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multiwreckedmess · 11 months

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Kinktober Day 14

Prompt: Humiliation Pairing: nonidol!Jeongin (I.N) x olderfem!reader WC: 2k Summary: You’ve had a day. You need a drink. Alone preferably. And yet here comes the boy who has been staring you down all night.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Jeongin (I.N) or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

TW/CW Preface. Jeongin uses the word “noona” to refer to the reader. I just really couldn’t think of a better word to refer (cutely) to a woman older than you but not “mommy” and part of what this specific version of him gets off on is the power of fucking someone older than him. ANYWAY if that give you the ick, turn back now.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: fucking in a bathroom, humiliation, degradation, reader nicknames- (noona, ONE instance of “mommy”, whore, dumb slut, slut, disgusting), under negotiated kink, cum in panties, dubcon (they’re drunk, most agree that consent at this point is...well murky AT BEST), ROUGH sex (gagging, underprepped, no aftercare). Age gap *(unspecified, reader is older)

“Oh no no no,” you stopped the young man in his tracks. “You are much too young for me baby boy.” He hadn’t spoken a single word to you yet, spending most of the night staring at you from the corner of the bar as many other men had all of your life. You didn’t need to know much, his sweet dimpled face told you everything you needed to know. Old enough to drink, sure, but certainly too young for you. “Aw,” his voice sounds disappointed yet determined as he smiles. “Noona, you haven’t even let me speak, you don’t know why I’m here.” Coolly taking another sip of your drink, you look at him from the corner of your eye. “I know you’ve been staring at me all night. It’s enough to make assumptions.” “So you’re like a museum piece? I can look but I can’t touch?” He sticks the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he smiles and winks cheekily. You let out an exasperated sigh, the line was cheesy but his audacity was admirable. Looking straight ahead you down your drink, if this was what the night was, leave it up to Bacchus, not your brain. “Do you have an elevator pitch or do I have to suffer more bad lines?” “The elevator pitch, noona, is that younger guys are the trend. You seem like a trendsetter. It seems like a great opportunity for you to increase your portfolio and it just so happens that I have availability for tonight.” “I regret the elevator pitch, buy me a drink or do you need to call your parents to authorize the charge?” “No mommy, I’m a big boy in more than one way.” He tries to wink and cringes. “That was bad. I'm sorry, I’ll grab your next drink if you let me.” Eyes wide with disbelief you weigh your options, send the kid away or see what the night brings. In reality he can’t be THAT much younger than you. You’re both here in a bar, drinking,he has to be at least twenty one years old. Unless he has a fake, the devious little shit. You’ve already spent more time with him than you’d originally intended. Before you’re able to politely wave him off your smartwatch pings and you go delving into the depths of your purse. In the time it takes you to dig the bartender is back and the kid is ordering you and himself another round. “I thought you said ‘if you let me’ I don’t recall giving you permission.” “You seemed preoccupied and if i’m being honest, a little stressed. No pressure, you can enjoy it without me, or with me. You must admit I’m at least a little exciting, I might be fun to keep around a bit longer.” Fighting your smile you nod nonchalantly to the barstool next to you. “The seat’s open.”

You don’t remember how many drinks you’ve had but it’s enough to be following him to the bathroom. Him -Jeongin, IN, Innie- he had so many names from his friends and family. It was less alcohol than you’d hoped before you’d fallen to his boyish charm. Eager, honest, and way too fucking into you to pass up. His hand is on your lower back as the two of you walk towards the back, almost as if you’re going to exit through the kitchen instead of heading to one of the three single occupancy bathrooms. Touching the doorknob you hesitate briefly, door creaking under the light pressure. Jeongin is on you before the door even finishes opening, spinning you around to face him, hands on your hips as he backs you through the door in an impassioned kiss. “What if someone sees?” You half whisper as he kisses your neck, fumbling with the small zipper of your skirt. “Then they’ll know we’re fucking,” he states simply, giving up on the skirt and yanking your blouse free. “Do you have a problem with that?” The heat of embarrassment creeps at the sides of your face and twists in your gut pleasantly. “Isn’t it…they’d know…” your tongue ties, a girlish giggle from a fluttering heart interrupting. Jeongin isn’t helping as he pushes the cups of your bra down, thumbs running over your nipples as he hurries to free your breasts. “Does that excite you? Someone walking in on you getting fucked by some stranger in a shit bathroom in a shity dive bar?” Jeongin pinches your nipples slightly, your eyes rolling as you bite back a moan. “It does.” “What does?” He pinches your nipples again. “Fucking a stranger in a shitty dive bar.” Your heart jumps, just saying it outloud feels exciting. Hearing his words in your voice feels more real. “What does fucking a stranger do?” His lips ghost over your neck as he nearly whispers, each consonant buzzing against you. Hand traveling between your thighs, the tips of his fingers rub circles in the cotton fabric of your underwear, right above your clit. “Turns me on, fuck, Jeongin!” You squeal The squish of your damp panties is proof enough of his handiwork. “And you thought a kid like me couldn’t have a woman like you.” He laughs, nibbling at the column of your throat. “So wet for me already. Can control everything but that needy cunt of yours. Who got you this worked up? Pushing the gusset of your panties aside his middle finger plays at your entrance, circling slowly, barely dipping in. “You did,” you gasp, hips canting to try to trick him into slipping further down your channel.

Gathering some of your essence on his fingers he backs off, playing with the strands clinging between his fingers. “Clean them,” he offers to you, your eyes already glazed over an unfocused as you lean into the tiled wall. You do it, eagerly. Taking his digits into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them. Sucking him clean and then some. “So your mouth is good for something,” he coos pressing your mouth open to fuck along the soft pink surface of your tongue. Watching drool pool and spill from the corners of your lips. “You’re so much hotter when you give into me. Just like this. Why don’t you put that smart little mouth around my cock?”

There’s no discussion, you simply slip to the floor, knees pressing into the cold dirty tile. “Disgusting” you mutter to yourself. Grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Jeongin tilts your head up, looming over you. “Just like you. Now open and stick your tongue out like the dumb slut you are.” Eyes wide you comply. His lips purse as he summons a globule of spit, letting it cling to his lips as it drops slowly down to your mouth. “Keep it open,” he demands, freeing his stiffened member from its confines. Using the tip he pushes his spit along your tongue, watching his length eclipse the velvety pink surface. “Just look at how sweet you can be,” he coos, “from here you aren’t so scary at all are you, noona?” Doe-eyed you look up at him and shake your head no. Holding your jaw as open as you can for him, relaxing all the way through the back of your throat as he pushes deeper. The stretch at the hinges of your jaw is almost painful as he smiles down at you, the cute dimples suddenly seem sinister when paired with his actions. It sends a shiver all the way down to your core. You’re so pent up you could scream, instead whimpering and squeezing your thighs together for relief. Guilty that it turns you on so much you can barely form thoughts as he fucks into your open mouth, hand cushioning the back of your head from the tile wall.

