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end-otw-racism · 1 year

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End OTW Racism: A Call To Action

A fan protest against the lack of action from the OTW on addressing issues of harassment and racism on AO3 and within the organization

This is a Call To Action for Fans of Color and Allies

AO3 has acknowledged that they have a harassment & racism problem that its parent organization, the Organization for Transformative Works (OTW), needs to address. Currently, people can use AO3 to harass others through fanworks, comments, and tags. Just a few examples include: racist Untamed “spitefic” that used anti-Indigenous slurs and was written specifically to lash out at fans of color; a Transformer fic that used its Black-coded character to reenact George Floyd’s murder in July 2020; someone naming a fandom scholar who criticized their Nazi omegaverse fic in the tags of the fic specifically to incite harassment to the scholar; writers using racial slurs against commenters who pointed out racism in their hockey fic; and so much more.

In June 2020, after the murder of George Floyd, the OTW committed to addressing these issues. It has been nearly three years and they have not yet implemented any of the changes they promised, other than a blocking/muting tool that was already in development before 2020. We need to hold the OTW accountable to their own promises. (See the section further down on “Why Are We Doing This” for even more detail.)

As fans, together, we are powerful. We are organizing to protest the lack of action on promises made by the Organization for Transformative works to deal with issues of racism and harassment on their platform, Archive of Our Own.

We call on fans to do any or all of the following actions any time between May 17 to 31, 2023 to send a message to AO3 and OTW that we will hold them to their promises.

On AO3

Change the title of ten (or more!) of your most recent or most popular fanworks to include ‘End Racism in the OTW’ in the beginning, and provide a link to this post in your summary or first/top creator’s note

Post a new fanwork any time between May 17th to 31st with “End Racism in the OTW” either as the title or at the beginning of the title. The fanwork does not have to be long - it can be a 100-word fic, a quick sketch, a podfic of a ficlet, a 20-second vid/edit, a short piece of meta, etc. In the summary or first/top creator’s note, provide a link to this post

If updating any WIPs with a new chapter, add ‘End Racism in the OTW’ to the title and provide a link back to this post in your summary or first/top author’s note

Update your AO3 icon using the profile pic graphic in our Social Media Toolkit

Plan to maintain these changes until May 31, 2023, or longer if you wish

Send a message to the OTW asking for an update on their 2020 commitments!

For Readers: leave encouraging comments on fanworks with the "End Racism in the OTW" title to show your support of this initiative.

On tumblr

Reblog this Call to Action with the tag #End OTW Racism

Update your profile pics and banners using the graphics in our Social Media Toolkit

Follow this account for updates and signal boost our posts

On Twitter

Follow @/EndOTWRacism (remove the backslash) and signal boost our pinned tweet

Update your profile pics and banners using our graphics, and change your display name to include #EndOTWRacism

Use sample tweets and graphics from our Social Media Toolkit to tweet about your fanworks, and use the hashtag #EndOTWRacism

Help us make this a long-term campaign - sign up to help with other anti-racism projects and future actions!

What Do We Want?

Since their June 2020 statement, OTW has been working on updating their Terms of Service (TOS) to address racist and bigoted harassment, but with little transparency and only the vaguest of updates. It has been three years since their commitment to this update - we want to see the results of their work implemented in the next 6-12 months. Their TOS updates and complementary policies should include:

Harassment policies that can be regularly updated to address both on-site harassment and off-site coordinated harassment of AO3 users, with updated protocols for the Policy & Abuse Team to ensure consistent and informed resolutions of abuse claims

A content policy on abusive (extremely racist and extremely bigoted) content; by abusive, we are talking about fanworks that are intentionally used to spread hate and harassment, not those that accidentally invoke racist or other bigoted stereotypes

These points are not particularly new and are not our own innovation; please refer to Stitch's article written over two years ago, asking for several of these very things.

OTW has also already committed to various process-based actions for longer-term works towards centering antiracism, including hiring a Diversity Consultant. The last update that OTW published said that the consultant would be hired within the next five years (after already having had three years to work on it since their original commitment). That is not soon enough. We want to see the following process-based actions implemented:

Hiring a Diversity Consultant within the next 3-6 months

Committing to a policy of transparency on this topic, with quarterly updates on the progress of these projects including challenges and their plan for overcoming those challenges. These quarterly updates should be published on OTW News page and newsletters, not solely discussed in Board meetings

Why Are We Doing This?

16 years ago, Astolat famously published her manifesto calling for a fandom Archive of One’s Own. In that time, AO3 has grown to be a central pillar of fandom, likely far outstripping its founders’ original vision. It is more than just an archive now; it is a central hub of the modern fannish experience. AO3 and the OTW must continue to grow and evolve with fandom over time to remain a healthy and functioning pillar of fandom. To that end, there are several areas in which the organization, as it admits itself, is lacking.

In June 2020, in the wake of the George Floyd protests and the uprising of the Black Lives Matter Movement, The OTW published a “This Week in Fandom” referencing the works of Dr. Rukmini Pande and Stitch, among others in which they discussed ‘making change for a better society’ through ‘conversations about race and racism’. In response, Dr. Pande and Stitch submitted a letter to the OTW calling for a more formal public statement than an offhand reference in a News Roundup that only served to call for thoughts and discussion without any indication the organization intended to do anything, policy wise, to address the issues being raised.

Eventually, the organization did remove the references to the works of Dr. Pande and Stitch and then made an official statement on the issue of racism within the organization and AO3. In it, they identified several things they would be prioritizing to combat harassment and benefit users. Some of those have been implemented (notably those that were already under development). However as of this writing, little else has been done especially in regards to:

Improving admin tools for the Policy & Abuse team

Reassessing the current mandatory archive warnings with the possibility of implementing others

And, most importantly, reviewing the Terms of Service (TOS) to allow the Policy & Abuse team to address harassment that is currently not covered by the existing TOS

By their own admission, the current tools and policies of the OTW are not sufficient to deal with issues of harassment and racism.

Several people who were involved in the founding of the OTW, including previous OTW Board members and staff on the original OTW Content Policy Committee, acknowledge that the founding of the OTW in 2008 and early board iterations failed us as a fandom by not doing enough, and by not even considering the way racism is perpetuated in fannish spaces, despite a long history of racism in fandom.

It has been nearly three years since the original commitment by the organization with little visible, measurable progress on these three crucial issues and a complete lack of transparency on where they are in regards to even beginning to deal with these issues. In fact, in Q&As, it was heavily implied by a member of the board that those calling for OTW to deal with issues of racism (which OTW had already acknowledged as a problem!) were not really fans but outside agitators.

This has cast significant doubt on the organization's sincerity and commitment to their stated goals, and on their position as leaders of a central fan tent-pole. Fans of color are not outsiders. They are right here, members of our community, and they are being harassed and targeted and driven out while space and platforms are being given to racists.

We, as fans of color and our allies, find the current state of fandom and current actions (and lack thereof) unacceptable. Fandom is our space, all of ours. We, as a fandom, have a right to a racism-free space and have a duty to our fellow fans to create that space. Unlike so much of the world, this is a space we can control and make better. It is a space we must make better. To read even more about this movement, visit our FAQs.

#fandom #ao3 #otw #EndOTWRacism #End OTW Racism #racism in fandom #organization for transformative works #archive of our own #antiracism #otw board

9K notes · View notes

kentocidal · 9 months

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lucky winner

users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima

internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag

internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.

new notifications: @kaedescara

you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’

you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”

“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin.

“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.

you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”

you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”

your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”

you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.

you swiped up on the story.

you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.

@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]

you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.

sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends.

you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.

you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.

the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively.

you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.

your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.

you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”

“uh-”

“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.

“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.

“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.”

you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”

you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”

“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you.

you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.

“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.

“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”

“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”

“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.

he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.

you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”

“uh, yes. all of the forms.”

“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”

you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.

you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable.

you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.

kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.

“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”

you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”

“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”

“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”

“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”

“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.

“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.

“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.

your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.

bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”

you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.

“don’t tease, kats.”

“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.

kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.

“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”

you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.

you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.

kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”

“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”

“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.

“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”

“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”

“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”

kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”

“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.

“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”

you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”

“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.

you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”

“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.

you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”

you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.

bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.

“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.

“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”

you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”

“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.

you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-

“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.

your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”

“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.

“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”

“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.

you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”

you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.

you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”

you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.

“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.

“they look… really nice.”

“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.

you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”

“y-yeah.”

“you need a break?”

“i think so.”

bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”

“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.

kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”

“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“

“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”

“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”

“true.” kiri was practically purring.

they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.

you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”

“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.

bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”

“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.

you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.

you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.

kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”

he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”

“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”

“someone’s got an oral fixation.”

“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”

you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.

you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“

“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.

you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.

you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.

you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.

“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.

you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”

“yeah? y’think so?”

“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.

kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”

“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.

you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.

“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”

“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”

“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.

your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”

“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.

you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.

kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.

kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.

he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.

you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.

“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”

your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.

kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”

“fuck yes i do.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugou.txt #kirishima.txt #ask to tag.txt

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

Text

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself.

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac.

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services.

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself.

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface.

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation.

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true)

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier.

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work.

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful.

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me?

Yes, he can hear you.

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep.

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail.

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train.

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think.

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room.

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway.

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively.

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in.

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him?

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse.

— Where do you want me to start, sir?

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry.

— The living room. If it’s not too much.

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker.

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless.

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch?

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it.

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes.

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit.

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left.

— Alright. Anything else?

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway.

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself.

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you.

And he only knew you for an hour tops.

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours?

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits.

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service.

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember.

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body.

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died.

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad.

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be.

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face.

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself.

— What is it, liebling?

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss.

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him.

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow.

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already.

He might not even let you go after.

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment.

— Alright. I will do it right away then.

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless.

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside.

— I will divide everything into categories, alright?

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces.

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is.

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely.

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate.

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours.

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #konig x reader #yandere konig #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig #konig x you #konig cod

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kyunzin · 3 months

Text

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

cw; picking up the phone while they’re fucking you (f!reader)

tags; slight voyerism/missionary position/ teasing (gojo), teasing/ doggy style/ degradation (geto), vouyerism/ degradation/ praise/ chokehold/ back shots (toji),sex tape/ voyerism/degradation/ objectification / missionary (sukuna), [yuuji makes an appearance at the end] (f!reader)

a/n; I haven’t posted in a while, if you requested it is in the making I promise, by the way if the spelling/grammar is bad it’s cause i’m writing this at 1 am my brain ain’t function properly rn

𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

✰ would tease you, pick up the phone and tell the person that picked up that you’re busy while still fucking you.

“why don’t you answer it baby, it might be important?”

he smirks down at you as he watches you glare at him even though your moaning, letting out a weak “fuck you” at his childish antics.

“c’mon, all you have time do is see what they want it can be that hard”

his pace doesn’t let up and you watch in horror as he picks up the phone to answer with a devious smirk on his face. he knows you didn’t actually expect him to pick up the phone.

“this is gojo speaking, ah nanamin it’s you. sorry shes busy but I can help you”

your quick to slap your hand over you mouth and gojo feels the way you clench around him and he watches in amusement as you try to contain your noise though he’s sure the sound of his hips slapping against yours are making it through the speaker.

“yeah, I’ll be sure to pass on the message don’t worry”

once the call ends he throws the phone to the side and continues fucking you however the smirk never leaves his face. you’re sure to call nanami back and apologise for gojo’s behaviour.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

✰ he would tease yout at first baiting you but he wouldn’t actually pick up.

“what would they think if they heard the pathetic sounds you’re making baby, you wanna find out?”

he watches as you shake your head and whine at his suggestion from below him but he feels the way your cunt tightens around him at the idea.

“you sure baby, then why did your pussy squeeze so tight when I mentioned it, clearly you want them to hear how much of a cock hungry slut you are don’t you”

it’s the first time something like this has happened so you’re not sure if he’s actually going to pick up or not, you’re oulse raising in anticipation.

“you think I don’t feel the way your sucking me in even tighter, someone would think that you actually enjoy the idea of someone hearing you, is that what you want?”

“no sug, please” you don’t know if your pleas will work as the way his hands grip onto your waist tighter say otherwise as well as the way he starts to reach for the phone ahead your pulse increasing. you believe he’s going to follow through with the suggestion until he picks yo the phone to decline the call and you sigh in relief.

