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legolasghosty · 1 year

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Ohh for the fluffy dialogue prompts can you do 2. “I feel like I can breathe better with you around.” for Willex please? <3

Yessss, I am so sorry about how long it's taken me to get to this!!! But here you go!!! Also... I am so very sorry for how angsty this got! Send me another ask and I'll get you some actual fluff next time! Yikes!

Alex waits till the hall light clicks off. Then he counts slowly to 100 to give his parents plenty of time to get to their room and shut the door. Once he's sure they're out of earshot, he slowly sits up and pulls his phone from under the pillow. There's a text from Willie on the screen from about five minutes ago.

Willie - I'm outside. Do you need help?

Alex quickly types out a negative response, then forces himself up and out of his bed. This won't take long, and the noise generated by a second person would greatly increase the chances of him getting caught.

He can't get caught. Not this time. Not after...

No. He's getting out tonight. Away from rules that don't make sense and pointed glances and people surrounding him, laying hands on his shoulders, all praying aloud at once and proclaiming victory over The Enemy when Alex collapsed to the floor, tears leaking from his eyes as he fought to keep from drowning.

He can't take it anymore. Not after that. He can't fake it.

Alex pulls out the half packed suitcase from under his bed. No time to be tidy, he just has to be fast and quiet.

The last couple of his comfy shirts and pants go into the suitcase, then some socks and underwear. One of his warmer coats and a white button down go in as well. Gotta be practical when running away from your homophobic family, right?

Willie promised to handle all the hygiene products, so Alex doesn't bother risking a trip to the bathroom for his toothbrush or shampoo. He adds all of the spare drumsticks he keeps at home to the suitcase. There aren't many. In goes a picture of him and his big sister when they were in middle school, and the cardboard box that holds all of Alex's ticket stubs and cards and things from his friends.

And that's it. There's other things in the room of course, but nothing Alex wants to take with him. Most of it doesn't even feel like it belongs to him anyways.

It belongs to Alexander Mercer, the quiet, serious boy who studies his Bible all the time and never talks back to his parents and blushes at the thought of holding hands with the pastor's daughter. Not Alex, the snarky, anxious wreck who wrestles with his friends and plays his drums till his hands tremble and curls up against his boyfriend's side at movie nights.

Alex takes a shaky breath. When was the last time he got a proper breath? Has he even been breathing the last hour or so? He's not sure.

He zips up the suitcase, grabs his fanny pack, and texts Willie that he's ready to go. He receives a heart and a thumbs up in less than 30 seconds.

It takes him a minute to get the window open. The last time it got opened was probably last fall or something. As he carefully removes the screen, something moving outside catches his eye.

"Alex?" comes a soft whisper.

"Yeah, right here," Alex responds, placing the screen on his bedroom floor.

Willie appears on the other side a moment later, the dim light from the street casting shadows over their face. Alex feels his lips twist up in his first real smile of the day.

"Hey," Willie murmurs, resting his hands on the window sill. "You wanna get out of here?"

Alex bites back a sob and nods.

It takes them a few minutes to get Alex's stuff out the window and into Willie's car. Once it's done, Willie guides Alex over to the passengers side and helps him in before running around to hop into their own seat.

Willie places the key in the ignition, then turns to Alex. "You sure?"

Alex doesn't hesitate. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

Willie nods and turns the car on. They drive slowly out of Alex's neighborhood, then turn onto a bigger street. Alex tries to focus on the stores they're driving past to ground himself, but it doesn't work.

What does work is focusing on Willie. Paying attention to the strands of hair that have escaped their low bun to frame their face. Noticing the way his hoodie sleeves are bunched up around his elbows because Willie always runs warm. Taking in the way the tapping of their fingers against the steering wheel matches the beat of the music playing softly from the radio. Memorizing the determined glint in his eyes when the streetlights catch them.

Alex loves them. And he knows that a love like theirs can't be wrong. It's just love, just like anyone else's.

Willie pulls into their driveway and parks the car. Alex looks up at the dark Covington residence and takes in another shaky breath.

"You ready for this?" Willie asks, turning to Alex and holding out a hand.

Alex laces their fingers together and squeezes. The steady pressure of Willie's hand in his seems to relieve some of the tightness in his chest. The caring, concerned look in their eyes removes the huge weight pressing down on his shoulders. The gentle tone of his voice slows the massive waves battering Alex's mind.

"What?" Willie says then, smiling. "What's that look for?"

The question startles a chuckle out of Alex. "I feel like I can breathe better with you around," he answers softly.

"I'm glad," Willie murmurs.

He slowly raises his other hand to cup Alex's cheek, giving him plenty of time to pull away as they lean in. Alex doesn't, instead meeting them halfway in a sweet kiss.

After a second, Alex pulls back. "Shall we get inside?" he says.

Willie nods and gives him a wide smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

#legolas tag #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #willex #jatp #alex mercer #willie jatp #I'm so so sorry for how angsty this got...#and also for how long this took #and yes I know it's #2am my time #and I should be asleep #I promise I will go back to trying #but uhhhh hope you liked it?#it probably sucks cause I'm writing it on my phone long after my bedtime #ignore me I'm a worn out college kid #tw homophobia #tw religious trauma

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ravengravy · 1 year

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SHES COME SO FAR 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

nov 2018 - dec 2022... its crazy to see how much her design has changed over time AWGHHH /pos?

#/POS HAS A QUESTION MARK BECAUSE IT FEELS LIKE THE OLD DRAWING WAS LAST MONTH #WHATTT #WHY IS TIME MOVING SO FAST #dragon art #wings of fire #okay idk if that still counts #but she was originally a #rainwing #so YES IT DOES OKAY IGNORE ME #wof oc #dragon oc #what is a tag #its 2am goodnight

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satorhime · 2 years

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that stupid “is there someone else” tiktok edit with * and * is what has me acting up like a common whore, i’m sure of it.

#ignore me 2am rambles i’m half asleep #yes i’m censoring #never let em know your next move

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hellonoblesky · 2 years

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hello your trans fukumori art is bringing me to my KNEES i adore it so much. my personal headcanon is trans man mori and nonbinary fukuzawa but i love and support any and all trans headcanons and that art is just so. they're also my OTP for BSD so it's so nice to see people who like them :')

YIPPEE I HAV EBEEN GOING ISNANENEE ABOUT THEM WITH MY IRL FOR LIKE TWOO WEEKS ITS CRAZYYY THEY ARE SOOOO SILLY I NEED TO PUT THEM IN A BOX AND SHAKE THEM VIIOLENTLY.

#ALSO TDONT Mind iF I sound alittle more unhinged rn. but um it's 2am I've been thinking abt them for like 7 hours JFDHAJKDF #They r soooo fucked up (affectionate. but also they have So many issuesit's so fun)#Catch me thinking about everything about them ever and ever rn #LIKE IM. Drawing them AS I TYPE THIS #Like yes it is for an AU where the entire ADA gets executed but Fukuzawa gets saved by the mafia #and yes he is horribly miserable but ignore that it's a fresh AU i haven't worked the specifics out quite yet #Like I'm so . fucking normal about them I promis #I have totally not been sending the most whumpy ideas to my friend for like a week #noo not at alll ahahahahhhhhhhhh #turtledove answers

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no-one-hears-me · 19 days

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boutta ask my bro if he has any hot friends to send my way as a distraction

#except that might make things worse bc men annoy me easily lol #but last time i talked to one of his friends i had a great time #until the dude asked me to come over at 2am then stopped talking to me bc i said no #he was a sweetie tho. if you ignore everything else #well ACTUALLY he's a terrible person but never to me. he was always very sweet to me #aside from the 2am thing. but i told him no and he just said okay and that was it #he didn't get upset or pressure me or try to convince me or anything #so. not really upset about that #like upset that this sweet guy just saw me as an object when i thought he was better than that? yes #but i won't say he treated me poorly bc he really didn't #other men have done wayyy worse #should i find some new ones? haven't really gotten a new dude in awhile #unless you count the one I've had for like a month. maybe longer #but I've known him for a little while. we've just gotten closer and he's gotten interested more recently #but I'm not interested in him at all #kinda feel bad bc he's a good dude and he would be good for me. but i just can't #i think i need people with like. bad childhoods or mental problems or whatever or else i don't feel a genuine connection #but unfortunately those relationships tend to be super unhealthy bc those types of people struggle with forming relationships #I'm not dissing anyone bc I'm one of those people too. just speaking from personal experience #but people capable of healthy relationships aren't really capable of deeply understanding me and connecting with me #ugh. he was so perfect for me why did he have to ruin it #Sera

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porcelana-r0ta · 9 months

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let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was.