Kicking your knees apart, Jeongin slides his shoe under your ass as you hump blindly against his leg. It provides some, albeit humiliating, relief to your throbbing cunt. “Just what would your colleagues think? Humping my leg like a flithy slut. A professional like you getting broken down by a boy like me.” He finally pushes all the way back, breaching the ring of muscle at the top of your throat as you gag around him. Mucus and spit and tears covering your cheeks and chin, eyes glazed over. “Doing alright?” Jeongin asks sweetly, hand slowly wiping the mess across your face. “Fuck me. Please. Please. I need it so badly. I’m so ready for you baby please.” “Get up.” You wobble still half drunk on alcohol half drunk on hormones, leaning into the wall for support. “Grab the sink.” The white ceramic of the sink is cool against your overheated skin as you hold onto the edge of the basin, waiting. Blurry eyed you watch him through the mirror in front of you, like the killer in a horror movie about to claim his next victim. He looks wild while you look like a wreck, makeup running down your cheeks and hair in knots. He hoists your skirt to your waist, pushing your soaked panties to the side. “You won’t need any prep right? You’ve taken cock enough right? I’m just a young guy, it’ll be no problem for you with all your experience.” Your mouth opens to beg him to go slow, instead it feels like your gut is punched through your esophagus as his blunt head bullies its way between your walls. The stretch sudden and brutal. Sliding forward with him, hips bruising against the lip of the sink, your face smushes into the mirror in front of you with a reedy whine. “Shit, you’re tight noona. Fuck.” He grunts as he rocks closer to you, steadying for a second before he begins in earnest. Fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass he pulls almost all the way back, savoring the feeling of your walls tugging him back in eagerly. The dip of your back arches more dramatically as he thrusts forward, drawing another whine from you. Pulling you upright and tight to his chest his hand covers your mouth tightly. “Do you want everyone to know I’m ruining you? Or are you just so fucked out you don’t care anymore.” “Fucked,” you sob, spit coating the palm of his hand. “Good. Fucked.” He thrusts up again. The combination of slight angle change and the press of the sink against your groin has his tip aimed directly into the soft target of your spot. It’s overwhelmingly good as he jackhammers into you, hips snapping ruthlessly. Panting your body shifts violently between limp and clenched, unsure of how to handle the overload of pain and pleasure. “Go ahead slut, cum on my cock. You’re lucky I’m even letting you.” He sneers, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. The tickle of his breath is what sends you over the edge, shaking and gasping as your walls clamp around him. He leans the both of you forward as you vision darkens, body slackening against the mirror. Cheek pressed to your lower back you both pant as he withdraws suddenly, staggering back from you slightly.

You hardly notice he’s left you like that, only alerted by the click of the door unlocking and closing again. In your post climax sobriety you realize you have no idea if he’d even bothered to wear a condom. Slowly your hand slides over your ass, nearly gagging at the smear of sticky residue stuck to the inside of your underwear. Drifting higher to pull your skirt down, something small like a clothing tag pokes you.

A business card. “I got your tab, call me,” scrawled hastily on the back.

Sorry i’m off my groove I actually wrote this one three fucking times. One veered into A/B/O territory which is so out of my league like i don’t know what i was thinking. Love reading it, no idea how to write it.

Anyway I’m going to make my way againnnnn!

#jeongin smut #yang jeongin smut #i.n smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #kpop smut #kpop kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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kittyoncescribbled · 1 month

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Preacher's Daughter

Pairing: Gator Tillman x Reader

Summary: After a terrible experience, you get to meet Gator, who is fascinated by your pristine nature;

Word count: 1,465;

Rating/Content Warnings: PG-16, AFAB reader, guns, violence;

Author’s note: Hi, guys! First time writing for Gator. Feedback would be deeply appreciated. Please reblog/like if you enjoy this!

Previous chapter || Next chapter

Y/N was taking her time at the grocery store, her earbuds in her ears, the music loud enough to drown out the voices and noises, and a phone in her hands so she could check the list her mother had given her. Her glossy lips moved in silence as she mouthed the lyrics to the song with a slight move on her hips as if she were holding herself back from dancing in public.

That all came to a halt when a gun was pointed directly at her face.

With trembling hands, Y/N removed her earbuds and kneeled, feeling her eyes stinging with tears and her mouth getting dry. The masked man, still pointing the gun at her, rudely snatched the phone from her hands, shoving it down his pocket; unceremoniously, the man grabbed Y/N by her hair and dragged her to the front of the counter where she joined the rest of the shoppers and a few of the workers; the young woman, with her face now stained with tears, bit her lips as to not scream from fear and pain. From what Y/N could see, there were three masked robbers in the storefront, while at least two others were in the back, yelling at employees to move and other expletives. The sounds of beatings were unmistakable, and Y/N started once again to move her lips silently - now, on a prayer.

The robbers were getting more and more agitated; it seemed as if they weren’t making as much money from the robbery as they were expecting and were now resorting to violence to make patrons and employees hand what they had in them: wallets, watches, phones, anything. Y/N took out her smartwatch and handed it along with her earbuds, as her phone had been taken before. With tears in her eyes, Y/N tried unclasping the gold scapular she had around her neck, but her hands were shaky and clammy by now. One of the robbers was yelling and threatening to pull it out of her neck himself until an older lady stepped up and managed to remove the necklace. That same old lady stood by, hugging Y/N and telling her everything would be ok.

Y/N wouldn’t be able to explain what had happened; all she knew was that in one moment, she was clinging to this older woman for dear life, and the next, she had shattered glass all over her hair and face; people were screaming and one of the employees threw himself on top of her and the old lady, forcing them to get down. Time seemed to have turned into something viscous, like honey or molasses; it was like Y/N was seeing everything move in slow motion: black boots invading the place, blood splattered on the floor, more glass being shattered and crushed. The metallic smell of blood made Y/N feel like she was about to get sick, and the noise of guns going off was deafening. Y/N didn’t even realize it, but she screamed at this point.

Eventually, things seemed to calm down - or that’s what she thought, as she couldn’t hear any more guns, and the faint blue and red lights she could see outside the grocery store meant the police were there. For the first time since it all started, the woman felt like she could breathe again, even if her breaths were shallow and shaken. As the man deemed things safe enough to get up, she pulled herself up to sit while he helped the older lady. Y/N was still too shaken, so she didn’t try getting up on her feet; she simply hugged herself and gave graces for being safe.

Y/N couldn’t tell how much time she had spent sitting on the floor, but she was brought back from reality when a calloused hand tapped her on the shoulder.

“Miss? Are you hurt?” Y/N snapped her eyes open, staring directly into a pair of warm brown eyes — baby cow eyes adorned by thick eyelashes and dark circles. The owner of said pair of eyes didn’t seem fazed by the chaos around them, with medical staff tending to people and other policemen handling the robbers.

Y/N managed to nod; “Are you hurt? Do you need the medics to take a look?” he said, his eyes scanning her face. Apart from a few cuts, she seemed to have come out of this situation well enough, but better safe than sorry. “No, I’m ok… I think. I wasn’t sh-shot or anything.” ‘Ok, that’s good. Just be careful. You have some glass in your hair,” he said, picking some shards with his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N… Y/N Y/L/N”.

“Ok, Miss Y/L/N. Someone will take your statement, and after that, you’re good to go.” The man, crouched while talking to Y/N, got up and offered his hand, which Y/N took to get back to her feet. “Thank you… I’m sorry, I didn't get your name.” “Gator Tillman, miss.”

Gator felt his heart skipping a bit while taking a good look at Y/N for the first time; her glossy eyes and eyelashes were made to look thicker due to the tears, the full lips still a bit trembly, the curly hair that was now a mess but was clearly well cared of, the tear-stained face and the figure that was hidden under a couple of layers of clothes, but that Gator’s trained eyes were able to determine that yes, he could very well see himself grabbing Y/N by the waist.