“don’t worry princess, I’m the only one that gets to hear your slutty moans”

𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

✰ would pick up straight away and make you speak to the person on the phone as he fucks you.

“tell them you’re busy, make it quick”

your not ready by the time he puts the phone up to your ear and you don’t even recognise the voice speaking to you not that you have half the brain right now as toji fucked the sense out of you but you have to comply with his wishes as you dont want to be punished even though you know hes only doing it to humiliate you.

“make sure you speak properly otherwise they won’t be able to understand you baby”

it’s hard for you to speak as he has you held up by your throat so your words come out choppy in between your moans and theres no doubt that the person on the phone can tell whats going on. “ye -fuck! hello s-sorry about that. shit, can I um -oh fuck, can I c-call you back later?”

“taking to long princess, hurry up”

“fuck! m’ trying, please! no not you -fuck sorry. m’ b-busy right now so I’m gonna call you back- fuck!” toji doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence sending one particularly harsh thrust just before the call ends throwing it back to it’s place.

“such a good girl doing as i asked, but now they know what a dirty slut you are, taking calls while you’re being fucked”

𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

✰ puts the phone next to your pussy so that the person can hear the obscene sounds then next to your mouth to hear your moans.

“keep making ‘em pretty noises for me”

you don’t even notice when he picks up the phone but you soon realise that he is holding your phone down to where his balls slap against your ass making the wettest sound and you know that he’s recording a video as he usual does when the two of you fuck, he says he saved it for when he can’t fuck you l.

“hear that it’s the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”

you don’t even have half a mind to question what he’s doing right now as even though he’s occupied with the phone he’s still fucking you brutally shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts eliciting loud and long moans from you.

“my pretty little whore can take my dick so well, she even makes the prettiest noises for me wanna hear?”

you’re not sure how long he records the sounds your pussy makes but the next thing you know is that the phone is placed next to your ear for it to hear the profanities leave your mouth one after the other a proud smirk on his face as you do “ryo please- oh fuck, feels s-so fuckin good”

“my cunt takes cock so well, pretty sure it’s all she’s good for. just to be used as my fleshlight”

you soon later come to learn that it was yuuji the video was for yuuji after hearing your moans he may or may have not fisted his cock all night in jealousy wishing it were him fucking you instead.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

@tyunixia @riowmie

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saltburnedme · 4 months

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My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: You’d only been visiting family at Saltburn for a few weeks, but this time you couldn’t shift the feeling of something or someone watching you.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), choking, stalking? Kind of?, two way mirrors, vague horror ish themes, dubious consent, generally fucked up smut overall

Writers note: Hi friends! This is my first Oliver fic, I’m planning on writing more so let me know if you have any requests. I’ve only seen the film once so I apologise if my writing of him isn’t quite right yet.. just read his parts with his accent and I think it works! Please share, comment, like and all of those good things 💕💕

Part 2

21 days, almost a full month, that’s how long it had taken you to get to grips with the enormity of Saltburn. Most of that time had been spent mistakenly walking into a linen closet which supplied one of the many bedrooms believing it was the entrance to your room. You’d even drawn yourself a map by this point and somehow, you still managed to get lost, the house was almost as much of a maze as the actual maze in the garden was. You had checked off your room, all of the shared spaces and most of the other bedrooms, inhabited or otherwise, all marked down perfectly on your little map. There was only one wing of the house which you were not allowed into, Elsbeth called it the ‘bachelor pad’ something you know Felix would have at the very least groaned at. He’d been sharing this space with his guest, another student named Oliver. He was quiet, a bit of a mystery overall but from that you assessed that he was a man who liked his privacy, making you chalk up their reluctance to have you in that space no more than a matter of comfort. A comfort you wish that you could say you felt also.

You visited Saltburn many times as a child, the family themselves were distant relatives of yours which is why you always summered there when your parents were away on business. You’d never felt uncomfortable there before, but this time something was different even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the heat getting to you, maybe it was the ever changing list of house guests that visited or the way that it seemed the eyes on the paintings of long dead aristocracy seemed to follow you around the room. Something had changed, if only you could put your finger on it.. or a toe.. maybe even an out stretched palm if you felt confident enough, anything to make this restlessness end. Every night that you laid in bed, you felt something, someone, watching you. You had checked, you’d opened every door, searched every shelf and wandered into every linen closet in the vicinity of your room and every time, nothing. Your well drawn map granting you no ease of mind, even with all of the labels you’d added to it over the last few weeks. The constant tossing and turning ceased only by one saving grace, you’d remembered to pack your vibrator.

Every night like clockwork your little buzzing friend would find the tingling mound between your legs, slipping in and out seamlessly like always, making you cum within a few minutes. That was until tonight, maybe you should have expected it. 21 days in a row of usage, the batteries were sure to go flat at some point, you just didn’t think it would be so soon. Placing it into the draw of the bedside table you go back to the constant pacing feeling in your mind as you attempted to sleep. The watching feeling was back, the hairs on your arms standing up, the feeling of the familiar prickling at the back of your neck as if something dangerous was approaching from the shadows. But sleep finally took you, once again.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the wood of the door early every morning tore you from your sleep, a much needed sleep. The curtains being torn open and the light hitting your face remind you of where you are almost immediately, at least this time with the maids in your room you knew who was watching you. ‘Breakfast is ready’ she says as she leaves the room as promptly as she arrived, off to wake another of the Saltburn family without a doubt. Crawling out of bed in your white night dress, you throw on a matching robe over the top, fumbling your slippers on, briefly checking your reflection in the full length mirror mounted to the wall across from your bed before wandering down the long halls to the breakfast table. Taking your usual seat you notice no one else has awoken yet, your tired eyes settling on the food in front of you, you almost fall asleep sitting up eating. The exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up with you. ‘You looked frustrated last night’ a low voice utters quietly a few seats across from you, the low muttering making you jump out of your skin with shock.

‘Excuse me?’ You question, a puzzled look on your face which could have been mistaken for anger, your words coming out harsher than you expected. You see the man across from you almost retreat into himself, he’d barely uttered a word to you in the last 21 days and now this? Your mind immediately flashing back to your frustration at your vibrator unceremoniously dying on you, surely that isn’t what he refers to tho.. right? ‘Oh Oliver, I’m sorry, I’m so tired that came out poorly. what do you mean?’ You question, making Oliver un tense slightly.

‘I saw you looking for something last night’ he begins. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He questions.

‘Oh, That. I was just trying to get a better lay of the land. Every time i visit I swear this place is rearranged, it’s like a new house every time.’ You reply.

‘Sure, that must have been it’ he replies, no follow up, nothing. Although it was more of a conversation than you’d managed with him this whole time, you expected maybe something else would have come from this. He could have offered to help you, anything. Although you hadn’t spoken that much you’d find it hard to argue that you hadn’t developed a little crush on him, his dark hair in contrast with his piercing blue eyes, surely that would make any girl swoon.

Just as you finally thought of something to say, the thought of offering him an invitation to explore the mansion with you to further expand your map, the rest of the family arrived, keen to discuss plans for the day. Your hopes of getting to know Oliver better shattered once again.

You continued your day like normal, a dip in the pool, a little bit of reading, another trip to a random room to expand the map and eventually dinner and straight to bed.

Once again you were kept up, tonight you indulged in wine a little bit more than usual, the knowledge of the lack of batteries to fuel your only release weighing heavy on your mind.

Crawling into bed you listen to the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the hallway, the sound of the old house almost swaying in the breeze as if that were possible. You try to ignore the familiar ache between your thighs as you long for sleep subtly grinding against the palm of your hand as you crave the release you know you can’t have. The feeling growing stronger and your movements becoming more unsubtle as you move the covers off of you, the fabric of your night dress pooling up around your hips as you grind, longing for that familiar feeling. ‘Ugh, fuck sake’ you groan, it’s of no use. You roll over frustratedly, your face buried in pillows as you let out a silent scream. That’s when you hear it, the floorboards creaking, the sound too loud to be from the hallway and it wasn’t just creaking this time, footsteps. But it couldn’t be, you’d locked the door to your room, the only other way in was through the window which you had ensured was locked.

‘Hello?’ You ask tentatively, sitting bolt upright in bed at this point. You weren’t sure if you prayed for an answer or not, at least if there were an answer you’d know for certain that you weren’t alone. But no answer came.

2:41am, you’d checked the clock at least 20 times by now every time you had almost drifted to sleep another creak on the floorboards would tare you from your dreams. It sounded almost as if they were getting closer, they’d began earlier by your mirror and by now they were approaching the head of the bed. Sometimes you even thought you could feel something touching you, lightly re arranging the way your hair fell on the pillow, or something lightly tugging at the blanket that covered your body. But this time you felt it for sure.

The weight on the bed shifted, while you lay in the middle, the bed dipped on the side, the unmistakeable feeling of someone sitting at the side of the bed. Another second and you felt it, a hand on your ankle wrapped tight. Terrified you sit, unable to move. You never imagined this is how you’d be in this position, you’d scream and fight when you’d imagined this scenario previously but you were wrong, so wrong. You lay there silently, only when you felt the grip on your ankle tighten did you even let on that you were awake as you were harshly dragged down the bed, now splayed out in the middle. Before you could scream a hand smacks over your mouth with a slap, silencing any sound that could have come out of you.

‘What were you thinking about?’ A voice in the dark asks, an accent of some sort laced in his words surely belonging to the owner of the strong hands currently pinning you against the bed. ‘Who were you thinking about?’ The voice continues, more demanding this time as the accent becomes clearer, Oliver? Surely not. The sweet, quiet man who sits across from you silenced by his own nervousness every breakfast, it can’t be him. You try to answer, your words muffled by the hand over your mouth, although you’re sure it would be less of an answer and more of a demanding to get out of your room.

‘Was it me? Tell me it was me.’ He demands, his hand dropping from your mouth to your throat, wrapped around tightly grasping at the column of your neck.

‘I-I Uhm’ your reply coming out as nonsense. He was right, you had been thinking of him. You’d seen his physique while sunbathing, sneaking a glance when you believed no one would notice. But now with his hand wrapped around your neck and his body pressing into yours your mind was blank.

‘Answer me’ he demands, hand tightening as his face grows ever closer to yours. At this distance you swear you can almost see the moonlight shining through the window reflecting off of his blue eyes, glimmering at you.

‘You.. it was you’ you stutter out quietly, your words shocking even you as they come out breathy and quiet.

‘What a good girl you’ve been for me’ he says, his grip loosening on your throat as he glides his index finger down your cheek.

‘Bu-but how did you.. where.. what’ you question, a full sentence becoming too much for your brain to handle, but the man on top of you seems to have gotten the gist of your line of questioning.

‘I’ve been watching you’ he replies. ‘You and your little map. Wandering around like you own the place’ his words laced with venom. ‘I’ll admit you did make it harder for me. You thought you were so smart checking everywhere, you never bothered to check within your own room’. He continues as your eyes fight with the dark, darting around every corner of the room. That’s when you spot it, the light reflecting off of the mirror slightly wrong, it was almost as if the glass was rippling, the reflection always seeming a little off, it was a two way mirror. From the spot where it was mounted on the wall, you realised that it was pushed slightly further than usual, the story all making sense in your mind suddenly. You hadn’t been imaging things, you had heard footsteps inside the room, someone was watching you, Oliver.

‘Our rooms share a serving corridor as these old houses do sometimes’ he says as if it was an obvious fact, something everyone would know. He could see a million questions whirling behind your eyes, snapping you out of your thoughts as his soft fingers against your cheek suddenly turn into a slap, grasping your face turning your lips into a pout. ‘Now, I know what you do to sleep and I took the liberty of removing the batteries from your useless little toy there’ he sneers at you, you can almost feel his smirk against your lips as he comes in closer. This was nothing like the man you had vaguely come to know over the last few weeks, he was mean, cruel even and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you admitted that you liked it, you loved this version of Oliver. ‘I thought, just maybe if you’d get impatient enough you’d come to me yourself. But the little miss never came’ he continues, finding himself amusing at his own pun. ‘So I came to you’ putting extra emphasis on his words to make a point as to almost poke at you. ‘Now, I can either leave and go back to my room or I can help you with your predicament. Would you like that?’ He questions, still holding your face in his hands ensuring you look straight into his eyes as your head nods, partially guided by Oliver’s hand moving your face for you. ‘Good girl’ he places a light peck onto your lips. ‘The former was never really an option anyway, did you really think I could leave all this now that I have you here?’ His question sounding more like a statement, he didn’t care about your answer, he decided you belonged to him the moment he stepped into the room. His hand slips from your face, grasping your throat once more before climbing further onto the bed, throwing the covers off of you and pushing your night dress up.

