#because companies are making it clear you don’t actually own the things you have | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

haetrack · 6 months ago

Text

pro: love: add

hacker!haechan x afab!reader

wc: 11.6k

warnings: smut, little plot, they are PERVERTS, slight invasion of privacy, esex, masturbation, praising, degradation, overstimulation, edging, sex meetup, oral, unprotected sex (NO!), switch!haechan, switch!reader, mentions of panty sniffing, breeding, fleshlight, this is all very unrealistic and i also know nothing about hackers thank u (also this represents haechan in no way)

a/n: HAPPY BDAY TO MY SPARKLY PRINCESS!!! this is the best guy ever... hope everyone enjoys my little present :3

if you asked him how he became a member of an underground maybe-not-so-ethical kinda-not-really mafia group, he wouldn’t know what to say.

when he was younger, he took interest in the technology around him. because of this interest, he finds himself in front of his laptop, quickly hacking into some random company’s firewall for his boss. he doesn’t mess with anything else, grabbing some information of a person he doesn’t know to send off.

he puts all the information about the man in a well protected folder and sends it off. that’s really all he does. he’s someone who works behind the scenes, unlike his other group members who have a more up close hand in everything. he wouldn’t want to either way, finding the solidarity and animosity in his room to be just right.

it was easy for haechan to get used to this lifestyle. he never really had too many people to talk to before, so now he gets to make easy money in the comfort of his home without talking a lot. he can do everything in his apartment without having to go out much, either.

he yawns before closing all the windows on his screen. he’s done all the work he was assigned today, but he doesn’t know what he wants to do next. he takes his glasses off his face, hand moving to rub at his eyes before he slumps against his gaming chair. his hands fall to his lap, one of his thumbs massaging the soft skin of his inner thigh.

he smirks to himself, quickly acting on impulse as he moves to palm the front of his shorts. his cock twitches at the touch as he sighs contently at the feeling. his head rolls back against his seat, shutting his eyes as he gets hard. he bites his lip, his hand moves to slide under the waistband of his shorts and boxers-

he’s cut off by his phone buzzing loudly at the corner of the desk. he debates on not answering, but when he brings his phone close to his face, he curses. he sits up a bit before sliding his glasses back on, grumbling to himself as he answers the phone.

“what do you want, mark?”

“all i did was call you and you’re already mad,” mark huffs.

haechan rolls his eyes, “please hurry up and tell me why you called me.”

he can hear mark clear his throat, “johnny’s asking if you’ve sent that information he needs.”

haechan can feel his own mood turning sour. his tongue pokes at his cheek, “you can tell johnny that he can ask me that himself.”

it’s silent for a few moments on the other side of the call. haechan wants to scream at mark for taking so long when he could be doing other things. he feels his blood turn cold when he hears johnny’s voice, “hey, haechan? i need you to send those files before i make sure that your pay gets cut.”

“y-yeah, sorry! i just sent them a bit ago. please don’t reduce my pay, i might actually die.”

johnny laughs lightly, haechan sighing in relief at the sound, “i wouldn’t do that to you. you’re lucky that you’re funny.”

haechan cries out a thank you to him, causing the other two to laugh. he waits for them to calm down before beginning, “let me know if you need anything else. i have to go, i was a little busy before you called.”

mark’s voice sounds from the call, “doing?”

johnny interrupts, “probably something nasty.”

“no! why do you always say that?”

“what else should i expect from a guy who does shit with his computer and stays inside all day?”

haechan groans, “whatever. i’m hanging up.”

haechan is quick to turn his phone on silent before throwing it somewhere on his bed. he isn’t hard anymore, but now he’s too desperate to just ignore it. he opens a private screen on his computer before scrolling for a bit. he doesn’t want to watch porn, doesn’t want to read it, but there’s something he wants to try.

he’s heard through small forums of this website that allows you to chat with an online service that adjusts to your preferences automatically. he finds it after some time, hands slightly shaky as he presses on the link. it’s a nice looking website, stating some information before he can actually get into it. he wonders what mechanisms were used to make it. he can’t help it.

he skims through the information before clicking the start button. he’s met with the sight of an anime-looking girl, one that he’d find on hentai. the voice calls out to him, what would you like to do with me tonight?

he’s quick to type out, ive been so busy. just need someone to take care of me.

the character on the screen leans forward more, exposing more of her chest. haechan bites his lip at the sight, her voice calling out again, yeah? want me to take care of you? make you feel nice and good?

he responds with a yes, quickly shimmying out of his shorts as his cock strains in his boxers. it’s not often that he gets to talk like this with someone, even if this someone isn’t real. he’s too horny to care, not when he’s already been denied once. the character smiles at his response, groping at its chest. haechan watches closely, eyes hooded as he once again palms himself.

it must be so hard for you, right? the character says, getting bossed around all day when all you wanna do is get taken care of. i’ll do anything you want me to.

there’s a voice-to-chat option, but haechan isn’t really sure he wants to do that for his own privacy. he’ll manage to type with one hand while his other grips around his clothed length. make yourself feel good w me, want u 2 tell me when to cum.

the character agrees quickly, the screen pushing back to get its whole body in frame. it’s clad in only panties, smiling at him before speaking, are you gonna touch yourself for me? let me see how big your cock is?

he slides his boxers down just enough to get his length out. it slaps against his stomach, leaking at the tip. he didn’t realize how needy he was until now, easily wrapping his fist around his length. it’s easy for him to give in, the character’s words drifting to his ear, causing small whines to fill the air.

he tunes it all out eventually (not counting when he gets praised). he can’t stop thinking about how bad he wants to do this with someone in real life. he always says it’s because he’s too busy with his job, but he knows he can’t keep lying to himself. he pretends that sweet voice that’s calling out to him is someone real, sitting right on top of him as he gets whispered praises.

his hand wraps around his cock tighter at the thought, his hips bucking up into his fist. he licks his lips as his other hand trails up his hand, his fingers brushing over his nipple. quiet whimpers fill the air, and there’s nothing he wants more than to moan out someone’s name.

he could give everything to someone. he’d be so obsessed, practically at their beck and call. he just needs to put all this energy and desperation he has somewhere. he isn’t a loser, isn’t gross, but it’s hard to deny it all when he’s getting off to a character calling him sweet and coaxing him to an orgasm.

he bites down on his lip to stop the pathetic moan that tries to slip out. he’s not typing anymore, listening in to what the voice is telling him to do. speed up, show me how bad you need it, and all haechan can do is obey and fuck his fist faster.

sobs sound throughout his room as his fist tightens around his tip, his thumb teasing at it. he no longer cares about how loud he’s being, no longer cares about denying how pathetic he looks right now. all he wants to do is cum, wants someone to come over so he can stuff all of his cum inside of a warm pussy.

it doesn’t take much longer, cum spurting all over his fist as he pinches at his nipples, loud whimpers slipping out of him. his ears are ringing, the voice speaking to him inaudible as he rides out his high. his hips twitch when he tries to overstimulate himself, a breathy laugh slipping out of his mouth.

the character looks fucked out, cheeks red as if it came down from its own orgasm. there’s a small smirk on its face, thanking him for everything, telling him just how good he’s been. haechan lays back onto his chair, heavy breaths beginning to even out. it’s when he hears the voice speak up again:

thanks for being such a good boy, lee donghyuck.

haechan’s heart stops. what did it just say?

it was easy getting all of his information.

you don’t really tap into the chats happening on your website, but this one piqued your interest. the fake name put in sounded too familiar, something you're sure you’ve heard before. you can’t miss out on this opportunity of possibly getting to see one of the most renowned hackers.

when you dig a little deeper, you’re met with some information about him. you’d think for a hacker, he’d be a little more protective about his information. it’s all laid out in front of you, almost as if he were begging for someone- for you to find it.

you can’t help but fuck with him a little. you make the character that he’s talking to call him by his real name. that’s all you were gonna do, really, besides look over his chat (to which you find out he likes being called a good boy). you know what he’s capable of, and if this is really him, you don’t want anything to happen to you.

except, you don’t really take into account how good he is at what he does, and you’re quick to get a call from someone you don’t know. you ignore it, obviously, given the circumstance you’re in. you should block the number seeing how you’re being spammed with calls, but you can’t get yourself to. you want to see how far this can go, to see if it’s really him, and just to make fun of him a little.

after what seems like the twentieth call, you finally pick up. it sounded like he was hyperventilating for a moment, but you assume he saw that you actually answered with how quiet he got. you don’t want to talk first, none of this is really your fault. you can hear him suck in a breath before he speaks, “who are you and what did you just do?”

“well, if you got my number, i’m assuming you already know who i am.”

he’s mumbling to himself in words you can’t hear. you should be scared, but knowing he just got off on your website makes this whole thing funnier. he can’t exactly report you, either. he would have to prove how he got your number when he doesn’t even know you.

“what made you even look into my conversation?” he pauses for a bit, probably recounting the whole chat, “i wasn’t even doing anything wrong?”

“your username seemed pretty familiar to me. sounded like something i’ve definitely heard before.” you pause, letting your words sit in the air. you can hear his breath pick up, trying to pull himself together at the possible thought of being caught. you start again, “are you… 6sunfull?”

he doesn’t speak. you don’t need him to say that he is, the silence tells you everything you need to know. you speak again, “you know, for being such a good hacker, you kinda suck at hiding your information.”

“how did you even find it? if it’s how i’m thinking, then that’s like, a total invasion of my privacy!”

you laugh, “that’s crazy coming from you. isn’t your whole job all about invading other people’s privacy?”

“it’s different!” he lets out an exasperated noise, “you run a porn website, think about your customers privacy!”

you splutter out a laugh, “look, i’m not gonna report you or anything. i just think it’s funny that someone like you was begging to be taken care of.”

“how do you even know that i’m that hacker? what if i’m just a random person getting my info taken away from me?”

“one, you got my number out of nowhere. two, you knew how i got your information. you’re used to this. plus, your birthday was basically in your username.”

an annoyed sound comes from his side of the call, “all i used was a six! whatever. i don’t want to talk about this anymore. do whatever with that information.” he quickly hangs up afterwards. you can’t blame him, you would probably try to run away from this, too. he didn’t ask you to block his number either, which tells you should let him take his time.

after all, he sounded too cute to let go.

a few days pass and you haven’t heard from him.

you’ve been trying to pretend like you don’t want to text him or you don’t want him to call you, but it’s been hard. he hasn’t been back on your website, hasn’t shown any sign of thinking about you. you’re not sure why you’re so invested, but knowing that you might be one of the only people who knows who he is helps.

but today, you get a text from the same unknown number from the other night.

unknown: you’re not going to report me to the police or anything… right

you: why would i do that

knowing that he’s on his phone, you’re quick to press the call button. it rings a few times before he decides to answer, a smile beginning to form on your face. you want to start talking, but he decides he wants to speak first, “i will send you whatever amount of money you want if you don’t snitch.”

“who says snitch anymore? and it’s too embarrassing for me to go to a police station and tell them i found a hacker who was on my pornsite.”

by the tone of his voice, you can tell he’s embarrassed, “thanks, i guess…”

“you do owe me, though. for not ratting you out.”

“what do you want me to do?”

you know exactly what you want, “just for you to talk to me. i’m giving you the chance to talk to someone, donghyuck.”

you can hear him scoff on the other side, “who says i don’t talk to anyone? and don’t call me that, it’s weird. just call me haechan.”

ignoring him, you continue, “just trying to be nice. maybe next time you won’t have to use my website and instead you can just text me.”

“what?”

“only a suggestion. you don’t have to, but i’m just putting it out there. if you’re that desperate to use a pornbot, you can just use me instead.”

the words you said the other day were only meant to tease haechan.

after you finished speaking, you could hear him choke on his own breath, trying to calm himself down. you laughed it off, but you didn’t realize how much it impacted him. you played it off as a joke, trying to move on before he could think about it any further. he said he had other things to do, trying to hang up before you could continue. you hope you didn’t take anything too far.

you realize why he wanted to hang up so quickly when you’re met with a call late in the evening. lazily answering the call, you greet haechan. there’s silence on the other side of the call. you wait for him to speak, but you’re met with an airy groan as a response. your heart stops beating for a bit, and you quietly ask, “what’s wrong?”

when he speaks, it’s pitchy and breathy all at the same time, “t-thought you said… thought you said you could help me…”

did you really mean it? when you said you wanted to see how far this could go, you didn’t mean it like this. you start to mull over your options, but at your silence, you can hear the slick noise of haechan fucking his fist. the thought makes your body heat up, any thoughts you had were thrown out the window. how desperate is he to do it so openly in front of you?

it’s like he already knows that you would agree. he lets out a hushed whimper that almost sounds like your name, and you can’t help how your thighs squeeze together. you bite your lip, imagining how exactly he might look right now. you wonder why he decided to call you up, someone who’s practically a stranger, instead of someone else.

you give in out of pure curiosity, only wanting to know more about what made haechan come to you. out of the few conversations you had, he wants you to help get him off, he wants to hear your voice telling him to cum. it’s why you ask, “are you going to tell me what you’re doing right now?”

“i’m… i was thinking about what you said to me. thought about what you would say to me, how you might sound… wanted to hear your pretty voice.”

you move to your bed, laying against the headboard as you get comfortable. you slide down your shorts, squeezing your thighs once more. you can feel how uncomfortably wet you are, feeling how you clench around nothing at the sound of haechan whining.

you try to stop your voice from being so shaky before you speak, “aren’t you embarrassed? moaning like this in front of a stranger?”

you can hear the sound of him fucking his fist faster, “d-don’t care. you’ve already seen how i’m like, spying on me and all… you probably like this, too.”

you scoff into the mic, but he’s right. he’s being so shameless, but you can’t help but feed into it. you do want to make him hold out though. you want to see him beg, just like he was on the chat. just this once, you’ll give into him. you breathe out, “you just need my help, hm? just need me to take care of you and make you cum?”

he’s moaning, obviously too horny to care about how loud he’s being. he laughs a little at how your teasing him for his messages, “wanna see you cum, too. please cum with me.”

you hum, “don’t know if you deserve it, you were getting off without me.”

“please? wanna hear you and how wet your pussy is.”

you can’t help but whimper at his words, causing haechan to moan louder than you. your hand slides down over your panties, teasing yourself while haechan continues to get off on the call.

he picks up on how quiet you’re being, choosing to take over, “you’re touching yourself, too, right? stopped teasing me so much so you can touch your pretty pussy?”

you hate how much his words get to you, trying to hide your noises by biting down on your lip. he’s not even trying to be mean, he’s just rambling, saying all the thoughts he has out loud for you to hear.

“would you be mad if i said i looked up what you look like? just wanted- wanted to see how you looked like. it’s not fair that you already know how i look.”

you moan out, your fingers circling your clothed clit at his words. you don’t care about how obvious you’re being anymore, not caring how haechan could probably hear how desperate you are. if anything, the groan he lets out tells you everything you need to know.

his voice is whiny, “wanna see you, w-wanna see you cum. are you gonna cum, too? wanna see it… can i please facetime you, i just- i’m so close.”

“fuck… are you sure? aren’t you worried that-”

“no, i don’t care. promise, just need to see you. i’m gonna cum without you if you keep on-”

you hang up the call before he can finish his sentence, a smile forming on your face as a minute passes by. you quickly facetime him, greeted by the sight of the upper part of haechan’s face. his bangs brush over his eyes, which widen in shock when he realizes you called back. his head tilts back into his gaming chair, a moan slipping out at the sight of you smiling at him.

you laugh, “are you gonna let me see all of you?”

he blinks back at you, shyness seemingly taking over him, “i-i thought you didn’t wanna talk to me so i kinda… let myself cum.”

you let out an astounded laugh at his words, watching as he props his phone on his desk, showing you the mess he made. his shirt was lifted enough for all his cum to miss it, shorts tugged down as if he was rushing to touch himself. his cheeks are flushed, biting his lip as he shyly watches your reaction. you tilt your head, “do you think you can cum again?”