Another officer took over the statement, and Gator walked away outside, where he met his father, who looked inside, hands on his hips and a cigar on his lips. “That one girl inside, is that Y/N Y/L/N?” “... Yeah, how do you even know her?” “That’s preacher Y/L/N’s girl. Is she hurt?” “She’s fine, just some scratches.”

Roy nodded. “Good. Make sure that she gets home safe, Gator. Drive her there. Go wait in the car; I’ll let the officer know to guide her to the car when they’re done with the statement”. Gator could feel his ears getting hot, “O-ok, dad. Sure.” “Her parents live in the brown house right next to the church. You drive her there and make sure she walks into the house”.

Gator walked back to the car while lighting a cigar, taking a deep breath, and thinking of the paperwork this would generate. Roy ruled Stark County with an iron fist, but crimes like this one were getting more common by the day, and with that, his workload was growing, too.

Eventually, Y/N left the grocery store accompanied by the officer who took her statement. Gator threw the cigarette butt to the ground and got in the car. The officer opened the door for Y/N, who climbed into the passenger seat. She thanked the officer with a barely whisper voice and a small smile.

The drive was silent, with only the police radio filling the void. Y/N clasped her hands together on her knees, bouncing her legs nervously while staring through the windows. Gator tried his best to keep his eyes on the road but couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances from her, trying not to stare at her legs or chest.

Making their way into Y/N’s street, Gator parked the car in front of the brown car as instructed by Roy and managed to get out and run across the car in time to open the door for Y/N, who thanked him with a shy smile. She walked up to her door with Gator following her closely.

“Look, I don’t know how these things go…” Y/N said, nervously tugging at the hem of her shirt and biting on her bottom lip. Gator let himself rest against the porch of the house and gestured for her to continue while consciously trying not to stare at her lip. “But they took my scapular. It’s a gold scapular, with the Virgin Mary on it. And it’s very special to me. My grandma gave it to me for my first communion. Is there any way for me to get it back?”

Gator looked at Y/N, her big eyes glistening with more tears, her face blushing, and he knew that she could’ve asked him for almost anything, and he would say yes to her even if it only meant the slightest chance of ruining her.

“Sure, don’t worry. I’ll see what I can do.” She offered Gator a genuine smile for the first time, and he could feel his knees growing weak. “Thank you, mr. Tillman. I appreciate it.” “No, no mr. Tillman. I’m just Gator.”

“Gator. Ok. Thank you.”

With that, Y/N walked into the house and Gator made his way back to his car, thinking about how to expedite getting Y/N’s things back from evidence.

#joe keery #gator tillman fanfic #gator fargo #gator tillman #gator x reader #gator

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dutifullynuttywitch · 2 months

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Redemption is a Perpetual Journey

Series: Bloodbound

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed x Gaius Augustine

Rating: Mature (angst)

Word count: 1,491

A little birthday gift for the amazing @thosehallowedhalls ! Based on a chat we had... and because you have made me see our dear Gaius in a new forgiving light 🤭 I hope you have an amazing day - you deserve happiness and all good things! I'm so glad I met you, Caro 🌺🎉

The year is 3024.

The world had transformed beyond recognition.

Vast expanses of the earth had become unliveable, forcing its inhabitants to shelter in massive city-states.

The city of Novopolis had risen from the ruins of New York during the times of upheaval.

It sprawls beneath a massive shimmering dome, its skyscrapers reaching for the artificial sky like thousands of jagged steel fingers.

The domes were built centuries ago, consequence of the ozone layer’s depletion. Humankind in its hubris having failed to reverse the climate crisis. This development had been convenient for the vampires who could now walk in the daylight amongst humans, cyborgs and all manner of supernatural beings.

Kamilah Sayeed lands smoothly in a forested park on the outskirts of the glittering, fast-paced city.

A tap on her smartwatch, the lightweight wings disappear into her outfit.

She takes in her surrounding with a sharp glance. Smoothing her sleek dress. The digitally-enhanced fabric changes to align with her desired look – an elegantly dark don’t fuck with me style that makes her feel powerful, in control.

Today, she needs to be in control.

A thousand years had passed since they had defeated the original vampire, the Goddess Rheya. Since that fateful conversation with her sire, her on-and-off lover for nearly two thousand years.

******

2024

“Kamilah… in Japan… you said one good deed doesn’t undo all the evil I’ve caused. How many do you think it would take… to call me friend?”

“Come talk to me in a thousand years. I’ll let you know what I think then.”

“A thousand years…” he smiles wryly, “I suppose I could give it a try.”

*****

Gaius Augustine had been true to his oath.

The vampire had spent the past millennia wandering the known world, hunting down criminals and supernatural villains without reprieve. He seemed to have kept mostly to himself, not staying anywhere long enough to build attachments. Only leaving a trail of whispers of his exploits across continents.

Avoiding all contact with other vampires, anyone from his old life.

That was fine by her.

Kamilah had not wanted to see him. She remained angry at how he had degraded her, corrupted her into becoming a killing machine for thousands of years. But more so, Kamilah was furious at how she had let herself be seduced by his charisma, his allure. Allowed him to tempt her into following his murderous inclinations for so long. No, it would be disingenuous to lay all the blame at her maker’s feet.

And there was the issue of Rheya. Gaius had said she was not completely to blame for his behaviour, though she had locked away his empathy, his ability to feel guilt. How would their lives have turned out without her toxic influence?

At least, the pain had dulled over the centuries.

She had begun to forgive herself.

As for Gaius, she would see.

Kamilah takes a deep breath, composing herself.

The elegant vampire sets off at a leisurely pace, strolling beneath the shade of tall trees.

She heads towards a massive wooden bridge crossing a stream. A vestige of New York. Nothing made of wood was created anymore, the few surviving forests too precious to misuse so.

Kamilah crosses paths with humans, faes and other mystical beings. Most now have artificial limbs and enhancements thanks to growing advancements in biohacking.

Lily would have thrived in this environment.

Kamilah vividly remembers the vibrant, energetic young woman who had sacrificed her life to help defeat Rheya. Lily’s contagious positivity and selflessness had managed to thaw her heart a little.

The other members of their ragtag crew – Adrian, Amy, Jax, Seraphine, Nikhil – also held a soft spot, though each had followed their own paths over the centuries.

“Kamilah.”

Gaius’s soft whisper jolts the woman from her musings.

“A thousand years apart, and yet here we stand.”

He stops a few feet from her, movements uncertain.

Quickly calming her heartbeat, Kamilah takes in his appearance.

Physically, he had changed little. Those same handsome, sharp features. That charming, deviously seductive smile. That ageless face.

Though a constellation of new scars told a story, centuries of rough living. His blue eyes now held a certain melancholy.

“I’ve missed you.”

He smiles tentatively, his angular face softening slightly.

Kamilah remains silent. Observing him.

Attempting to process the chaos of emotions churning deep within her.

Together, they had danced, loved, hated and fought through epochs, their passion always an unbreakable thread. But now, after so many centuries apart, he felt like a stranger to her.

Kamilah’s gaze turns away, sweeping over the cityscape.

“Novopolis. A monument to human resilience. And yet, it lacks the wild beauty of our old world.”

They lean against the worn bridge, staring out at the jagged skyscrapers. Letting the sunlight warm their exposed skin. The dome above them hums softly, shielding them from the toxic atmosphere beyond.