He sighs, the view of you almost making him cum on the spot. Oliver never imagined he’d actually do it, sure he’d thought of the thousand ways he could take you, he wanted to bend you over and fuck your brains out over the breakfast table every morning for the last month and now, in this single sigh he released a months worth of frustration. His desperate hands kneading at the supple flesh of your thighs, roaming up to where he was at his most desperate for you. The moment the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit a jolt of electricity raced through your body, moving you with a shocked flinch against the bed. His eyes bore into yours as if almost warning you to stay still, a warning you would absolutely heed. His eyes transfixed on yours as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nub, gathering slick from your entrance just to return to your clit, your climax building from the moment he touched you. You were almost there, your peak was in sight you could feel it building when he tore his hand from you. A smirk pressed against his lips as he bent down to kiss you, he was proud, he ruined your orgasm and he was proud of it. Just as you settled into the lack of his touch, his lips hovering against yours he plunged his fingers into you, without warning a loud gasp leaving your lips. You knew you’d fucked up the moment the sound left your mouth, his fingers being pulled from you once more.

‘Good girls stay quiet, do you understand me? We wouldn’t want the rest of them finding out how much of a whore you are now would we?’ He sneers, your heart rate increasing as you nod your head again. ‘Such a good girl for me. I’ll make sure to reward you, just stay quiet for me’ he continues, his words softer this time as his fingers return to your warm, wet entrance.

It was harder to stay quiet than you expected. His pace was relentless and now as he kissed down your body, your night dress torn from you and the remaining scrap of fabric now discarded to the floor, the want to moan for him was overwhelming. This was only made worse when his lips wrapped around your sensitive mound. His tongue and fingers moving at the same time, sucking on your most sensitive parts like a man starved. He was desperate for you and now, you were for him. You couldn’t resist it and he could tell, your climax was imminent as you rocked your hips against his mouth. From watching you he knew that you covered your mouth with your hand or bit down onto your fist when you came in an attempt to muffle the sounds. To compensate for this, at the moment your shaking orgasm rippled through your body he shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own juices heavy on your tongue as he suckled and licked you through your peak, his eyes still fixed on yours.

You thought that was it, he said he wanted to help you and he had, you’d half expected him to leave when he tore his own shirt over his head, pushing his boxers down his thighs as he pushes your legs further open with the weight of his own body. With one hand next to your head and his other white knuckle grasping his cock he glided his length through the slick of your pussy. His lustful gaze had left yours now, favouring watching his tip spread you wide for him. Just as your eyes left his face to watch the sight between your legs you were interrupted. ‘Look at me’ he demands ‘I want to see the look on your face when I split you open’ his words being of continuous shock to you, where had your quiet kind man gone?

Although you’d hate to say he was correct, he was. Even with your drenched hole and your legs spread wide for him the burn as he entered you was real. He was unbelievably thick and long, his length impaling you again and again as he begins thrusting into you relentlessly. He was as desperate for release as you were, maybe you should have known, your sweet man in his full right mind would surely never break into your room and do this to you if he wasn’t desperate you reassured yourself. This can’t be the real him after all, it had to be an act.

These thoughts stayed with you for merely seconds as your eyes rejoined his as they flutter open, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan just like his. As if you could both feel the sound about to release your lips came crashing together, muffling the sound of your joint moans as his tongue slips into your month. It was a dirty, sinful act and you loved every second of it. You’d never felt this desperate for anyone in your life. You wanted him to cum inside you, breed you and make you his.

‘Once I cum inside you, you’re mine. Do you understand? I fucking own you’ he says, making you question if he has a future in a career in mind reading. He doesn’t wait for an answer taking the feeling of your walls tightening around his length as the only reply he would ever need again.

His pace quickens his body pressed against yours as his hand clasps over your mouth silencing you, your head held still as he glares into your eyes. You can feel it, his climax nearing, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as he breaks his own rule, groaning loudly into your kiss as he cums within you, his liquid filling you to the brim. The sound reverberates against the walls, someone must have heard that you think as he continues to fill you up. Just as you think he’d stopped, almost possessively he begins to move again. The feeling overwhelming both of your senses as he fucks his cum further into you before pulling out and repeating the same process with his fingers, watching a little bit trickle out before pushing it back inside you once more.

‘You’ll keep this inside you, you understand? You don’t get to clean yourself up’ he demands. ‘You’ll be a good girl for me tomorrow, at 10pm sharp you’ll get into the bath across the hall and wait for me. Got it?’ His demands continue as he places one last harsh kiss onto your lips, your eyes flickering closed for only a second, re opening when your kiss has parted. Just like that he was gone. His clothes, every part of him had left you almost without a trace. Your night dress torn on the floor you ponder how you’ll explain that to the maids in the morning as they’ll have to fix it. You cover yourself with the blanket again, your head pressed against the pillow as you finally go to sleep, the best you’ve slept in 21 days.

Part 2

Message to be added to the tag list! - current tag list: @idontevenknow1359

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Oliver/Reader/Felix}

It had been a long time since your world has revolved around anyone but Felix Catton. He was like that; undeniably, unassumingly magnetic. You'd watched countless fawning, fairweather friends drawn into his orbit, only to be cast out when he eventually got bored of them, but not you, never you. Maybe you were a toy in the beginning, the thing they'd all called you when they were feeling especially petty, but it became clear that Felix has wanted to keep you around.

You weren't a toy, you weren't family, you were a sharp and beautiful tool, too good, too useful to be put down. Your loyalty was rewarded with a life in his shape. Felix was like the sun, and you lived your life enjoying his warmth, and wanting to keep him shining.

And there's something about the way Oliver Quick thinks and talks that you almost recognise. The others call him a toy but the look in his eyes says he's capable of so much more than that. Oliver Quick is not one to be tossed aside either, and you'll do all you can to make Felix see that too.

The three of you; head, heart, hand.

Oliver thinks. Felix feels. You do.

Need to Know: established fwb!Felix/reader, there will be smut, Oliver is a weird obsessive perv and reader recognises and is pretty into it, obviously manipulation, AU with a happy poly ending

[ IN PROGRESS ]

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Part Twenty-Two

Part Twenty-Three

Part Twenty-Four

Part Twenty-Five

Part Twenty-Six

Part Twenty-Seven

Part Twenty-Eight

Part Twenty-Nine

Part Thirty

Part Thirty-One

Part Thirty-Two

Part Thirty-Three

Part Thirty-Four

Part Thirty-Five

Part Thirty-Six

Coda

[ PLUS + ]

a long way down to the bottom of the river - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU (angst / one-shot)

never wanted anything from you (except everything you had) - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU 2 (Oliver/Reader / fluff / one-shot)

seen and not heard - Felix & Reader's First Meeting (fluff / one-shot)

all this, and love too (will ruin us) - Reader Murders Oliver For Trying To Kill Felix (Felix/Reader / angst / one-shot)

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) // epilogue - Reader Dies At The Maze Instead Of Felix (Felix/Oliver / heavy angst / two-shot)

alone with you - Felix Won't Believe The Reader's Dead (Felix/Reader / heavy angst / one-shot)

and other things that happened by the red staircase - Felix Fingers His Cousin (humour / one-shot)

at the other end of the leash - Felix Beats The Shit Out Of Someone For Trying To Assault The Reader (hurt/comfort / one-shot)

they stare at me (and i stare at you) - CEO!Reader AU With Enemies-To-Lovers (Felix/Reader / miniseries)

love the hand that feeds you - puppy play smut (Felix/Reader/Oliver / post head, heart, hand canon / one-shot)

Ask Box Vignettes;

Reader's Family History of Wealth

Felix/Reader - Joking About The Future

Felix/Reader - Sick Day

Felix/Reader/Oliver - Attending Colin & Araminta's Wedding (Crazy Rich Asians Crossover)

AU Tags;

Vampire AU

Fae AU (ft. Demifae!Oliver)

Crazy Rich Asians Crossover

Oliver & Reader Siblings AU

CEO!Reader AU

Felix Catton's Adventures in Employment

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Unrelated Fics & Headcanons;

baby, put your back into it - {Farleigh/Reader/Oliver} - (pwp / two-shot)

Euphoria AU - (12 Years Post Saltburn Canon / dot point headcanons)

----

Other Tags;

#manic-writer; all fics

#it-shouts-back; all asks

#manicpixieart; my posts

#saltburn #felix catton x reader #oliver quick x reader #felix catton imagine #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x you #felix catton x you x oliver quick #manicpixieart #manic writer

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woewriting · 24 days

Text

𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗀!𝗉 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn.

tags. mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick (no pronouns used). friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. | word count. 3726

author's note. will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once.

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device.

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location.

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car.

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home.

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.”

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date.

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar.

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?”

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?”

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand.

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t.

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip.

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.”

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?”

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace.

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard.

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you.

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly.

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release.

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly.

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?”

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling.

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move.

“This feels so fucking good.”

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist.

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie.

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile.

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?”

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm.

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?”

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

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azullumi · 15 days

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"baby, stay beside me a little longer" ; aventurine

premise — how you spend your day with him.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship, fluff, domestic, not proofread, text messages, 1.7k words ; headcanons

tagging — @toorurs (hi, we don't mention the event fics we have to do hahaha)

note — i miss him and i had the urge to write skincare aventurine. 3 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

morning

As sunlight streams through the window accompanied with the gentle chirping of the birds outside, there’s no guarantee that one of you always wakes up first before the other. Sometimes it’s him that wakes up first and sometimes it’s you—it occasionally depends if one of you has plans later on or has a free day.

“What’s on your schedule for today?” You ask him, watching him as he buttons his shirt. Daylight illuminates the room and the sound of leaves rustling outside as the breeze flies past fills your morning, albeit you are still laying in bed, not having the desire to move. Aventurine is the opposite of your state right at this moment—already fresh out of his bath (the faint scent of his soap clings to his skin), dressing into his work clothes, though his hair is still messy. Honey-dyed locks tousled, with some strands sticking to the back of his neck and some on his face.

“I have a client to interview this afternoon. It was scheduled for next week but they changed it to today.” There was a hint of frustration in his tone as he spoke. You could immediately tell that the reschedule caused some issues with his plans so you didn’t press on any further. “Will you be home late tonight then?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll be home early.”

“What do you want to eat for dinner?” You say, remembering that you had no plans for today so you’ll just be staying home the whole time. Aventurine puts on his blazer, humming as he thought for a moment, before he answers: “I was thinking of taking you out tonight.”

You beam a smile at him, watching as he fixes the mess out of his hair and sprays perfume on himself soon after, knowing that the scent of it will follow you while he’s gone. “Oh, really? Where?” However, he doesn’t answer but instead, walks towards you and bends down to your level to give you a quick peck on your lips.

“You’ll see.”

He’ll often ask for your help in tying his tie. He knows how to do it, even much better than you, but he prefers the messy work of your hands than his own. Some of his co-workers would point out how his tie looks messy as if he did it in a rush and while he may laugh and nod, he won’t do anything about it. To him, it’s a reminder of you.

MORNING LAZINESS. It just happens but it’s not always that it does—you’re there besides him still too sleepy and grumbling on not wanting to leave the bed yet and how could he refuse? Sure, your hold on him is not that tight and he could easily slip out of your grasp, and sure, you may be close to falling asleep again and you won’t notice if he leaves but your skin is warm and close, your hands are soft on his, and the sound of your breathing comforts him. How could he?

noon

Your middays are often spent separately—both of you accomplishing your own sets of responsibilities. Aventurine would occasionally send you messages asking if you have had lunch already, asking what you’re doing, and telling you about how everything is going for him. Although the conversation doesn’t last that long, always being interfered with by either someone or something.

Your phone buzzes and the screen lights up as you receive a new notification. You were expecting a nonsense reminder from one of your apps but instead, it was a message and it was from none other than your lover, Aventurine.

