were learning about sex," you say, taking his hand in yours as you lead him further down the port and towards the docks. "I don't know why you can't just be honest with me when you're embarrassed. Like that one time, instead of admitting you were wrong you insisted to buy me a lot of expensive things," you pointed out, making the ash haired scribe roll his eyes.

"Like you can talk," he scoffs, cupping your cheek with his hand as he leans down just a bit, "you always run away when you get embarrassed."

You let out a scoff of your own at his correct yet bold statement. He watches as your face turns a crimson red, a look of triumph glossing over his features. He decides to have more fun teasing you; pulling you close to him by the hips as he turns you so he's hugging you from behind. He knows how you feel about public affection and how embarrassed it makes you. You'd always ask him how he could be so publicly affectionate when he was, to which he'd always respond with "because I do what I want, I'm not gonna let a few stares change that."

"'Haitham!" You whine, trying to squirm from his grasps but it was a failed attempt. He places kisses in the crevices of your neck, his arms snug around the indent in your waist.

"Shhh, causing a ruckus will only make more people stare," he whispers. You let yourself relax, he wasn't going to let up soon so you'd just have to bare the embarrassment. He takes a hand and sweeps your hair to one side of your head so he can get a better view of your neck. "Why does publicity like this always make you embarrassed?" He whispers, placing a gentle kiss to your neck.

"I don't know, just the thought of so many eyes on us; I don't know how it doesn't make you feel a little anxious," you admit, placing a hand over the arms he has wrapped around you.

"Does it make you uncomfortable? Because I could stop, I don't want to, but I will." He leans over you a bit to see your face, to which you just shook your head in response.

"It's fine, just something I really need to get used to," you say as you turn around in his arms, planting a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Hey, Kaveh is supposed to be gone today right?" You ask as you run your fingers through the hairs on the back of his neck. He gives you a perplexed expression before a small smirk forms on his face.

"How bold of you, why don't we eat all of his pizza as well," he suggests to which you nod. You found that one of Alhaitham's favorite pass times is making his roommates life inconvenient.

And so the two of you set off to Alhaitham's shared town home, watching him fumble with his keys a bit before finally unlocking the door. You had been in their home several times, but never alone with your boyfriend like this in the home. Despite the relationship between you two standing for four months already; you both have only had sex twice, each time being in your small apartment because Kaveh was at their home with a girl of his own.

"You want any juice or water? We could indulge in his apple juice?" You shake your head with a giggle, as much as you loved tormenting Kaveh and Alhaithem by helping them with their pranks, you didn't want to eat all of his food.

You sat on the countertop next to the fridge while you watched your boyfriend open the pizza box on the kitchen island in front of you. He hands you a slice before setting his hands on your thighs, accepting the first bite in the pizza that you offer being taking the second.

"So, you have your bags packed yet for your trip? it's a really long trip, you sure you want to make it?" You smile at his expression, he was always so caring of you and you loved that. He'd tell you he cared so much because it would be inconvenient if something bad happened to you, but you knew better.

"I can make it, I haven't seen my mom or dad in a year, I think it's time I visit," you say, offering him another bite in the slice of pizza that he greatly accepts. "But the option for you to come is still on the table, I know you have work to do but can't you do work on the go or something? You know, like file paperwork or something like that?"

"I wish, but things have been a little hectic lately." You offer a small smile as you finish off the pizza, placing your hands over the ones he has on your thighs. "But look, you get the last days you have in Sumeru with me if you'll really miss me that much," he points out, rubbing a soft circle on your thigh with his thumb.

"I know, it's just-" you trail off, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue as your eyes drift off. He could tell you wanted to say something but we're unsure of it, and he didn't know why that was. He thought the both of you were comfortable enough to say everything, but lately he's noticed how you trail off mid-sentences sometimes.

"Why do you do that?" The question catches you a bit off guard as you meet his greyish eyes. "You don't finish sentences sometimes, like you want to say something. Just say it, it's not like the words will hurt me or you." You gulp at his call out, a little taken aback at how heeding he was.

"Well-" you suck in a breath, a blush blooming on your face. "It's just, we don't really get that intimate and I just don't know how to bring that whole subject up without getting embarrassed. So I was hoping that if you went on the trip with me that the moment would arise." His face goes blank before a smirk forms on his face as he stands up straight, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You have been acting weird because you're horny?" He gives a chuckle making you look up at him with an angry expression, your face beat red. "Sweet, you can ask me anything there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Yeah but you always make me feel embarrassed with your reactions, you could be a little more sensitive," you say, jumping off the counter and moving to walk out of the kitchen. He stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist, planting a kiss to the back of your neck.