“only if i get to see you,” he pushes the hair out of his eyes so he can see you better. he can’t look away once you set your phone against your pillow, letting haechan drink in the sight of you. it’s almost embarrassing for you as he lets out a loud whine when he sees that you’re only wearing an oversized shirt and your panties. he pants, “you look so much better like this, needed more than just your voice.”

“yeah?” you slip a hand between your thighs, “nothing’s ever enough for you, right?”

you watch as he swipes his fingers through the cum on his stomach before wrapping his hand around his length, his hips twitching at the feeling. he’s trying to hold back his moans, trying to fight through the overstimulation as he starts moving his fist. his eyes watch you with intent, just waiting to see what you do next. “slow down if you wanna cum with me,” you sigh, “you’re gonna cum without me again.”

“yeah, sorry, just-” he hesitantly pulls his hand away from his cock, choosing to run it over his stomach. his hand pushes his shirt up, brushing his fingers over his nipples as he lets out a small whine. his eyes focus on you again, “you just look so good right now, can’t help myself.”

“really?” you ask, hand slipping under your panties to rub at your clit. you swallow down a moan, “all you wanna do is stuff me full of your cock, hm? take care of me, too?”

“yes, please. wanna do it so fucking bad. wanna fuck you full of my cum.” his eyes flutter shut, the thought being too much for him to handle. his eyes shoot open when he hears a choked whimper come out of you, realizing that you pulled your panties aside for him to see. even though it’s dark in your room, he’ll take anything he can get.

“isn’t that too much to ask from a person you barely know?”

“d-don’t act like you don’t like it. you’re just as bad as me, getting yourself off to a stranger.”

you clench at his words before giving in and teasing a finger into your cunt. all you can think about is him, the sounds of his moans and how hard his fucking his hand surrounds you. he can’t help it either, eyes glued on how your finger slides in and out of you. he debates on turning his volume all the way up when he swears he can hear how wet you are.

you slip a second finger inside, moaning at the feeling. hearing haechan whimper, your eyes focus on the screen, watching as his hand tightens around his base, stopping himself from cumming right away. you let out a shaky sigh, calming yourself down before speaking, “i’m almost gonna cum, too, just wait for me.”

“i just wanna-” his fist wraps around his tip, hips fucking into the tight space, “wanna do it for you. wanna finger you, wanna fuck you, wanna eat you out. i can do whatever you want.”

your palm rubs against your clit, your thighs beginning to shake. he sounds so desperate, just from seeing you like this. even though you’re a stranger, he can’t help but want you. everything about him screams that he’s a gross pervert, but that only draws you in more. he might just bring out the worst in you.

“you’ll let me play with you, too, right? let you fuck my mouth, let me touch you how ever i want? let everyone know that you’re mine?”

he nods quickly, moans of your name spilling out of his mouth as he tells you he’s about to cum. you feel the same, one of your hands sneaking up to pinch at your nipple. haechan’s eyes struggle to stay open, watching you get yourself off just because of him. he’s the one making you feel good, all through the sight of him and his words.

“fuck, can you show me your tits? wanna- wish i could cum all over them.”

you pull up your shirt to expose your chest, haechan cumming for the second time this night at the sight of you on display for him. his hand pinches at his nipple, matching your movements as he rides out his orgasm. you follow right after, cumming at the sight of him looking so fucked out.

haechan tries to catch his breath again, letting out a breathy laugh, “god… i should’ve taken a screenshot.”

your post-orgasm haze is ruined by his words, “why can’t you be normal and just ask for a nude later?”

“isn’t it more romantic knowing that i wanted to capture something so beautiful in the heat of the moment?”

you frown at him, watching as he pulls a tissue from his desk, wiping off the cum on his chest, “knowing you have tissues on your desk tells me that you know nothing about being romantic.”

a pout forms on his face, trying to make himself look more presentable as if he didn’t just cum right in front of you. you can’t deny that he doesn’t look good, and now that he brings his phone closer to his face, you can see just how good he looks. there’s a few moles adorning his face, tying all of his pretty features together.

he notices you staring for too long, smirking a bit, “you can’t be mean to a stranger like that! you’ll help me learn to be a little more romantic, right?”

as much as you want to say no, you’re forced to agree when you see the hopeful look in his eyes.

you’ve been talking to haechan a lot more.

he’s been telling you his interests other than coding and hacking. he lets you in on his day to day life, even when all he’s done was work. you think it’s cute how he calls you for things other than sex. you’ve gotten texts from him asking what he should eat for lunch, calls ranting about an episode from a show he’s watching. you like that he’s trying to get close to you.

you wonder if he’s ever had someone to talk to like this. even though he told you he talks to his coworkers, there’s only so much you can talk about with people you work with. especially if it’s for an underground-basically-illegal business. you try not to think about it too much, especially with how happy haechan gets when he has a chance to talk to you.

today he called you while you were in the middle of fixing a bug that was reported on your website. he didn’t text you early that morning, and you didn’t want to bother him assuming that he was busy. you weren’t expecting his call, but you welcome it.

“why are you calling me at the grocery store?”

he laughs as if it’s the most normal thing, “people call at the grocery store, it’s normal. plus, i was feeling a little lonely. who else would i have called?”

“fine. right now i’m trying to see what’s wrong with my code. someone reported today that there was something wrong with my website.”

“those poor people.”

“haechan, you were one of those ‘poor people.’”

he brushes you off, saying that he’s better than all of them now that he has you. he tells you that he’s getting a few things to make lunch for himself later. he was busy with work earlier, but he can’t tell you exactly what he was doing, not right now. it’s easy to forget that everything he does is supposed to be a secret, even from you.

“so, you’re gonna cook? you don’t seem like a good cook.”

“hey! i am a very good cook, you just have to trust me. i just needed to pick up a few things.”

you halfheartedly scan through the lines of code, not in any rush to fix anything. it wasn’t that important, not when the thought of haechan looking domestic seems to get stuck in your head. “yeah?” you hum, “wish i was there with you, wish i could try some.”

the laugh he lets out causes you to smile, not being able to fight off the effect he has on you. there’s a part of you that really does want to see him. how he might lean over the stove, his shoulders on display for you as you watch from behind. you lose your train of thought, hearing haechan grumble about them not having the right product.

“you know, if i was there, watching you cook, i wouldn’t be able to help myself.”

you can hear how his mumbling abruptly stops, catching onto the meaning of your words. if only you had facetimed him, you would’ve been able to see his face. he wouldn’t be able to hide behind his screen like he is now. you start again, “wish i could hug you from behind, maybe kiss your neck a bit if you’d let me.”

he whispers into his phone as if other people can hear you, “you’re gonna tell me this while i’m in the produce section? please calm down.”

you let out a light chuckle, “as if you don’t like it.”

“why are you trying to get me hard in a grocery store? you need to be normal.”

you shrug, forgetting that he can’t see you, “it’s your fault you take everything i say seriously.”

it’s quiet again, and you assume haechan is trying to calm himself down. you can’t help but continue, “i hope when you cook, all you can think about is my hands all over you, especially where you need me the most.”

he speaks up again, soft, just for you to hear, “say one more thing and i’ll have to jerk off in the store’s restroom.”

laughter slips out of you, unable to keep yourself serious at the thought, “in the store’s bathroom? you really are a gross pervert!”

“stop! you are, too! you like seeing me be like this!”

you can’t deny it, so you let out a dreamy sigh, “you can just show me later, instead.”

and who is he to say no to you?

you always knew that haechan had a dirty mouth.

in all of the calls you both shared together, he always managed to say something that would catch you off guard. days where he wants to fill you up with his cum, days where all he wants is for you to call him a needy slut, other days where he threatens to buy a fleshlight if he can’t fuck you soon. this is who haechan is as a person, and you find yourself following his ways.

today, though, he really can’t stop talking.

he must’ve been worked up, trying to start the call as normal as one can before he eventually breaks down. in his own words, all he wants to do is “be smothered by your pussy.” as much as you want to cringe at his words, you can’t help the way your body heats up at the thought of him only thinking about you.

“fuck, just wanna taste.”

his eyes are zeroed into how wet you are, how all he can hear is the squelch of your pussy through his headphones. all he wants for you to do is shove your fingers in his mouth, letting him get a taste of how sweet you are. “please, i could make you feel so good. i just know you taste so good, smell so good, too.”

you let out a weak moan of his name, your body needing nothing more than for him to take care of you. his eyes are dazed, watching how his hips fuck into his fist just from the sight of you. you think he might just be a little bit obsessed with you, memorizing all the points of your body just from his phone.

“i wouldn’t stop eating you out until you’re begging me. wanna feel you pull at my hair and push me away. just need it so bad, need you so bad.”

“y-yeah?” you breathe, “do i need to send you some panties in the mail? p-perverts like you like that, right?”

he lets out a fuck, gripping at his base. through the low light and the slight grain on his phone, you can see pearly cum leak out of his tip, watching him willingly ruin his own orgasm. his whole body is shivering, and even in the darkness you can see how his cheeks are pink. there’s shock written on your face, and he just lazily smirks at you, “only wanna cum good if you’re feeling good with me.”

“then show me how good i should be feeling.”

he’s quick to continue his ministrations, curses leaving his mouth as he fucks through the overstimulation, whimpers filling the air. you swear you can see a few tears leave his eyes, his back arching up for your touch, wishing that you could just reach through the screen.

“j-just wanna,” a moan cuts him off, “wanna show everyone you’re mine. wanna mark you, wanna fuck you full of my cum.”

“wanna show me off? let everyone know just how good you fuck me?”

his free hand begins pinching at his nipple, causing his hips to stutter a bit, “of course. i’d record us, watch every single time i miss you. i’d post it to your website, too. make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.”

“all they’re gonna see is how good i can fuck you, watch how i can make you all fucked out.”

“wan’ it, want it so bad.”

“you always say that you’re gonna be the one fucking me, but that’s my job, right? you’d let me use you like a little toy? taking everything i give to you?” your own movements speed up as you watch him fall apart at your words. you can’t imagine how he’d be in real life if he’s acting like this over a call.

“fuck yes. all i wanna be is yours, i’ll do whatever you ask me to.”

you can tell he’s close, hand speeding up over his cock as he writhes around in his seat. you can hear all of the sounds he’s making, wanting nothing more than to cum at the thought of you two together. however, you cut through his thoughts, “then will you stop touching yourself?”

he’s shocked when he hears you, hooded eyes looking back at yours. his hand stops moving, but he still has a tight grip on his length. a little breathlessly, he asks, “what? i- i can’t…”

you cock your head to the side, “you just said you’d do anything i ask you to do though?”

“does it have to be now? c-can’t it be next time?”

you shrug, “i’ll do whatever you want next time if you do this for me now.”

he immediately rips his hand away from his cock, placing both hands onto his thigh. you scoot back a bit on your bed, showing off the rest of your body to him. you watch his cock twitch just from the sight of you, his hands itching to make himself feel good.

your fingers circle your clit, head tilting back at the feeling. “sometimes, you just have to slow down a bit. take a real look at what’s in front of you, y’know?”

you know he’s not really paying attention when he’s slow to nod. you watch as his cock helplessly twitches on his abdomen, begging to be touched by him, to be touched by you. with how wet you are, you can slide in two fingers easily, moaning out his name. he looks so desperate, almost willing to beg for anything. “won’t you tell me how good i look?”

he runs his hands up and down his thighs, his blunt nails digging into his skin. you wanna laugh at how his cock jumps with the slight pain, haechan trying to hide the whimper he lets out. he heaves out, “l-look so good… i know you’d look even better filled up with my cum…”

you pout, “are you saying i don’t look that good right now?”

“no! i’m fighting the urge to not cum untouched just from watching you.”

you moan at the thought, your back arching up as your hips roll into your hand. your eyes focus on him, “you better hurry and touch yourself before i cum all by myself.”

he’s quick to obey, hand wrapping around his cock and setting a quick rhythm. he’s louder than you, whines and whimpers of your name being the only thing leaving his mouth. “think ‘m gonna cum… please, want you to cum with me!”

“y-yes! haechan, i’m cumming!”

your mind goes blank as you come undone, body tightening in on itself as you clench around your fingers. through blurry eyes, you can see haechan with his head thrown back, cum spurting all over his chest as he moans out your name. you think he looks the best like this, the only thing on his mind being you.

it’s quiet for a few minutes after you both come down from your highs. you’re laid down onto your bed while haechan is slumped in his gaming chair. you don’t bother to get up, enjoying the presence of haechan, even through the phone.

the silence is cut off by haechan, “i really need to get you back for edging me. do you know how mean that is?”

“i personally really liked it. i should’ve taken a screenshot of how desperate you looked. i would’ve made it my wallpaper.”

“if you say it like that, then… i wouldn’t mind. everyone would see how obsessed i am with you.”

you watch as haechan contemplates his next words, and he looks a little too serious for you to be comfortable. you want to ask if something is wrong, but he beats you to it, “did you really mean it when you said that you would send your panties to me?”

you glare at him, “in what world would i want to do that? you are so gross.”

he coos at you, “you like it though.”

“i’d only want you to see them in person. you can keep them and do whatever gross thing you want with them then.”

“are you serious about meeting in person?”

you think about it for a few moments. as much as you’d want to, there are a few things you’re worried about. even though you’ve revealed so much to him, you’re not sure how you feel about inviting him over to your place yet. you let out a small laugh, “you could just look up my address.”

“i wouldn’t do that. not to you.”

his words make you a little shy, despite the meaning behind them. for haechan, these words are tender, keeping a part of his life away from you. he wouldn’t hurt you like that. it brings you relief, and it only makes it harder for you to hide the feelings that begin to grow inside of you.

you both think about what options you have. there’s only so much desire you can hold back before the urge to really meet him takes over. you throw an idea out, “how about we both meet at a selected place?”

“like a hotel?”

your eyes shine at his suggestion, “exactly! i forget how smart you are.”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheeks, “only for you, baby.”

you threaten to end the call because of the pet name.

(he begs for you to stay on call with him.)

(you say yes.)

you spend the next few weeks planning out a trip where you can both meet.

the both of you figure out a place that’s convenient for the both of you, some kind of middle point where you can choose a hotel. haechan says he can pay for it all, willing to splurge a little more if it’s for you. it’s easy for you to agree, not willing to argue with a man who probably has way more money than he lets on.

there’s a lot of things that you’re nervous about when you start packing for the trip. you hope haechan is as nice as he lets on in person. you could end up not liking him by the end of this trip. what if he doesn’t like you? what if you do something weird and he doesn’t like you anymore?

it dawns upon you that he’s haechan.

all of the days leading up to this, where you both talk for as long as you can, it’s obvious how much he likes you. he spends a lot of his free time with you, even if he’s doing something else. it’s safe for you to say that you feel the same way. you can only hope that this trip shows the feelings that have been building up.

it’s really nothing that you should be worried about. as the days lead up, you both talk about how excited you are. haechan says as soon as he gets you alone, he’ll be pressing you against the wall, kissing you until you beg him to do something. you say that that will most likely not be happening, but you like his confidence anyways.

the actual traveling day isn’t so bad. you don’t have to wake up too early, and you already prepared everything you need from the night before. you recount everything you need to do before heading out, letting haechan know that you’re already on the way. he’s quick to respond, telling you that he beat you by already leaving his house before you. you thumbs down his text.

after a few hours of traveling, you make it to the hotel. a grimace forms on your face when you see the fancy-looking hotel, wondering just how much haechan paid for the both of you. you arrive a bit earlier than scheduled, but it’s not too crowded in the lobby, so you sit down before texting haechan.

you: i just got here

you: are you close or

haechan: im nearby so u can just wait for me

haechan: literally gonna shit my pants when i see u

you quietly laugh at his text before reacting to it with a thumbs down. you scroll through your phone for a few minutes as you try to calm your heart down. you’re not really paying attention to the screen, moreso trying to convince other people that you’re not currently trying not to die from nervousness.

it’s ten times worse when he texts you that he made it to the hotel. you shut off your phone, grabbing your bags before standing up. your eyes are focused on the entrance, biting your lip with every moment that passes.

you let out a breath when he walks in, relaxing at the sight of haechan walking in. he looks equally as nervous as you did, eyes nervously flicking across the lobby. it’s when he hears you calling his name that he looks at you, a small smile painting his face.

any worries that you had from before fade away as you walk towards him, a grin on your face as you drop your bags to hug him. he jumps a little in your hold, his arms hesitating slightly when he hugs you back. it’s weird to be able to feel him after so long, you never would’ve expected this to happen.