“That is does. I miss the vast forests of old. How one had to spend months hidden on cramped ships to travel between continents. Spend weeks on horseback, traversing vast fields and woodlands, our bodies stiff with the harsh journeys. I had never felt more alive. Now, everything feels fast-paced, ephemeral.”

“Except us. We remain constant through all of it, unchanged.”

“Are we truly unchanged?”

Gaius asks, turning to her, gazing into her eyes intently. As if her response meant everything to him. Could perhaps redeem him.

Kamilah returns his gaze. Silent. Her face an undecipherable mask.

The man sighs.

“I have done my best to atone for my past deeds. Though it can never erase all the harm I’ve brought this world, I dare hope that somewhere down the line, I… I will begin to hate myself less. And perhaps, so will you…”

Those last few words are whispered. A confession to himself, to her.

Kamilah’s gaze finally softens. The tension eases from her shoulders.

“Gaius, for the longest time I have blamed you for our bloody rampage across Europe. For nearly destroying New York. Killing Amy, and countless others. Truth be told, I have my share of misdeeds to atone for. I am still working on forgiving myself."

Gaius takes her hands in his, willing her to look at him.

“My dear, you have always been the greater one. My moral compass. I will forever regret not heeding your advice during my darkest moments. Gods if I could take it all back…”

“But we can’t. We can only move forward.”

Those hands. Kamilah shivers unwillingly at the familiar warmth, as a surge of memories overwhelm her senses. Oh, how these hands had caressed her so tenderly, sensually for centuries. Traced every curve of her body, memorized her intimately, elicited a range of pleasure and emotions that no other being – man or woman – had been able to match since. How these same hands had also threatened her, hurt her and her loved ones. Caused her uncountable grief and sorrow.

What were they to her now?

He notices the conflicting emotions flashing across her exquisite face and steps closer, sliding his hands up, caressing her arms, shoulders, wanting to ease her pain. Somehow.

On impulse, Kamilah reaches out, tracing his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Such familiar features. That soft skin, so warm.

He closes his eyes, leaning into her delicate touch. The shadow of a smile dances on the corners of his lips.

“Gaius, will we ever find peace?”

He opens his eyes, locking onto hers. A mix of emotions flickering in those endless pools. Sadness, self-loathing, tenderness… and hope.

“Perhaps. Perhaps… we can attempt to continue our journeys of atonement together?”

Kamilah closes her eyes at that, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Gaius gathers her into his arms tenderly. She buries her face into the crook of his neck and breathes in his familiar scent, hints of leather and earthy notes. Allowing herself to be vulnerable for a moment.

Just a moment.

As the city buzzes in the distance, Kamilah whispers against his warm skin, regretfully.

“I am not certain I am ready for that.”

Gaius holds her tighter, unable to let her go just yet. He nods his understanding into her obsidian hair, bending towards her ear to murmur

“I have waited a thousand years to see you again. For you, my queen, I will wait a thousand more.”

#bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #gaius augustine #choices fanfics #fanfiction #choices: stories you play #gift for a friend #vampire #dystopian #angst #playchoices #playchoice #choices stories you play #blood bound

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fonaccgadgets · 6 months

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The World of Fonacc FirstLady Bluetooth Calling Smart Watch

The Fonacc FirstLady Bluetooth Calling Smart Watch offers a range of features, including the ability to make and receive calls, track fitness activities, monitor heart rate, and display notifications. Its stylish design and advanced functionalities make it a versatile accessory for modern lifestyles.

#Smartwatch #Smart Lady Watch #Woman Smartwatch #Bluetooth Calling Smart Watch #FirstLady Woman Smartwatch

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obsessedtomone · 9 months

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Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 1 - Convenience ▸Shigaraki x femReader

Summary: “Say, I’ll make you a killer deal,” he begins, the tone of his voice deceptively even, failing to mask the coldness. “If you fucking apologize to me right now, and manage to clear things up with the professor before—” He slides his sleeve just above his expensive-looking smartwatch and casually checks the time, “—the class ends, in about… mmh, give or take three minutes? I promise you won't regret this as much as you will if you do go through with this stupid shit you started with me.”

His face breaks into a slow and creepy smile as he threatens you, body emanating nothing other than incredible malice.

You wish you could turn back time and never cross his path, that stupid night at the store.

You wish you were a different, nicer person, one that knows when to bow their head or to apologize if they messed up.

But you weren’t and you won’t. Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three

Chapter 1 - Convenience Pitter-patter.

With a pop of your joints, you reach for the moon or the ceiling or maybe the gods above. You reach and you reach and finally you feel that satisfying stretch burn through your muscles.

What time is it anyway?

Uh-oh.

You cringe, because the birds are chirping, the first light of the day is starting to show, and because… you’ve been gaming your entire fucking Saturday night.

It’s 4:30 AM when you check your phone.

—And you could’ve been studying, could’ve been in touch with your project buddies, to at least send them your part of the project in time. But you didn’t and you won’t.

Not at least until tomorrow anyway.

Tomorrow, probably around ten minutes before your group’s deadline.

Yeah, you’re that special kind of asshole.

Looking around yourself, you realize that—all of the sudden, the room feels so fucking stuffy you could suffocate. It’s messy and god fucking knows when you opened your goddamn windows last.

So that’s exactly what you decide to spend your next action point on, as your mind briefly wandered back to your past few Valorant matches.

You actually stayed up late, trying your best to climb to Diamond and dealing with the hyper-misogyny of random pathetic incel teammates who immediately shit themselves the moment a woman opens her mouth on mic.

Whatever.

At least you weren’t living in your mommy’s basement, swimming in a sea of trash, right?

You glance around your room and wince.

Okay, maybe you’re swimming in like—a puddle of trash.

But that’s okay, because you’re definitely way above those goblins on a societal level… right?

You don’t dwell very much on that particular thought.

With a yawn, you reach for the windows and open them wide. The cool air of soft autumn rain invades your stale room the second you open them, replacing the warm stuffiness of your man-cave and filling your lungs with fresh oxygen.

You wonder how long it’s been raining for already, when you feel your stomach—the one vital organ you’ve purposefully been ignoring all night—growling. What did you eat today?

When the fuck did you eat last, actually?

“Uuugh—” you whine, finally feeling the shakiness of your hands and the overall weakness of your body.

On your way towards your joke of a kitchen, you decide what flavor cup noodles to scarf down quickly before you hit the hay. Your internal debate is torn between two particular flavors, before you open the cupboard and realize—there aren’t any instant noodles left.

God fucking damn it.

You briefly glance down over your sorry excuse of an outfit—one that would put homeless people to shame—made up of plain black sweats and an oversized black hoodie, noting how you should also maybe perhaps take a fucking shower after literally sweat-gaming all day.

Fuck it, you think, taking a total of two seconds to decide that this was good enough for the world, before you set off to the nearest twenty-four hour convenience store.

So you grab your phone, your keys, and that’s what you do.

────────

Despite the hints of a rising sun, it’s still pretty dark outside. The air smells like fresh morning rain and wet concrete.

You don’t mind, because to your own delight, it couldn’t be quieter around here.

The neighborhood you live in is incredibly sketchy, but you couldn’t complain given it’s barely a fifteen minute walk to your university and the rent to your rundown one-bedroom apartment is dirt fucking cheap.