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM:

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin.

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia.

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option.

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house.

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death.

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building.

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?”

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.”

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl.

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house.

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight.

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!”

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.”

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.”

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms.

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly.

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs.

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead.

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.”

“What did I do?”

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?”

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!”

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand.

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.”

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?”

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.”

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.”

Damn, Jason curses to himself.

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?”

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.”

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.”

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!”

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.”

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.

Jazz doesn’t dispute it.

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t.

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.”

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!”

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!”

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again.

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.”

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab.

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy.

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green.

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell.

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?”

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings.

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral.

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it.

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery.

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton.

“Why are the fucking Bats here?”

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?”

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?”

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.”

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?”

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls.

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating.

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.”

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks.

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.”

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks.

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.”

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.”

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it.

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.”

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.”

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully.

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?”

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X:

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her.

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #batman #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #the joker #johnny 13 #severely ooc

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ddejavvu · 11 months

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OKOKOKOKKKKKK

What if reader is a member of the BAU and they're working super late on a case (like they're sitting on the roundtable at 2am or sm) and she unconsciously just says "god I would give the best head to anyone who gets me a taco bell (or any fast food) rn" AS A JOKE LIKE UNDER HER BREATH OR SM!!! BUT AARON HEARS???? AND HE JUST CHOKES ASHSHQHQBAB

this post is 18+, minors dni.

There's not much to eat at a police precinct in Kansas. It's two miles out from any restaurant, and there's a 24-hour burger place halfway back to town as your only other hope. JJ's munching on vending machine cheetos, Blake has instant ramen she'd packed in her go-bag, and Reid has a granola bar he'd stuck in his pocket. Morgan ate an hour ago, so he's not hungry, and that leaves Rossi and Hotch as your only possible dinner companions. There's nothing wrong with that, but you'd have an easier time asking JJ.

In fact, you lean over to the blonde, eyeing her cheetos with jealousy, "I'd suck someone's dick to get a burger right now."

You don't notice the way Hotch's stature tightens, his fingers nearly bending the papers he's sifting through. He's sure you hadn't meant for him to hear, so the logical thing to do is to ignore you. Even if it makes his dick a little hard.

JJ snorts at your crass statement, offering you a chip, "Morgan might have taken you up on that before he met Savannah."

The profiler's eyes widen slightly as he hears his name, and he looks up at you expectantly, "Hm?"

"Nothing," You stick your tongue out at Morgan, "We're teasing you."

Hotch's dick responds to that, too.

He waits five minutes before standing, just enough time to get control of his near-boner. When he's absolutely certain you won't see the faint outline of his bulge through his slacks he stands, clearing his throat and making sure to look at Rossi before you, just in case you put two and two together.

"Okay, who needs to eat?"

You're the first to raise your hand, and Hotch nods at you out of the corner of his eyes. Rossi does, too, and Hotch smooths the fabric of his suit over his stomach, "Alright, there's a fast food joint down the road. It's not gourmet, but it's quick and easy. Y/L/N, why don't you come with me, and Dave, send me your order and you can stay here to work."

"Yes, sir," You chime, happily hopping out of your seat. Stretching your legs feels wonderful, as does the prospect of a burger in your empty stomach. You lead the way to an SUV happily, Hotch trailing behind you, and your phone buzzes in your pocket just before you strap your seatbelt on.

JJ: Gonna suck his dick?

Shut up, you reply, he didn't hear me.

"Alright," Aaron sets both hands on the wheel, "Let me just read Dave's order, and we can go."

"Sounds good," You nod, leg bouncing in anticipation of your burger. Aaron swipes sideways at the message notification on his screen noticing two.

SSA D.R.: Cheeseburger with raw onions, fries well done, medium coke.

SSA D.R.: Enjoy your blowjob.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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markiemelon · 21 days

Text

ordinary

fluff ─ ੈ♡˳ no warnings! ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

idol!jaehyun x gn!reader

this one’s for all my delulus out there!

{6:33pm} ♡‧₊˚ ↴

it wasn’t his job that made him ordinary, it wasn’t his talent, and it certainly wasn’t his looks.. but it was the little things he did, like wanting to go to the convenience store with you at 2am even after a long day of photoshoots and promotions.

it’s starting to get colder, and leaves are turning brown again. just like it was when you met him. this time of year makes you remember the first time you crossed paths.

you were working at a cafe, your first day, first job. he, of all people, walked in. you felt your heart stop and start again. of course you knew who he was, but you didn’t dare say anything. you kindly welcomed him, holding back the urge to ask for a picture or an autograph.. you were too shy to do anything like that.

you’ll never forget his order. it still hasn’t changed. you called it out. “extra hot caramel macchiato, two pumps hazelnut, extra whipped cream.”

he was off to the side of the counter, jotting something down on piece of paper. his head perked up at your call, and he smiled.

he payed in cash, and managed to slip something in with it. a little folded up sticky note wedged in between the bills. you wouldn’t have noticed it if it hadn’t slipped out and fallen onto the floor. “oh, did something fall out of—”

“don’t worry. that’s for you.” he interjected, taking the change you held out for him in your hand. “well thanks. have a nice day.” he nodded on his way out.

after watching him exit in awe, you picked up the note. a string of digits was written across it in really poor handwriting. it read ‘text me?’ but it actually looked more like ‘taxi man’

but you couldn’t focus for the rest of the day. seeing him in person was enough to shake you up, but for him to hit on you? you got a least 4 orders wrong after that.

when you finally got home, you were hesitant to type the number into your phone. did he really mean to give it to you? that’s dangerous… for all he knows, you could be a sasaeng.

you ignored any doubts and just did it anyway. you had no idea what to say. not wanting to freak him out or act like a crazy fan, you went with something simple.

hi are you the guy from earlier? caramel macchiato?

shortly after you sent it, you got a response.

yeah that’s me

you stared at your screen expressionless, trying to process what was going on. and then another text came through.

sorry that note was so sloppy. actually i was worried you wouldn’t be able to read it

im jaehyun by the way. could i get your name?

all you could do was laugh. it was unbelievable.

surprisingly, you slept pretty well that night. but you woke up a little disappointed, thinking you’d just woken from the best dream ever. you picked up your phone to check the time only to see a message from a number that had yet to be saved as a contact.

you working today?

you took a second to notice the messages above it, where you exchanged names. your heart fluttered, but then it dropped. it was already noon and jaehyun’s text is what reminded you that you had a shift at 1:15. your thumbs slammed against your keyboard to respond.

yes i totally forgot

you pulled yourself together in like 10 minutes. hair kinda messy, eye bags on fleek, you head out. you were in such a hurry, it didnt occur to you to check if he responded.

nice. i’ll see you there

but you left him on delivered.

you made it just on time. you reached for the door handle but someone else beat you to it. a familiar voice spoke. “here, i can get that.”

you weren’t expecting to see jaehyun right beside you, and you obviously weren’t used to seeing his face up close and personal. “oh it’s you-” your hands instinctively covered your mouth in surprise. “what are you doing here?” you avoided looking directly at him as you made your way inside.

he followed behind you. “i have a day off.. and i was craving coffee.” you rubbed your cold hands together. “is that so?” heading to the back to put your things down, you tried hard not to show how nervous you were.

you came back out with an apron, and you made sure to fix your hair up a bit. jaehyun was standing on the other side of the counter like he was ready to place an order, so you had to think of him as any regular customer. “what can i get for you today, sir?”

“can i get a… date with you?”

at that point, it had started to sink in. that you actually had a shot with this guy.

“sir, that’s.. not on the menu.” you teased with a sudden confidence, looking him in the eye.

yes, this was jeong jaehyun. but at the end of the day, he was still a man. and like any man, you wouldn’t let him pull you so easily.