However, on rare occasions that the both of you are at home and have no set plans for the day, he’ll spend his time together with you. You want to go on a spontaneous date? Sure, he was going to ask you out anyways. Feeling lazy and just want to be in bed the whole day? That’s fine, he wasn’t planning on doing anything. . You want to do something together but not want to go out? Perhaps you can bake and try out this new recipe, that is if you have the needed ingredients at your home.

evening

Evenings are saved for the both of you, which means nothing related to work. It’s the only time of the day where you and he are free from any of your responsibilities—unless, of course, he still has some things to do but that rarely happens. He’ll often come home with a gift or a bouquet of flowers that you like; he’ll only answer you with, “Just because,” if ever you would ask him what’s the occasion. It’s just something that he does, something that you should get used to.

However, there are moments where you have to spend your night alone as he has to come home late and there are moments that you’ll wait for him and he’ll come home to find you asleep on the sofa. A pang of guilt hits him as he crouches in front of you, brushing a few strands away from your face and whispering an apology that only the moon could hear. He’ll carry you to bed soon after.

The way you spend your evenings with him can vary—it could be a game night between you two which will become heated due to how competitive the both of you can be, or a movie night wherein looking for what to watch can take a longer time than the movie itself, or just something simple and relaxing for the both of you.

“You always have so many interesting stories to tell.”

“Is it bad?” You answer him, worry lingering in your voice. You were telling him of how your day went and how you saw something fascinating when you went out earlier, and he was sitting behind you, drying your hair since you had just taken a bath. You could feel his fingers run through your hair, the dryer in hand as he pointed the nozzle towards the crown of your head. The air blowing from it feels warm—just enough to not feel like it’s going to burn off your scalp—and combined with the gentleness of his hand, it all feels comforting, soothing.

“No, it’s not. I just feel bad and perhaps,” He turns off the dryer and places it down beside him, “I also feel guilty.”

You immediately turn to him, eyebrows knitted as your expression warps into a mix of surprise and concern: “But why?”

He hesitates, averting away from your gaze, “I don’t have much to tell you, I don’t have exciting or interesting stories to say.” He’s afraid you’ll find him boring, that you’ll get tired of him but what he doesn’t realize is that you won’t, and you never will.

“That's completely okay. You don't need to have something to say all the time.” You’re fine with it—even if you have to sit in silence with him, even if the days are becoming repetitive and tiring, as long as you’re with him, as long as you feel his hand in yours, it will all be fine. You touch the side of his cheek, “I’m just happy to spend time with you and talk about anything, or nothing at all. How has your day been?”

He turns his head to look at you—an alluring pair of vibrant and pristine hues, a pool of clear and vivid richness hidden in the depths of his eyes meets your gaze once more; “Nothing much happened. I met some clients and helped them, had a short meeting, and just did my work.”

“You didn’t go to the casino?”

“I was planning to but I wanted to see you more.”

A soft laugh escapes from your lips: “Is that so?” And he only hums as an answer, leaning forward to snake his arms around your waist and pull you closer to him before he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder. And you swear you hear him whisper the words, “I love you.”

Most likely has a nighttime skincare routine which he does with you (there’s no way his skin is that flawless and fair for no reason like you’re telling me that’s genetics???). He’ll be coming out of the bathroom with a clay mask or sheet mask on his face and he can’t speak because he doesn’t want to mess up the placement of the product and he’ll help you in putting yours on. The both of you on the bed with your robes on, hair either pushed back or tied, and there’s a pair of cucumber slices on your eyes along with a mask on your face.

He has trouble sleeping and it takes a lot for him to fall asleep—he’ll tire himself out, going on late night runs, exercise, drinking anything that could help him feel sleepy, anything. He’ll often spend his time tossing and turning while in bed and perhaps even counting sheep in his mind but somehow, just listening to your voice or the sound of your breathing makes it all easy for him. He’ll listen to you talk and tell stories and he’ll feel his eyes getting heavier in each second, as a warm and soft feeling envelops him like a blanket, and your voice will turn into a distant lullaby that guides him into slumber.

He wouldn’t even notice that he’s falling asleep in each second but maybe you do, maybe you’ll see the way he relaxes as his eyes threaten to close and his breathing comes steady, and maybe that’s why your voice keeps on getting softer until it turns into humming as you stroke his hair gently. He’ll apologize in the morning, telling you that perhaps he was so tired and he didn’t mean to fall asleep but you’ll assure him that it’s all okay.

Through the mundane things, in the boring days and the exciting ones, in days that you and him argue, in days that it all feels unbearable and suffocating, in every single moment with you, he’ll love you (tear him apart from skin to bones, see him for his heart, and you’ll notice your name carved into it).

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mangocheesecakes · 2 months

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the scammer @/rescueplease has now been deleted, but since a lot of people are still reblogging my posts about it, i'm changing my pinned post to a list of currently active scam accounts

scammers with the same m.o., sometimes similar profile pics and linktrees/paypal addresses:

> numberonegoateeeagle (paypal name 'Jeff Owino') new

> nour-samr (paypal name 'Nour Samar') >> nour-samr0 new/remake

scammer pretending to be a sick Black person, using the paypal name, 'Alafred Opondo'

> enchantingqueencreator

the 'insulin scammer''s latest blog (at least i think it's their latest blog:

> fancycoffeepeanut

empty blogs who are mass-reblogging the scam posts and are likely just the scammers sock puppet accounts used to pad the notes of their posts, pls block them too:

> chopra-79

> futuristicphilosopherartisan new

deleted/deactivated/changed url:

maina-3

immariaanszz >> iammarinassaa >> iammarinassaass

jovialsuitdonutai (paypal name 'jeff owino')

khalilhan (paypal name 'samuel obiya') >> khaliilhan

marylinfwaznassar (paypal name 'maryline lucy')

stickytreephilosopher (paypal name 'jeff owino')

perfectlyminiatureface (paypal name 'jeff owino')

optimisticalpacalady (paypal 'jeff owino')

omarkhalini (paypal 'fred odhiambo')

marylinefwaznassar (paypal 'maryline lucy')

khalilhani (paypal 'samuel obiya')

weepingpersondestiny (paypal 'jeff owino')

as always, please block and report these blogs, and more importantly, warn your friends, mutuals, and followers if you see them reblogging their scam posts. if you see a donation post/blog that you believe may be a scam, please do look their url up first on the tumblr search bar to see if someone has already called them out. i will try to update this post with the scammers' new accounts/url as we discover them. please also go to @kyra45's blog, as they are faster and more thorough in updating about newly discovered scams.

some red flags to look out for before sharing donation posts/donating:

new blog, or a couple years old but has only a few random, sporadic posts

backdated posts

spamming asks to a lot of other users, even the ones they don't know or have just followed, and even when the user has made it clear they don't want to receive requests to boost dono posts

is asking you to answer their asks privately, or is sending you a message directly

is straight up asking you for money, and usually for impossibly large amounts

do not put their paypal/money transfer links on their post itself, usually claiming it's to protect their 'privacy'

is using Zelle for their money transfer account, especially if the person is claiming to be in Palestine

please don't be so quick to entertain donation requests and to give away your money, especially if the user ticks a lot of these boxes. if you are familiar with the place they say they are from or the language they are supposed to speak, try conversing with them for a bit to see if their claims would hold. you can also browse my 'donation scam' tag or kyra45's blog to compare if the user has any similarities with past scammers that we've discovered.

that's it po. let's all try our best to look out for each other and make sure that our resources are going to the actual people in need, especially in the case of Palestinians asking for help. the last thing they need right now is for shitty lowlifes to use their suffering to make a profit.

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macabr3-barbi3 · 1 month

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CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed.

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh.

Right over his head.

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring.

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you.

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of.

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,�� he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him.

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed Val coming into a room.

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants.

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with.

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach.

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

#vox x reader #vox smut #hazbin vox #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #x reader #my stuff <3

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

Text

take the call

rating: t ♥️ cw: off-screen car accident (but EVERYTHING IS FINE), hurt/comfort, softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, married steddie, hurt/comfort, rockstar Eddie/teacher Steve, Steve's heart of gold is very possibly going to be Eddie's undoing one of these days, well-worn-soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: Love is terrifying (@starryeyedjanai)

set in the 00s, with Steve and Eddie having two decades of loving under their belts, now ♥️

Eddie isn’t expecting a call, any call, really; he’s in the studio, like, if he gets a call someone takes a message or whatever.

And in fairness, Eddie doesn’t get the call.

He gets a message.

“Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth.

“Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.”

He’s not thoughtless at all about the way he clocks the tension in Jeff’s voice even across the speaker system; it’s entirely automatic how he freezes, how he looks up and locks eyes with his friend through the glass and sucks in a sharp breath for the look on his face: pained.

Maybe, maybe scared.

Eddie’s heart drops somewhere near his knees, but beats there so fucking hard.

“This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but—

“She, um,” Jeff’s voice is filtering through again, and Eddie clocks that there’s…there’s something more to it, more than his brain’s willing to grasp just yet but his body’s apparently picked up on because he thinks the slightest breeze would knock him over and shatter him into pieces, for the tightness in his body; he’s not focused enough to count the separate beats of his pulse but he can tell it’s quick enough already, still weighed down near his feet, that counting would be kinda hard, would take effort:

“She found the phone at a car crash?”

So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew.

Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.

“Sounded kinda like, uh, like it could have been Steve’s phone,” Jeff is trying to tell him, and part of Eddie hears it, part of him does but most of him is white noise, is pins-and-needles, is underwater and drowning and not even fucking thinking of fighting the pull because he can’t, he’s heavy at the legs and his lungs are seizing and there’s, he’s—

“Because it, umm, she found the card because the case was broken?” and just last night Eddie’d watched Steve pop off the case and slide the cards behind with a laugh and a promise to take them with him not today—because it’s one of those federal holidays that only schools notice happening, like the post office is still open—but definitely tomorrow, never knew which of the kiddos at the Rich People School might be a budding metalhead underneath their uniforms—

“And she said the case was, um, like bright—“

Green.

Electric lime neon fuckin’ green because after three times of Eddie taking Steve’s phone by accident he’d come home with that endearing eyesore, and a kiss to the bridge of Eddie’s nose and a soft hard to confuse that, babe nuzzled against him and—

“It could maybe have just been a coincide—“ Jeff’s talking but Eddie can’t fucking hear it, not really, not when he’s letting the door slam behind him and ripping off his headphones to drop to the groundnut when he’s gasping hard enough to crack a rib, not when the floor’s gone out from underneath him and his vision’s tunneled and nothing seems real, and everything feels too real, every world ending possibility shuddering through his foggy mind alongside every heartbreakingly perfect memory blossoming up unbidden just to serve as a reminder, an underscoring of what he stands to lose, what maybe he’s already fucking lost—

He meets Jeff’s eyes without the glass between them as he grabs his keys from his jacket on the couch and makes himself take the breath that’ll fuel the voice, that’ll give him words, just one word, he needs, he fucking needs—

“Where?”

_______________________

Eddie shouldn’t have driven himself, he knows that.

Like, on some other plane of existing, he’s sure he knows that.

But on this plane, he rips past his bandmates, all the extra people with them for recording, jams the close-door button before anyone can follow him into the elevator because he happens to know this one’s quicker than the stairs even on a good day, and this—

Eddie’s shaking so goddamn hard he can barely get one foot in front of the other, he really doesn’t think he can manage ten fucking flights of steps.

He burns rubber on the way out of the parking lot, and the nearest hospital to where Steve would have been—on his day off, because holiday, he’d have bene close to home, he mentioned food shopping, he thought he might make stir-fry but he wasn’t sure, they hadn’t made a vegetable haul from the Asian market downtown in a couple weeks and they need to, they need to but Steve wasn’t feeling like going on his own, because he might not say it out loud but they both know he enjoys Eddie’s excitability when new items hit the shelves and he can’t read the language they’re labelled in so he guesses frantically until the man who owns the place takes pity, only laughs a little and explains what this spice is for, or that that crazy looking thing’s a fruit, and they ultimately buy whatever it is because Eddie wants to try it now, because he got invested and—

Eddie should pull off the fucking road; his head’s a mess, he can’t see for the way his eyes are welling, streaming, the way he’s shaking with sobs that don’t exactly burst forth, just leak from his lashes as he trembles horrifically because…

Because they were maybe gonna have stir-fry, tonight. Even without the good vegetables.