It suits the broke ass bitch that you are and you like it this way—one, because you have a thing for sketchy run-down places and two… because it’s yours and yours alone.

The totally-legal-and-definitely-wont-blind-you pepper spray you bought from the shadiest internet store sits snugly in the pocket of your hoodie, one hand occasionally fidgeting and feeling the rim of the object.

Knowing you have something to use in your defense makes you feel safer when you’re outside. You never know when something unpleasant could go down.

You’re so used to being on-guard after all the years of shitty experiences.

Of being on your own.

Of stupid shit that kept happening to you.

So you walk, if only with a smear of anxiety, because you still need to stay vigilant and not put the universe to a fucking test.

The first thing you notice when you waltz into the corner store, is how goddamn bright the fluorescent lights are. They’re far too bright for your tired eyes that are used to endless hours of staring into dimmed screens with the lights off.

The second thing you notice is how eerily quiet it is inside—save for the whirring, clicking and occasional gurgling of the refrigerators in the back. Or at least that’s where you think the sounds come from.

It’s odd that the current shift didn’t think of turning on the radio to fill the silence—to make this place feel less like a ‘bad end’ location from a horror game—but a quick glance towards the staff at the counter and their wireless earpieces tells you that they couldn’t give less of a fuck about the store’s ambiance.

Not that it matters, when you’re too busy surveying the shelves in search of some food, of something edible, the ‘food’ in question consisting mostly of snacks and other nutritionless garbage that would give nine point five out of ten doctors a cardiac arrest.

Speaking of heart failure, you find yourself in front of the refrigerated drink aisle, using all of your brain wrinkles to make your hardest decision yet.

Which one of the canned heart attack flavors are you gonna buy today?

You hum, spending a good three minutes (give or take) thinking, and when you finally go ahead, reaching with your fingertips to grab the energy drink—

“Hey,” a low and grating voice speaks right behind you.

The sound makes you fucking jump.

You turn around with a scowl and then—straight out of a comedy skit, you feel like you’re staring at your male doppelgänger.

An extremely sketch-looking guy, wearing black sweats that match your own, the hood of his equally dark colored hoodie up and covering a messy mop of white hair.

And then you notice his… his intense crimson colored eyes, drilling a hole through the middle of your fucking skull.

If only looks could kill.

“Did you need something?” You fail to mask the venom in your voice, aimed at him for no good reason.

A skin care routine, you think.

Not like you bothered with one either, but at least your face isn’t disintegrating into disgusting flakes yet, unlike his punk ass.

Motherfucker couldn’t have waited two fucking minutes for you to pick something?

Where the fuck do you have to be at like 4:50 in the morning?!— you scoff, but the words remain yet unspoken.

The hooded figure raises his hand to scratch at his pale neck, seemingly annoyed at your shitty attitude towards him.

He just has to meet the worst type of bitch at this ungodly hour, on a Saturday no less—and he isn’t having it.

Red eyes stare you down for a moment, watching your face scrunch up at his sight.

“You’ve been standing in front of the drinks for like ten fucking minutes, ugly ass bitch.” He finally claps back, and with that, your eyes narrow. “Pick something or get the hell outta my way.”

“I was just about to, asshole,” you reply, voice betraying you and ultimately cracking while you seethe. “Grab your stupid ass drink so you can finally go home to the boys and cry about not getting any.”

You finish your sentence and stand aside for him, motioning to the drinks all the while his eyes widen in what you presumed to be shock—but before he has the chance to respond, you hurry the fuck up and leave.

The poor employee at the counter who saw the scene playing out (store ain’t that big, now), seems to want nothing to do with any of this. Graveyard shifts must be really fucking fun when you’re graced with not one, but two annoying idiots.

You drop all of your items on the counter and while the cashier is scanning them, you pat all four of your pockets, looking for your wallet to pay.

Until it dawns on you.

No fucking way—

Ain’t no fucking way your stupid, braindead ass forgot to bring money.

This isn’t fucking happening to you right now.

Especially since the embodiment of patience is standing just a few inches behind you, shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other and waiting with bated breath for you to finally pay and get lost.

“Uhh. Do—Do you guys keep tabs open?” you ask, recoiling at the sound of your own voice, scratching at the back of your head sheepishly and almost whispering the second half so the guy behind you wouldn’t be able to hear it. “I kind of… forgot my wallet at home.”

The cringe that is already coursing through your veins, deepens infinitely when you see the employee stare at your face, as if you grew a second head.

“No.”

Your humiliating predicament makes the guy behind you break into the creepiest snicker. You shoot him a glare and dare him to say something, but he’s too busy laughing at you.

God, if only the ground would swallow you whole, right fucking now.

With the worst shades of shame coloring your face, you turn around to leave, swearing to never set foot in this fucking establishment ever again. Nevermind that it’s the only store close to your house.

Before you have the chance to make good on your promise, the white haired guy reaches out—if a bit hesitant—and grabs your arm.

What’s the chance a nuke would crash into this fucking store and wipe out your entire existence, together with whoever is here to fucking witness this? Or maybe aliens could finally make contact with planet Earth and take you the fuck away. Getting your ass probed sounds infinitely more appealing than this incredible embarrassment you feel in front of the two assholes.

“Hold.”

Your pathetic gaze lifts from the ground and when you meet his eyes he looks—amused?

“What. Let go of me, man.” You panic, trying to free yourself from his grip, but his fingers are firm. Is that blood under his fingernails?

“I’ll pay,” he offers, a disturbing smirk playing on his dry lips.

This fucking guy.

“N-No, I’m good. Thanks.” Your voice is shaking more than you want it to and you feel tears finally prick at your eyes.

Why do you live your life this way? Why are you so fucking pathetic—especially in front of assholes like him?

Why are you still so weak?

After everything you’ve been through?

You try once more to shake him off of you, but he’s deceptively strong for his build, and doesn’t relent now that he’s got you where he wants you to be.

“It’s okay, really. This just made my night so I’m gonna pay for ya,” he says, the almost-even tone in his voice not matching the way his creepy smile seems to be getting wider.

He swiftly pulls out some scrunched-up bills from the pocket of his sweats, slipping them to the employee who could not give less of a fuck about whoever pays first, grabbing your already-bagged purchase and basically shoving it to you as he gives his best ‘Come again soon!’ bullshit line that actually translates to ‘Please fucking leave the store already’.

“How about that, huh? Now you owe me one, little bitch,” he whispers into your ear, voice low and full of grit sending chills down your spine and rendering you absolutely speechless.

Without sparing you so much as a second glance, he finally pays for his own shit and leaves the store in a smug stride.

You could basically read the “EZ” he wrote in slash all chat while destroying your fucking nexus.

What a horrible fucking night, you think to yourself, hurrying to go home as well.

Your only comforting thought being that you wouldn’t have to see his stupid fucking pasty face ever again.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #emotional hurt/comfort #shigaraki tomura #unhealthy relationships #dead dove do not eat #trigger warnings #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #college au #reader is female

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 1 year

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Cooking Up Love, Chapter 2

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, might not)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, he is a bit of a dick though, more tags to come as the story develops

Word Count: ~1800 (literally double last chapter, lol)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who liked and commented on the first chapter! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please don't hesitate to ask!