“it’s not?” he answered, his gaze lingering on you so naturally. “hmm…” with a quick scan of the menu, he continued. “a caramel macchiato is fine, then.”

one thing led to another, and the untouchable superstar jaehyun you couldn’t believe was real, was now the annoying jaehyun who refused to leave your home.

the unreachable jaehyun who travels the world, performing at sold out stadiums, is still the jaehyun who sleeps through his alarms, and sings in the shower…

now you know he’s not unreachable or untouchable, but it was still hard for you to understand how such a special person… could really be so ordinary.

thank you for reading 🌱 reqs always open

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recklesssturniolo · 5 months

Note

Can you pretty please make a dom Matt fic where he gets really pissed in a car video or after an argument or something and pins reader against a wall and fucks them ROUGH. Like girl all out letting loose.

Argument - M.S

SORTA based this request I just changed it so they fck in the van instead (was a separate request for that), dom!Matt, toxic (kinda?)/jealous Matt

Idk how I feel about this one so I’m on my knees praying you guys like it😅😅😅

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

Matt and I had been arguing in the van for about 15 minutes now. All over the fact that a guy hit on me and he didn’t like how I responded.

“Oh my god Matt! All I said was thank you and walked away. He literally just said I looked nice” I yelled.

“Yeah he said you look nice and clearly wanted to fuck you and you thanked him for it, did you not see him look you up and down multiple times?” He yelled back.

I couldn’t deny that seeing Matt this worked up wasn’t turning me on. He didn’t get jealous often so it wasn’t often I saw this side of him.

“Matthew for the love of god he didn’t make even a subtle move or comment that would’ve implied he was trying to fuck. It was a compliment and that’s all” I responded.

“Mine as well of sucked him off right there at that point” He argued back.

“Alright whatever I’m sorry I didn’t fucking walk away and ignore him. I was just trying to be nice and not cause any issues. Didn’t realize I was acting like a slut to you” I sighed.

“Oh ok you think you acted like a slut in my opinion? Guess I’ll fuck you like one” He asked.

Matt didn’t give me a chance to respond, instead grabbing the back of my neck and connecting our lips. The kiss was rougher than usual, but god having Matt jealous was hot as fuck, even if I didn’t mean to. Pulling away, he began making his way down my neck, sucking and biting the spots he knew were most sensitive.

“Fuck Matt” I moan out.

Grabbing my throat and squeezing slightly he responds, “Look how easily you’re turned on, I bet you’re fucking soaked”

“I - just fuck me already” I reply, beyond aware that my panties were soaked.

“Not yet, I think you need to prove how sorry you are” He smirked.

Knowing what he was hinting at, I begin leaning over and undoing his belt, then pulling his boxers and pants down just enough for his dick to come out. Licking around his tip, he immediately grabs me by the hair, pulling me away.

“Don’t even fucking think about teasing me” He says, his voice becoming raspy.

I nod before spitting on his dick, and taking as much as I could into my mouth, my hand jerking off what couldn’t fit.

“Such a slut, take all of it, I know you can” He groans.

I do as he says, now feeling his dick hitting the back of my throat. Gags leaving my mouth as I continued sucking him off. Hearing quiet moans as I did so. His hip’s thrusting upwards every so often.

“Fuck Matt you’re too big” I mumble. Pulling away for a moment to catch my breath.

Making eye contact with me, he pulls me towards him once again kissing me. Pulling my dress up and exposing my ass, smacking it, causing me to yelp out.

“Such a good girl for me” He mumbles out.

“Please” I whimper. Wanting nothing more than to feel him inside me.

“What do you want huh? For me to fuck you like the whore you are? He smiles.

“Fuck I - yes Matt I need you” I moan out.

“Get out of the van” He demands.

“What? Matt we’re in public” I respond. It was 2am and we were in an empty parking lot but still.

“I don’t care, if someone see’s they’ll just know who you belong to” He smiles back, pulling his pants up slightly, he gets out of the van. He comes over to the passenger side, opening the door and practically dragging me out of the van. Pinning me again the side of it.

My dress still pulled up, he slides his hand up my thigh, “Fucking slut, you’re practically dripping” he says, before pushing my panties down.

I moan in response, feeling his fingers swipe between my folds. Matt usually wasn’t this rough, but fuck it was so hot.

I feel him slide his dick near my entrance, pushing it in slightly before taking it out. Repeating that a few times.

“Matt please, I need you just fuck me” I whimper.

“So needy, how badly do you need me huh?” He responds.

“So badly fuck I can’t wait any longer please” I beg.

He smacks my ass again before pushing himself all the way into me. Both of us moaning out.

“So fucking tight” He groans. Reaching his arm around my shoulder and grabbing my throat.

“F-feels so good” I whine.

He picks up his pace, now having to hold my hips in place to avoid them hitting against the van due to how hard he was going.

“Yeah? Who is the only one who can make you feel this good?” He asks.

“You - fuck only you Matt” I whimper out.

“That’s right, who do you belong to? Huh? Whose slut are you?” He asks again.

“You Matt, fuck only a slut for you” I moan out.

“Good girl” He responds.

Continuing to fuck me, I feel my stomach tighten as he hits my g-spot continuously.

“I’m gonna come Matt” I whimper, my legs shaking slightly.

“Good. Come all over my dick pretty girl” He says, slamming into me harder than ever before.

I stutter curse words and whimper out his name as I hit my climax. The pleasure being so much my legs shaking and Matt having to now hold my body up.

“Matt oh my fuck I can’t take any more, I’m sensitive” I whisper.

“Yes you can, I know you can. You’re gonna take it while I fill you up” He responds. Not stopping his thrusting, well aware of how sensitive I was now.

His dick twitches inside of me, before he moans out, “Such a good little whore letting me fuck you senseless” and I feel him release himself inside of me.

Slowing his pace, he thrusts a couple more times before pulling out. His come starting to drip down my thighs. He turns me around, my back now against the van. Cupping my face with his hand.

Not giving him a chance to speak, I tell him “Jesus Christ why haven’t you fucked me like that before”

“Haven’t had to remind you that you’re mine before” He says.

“You’re insane if you think I’d even considering getting with someone else, especially now after how good you just fucked me” I tell him.

“Mmm I know, couldn’t help but be jealous after seeing you in that dress and how he was looking at you” He shrugs, “Had been waiting to fuck you all night”

“Could’ve taken me to the bathroom” I smirk.

“Yeah yeah come on, wait, hold on let me wipe your legs off before you get back in the van” He says, grabbing a hoodie of his from the back and wiping his come off of me.

“If I can’t walk properly I swear I’ll make you carry me everywhere” I tell him, almost positive come tomorrow morning I’d be limping.

“Fine by me, was worth it” He smirks as we both get back into the van.

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidsword @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @mattenthusiast @its-jennarose @lxvlysworld @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #solo triplets x reader #dom!matt #matt x fem reader #matt x reader #sturniolo smut

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chrattenthusiast · 5 months

Text

It's all because I wanna Show you that I'm so capable

• warnings: substances, sex while high yay!, kinda long!!!!

Nervous- Chris Sturniolo smut

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The neighbourhood's music softly emanates from your vinyl while you casually scroll on your phone without much thought.

A gentle tapping resonates from your window, prompting you to become alert. You glance at the clock, which shows 1:58 am, dismissing the sound, thinking it's just the breeze.

The sound grows more distinct, prompting you to cautiously get out of bed. You walk toward the window, hastily opening the curtains to see who's interrupting your late-night music session, momentarily escaping reality.

In all his glory, Chris stands before you. You unlatch the window, opening it to invite him into your room. You take in his appearance, noticing his grey sweatpants, tousled brown hair cascading gracefully on his forehead, and the glint of his silver chain peeking through his sweatshirt. and he looks good.

“you done staring , you’re practically drooling” chris interrupts your thoughts

“what are you doing here it’s almost 2am ” you say ignoring his snarky comment.

“ I Just wanted to hang” he reples

his hands move towards his pocket pulling out a tightly rolled blunt. he moves towards the window, not wanting the room to smell like the illegal substance. sitting on the windowsill he grabs the lighter burning the end inhaling the smoke all while maintaining eye contact. his eyes drift over your appearance, from his oversized shirt you stole from him, and a random pair of shorts. he slightly leans over, his fingers wrap around the waistband of your shorts tugging slightly eliminating the space between the two of you.

"Hi," he greets, observing your silence. His hands gently scratch your scalp as he takes another extended drag from the blunt.

"Hi," you reply relaxed from Chris's fingers. Wishing they were exploring elsewhere.