“haechan,” you breathe out, “i’m so glad you got here.”

he holds you a little tighter, “me too. i… i can’t believe you’re actually real…”

you laugh at his comment, noticing something different, “i didn’t know you wear glasses?”

“stop, it’s embarrassing…” he mutters shyly, “just wanted to make sure i can see you good.”

you pull away from him, asking if he’s ready to check in now that he’s here. you make it over to the front desk. the person at the desk is subtly trying to text on their phone, quickly turning it off and around once you clear your throat. they smile, “how can i help you?”

you let them know that you’re checking into a room for two people. once you get asked for the payment, haechan fishes around for his card somewhere in his bag. it takes a few moments, the receptionist staring at you two. it’s almost as if they can see how this is your first time meeting each other.

you focus on the polaroid on the back of their phone, a picture of them with a man with a bright smile and dark hair. you break away once they give you the room keys, “let me know if you need anything else.”

you thank them before grabbing everything, heading to the elevator. no one speaks when you two enter, no one else in the elevator but the both of you. you can see haechan’s fingers twitch at his sides before choosing to wrap an arm around you. a small laugh leaves you, easily leaning into his side, pressing a small kiss to the skin of his neck. you laugh harder when he shakes at the feeling.

he pulls away from you once you make it to your floor. your body is buzzing every second you’re apart from him, wondering why he isn’t all over you like he said he’d be. his hand is shaking when he messes with the key, opening the door and stumbling in.

the room is big, one large bed for the both of you. haechan laughs as you drop your bags to plop yourself into bed. you look back at him expectantly, watching as he cautiously puts his bags down and sits next to you in bed. you place your hand on his thigh to pull yourself up close to his face, your noses almost touching.

you can hear his breath hitch, how his eyes move to look at your lips, a faint blush forming on his cheeks. you cock your head to the side, “don’t you wanna kiss me? like you said you would?”

he licks his lips, “i… will you- will you let me?”

you do it for him. you press your lips against his, leaning into his body. his hand moves to hold your waist, gripping too tightly before he decides to hover his hand over your side. the kisses are slow at first, getting used to each other. his lips are soft against yours, his hand deciding to move up to cup your face instead.

haechan gains a bit more confidence as he moves his lips faster against yours. he’s quick to whine against your mouth, tongue licking against your lips. it’s almost embarrassing how fast you are to give into him, feeding into his desperation. you can feel how his hand feels clammy against your face, your hand moving to intertwine with his.

when you pull away to catch your breath, you laugh at how his glasses have fogged up. he whines in embarrassment, moving to sit himself against the headboard of the bed. he spreads his legs a bit, inviting you to sit on his thighs. you crawl over to him, an innocent smile on your face as he watches your every movement.

as you place yourself on his thighs, you look down on him, his pretty eyes looking up to yours. your hand places itself on his cheek, tracing along the moles that you always found yourself staring at. he leans into your touch, mumbling more to himself, “i never thought i’d get to have you like this…”

“we have all the time in the world now,” you lean down to give him a peck on his lips, “we can do anything we want.”

his hands are hesitant when they hold you by your waist, bringing your body closer to his. he sits you right on top of his bulge, feeling how he’s already hard from just some kissing. you giggle to yourself, letting your chest press against his as you kiss him again. one of his hands slip under your shirt, hand warming the skin at your side.

his hips begin to shift under yours, his hand trailing higher and higher before it stops at the cup of your bra. he pulls away from you a bit, his hooded eyes and puffy lips letting you know what he wants. you nod at him before kissing him, his hand moving to cup your chest. his other hand joins, both hands now groping at your covered chest.

he licks into your mouth, hands moving harder against you. you can feel his cock poking against your thigh, smiling into the kiss. your hand slips under the waistband of his sweats and boxers, touching his leaking tip. his whole body has a reaction, head tilting back as he lets out a moan. he tries to swat away your hand, and you try to argue, “i wanna make you feel good, too.”

“b-but i’ll-” a whimper leaves him this time, “i’ll cum if you keep touching me like that-”

you try to hold back your laugh, ultimately failing when you see the embarrassed look on his face. he whines before grabbing both of your wrists, pushing you down flat on your back. he hovers over you, eyes filled with desperation as he openly stares at you. his hands tug at the hem of your shirt, asking for permission to take off your shirt.

you agree, watching him slide it off of you with your help. he’s met with the sight of your bra, hands shakily moving to take hold of your chest. he touches you how he likes, a dazed look on his face as he gets more greedy. “you don’t know how much i thought about this… just wanted to touch you here so much…”

your hands fumble to undo the clasps at the back, sliding your bra off so haechan can get a better look. he moans unabashedly, immediately moving to mouth at the valley of your chest. he’s leaving marks as he pleases, making it to your nipple and sucking harshly. his other hand pinches at the other nipple, causing you to let out choked whimpers.

your legs twitch at his hips, forcing him to stay in between your legs. you can feel how his hips grind down, mindlessly chasing his own pleasure. “you can probably get yourself off just like this, right? i can see you humping the bed.”

“fuck, i can’t help it. you’re so hot,” he mumbles against your skin, “i could make you feel good all day, that’s all i need.”

as if something goes off in his mind, he’s quick to begin trailing kisses down your body. your skin jumps at the feeling, his eyes peering up at yours. he unbuttons your shorts and pulls them down, not caring how rough he’s being. it’s quiet in the room when he sees you in just your underwear, his heavy breaths filling the air. his nose nuzzles against the seat of your panties, a chill running up your spine when you can feel him breathe in deeply.

he slowly pulls your panties down, his eyes zeroed in on your core. he holds the panties in his hands, looking back at you, “you said you’d let me keep these, right?”

you laugh at him, feigning disgust when he asks, “you’re so gross! but i did make a promise, right?”

there’s a giddy look on his face when he pushes them away for later. he focuses on what’s more important, your open legs inviting him to where he’s been fantasizing the most. he settles down between your thighs again, pressing quick kisses to your inner thighs. he feels them try to close in on him, one of his hands moving to keep one leg pried open.

he takes a breath before looking at your core. he swipes a finger down your slit before sticking in his mouth. a moan follows, “you taste so sweet. fuck, it’s better than i imagined…”

it takes no time for him to press a kiss to your clit, sucking lightly as you let out a low moan. it’s easy for him to bring you closer to his face, spreading your cunt apart with his thumbs as his tongue licks at your entrance. all you can hear is how loud he’s being, the slurps of him against your cunt and the moans he’s letting out get to your head.

his tongue focuses at your entrance, switching between sticking the tip of it in your entrance and licking up at the slick that comes out. his thumb circles your clit, pressing hard against it causing you to twitch in his hold. his hand gives up on trying to keep your leg open, choosing instead to move up and tug at your nipple.

your thighs begin to shake around his head, feeling his fluffy hair tickle your thighs. when his tongue moves to tease your entrance again, you clench around it. he moves slightly away, eyes gazing up at you in wonder, lips and chin glossy with how wet you are. he licks his lips, “are you-”

you cut him off, “fingers- i need your fingers, haechan.”

he’s quick to comply, moving back to his original spot. his mouth replaces his thumb, now choosing to suck on your clit. there’s a finger at your entrance, slowly pushing in. he grunts against you when he feels you clench again, tongue flicking at your clit. your hands shoot to his hair, threading through the strand as your hips rut against his face.

it’s when you feel his glasses bump against your skin that he lets out an irritated noise. you open your eyes fast enough to see him pull away from you, quickly ripping his glasses off his face and moving right back to your pussy. you wail when he doesn’t add another finger, “n-need more, haechan, please.”

he nods against you, not pulling away as he adds another finger. all the air in your chest leaves as he curls them inside you, hitting spots that you could never reach on your own. he chuckles against you, “who knew that you can be this messy just from me eating you out? made you wait so long, didn’t mean to, baby.”

your hands tighten around some strands of his hair, causing him to whimper against you. the bed shakes a little when his hips grind against the bed. he chuckles lightly, “n-need you to cum already or else i’m gonna cum just by grinding against the bed.”

“keep going and i’ll cum soon. right there, haechan, please.”

your hands press his face closer to you, no longer obstructed by his glasses. his tongue teases your clit, giving you just enough stimulation to have you whining. he can tell you’re close just by how you’re clenching around his fingers. when he looks up at you, his heart beats a little faster with how good you look, and it’s all because of him. he moans out, “god, you’re so perfect, everything about you is so-”

he’s cut off by your moan, your orgasm crashing into you, clenching hard down onto his fingers. he helps you ride through it, fucking his fingers into you until you start pushing his head away from you. he laughs before you take his wet fingers into your mouth, cleaning them up as you stare right at him.

he’s quiet now, no words coming out of him as you move to peel off his sweats. you eye how hard he is in his boxers, hand moving to palm his clothed cock. he whines, just like before, “please don’t. i will seriously cum right now if you keep on touching me.”

you blink at him, “what’s so wrong with that?”

“wanna do it inside your pretty pussy.”

you lean up to press your lips against his again. it’s desperate this time, tongues moving against each other as haechan holds you close to him. it only takes a bit of grinding against his cock before he breaks, standing up to clumsily pull his boxers and shirt off. in the meantime, you situate yourself against the pillows, haechan practically pouncing on top of you.

he teases his tip along your slit, tapping it lightly against your sensitive nub. you hiss, your hands reaching for his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. he lets out a hushed whimper at the pain, cheeks red when you let out a laugh. you sigh out to him, “i needed this more than you can imagine. somehow i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

he presses a kiss to your collarbone, and you can feel how he smiles against you, “what do you mean ‘somehow?’ i like to think that you’re just as obsessed with me as i am with you.”

he teases your entrance with his tip, causing you both to moan. you breathe out, “i can’t believe i let some loser hacker get me like this. you should be glad.”

“i’m the best one in this world, y’know? now tell this loser hacker how much you want him.”

you whine out his name, “please don’t tease… i know you want this as bad as i do, i can feel your cock twitching against me. just wanna feel you deep in me. i know you want it, too.”

he bites his lip to hold back a moan, his body betraying him when his hips push against yours. “a-alright, i know, baby. i’ll make sure to make the both of us feel good, okay? you ready?”

you nod, reaching up to give him one last kiss. you watch as he lines himself up at your entrance, his eyes losing focus. he pushes in slowly, your head pushing into the pillows as you moan out his name. he’s thick, your walls trying to adjust to his size as his head falls to your shoulder, his warm breath hitting your skin.

once he bottoms out, he looks down to see where he’s buried deep inside you. he lets out a whimper, his arms weak as he tries to hold himself up. he lets out a shaky breath, “i don’t- i don’t think i’ll last long…”

“i-it’s okay, just go slow. i can wait-”

he pushes his cock deeper inside you, “no i can- i can move just-”

he feels you clench around his cock for the first time, your walls sucking him in deeper. it’s all too much for him, your warm cunt and your needy little face is just too much. he can’t help it when his cock throbs inside of you, cum shooting deep inside your cunt without any warning. he falls on top of you, biting down on your shoulder to try to hide out the loud whimpers he’s letting out.

you’re not too surprised with how long he��s been holding himself out. he was even teasing himself, grinding against the bed when he was eating you out. you soothe him, hands running up and down his back as he lets out soft cries. you’re fine with it ending here, there’s still much more time you have together.

except, haechan pushes himself back up, cheeks red and eyes filled with tears as he fucks his cock into you again. he lets out a hiss, eyes fluttering shut at the overstimulation biting at him. you can feel how messy it all is, some of his cum slipping out of you and helping him fuck you.

he’s slow at first, trying to will away the pain. you’re louder than him right now, his cock hitting every spot inside you. you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. you cry out to him, “thank you, haechan. fuck, i feel so full!”

whining at your words, he quickens his pace, the pain bleeding into pleasure. “never thought i’d be able to feel you like this, so i-” a moan leaves him when your nails dig into his back, “i couldn’t help myself, had to cum- need to cum inside you.”

“felt so good, i didn’t care. wanna feel you cum again, wanna cum with you this time!”

“i’ll make sure you do, baby.”

he’s so sensitive right now, tears nearly prickling his eyes as he fucks you. he can’t seem to care though, not when your warm walls are clenching around him. not when you call out his name like he’s the only thing you need. how could he care when you’re the only thing he wants in his life?

“you know, i couldn’t stop thinking about this on the ride here. h-had to stop myself from getting hard in a taxi because of you.”

“y-yeah? needed you just as much, touched myself last night because i wanted you so bad.”

he whines at the thought of you stuffing your fingers in your cunt, moaning out his name just because of him. he can feel you shaking under him, wanting nothing more than to cum. “i’m here for you now, gonna give you everything you need. gonna stuff you full of my cum again.”

your hands bring his head down to kiss you, your hands softly supping his cheeks as you do. your fingers wipe away at the nearly dried tears, bringing him as close to you as possible. when you pull away for air, he moans out, “came so many times to the thought of having you like this. fuck, all i’m gonna be able to think about is you falling apart on my cock.”

you nod, because he’s all you can think about right now. you can’t think anymore, he’s taken up all of your senses. all you can do is moan out his name, letting him fuck you in the way that he’s always wanted. “haechan, ‘m so close, please-” you cry, “need you to make me cum, wanna cum on your cock.”

he can barely put a sentence together, “yeah, fuck, gonna cum on my cock? gonna show me how bad you need me? have your pussy milk me of all my cum?”

his hand reaches down to rub at your clit, urging you to cum. “i can’t hold back anymore, baby,” you can feel him throb inside you, “need you to cum, let me cum with you.”

that’s all it takes for you to let out a whimper of his name, cries falling from your mouth as he fucks you to an orgasm. with how you’re squeezing his cock, it doesn’t take long for him to cum again, a high pitched whimper joining your sounds. he cums inside, fucking his sensitive cock inside you to ride out your orgasm.

he collapses on top of you, hot and sweaty as his breaths mix in with yours. you’ve never heard him this quiet, basking in your warmth as he enjoys the haze he’s in. you don’t bother moving, even as he starts to soften inside you. he nuzzles himself against your chest, pressing small kisses on your skin. his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, “thank you for everything. i mean it.”

you let out a faint laugh, “that’s sweet. i didn’t realize you could be this nice. thank you for giving me a chance.”

“i told you i was romantic. you were just too obsessed with me to notice.”

“you’re weird,” you scoff.

“you like it.”

“i do.”

when you both have time, you take turns on choosing places you both want to go to. haechan always offers to pay for any traveling fees, laughing when you suggest he’s practically your sugar daddy. after many months of meeting like this, it’s easy for you to confess to him. it’s even easier for him to wrap you in his arms, a kiss pressed to your cheek as he tells you feels the same way.

now, you’re both due for another trip. there was more of a wait between now and your last trip, finding yourself just as busy as haechan. when you finally have time to yourself, you realize that it’s your turn to choose a place to visit. you find yourself looking at a quieter city to indulge both you and haechan’s homebody trait.

of course, haechan makes it possible for you both to head over. when you had originally brought up the city, haechan showed some hesitance. when you question him, he responds with, “well… i have a friend over there.”

you ask if you can meet his friend, and after some thinking, haechan decides it’s okay for you two to meet.

when you both walk around the city, exploring the shops they have to offer, you can tell haechan’s mood shifts. his eyes begin to scan around the small crowds of people, making sure no one is looking too hard at the both of you.

when you make a turn to another street, you’re met with a bigger shop, right in the middle of a junction. haechan stops you from going any further, letting you know that this is where his friend works. you eye the store, realizing that it’s a jewelry store. he takes your hand in his before stepping in, opening the door for the both of you.

he calls out to someone named mark, waiting near the entrance as you look around. there’s gold jewelry on display and other antiques all throughout the store. before you can ask haechan what this place really is, a man who looks just as young as haechan steps out, his confused face morphing into one of giddiness.