They were—

Eddie thinks it’s fucking cruel, kind of unbearably so, that his brain’s dead-set on still processing the mundane little perfections of his life as if every single one of them might be dashed to pieces, might be hanging by a thread, might be entirely fucking gone, and he, he…

He can’t. He just, he fucking can’t.

Because that the thing, isn’t it: the scenarios he’s imagining aren’t hypothetical—they’re all memories, too. Steve bloodied, Steve bruised, Steve’s bones broken and flesh torn. Steve still, too still; Steve’s skin under Eddie’s hands when he can’t find a pulse because Eddie’s shaking, same as now how Eddie is fucking shaking—

Eddie knows all those things. They’re so long ago, now, so distant but his fucking cells will never forget every single moment he saw the man he loves bigger than his own goddamn life hurt like that; be risked like that. Be lost like—

And that’s the difference. That’s what is unravelling him as he speeds through the streets quicker than he should, probably breaking more laws than he could count and definitely more than he gives a shit to notice: it’s the losing.

Because the first times, even the times that came after Steve was his: they didn’t come with the loss of so much time, so much of themselves, so much glorious life that they’d built between them, the struggles and the triumphs, the hard choices and the easy things that weren’t choices at all: everything hand-in-hand, every night spent curled around each other, all of them, all of him, inside that chest since he was twenty fucking year old, and Eddie doesn’t just not know how to be outside of what he shares with Steve.

Eddie doesn’t think his own heart can survive, if if Steve’s isn’t next to him.

Eddie’s damn fucking sure no part of him would want to.

It takes him a minute to steady himself enough to get out of the car, once he finally reaches the ER. Steady his body, but more his fucking soul because the whole of him is shaking, is crying out, is wailing unfettered and breaking because he’s terrified, he is goddamn terrified of what he’s going to find when he walks in but he has to, he has to because whatever awaits him, that’s his husband, that is the love of his whole goddamn life and if the worst is going to come for him he’ll face it like he’s faced everything else: at Steve Harrington’s side.

If the worst comes for one of them, then it came for them both.

So he’s stumbling, shuddering, but resolute in his chest when he flies through the sliding doors, eyes still swimming, unfocused but he makes himself take a deep breath—it takes a few tries, and he doesn’t quite succeed, it’s still a tremorous thing and his lungs are still in revolt, but it’s something, and he’ll take something; he has to to take something—

“Eddie?”

He almost doesn’t register it, the voice from the sick-spiral of his memories, all the love on the table to be forfeit—

He almost doesn’t register that his name’s not coming from inside his head.

“Oh my god, what happened?” There’s a flurry over motion in front of him, and he blinks rapidly to try and pin it down because it looks familiar, it smells familiar, it aches familiar in his chest but:

“What is it, what’s wrong?” and fuck, it feels familiar when a hand reaches for his cheek where it’s still damp, tacky for the tears; when another hand slides itself into Eddie’s and draws him in, a hand that fits like no other hand in this world or any other, ever—

“Are you okay?”

And the hand on his cheek turns him and follows his eyes and it takes that long for him to clear his vision properly, but now he’s just blinking so much because that, that can’t be, even if it feels in every goddamn way like it really is, but it can’t…

It can’t be Steve here, whole and on his feet and looking at Eddie with so much worry, so much heart as he tilts Eddie’s chin a little this way, that way, squints to try and see…something.

Eddie’s breath tears out of him in a wet fucking gasp;

“Am I okay?”

Because Eddie’s really not the one to fucking worry about here, Steve had—

“You’re in a hospital, Eds, that’s not usually where you go when you’re okay,” Steve’s eyes widen as he he slides both hands now to Steve’s head, holding him still and assessing…something, maybe, Jesus: Eddie doesn’t know, but he does know that the touch on him now makes his…makes his heart feel safe and he’d been fucking terrified he’d never feel that again.

“Fuck, what happened, baby, did you hit your,” and fingers are dancing gentle across points on Eddie’s skull, so delicate and careful and he can’t fucking help it—

“Are you real?”

Because he needs to know, he needs to know with words because this feels…this feels right and warm and impossible but also true, so.

He needs to know. “Am I…?” Steve’s lips part and his brow furrows before his jaw clenches in that dependable way he has of squaring up to the monster at hand, no matter the kind.

“Shit,” he breathes out slow but then he nods: resolved; “shit, okay. Okay, let’s find—“

“You are real,” and it turns out Eddie didn’t actually need him to say it. He just needed to see the flash in Steve’s eyes when he was ready to take on the world for the sake of love, the way he positions himself a little different in front of Eddie as he keeps one hand at Eddie’s cheek but then slides to brace more at his neck, purposeful, like he’s splinting a wound or something, and then a hand grabs for Eddie’s own again and: oh.

Oh yes. That is Steve Harrington, living and breathing and solid and real, because no one else protects like this.

No one.

Eddie’s heart stumbles, jackrabbits around a little, almost like a reset: like it knows as the implications sink in to Eddie’s mind that it’s not destined to break anymore.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees too easily, distracted as he tugs the gentlest bit at Eddie’s hand, toward the nurse’s station; “yeah, and we should—“

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve shrugs it off, but Eddie…Eddie’s vision is clearing. His pulse is settling. He can hear above the static and his limbs are getting lighter.

“You’re one-hundred-percent okay, not a scratch on you, not a single thing wrong,” he needs to make sure, like, so fucking sure.

“I am fine, Eddie,” Steve turns to look him straight on, exasperated and anxious and vibrant with it, so alive in it; “but you’re—“

Eddie’s hand moves almost without his conscious consent, definitely without a plan to grab at Steve’s arm and pinch his skin because Eddie was vaguely toying with the idea of pinches himself, and maybe with poking Steve a few extra times to make sure he didn’t disappear, but apparently his brain landed on: pinch Steve, avoid confirmation bias if your head wants to lie enough to make him real just you you, because you need him that bad.

Steve startles, and turns those beautiful brilliant bronze eyes on Eddie, stretches wide as he gapes a little at his husband.

Eddie…Eddie is here, in front of his living-breathing-gorgeously-aghast husband.

“Okay, oww,” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls back, leaving Eddie’s head to its own devices as he looks a little shocked, shooting just shy of a glare Eddie’s way: full of questions.

Eddie—now that the biggest one’s solved, and solved so perfect, so gentle and sure and he doesn’t have to bury the soul of him; he doesn’t have to bury his soul—but now?

Eddie also has some fucking questions.

“Where’s your phone?” seems the most relevant to start with.

Steve blinks, frowns a little:

“It got lost in the crash—“

“Crash?” Eddie’s tone pitches up to squeak a little because: Steve’s here and whole in from of him, yes. But fuck, there was still a crash? He was—

“Not mine, my car’s still parked at fucking Jiffy Lube,” Steve adds with a huff; “I saw it happen so I stopped and—“

And Eddie knows his husband. He knows his husband better than he knows himself, and Eddie’s kinda made it a point of pride for how self-aware he’s grown to be these days, in living this life and loving Steve beyond the bounds of living at all. But he knows his Steve, and so he knows damn well what happened.

Car runs into car. Steve sees it and jumps out to help. Because Steve Harrington is a protector. Steve Harrington is a helper. Steve Harrington is the best man Eddie’s ever known.

Soon as he jumped into the fray, he wouldn’t have thought once about a fucking phone.

And Eddie, Eddie just, he needs to—

He grabs Steve’s hands and wraps them around his own waist, lets them go and then pulls Steve tight to his chest and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder as Eddie winds his way around his husband, feels him breathing, feels the tickle of his hair.

“You’re gonna kill me, Stevie,” Eddie whimpers, that going tight now all over again:

“You’ve got the biggest heart of fucking gold the world’s ever seen,” he moans into Steve’s collar; “and you’re going to fucking kill me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his hands move up to rub Eddie’s back, rote and learned and he might not wholly get, yet, what Eddie’s putting together, and where Eddie’s head’s been, what his heart’s been through, but the first thing he knows, and does like clockwork, is to love of his partner, to soothe him even if he doesn’t know what for.

“Someone found your phone, and they, umm,” Eddie licks his lips, takes a suffering breath and tries to straighten but he’s not ready, not yet: he slumps right back onto Steve’s shoulder:

“They called the studio.”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, bunches his hands in Eddie’s shirt and draws him tighter to his chest: “shit, they interrupted,” and oh, fuck no, fuck regretting the interruption—

“They told me they found it at a crash site,” Eddie grits out, the hurt of it still raw, like just saying the words no matter where they landed in trust, just recalling those minutes that felt like full nightmarish lifetimes, reopens the tender wounds it’d left in hims; “they found it with the case broken,” and Steve leans back, then, eyes saucers as he meets Eddie’s gaze, breath catches harsh.

“Oh,” Steve whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Eddie’s, taking the whole of him in and then he exhales so heavy:

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, fucking mournful before he takes his hands and links them behind the base of Eddies’ skull and draws him in to the center of his chest, envelopes him there whole: “come here.”

And Eddie falls into that chest—rising-falling-living—he falls into Steve so fucking fast

“I am totally fine, I promise you,” Steve breathes again Eddie’s ear, close and dear and real: “car’s fine—“

“I don’t fucking care about the car—“ Eddie tenses up, appalled at the implication that he gave one single goddamn thought to the car— “No, like, as proof,” Steve’s quick to correct him, to ease the hackles on him; “I wasn’t in the crash, but it was pretty bad and,” Steve shrugs a little then adds soft: “I keep my first aid certs up to date for a reason, I figure, right?”

Jesus; yes, okay. Steve’s savior complex had largely mellowed to a non-interdimensional-threat level with time but he’s meticulous about keeping every skillset he’d gone out of his way to learn from professionals before they’d gone up against the Upside Down for the last time sharp and at the ready for anything: even now.

Fuck, but this beautiful, brilliant, impossible man.

“I was helping, best I could, until the EMTs got there,” Steve tells him softly, fills in the gaps because he knows Eddie’s mind, all the pictures it paints for itself, and in times like these it’s always the worst possible pictures—he knows Eddie needs the slate wiped clean with the truths, blessedly softer, in this:

“Police wanted me to stick around for a statement but the girl who was driving the first car, she was so panicked and she didn’t want to go alone so, umm,” Steve huffs a little, shifts against Eddie gentle and solid and here: “she said she knew me, she was pretty desperate I think, so I rode here with her,” and of course he did, of course he did because he’s Steve; “now I’m just waiting to make sure she gets out of surgery okay,” he squeezes Eddie then, like a punctuation, and it feels so, so fucking good; “also still have to give the goddamn statement, but fuck knows that’s just hurry-up-and-wait,” he turns, and he kisses Eddie’s hair then and Eddie feels something snap in him, give way and the lingering tension spill from his frame as he gasp a little on a breathy exhale:

“I love you so much,” and he does, god: god, but how much he loves this man.

“I love you too, baby,” Steve mouths against his head and Eddie closes his eyes and nuzzles his a little closer as he puts it into words, because it feels like he needs to, it feels like in Steve’s arms like this, pressed up close to him to feel this undeniable life in him: it feels like the coast is clear enough to risk it, to confess:

“I was so fucking scared,” and the words only break a little, and that’s more than Eddie honestly expected.

“I am so sorry,” Steve bows his chin down to graze lips against Eddie’s hairline, delicate and intimate and shivery, trembly down Eddie’s spin for the best of reasons, now.

“Not your fault,” Eddie’s quite to counter, to make clear, because: “shit, you didn’t do anything, I just…”

Eddie makes himself pull back and meet Steve’s eyes, reaches out to frame his face, dear and desperate:

“I can’t lose you,” he moans a little, begs a little, says it with a bare line of something primal echoing in it, scraped straight from his bones: “I cannot ever lose you.”

“I know,” Steve turns and kisses one of his palms, and those two words hold the promise of five more they’ve said so many times, and held so true between them for so many year, through so fucking much:

It’s the same for me.

And to be loved the same as he loves is a fucking privilege; it’s heady and it’s wonderful and Eddie needs it, needs Steve, more than goddamn air.

“Sit with me?” Steve covers Eddie’s hands with his at his cheeks, and nods a little toward the blessedly-quiet collection of chairs by the windows; “while I wait?”