"You know, I've been pretty pent up too. But I'll admit something to you too; I don't know how to initiate the first move because I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Your heart stops a beat at his confession, turning around to face him and wrap your arms around his neck.

"But you don't need to worry about that, I tell you when I'm uncomfortable so why wouldn't I about that?" He shrugs, to which you kiss his cheek with a giggle. "I guess we've both been a little scared of the whole intimacy thing." You decide to take the first step, gently connecting your lips to his. This seems to open a door within Alhaitham, because he pulls you closer by the hips, pressing you up against the fridge in a haste. His lips make the next attack, laching onto your neck as he isn't shy about making his mark.

You let out a soft whisper of his name, your hands scrunching up his skintight shirt as your body responds to his actions. His hands scrunch up your sundress to your hips, skillfully sliding his knee in between your legs to apply some friction to your aching need.

"W-We can't do this out here," you softly whisper, causing him to grunt in response. He detaches his lips from your neck, his eyes completely lusted over along with the pink dusting his cheeks. He drags you by your dress towards his room, pushing you up against his door once he gets it closed. He had a very spacious room, his own room having a sliding door that led to a tiny garden outside his bedroom. His bed was large and sat in the middle of the back wall, a dresser on the adjacent wall full of stacks of books as well as stacks scattered across the floor.

He began to undress you, slipping the straps off your body and letting your dress pool at your feet. His lips took the liberty off nibbling on your ear, his hands making quick work of your bra. Once he gets your bra unhooked he tosses it behind him, each hand cupping a mound. "Such a pretty girl," he whispers, lips moving back to your each most sensitive places on your neck and chest. You decide to take your turn on undressing, starting with his top, leaving only his skintight sleeveless turtleneck.

He began to assist you, taking off his sleeves before pulling you towards the bed. He sat down on the foot of the bed, pulling you onto him so you're straddling his thighs. "Tell me what you want," he asks, cupping your cheek with his hand. Moments like these-when he was in a good mood, he'd be so loving and affectionate with you; like his heart was made of sugar.

"I want you. I want you to fuck me, please." He smirks at that, tilting his head to the side.

"You'd like that huh?" You nod, planting a kiss to his cheek, and then neck, and then soon you both were desperately taking his top off. He flipped you around so you were laid on his bed, his head resting in the crevice of your neck while his hand slips it's way downwards. When you feel his finger gently slide along your slit, you let out a throaty gasp, body tending up from the suddenness.

"You don't want to have sensual, slow sex like all the other times we've done it?" You shake your head, you were gonna be gone for awhile and you wanted to remember the roughness and softness of him-wanted to be left knowing what happened instead of thinking about what happened.

"Good," he said as he thrusted two fingers inside your pussy, body tending up at first before relaxing against him. You let him take control of your body, the pleasure filling up your body like a flood. You let out a series of moans and whines, to which he drinks up each one with his lips attacking yours.

It didn't take long before your hands were coiling into his hair and your body arching against his, your sweet relief on the horizon. Alhaitham could tell you were close by the way your eyes screwed shut and your moans became raspy and whiny. He decided to have fun with you, pulling his fingers out and shoving them in your mouth. Your eyes widened in surprise and disappointment at the loss friction.

"What's the matter? Did you really think I'd let you cum so early? With out me?" He pulls his fingers out of your parted lips, moving his hand so it wraps around your neck, not blocking any airways. When you don't give a response he sublty tightens his grip on your neck, raising an eyebrow. "Use your words and respond."

"Yes, I hoped you would," you mumble, averting your eyes from his hard turquoise ones. He chuckles, releasing your neck and instead cupping your cheek.

"You hoped wrong sweetheart," he cooes, positioning himself as he uses his hands to free himself from his confinements. You stared at his beautiful pink tip, drinking in the sight of how it slightly curved up. You readied yourself once he aligned his tip to your entrance, your body impatiently waiting for him to bottom out.

He slipped his tip in before purposefully missing, earning a frustrated huff from you. He did the same over and over, coating his cock in your glistening wetness.

"'Haitham stop it," you whine, his face forming a shit-eating grin. He leans down towards your ear, purposefully missing again just to set you off a little more.

"Stop what?~" he cooes, leaning away to take in your irritated expression.