“it’s been forever, man! and is this- is this who you’ve been talking to me about?”

“shut up!” haechan whines, looking back towards you, “this is mark, someone who i work with.”

while mark is complaining about how they’re more than just coworkers, everything is hitting you all at once. you completely forgot that haechan works with other people, and you fully believed everyone else to be hackers. you wonder what a man in a jewelry store contributes to a group overall. you don’t bother asking now, not trying to ruin the reunion of two friends.

it’s nice watching haechan talk to someone he’s comfortable with. you see a lot of him that you don’t normally see. you let them talk, joining in when mark tells you something to embarrass haechan. it never works out in mark’s favor, though, haechan immediately spilling mark’s secrets to you.

time passes by quickly in the store, mark telling you stories that have happened to him while taking care of the place. eventually, mark gets a call from the store’s phone, pulling him away from both you and haechan.

when the call ends, he sighs and looks at the both of you, “i have to go pick something up from this guy. will you guys be okay if i leave you here for a bit?”

you both nod, watching mark pick up a few things before getting ready to leave. he turns back suddenly before walking out, eyes narrowing at your boyfriend, “no funny business, haechan. i mean it.”

haechan raises his hands in defense, a sickly sweet smile on his face as he tells mark that there’s nothing he should be worried about. mark shakes his head and tells you both goodbye when he walks out. you both watch him walk away from the store, out of his sight.

it’s quiet for a few moments before haechan speaks, “do you think we can fuck in here?”

“haechan! where would we even do that? there’s cameras in here and the whole front is made of glass!”

you watch his eyes glance over the store before watching them land on the door labeled staff only. when you turn to look at him, he’s smiling at you innocently, as if you don’t already know what he’s thinking. you groan, “if you’re alright with a quickie, then okay.”

he takes no time to drag you inside the small staff room, locking the door behind him as he smirks at you, “let’s hurry before mark comes back.”

with haechan, you come to realize that you’re willing to do anything he wants.

a/n: JESUS i wrote this way too fast and now i have to stay away from google docs for at least a week... but anything for haechan... happy bday to that guy... ALSO THANK U TO @hrts4doie FOR BETA READING HEHE...

tags: @hxxchxn @sourkimchi @hcheach @axo-l0tl @hazyhae @taexoxosgf @hyuckdolle

#nct fic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #haechan fic #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines

1K notes · View notes

jophiel-shakes · 10 months ago

Text

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

summary :: Alastor during a rut

warning :: nsfw

note :: requests are still open

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alastor isn’t a sexual person by any means.

Don’t get me wrong, he fooled around once or twice in life but in hell there was never a looming pressure to get married or have children.

Despite his aloof attitude towards sex and general romance there is a certain time when his more animalistic side controls him.

These periods happen to be ruts.

Every sinner has to deal with unsavoury things because of their hellish form, Alastor’s is just a unbridled need to have sex.

Of course Alastor tries to survive the ruts in confinement (usually in his radio tower or bedroom), making it clear to everyone that they’d best stay away if they value their lives.

Though there comes a point where dealing with the issue himself doesn’t do the trick.

So he decides to leave his tower in search of a mate.

And you happen to be the perfect find.

On sweeter terms you would’ve been honoured and perhaps even flustered but Alastor’s inky tentacles ripping you from your own room and dragging you into his own was rather alarming to say the least.

His room was hot and dense, Alastor himself loomed like a predator, his horns large and winding whilst his teeth glistened with drool.

It was a sight to behold and you were unsure if you should’ve been horny or terrified.

He’s quick to get in your personal space, scenting you immediately.

He asks to strike up a deal;

“How about a deal?” Alastor croons, sliding his hands down your back as he mumbles in your ear.

You clear your throat and try to mentally solve his mixed signals. “What for?”

“I’ll do you a favour, anything you want at any given moment. In return, you offer me your… company.”

You take it of course, to have a favour from Alastor was a great deal and you’d be helping him through his rut. Everyone wins.

Despite Alastor’s strong belief in acting as a gentleman most of his manners are thrown away once you shake hands.

He’s immediately buried himself into your body, inhaling your smell and pressing himself into you.

First, he takes you against the wall, being far too eager to move to his bed.

His talons graze your skin, pulling you into him with a desperate tightness.

One would’ve imagined sex with Alastor as sweeter and gentle, but whilst in a rut he’s got unbelievable stamina that he uses to split you.

Biting biting biting. Alastor can’t help but taste you. It’s a cannibalistic tendency, but he never takes a chunk out of you. Do expect him to draw blood though.

When in a rut he prefers to take you from behind. Mostly he likes to trap you between him and something else like a wall.

During the end of his rut when things have cooled, he’ll take it smoother and actually make love to you.

Though, when he’s in the heat of it it’s nothing but quickies and rough sex.

Alastor goes for multiple rounds, usually three before you tap out or someone interrupts. Generally he could go longer.

Alastor will not cum anywhere but inside you. He’s mentioned in passing that the feeling of cumming inside helps settle him more.

No one in the hotel knows of your affair, well, apart from Angel who could practically smell the daily quickies on you, see it in your flushed face and frizzed hair. Husk was a close second who’s seen Alastor in a isolated rut before. Angel then spread it to everyone else.

Nifty knew too, being the little creep she is, she mentioned to you her habit of listening in.

Despite most having heard you yelp his name at night, Alastor just pretends nothing ever happened and nobody dares mention it to him.

Although you do cop a lot of teasing from Angel.

Once things settle down and Alastor gets the frustrations out of his system, everything goes back to normal. Your bite marks heal and everyone settles.

That is, until his next rut.

#alastor x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader

3K notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 8 months ago

Text

Steve arriving at a hotel for a work conference for his dad’s company. He hates it there, he’s miserable, he’s constantly trying to figure out what he actually wants to do with his life.

It’s late when he gets there and the hotel is fully booked because of a concert happening.

He gets his key card after waiting for 30 minutes to check in.

He opens the hotel room door to find it is already occupied by a guy with a whole lot of tattoos all over his very naked and still dripping from a shower body.

Obviously he panics a bit and wonders how the hell this could’ve happened and Eddie panics a little because of safety (turns out he’s the singer of the band performing the following night!)

They try to call the front desk but the line is busy and Steve already dreads having to go back and wait in the line downstairs.

Eddie offers to let him just stay and they’ll fix it in the morning.

“Plenty of room in a king for both of us.”

Which may be true, but Steve is an octopus when he shares a bed and he knows he will end up in Eddie’s space. Should he warn him? Probably. Does he? Absolutely not.

Steve rushes through a shower and hops into bed, making small talk with Eddie about his life in a band, ignores questions about what he does as much as he can because he doesn’t feel like explaining he’s just a puppet for his dad’s never ending business career.

He falls asleep listening to Eddie’s soft, deep tone.

And of course when he wakes up, he’s got his legs and arms wrapped around Eddie anywhere he can reach. His drool is drying on Eddie’s chest and he’s coming to terms with the fact that his dick was definitely pressed against Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie’s kind enough not to say anything about it, just squeezes Steve’s arm and continues petting his hair.

It’s nice, too nice.

Steve has to get up. He’s got things to do today and if he’s late, his dad will hear about it and berate him for hours.

Shit, even if he’s on time he’ll probably find some other reason to berate him for hours.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked.

“Hm? Oh. Just don’t really wanna get up.”

“Then don’t. I don’t have anywhere to be until soundcheck after lunch.”

And now Steve has no choice but to explain his job and why he’s here, how his dad is relying on him to network and find potential mergers. How he hates putting on the Harrington face to please everyone.

It’s easy to admit it to Eddie, especially with Eddie’s arms wrapped around him, holding him like he could actually protect him from anything his father tries to say to hurt him.

“You don’t like your job.”

It’s not a question.

“Does anyone really like their job?”

“I do.”

“Well, you’re a rockstar. Of course you do. But I can’t be a rockstar.”

“Maybe not. But what is your rockstar?”

Steve had never been asked that, not even by guidance counselors in high school. They all knew he’d work for his father. He got a business degree for his father. He owned more suits than sweatpants for his father.

“I…don’t know.”

“Maybe you could try figuring it out.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“No, it’s not. But you could still try.”

So Steve sent a message to his dad’s partner, let him know he was fighting food poisoning from the in-flight meal and couldn’t make it to the conference today. He watched as Eddie threw on some clothes, mussed up his hair instead of brushed it, and quickly shoved his things into his bag.

“I should get out of your hair, try to get the room thing fixed.”

Eddie looked at him, looked at the alarm clock by the bed, down at Steve’s bag.

“How many days are you packed for?”

“Uh, four, technically. Trip was supposed to be three, but I always have an extra in case there’s flight delays or-“

“Come with me.”

“To…soundcheck?”

“On tour.”

Steve was an idiot, his father made sure he knew it as often as possible. But he couldn’t just go on tour with a stranger.

Could he?

What was he really doing here?

He hated his job, hated his dad, hated not having a clear path in front of him.

And this certainly wasn’t a clear path; He barely knew this guy, and hadn’t even heard his band. But it was a trail, the start of a path that could lead him somewhere he’d actually like to be.

Maybe he could take this chance.

Robin would tell him to do it, if she weren’t in Antarctica studying penguins for three months, only able to call once a week to check in.

What would she say if she called him and he was backstage at a heavy metal concert?

She’d probably say he’s lost his damn mind, but she’d be glad he did.

“Well, I am a rockstar. I could afford to have you around.”

“I’m not sure I could really afford to when my dad fires me,” Steve sighed, reality hitting him a little too quickly.

“I’m not really willing to be, like, your kept boy or anything,” Steve felt himself flush.

“I’m not really willing to have a kept boy,” Eddie smirked, joining him on the bed again, legs crossed in front of him. “But I’d definitely be happy to have someone who can help our tour manager out. You’d be working, though the jobs kind of boring.”

“More boring than sitting in an office five days a week and meeting with old white dudes who haven’t done anything but work their lives away for 40+ years?”

“Nah, way better than that. Sometimes you’ll have to deal with Gareth’s moods, but I promise to make it worth your while.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” Eddie very obviously checked him, eyes trailing over Steve’s bare chest. “I’m open to negotiating.”

“And if I want a kiss?”

“Then a kiss you’ll have.”

“And if I want you to fuck me?”

“Then you’ll have to sign some paperwork,” Eddie laughed. “But that can be arranged too.”

So Steve left with Eddie, four days of clothes in his bag, no idea what he’d even tell his dad or anyone else, and no clue exactly what his new job would entail.

All he knew was Eddie seemed to be made just for him, chaos and hyperactivity included, and Steve wasn’t gonna give that up now. Even if it made no sense, even if it was ridiculous to gain a new job and new rockstar boyfriend in less than 24 hours, even if his next call with Robin was a combination of her yelling about his impulsive behaviors and congratulations for finally doing something for him.

Even if he was more of a VIP groupie for the band than an employee of the tour manager.

Steve finally found something he wanted.

If he sent his dad’s calls to voicemail, that was because he was too busy walking his new path.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble #modern au #rockstar eddie munson #meet cute #unrealistic timeline of falling in love #and I’m not sorry for it

1K notes · View notes

yourstru1y4ever · 1 month ago

Text

Day 21 - Flustered

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 710 Content: Fluff! They're idiots your honor, but they're my idiots Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: A drabble! I didn't want to make this one too too long. Besides I'm cooking for one of the future days 👀. As always be sure to like, reblog and comment!! - YoursTruly

“He’s just so- UGH!” You cover your face with your hands and let out a groan. Shoko shakes her head while laughing at you. You both were sitting in the school’s shared kitchen, enjoying each other’s company. It was nice to have this moment to catch up with Shoko because you rarely got to see her on missions.

Well. . . it was nice until Shoko asked how things were going between you and Gojo.

“I just- I dunno, wish something would happen between us, but it’s like he’s untouchable.” You mumble, your hands still covering your face. “It’s stupid, Gojo probably just treats me the same way he treats anyone else.”

Shoko hums and closes her eyes, her lips curling into a small smirk.

“You still call him Gojo?” She asks and you peer up at her, “I thought you were on a first name basis with everyone?” A teasing glint flashes in her eyes. “I dunno, I never really thought about calling him Satoru before.” It was a lot easier for you just to call him Gojo because that’s how you knew him. It rolled off the tongue, especially when you’re yelling at him over a stupid prank he pulled on you.

“Call him Satoru. I guarantee he’ll stop fucking around with you if you do.”

“Ha! Fat chance,” You laugh at her and Shoko shrugs her shoulders, still smirking.

“Just try,” She reaches down in her pocket to grab a cigarette, “And speak of the devil. . .”

Gojo and Geto waltz into the kitchen. Gojo zips around the corner and opens the fridge to see what food he could steal from you while Geto starts making tea.

“How was the mission?”

“Boring as ever,” Gojo whines, “Did you make anything to eat?” He asks you and you roll your eyes at him.

“It’s not for you! I was going to eat the leftovers for lunch tomorrow,” You tell him, turning your back to him. You make eye contact with Shoko and she gives you a look. Your shoulders droop before Gojo puts his arm around your shoulders, his head leaning to the side.

“I’m gonna die if I don’t eat anything right now~”

“Leave her alone, Gojo,” Shoko tells him, but the white haired nuisance clinging onto you wouldn’t listen.

“But I’m starving, Shoko! It’s a crime to let me die like this,” He tells you, sunglasses falling down the bridge of his nose as he looks at you.

“Make your own food Satoru, I need my leftovers for my mission tomorrow.” You try to push him off your shoulder but he goes stiff.

You look back at him and are surprised to see a faint blush spreading across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. . . what?

“Nevermind.” He lets go of you and looks away, “Not hungry anymore.”

Geto and Shoko share a look. Geto grins, “I thought you were going to starve to death?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Satoru pushes his glasses back up his nose as he clears his throat. “Nope. Actually tired. Going to bed. Goodnight.” And he rushes out of the kitchen.

A silence fills the room before Shoko starts laughing and Geto chuckles as you stay dumbfounded.

“What. . . just happened?” You ask, trying to make sense of Gojo’s reaction.

“Nothing,” Geto says as he joins you and Shoko at the table with tea. He offers you a cup and you take it, looking down at the swirling pattern the leaves are creating in the water.

Shoko catches her breath, “That was worth the price of admission. You need to do that more often, it’s hilarious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the honored one so flustered before.” She covers her smile, trying to control her laughter, but it’s not working.

You hear a door slam in the distance and Shoko doubles over with her laughter.

He slams the door quickly and covers his mouth. You calling him Satoru replays in his head over and over as he starts pacing around the room. Why else would he think about you calling him Satoru in other ways. He wants you to call him that all the time, in classes, during missions, in bed.

He’s going insane, he has to be.

#tuna tober 2024 #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fanfic #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you

368 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Text

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory.

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus.

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…?

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you.

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way.

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…”

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips.

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home.

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts.

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night.

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8.

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on.

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it.

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens.

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?”

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?”

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.”

“...What’s that?”

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one.

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through.

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?”

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back.

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it.

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him.

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him.

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world.

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?”

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap.

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being.

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you.

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain.

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one.

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.”

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground.

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance.

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe.

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need.

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place.

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one.

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.”

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt.

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants.

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size.

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood.