With his hands still on your waist, subconsciously squeezing as a habit, his thumb caresses the exposed skin as he pulls you to straddle him.

"I've missed you," he says, breaking the silence.

"I mean, you practically leaped through my bedroom window," you nervously inject humor into the tense situation.

Inhaling once more, he grips your jaw, exhaling the smoke into your mouth. You breathe in the substance, releasing the excess smoke from your lips. taking the opportunity to place his lips on yours leading to a heated make out, as his lips move to your neck leaving leaving kisses that were likely to leave a mark next morning

Chris gets up from his seated position, causing you to wrap your legs around his torso, he takes a seat on your bed as he continues to attack you with heated kisses, you move your fingers to loop your fingers around his sweatshirt when he stops your actions, you pause and look at him confused as this wasn't an unusual setting for the both of you

"Are you sure?" he asks, gazing into your eyes for any signs of discomfort. Simultaneously, he gently squeezes your waist, an unspoken pledge that he wouldn't be upset if you weren't up for it.

You nod and lean in to give him a kiss. "Words, I need words, sweetheart," he requests.

"Yes, Chris, I'm sure," you affirm, providing him with the confirmation he needed.

He rises from the seated position, placing you gently on your feet, Heading to the window frame where his second blunt rests, he lights it up and moves toward you, inhaling the smoke. "Take it off for me, look at me while you're doing it," he instructs, his gaze fixed on you.

You follow along, starting with his oversized shirt that clings to your body and smells just like him. He sizes you up, his hands running through your hair, pushing it back and exposing your neck adorned with the bruises from his earlier attack. The blunt moves from his lips to yours, and he takes control, regulating how much you inhale, well aware that your tolerance doesn't match his.

He moves towards you causing you to take a step back, the back of your legs hit the bed frame, causing you to tilt your head to look up to chris,His fingers gently stroke your cheek, planting a tender kiss on your lips before he crouches down. handing you the blunt to hold onto

He tugs at the waistband of your panties, tossing them aside, and you observe as he spreads your legs, murmuring explicit words as if it's the first time he's laid eyes on you in such a way. Placing a kiss on your inner thighs, he lifts your leg over his shoulder, moving closer to your heat. You toy with his hair, and he watches you, seizing the chance to catch you off guard as his moves his mouth towards your wetness.

You feel his mouth warm mouth against your heat, and you let your head fall backwards onto the mattress, chris starts to move his tongue tasting your wetness gently moving towards your clit each time, and you gasp silently thanking his skillful mouth.

In a matter of minutes, Chris quickens his pace, challenging your ability to remain silent. To stifle your sounds, you bite down on your finger as his mouth envelops your clit sucking harder and harder. Your grip on his hair tightens, but instead of pulling away from the stinging sensation, he presses his mouth even closer , and this leaves you breathless, chris takes notice and he redirects his attention from your clit to you.

"deep breaths for me, baby," he says, his thumb circling on your clit. You follow his instructions, concentrating on deep breaths, while Chris's free hand reassuringly rubs circles against your hips.

"Atta girl," he praises, satisfied that you've replenished enough oxygen to your brain. he slides his tongue back inside you, returning his mouth to your clit. Your hand moves to your hips, where you sense his firm grip. Taking a bold step, you intertwine your fingers with his, feeling his thumb brushing against yours, providing you with great comfort.

You feel yourself nearing your climax, your breath becoming shallow as the weight on your lower stomach becomes prominent. Chris adds a finger inside you, but his tongue doesn't abandon your swollen clit. Moments later, you release inside Chris's mouth, and he swallows your release. The speed of his fingers doesn't halt, edging your release further.

He withdraws his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck off the excess, all while maintaining a gaze with lowered eyes. He grabs onto your hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed, offering you a sloppy kiss, wanting you to taste yourself.

he grabs the reminder of the blunt that was discarded onto your nightstand,relighting it he takes a long drag blowing off the excess smoke.

"Take my pants off for me would you baby" he says and you comply with the request, you see his long shaft hit the bottom of his stomach and you practically drool at the sight. You move to stroke it, but he grabs onto your hand. "Did I tell you to touch me?" he says, and you shake your head in response.

"always so needy for me aren't you sweetheart" he says.

"Chris, please," you express, a clear desire for him to quicken the pace. Yet, he relishes in your evident neediness, wanting the image of you gazing at him with such neediness to be etched into his memory.

Finally choosing to end your anticipation, he grabs onto you and flips you onto all fours. Running the head of his shaft in between your folds, he gradually sinks into you, emitting a groan at the overwhelming sensation, as his eyes fall shut. It proves intoxicating for him, a feeling he swears could be his undoing.

he bunches your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulls you into his chest as he places the blunt in between your lips encouraging you to take a hit as he slides in and out of you. It drove you wild how effortlessly he could multitask, every action of his causing a frenzy within you, yet he appeared composed as if he weren't deeply buried inside you. You exhale when he slides all his inches into you, simultaneously increasing his pace, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you. His hand finds its way to your mouth, muffling your cries, while his mouth brushes against your ears, you hear his shallow breaths.

"shh, just take it all for me " he says as you feel the cackle from his inhale of the blunt. his eyes trained on the way his dick disappears inside you, as your walls enclose around him with each thrust. your hand move to the back of his neck not wanting to fall over by the harsh thrusts he was giving you lightly burying your fingers in his hair as he nips at every inch of skin available to him.

"fuck, you feel so good" he moves to your clit toying with your swollen bud and you feel tears brim your vision and your hands fly up to the hand that silenced your moans pulling at it you turn to look at him, but you are met with a kiss,It's messy and intense, the kind that screams possessiveness, and you're no stranger to that feeling.

The bristles of his stubble tickle your cheeks as you grip the back of his head firmly, wanting him impossibly closer than his current proximity. You try to pull away, but his hands move towards your head, keeping you in place and thwarting your attempt to escape just seconds ago.

Chris finally pulls away, his gaze shifting to your cheeks stained with tears. He then looks at your slightly swollen lips, and his eyes meet yours. He discards the blunt onto the ashtray on your nightstand, annoyed that he couldn't witness how good he was making you feel, he wasn't willing to miss another opportunity for a visual playback when he was away from you.

"fuck this i wanna look at you" he whispers

He wraps both his arms around your torso, carrying you to your vanity. Still buried deep inside you, he places you down on the wooden table, moving you around like a ragdoll he can play with at his convenience.

Truth be told, he wanted every part of your room to remind you of him and only him—from the window he climbed through minutes ago to the bathroom sink he fucked you against last week. He enjoyed the idea of imprinting his presence in your mind, making you nervous to move suddenly. So, you focus on the wall, avoiding his intense gaze.

"You shy now?" he says, resting his forehead against yours to make you look at him. "Hmm, pretty girl?" he whispers against your lips, smiling as he feels your walls squeeze him. His own pleasure grows at the realization that you respond positively to everything he says.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" he asks, continuing to slam his hips into you, causing you to whimper at his harsh thrusts and you stare at him, dazed by him and the substance that started taking a toll on you, making everything ten times more pleasurable. The way he looks at you, studying what you like, and how you're always at his beck and call.

"I'll call you that anytime you want me to," he says, continuing to tease you. His fingers skillfully attend to your clit, intensifying the overwhelming sensations as he maintains a heated gaze. His thrusts show no signs of slowing down, effortlessly hitting that spot you know and love

You nestle your head on his shoulders, feeling his hands reach for your hair, running his fingers through it. "Is it too much for you?" he asks "Cause if you want to be mine," he begins, planting a kiss on your temple, "you're gonna have to handle a lot more " he declares, gripping your face to make you look at him, his eyes low and slightly red from the many hits he took, feeling the burning sensation in your gut intensify everytime you look at him.

"you wanna be mine?" he asks, right against your lips. and you nod, not wanting anything more than him.

"say it. use your words"

"yes chris. I want to be yours " you sob pleading

Chris smiles at your response, halting his thrusts. "Show me how much, show me how no one else could make you feel like this" he says, and you move your hips against his, riding him hastily, eager to reach your peak.

"no one else can, I promise" you whisper as your mind goes blank, slightly cursing at how he could make you do and say the most outrageous things

"Oh, I know that already. I just want you to show me," he replies to your claim, cockily. Chris was the type to get jealous, but all of that went out the window when he sees how you respond to him in moments like these. He knew you wouldn't dare to seek pleasure from someone else,If you ever entertained the idea of seeking pleasure elsewhere, he consistently made it clear who you belonged to, swiftly reestablishing your place and your actions only reinforced his confidence in that belief.