"Stop fucking around and fuck me like a man!" You finally yell, irritation burning your blood. Your words seem to shock him, his face contorting from shock to a bit of anger. You weren't ready for what happened next, his cock plunging deep inside so much further than you've ever felt.

"Fuck you like a man? If that's what you want than I want you to scream and whine like the pathetic slut you are," he whispers in your ear, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

His hands grip your wrists, pinning them above your head. His hips snap against yours, over and over again like a broken record. Your mouth went agape, quiet moans and whimpers escaping, your voice completely gone from how deliciously good he felt.

One particular hard thrust erupted a scream-like moan, your body hitching against his. Your hands tried to grasp onto something but he tightened his grip, grunting with each thrust.

"Tell me how good it feel, tell me how good I make you feel," he groans, hitting deeper and deeper until your legs start to shake.

"Fuck! You make me feel so fucking good," you moan, the pressure quickly building up so badly it hurts. He smirks in response, letting go of your wrists and instead pushing your knees up to your chest. The position hits you even deeper, your mouth left open as you let the pleasure consume you.

It was like time stopped, felt like your orgasm lasted for so long. Your vision went black, body shaking uncontrollably. Once you finally calmed down, your vision came back to you and your body stopped shaking. You didn't get the time to catch your breath because Alhaitham was always flipping you onto your stomach.

You were left with your ass up in the air, head buried into the sheets. "Just like that, take me all the way," he grunts from behind you, pounding himself back into you. You let out a strangled moan, the overstimulating sending you into overdrive.

His hand came down to rub your clit, your voice uncontrolled and coming out all cracked and raspy. "'M gonna cum inside, you'd like that won't you?" You nodded, hips meeting with each of his thrusts. It wasn't long before the overstimulation became too much, such a powerful orgasm on the rise.

The feeling of him shooting his cum inside of you was enough to set you off, your body curving into the mattress below. The room was filled with heavy breaths and quiet curses.

It took a few minutes before you were flipped around and gently laid against his bare chest. Your bodies glistened with sweat, your inner thighs wet with arousal and his cum. The feeling of it slipping out was enough to make a catholic have a heart attack.

"I'm glad we're agreeing sex needs to be more often," Alhaitham whispered, his hand slipping in between your thighs, slipping his fingers inside of you.

"Yeah like twice or three times a week, not every hour," you say, easily picking out the look of lust in his eyes.

"Just one more round, until you feel full of my cum."

[prodbymaui]

Breaking The Norm

just come into my arms, destroy me if you want

PAIRING: jeong jaehyun x reader

GENRE: the bad boy's good girl

WORD COUNT: 1.9k+ words

WARNINGS: brief deep throat, brief overstimulation, dirty talks, pet names, mentioned illegal racing

SYNOPSIS: Who would've thought a man so tough like Jaehyun has a thing for girls who's fond of cringy and cliché dramas?

A/N: Cross is mentioned but this one's more of domestic than Cross' fic, no gores and can be a stand-alone fic. With that being said, please enjoy Uno's fic!

A scowl leaves a print on your face. ''What the– she's walking out just like that?! They haven't even talked about it yet! She should've waited for his reason!''

Yoojin, the main character, refuses to listen as to why Haeso left her in the midst of her early pregnancy and only coming back 5 years later. Believing that he abandoned her, the pent up anger and grudge will probably cause them another 3-4 more episodes before straightening the curve and reconciling. What'll happen to their daughter along the way, that you're curious about.

Frustrated by how things ended in this episode, you turn off the tv and stomps your way out of the room, heading towards the kitchen where your boyfriend's in the middle of cooking a dish, probably your dinner.

''Learn to clean up your own mess.'' Jaehyun shakes his head before clicking his tongue and placing his phone on the counter beside the stove in a decent gap. It seems like he was on a call prior to your arrival. Wrapping your arms around him, you plant a kiss on his cheek, eliciting a chuckle.

''So you're out of your den, huh? Got sick of watching that cliché drama?'' He earns a smack. His arm is so full of muscles that it didn't do much than make him laugh again. Those tattoos covering the vastness of his skin are hard to ignore.

Jaehyun's right though, it is cliché. That doesn't change the fact that he watches it with you in spite of hating the plot and the actors' acting. You love that about him.

 ''Who was that earlier?''

''Hmm?'' Jaehyun glances where you're looking. ''Ah, Cross. He wanted me to help Jungwon.''