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured…

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose….

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart.

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead.

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.”

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x fem reader

1K notes · View notes

spitdrunken · 10 months ago

Text

Vox x Reader Relationship Headcanons

This post contains SPOILERS in the sense that it is based off of the version of Vox as presented in episode 2. None of the actual plot points featured within are discussed. notes: background vox x valentino / polyamory (reader only dates vox), extremely unhealthy relationships, stalking, manipulation, hypnosis, power imbalance. kidnapping + physical abuse mention (neither done by vox)

To catch the eye of a demon as powerful as Vox is not an ideal situation. While he could be considered more levelheaded than your average demon, and certainly is when compared to his associates, he still has things that rile him up like no other. No, he doesn’t have a whole string of sexual partners to use and abuse like Valentino does, but that makes the weight of his gaze all the more crushing when it does fall upon someone.

Once you’ve got his interest, it’s practically impossible to slip away from him. He’s got vantage points all across the Pride Ring, being able to slip in and out of its many scattered screens with ease. While the usual tracking Vox Media subjects its customers to is already an invasion of privacy, yours would be on a whole other level.

With how inescapable his company is amongst Sinner demons, it’s more than likely you’ve at least got some kind of device he’d be able to peer into. As soon as your phone is being plugged into a port, he’d be skimming through your messages and search history. Though your face-to-face meetings might have been minimal or non-existent at this point, he would already know far more about you than most of your friends. …You should really clear out your search history more often. But, hey, he’s not unhappy about it! There’s no traces of his presence as soon as he’s done.

Vox cares a great deal about his reputation and image. Not only because he’s the very face of a high-earning brand, but it is also simply the kind of person he is. Whereas someone like Valentino might have gone right ahead and shot any possible partner in the head, Vox is much more careful than that. What would people think, if he simply went around and started electrocuting a bunch of unknowns to death? No, that’s just not his way of doing things whatsoever.

Even besides that, there’s also much more satisfaction in it, to him, to convince you to leave them and join him, of your own accord. Vox has always been the brain behind all operations, the meticulous and thoughtful one, the one who got investors on board and appeared in interviews. In other words, he’s become quite good with words, and can easily come off as charming whenever he so wishes. That is exactly the way he will present himself to you, at least at first: a demon unlike other demons, practically a gentleman.

You wouldn’t have known him from his early days, the time where he still made mistakes, and nobody knew his name. When he invites you over for dinner (through an email that you’re convinced is fake spam, the first couple of times you receive it), he wants to appear nothing but infallible and powerful to you. You, who is only familiar with him through screens, as a flawless news presenter, gameshow host, and much more. A smile would never leave his screen, and he is constantly courteous.

He’s got a couple of expensive gifts at the ready as well, ones that hail from his own company. Perhaps it’s the newest iteration in his own line of phones, or a brand-new kind of security system. He’ll wave off any kind of dismissal of his gift, telling to just take it, you don’t even know how many of those he has lying around! Trust him. (In fact, they are modified to grant him even more easy access into your life. A constant stream of information directed at him, with Vox never even having to enter your device anymore.)

In a place like the Pride Ring in Hell, existence is demeaning at best, and utterly miserable at worst, for the average demon. Vox is more than aware of this and, at first, doesn’t even try his absolute best to sweep you off your feet. The power and the safety net someone such as himself would provide would be more than enough for most people. For the average demon, time spent by his side would be a vast improvement, and no one can deny that.

And, in this case, he is most likely interested in someone with far less power than him: you. Whether actively aware of it or not, and if he was, he’d never admit it, a part of Vox desires to be with someone from whom affection comes more easily. And that is… Not Valentino. Not that he’d ever separate from him, mind you, you’d simply be the antithesis to him. If you aren’t, he’ll make you something closer to that.

One of the largest drawbacks that immediately becomes noticeable, is the political target spending time around Vox makes you. Whether he purposefully makes the two of you appear in Hell’s largest tabloid, or only goes someplace where the two of you are sure to be spotted, you’ll surely become a demon worthy of kidnapping after this. It is exactly this, and the fear that comes along with it, that Vox would weaponize against you.

Wouldn’t it be much better, and safer, to stay in one of the company’s buildings? You’re bound to get kidnapped anywhere else, you know. He’s just looking out for you! Really though, he’d never let something like that happened to you. Not only because such an occurence would cause his reputation to take a great hit, but also because he cares! The praises he heaps on top of you are never outright lies, though some are perhaps exaggerated. He wouldn’t spend so much time on a demon he wasn’t genuinely interested in.

Vox, to the vast majority of people, would come on too strong, and too fast. The kind of attention that comes from someone who hasn’t been denied anything in a long time. At the same time, underneath his collected demeanor, seen in his stalking and meticulous collection of information, there is something that could be seen as a glimmer of desperation.

One might stop and think that, if he truly were as capable and faultless as he makes himself out to be, why would he go through all of this trouble? Wouldn’t simply being himself, or something rather close to it, be enough? This is truly where the heart of the issue, his deeply-hidden insecurity, shines through. Besides just the way the thought of being rejected by you upsets him, as well as he tries to hide it, he can’t simply back out, now that he’s spent so much time around you. He’d never live it down.

If, for some reason, ‘diplomacy’ and his usual wooing doesn’t work… He’s an Overlord for a reason. He still has plenty of tricks left up his sleeve. He can manipulate any digital image he wants, including video, without ever touching editing software. Vox can show you the people closest to you saying outright brutal things about you, with their exact mannerisms and voice. All data gathered through the various devices of his he owns, then capable of creating replicas. In a limited way, he can bend reality to his will.

If even that doesn’t work, he has his powers of hypnosis as a last resort. In this case, he doesn’t like having to use them, would have preferred the satisfaction over getting you to fawn over him all on your own… But it’s just so much easier to plant a little trigger inside your brain. For him to snap his fingers, and have you become more agreeable. Your thoughts growing that tiniest bit hazier, your head the slightest bit heavier.

All you have to do is look into his eyes, and take a deep breath… That’s better, isn’t it? What were you even getting so upset about before, huh? (And again, hypnosis is a last resort here. He’s spent so many years dealing with Valentino’s temper tantrums that he’s an expert at diffusing any kind of argument, and nothing surprises anymore.)

Vox wouldn’t be likely to physically hurt you at all. He sees himself as being capable of more self-control than that, even when in the throes of jealousy. Really, the one you should be most afraid of during this entire ordeal is Valentino. While their relationship is by no means monogamous, and it never will be, he’s still used to being the center of attention. He uses violence and unpredictability to have Vox, largely, at his every beck and call. While Vox isn’t used to having denied things, Valentino’s is many times worse about it.

Initially, he ignores you. Designating you as some kind of fling, not even worthy of being one of his whores, soon ready to be forgotten. Vox doesn’t do those kinds of things all that often but, hey, anything’s bound to happen with an eternity of time to kill, right? It’s only when you become a more permanent fixture in their life that he really becomes more of a threat.

He’ll let his temper cut loose, specifically during times where the two of you are spending time together, causing mayhem around the company. If Vox’s attention is entirely unwanted, this may even be a welcome reprieve for you. Still, Valentino being jealous of you should be about the last thing you want. Frankly, it makes you liable to get shot on a bad day, or because of a poorly worded comment.

…Perhaps it would be better to stay close to Vox, then.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel x reader #yandere #hazbin hotel #cha.vox #cw.stalking #cw.hypnosis

1K notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 16 days ago

Note

Mammon with a reader who seems to be oblivious to his feelings for them, but they are more actually like "naaah, he can't actually like me that way" and does their best to treat Mammon well without looking like they're leading him on, without bringing up the obvious as to not make things awkward between them and essentially ruin the friendship.

One day during another mandatory mammon-crashing-over-mcs-room-for-company-and-chat, when he brings up the topic of love, reader just shrugs their shoulders and go "dunno how romantic love feels like. Dont think ill ever feel it". Because while they are a bit of a hopeless romantic, they just resigned from the idea because they werent shown much love growing up, so the idea that someone would actually love them seems very foreign. And they are also scared that they wouldn't be able to reciprocate for someone (in this case mammon)

(hope i explained well, just take your time with it. I just wanted something for the favorite tsundere 😭🙏

-Smooch Anon 💋

“What is Love?”

Summary: You and Mammon share a quiet late-night moment together in your room, each engaged in your own tasks but enjoying the familiar comfort of each other's presence. When Mammon unexpectedly brings up the topic of love, you admit that you don’t really know what true love feels like, prompting him to reassure you that you’re worth much more than you believe. Beneath his usual cocky exterior, Mammon shows a rare, vulnerable side, leaving you questioning the feelings between you and him, and whether his words hint at something deeper.

Tags: Mammon x Reader, Fluff, Light Angst, Comfort, Vulnerability, Emotional Conversation, Established Bond, Self-Worth, Hints of Romance.

Warnings: Brief mention of insecurity and self-doubt, Slight angst (You express uncertainty about love and self-worth), Mild language.

A/N: OMGGG I DIDN'T KNEW YOU WERE INTO OBEY ME?!! 🤭 AND YES MAMMON THE BEST BOY AND FAVOURITE CHARACTER!! 👏💛 Do you think him and Aventurine would get along? 👁️👁️ I feel like Aventurine would make fun of him for being in debts lmaoo

The night was quiet, the only sounds in the room being the occasional shuffle of paper as you worked on your assignments. The ever-familiar figure of Mammon lounged on the bed next to you, one leg hanging off the edge as he balanced his phone in one hand and absently flipped through some random channels on the TV with the other. It was a usual late-night hangout, a kind of unspoken routine the two of you had fallen into since you’d started living together in the Devildom.

As usual, Mammon was being his typical self—loud, boastful, and a little self-centered. But you had learned to tolerate his eccentricities. In fact, over time, you found yourself getting used to his antics. He wasn’t so bad once you looked past the arrogance and pride.

“Oi, you hear that new song from the radio today? It’s fire, I swear!” Mammon’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your work to find him looking at you expectantly, as if waiting for your approval.

“Yeah? Sounds cool.” you replied, trying not to sound too disinterested. Mammon’s eyes sparkled at your response, though you could tell it wasn’t the enthusiastic reaction he was hoping for.

“Cool, huh?” He chuckled, leaning back with a smug grin. “I knew you’d appreciate my impeccable taste.”

You just rolled your eyes, your attention returning to your papers. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Mammon let out a dramatic sigh and flopped back against the bed with exaggerated flair. "I swear, you never give me the credit I deserve." he muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t seriously upset. Mammon had always been dramatic like that, using over-the-top complaints to mask the fact that he enjoyed having your attention, even if it was in a teasing way.

After a brief silence, Mammon suddenly sat up, his usual cocky demeanor turning serious. You didn’t notice it at first, too caught up in your own thoughts, but the tone of his voice seemed to shift.

"You ever think about love, MC?" Mammon’s voice was quieter now, and his gaze drifted toward the window, as if the question had just popped into his head. "Like, real love. Not just the stuff you see in movies, but… the kind that lasts, y’know?"

You paused, the question catching you off guard. You weren't sure where he was going with this, but you didn’t want to make things awkward by immediately dismissing him.

"Love?" You muttered, not looking up from your work. "I dunno… can't say I’ve thought much about it."

You tried to sound nonchalant, but inside, your heart did a little skip. You had always been a bit of a hopeless romantic, dreaming about love stories that were too perfect to be real. But reality always crushed those dreams, leaving you to dismiss the idea that anyone could actually love you in that way. Especially not Mammon. He was the Avatar of Greed, after all. He loved money, power, and himself far more than anything else.

Mammon didn’t seem to let your answer dissuade him. Instead, he leaned forward, a faint frown on his face. "Come on, MC. You don’t ever wonder what it’d be like to be loved by someone? Like… really loved, you know?"

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but your voice wavered slightly. "Honestly, I don’t really know what that feels like. I mean, I never had much of it growing up. So… the whole idea just seems kinda foreign to me." You paused, hoping Mammon wouldn’t press you further. "I don’t think I’ll ever feel it. Not like that."

Mammon blinked, clearly surprised by your words. For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips slightly parted, like he was trying to process what you’d said. He had always been confident, always eager to show off, but in this moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes—something rare, something deep.

You quickly tried to change the subject, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were. "I mean, love’s just… it’s not something I really need to focus on right now, y’know?" You forced a small smile, but you could feel the heaviness in your chest. "I’m just trying to get through each day."

Mammon leaned back, resting his arms behind his head, but you could tell that your words had struck a chord. He was quiet for a long moment, and you began to wonder if you had said the wrong thing.

"Well, I think you deserve it," Mammon finally spoke up, his voice softer than usual. "You deserve someone who’ll love you. You’re a lot more than you think you are, MC. Way more."

His words hit you harder than you expected. You froze, unsure of how to respond. Mammon, the one who prided himself on being the best was saying this to you? The person who thought he could never see them in that way?

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mammon, don’t say stuff like that. You’re just being nice." You didn’t meet his gaze, afraid that the look in his eyes might give away something you weren’t ready to face.

"I’m not just being nice," he retorted, his voice quiet but insistent. "I’m serious. You don’t get it, do you?"

You forced a nervous laugh, trying to keep the mood light. "It’s not that I don’t get it. I just…" You trailed off, not sure how to continue without making things more complicated than they already were.

But Mammon was quiet now, too, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he sighed and stretched out, as if trying to shrug off the tension. "Whatever. I just think you’re a lot more special than you let on. So don’t go sellin’ yourself short, okay?"

You looked over at him, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite understand. "Okay, Mammon. Thanks."

Mammon smiled, a little smug, but there was something warm behind it. "No problem, MC. I’m always here to remind ya how awesome you are."

You both fell into a comfortable silence after that, the awkwardness of the conversation ebbing away as Mammon eventually started talking about something else—probably some scheme he had cooked up to get rich, you guessed. But even as he rambled on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more behind his words. More than just Mammon, the greedy and selfish demon.

But you had no idea what to do with that feeling.

In the end, you just let it go, hoping it was a one-time thing. After all, demons people like Mammon didn’t really fall for people like you, did they?

#obey me x y/n #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me #x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #fluff #light angst #comfort #vulnerability #emotional conversation #established bond #self worth #hints of romance #brief mention of insecurity and self-doubt #mild language

159 notes · View notes

mareastrorum · 7 months ago

Text

These are just initial thoughts, and perhaps I’ll learn something that changes my mind on it, but I’m glad to see Critical Role making the leap to their own subscription service with Beacon.

As a lead in: I’m an attorney that has some background in IP law, though it isn’t what I practice currently. I’ve kept in contact with several active practitioners, particularly those that represent small-time creators either in their own independent practice or via nonprofits. I do not have an extensive Rolodex of IP peers, nor do I spend the money to keep up on IP CLEs. I’m just someone who used to know a ton because I did heavy research and work in that space, and that hasn’t been the case for years.

So here’s my thoughts a bit on the IP angle:

The primary reason I’m happy to see this leap is that CR is taking active steps to keep control over its IP. It’s a boring thing to most people, but when I start paying attention to a specific creator (authors, directors, companies, etc.), I tend to be very attentive to how they use their IP. How freely do they license their marks to partner with other creators to make merch? How often do they allow others to make adaptations or derivatives of their copyrights? What is the quality of those products? What is the supply chain like? Are those third parties objectionable in some way? Were the other parties faithful to the original works or marks? Was this a cash grab or an earnest effort to make something worth the price tag?

Honestly, I like how CR run their business. They have a history of tapping fans and fellow small businesses when making new merch or spinoffs. They embrace the culture of fan-made derivative works, both by featuring fanart/cosplay and by sharing their success. Do you know how rare it is for a company to pay fan artists for their already-made and freely posted work and then sell books of it? Let me be clear: CR bought a limited license from each artist so they could print and sell each work in a physical book, then paid the cost of publishing that book with no guarantee that CR would make that money back, let alone profit. I have a copy of the collector’s edition art books: they’re actually very well made and the packaging definitely cost a pretty penny. That’s not a rainmaker idea, that’s genuinely risking financial loss to sell something people could access for free if they wanted to.