And thanks so much to @theradioactivespidergwen for the adorable divider!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705

You checked your smartwatch for the time as you rushed down the sidewalk towards Daredevil. Your GPS had told you that it'd be faster to walk there from the Bulletin than take a cab given the time of day, but you were starting to wonder if maybe you should've taken your chances.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted the restaurant up ahead then slowed a bit so you could catch your breath before reaching the entrance. Okay. It's fine, I'm on time, I got this.

You looked up at the restaurant. Daredevil was displayed in dark red lettering above the entranceway, with different patterns of dots underneath each letter. Huh. Interesting choice.

You reached for the door handle and pulled, only to find it locked. Shit.

You looked at the sign next to the door.

Hours of Operation:

Sunday: 11 AM - 2 PM

Monday: Closed

Tuesday - Thursday 5 PM - 10 PM

Friday - Saturday: 5 PM - 12 AM

You reached into your purse to call the restaurant… only to realize that you had left your cell phone sitting on your dresser at home.

You sighed. Great.

"Can I help you?"

You turned as a pretty blonde-haired woman walked up and unlocked the door. "Oh, um, yeah, I hope so."

You dug a business card out of your wallet and handed it to her. "I'm with the New York Bulletin . I'm supposed to be interviewing Chef Murdock in a minute, but I left my phone at home so I'm unable to let him know I'm here."

The woman's eyebrows raised as she looked at your business card. "You're interviewing Matt?"

"Um, yes?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously. "Just a second, I'll be right back."

You waited as the woman went inside and locked the door behind her.

A few minutes later she returned and unlocked the door, this time with a friendly smile on her face.

She held the door open for you. "Come on in."

"Thanks." You stepped inside.

"I'm Karen," the woman said. "I run front-of-house."

"Nice to meet you," you replied.

Karen led you to a table near the right corner of the front entrance. "Matt'll be right out. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?"

You shook your head. "Oh, no thank you, I'm fine."

"Okay, if you change your mind, let me know."

"I will, thank you."

You took your notepad and pen out of your purse, silently cursing yourself again for leaving your phone -- which was your only audio recording device -- on your dresser.

Since you couldn't even continue your brief research on Chef Murdock while you waited, you looked around instead.

The walls were all painted a soft white with the exception of the back wall, which was exposed brick with a built-in fireplace running along the middle of it. Side tables holding bottles of wine were the only choice of decor, giving the space a simplistic look.

You kind of liked it.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty… then thirty. What is the holdup, you thought to yourself. Surely he can't be that busy since they're not open for service yet .

You were just about to get up to go ask Karen if Chef Murdock had forgotten you were there when the kitchen door opened and Chef Murdock himself came strolling out.

His photo really hadn't done him justice -- his biceps strained against the sleeves of his chef's jacket and his jawline looked like it could cut glass.

Your eyes trailed up to his, which were hidden by the same red-tinted sunglasses he had been wearing in his photo.

You swallowed and stood as he approached, sticking your hand out for him to shake as you introduced yourself. "Mr. Murdock, thank you for meeting with me. I was told that you don't do interviews."

He ignored your hand and sat. "I don't usually, but it seems like this one was… unavoidable. And it's Chef Murdock. I didn't spend three and a half years in culinary school to be called Mr. "

You hesitated before sitting and looking down at your sparse notes. "Okay, well then. Um, Chef Murdock, I'd like to start with a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Mmm."

You took a deep breath. "Okay, so you're a Michelin star chef, correct?"

"Three."

You looked up at him again. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a three Michelin star chef."

"Oh. Um, excuse me." Asshole . "As a three Michelin star chef, what made you want to open a restaurant here in Hell's Kitchen? Why not somewhere like Manhattan?"

"I was born and raised here in the Kitchen."

You smiled up at him. "Oh, so do your parents still live here? They must be very proud."

Chef Murdock raised an eyebrow. "Well they probably would be, except my mother abandoned me as an infant and my father was murdered shortly after the accident that blinded me as a child, which you would know if you had bothered to do a modicum of research."

Your eyes widened, your smile quickly falling from your face. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." That at least explained the glasses and the dots on the signage out front. It's Braille. "I had no idea, I --"

"-- didn't bother to come prepared, yes, that much is clear." Chef Murdock crossed his arms. "If this is the sort of unprofessionalism that everyone who works at the Bulletin shows, then I'm not sure I should be sitting down with one of their reporters. We're done here."

You opened your mouth to protest as Chef Murdock stood and stalked off, shocked that he had suddenly stopped the interview before it even had really started.

You stood and put your notepad and pen in your purse, fighting back tears. What the hell just happened?

This was the first time you had ever failed at an interview -- you were known for both your professionalism and your ability to get to know your subjects on a deeper, more personal level in order to get them to open up to you.

You headed back to the lobby of the restaurant, willing yourself to not cry while you were still in the building.

Karen smiled over at you. "All done?"

"Um, yeah," you mumbled. "Could you let me out, please?"

"Sure thing." Karen unlocked the door for you, looking at you curiously. "Hey, are you okay?"

You shook your head. "Fine, fine, just gotta go."

You pushed past her and exited the restaurant, waiting until you had made it into the alley next to it before you burst into tears.

Matt sighed as he took his glasses off and tossed them onto his desk. At least that's over . He hadn't gotten to where he was by half-assing anything and he certainly wasn't going to let anyone ruin what he had worked so hard to rebuild, especially some so-called 'journalist' who couldn't even bother to do some simple research before sitting down for an interview.

"What the hell did you do, Matt? Karen just told me that that journalist from the Bulletin just ran out of here practically in tears."

Matt looked up and crossed his arms in front of his chest as Foggy's familiar footsteps stopped in front of his office. "She came completely unprepared, Foggy. I wasn't going to waste my time sitting down with someone who couldn't even bother doing any sort of research before coming."

"That's because she hadn't had time to do any! The interview needed to happen right away because of deadlines and stuff for the paper so it got sprung on her at the last minute, just like I sprang it on you at the last minute."

He paused as Karen's footsteps approached. "Kare, do you still have Ms. Taylor's business card? Maybe we can try to salvage this."

Taylor? "Wait a minute, who?" Matt replied confusedly.

"Kelsie Taylor? The food writer from the Bulletin ?" Foggy sighed exasperatedly. Jesus, Matt, did you even try to remember her name?"

Matt shook his head, beginning to feel bad for being so harsh towards you. "That's not who she said she was."

"Matt's right, it definitely wasn't her," Karen added. "At least, that wasn't the name on the card she gave me."

"Who was she then?"

Matt said your name. "She did say she was with the Bulletin though."

"Her card's on the front podium," Karen said. "I'll go get it."

Foggy turned back to Matt as Karen left. "You never were going to do the interview, were you?"

Matt winced. The last time he had agreed to any kind of journalistic endeavor had ended in disaster and almost complete ruination of his culinary reputation, and quite honestly he was terrified of it happening again. "I was , but --"

Foggy groaned. "Don't even give me that bullshit, Matt. Do you know how hard I had to work to even get you that interview? They were going to give the front page to Fisk , of all people!"

Wilson Fisk, who owned Kingpin's, had been suspected of being behind several popular restaurants' sudden closures (more than one being due to 'mysterious' kitchen fires), as well as having bought most, if not all, of the positive hype and accolades he and his restaurant had received.

Matt scowled. He would be damned if he was going to let that bastard steal the spotlight out from underneath him. "Fisk? Really? He's not even a real chef! His sous comes up with most of his recipes, he just modifies it a bit and slaps his name on it."