Cross, a friend of his that you're familiar with yet haven't gotten the chance to actually meet him properly. Jaehyun says he's a busy man.

''About what?''

''Just a mess he made.'' You remember his last line when you arrived at the kitchen. ''That fucker won't stop bothering the youngsters, really.''

Giggling, you pepper his shoulder with kisses. ''Why are you so mad? I'm sure Jungwon can do it with just a few instructions from you.''

Finding nothing right to respond to you, Jaehyun smiles and focuses on cooking. The food looks and smells delicious, but you crave for something else. Something that involves a certain tattooed man who has his hair tied in a man bun.

Jaehyun sighs. ''You know I can ruin our food if you're distracting me, right?''

''Don't care. I'll just eat you instead.''

Jaehyun smirks, lowering the heat before facing you. ''You've got a dirt mouth on you, sweetheart.''

''Uh-huh, wonder where I got it from.'' Your arms circle his neck.

''Right, I wonder..''

Lips curving upwards, you are filled with a giddy feeling as Jaehyun connects with yours, caressing your waist while his other hand settles on the back of your neck to press into you deeper.

Sooner than later, it escalates to more, courtesy of Jaehyun's failed resistance over your body covered merely by his wrinkled dress shirt. A squeak escapes you, tightening your hold on him as he carries you without struggles and transfers you to the countertop usually used for eating breakfast. Your legs welcome him in between like an old friend.

Palm coming in contact with your inner thighs, Jaehyun hums. ''Of course, prancing around this apartment with no panties. What else can be expected from you? Always so eager to have my cock inside that tight little pussy of yours.''

You mewls. God, that deep fucking voice and the lack of filters on Jaehyun's words are enough to cause a pool on your core. ''T-touch me, please.''

And touch, he did. Two fingers plunge inside you, indifferent if you're unprepared for the sudden stretch. Jaehyun curls them, mouth sucking the area where your collarbone lies, groaning as his clothed crotch brushes against your knees. His arm that is on your waist grips you, closer to him and keeps you still.

''Ah, ah.'' Your head lolls to the back, hands placed behind you to support your weight. ''Your fingers feels so good– fuck– more. I want more please. Haah, so good!''

Two becomes three, pads prodding at your spot. The electrifying feeling is too much, you lose control of your own body. Your hips start to buck, meeting the vigorous thrusts of Jaehyun's hands as your own flies to hold onto Jaehyun's arm, gripping and moaning as you feel the muscle flex underneath your palm.

With the signs of your climax showing themselves to Jaehyun, he immediately pulls out his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and whining at the loss of pleasure. Grinding your pussy against the cold marble countertop to make up for the digits that left you unattended, you watch through your hazy vision how Jaehyun licks and sucks the said digits as if it's some sweet candy.

When your slick on his fingers runs out, Jaehyun nudges your legs wider, feet planted on the same marble top. Your eyes lowered to his boxers, his tip peeking out of the hem.

''Fuck.. you're too big a boxer couldn't even accomodate your size?''

Jaehyun kisses your throat, licking your nipples through the shirt. ''That's why you're here, darling. None of these clothes can keep my cock warm. My pretty cocksleeve.. you'll do that instead, don't you?''

Nodding, you press your body against him, hands feeling Jaehyun's abs and chest. Your eyes shoot wide and a gasp resonates around the kitchen when Jaehyun's tip breaches past your pussy lips, invading your hole as his veins rub the velvet and warm walls. When he's buried deep inside, Jaehyun starts thrusting with an unforgiving pace. There's not even a build up.

''Oooh– yes, yes, yes! Fuck my pussy! You reach so deep– oh, God– you reach so deep inside me, I can feel you in my belly. Jaehyun, you're so big! Too big!''

You feel so full. The impressive girth of your boyfriend might be monstrous but somehow your walls willingly stretches to its limit to accommodate it. As if your pussy was made exclusively for Jaehyun's dick.

''Motherfu–... You're fucking chocking me, sweetheart. I feel like I might come soon,'' Jaehyun chuckles. ''You're the only one who can make me cum in a span of minutes. You're the only one who can take my fucking cock like a fucking champ.''

''Yes! I'll make you feel– ah!-- feel good. You should fuck me everyday– haah– every morning and every night– Oh so good! Don't go to work just– fuuuck!-- just fuck me the whole day. Don't care if I tear apart.''

Even though his bar can function without physically being there, Jaehyun knows he won't do that. He won't get rich. But Jaehyun gets harder nonetheless.