The art books aren’t a one-off either. Darrington Press is CR’s separate LLC for tabletop games. (It’s good business practice to split off companies that handle products in different industries.) CR has also made shows based on those games, and the Candela Obscura series has quite a dedicated audience. Everything about Candela belongs to them: the game itself, the rule book, all the art in the book, the web series based on the game, and merch. It’s so successful that they invested in scheduling a live show for Candela later this month. That’s HUGE.

Contrast that with the distribution of Campaign 1 and the first 19 episodes of Campaign 2. CR cannot host those videos themselves; Geek & Sundry still exists and still holds what I presume to be distribution rights (but I don’t have the contract to review). So G&S gets to host those videos on YouTube and reaps the advertising. I can’t speak to whatever share CR gets from that, but considering that CR is locked out of hosting their own copies of those videos, I doubt it’s much, if any, revenue. (If you’re wondering why CR just didn’t buy those rights back, I ask: what incentive does G&S have to sell something that’s making them money for no cost?)

Knowing that background about G&S, I was wary of CR choosing Amazon to host and distribute The Legend of Vox Machina. Originally, TLOVM was not the plan; CR had a kickstarter for an animated special based on C1. It was only because they blew past the goal that CR was able to make an entire season. The reasonable assumption is that choosing Amazon had to have secured CR additional funding for future seasons of the show, which seems evident from how quickly season 2 was announced, Mighty Nein Animated is also going to be a thing, and that season 3 of TLVOM is scheduled for fall 2024. CR had the option of just doing 1 season and keeping it purely in their control, but going with Amazon meant they could animate more of their works. Animation is expensive. I cannot stress enough how doubtful I am that CR would have been able to afford this many episodes and both campaigns if they had not gone this route. As wary as I was in the start, it paid off, and it’s going well—so far. Hopefully CR doesn’t regret that decision if Amazon tries something sleazy. But, as before, we don’t have the contracts and can’t know how secure CR’s position is if any dispute came up.

CR also partnered with Dark Horse Comics to make Vox Machina comics and Might Nein Origins comics. What’s especially surprising is that each of the cast had a hand in writing the MNO comics for their characters, with Matt listed for multiple. That isn’t very common with comic adaptations. Often times, IP owners let comic companies go ham with minimal oversight. Being listed as one of the authors comes with IP rights that have to be negotiated. That means that Dark Horse had to talk with CR about whether that warrants more or less revenue going to which party in exchange for that—or, alternatively, whether the comic gets made at all. That’s a ballsy move. You think people can just demand to write the comics that a publishing company is going to pay to print? Pffft. CR wanted some creative control, and that is a big ask. However, Dark Horse still has the distribution rights, both digitally and for physical copies. You couldn’t buy the comics from CR until they came out with the library edition, a book bound compilation of 4/8 comics. But the publisher is still Dark Horse; CR is just allowed to sell the book directly from their own site as well.

Contrast that with the novels about CR characters. CR partnered with Penguin Random House to publish novels about Vex and Vax (Kith & Kin), Lucien (The Nine Eyes of Lucien), and Laudna (What Doesn’t Break). Liam and Laura were vocal about having some say in K&K, whereas Madeline Roux said in an interview that she had full control over TNEOL. Both of those novels were narrated with CR voices, but narrating a book doesn’t come with IP rights, it just brings in a paycheck. There’s a lot less IP control in there compared to the comics, but this isn’t abnormal for book publishing. To be blunt, I doubt PRH would have agreed to publish the novels if anyone from CR had been a co-author or had heavy oversight over the author or the editing. I don’t think PRH even considered that as an option. Either an author that has already managed to sell X number of copies or nothing. Creative control over a book a huge ask, asks come with reduced revenue, and switching to books from a web series is already a leap. The fact that Laura and Liam had any say is surprising, really.

That was a long meandering tour of what we’ve seen CR do with its IP. The reason I bring up each of these things is that navigating the way to protect an IP in this space is rife with challenges. Different types of IP warrant different strategies because of the cost involved in creating each medium and the challenges placed by industries that have already sprung up around them. Any time that a third party is tapped to create an IP, it’s usually because they already have the funds and resources to create the work, and CR has to negotiate for revenue, creative control, distribution, and—the big one—who gets to be the owner. These are not easy, quick, or fun conversations, and CR is always going to be the smaller company at the table.

Knowing that, I’m not surprised or worried that CR is creating its own independent subscription service with Beacon. It tells me that they’re being careful with their IP whenever they can. A subscription service means they don’t have to trade away distribution rights or give up ad revenue to a third party. They’re in this for a long term investment, and that requires solid income not tied to third parties that can definitely outspend them in litigation in the event of a dispute. A subscription for bonus content is one of many parts in a diverse revenue stream.

(All that said, this isn’t meant to criticize creators that cant afford to do this type of thing. It took 9 years for CR to get to the point where Beacon is financially feasible and a desirable business decision. They have enough ongoing, popular content to warrant paying for a subscription, and they’ve built sufficient trust with their audience that more will be added. That takes time and an awful lot of money.)

As a final note, I take this step as a sign that CR definitely intends to stick around. This isn’t a move people make when they plan on ending the business after the current campaign. I’m glad to see CR is taking steps to secure their foundation and keep making new content.

I’m sure people will chime in on other issues (cost, content exclusivity, etc.), but I hope my perspective gives an idea of why this sort of thing is good for business generally and why it would be good for CR.

#critical role #beacon.tv #don’t trust me I’m a lawyer #I’m not your lawyer #I’m not CR’s lawyer #none of you paid me for shit #I do what I want

213 notes · View notes

homiesexuallaj · 1 month ago

Text

"Finally"

Pairing: Eric Draven x reader

Genre/Warnings: a slow burn (im so sorry), friend to lovers, fluff, you're Sarah's babysitter, you finding out Eric lore, stray cat! Eric, robbery, a man tried to rob you, knife to the throat, cuts, blood, nurse! Eric, slight angst, murder, subtle flirting, confessing, slightly proofread

A/N: Requested by @lovergrrllllll !! And my request for Eric are still open so if you have an idea then feel free to drop it into my askbox!!

———

You’d been friends with Eric for a few years now. You both had tiptoed into the friendship, unsure of each other due to you being new to the city and not knowing anyone and Eric having trust issues. You two had initially met because you were Sarah’s new babysitter.

Due to Eric being previously dead, Sarah’s mom had lost her babysitter and needed a new one. With a few unwilling or unsuccessful people, you eventually found your way into their lives and took care of Sarah whenever her mom was working, which was whatever time her boss thought she needed to work.

Sarah always dragged you around town, bringing you to arcades or skateparks, music stores or libraries. It was the way you learned your way around the city and met new people, like Eric Draven.

Eric Draven was standoffish at first, so much so you couldn’t really figure out if he liked you. He liked to watch you and Sarah from afar, not really preferring to interact with Sarah’s new friend. But once he figured out that you meant no harm and actually cared for the girl, Eric started warming up.

It was almost like befriending a street cat. Don’t make any sudden movements and let the cat approach you on its own time, even if that means having a slightly awkward six foot sitting distance between you two. But oh well, as long as you two were getting along.

Most of time, you three hung out at at Sarah’s apartment, playing a bit of house with each other. Eric was with you and Sarah more often than not, which you never minded. You usually cooked for the three of you (and made enough for leftovers for a few days), but one day when Eric had beat you to Sarah’s house you found out Eric was quite a good cook and that’s when you two agreed to take turns.

A lot of your guys’ chores/babysitting duties started out that way, when either you or Eric found your certain niche, one of y’all either took over that task or took turns.

It was a domestic friendship between you and Eric, often acting as makeshift parents for Sarah.

Before long, you opened up your apartment as another hang out spot, especially when Sarah’s mom had some company over.

It was easy for Sarah to make herself at home and you often found her lounging on your couch and watching tv. Eric often squeezed himself into the corner and against the arm of your couch, he never looked comfortable. It definitely didn’t help when Sarah took up at least one and a half cushions on her own, which left you smushed between the child and poor, tense Eric.

Soon enough, you apartment became a second home for Sarah. She often came over after school and slept over when her mom was working a late shift. And you were happy to have the child in your apartment, it made it more lively and less quiet. Often, when you cleaned your apartment, you found things of Sarah’s scattered around. You could only shake your head.

It got to the point where you even cleared out a drawer on in your dresser for Sarah so she had a change of clothes or some pajamas. You even had a few personal blankets and pillows for Sarah on your couch and bed. Sarah often slept in your bed with you during sleepovers, which you never minded and was just happy with the company.

Slowly, Eric got comfortable in your apartment. Finally, he chose leave his shoes by the front door and hang up his jacket either over the arm of a couch or on the back of one of your dining room chairs. You were glad that the man finally made himself comfortable at your apartment, even enough to sit on your couch like a normal person and turn whatever he wanted to watch on your tv.

Eric often came over with or after Sarah showed up, taking care of a few Sarah duties if you were busy doing something else. Sometimes he even cooked you three dinner or brought by some takeout. But Eric never stayed too late and you thought he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Which you appreciated but, in your opinion, you didn't think Eric was capable of overstaying. But you wanted Eric to be comfortable, letting him do as he pleased.

Throughout the years, Eric and you became closer. You two hung out more, either with Sarah or one-on-one. You learned about each others’s past (mostly), your hobbies, where you worked, and each other’s quirks. You also learned that Eric lived with this precinct’s police sergeant, and even met him a few times in passing. And as you two got closer, you noticed that a crow was often perched outside your windows or on the gutter of the building you worked at. You had no idea what that was about but enjoyed the company as you walked home and even bought the bird a bird feeder so it was fed.

Eventually, you learned the truth about Eric’s past. As everything had come to light, it had made dots click to together in your brain and made you realize how much Eric and Sarah beat around the bush when talking about the man’s past.

There was a night where you had to close for work and it was plenty past sunset. The orange street lights had lit the sidewalks up enough for you to find your way home, but not enough for the shadows to disappear. You weren’t too nervous about the circumstance, having done this a few times now.

But you found yourself backed against a corner when a man had leapt from one of the darker shadows. He tried to reach around to grab your wallet and keys, but you struggled and fought even as you were pushed the ground. You had only stilled when the strange man was above you, holding a sharp pocket knife to your jugular.

“This could’ve been easy,” The man hissed. “Just a few bucks and you would’ve gotten away with no harm done.”

He’d pressed the knife against your throat more and you felt the sting of your skin being pierced. You grabbed at his wrist, urging the man to stop his motions. You whimpered, not believing this is how you were going to go out.

Suddenly, the man was hoisted from you, but not without the tip of the pocket knife nicking just beside your jugular. You scrambled away, holding your hand up to your leaking wounds, thankfully it was just a trickle.

A second man had appeared, and if it weren’t for the streetlight he was standing under, you would’ve thought that the first man was being held up by a shadow by the back of his shirt.

The second man wore all black, but most of his figure was covered by a long, black trenchcoat. Most of his face was covered by black, wavy hair but a ghostly white face peaked its way through the strands. He held the first man up off the ground by the back of his shirt, practically choking the man out.

The first man, your assailant, managed to choke out an “oh shit” as he tried to kick and claw at the second man. On a whim, your assailant tried to stab at your savior, the second man, but he was merely slapped away.

The knife clanked to the ground, bouncing away in your direction.

“It’s not nice to go after women in the dark,” Your savior growled.

Your assailant could only sputter in response.

Your savior scoffed and dropped the struggling man to the ground. The first man tried to crawl away from the second, but the second man kicked him in the side. Your assailant cried out and curled into a messy ball, clutching his ribs.

“Oh no you don’t,” Your savior growled. “I can’t have you roaming the streets.”

You savior then fished another pocket knife that was clipped to your assailants pants. He flipped it open almost mockingly and held it up against the other man’s neck for a few seconds before speaking again.

“But I can repay the favor,” Your savior said almost too calmly.

He then pressed the blade long-ways into your assailants skin, ignoring the pleas and cries for mercy. As the blade broke skin, your assailant struggled and tried to push away the figure in black. Before he could put up too much of a fight, he drew the blade to the side in a quick motion.

You turned your head before the motion was finished and was left hearing struggling gurgles of breath. You heard something drop and a shuffling accompanying the sounds of gurgles. Then some footsteps coming in your direction. You looked up and backed away as your savior stepped towards you. You were scared of him now. He just killed a man in front of you, for you. How could you not be scared now? You were afraid that you might be next, or something worse.

“Hey, you’re okay,” The man in black tried to comfort you in a familiar voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Above all the shock and fear you were feeling, a flash of familiarity towards your savior lit up in your brain. You observed the stranger.

He had black wavy hair, dripping wet from the downpour of rain that had stopped only moments before you left from work. His cheekbones were prominent and you recognized the kindness swirling in his dark orbs. When you looked down, you could almost swear you recognized the large hands offering you safety up and away from the concrete sidewalk.

And then it clicked.

You did know this man. It was unmistakably your dear friend that helped you babysit Sarah. Eric Draven.

“Eric?” You questioned, still not taking your savior’s outstretched hand.

He seemed surprised that you recognized him in his vigilante makeup and clothes. With widened eyes, he nodded and was unable to speak.

You’d heard about Detroit’s vigilante, mostly through the morning news and your daily newspaper. With all the blurry photos, you could've never guessed it was your friend. It made sense now, why he never stayed late at your apartment with you and Sarah and why you really only saw him after noon.

After the shock subsided, you took Eric’s hand and let him hoist you up from the ground. His tall stature kept you shielded from his dirty work. You didn’t say anything for a few minutes, only staring up at him as you tried to assess your friend and decipher the emotions swirling in his eyes.

"You alright?" The shock seem to have had evaporated from his body in just a few moments, replaced with concern and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"Umm.. Just a bit shaken up," You tell Eric.

Eric hummed, tilting his head a bit as he let go of one of your hands. You kept your head tilted up to look at Eric but watched his hand as it went for your throat. He gently removed your own hand from your throat, which was covered in blood you found out after taking a peak. You felt Eric use his fingers to prod around the small cuts, and you could feel as he wiped away the leaking blood.

"This one here," Eric muttered, poking at your jugular. "Is bleeding quite a bit, which is expected cause this is a sensitive area."

You whimpered and gripped Eric's wrist when he accidentally swiped his thumb across the deeper of the cuts. You looked up at his face again and caught a glance before the man looked back down at your neck.

"Sorry," Eric apologized softly, pulling his hand away. His fingers were covered in fresh blood, making them sticky. "Let's get you home so we can get you patched up."

Eric kept a hand on you the entire walk back to your apartment. You led the way and your friend kept a lookout, glancing around corners and keeping his eye on particularly dark shadows.

It wasn't long before you unlocked your apartment door and led the way in. You left Eric behind in your living room as he milled about, rummaging around a bit. You headed straight to your bathroom and fished the first aid kit from under your skin. You opened the plastic box and rummaged through the box to find your needed supplies. But it was hard to finger through the individual items with one hand, as your other was clasped against your neck to prevent yourself from making a mess.

"I can do that," A hand grabbed the box and slid it away from you.

Eric stood beside you, lacking his long trenchcoat. You could see the holes and and tears that were littered throughout the long-sleeved shirt, of which he had the sleeves pushed up just before his elbows. The shirt hugged his form, showing off his lean but muscular form. Eric didn’t wear too many skin tight clothes, so it was a sight seeing how broad his shoulders were and how narrow his waist was. You couldn’t help but stare as Eric got out his needed supplies, but you broke it when the man looked up at you.

He tore open a small package of singular use alcohol wet cloths and moved your hand away from your throat to wipe away at smeared blood and germs.

“So you’re The Crow,” you started, watching Eric’s face for a reaction.”