"that's it baby, just like that " he encourages, the pleasure finally gets too much for you, and he takes notice that you were close.

"you gonna cum for me?" he asks observing your face, which exuded pleading, causes him to look at you with a smile.

"Do you think you deserve to?" he questions you, you nod not able to form a reply as he halted your release, you're already severely lightheaded and sensitive. Usually he'd ask you to use your words to tell him what he wanted, but as he observed your face, which exuded pleading, he didn't push you for an answerr

"do it baby" he encourages

It doesn't take much for you to comply with his request. His hands move to your mouth, muffling your sounds as you reach your orgasm. It hits you with such force that your eyesight is veiled with dark spots, flames erupting through the entirety of your body. and he watches you with a prideful expression as you spill your release all over him and the sight alone causes him to spill his release inside you,his grip around your waist tightens, not wanting you to run away.

He places a gentle kiss on your lips as you ride out your second orgasm. Swiftly scanning your face for any signs of discomfort or crossed boundaries, he sighs in relief when he only sees sheer exhaustion and red eyes, influenced by the weed.

"Do you mean what you said, or is it just the blunt talking?" he voices out vulnerably. He watches as you look at him with confusion, but your face changes as you connect the dots

"yes, did you?" you whisper

"I thought I made myself clear when I had you against the sink last week and climbed through your second-story window," he mentions, intertwining your fingers with his. You respond with a lazy chuckle, appreciating his sense of humor.

He pulls out of you slowly, acknowledging your sensitivity,watching how he smoothly withdrew from you, fitting together like a puzzle piece, allowing you a moment to gather your thoughts.

Before you decide to move, you sense Chris's fingers at your entrance, pushing his release back inside you, selfishly reveling in the sight,you attempt to express your sensation through a moan, but instead, his lips meet yours, muting any sound you might make.

@mattsd0ll @loveesiren @christinarowie332 @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mangosrar @kenzieiskoolaid @sturnphilia @recklesssturniolo

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #zotalks #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagines #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic

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helaelaemond · 7 months

Text

Teach Me Your Touch - Michael Gavey x Reader

HELAELAEMOND’S KINKTOBER

thank you @arcielee for the banner!

Pairing: Michael Gavey x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: You missed a lecture and have your classmate Michael Gavey share his notes and help you catch up. He's not good at teaching, and he makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel bad. When you cry, he wants to fuck you all better.

Content warning(s): light elements of bullying (prior to smut), feelings of intellectual inferiority

KINK CATEGORIES: public sex, crying, inexperience/loss of virginity (male), fingering (female receiving)

Rating: E

Tagging those who showed interest: @llemes @assortedseaglass @sapphire-writes @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @humanpurposes @underjeno @st-eve-barnes @arcielee @babyblue711

Michael's voice is snappy. "Are you listening to me?"

You look up at him in defeat. "Yes, I'm trying! But I don't-"

"I can't make it any clearer!"

You lean forward on the table and rest your head in your hands. "You're making me feel stupid."

He huffs. "Maybe you are."

Arsehole. Why did you even ask him for his help? You know he's a dickhead, but he's also smart. Last semester, you worked on a group project with him and although he was terrible working with other people, his understanding of the subject was unmatched. He's like a walking calculator, for God's sake, and that intellect seems to apply to every module.

Besides, last time, he had a mean streak, but he also seemed to soften with you. You're not exactly a bombshell, but you're still a woman, and he's a lonely man. You were kind to him last time you worked together, and it made him kinder, too.

Whatever rapport once existed between you, though, seems to have faded. Now, you're sat on the second floor of Radcliffe library under the tall arched ceilings at 2am. No one else is around to see your shame, thankfully.

It's been a long time since you've felt simple. You shouldn't feel stupid - you're on the same course as him! You only missed one lecture! It shouldn't be this hard!

"You're not making it easy to understand," you mumble.

"What?" he asks, irritated.

You lift your head and look at him, eyes red. "My mind doesn't work as quick as yours. I need you to explain it differently."

He blinks at you from behind his thick glasses, and you watch as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing above his buttoned collar. "Right. Fine. You did the reading, and you understand that a tangled hierarchy is a hierarchical consciousness system in which a strange loop appears. Right?"

Clenching your jaw, you nod. "That much I understand, Michael. I'm not as simple as you think."

"I don't think you're simple. I think you're acting simple."

It's too late and you're too tired. Hot tears spill down your cheeks. "You're acting mean."

"What?" He has the audacity to look shocked. "I'm helping!"

"No, you're not." You stand up and shove your notes into your rucksack hastily, along with your pens and library copy of the required reading. "You've spent the last three hours making me feel stupid and small and unintelligent, and you've enjoyed every second."

"No!" he protests angrily. "Don't tell me how I feel!"

"Alright! Well, that's how you've made me feel! And that's not fair! God, I really thought-" You cut yourself off and take a deep breath. But you're still crying, and it's embarrassing, and you furiously wipe away your tears. They're quickly replaced.

Michael stands up and follows you as you stalk off down the rows and rows of bookcases. He calls your name, but you ignore him. It's loathsome how hearing him say it gives you butterflies. "Will you just wait?" he shouts.

You whirl around to face him, making your rucksack fall off your shoulder and onto the floor. The noise echoes in the cavernous library, and you're suddenly very aware of how empty it is of other people. It didn't bother you before. It doesn't exactly bother you now, either, but... but there's something intense about the way he looks at you. It's angry, it's apprehensive, it's... it makes your skin crawl.

"What is it, Michael?" you ask. You're caught somewhere between anger and weariness.

"It's not my fault you feel stupid," he says defiantly.

"For the love of-"

"Because you're not stupid. You're just acting it. Like I said."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He swallows. "Yes. You're not as smart as me. But that doesn't mean you're stupid."

You laugh dryly. "I don't know why I was ever nice to you. You have no interest in being nice to me."

Again, confusion flickers over his face. "I agreed to help you, didn't I? that's nice!"

"I think you only agreed to it so you could make me feel like dirt." You pick up your bag again and continue your way to the stairs that will take you down to the main entrance. You're still crying. He's absolutely shattered you tonight, and it's not fair.

Suddenly, there's a hand around your wrist, and it stops you in your tracks. It becomes abundantly clear that Michael Gavey is far stronger than he looks. You're left breathless when, out of nowhere, he pulls you between tall bookcases. He towers over you. You've always noticed how tall he is. Despite his somewhat bookish appearance, there's something about him that has always been nice to look at. Perhaps it's his thick hair, or his sharp jaw, or his pretty blue eyes. Something about him, despite his nasty streak, makes you wish he approved of you.

"Stop crying."

You sniff and look up at him in shame. "I'm trying."

"Try harder."

That makes your face crumple again. "Leave me alone."

"I want to help."

"Let me go."

"You're kind to me," he says, his voice suddenly quieter. When he says your name, it cracks. "I'm trying to make you feel better."

"It's not working."

"Teach me," he whispers. The intensity with which he is now looking at you in almost too much.

"Say something nice about me."

"Oh. Um." His hand loosens slightly on your wrist. You're all too aware of how clammy it is against your skin. You don't care. Any touch from him is, unfortunately, welcome. "Your work on our projective geometry project was good."

"I know it was."

"Alright." He licks his lips. His eyes dart to yours. "You're... good at explaining things in different ways. I'm not."

You sniff, and look down at your feet. His body is close to yours, and your gaze catches something in his trousers. Perhaps his zipper is caught on something. Or perhaps... perhaps...

Your heart races.

"Why did you agree to help me?" you ask, eyes still downcast.

"You asked."

"Why?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Michael."

"Um."

It's so late, and you're so tired. The uncertainty makes the tears fall again. Your head hurts so much. "I'm going."

Michael cries out your name throatily. In a heartbeat, he grasps your shoulders and pushes you against the bookcase, and then his tall, lean body is pressed against yours and his clammy hands find their place on your neck. "Don't cry," he tells you. His face comes closer to yours. His glasses begin to steam up.

"You've done this to me."

"I want to make you feel better. But..."

"But?"

"But you're so pretty when you cry."

And then he kisses you.