''Or– or if not, you can bring me there and fuck me on the counter too while mixing and making drinks for your customers. I'm sure– ah shit– I'm sure they'll like the show. It's like hitting two birds with– oooh– one stone, right?''

Jaehyun growls at your ear. ''Fucking..''

You yelp as you get manhandled, your back now facing Jaehyun's chest as you stand before Jaehyun. A high-pitched moan rings across the apartment when Jaehyun thrusts into you faster, deeper, and harder. Your legs buckle and your arms fly out everywhere, desperate for something to hold on. 

Tears streaming down your face, Jaehyun decides to help his poor girlfriend by grabbing each of your arms on the area of your elbow, steadying you so he could plow and jab at your prostate without you moving much.

''You fucking slut. And here I thought I house an innocent one. Although maybe you were once like that– I made you like this. God, I made a monster, didn't I? A fucking vixen.''

Your knees face each other, folding a bit. They would've given up on you if not for Jaehyun. Head bowing down, you meet the view of your belly and the bump appearing with every snap of Jaehyun's hips. You are reduced to a whimpering mess.

Jaehyun laughs when he notices where you are looking at. ''See that? If you're not on pills, your belly would be round and plump. You will be carrying my child, showing everyone who fucking owns you.''

The words seem to be stuck on your throat, clogging the passage where you can get air as breathing through your nose isn't enough. Eyelids flickering, you could barely get the words out.

''What was that, darling?'' Jaehyun presses his cheek against yours, sucking the skin of your shoulder.

''Come– come..''

''Come?'' Jaehyun smiles, an arm caging you in his embrace as the other encloses on your throat again. ''Go on. You're my good girl, right? Come for Jaehyun, darling.''

You thrashes, legs shaking violently, tears rolling down your cheeks. Finally finding your voice, you scream as your release takes over your body, sending you into a bliss of pleasure.

''Beautiful.'' Jaehyun groans.

It's too much– the overstimulation, the drag of his thick cock along your walls. Instead of slowing down, Jaehyun quickens his pace, pinching your nipple between his middle and forefinger.

''Too much– I can't! Jaehyun, it's too much, please! Slow– fuck– slow down please!''

''No. You're gonna fucking take all of me. Isn't this what you want, sweetheart?''

''Just–...''

As his cock starts to twitch inside you, Jaehyun pulls out, pushing you down to your knees and as soon as your mouth is open for him, Jaehyun wastes no time in burying his cock deep in your throat. All it takes him is a few thrusts and he's coming, hot cum spilling past your tongue and straight to your throat, forcing you to gulp everything and not miss even a drop.

''Yeah, that's right.'' He rubs his tip on your tongue before pulling out.

''Uno, are you not really coming? I heard the prize is big tonight.''

Jaehyun casts a brief glance at your sleeping figure beside him, your arm hugging his waist. He ponders a bit. Aside from handling his own bar, Jaehyun also does illegal racing. Earning him the name of Uno as he always placed first in every rave he participates in.

Jaehyun doesn't want to miss the opportunity of earning a large amount of money in an easy way. But as you snuggle up on his side, scooting closer to him as you mumble incoherently about something– Jaehyun sighs.

''Nah, boyfriend duties.''

Red's– or by his real name, Eunwoo's– sound of disgust penetrates his ears. ''You're so fucking whipped it's disgusting.''

Just then, a rustle is heard and Cross' voice replaces Red's. ''Get your ass over here, I don't fucking want to see TY winning that race.''

''Guess what?'' Jaehyun says.

''What?''

''I don't care about what you want.''

Jaehyun chuckles as he ends the call, interrupting Cross' rants abruptly. He tosses the phone to the bedside and wraps his arms around you as well.

TY and his gang can fucking win that game for all they want. Jaehyun doesn't give a flying fuck. He can win that money back in a single raise, the prizes get higher whenever he races anyway. For now, Jaehyun will uncharacteristically enjoy the domestic atmosphere surrounding your shared bedroom and vask in the warmth of your love.

How cringy. But just like how he watched that drama with you– Jaehyun couldn't care less as long as it's with you.

Read Cross' fic here! Share your thoughts?

[spechblend]

My Guide to Patch/Crust DIY Pants That No One Asked For:

(If you see this guide go through changes, you’re not crazy, I update it all the time)

I’ve noticed that my DIY pants had been noticed on here, so I’d thought I make a guide for new punks getting into the scene 💖

I’ve been in the punk scene for a little over two years now, so don’t take everything I say to heart, I’ve got lots to learn.