“Nowhere else I’d go,” Eddie says it like the given that it is, and pulls Steve close to kiss him full, to press his lips to Steve’s and drink his warmth, his breath, to feel it sink int past his heart and pump through his veins:

“Not ever, Stevie,” he speaks against Steve’s lips, all of him in it, every vow inside it:

“Not ever.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #established relationship #established steddie #married steddie #rockstar eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #rockstar husbands #steve harrington's heart of gold #(will quite possibly be the death of his husband holy FUCK)#criminal levels of softness #steddielovemonth #love is terrifying #these two boys have been together for DECADES at this point and it FUCKING SHOWS #old married couple!steddie #stranger things

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jj-one · 1 month

Text

A MODERN LOVE STORY.

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

When your tinder date who was supposed to be just a hook up becomes your boyfriend within a week.

pairing: han jisung x f!reader genre/tags: pwp, smut, fluff, jisung is such a gentleman, fingering, oral (m receiving), piv, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), major size kink, slight daddy kink (not surprised), jisung has huge dick, jisung cums on readers face, i think that's it Imk if i missed any o_0 words: 4.5k

**old repost from my deleted blog

Dating apps were never really your thing, you’ve always been an “old fashioned” kind of girl. You’ve secretly dreamt of meeting your lover in a grocery store or bumping into them at a library where you instantly fall in love. Unfortunately, you can’t be delusional forever, your Prince Charming isn’t going to just come knocking for you at your doorstep. Unless…you find someone who can come to your doorstep but through an app, Tinder. You decided to give it a try and see what all the hype was about after your best friend Ryujin raved about all the hot guys she was meeting— and banging.

You often found yourself quite jealous of all the good sex she was getting, she could have anything she wanted all at her fingertips. You were always horny and looking for the next toy to play with but you decided maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to try and find a cute guy to hook up with and relieve some quick stress. You may be old fashioned but you weren’t too uptight to have a hook up once in a while.

You downloaded Tinder for once in your lifetime and wrote in all your info, chose your best photos, and made a silly little bio. Your bio was just ‘looking for a fun time, need someone who can break my back, not my heart’ you know it super lame but most guys like corny shit like that anyway. You swiped for ages and ages, barely giving anyone a right swipe because you were way too picky. They had to be top tier in the visual department even if they were just a one night stand, you’ll always have standards. You were getting tired of swiping and just about to call it a night up until you swiped on the next profile. His name was Han and he only lived 2.5 miles from you.

As you were scrolling through his profile, you couldn’t stop thinking how hot he was, his hair was blonde, and he always wore the same cross necklace in his all photos. You read his profile some more and saw that he has a dog named Bbama and you smiled at how adorable his dog was. You instantly swiped right after seeing the dog pics and you couldn’t believe you matched with him already. Your heart kind of skipped a beat for a second and you closed the app immediately. You didn’t think he’d be so quick to match with you and you wanted to message him but your pride got in the way. You figured he’s way too fine to even message you back, he probably gets floods of messages from girls asking. You decide to play it cool and not say anything, instead you took a screenshot of his profile and sent it to Ryujin.

She texts you back a couple minutes later and says she thinks he’s really hot, you’re glad she approves but you’re not surprised that she wouldn’t. You go through his profile again and see that he has his Instagram linked to his Tinder, you go to his Instagram account and continue your stalking spree. You see a bunch of pics of his dog, food, and mostly outdoorsy stuff. You didn’t figure him to be the wilderness type of guy but he was, he’s been hiking all over different mountains and has photos of him at the very top. You were in awe of how fearless this man was, you were swayed already by how he presented himself.

Your phone buzzes with a new notification.

‘Han sent you a message’ Tinder alerts you of 2 new notifications from him. You open the messages immediately, a huge grin plastered on your face as you read what he said to you.

‘Hi y/n’

‘What’s your favorite food?’

‘I’m taking notes on where I need to take you on our first date’

That was very smooth but also straightforward, you liked him already.

‘Pho, I could eat it everyday’

‘You’re already planning our date? lol’

You sent the messages and texted Ryujin straight away, telling her how much of a success this was already going. She tells you how much she was right all along and how you’ve been missing out this whole time, you just giggle at her shenanigans.

You get another notification from Tinder and it’s from your favorite new guy already.

‘Yes, how could I not? You’re a 10/10’

You smile to yourself when reading at that comment, you never really saw yourself as a perfect 10 but if someone this highly attractive sees you that way then you must be a smokeshow. Han sends you another message,

‘I can pick you up tmrw at 5? Dinner is on me babe so no need to bring a wallet ;)’

You bit your lip at that last sentence, who would’ve known someone this sexy could be your sugar daddy AND fuck buddy? Ok well maybe the sugar daddy part was just a joke. It definitely turned you on knowing that he’s willing to spend his money on you without you feeling guilt about it though.

‘See you at 5 <3’ you reply to him.

The very next day you’re in the car going to your date with Han. The moment you laid eyes on him there was a lustful nature that came out of you. You didn’t even think it could be possible but he looked even better in person, the pictures didn’t do him justice whatsoever. His jawline was insane, it was sharp and looked absolutely perfect from his side profile. His hair was a little messy but in a really cute way, he had a small silver stud in his ear and wore his cross necklace like the one in his photos. You couldn’t believe it was really him in your driveway, he had to be the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. He wore a plain black T-shirt with baggy jeans and converse, he looked effortlessly cool. He was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other was playing with his radio. He was trying to get the Aux cord to work properly but it just wasn’t cooperating with him, he decides to just leave it alone.

“So uh.. anyway is this your first Tinder date?” He asks trying to break the awkward silence.

“Yeah, actually it is,” you tell him “I’m not the hugest fan of dating apps but I decided why not give it a shot.” You say as your shrug your shoulders.

“Ah I see, well you met me so that’s a good sign so far right?” He asks with a goofy grin on his face, you couldn’t help but giggle at his quirkiness.

You talk for a bit more in the car and get to know each other, as you’re getting nearer to the destination he comes to a stop into a parking lot. He gets out of the car first and opens the door for you on your side.

“M’lady,” Han says in a funny voice, taking your hand in his as you get out the car. You’re loving his silly and fun energy so far, it’s definitely bringing your mood up as you had no expectations for how this would go.

The date ended up going extremely well, you both couldn’t stop laughing and cracking jokes together. Everything felt super lighthearted and easygoing with Han, you felt like you could say just about anything with him, feeling like you’ve known him for much longer than a couple of hours. He bought so much expensive meat for the both of you at the restaurant and the pho was fantastic. You’ve never been to this particular restaurant before as it was a bit too out of your price range, you were surprised when he told you he ate here frequently. You wanted to ask him what he does for a living but you don’t want to seem rude. You ate as much as you could and he definitely ate way more than you, lightly making fun at the way you eat. You do eat pretty slow so you aren’t shocked by the way he’s noticing that already.

You like the way Han eats because he stores food in his cheeks like a squirrel, usually that action would give you the ick but with him you find it quite endearing. Once you both finish eating at the restaurant he takes you to a pier where there’s pretty lights near the water. It was a nice day to go out on a walk so he grabbed your hand and led the way down the path. You guys talked so much for hours about any and everything, you talked for so long that you ended up watching the sunset together, then looked at the stars. When you looked down and noticed that you’ve been holding hands with him this whole time, but you didn’t want to point it out to Han incase he’d let go.

You’ve spent a total of only 5 hours with this man but you really do feel as though you’ve known him your whole life. He was so fun to talk to, handsome, and literally the sweetest person ever, it made you question how someone this perfect could even be single. You really couldn’t wait any longer for him to end up in your bed tonight and that’s exactly what you planned to happen. As the night progresses you ask him if he wants to come back to your place for the night. He looks surprised yet obliges and drives back to your apartment. It was pretty late at night and you only had your tiny lamp in the kitchen on, so you couldn’t see much of where you were going. You turn around to face Han who’s been staring you up and down this whole time.

You didn’t even have much time to take off your jacket before Han’s lips were all over yours. His hands roamed all over your body and yours were now tangled in his messy blonde hair. He startles you for a second when he picks you up and lifts you onto the marble kitchen countertop, not breaking the kiss once. He bites down on your lower lip slightly, making you gasp so he can easily slip his tongue in you. His movements were gentle and he kisses you so passionately, one of his hands comes up behind your neck and the other is stroking the apex of your thigh. As you both pull away from kissing, he stops to stare at you for the longest second.

“You are so beautiful y/n,” he says, stroking your hair and tucking some behind your ear, then he kisses your ear and licks it. He continues peppering a few more kisses downwards and to your neck, beginning to suck lightly, causing you to let out a quiet moan. He leaves a couple small hickies around your neck and kisses your lips once again. You tug at his T-shirt and motion for him to take it off, he does as he’s told and removes it from his body. You get a faint look at his chest since it’s a such little bit of light in the kitchen, from what you can see however, he looks perfect. When he comes closer, you can feel his rock solid abs, you know he works out but you weren’t expecting him to be this fit.

You go back to making out for awhile and his hands are now laid on your chest. He cups both of your boobs in his hands and kneads them through your thin shirt, he realizes this isn’t enough for him so he slides his hands underneath your shirt. He ran his fingers against your nipples and starts to pinch them lightly, making you moan directly into his mouth. He groans when you bring your hand lower to his pelvis, trying to locate his belt so you can tell him to take it off. You finally reach something you presume to be leather and you grab it, bringing his body closer to you in the process.

“You want me to take this off huh?” Han asks, pointing to his belt but all you see is his erect dick print through his jeans.

You nod your head profusely, “yes pleasee, right now!”

He grins at you while slowly taking off his belt, throwing it down on the floor and now he’s stroking his cock through his pants. You hear him groan a little bit as you can see him palming himself, wanting to take him in your mouth so bad.

“Let me give you head,” you say almost desperately, you didn’t mean for it to sound so needy but you really wanted— no needed his cock.

“Okay,” he says smiling back at you, “sounds great to me.”

You get up from the kitchen counter and now position yourself on the floor, on your knees. You never pictured yourself to be the one sucking a random guy off Tinder’s dick but hey, things just so happen to turn out that way. You unzip Han’s pants and gently pull them down, he was wearing pink supreme boxers and you expected nothing less from him. You pull down his boxers too and his erect cock springs up out of them like a slinky. Eyes growing wide in awe as you couldn’t wait for his giant, thick cock to go into your mouth. You start to stroke his length and realize that one hand won’t be enough to do the job, you have to use two to get a good firm grasp around it and even then it’s still a few inches off.

You contemplate how you’re even going to fit all of him into your mouth but you think of the consequences later. You continue pumping his cock with your hands and he moans lowly under his breath. You lick the tip of his cock and he winces a little, that must be his sensitive spot. You suck on the tip and guide your mouth to slowly take in more of his cock, keeping a suction-tight grip on him as you keep lowering your head. You get to a point where you start to physically choke and gag on his cock, your saliva was getting everywhere now, all over your chin, your chest, his cock, and some even spilled on the floor. You know you have to be a good girl and take all of him but you never had someone this big before.

“You have such a nice dick,” you blurt out while taking a break, wanting to please him more than anything.

“Thank you baby,” Han smiles down at you while you bring his cock back into your mouth, this time breathing through your nose you have a better chance at taking him all. You were successful and managed to get most of it inside your mouth, maybe just a couple centimeters off. You kept at it, sucking his cock like your life literally depended on it, shooting your head back and forth making you feel dizzy.

“Mmm yeah… that’s it baby… just like that-” Han moans out for you with his eyes closed shut and head thrown back, you’re making him feel so good right now.

“I think I’m gonna cum y/n…”

You continue what you’ve been doing for the past 15 minutes or so, sucking his cock at an even faster rate. You look up at him and give him a sultry look with your eyes, you need to feel his cum all over you.

“Please cum on my face daddy,” you tell him, you used to let your ex cum on your face all the time and you were craving for that kind of thing at the moment. You keep deepthroating him and making gagging noises in the process, wanting him to know just how hard you’re working for his cum. He lets out a long moan and keeps saying he’s about to cum, you tap his dick on your tongue so you can get a taste of his load shooting out and then… you suddenly go blind. Han’s load comes out so fast that it got everywhere, causing some of it to get into your eye. You couldn’t see for a bit and rubbed your eye, feeling a thick, sticky substance on your left cheek. Han’s cum was now painted all over your face, some even got on your shoulder and landed on the floor. You smiled at how much cum you caused to come out his dick, feeling awfully proud of yourself.