It is messy, wet, and needy. He doesn't hesitate to push his tongue against yours, and his glasses press against your face. It should make you squirm away. But it makes you whimper quietly. Your bag drops to the floor, and your hands fly to his narrow hips. You open your mouth wide against his desperately, your teeth clinking against his, and he mirrors you until your lips, your cheeks, your nose, are wet with his spit.

He doesn't know what he's doing. You hardly do, either. And it's so fucking good.

"Michael," you whisper between hard and deep kisses.

He groans your name. "I've thought about this since we first met."

"You thought about me?"

He nods, before burying his face in your throat. His greedy mouth kisses up and down before they settle where your neck and shoulder meet, and he sucks. At his hips, your hands ball into fists around his belt. The carabiner he wears on it with a collection of USBs knocks against your fingers and you tug on it.

You want to fuck him.

"Yeah," he murmurs against your skin. "Think about you in lectures. What I wanna do to you."

To you. Not with you. God, that should make you want to leave. Instead, you resolve to stay.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly. "Show me."

"Okay."

Nervous sweat dampens his forehead, but you don't care. You feel it when he presses it against yours and palms you over your jacket. Your soft bra is padded, and you can hardly feel his touch. It's driving you mad. In frustration, you unbutton your shirt quickly and look up at him. "Touch me. Please, Michael, please-"

He breathes loudly through his mouth. His lips are wet with sailva; he's practically drooling. He hesitates.

"Have you been with a woman before?" you ask, chest heaving with need.

His grits his teeth, anger flashing across his face at the question, the mere insinuation that this is his first time. You take that as a no.

So it's your turn to teach him. But just from his desperate kisses, you're almost blind with desire, and there's not much patience left in you. So you pull your breast free from its cup, and press on the back of his head. He's so fucking tall. "Kiss me here," you whine softly. "Suck my nipple."

He is a better pupil than tutor. Perhaps, if you were less aroused, you would tell him to be gentler. But as it is, his eagerness is rough and hard and just what you need. The sharp pull of his mouth sends electricity through you, from your head to your toes, and you arch up against him.

"Your hand," you tell him. "Down my trousers. You thought about that, right?"

Against your breast, he nods. He bites your nipple, and you dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet. It's the middle of the night, but anyone could walk in.

He fumbles with your button and zipper, and then his hand is down the front of your jeans and you spread your legs. He palms you hard, and instinctively, you grind against the touch.

"Let me show you something." Your breathing is laboured already, just like his. He releases your breast from his mouth and meets your gaze with pupils blown wide. You feel your heartbeat under his hand.

You wriggle your jeans down to your knees and then push down your underwear too, enough that you can spread your legs and cover his hand with yours. You guide his long fingers against your cunt, and it takes no time at all to show him how hot and swollen your clit is.

"Like that," you whisper as you press his digits into a firm and fast pace.

"God," he whimpers. "You're so... you're wet."

You nod. "Yeah. Means I want you."

Without needing to be guided this time, his touch strays down, and he presses his middle finger through your folds. When he finds your entrace and slips inside, he moans so loudly that you have to clamp your hand over his mouth.

His eyes are wide and pleading with you. He watches your face so closely as he pushes a second finger inside of you, and he kisses and sucks at your palm against his mouth.

"That's good," you tell him quietly, nodding your head. "Rub circles around my clit with your thumb. Oh, God, yeah, like that. That's good, Michael. Oh, God, don't stop."

When your hand against his mouth goes slack, he takes the opportunity to kiss you again. He shoves his tongue back into your mouth and it's so messy, so needy so erotic, that you have to quickly push his hand away depsite your previous order.

"What?" he asks, suddenly panicked. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," you gasp. "Gonna make me come already."

His cheeks flush a deep red. "Really?"

He grins lopsidedly, and you whine, "want you inside."

Gulping, and with shaking hands, he unbuckles his belt and the clink of metal seems to echo loudly in the cavernous hall. He shuffles his trousers down his hips, mirroring you, and you look down to see how his hard cock strains against the soft briefs he wears. God, there shouldn't be anything sexy about the y-fronts he's sporting, but you can see the thick outline of him, his heavy balls, and its maddening.

Neither of you care that you're in public now. He pushes his underwear down, too, and when you whisper for him to lift you up, he does it with surprising easy. You kick your trousers and underwear off, spread your legs for him, and grasp the bookshelves at your back for support. His arms are hooked under your thighs and he watches with glasses slipping down his nose as his cock lines up against you.

Instinct takes over. He shoves his cock through your folds, back and forth, coating himself with your arousal, and he presses over your clit with his tip time and time again.

He moans your name too loudly.

"Shh," you soothe, as if you're not fighting with all of your strength to stay quiet. "God, that feels good."

"Inside?" he asks, unable to take his eyes off his cock on your cunt.

"If you want."

"I do." He meets your gaze. There's a vulnerability in him that you haven't seen before. And then you clench, and he feels your muscles tighten, and desire wins out. After a moment of slipping through you, he presses his blunt head against you, and pushes into you in one, swift movement.

The speed takes you by surprise. He's bigger than the vibrator you've been satisfied with lately, but that's alright. You're wet and throbbing, relaxed enough to take him. But it's still a stretch, albeit a blissful one. It's a stretch that borders the line between sweet and stinging, and tears prick your eyes. Good tears, this time.

"Okay?" he asks, voice cracking.

They drip down your cheeks but you smile, biting your lip, and nod. "Yeah. Hard. Go hard, Michael. Need- God, need you!"

And he does as you tell him. "Think about you," he grunts as he thrusts hard and fast. He's on the tip of his toes, knees bent, as he sets a brutal pace that has your body aflame. "All the... fuck, all the time. Oh! Oh!"

You clamp your hand back over his mouth to stifle his moans, and they dissolve into whimpers that match his hard, laboured breaths. They come through his nose and make the skin of your hand prickle. Michael grips your hips hard enough to bruise and it's so good, it's so fucking good. He wants you, he needs you. That's why he agreed to help you. That's why he accepted your kindness.

He likes you. Buried six inches deep in you, you realise this. It makes you bury your face into his neck, and you bite his earlobe. He whimpers in response. "Shh," you soothe.

"Close," he groans against your hand.

"Me too," you breathe. The coil in your stomach is tightening. The tension in your thighs spreads up your back, between your shoulders, and all the way down to your toes. As you wrap your legs around his slim waist, you wonder, in the back of your mind, if the shoes you still wear will leave a mark on his shirt.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, so good, fuck-!" He comes suddenly, buried deep inside you, and you feel him spurt inside of you. But it doesn't matter, you're so undone it doesn't matter, it doesn't fucking matter-!

He whines your name and presses his groin tight against your as his orgasm stutters over him. Dropping his head on your shoulder, he pants, and whispers your name.

"Michael," you protest quietly. "Plase, I'm not there, I'm-"

You rock your hips against him needily. As if it is the easiest thing in the world, he sets you down and pulls out, and immediately replaces his cock with his hand. Just as you showed him before, he buries his fingers back in your pussy and circles your clit with his thumb, and you appreciate it, you do, but it's not enough, it's not enough-

"Oh, God," you groan softly. "Like this."

You're trembling close and youre's so needy, and you grab his hand and press all fingers against your mound, showing him to press as hard and fast as he can. It hurts in the best way, and his hand is almost a blur, and he studies your face with an open mouth as your expression crinkles, tightens, your jaw slack and eyes scrunched closed.

The orgasm he gives you explodes through your body and you white out, knees giving way and balancing falling through. With his hand still firm against your cunt, he catches you and holds you steady, and you clutch against him blindly for balance. "I've got you," he grunts. "Easy."

But there's pride in his voice. He keeps his hand against you even after your orgasm has washed over you. Your flesh there twitches, hot and swollen, and his fingers gently press in different places to learn about you. Whatever information he gathers makes him smile.

After a long moment, enough strength returns to you that you can stand steadily again. "God, that was..."

"Acceptable?" he asks hopefully.

You're bending down to pull your underwear and trousers back on, and you glance up, trying not to grin. "It was good."

He smiles slightly and nods, looking away as if deep in thought. "Alright, that's good, then. Next time, should I wait for you to... to finish first?"

"Next time?" you ask with a quiet laugh. Standing upright, you do your trousers back up and he does the same, the USB still swinging from his belt.