"All the more reason for you to get that front page interview."

Matt heard Karen's footsteps approach again. "Got her card?"

"Yeah, it's right here," Karen replied.

Matt could smell the subtle scent of your perfume as Karen passed Foggy your business card -- something lightly floral with a hint of vanilla.

Foggy read your name off of your business card. "This says she's the Features writer."

Matt's brow furrowed. "Features? You said the food writer was doing the interview."

"I assumed she was but I guess since it was a front-page article they wanted someone else to do it." Foggy pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped at his screen. "Hang on, I'm gonna pull up the Bulletin staff."

Matt waited as Foggy pulled up the list of staff then tapped on your name. "Is this her?" he asked Karen, presumably showing her your picture.

"Yeah, that's who it was," Karen replied.

Matt nodded as his watch beeped with the time. "We have to get ready to open, but I'm going to go over to the Bulletin 's office in the morning to see if I can talk to her and straighten everything out."

He just hoped you accepted his apology.

#lotmf writes #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x you #chef!matt murdock #Cooking Up Love Masterlist

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entitycradle · 17 days

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Future Anime Girl Gestalt

As a breakthrough in silicon nanostructure materials makes photonics and near-eye displays cheap, smart glasses become the new ubiquitous computers, replacing smartphones. The always-on display provides unique opportunities for advertisers, as does new machine learning-assisted ad targeting. In the new omnipresent augmented reality, ads become personalized, three-dimensional, interactive displays, emerging from blank rectangles in subway stations. You see your facebook friends conversing animatedly, drinking budweiser.

As smart glasses become increasingly necessary for modern life, brands are able to invade further into perceived reality. Cars shine luxuriously. The name and price of your coworker's smartwatch floats above it. Of course many modern advertisements no longer directly sell a product or service, but rather create and maintain brand identities. Large corporations advertise on everyday objects--the plate at your favorite restaurant reveals the name of a software company as you finish your food. Your brother's anger turns him super saiyan, reminding you of the new episodes. A poor neighborhood turns into an alien-inspired techno-organic nightmare.

Many companies use characters to perpetuate their brand. These characters can be personalized--the insurance company mascot that shows up on your car dashboard during a harrowing rush hour is your favorite color, features large, expressive eyes, and is covered in shaggy fur.

Of course, machine learning algorithms can be unpredictable. And ad agencies could not anticipate the omnivalent memetic power of...

...anime girls.

The algorithm customizes your pepsi soda into a fizzy anime slime girl. They customize the call to your healthcare provider to raise the pitch of the representative's voice and translate the audio to Japanese (your glasses display English subtitles). The missiles you see striking a city in Iran are ridden by pale, northrop grumman-labeled anime maids.

As more human agency is ceded to enormous, power-chugging processing centers, the connections between everyday occurrences and brand presence become more abstract. Every character on a show you're not paying attention to, every old shoe you own, every person you interact with, every grain of sand on the beach, every floater in your eye, is an anime girl.

As humans do, they adapt. Generation Glass becomes accustomed to experiencing two entirely foreign sets of sense-data: one, their local, mundane world, of humming processors and concrete and scraggly trees. The other, the networked world, where your entire visual field is painted in overlapping anime girls of various sizes and your auditory vestibular nerve is drowned in high-pitched giggling. Each girl represents some object--pomegranate, sunset, friends, love, death.

As global civilization gently deflates under the pressure of climate change post-2100, so does the capacity to manufacture complex electronics. Within the space of a generation, billions of people are reduced to creating facile, vapid illustrations of the moving, living anime girls they once knew as bigotry and tarmac. Pictures of anime girls are used to label street signs, mathematical concepts, genders, religious texts. Ironically, anime girls become more incorporated into the real world than they ever were in the Glass period, because they adorn real surfaces. A post-traumatic behavior develops, in which a person destroys objects bearing anime girl images in an attempt to, according to one individual, "let them out," or otherwise restore networked consensus reality.

Thousands of years pass. Peregrine sophists of the Fifth Yyrzoc clan uncover an underground concrete structure. In it are glyphs of a single, big-eyed, pale, skinny, large-breasted woman with bright blue hair, surrounded by female figures in blood-red uniforms who are collapsed on the ground. The sophists are able to decode this message and avoid what we would recognize as a nuclear waste storage facility. They theorize that the figures are ancient feminine gods of radiation and death. Several etchings and illustrations are published by a notable scriptorium. Years later they are largely forgotten.

#writing #original fiction #sff #scifi #anime #weird fiction #worldbuilding

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accessorizehub · 1 year

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Garmin venu SQ Music

Check out

#apple #smartwearables #smart watch #garmin #smartwatch #women #women fashion #women fitness #gorgeous women #house wife #business woman

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voraciousvore · 10 months

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The Half-Blood Giant (11/51)

Chapter 11: Eren

Eren was glad to have a day off. She urgently needed it. Work was stressful, despite the improvements made when she returned. She was finally picking up the pieces of her broken life and putting them back together, but progress was slow.

She accepted her job back at the dental clinic, as a dental hygienist. She had to acclimate first, practicing climbing into the mouth of her lovely fiancé Joey, before she gained the courage to try on anybody else. Even so, her first day back she had a panic attack and had to go home early. Being in the same environment where she had been kidnapped triggered a negative response.

Despite the setback, Eren soldiered on. She was a strong woman, and she was determined. She didn’t want to stay holed up in her apartment, afraid of the world, for the rest of her pitiful existence. Dr. Larson, her boss, was understanding, fortunately. He felt guilty for pushing her in the past, especially since he blamed himself for putting her in danger. He was careful to check on her frequently, let her work at her own pace, and only matched her with trusted clients whom she had worked on before. He allowed her to take breaks as needed and didn’t overbook her. She was never left alone in the clinic, where she would be vulnerable.

Eren wasn’t back to full time yet. She worked half-days, so she wouldn’t get too overwhelmed. She grew stronger by the day as she settled into a routine. Slowly, she was healing from her traumas. Whenever she was out of the house, she was always careful to wear her smartwatch, so she wouldn’t be caught helpless in a bad situation. Today, though, she was at home, safely locked up in her apartment. She felt secure in her own domicile, even though her protector Joey was at work.

Their shared apartment was small for a giant like Joey, but capacious for a tiny human like Eren. She felt as if she was relaxing in the lap of luxury in a big mansion, sitting on the gigantic couch and leaning into a pillow that towered above her. Being so much smaller than everything around her could be inconvenient, but it had its perks too. She sank into the cushion with satisfaction while she watched a movie on her laptop, enjoying the serenity of a day off.

The peace was interrupted when the air crackled loudly with sparks. Eren looked up from her laptop screen in disbelief as blue electricity tore the fabric of reality, not comprehending what she was witnessing. She was even more startled when a giant whom she had never seen before fell through the gaping hole into her living room and smacked his head on the side of the coffee table, collapsing on the carpet with a tremendous thump. Eren squeaked and jumped to her feet with surprise.

The giant man didn’t move. He lay motionless on the floor, blood dripping from his forehead. Eren hesitated, not sure what to do. She examined the strange man from her perch on the couch. He was dressed oddly, in a vest, a shirt with billowing sleeves, embroidered tan pants, and chunky boots. Eren fancied he would blend right in at a Renaissance fair. Her curiosity outweighed her fear, so she clambered down the rope ladder on the side of the couch to reach the floor. She crept across the carpet to the man’s colossal face. His head injury didn’t look too bad, but Eren couldn’t be certain. He was passed out, after all.