You get up from your knees and start kissing again, he brings you back to the counter you were originally sitting on and he toys with the waistband of your skirt. He pulls your skirt down and begins rubbing your pussy through your underwear, dragging his fingers along your slit and teasing you. You whimper as you buck your hips up, wanting to feel his fingers on your clit. He finally moves your panties to the side and starts rubbing his middle finger against your swollen clit.

“Damn, you’re wet as fuck…” he says, looking at your glistening, wet pussy. He circles your clit and spits on it, mixing your juices with his saliva. He then dips his finger inside your hole, you let out a moan as he starts pushing his finger in and out. The sound of his fingers going in your wet pussy sound so dirty yet so blissful. He kisses you as he keeps fingering you, spreading you open with another finger. You’re such a moaning mess and it’s all thanks to Han’s wonderful fingers. You were arching your back at the sensation you were feeling, his thumb is now rubbing your clit while two of his fingers are still inside. You wanted his cock so badly, but you were going to have to ask nicely for it.

“I need you…” you whine to Han, you don’t know why you were too shy to say what you needed the most though.

“Need what baby?” He asks with his fingers still deep inside your sopping cunt, you were aching for something bigger and it’s making you go crazy.

“Your cock… need your cock, please!” You practically beg at this point for it. Han’s smile grew wider as he saw how needy you were already acting for him.

“As you wish pretty girl,” he says, taking his fingers out and licking the juices off of them one by one. He takes his cock in his hand and rubs it along your folds, he feels how soaking wet you are and it’s already enough to make him want to burst. He doesn’t think he’s a fast cummer (is that a word?) but for you, he’d nut instantly. He slides his thick, long cock into your little pussy, making you audibly gasp in pain and pleasure.

The size of him is enough to make you want to never be able to walk again, but you think once he’s done with you he’ll be leaving you permanently bed ridden.

“Just relax baby, you can take it all trust me..” Han assures you as he continues to slide his length inside, your wetness mixed with the sounds of his dick makes for the perfect porn audio. Your legs were spreading wide open and rested on his shoulders, he was taking nice and slow strokes at first. He wants you to become more adjusted to his size, he’s finally able to get all of himself in. You look down at your stomach to see a giant bulge, his cock was so big that he practically took up half of your torso.

“Ready baby?” Han whispers in your ear, asking for the okay to start thrusting deeper into you. You nod as you were finally getting used to him, he goes a little faster and starts to build a steady pace. His cock is hitting the back of your walls nicely and you feel every inch of him inside you. The cross necklace he was still wearing dangled over you, which was pretty ironic for the sinful act you two were committing at the moment. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he moves deeper into you, stretching you out like the little whore you are. You feel yourself growing wetter with each thrust and he’s grabbing your waist tightly with both hands.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good… my god..” Han says moaning, his eyes are closed again as he keeps fucking your tight pussy. You took his cock so well, you were so proud of yourself.

“Your cock feels amazing daddy,” you whimper out to him as you continue moaning his name, feeling like you’re about to cum already. Han’s breath becomes more irregular and his strokes are getting messier, you can tell he’s reaching his climax as well.

“Let’s cum together.” Han coaxes, holding your hand while fucking into you, his cock fits all the way inside without hurting you now and all you feel is immense pleasure. You nod your head in agreement with him and focus on reaching your high. A wave of ecstasy washes over you as Han hits a certain spot in you, his dick is so big that it can reach little places you never felt before, it’s an incredible feeling. Your head swings back as you feel your orgasm approaching, you let out a few curse words and catch your breath. Han feels his release coming too and quickly pulls out, he pumps his cock for a little bit with his right hand and watches his load shoot out onto your stomach. He lets out an erotic groan as he finishes off his last bit of cum and strokes his cock a little more.

“Fuck that was the best sex I’ve ever had..” Han says while panting, grabbing your face to pull into you a breathless kiss.

“Yeah, that was definitely amazing,” you respond after pulling away, smiling at his first impressions of you.

It was now midnight and you were both exhausted, you two were too fucked out to do anything else and Han was way too tired to head home that night. You didn’t mind Han staying over at your place, to be honest, it felt pretty normal. As you both got into bed he gave you tons of forehead kisses and cradled you to sleep, his embrace felt safe and protecting. You never wanted to leave his presence and neither did he.

It was the early hours of the morning and the sun is beaming on your face through the sheer white curtains. You wake up to a familiar smell coming from your kitchen, it was the smell of eggs and pancakes cooking. You put on some clothes quickly to head to your kitchen, you see Han in nothing but his underwear cooking you breakfast. You looked at the clock and saw that it was only 7:04 am, how is he already awake at this time of the morning? You make your way on over to him and give him a chaste kiss, telling him good morning. He finishes up cooking and grabs some plates for the both of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes right now, your Tinder date that you just hooked up with last night is now cooking you breakfast. You want to feel like you’re living in a dream but the more you keep blinking the more real this situation feels.

“Ready to eat babe?” Han asks, handing you a plate full of food. You nod, still trying to process everything that’s going on but you don’t want to keep questioning it. You sit at the table with Han and eat your food. You both talk as though everything is normal, still making little jokes with each other like yesterday’s date. The food he made was pretty good and you were wondering what other hidden skills he may have been hiding. You’re now questioning what could be wrong with him since he’s so perfect, why hasn’t someone like him not been snatched up yet? As you finish eating you head back upstairs, Han follows you.

“What’re you doing?” You ask him, turning around to face him in confusion.

“Im just following where you’re going,” he admits sheepishly.

“But why?” You genuinely want to know why he’s considered still being here and isn’t fleeing after finally getting what he wanted.

“I want to stay here for a while,” he says while looking away at something else, he was a bit shy to ask if he could stay over for another day.

“For how long?” You ask, wondering if he’s serious about his infatuation with you.

“I- I don’t know, can I just stay for one more night? Please y/n?” He holds your hand, gently caressing and rubbing it.

You feel conflicted, on one hand you want someone you can feel connected to on a deeper level but the other hand is making you want to keep this relationship as no strings attached. You sigh as you see the glint in his eyes, his eyes were all it took for you to give into him.

“Okay” you say, he smiles as he hears your swift response. He presses a soft kiss against your lips and lets you lead the way back to your room.

Four days have passed and Han is still staying in your apartment with you. You decided you didn’t actually hate his company and that it was just the fear of commitment that made you reluctant. Han was different though, he brought a side out of you that no one else has. He brings you flowers, makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, listens to your problems/needs/wants/desires, shuts up when he’s supposed to, and does anything you say at the drop of a hat.

He’s the perfect guy for you and you met him on something you wouldn’t have tried if it wasn’t for your best friend. You’re still in shock by how you and Han are basically in a relationship now, I mean who stays at someone’s house for almost a week if they weren’t falling in love? You should be happy yet you’re nervous, you’re nervous about telling Ryujin, what if she thinks you’re moving too fast? You didn’t tell anyone about this “relationship” yet since you’ve never rushed into things this quickly with someone.

Han was a great person and you knew that with every fiber of your being, you just didn’t know if others would see that through just a few days of talking. You know you’re going to have to do it at some point since you’re actually thinking about getting serious with him. Han has been nothing more than amazing to you and if everyone else doesn’t see that then they’re crazy, you can’t convince everyone to like him but you start to feel as though it won’t be an issue for him. You think he’ll fit in just fine with everyone in due time ♡

#han jisung x reader #han fluff #han smut #han jisung smut #han jisung fluff #han jisung x female reader #skz smut #han jisung drabbles #han jisung fanfic #skz x reader #han jisung imagines #skz x female reader #han jisung scenarios #skz drabbles #skz scenarios #stray kids x female reader #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic

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sttoru · 2 months

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER I: you finish your last lecture of the day and head to get dinner before returning to your dormitories. you stumble upon an injured figure on your way home, laying in a dimly lit alley. despite the fear in your heart, you decide to reach out towards the unknown man in need of help.

wc. 3.7k

tags. assassin!toji x female reader. sfw; fluff-ish, angst. reader's best friend oc appearance (yona). mentions of murder, blood, knives, anxiety. general warnings for all parts of the series: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's).

ten seconds. you shut down your laptop and close it. nine seconds. you put your laptop in your tote bag. eight seconds. you close your books and do the same. seven seconds. you put your coat on. six seconds. you check your phone for any messages.

five seconds. you’re thinking about what to eat once you arrive home. four seconds. you decide on a pack of noodles. three seconds. you realise that you’ve ran out of them. two seconds. you make up your mind to go to your local supermarket. one second. you stand up from your seat.

“..that’s all, students. have a nice day and i’ll see you at our next lecture.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips. you’re finally freed from the shackles of your statistics class. not like you’ve paid much attention to what your professor had been yapping about anyway. it was too boring. the daydreaming you did about your potential future boyfriend and all the cheesy romantic stuff you’d do together was all the more important.

“earth to my best friend,” your friend’s voice snaps you back into reality. you look to your side and find yourself apologising for not hearing her the first time. yona chuckles and waves her hand dismissively.

“i asked if you had any plans after the lecture,” she continues whilst scrolling through her phone. you take a peek at her screen and notice that she’s already looking up available restaurants in the area.

you’re grateful that she’s looking out for you in her own way, but you’ve already made up your mind. a pack of your favorite ramen noodles will fill you for tonight. you’re low on cash this month anyway. a fancy restaurant would have you surviving on water for the rest of the week.

“ah, i actually do. gotta go grocery shopping ‘n stuff,” you pout apologetically before buttoning up your coat. yona nods in understanding, knowing the struggles of being a college student.

“aww, all right. we’ll go next time then,” she replies with a smile.

you walk out of the building with your friend by your side, chatting about how boring the lecture was. of course, you also learn all about the recent gossip around campus. yona is practically your plug for that.

“did you hear about that one girl that allowed her boyfriend to stay with her in her dorm room for a whole month and then got snitched on by her roommate?” yona snickers, not caring if anyone around you could hear the gossip.

you raise an eyebrow in surprise. your university has strict rules about guests staying over in the dormitories. they can spend a day or two, but you’d have to sign them in. plus the resident assistants usually check the rooms for any unusual activity every other week.

to hear someone had gotten away for a whole month is quite a surprise.

“he could’ve stayed for longer if it wasn’t for the roommate snitching,” yona continues and rolls her eyes. she takes a quick snack from her bag and bites into it.

you shake your head and shrug, making sure you don’t trip and fall down the stairs whilst you’re talking, “guess the roommate got enough of the random man in their room. i mean—they pay for that room as well. not like the girl is the only one living there.”

yona nods and turns a right. you follow, your eyes scanning the busy hallways. some students are rushing between the crowd to catch their train and others are making their way to their next two hour lecture. those poor souls.

“mhm. i wouldn’t wanna live with a man i don’t know either,” yona eventually adds after swallowing the last bite of her snack, “let alone for a whole month.”

she throws the wrapper in a nearby garbage can—which is overly full already. talk about a ‘hygienic’ school.

“right,” you shiver as the thought gets put into your head. a random man living with you. . . sounds like a nightmare. you’ve heard enough stories about how dirty they can be. in both the physical and mental aspects.

after some walking - and getting annoyed by random people who block your way due to how slow they’re moving - you reach the exit of the building. yona stretches her arms and grabs her phone before turning to you.

“anyway, see you later, hun!” she enthusiastically gives you a hug. you return the affectionate gesture with a gentle smile, rubbing her back. you exchange your last words before both going your own ways.

music plays in your ears as you walk down the street. the wind blows against your face. it’s a cold day. you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to rain in a bit.