"We have to do this again." Michael says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then, he brings the hand up covered in your wetness, and he licks his fingers clean. His eyes close in bliss. "You taste so sweet."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you smile even wider. "You don't have to do that."

Swallowing, he murmurs your name and smiles. It's the most genuine smile you've seen him wear. "Oh, I do. You know me. Always had a sweet tooth."

#michael gavey x you #michael gavey x reader #saltburn #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #mine #helaelaemond kinktober

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venusrising91 · 3 months

Text

Noise Complaint

Pairing: Wonho x Male reader

Genre: Smut, enemies to lovers/hate to love (no plot just vibezzzz)

Summary: Your new nextdoor neighbor, Wonho (Lee-ho) is a loud, inconsiderate gym rat. He keeps you up all hours of the night with his seedy escapades and you're sick of it.

Word count: 2,014 (2 pages)

T/W: aggression, physical violence

It was 4am and you had work at 8, yet rest was as far from your reach as the sun would be once it rose.

Short hours.

You had short hours to get some much needed sleep. But no matter how hard you’d tried, you hadn’t been able to reach the REM state and it was all thanks to your obnoxious, ridiculously muscular neighbor, Lee-ho.

For the third time this week, giggling voices and blaring music, followed by high-pitched moans had kept you wide awake. Usually, after one or two rounds with whatever girl he’d picked up scouring city night clubs, the mewls and slaps and yes daddys would subside, and you could finally drift. But tonight, he seemed to have endless energy. You heard his date come four times. Back to back.

It was almost 6:30 by the time they wore themselves out.

You’d barely slept. At the office, you struggled to keep your eyes open, staring through slits at the charts on your computer. The project manager noticed you nodding and called you into her office after the meeting. As head graphic designer, you were expected to oversee and execute this assignment—because securing this client would ensure you a raise next quarter, but the arrival of your new neighbor had thrown a wrench in your performance.

She threatened to take you off the project and her disappointment was all you could think about on your commute back home.

In the apartment lobby, you pressed the button on the elevator console so hard it nearly jammed.

“Sup bruh.” You whipped your head around and there was Lee-ho, all 6 feet of him, donned in gym wear and sipping on some colorful drink. You clenched your teeth.

“Hey,” you mumbled back with listless regard.

The elevator doors opened and Lee-ho walked gingerly ahead of you. Before he could step inside however, his cell slipped from his pocket. As he bent you couldn’t help but notice his butt: firm, round, muscled. You tore your eyes away and carded your hair. Inside, the music was soft and unobtrusive. The exact opposite of Lee-ho.

“How you feeling?” he asked, plunging his hands into his pockets.

“Tired.”

He snorted. “Oh yeah, me too.”

“I’m sure you are.” You glared at him, slightly envious of the angle of his jaw, of how much sharper it was than yours. And envious also of the broad span of his chest, his neat features, his lips, his hair. He was by all accounts, an objectively better looking man than you and this only added to your irritation.

“What d’you mean by that?” asked Lee-ho, quirking his brow. He must have sensed your frustration because now he was folding his arms, closing up. You didn’t care.

“You know the walls that separate us are paper thin, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

The doors slid open on your floor. “I can hear everything. All the time.” You stepped out before him, stalking down the hallway.

“My bad, dude. I’ll keep it down,” he shouted after you. There was a smug air about his tone and you ignored him as you shoved your key into the lock. It was only 7pm but you were exhausted. After a quick dinner of leftover pasta, and an even quicker shower, you went to bed, desperate to get back the hours you’d lost. You drifted in minutes, sleeping soundly, until loud music and moans yanked you from your dreams at 2am.

You leapt from the bed, pulling on a robe, not bothering to tie it. It took less than two minutes for you to reach Lee-ho’s door. You pounded on it furiously, on and on, until he swung it open. For a moment, each of you stood silently observing one another. He was fully nude, sweating and cupping his genitals as his eyes swept over you. They lingered on your chest, you noted, then trailed up to meet your gaze. Despite your robe, you felt suddenly bare, and exposed. Quickly you tied it, covering yourself from him.

“What the fuck, dude?” said Lee-ho.

“Keep it down.”

“Yeah and what if I don’t?”

“I’ll write a formal complaint. You're violating code of conduct with this shit. Some of us have actual jobs, you know?”

“I have a job.”

“Gym bro influencer and fuckboy does not an occupation make.” This was rude, and uncalled for. But you were sleep deprived. Lee-ho's shoulders slumped down a measure—he appeared somewhat diminished in the face of the insult and you almost felt bad for him. Your eyes fell on his abs however, and then, without meaning to, dipped even lower, catching a glimpse of what was too large to be completely covered by his palm. Even his cock was better than yours—he didn’t need your pity. Without waiting for a retort, you turned and stormed down the hall.

Back in your bedroom, the beginnings of an erection tugged at the tender flesh between your legs. And by the time you lay back in bed, you were rock-hard, and aching.

In the morning you shaved and contemplated calling out, but you really couldn’t afford to. At work, you tried to concentrate but all you could think of was Lee-ho, of his throbbing head, peeking up from behind his hand in the middle of the doorway. You didn’t like men. At least you thought you didn’t. You’d had a few girlfriends in the past and once or twice thought about experimenting with a guy back in college but no one ever drew you in. No one ever attracted you the way—

Enough, you weren’t doing this. What were you thinking? You weren’t into dudes and especially not ones you despised as much as Lee-ho. He probably never had to work for anything a day in his life. Just had to show up and collect everyone's praise and adulation.

Prick.

Back at the apartment, you took the stairs to avoid crossing paths with him. Thankfully it was Friday, and you could catch up on your shows without feeling guilty for missing the sleep that was so hard to come by lately.

After dinner and a shower, you binged a season of a new show on Netflix, and dozed off halfway through. But a short while later, a sharp knock on the door jolted you awake.

You shuffled to it, half-dazed. Waiting on the other side was Lee-ho, glaring a hole through your forehead.

“You know, you’re a real asshole?” he declared.

“Could say the same about you.”

“What you said the other night—you don’t talk to people like that. I want an apology.”

You scoffed and made to shut the door. But he stopped it, forcing it open. “Get off the door and fuck off,” you clipped.

“Or what?”

Impulse and anger drove you to shove him, which was stupid. His arms alone were twice the size of yours. He shoved you back and you stumbled into your apartment. Lee-ho stepped over the threshold, letting the door slam behind him. Then his hands were on you again, crashing into your chest. It knocked the air from your lungs. Enraged, you swung and missed. He caught it and wrapped his hand around your throat, pinning you against a wall. His face was inches from yours as he strangled you, but slowly, his grip loosened. Each of you were panting. He smelled expensive, like Tom Ford—the scent filled you, clouded your head and senses. His breath on you was warm, his lips resting short inches from yours. He brought them even closer, until the tips of your noses were grazing.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I—I’m not—I’m straight but…your…” he trailed off, hand sliding across your chest.

“You wanna fuck me, that it?” Neither of you said a word, only stood there, gazing, panting. Then your hand traveled down, until it landed on his crotch. You palmed his cock, and found it was already hard for you. After the other night, you couldn’t get it out of your mind. Once it was in your mouth, he made the most helpless sounds, cupping your head and guiding you as you swallowed it again and again.

“Fuck, your throat feels s-so good,” mewled Lee-ho. You fought against your gag reflex, getting harder each time he shoved it in, down to the hilt. Your eyes watered. You never thought the taste of cock could turn you on this much. Women were lovely and all but this was something else entirely. It was like satisfying some primal urge you never knew existed until now. You squeezed his balls gently, sucking him all the while. He came in minutes and stood over you shivering as the orgasm rippled through him.

You rose, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Lee-ho dropped to his knees, pulling down your boxers. He took you in his mouth and it felt like the world stopped spinning. His tongue swirled around the tip, one hand cradling your heavy balls, the other gripping your ass, a finger seeking the rosebud. He tried to slip it in but you panicked, bucking away like a spooked horse.

“I thought you said you were straight?” you whispered.

He popped your cock from his warm mouth. You twitched as he smirked up at you. “Chicks like it sometimes. I figured you might wanna give it a try. Feels tight though, got any lube?”

You hesitated, wondering what it would be like to have his finger circling inside you. There was nothing but heat and silence as you stared down at him. “In the bedroom,” you said, breathlessly.