Eren reached down to her wrist to call for help, when she realized she wasn’t wearing her watch. She wasn’t in the habit of wearing it when she was in the safety of her own home. Now that she was alone with a stranger, however, she felt uneasy. She hadn’t anticipated a random giant materializing out of nowhere into her living room.

The giant groaned and shifted, his eyes flickering open. Eren froze up when she saw his irises, so big and close in front of her. They were a resplendent green, like the eyes of a noble beast, glinting with an intense predatory hunger. They were reminiscent of the same green eyes that haunted her nightmares, belonging to that terrifying monster named Trent, the eyes that followed her everywhere in the deepest, darkest recesses of her worst fears. Eren went white as a sheet as those gigantic orbs that eclipsed her vision focused in on her, the black pupils dilating. The giant’s nose twitched as he scented her, and his lips separated.

Eren fled in terror. The giant might be friendly, for all she knew, but the sight awakened horrendous memories within her, memories of a drooling maw full of square white teeth, a red tongue, swimming in grumbling guts, torture and pain. Eren couldn’t handle it. She panicked.

Chester, still groggy, saw the movement of tiny prey and reacted instinctively. His arm shot out like a projectile from a catapult, and he easily snatched up the tiny human in front of him. She squealed in fright and battled his fingers, but he was too strong. Chester groaned, rubbing the bloody gash on his forehead as he sat up.

��What is this place? Where am I? Who are you?” he asked the woman in his hand. Eren was too frightened to answer. She tried to bite his finger, but was unable to break through his thick skin with her teeth. Chester regarded her with interest, turning her over in his hand as if she were nothing more than a little doll.

His stomach growled, and Eren stiffened at the noise, staring up at him with wide eyes. Chester placed his free hand on his belly, noting how empty it felt. At Jackie’s behest, he had skipped breakfast, against his better judgement. He looked over at the small human ensnared in his fist, brought her closer to his face, and breathed in through his nose, inhaling her scent. If she tasted as good as she smelled, she would be quite a delectable treat. He licked his lips as his mouth began to water.

He glanced around him. He appeared to be in someone’s living room, scaled for a giant. Nobody was nearby; he confirmed with his nose. Another giant male must live here, but he wasn’t present. If he ate this human, here and now, nobody would know. Chester opened his mouth with longing, his tongue dancing in its dripping chamber, the little human inches away. He was sorely tempted.

Eren whimpered and pulled away from his open maw as his breath ruffled her hair. Chester closed his mouth and swallowed a flood of saliva. He had to control himself. “Um... do you have any food here?” he asked the little woman in his hand, urgency in his tone. She nodded frantically.

“Th-th-there's leftover p-p-pizza in the fridge,” she stuttered, shaking. She could barely utter any words at all. Chester surged over to the kitchen, making Eren lose her balance in his fist, and opened the fridge door. As promised, there was a box with half a pepperoni pizza inside. Chester took the whole box and returned to the living room. He sat down on the couch and set the pizza box on the coffee table, as if he were a guest and not an intruder, oblivious to social mores. He placed Eren on the coffee table and helped himself to the pizza, shoveling a whole slice into his mouth.

Eren watched with trepidation. Luckily, her watch was on the coffee table nearby, and she gradually edged toward it, hoping the giant wouldn’t notice. Even though he was bolting down pizza slices, she noticed he kept his eye on her the whole time, making sure she wouldn’t run away. Eren knew better than to think she could outrun a giant, especially since she would have to climb down the height of the table to get away. She sat down and gripped the watch in her hands, sending Joey an emergency text. Chester had no idea what she was doing, since smartwatches didn’t exist in his realm. Joey responded immediately, and Eren quietly sighed in relief. She just had to stall until he got here to rescue her.

Chester, as usual, was struggling to rein in his temptation. Where was Jackie when he needed her? He wasn’t sure, but he knew filling his belly was priority. He hardly chewed the pizza at all, swallowing it in great big bites. Eren was disturbed as she watched the spectacle of gluttony before her. Joey was an impressive eater, but he wasn’t as bad as this giant. She had no doubt that this huge man wanted to eat her, and had almost forced her into his mouth just like he was clogging his mouth full of pizza now. She was tense.

Chester gulped down another slice and focused in on the miniature lady on the coffee table. She was huddled up and shaking. He smacked his lips. The pizza was serviceable, but it failed to satisfy in the same way as a human. Her scent suggested a meaty flavor, like steak. He imagined her sliding down his throat and flailing in his belly. His stomach grumbled again.

“Hey, uh… if you’re willing, feel free to hop onto that pizza slice right there,” Chester remarked with a roguish wink and a toothy smile. Without awareness of his actions, he was leaning closer over Eren. He licked pizza sauce off his lip. Maybe she’d be willing to at least let him taste her. If she lived with another giant, as was obviously the case, he was sure she’d understand.

“W-what?” Eren responded with confusion. What the giant was suggesting was so preposterous, Eren thought she had misunderstood.

“I won’t swallow you or anything,” Chester assured her. “Just let me hold you in my mouth and taste you. I’ll eat the pizza around you, but I won’t chew you up or ingest you. Just for flavor.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Eren shouted. Chester’s face twitched and Eren covered her mouth with her hand. She turned to run, but the swift movement activated Chester’s hunting instinct and he reflexively reached out and pinched the back of her shirt between his fingers.

“LET GO OF ME!!” Eren screamed at the top of her lungs. Chester, mortified by what he had just done, released her immediately, bringing his hand back into his lap.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he apologized and shoved another pizza slice in his face. He slumped his shoulders and averted his gaze completely from her, his face red as a cherry.

Eren stared at him, baffled by his behavior. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she asked with exasperation. This giant was different than any other giant she had met. Other man-eating giants had no shame and didn’t give her a choice. If she had been dealing with Trent, he would have swallowed her a long time ago. This giant, on the other hand, seemed almost ashamed of himself, yet he appeared to have no concept of personal space or boundaries. She didn’t understand his behavior.

“I’m sorry,” Chester repeated through a substantial mouthful of pizza, burying his face in his hands. “I-I have strong cravings to eat humans. It’s so humiliating, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m trying so hard to keep it under control.”

Eren’s expression softened a bit at his confession. She could plainly see he was telling the truth. “It’s fine,” she said quietly. “Just don’t you dare eat me!” She backed up a step, raising her arms defensively. She hoped Joey would be here soon. She didn’t think the giant was malicious, per say, but he seemed to have poor self-control. She didn’t trust him at all.

Chester shook his head, still hiding his face. “I won’t,” he promised. He didn’t sound too confident though. He peeked through his fingers at Eren. “Doesn’t your giant friend whom you live with ever want to eat you?”

Eren gaped up at him, nonplussed by the question. Joey had never eaten her on purpose, or signaled to her any desire to do so. Just then, Joey’s voice resounded through the door. “Hang on, Eren!” he yelled. “I’m coming!” He jammed the key in the lock and fumbled to open the door.

“I’m in here, Joey!” Eren called back, projecting her squeaky voice as loud as she could. “Don’t worry, I’m okay!”

“Who’s that?” Chester asked, looking up.

“Oh, he’s my fiancé,” Eren explained. “He’s a giant. And a cop. He’s very protective of me.”

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

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