‘gotta be fast’, you think. you are not carrying an umbrella with you, so you’d have to hurry back with your groceries. your legs pick up their pace and pass all traffic as fast as they can.

it takes you quite a while to get to your destination. that’s the drawback of living in such a packed city like tokyo. there is no way to move, especially in the evening, when everyone is returning home.

you reach a crosswalk and wait for the light to turn blue. whilst you’re waiting next to a bunch of people, your eyes wander across the scenery. from the huge billboards to your right to the multiple cars to your left.

your gaze stops at one specific billboard. it’s playing some of the latest news. a recent incident had taken place just a few kilometres north from your university. three people had been found cruelly murdered in their apartments.

the definite cause of their deaths is still unknown. there wasn’t any sign of a forced entry, even when reports say that all three victims had been killed in the same way.

they speculate that the person involved must have been quite skilled—someone who’s done this multiple times before. there are absolutely zero traces of them left neither. the only reason they’re able to conclude that it is indeed a homicide, are the similar wounds left on the victims’ bodies.

another comment from the investigation team shows that there might be a survivor who’s escaped the cold blooded killer. that person is now considered missing.

the police are still thoroughly investigating the matter; that’s all you get to know before the news reporter moves on to the next subject.

you look down at your shoes. such scary stuff does make you afraid. you’re living on your own after all. you’d be less scared if you had a roommate, but you currently don’t.

some call you lucky for that since it’s a rare occurrence, yet you still wish you had someone living with you. that would make walking back home at night less stressful.

the increase of footsteps around you makes you realise that the light turned blue—a sign for you to cross the street. you eventually reach the other side. you tilt your head back, anxiously staring at the sky.

‘please don’t, please don’t, please don’t,’ you chant in your head. like the weather is going to listen to your desperate pleas. you rush inside of the supermarket.

you’ve been here often enough to know which products are in what aisle. you scurry over to the ramen, grabbing two packs. you get a few snacks along the way. unhealthy crap, that’s what you’re surviving on.

you stand in line at the cashier. you tap your shoe and bite your lip, your gaze fixated on the sky outside. you beg god to give you just a few more minutes. a few more minutes of drought.

you check your phone and go through your recent notifications to kill time. you swipe left on almost all of them—none being time sensitive or urgent anyway.

you greet the cashier politely once it’s your turn and allow him to scan your products for you. you await for him to announce your total before handing him your debit card. your eyes flicker over to the television hanging right behind the cashier’s head.

that gruesome news again. twice in a row. you shiver and try not to think about it. your mind is already overthinking the entire thing; what if you’re next?

well, that should be the least of your worries. you grab the plastic bag and walk to the exit of the supermarket, taking a deep breath. what you actually should be worried about is getting home dry.

“just my luck,” you mutter under your breath. your prayers are left unanswered as the first few drops of rain fall on your head. you kiss your teeth in annoyance.

you can’t help but silently agree as a couple walks past you, complaining about the sudden change of weather. you watch as a few more people rush past you with their bags above their head.

looking at the bright side of things, you won’t be the only one who’s running home with a bag as a shield against the rain and wind.

you take a deep breath again and mentally prepare yourself for the quick journey you’re going to make. you look to the left and then the right. when the coast is clear, you dash into the direction of your dormitory.

the rain is not letting up. you rush past a few people, those carrying umbrellas walking the slowest of them all. ‘damn them’, you think, ‘they have it the easiest right now.’

you turn a corner and nearly bump into a woman. you politely apologise before continuing your little run home. damp droplets run down your forehead. the rain is already starting to block your vision.

you tightly hug your tote bag to your chest with one arm. the last thing you want is for your laptop to get water damage. you’ve wasted tons of money on that thing to help you get through college.

you look down at the plastic bag with your food. that’ll survive. at least you think it will.

you squint. the rain is only getting worse and thus your blurry vision will as well. you try blinking the water away, but end up making it worse for yourself.

great.

your shoes are going through it. the deep puddles you’ve run through leave the material moist and you can already feel the droplets seep into your socks.

greaaat.

you turn a left. this narrow street is one you hate to be near when it’s dark. it’s a fast shortcut, but also a scary one since it’s isolated from the bustling main streets.

you think back to the cruel news you’ve heard earlier. scary images flash through your mind. your heart races a thousand miles per hour. you once again make up a doom scenario that could possibly happen.

what if the killer on the run is going after you next?

it doesn’t make sense, logically, but everything is possible now that your anxiety has overtaken your rational thoughts. you have no connections to those victims and yet you think you’re next.

you are next.

you whimper out of fear. it feels like the walls of this narrow street are closing up on you the faster you run. you look over your shoulder, excepting someone to be there—following you.

no one is there. you turn your head again and run as fast as you can. if only you had someone with you. someone who’d console you and tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

that’s the worst thing about the entire situation: nobody seems to pass by this backstreet. the only things that could possibly give you any sense of comfort are the random boxes and trash laying around.

time seems to slow down once you see the end of the backstreet. there’d actually be people once you make it through. you gulp and give yourself the motivation to get over there without scaring yourself any further.

the shadows looming over you due to the lack of lightning in this alleyway creep you out. the entire atmosphere is eerie—like something or someone can jump out of those shadows and grab you by the ankles. drag you into the darkness and finish you off there.

you want to return to those vibrant lights you know so bad. you do.

your eyes are so intensely focused on the end of the streets to the point that you forget your surroundings. it’s already too late to realise that you’re tripping over something. you process that you’ve lost your balance when you’re already mid-fall.

your body lands on the wet ground with a loud thud. luckily enough, your hands touched the concrete first, softening the fall for your head. you grunt and groan; it still hurt.

your ears pick up on the sound of running water. your head lays right next to a broken pipe that’s leaking water onto the pavement. cold droplets fall in a rushed rhythm.

“ah, fuck.”

your eyes widen. the sound of a man behind you sends a shiver down your spine. is that why you tripped? did he make you trip?

‘i’m so done,’ you conclude quietly. it’s probably the killer you’ve heard about—the one who’s coming for you next. just like you had thought.

you shut your eyes tightly, awaiting the strike that would finish you. like the wounds that had finished the other victims. though, it never comes. the stabbing doesn’t happen.

the only thing you can pick up on is heavy breathing. low grunts, barely audible. the sound of cloth ripping. a man mumbling under his breath.

you sit up on your knees and look over your shoulder. slowly, little by little.

the revealed sight is like a dream. or a nightmare. you don’t know which it is. perhaps a mixture of both.

all you know is that this is the last thing you expected to see. the last thing you expected to experience today. you feel your heart drop and you freeze in place.

you’ve seen your own fair share of blood, but this is simply too much. it’s like time has stopped for you. like time has stopped inside of this backstreet.

the world outside of this alleyway continues moving. the people keep walking, chatting and living their lives. the rain keeps falling. as if nothing is occurring at the moment.

as if there is no bloodied man on the dirty ground, leaning against the wall, with crimson stained hands clutching his abdomen. his wet bangs cover his eyes which makes his identity even more mysterious.

you probably tripped over his leg that’s stretched out in front of him; also bloody. you feel bad for not noticing him earlier. your own selfish desires to get out of this alley caused you to overlook a person in need of urgent aid.

you don’t think twice before reaching out towards him. it’s like your body moves on its own command—not waiting for your brain to figure out what to do.

“oh my god,” you’re shaking badly, but your body crawls closer to the injured figure. you don’t think twice. something you have always taught yourself to do before diving into unfamiliar situations.

not right now, however. you don’t hesitate to check up on the stranger. if you didn’t see his chest moving with each shaky breath, you’d have concluded that he’s dead.

“s-sir?” you panic. what do you do? you’ve never landed in such a predicament before. you look to your left and then to your right. no one to help you nor the bloodied man.

he doesn’t reply to your voice. that further worsens your anxiety. your eyes wander down towards the man’s abdomen. the wound was deep and painful, that much you can tell from the way he’s holding tightly onto it.

a bullet wound? you’re not sure.

right—the piece of cloth he’s keeping against the wound. that’s what you do to try and stop the bleeding. the warm red liquid stains the man’s baggy pants. his black shirt is nearly ripped to shreds, the material hanging on by a thread. literally.

“uhm, uh,” you look around and spot your bag on the floor. in a puddle. you pray that your laptop has made it. you don’t recall having anything with you that could help treat wounds.

you gulp and hastily take off your scarf. you carefully kneel in front of the half-conscious man. his head is held low. you don’t know if he can even hear you.

you reach your hand out towards him, aiming for his own bloody hands that hold onto his abdomen. you cringe due to the sight, but try your best to be of assistance.

the man hisses the moment you touch the his hand. your fingers stop mid-air, not wanting to touch him if he didn’t want to.

what am i thinking?

now is not the time for that. he’s bleeding out and you have this urge to get him to safety as soon as possible. even if you’re internally panicking because of the huge responsibility that fate has suddenly assigned you.

“i’ll call an ambulance. please hold on,” you try to be reassuring, however your choked up voice betrays your true feelings. you change the old cloth with your scarf, pressing it tightly against his injury.

you fish out your phone from your pocket using your other hand. the rain makes it hard to do anything. your screen is wet, your vision blurry. you type in the first number of the emergency services.

suddenly, a bigger hand swats yours, causing your phone to go flying to the other side of the street. you watch with wide eyes as your cellphone comes to a stop right next to a big puddle of rain.

you whip your head to the direction of the injured figure in front of you. the man tries to lifts his head, slowly, so he could look you in the eye. your heart stammers in your chest.

“sir, you’re bleeding out, you need to—“

“i don’t need anythin’.”

you don’t dare to move nor let out a single breath. you can feel the tip of a sharp blade rest under your chin—nearly penetrating the flesh. one wrong move and you will lose your life.

the man had moved too fast for you to even process. you don’t know how you even ended like this. with a bloody knife to your throat and an unknown man’s face right up against yours.

“leave,” the stranger demands. you know he’s not to be messed with, even in his weakened state, “i don’t need y’r help.”

his voice sounds rough. deep and raspy. it shakes you to your core—makes you listen to what he has to say. it’s hypnotising. a gust of wind blows over the both of you.

his bangs move and your gaze finally meets his. the background noises fade for a split second. your entire focus is on those beautiful emerald orbs staring into your own eyes. they’re gorgeous.

they're gorgeous; even if they lack that sparkle of life. his eyes tell stories—the rough journeys this man probably had to endure throughout the years. you’ve never seen such a sight. it tugs at your heartstring and urges you to help him.

you don’t know where these feelings came from, but amidst your anxiety, there’s an underlying desire to take care of him.

you shake your head, showing your unexpected defiance. you’re playing with fire. you know that all too well and yet you don’t care.

“no. i won’t leave,” your breath hitches. you notice the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes. he looks like he’s going to lose consciousness any second now. though his grip on the knife tells another story, “i won’t leave you alone. not like this.”

the injured stranger grunts in annoyance, but also in pain. your persistence makes him want to shove you to the side. to leave this place already and find a way out on his own. he doesn’t want your help.

he may actually need it, but he does not want to accept it.

despite those thoughts, he’s too weak. way too weak. he doesn’t like being weak. feeling weak is not his thing. vulnerability doesn’t suit him.

“you have a fuckin’ death wish,” the man scoffs. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto consciousness, but that is the last thing he cares about. he wants you gone. out of sight.

you stay in place. even through his chilling death threats. you can feel the blade start to invade the first layer of your skin. it hurts already. normally, you would’ve run. you want to. your mind tells you to get the hell out, but your heart and body yells at you to stay.

“i’ll give ya three seconds,” the stranger continues. he’s close. so close that you can feel his hot breath against your freezing cheeks. it’s intimidating, however not enough to scare you away.

the tighter your grip on the scarf against his abdomen, the tighter his grip on the handle of the knife. time will tell who’ll win this battle.

“three.”

the countdown starts. you swallow your own spit. the rain has you completely drenched. you catch a glimpse of the puddle underneath you both. the colour of it a light red as the man’s blood flows and mixes with the clear water.

“two.”

his voice is quieter than before. he’s losing his strength, but is stubborn enough to firmly keep the knife below your chin. you’re sure that your own blood is already trickling down the shiny metal.

the man’s lips part to announce the last number. your last chance. your final opportunity to escape and act like you have never seen him. you can go back to your normal life—continue living in your own world. the one you are familiar with.

one without this unknown man. this man with an aura of a cold hearted killer.

you fingers curl tightly against the scarf pressed against his wound. you refuse to let up. even if it means your own death. your eyes close—cold damp droplets roll down your cheeks. you don’t know if they’re your tears or if it’s just the pouring rain.

you hear a low, frustrated groan. he sounds so close yet so far from you. you can feel the man’s arm move to adjust his grip. probably to try and flawlessly puncture your jaw.

if only you accepted to eat out with your friend. if only you turned around and went back to your dorm the moment you knew it was going to rain. if only you didn’t take this shortcut today.

if only your fates hadn’t clashed.

“one.”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk x y/n #toji x you #please give it lots of love 🙇🏽‍♀️

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