As you lay on your back watching his chiseled body shift in the dim light, he slathered the lube you kept in your bedside drawer onto his middle finger. Then he drizzled some over your erection, spreading it with long strokes.

“Fuuuuuck,” you whined, arching at the pleasure, at the way he gripped you.

“You like that?” With this, he slid a finger inside you, taking it slow. The pressure had you arching even more. Once he eased you past the initial pain, all you could do was moan and claw and look down at your rock-hard cock as he pumped you in two places, at different paces. In the front he squeezed tight, giving you fast, steady strokes, but in that pulsing spot between your cheeks he worked you soft and deep, taking his time as his finger explored your depths. The pressure was glorious, and you felt your entrance contracting around him. “You’re dripping for me,” he cooed. You looked down at yourself as he gripped the base, a long rope dangling from the tip onto your stomach. He licked it, dragging the pad of his tongue along your abs, then swallowed you whole. After a few hard sucks he pulled back, finger still buried in you, coaxing out spasms you couldn't control. Fuck he was so attractive, you never thought a man could make you feel this good.

The next moment, you were shooting ropes in the air, convulsing under him and fisting the sheets as he drained you. He let you pant there, chest heaving, before taking your length back into his mouth. He sucked and finger-fucked you through your sensitivity, ignoring your loud moans and cries. You asked him to stop but you didn’t mean it. You wanted more and he gave it to you. All night. After your third orgasm you could barely stay conscious.

Lee-ho crept beside you, watching as you shivered your way through the leavings of your latest high.

“I’m s-sorry,” you muttered between waves of it, “about the other day. You’re right, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ll be quiet from now on, promise.”

You couldn’t quite keep your eyes open, and drifted then, still tingling from what he'd done to you. Your rest went uninterrupted for the first time in weeks. But when you woke, Lee-ho was gone.

From then on, the noise had stopped, just like he'd promised. But a few times a week, just before bed, there came a knock at your door, and a smirking, half-naked Lee-ho waiting on the other side of it.

#wonho imagines #lee wonho #lee hoseok #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #shin wonho #lee hoseok smut #monstax smut #monsta x wonho #kpop x you #kpop x y/n #wonho x reader #wonho x you #yaoi #bl manhwa #mm romance #male reader

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vioartemis · 1 year

Text

I love her so much...

(Jenna Ortega x fem! reader)

Summary: After she comes home late in the night, Jenna and you have a fight Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 2 [au] Request is here :)) Warnings: angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You had been Jenna's girlfriend for almost two years, but lately, your relationship wasn't at its best. Rather at its worse actually. She had been ignoring you lately, and it was starting to be difficult to deal with.

You were alone at your shared appartement, in tears, when the doorbell rang. You got up shakily and made your way to the door, opening it for the girl behind it.

"Hey..." she said

"Hey..." you replied

You stepped to the side so she could enter, but quickly broke down in her arms.

"I don't know what to do Emma... I can't... I can't do this anymore..."

The girl held you close and rubbed your back, before leading you to the couch where you could both sit.

"I know, I understand... Maybe..." she bit her lip

"What...?"

"If you wait for her to come home you could talk, get things straight..."

"I don't even know if she will come home tonight..."

"It's okay, I'm sure she will... I'll stay with you until then if you want..."

"Yes please..."

Time passed by, and quickly it was 2am.

As you were still crying in Emma's arms, you heard the door of your appartement open, followed by footsteps. Jenna was home. Finally.

She entered the room, putting her keys back in her bag, and froze and she saw you.

"Where the fuck where you?" you asked

"Are you cheating on me?"

You couldn't believe your ears. Did she really asked that?

"I should probably go..." Emma said, getting up

"No, stay" you tell her, before turning to your girlfriend "You're seriously asking me if I am cheating on you?"

To everyone's surprise, you let out a laugh.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You've been ignoring me for weeks, and I am the one who's cheating? You get up so early and come back so late I don't even see you anymore! And when you don't you spend all your time with Percy! "

"I'm sick of your jealousy Y/n! I told you there's nothing between Percy and I-"

"I know!" you cut her off "But you spend all your time with him! It's like I don't exist anymore! Do you even care about me? About us?"

"Of course I do!"

"Okay then. What day is it?"

"What? I don't know the... the 4th of July?"

"And?"

"And what?"

"What. Day. Is. It?" you repeated, throat tight

She stayed silent. You could tell she was thinking hard. Which hurt you even more.

"I- I don't know, Y/n."

You chuckled, whipping the tears in your eyes with shaky hands. You wanted to believe she would remember. You wanted to believe you were important to her. She just crushed all your hopes.

"It's our anniversary, Jenna. Was our anniversary, considering that it's 2am now. You really do care a lot, huh?"

You watched as realization hit her. Maybe she did care a little after all.

"So you spent our anniversary with Emma?"

Or not.

"Don't try to turn the situation around. I spent all day waiting for you. I had everything planned. I thought we would finally be able to be together and talk about us." you felt your anger rising "I called you 27 times. 27 fucking times Jenna. You never picked up, not once. I texted you too. Still no answer. So yes, I called Emma. It was already past midnight. I called her once, and guess what? She answered and came, even at that time."

You had to take a deep breath to prevent tears from rolling down your cheeks.

"Y/n I'm sorry I was-"

"With Percy? Figured that out."

"No it's not-"

"Jesus, Jenna! Stop trying to find excuses! Stop pretending that you care about us! You didn't even remember it was our anniversary!"

"Of course I care I- there's just... a lot going on right now... But I love you Y/n..."

You couldn't help another chuckle to escape your throat.

"No, you don't love me! You ignore my calls, my texts, you don't kiss me anymore, you don't talk to me anymore, you don't even look at me anymore! How can you say you love me when you do all that...?"

"I do! I- I love you I-"

"If you really loved me you would've picked up. Read my texts. Answered me in any way. But you didn't, Jenna. You left me alone on the day of our anniversary, crying all the tears in my body when I understood you wouldn't come."

"But I didn't know! If I knew you were crying I would've-"

"Of course you didn't know. How would you know, considering you barely say hello to me these days? And what would you have done? Taking me in your arms, telling me everything would be okay, even though we both know it's not true?"

"N-no I- I would've... I would've..."

She too had tears in her eyes now. She was hurt, and it only made things worst for you. But you had to. You couldn't continue living like this.

"It's too late, Jenna. I- I can't..."

"What...?"

"I can't keep up doing this." you took another deep breath, fist clenched hard "It's over, Jenna."

It hurt you to do this, but she didn't leave you any other choice. This relationship had become toxic, and for your own good, you had to end it.

"What...?" she repeated "N-no Y/n wait..."

You took a little box out of your pocket and threw it at her. She caught it, confused.

"Here, your anniversary gift."

You then walked past her, to the door.

"What are you doing...?" the brunette asked, her voice trembling

"I'm leaving." you had to make an insane effort not to cry "I'll be back tomorrow to pack my things."

You didn't wait for an answer and got out of the appartement, Emma following you.

Deep down, you hoped she would burst out of the flat and follow you, try to hold you back, do anything that could prove she still loved you. But she didn't.

You arrived on the sidewalk without anyone to stop you. That did it for you.

You broke down again, in the middle of the street, letting all the tears flood down your cheeks, all the sadness, the pain, out. Your heart was in million pieces.

And again, Emma took you in her arms, patting your back gently.

Jenna didn't move from her previous position, in the middle of your living room. She was devastated, tears rolling down her cheeks. She never meant to push you away. She felt like she had ruined everything. And it was the truth. She did.

She wanted to run after you, tell you she was sorry, tell you she would try to be better, to be more here, anything that could make you come back. But her legs weren't working. No matter how hard she tried to move, she couldn't.

Her own incapacity to do anything only made her cry more. With a cry, she finally managed to move and stumbled to the window.

And what she saw really broke her.

You, in Emma's arms, again. You were crying, again, because of her.

She loved you, she really did. But all she did was hurting you lately. She didn't deserve you. You didn't deserve to be with someone like her.

Maybe it was better if she didn't try to hold you back...

You wanted to run back to her, hold her tight, kiss her, tell her you didn't mean it, tell her you loved her... But you couldn't. It was simply not good for you.

Your cries only intensified at the thought.

"Y/n..."

"I love her so much..." you cried out, voice hoarse from crying

"I know... I know..."

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#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem reader

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