The wiping of blood stopped momentarily before resuming as normal.

Eric nodded, “Yes, but I figured you would’ve found out sooner.”

“Why?” You asked.

“Well I am the same Eric Draven from those years ago, and the same from Hangman’s Joke,” Eric explained. “Dead fiancé and all.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, not meaning to bring up a bad past.

“Don’t be,” Eric finished wiping. “I’ve grown and healed from it. Everyone moves on eventually.”

You nodded and watched as the man opened one of the packets for a large bandaid. He tore away the white paper that protected the adhesive edges of the bandaid and moved in to stick it to your neck. Eric was close as he smoothed down the edges. His fingers grazed against your neck as he looked down at you, observing your features.

You could feel your neck and face flush under his gaze. Your eyes flickered between Eric's frantically. He only gazed down at you calmly. He didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, but you were panicky and trying to figure out what exactly Eric was looking for from you. But it was nothing. Eric was simply observing.

After a few moments of frantic heartbeats, Eric pulled away and straightened up to his full height. He turned and latched your little first aid box closed. He almost acted like he didn't send you into a panic over his unprompted staring.

You were both quiet as you cleaned up the bathroom and ventured out into your living room. You both hovered awkwardly, not sure what the next move either of you were going to make.

"Thank you," You said quietly, looking up at Eric.

Moreso here than in the bathroom, you realized just how tall your friend was. He was a good head or so taller than you. It made you nervous for some reason, and you couldn't explain the butterflies that fluttered around in your stomach. Nor the clamminess of your palms.

"You're welcome," Eric responded, just an octave louder than your own voice. "Stay safe at night, alright? Carry some pepper spray or something from now on."

"Alright. I can do that," You turned to grab and hand Eric his coat only to find it was already gone. "Eric-?"

When you turned, Eric was already gone. It was like he wasn't even there. There was no evidence of him really ever being there. You looked around, confused. How can someone just disappear into thin air like that?

A few days past before you saw Sarah again and you told her everything that happened. Like, everything.

Sarah firstly apologized for keeping a pretty big secret from you. She was just worried how you would react, and neither her nor Eric wanted to scare you away. You were just so nice and caring and Eric likes you a lot so they didn't want to scare you away. But then she listened very intently and begged from every detail on hearing that Eric stayed after to help clean you up a bit.

Of course, you answered every and any question the girl had. You could tell she was eating it all up.

At the moment, you were re-stocking some bookshelves at the quiet library you worked at. Sarah followed you around, quietly blabbing your ear off.

"I'm surprised Eric didn't like stay the night afterwards or something," Sarah wondered to herself outloud.

"Why do you say that?" You asked, glancing to the side at the child before resuming your task.

"Cause he really likes you, duh," Sarah said matter-of-factly, like her statement was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You keep saying that," You pointed out. "What do you mean he likes me?"

"Like it's not obvious!" Sarah responded. "C'mon! He walks you home and insists that he bandages you up and like stares at you for a really long time. Eric definitely likes you."

"Oh," Is the only way you can seem to respond.

"Oh," Sarah copied, mocking you.

It's like a whole new door opened before you and suddenly a lot of things made sense.

Moreso recently, Eric had really been spending one-on-one time with you. He'd been visiting your apartment more often, even when Sarah wasn't there. You two occasionally went on walks around your neighborhood and often stopped to get a treat before heading back home. If it was a bit chilly or a windy, Eric was offering you whatever jacket he was wearing that day. If you tried to deny, he would insist and would tell you not to worry about him. To Eric, it wasn't really that cold outside anyway. When Sarah was with you both at your apartment, Eric had almost always decided to sit beside you either at your small dining table or on the couch, and often rested an arm behind you on the couch. And over time, Eric had slowly tested the waters on prolonged physical contact, like a hand on your lower back while squeezing past you or when leading you away from something. There were also the instances of absentmindedly fixing your hair, a hand on your knee, or using the often rainy days as an excuse to squeeze you both under his coat before finding suitable shelter when Eric forgot an umbrella (which was often).

It was all that and more bouts of small things that really added up after Sarah's words.

You couldn't help the heat swelling into your cheeks and the sudden tightness of your chest. Your hands shook a little from a sudden surge of adrenaline as you pushed books back into their spots on the shelves. Sarah's continuous blabbing was drowned out by thoughts and realizations about Eric, about Eric and you.

That night, Sarah and Eric made themselves comfortable in your apartment.

Sarah's mom was working particularly late that night, so Sarah was able to spend the night. She sat on the couch and was watching some cartoon that she found on tv.

It was cold tonight, so you were in the kitchen cooking up a sort of chili. You were content and warm, slightly drowning out the background noise of your apartment. You almost didn't hear the thudding of boots that were walking in your direction. The only thing to completely pull you out of your head was the small touch to the middle of your back. You jumped slightly as the person spoke.

"Smells good," A low voice spoke.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Eric leaning over your shoulder, watching the bubbling liquid of chili. He was so close that a few stray pieces of hair tickled the side of your face.

"Well, it's almost done if you're hungry," You inform him, tapping the spoon you're stirring with against the rim of the pot before setting it aside.

You turn to face the man, who only backs up about half a step and drops his hand from your back. You can tell Eric's slouching just a bit, but he still easily towers over you. You watch as the man observes you and as he brings a hand to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. Heat rushes to your face at the action.

After a few moments of staring, you heard a thick bubble of chili pop behind you, which brought you out of your staring trance.

"Alright, mister," You swatted at Eric playfully. "Out of my kitchen while I finish up."

You urged the tall man back towards your living room and turned when Eric made his way to the couch and joined Sarah. You could hear Eric and Sarah conversing quietly behind you as you finished dinner.

Not before long, you officially finished dinner and everyone dished up. The three of you sat at your small dining room table in view of the tv. Between watching whatever was on, you three talked about what's happened since you last saw each other or stuff you've heard about around town.

After eating, you three migrated to the couch and eventually settled down, fully and happy. Sarah sat in her usual spot against one of the couch's arms and stretched out her legs onto your lap. Her head leaned propped up against a pillow that the kid had placed as a barrier between her head and the arm of the couch. Eric sat on the opposite side of the couch, lacking shoes and his usual jacket. He sat forward but slouched into the couch with one arm bent at the elbow to rest on the arm of the couch and the other thrown across the back cushions. You sat between the two, sitting at a respectable distance from Eric, or as much as Sarah was willing to give you. You sat down into the couch with your head thrown back to rest on the back cushions and Eric's arm, as it was in the way of the cushions but it seemed like neither of you minded your head on his arm.

From your peripherals, you could see Eric looking in your direction. His head was kinked forward a bit, possibly looking past you.

You turned your head, curious at what caught his attention.

Sarah was passed out in her corner. Her arms crossed against her chest and head nestled in between her pillow and the back cushions of the couch. She looked peaceful. Her face lacked the frequent ornery expression that she wore.

You huffed a smile and got back into your original position, getting comfy again.

"I like you, y'know?" Eric stated quietly, voice just above a whisper.

"I know," You think nothing about his statement, forgetting what Sarah told you just hours earlier.

"No, Y/N," Eric saying your name really caught your attention. You turned your head towards him as he continued. "I really like you."

"Oh," You stared at Eric, heat already rushing towards your face and heart speeding up due to nervousness and anticipation. "Really?"

"Yeah," Your friend looked sheepish as he confessed.

"That's...," You paused, choosing your words out carefully amongst your racing thoughts. "I like you too, Eric."

"Really?" He seemed surprised. "Enough to be my girlfriend?"

"Of course, Eric," You tell him. "We hang out like all the time. So, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

Eric's slightly nervous expression shifted into something that was akin to uncontained happiness. He smiled so wide his cheeks almost caused his eyes to squint closed. Using the arm under your head, Eric pulled you close, like super close and into his chest.

You hugged him back the best you could in this position, squeezing him with almost the same amount of strength he squeezed you with.

"This is like.. so cool," Eric whispered loud enough for you to hear.

You shook your head at him, "You're a dork."

You two settled into each other, adjusting so you two could hold each other comfortably. A bit of movement caught your attention and you looked over to see Sarah look at you two with squinted eyes before settling back down.

"Finally," She sighed, pulling a blanket that you had on the back of the couch over herself.

You and Eric laughed quietly at her reaction, trying to stay quiet so the child was able to go back to sleep.

———

Request:

#the crow 1994 #the crow #eric draven #brandon lee #the crow x reader #the crow imagines #eric draven x reader #eric draven imagines #brandon lee x reader #brandon lee imagines

111 notes · View notes

loverofstufflof · 3 months ago

Text

Black Myth: Wukong rant because I’m just… so tired of you people.

I hate the community this game has cultivated. I hate looking through the tags and seeing people tearing each other apart over a game based on a story I love.

There’s two stances:

Those who say that merely interacting with the game is in support of all the terrible things the developers have (allegedly) done. Who parade accusations that many have stated were mistranslated and that the situation is far more complicated than it appears.

Those who mock the former by making a straw man of their concerns while simultaneously displaying their misogyny, racism, homophobia, and general traits that make it clear they’ve never touched a woman in their life.

One is slightly more tolerable than the other. Neither make me feel welcome in enjoying this project I’ve been looking forward to for years.

I will be talking more about purple, because I don’t speak Chinese, and feel that I have no authority speaking too much on orange.

Purple people are beyond insufferable.

I think that most of this came from a Screen Rant review that listed one of the game’s flaws as “a lack of diversity.” This is an accurate analysis, and has been warped beyond belief.

I can understand the outrage… a bit. When playing a game surrounding Chinese culture, in which you play as an inhuman character fighting equally inhuman enemies, it doesn’t make too much sense to request racial representation. And when there isn’t any romance, representation for sexual orientations also wouldn’t work. Including anything in those merit would feel forced and out of place, I agree.

But you wanna know what the reviewer wrote?

She was concerned about the lack of women.

She felt unwelcome when playing a game made by rumoured misogynists because there were no women at all.

And she explicitly said that the game was still enjoyable despite this.

She gave it such a “low score” (3/5) because of the performance issues and repetitiveness. By her own rating, the game was listed as “Worth a shot despite its flaws.”

Everything got so bad they had to take down her name for her safety.

People in the purple category took this review to mean that the “woke left” was “pushing an agenda” and “trying to cancel this game for not having pansexual nonbinary black people.” Which, as I’m sure you can now understand, was not the case. The boycott surrounding this game is purely based on accusations targeted towards the developers, not the game’s content.

Of course, I don’t expect many of the aforementioned people in this category to care too much. I’ve seen the Steam reviews where they praise the lack of women. I’ve read the Reddit threads where they feel grateful that there’s “finally a company who understands the male authority.” I’ve scrolled through post after post on Tumblr that “no one would want to play a game where females jiggle their tits around while doing nothing.”

That last one gets me. It’s really telling what you can learn about a person when they say things like that.

The point is, these people make me feel very unwelcome in a community that previously made me most comfortable.

So let’s recap:

The people who I would find community with are portraying the mere interest in this game as a sin that’s worthy of being blocked and shamed over, and the people who are actually in this community remind me why I’m terrified to walk alone.

I have a lot more that I want to say on this, but I don’t really have the words quite yet, and still need to do a fair amount of research (which I probably won’t be doing because holy shit I’m so done with this). Maybe I’ll come back and add some more, but for now I just might block the tag entirely.

I just feel shitty ‘s’all ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

#this is a cry for help can a normal fan please find this post and mutual me #note that this post is about extremists and if you’re an orange person who’s cautiously enjoying the game despite the drama #I’m still vibing with you #it’s just that apparently the only people in this community are extremists #I also wanna make it clear I’ve been exclusively watching play throughs so I haven’t given a dime to the devs #black myth wukong #why can’t this fandom do silly things. like point out that the acronym is BMW and draw monkeys in cars

96 notes · View notes

dalamjisung · 1 month ago

Text

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 6: Silver linings

genre: FINALLY JUST SOME PURE COMFORT FLUFFFFF

word count: 6151

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: weeks pass you by without much happening and you need to remind yourself: you believe in silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEE! It took me so long to feel like they were ready for this but oh my god, the wait was so worth itttttt! what are you excited about with this chapter? Let me know in the comments! <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments! also, I would love to dedicate this chapter to the lovely @donttrustlove who reads and comments on every chapter I post <3

“We have a few emails coming in for the manager position, do you want to check them out?”

You two are sitting on his kitchen counter like this is the most natural thing to do at two in the morning. Spencer has work the next morning but still insists that it’s fine and that he wants to keep you company. You think he still feels guilty about the fact that, if not for him and his weird connection to Cat, you would have never been put into this tricky of a position. So he makes up for it where he can– he brings dinner whenever he knows he’ll be home late because he knows you’ll be waiting for him to eat; he makes a mean cereal bowl in the morning whenever he has time; he leaves books he knows you are yet to read by the small table next to your armchair because that is now your armchair and he would never steal that away from you.

In your own efforts, you also try to make him feel a bit more comfortable with the reality of everything, and you don’t bug him much to go outside, anymore. You don’t call him all panicked and gasping for air whenever he goes on work trips either, instead choosing to spend those lonely days in the endless company of Penelope. Officer Kaper has gotten better and been cleared to work again, and having him with you whenever Spencer isn’t brings you some sort of comfort and guilt. This man had become a target thanks to you and suddenly, you don’t quite read the fantastical stories of princesses and their faithful knights. The way your stomach weights down whenever they eventually get hurt to protect the fairest lady of the land does not sit right with you anymore– you refuse to believe that romance is hurt and pain for one and comfort and safety for the other.

At this point two weeks had gone by without you even noticing. Suddenly, you jumped from day 9 to day 23 and with the month mark approaching, so is your need for answers. Cat has been silent ever since the attack on Officer Kaper’s house, and so is her partner. For a second, it’s almost like she’s teasing you, like she’s throwing a taste of freedom in your face only to later pull the carpet from right under your feet. Spencer must feel like this too, considering how jittery he has been lately. At this point, you know how to recognise the different gestures of those pretty hands, and the way he fidgets with his fingers while reading War and Peace yet again tells you that he is not, in fact, reading the book, but trying to read himself. You don’t quite understand him fully yet, and that is okay; Spencer has shown you that even if it takes time, he is worth waiting for.

You still don’t know what happened to him, weeks ago, when you two were discussing Josh. You still don’t know what made him choke on his own words or what had his body limp and stripped of energy in your arms, but the truth is that you don’t really care what it was. Not yet. For now, you are just happy that Spencer showed you a side of himself that you had never seen before, and that he has been less… overbearing about your job. Actually, he had been the one that told you to check your emails for applications, suggesting stating the interview process so that you can make a schedule to possibly go back to the store. “Are you serious?” You whispered to him, eyes wide and waiting for Derek to pop out from the kitchen shouting ha! Gotcha!

“Of course,” He smiled and nodded and the rest is history.

The chairs are so close together that your legs brushes against his every time you lean forward to squint at the computer, but at this point, you two don’t even notice it. Cuddling on the couch after a mentally taxing conversation had unlocked new heights for you two, and though he does miss the way your cheeks flushed red whenever your fingers brushed, he prefers how now you just smile, honest and bright, whenever he’s closer than he should be. You don’t know that, but Spencer thinks your spoiling him rotten with these smiles. In your defence, however, smiling at him is just the easiest thing in the world. “Okay, what do we think of this one? His name is–“

“No.”

Your head whips to look at him, eyes wide behind your glasses. “But I didn’t even finish my sentence!”

“There is a weird gap in his resume,” Spence points out with a smug smile. He likes showing off to you, you’ve noticed.

“I can ask him about it during the interview process! Spence, he used to work at–“

“Next.”

You know he won’t budge when he gives you that tight-lipped, dimples-showing smile of his. “My god, you are hard to please,” You grumble and poke him in the stomach with your elbow, already scrolling to the next email.