Typically, you want to start out with a good base. For instance, the pants you choose can make or break your project. I don’t suggest buying super expensive pants, but don’t buy them super low quality either. You want something that lasts, as crust or patch pants are meant to be your only pair.

EDIT: Before I start any new project, I look around my stuff to see if I can repurpose anything. Old T shirts, bed sheets, bags, you name it. It’s so much easier to repurpose your stuff before buying new things, and you save money doing it. Before you buy pants, see if you can find a pair you already own! I had to buy new ones because I only had one other pair of jeans that I wear to work.

I’ve seen some tutorials floating around for DIY can spikes. Please be very careful doing this. If you’re moshing in a vest made with cut up aluminum, you can seriously hurt someone if you’re not careful. Be on the safe side and either borrow/buy pre made studs and spikes or save the DIY can spikes for non-moshing vests/pants/cuffs.

If you’re moshing with any studs or spikes at ALL, they should be blunt!!!

Good places to buy pants

Thrift (it’s a bit of a crapshoot if you have a hard time finding sizes, but if they’ve lasted long enough to end up in a thrift store, then it means they’re more likely good quality. Check the tags!!)

Edited above, been informed of how Goodwill treats disabled employees

ASOS (I recommend if you have a hard time finding your size. I can’t guarantee the sustainability of this site though.)

Mercari (Like an online goodwill. I find a lot of awesome clothes on here. You can download the app.)

Depop (I seldom shop on here, but similar to Mercari with a wider range of brands.)

How the Pants Should Fit

The fit of your pants can also affect how they lay on you. I suggest buying pants slightly larger on you, if you’re covering them in patches. When you start sewing, you’re going to find that they’re going to shrink a little bit. So please avoid tight fitting jeans if you can! Straight or relaxed fit are the best.

EDIT: If skinny/fitting pants are all you got, sometimes making relief cuts at the knees help when you try to bend down.

Patches

Patches are going to be what makes your pants unique! There’s quite a few you can choose from: plain patches, band patches, politics patches, etcetera. If you’re going to cover the entirety of your pants, I suggest going to Joann’s or Michaels (fuck Hobby Lobby) for fabric. Buy a yard or two canvas or pleather (or both). Otherwise, I usually cut up old T-shirts for my fabric.

How to Make Your Own Patches

Stencil (very straightforward, here’s a guide) (please check out Anarchostensilism on insta/Tiktok/Deviantart)

Paint (Buy white/black stencil fabric paint. I don’t suggest acrylic, since it’s not made to move with fabric)

Where to Buy Pre Printed Patches

crustpunks.com (Hella good, fast shipping, affordable!! Made by punks for punks)

nuclearwasteunderground.com (I found this one randomly)

Etsy (While I hate them for the way they treat their sellers, unfortunately this can be a main source of income for some.)

Shows, punk meets, friends

If you’re going to make crust pants, it’s imperative that you have crust bands on your patches, that’s what makes them crust! (Apart from never washing them)

Edit: I would do your own research on the crust punk subculture, there’s a lot of discourse out there on what makes punks crust punks and so on.

Washing your pants is not a black and white rule, but you can ruin the integrity of your work if you carelessly throw them in the washer. Like if you were to throw a suede jacket into the washer, there’s certain steps to take!

Here’s an enlightening guide on crust.

Here’s some crust band recs!

Nausea

Anti Cimex

Dystopia (my favorite)

disrupt

Doom

Heresy

Discharge

Amebix

Things to Add to Your Pants

Buttons (you can buy or make your own. Here’s a guide for DIY bottle cap buttons)

Pockets (easy to monkey wrench with a few spare patches, but here’s a pattern)

Handkerchiefs (the hankey code, much like the lace code, is pretty much dead. But it’s up to you if you want to signal something with it.)

Wallet chains (here’s a cool guide to making your own!)

Bum flap (by far the coolest thing on this list. Makes your ass not hurt when you sit on the sidewalk. Here’s a video)

Make them convertible (I made mine into zip off shorts. Here’s a video)

I made this up, but I added removable knee pads to mine.

Pant Inspiration

Have no shame in taking reference! Here’s are some cool accounts with awesome pants!

carnifexofhate

dontditchitstitchit

no_name_no_reason

okshrimpet

annals_of_the_crustwar

a_lifeisabuse_e

That’s all I got! Remember to never wash your pants ✨