When you feel his arm falling onto the back of your chair, you lean back a little into his touch, humming to keep yourself awake. “I am not hard to please,” He says easily. “I just won’t accept you hiring mediocre men to do the job you’ve been doing flawlessly.”

The way he emphasises men makes you chuckle. “But a mediocre woman is okay?”

“A bit better,” He admits gruffly, and you laugh. “This one seems promising!”

“Give me time to read, Spencer!” You groan, leaning forward again and nodding while your eyes scan through each line. “Okay, she seems good, Mr. Picky. Studied English Literature, so she’ll obviously have some literary background, has previous experience managing bookshops and cafes, has dealt with stock and suppliers before…” The list goes on and on, and you write her name down on the notebook to your right. That’s where the names Penelope will be running a background check on go, per Spencer’s insistence.

“Wait a second,” Something about the name, so visual and palpable in your little notebook previously filled with facts and memories of Spencer, makes you frown. Why does it sound so familiar?

Abigail Harrison.

“What is it?” He hums, chin once again finding perch on your shoulder. Little by little, you start to think that that is where he belongs, leaning on you, relying on you. “Who is Abigail Harrison?”

“I don’t–“ But then you see it, the address on top of the resume and you hold your breath. “Abigail.”

“Abi– Wait, the new neighbour? That Abigail?” His arms go around you, and now you’re in an awkward angle, half falling off the chair, half leaning on him, but you don’t mind. What you do mind is the uncomfortable, suspicious feeling in your gut. “Oh. That’s fine.”

“You don’t think it’s a weird coincidence?” Turning to look at him, you bit your lip in unsureness.

“Not really– if anything, I think it’s a very logical series of events,” He shrugs and you feel it in your own body. “She clearly has the experience and is obviously looking for a job, so why not one that fits her as an employee and is just a five minute walk across the street?”

As if sensing your worries, Spencer moves, yet again doing the unpredictable and dropping a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Having one thing to worry about it not enough, apparently, so he gives you another one, and now you know for a fact you won’t be able to sleep any time soon. He’s been doing things like this lately, and you think it’s because he’s finally getting used to your presence next to him at almost all hours of the day. His phobia of germs seems to be pushed aside when it comes to your skin, and if he washes his hand right after letting you go, you don’t take it to heart; it’s just who he is. But with cheek kisses and forehead kisses starting a list, this is yet another one for you to tally up– shoulder kisses. All five stars, ten-out-of-ten-would-do-it-again, though you don’t really ask him for them. You just wait. Living with Spencer has taught you patience, amongst many other things, and for him you don’t mind exercising it to its fullest, excited for your list to grow even longer.

“Garcia already ran her name through the database,” He whispers in your ear, hands going up and down your arms in a gesture that tells you he knows you’re nervous. “She’s clean, sweetheart.”

This is new too.

Letting out a strangled noise at the changes that kept on coming, you nod, mind completely shifting focus. “Yeah, okay,” You breathe out, eyes slowly fighting to stay open and not because of the time. “I uh, I’ll reply to her and ask her to come in to the shop for an interview…”

“That sounds great, but it also sounds like it can be done tomorrow when you’re not almost falling asleep,” Oh, sweet, innocent Spencer. Before you can even protest, he shakes his head, smiling like he’s trying to hold it back. “We’re going to bed, Y/N. I have work tomorrow and now, so do you.”

Any and all protests fall disappear from your lips– the prospect of getting to go to work after only being able to keep the store’s website open actually has you excited enough to make you sleepy. The contradictory emotions will surely bit you in the ass when you actually lay down next to Spencer, but you don’t care. You get to open up the shop again and that alone is enough to make you squeak in glee, naked feet thumping through the wooden floor. He always bugs you to put on socks, afraid that you’ll get sick with the cold breeze that manages to push its way in despite the windows being shut, but you like feeling the cold on your soles. It always sends a little zap of life up your body and you enjoy it the same way kids enjoy hopping in the mud despite the mess– it makes you feel alive.

There is a rhythmic routine to how you and Spencer get ready for bed. He brushes his teeth behind you, and you usually wash your face first, so that while he does it, you can braid your hair ready for the night. At first, you didn’t really worry about that because you two did your best to stay in your respective corner of the bed. You tried putting a pillow between you too but after the first time you kicked it off of the bed, you never bring it to the room with you again. Then you tried just paying attention, but that made you lose a significant amount of sleep and you ended up cranky for days. Giving up and accepting that, like it or not, you will end up waking up in Spencer’s arms, legs tangled with his and mouth drooling a little on his shirt, had been the best thing to do to move forward. Now, you two don’t pretend that anything else will happen, and before you’re even asleep, he opens his arms with a grunt, your signal to scoot closer and enjoy your very own space heater of man. “Alright, alright, I’m here,” You mumbled, happy with the way your body is warm but your feet are cold. So cold, in fact, that the moment one brushes up against his, Spencer yelps.

“What the hell was that?” He gasps, eyes going wide in shock.

“What?” You ask, smiling mischievously.

It would be unfair to say that the fear from early in the days has disappeared. It hasn’t– you’re still scared. Sometimes, it tackles you like a football player, abruptly and with so much force that you’re left breathless and immobile for a few minutes. Other times, it creeps up behind you, and you have time to prepare yourself. Despite the sudden appearances, however, your fear has lost that constantness that it had before. It’s duller, to the point that at times it’s just not there at all. And you quite like it, everything considered… it gives you space to breathe. It also gives you space to be– not be anything specific, but just be. And the more you can be, the more your personality starts to come back, peeking through the curtains you had set between yourself and the world.

Spencer always knew you were a playful woman, but this just confirmed it. “Y/N, don’t you–AH! Oh my god, these are death machines! Put some socks on!”

“Never!” You shout before fully pushing your feet against his legs.

Laying there, feeling Spencer squirm underneath you and then going off on some random fact about why it is important to keep your feet warm, is when you remember.

You are a believer in silver linings.

And you believe Spencer might just be yours.

————————————

The shop looked exactly like you had left it, which made you happy and sad at the same time. Took you almost an hour to leave the house that morning, Spencer practically having to drag you away from the mirror with promises that “You look beautiful, Y/N.” Officer Kaper is waiting for you by the door when Spencer drops you off with a kiss to your cheek and hurried steps down the street.

From then on, it’s a frenzy of cleaning. You try to convince Officer Kaper– or Mike, as he told you to call him– that he should sit down and guard the door, but he’s having none of it and instead, carries the not so heavy boxes of brand new books that you ordered as soon as you got news you’d be coming back to work. This is exciting to you, this return to normal, but it also makes you somewhat anxious. Once all of this is resolved– and you’ve taken to thinking about it with the mindset that it is not if it will be resolved, but once it is resolved– what will happen to you and Spencer? Living with him has its perks and the biggest one is that you get to actually see him with some sort of frequency. You get to experience having him in your life instead of just someone who comes and goes as they want. If you go back home, even if just across the street, right above your store he visits everyday… will you still feel this connection you do right now? Will you still get forehead kisses, and sneaky touches of his hand, and his pinky hooking with yours when you pass by?

None of that matters, though, when you hear the bell ringing through the shop. A customer. “Hello!” You call out from the shelves, making your way to the front. A buzz of anxiousness runs through you, though you quickly put it out; there is a literal police office standing guard by the door. You are safe.

You are even safer when you see it’s Abigail, the downstairs neighbour.

“Hi! I’m a little early, I hope that’s alright?”

Oh god. With all the cleaning and organising, you lost track of time. “Oh gosh, yeah, of course!” You say, pulling your hair down from the mess on top of your hair and smoothing it down.

You want to make a good impression on her. Out of all four interviews you have today, you hate to admit that Abigail seems the most fit for the position. Her experience is almost immaculate and her immediate availability is almost too good to be true. In fact, Abigail as a whole, with her warm smile and welcoming aura, seems too good to be true. As much as you believe in silver linings, she just seems like a straight up miracle.

“Please, sit,” Pointing to the foldable chair by the corner of the counter, you smile. “We don’t really have a sitting area yet, but I’m working on it.”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” Abigail’s voice is bright and peppy, and you should like her. You do like her, actually, but even so, you can’t quite ignore the nagging feeling in your gut. “I also brought a copy of my resume in case you didn’t have mine readily available–“

“I have it here, but thank you!” So far she has been nothing but delightful, and to be honest, it’s almost like she is a missing puzzle. The way she fits in the store is almost weird, and maybe is the way she is dressed so similarly to you, or how she looks like someone who would manage a bookshop, all plaid and cardigans and pretty smiles.

Pretty.

Abigail is pretty and that’s when it downs on you that you feel a little jealous. You are not ugly by any means, but the idea that Spencer will go to your store only to look at another woman– a younger, prettier woman– has you holding your breath.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

Snapping out of it, you blush in embarrassment. You’re being crazy and you know it. “Yeah! Sorry, my mind went somewhere else for a second. So uh, why don’t we start with you just telling me a little bit about yourself and what do you want to work here, I guess.” You sound as unsure as you feel, and you suddenly regret saying no to the list of questions Spencer offered to make you.

“Well, we’ve met briefly when I was moving into the building,” She giggles. “But my name is Abigail Harrison, recently moved to Washington D.C. from New York City–“

“I’m from New York!” You exclaim, big smile spreading as you finally place the familiar intonation in her voice.

“No way! Where? I was born and raised in Brooklyn!” And suddenly it all makes sense– her cool nerdiness, her extroverted nature, her ease to fit in. This girl is definitely from Williamsburg.

“Oh, I was raised in the West Village but then moved to uh, Upper East Side,” The memory of moving in with Joshua is an uncomfortable one and makes you immediately change the course of the conversation. Throughout this interaction, you have to remember to be nice, but also serious. You don’t want to give her the impression that this will be an easy job, specially not with how reluctant you already were with hiring someone. “So, why do you want to work here? Besides the close proximity, of course.”

“To be honest, I–“ And there is a pause. It’s not long nor weird, it just sounds like she’s thinking, but Spencer likes to point out your own pauses whenever you try to lie to him about your strategy during nightly backgammon, and it’s become a sort of a bad habit you’ve gotten from him. Squinting, you let her continue. “I just really like the store. I know this sounds a bit ridiculous, but I walk past here every morning, and every morning, I prayed that it would be open. Everything inside looked so… homey. So familiar. And I’ve worked with books my entire life, you know? I thought… it was fate.”

There is a redness in her cheeks that makes you squirm in your seat, nape of your neck suddenly feeling a little clammy. “Fate…” You mumble, nodding while looking down at the blank notebook on your lap. Right now, you are torn– you are trying to understand what is it about Abigail that makes you so hesitant while also fighting against your gut simply because the more she talks about her experience, the more you know she has to be the one.

“…and after almost five years as a manager, I’ve found that I have a really good method of keeping things in order,” She finishes, nodding eagerly for you to show her any reaction.

“That is really good to hear,” You gulp, getting your head back in place. “So just to reiterate, this would be a full time, part time position, of sorts. I would still come in some days in the week, and you would be acting manager whenever I am not here to oversee things. Whenever I am here though, you would be a very welcomed extra pair of hands and company. Believe it or not, we tend to get quite busy during lunch time and it was getting a bit too much to be here by myself.”

“So we’d still work together some days, right?” Her excitement is so clear in her voice that even Officer Kaper turns to pay more attention to you two. “Like, we’d still get to be a uh, a team?”

“Of course,” You say, nodding stiffly and looking at the clock. “I love working in a collaborative environment and I wouldn’t leave you alone in a new job straight away. We’ll start with training days and go from there.”

“That sounds incredible!”

“Yeah…” Looking at Mike– you are doing your best to abide by his wishes and call him by his first name– he gives you a little nod of recognition. “Anyways, do you have any questions for me?” When she shakes her head, you get up and offer her a hand to shake. “I’ll be making a decision by today end of day. I have a couple of other people to interview, but I’ll let you know either way.”

Is it just you or is her hand lingering a little?

“If you don’t call me, I know where to find you,” She says, her little laughter giving out the fact that this is supposed to be a joke. But you don’t laugh. And neither does the armed policeman by your door.

“Ha ha,” You say, trying your best to be nice regardless. “That you do!”

“Your boyfriend is lucky to have you, I bet he gets lots of books for free,” Abigail is a chatterbox, that much is clear, and with every try for a conversation, the more you feel like she’s just digging for gossip. For a minute, you actually think you are back in high school.

“Wha–“

“Or is that not your boyfriend?”

You don’t really know what to do, and it shows. Which is why you’re not surprised at all when Officer Kaper, your one and only hero, steps in. “Sorry to ask, ma’am, I should’ve said something before, but would you mind me checking your ID? We are conducting a security check system for the businesses in this area, there has been a rise in robberies lately and this is just for precaution.”

“Oh my! Of course,” After that, it doesn’t take long for her leave.

There is not even a minute of silence until a customer walks in and you have to slap that fake smile in your face again. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up in a way that makes you a bit too aware of everything, and that, in turn, makes your heart skip a beat. Nervously glancing at Mike, you keep trying to remind yourself that you are safe, that you have someone to protect you. It’s hard to focus on your work when Spencer’s voice echoes in your head making up a list of everything that could go wrong. Your job is very open to the general public. People can easily see inside. You don’t know what they have in their bags. His habit of mouthing off whatever comes to mind is not coming back to bite you in the ass.

“You have a boyfriend?” Officer Kaper’s questions snaps you back to reality.

“Huh? Oh! No!” Shaking your head, you awkwardly lean over the counter to try and ignore the sure blush on your cheeks. “She’s talking about Spencer.”

“She knows Doctor Reid?” It’s clear from his tone that this arises some suspicion in him.

“She just moved into the building and we met her when we were coming out for a second,” You shrug. You don’t want to feed your panic and you also don’t want to leave the man who got injured because of you on edge and scared. Abigail is just a bit taller than you and definitely stronger, with the body of someone who seems to care about her healthy appearance, while you… well, you prefer sitting on your armchair all afternoon with a cup of coffee and a book in your hands. A bit of a cliche, yes, but your life overall was a bit of a cliche, if you think too hard about it. “Spence thought it was better to let her believe whatever.”

“Hm, I’m sure he did,” Mike said with a dramatic wink, wiggling his brows in that suggestive way that makes you chuckle so desperately that he has a hard time not laughing at your reaction. “You know, I think Doctor Reid has a crush on you.”

“Ex-Excuse me?” You sputter out, eyes wide at how easy it is for this man to voice something that has been swimming in your head so insistently.

Spencer having a crush on you is not that wild of a thought, when you think about it objectively. It’s the Proximity Principle. You read about it once back when you were in college and it’s kind of stuck– people are more likely to form close relationships with other people they spend significant amount of time with. Unfortunately, though, you also know that crushes are also dependant on a certain fantastical factor, something that allows humans to project a lot of their needs onto the one that holds their affections. Predicting Spencer’s needs is actually not hard either, and the more he tells you about himself, the more your heart break for the boy that lives inside that man; the one that is afraid of being abandoned, the one that misses his mother dearly, the one sees a family in the coworkers he spends so much time with. You see how you can fulfil this role for him, you’re not blind nor stupid. His smile gives him away, to be very honest, with how bright and big it gets when he notices you waiting for him to get home, sitting in your armchair, reading the book he left for you next to it. Or how he tries to hold it back, that gorgeous, beautiful smile, when he hears you calling his name, all whiny and shy at the same time, to ask him something so ridiculous and out of pocket that he can’t do anything but laugh.

You are the sense of belonging he never had.

The same way that he is the sense of consistency you’ve always craved. Though in your case, you know that he is so much more than that.

In his… well, you will never know until you ask.

And my god, you’re not ready to ask.

“Yeah, a crush,” Officer Kaper shrugs, walking to the counter and smiling like a kid saying something naughty. “He used to talk about you all the time, before all this. The pretty bookseller.”

“Now you’re just enjoying making me squirm,” You say, squinting at him despite how his words make your heart race.

“Maybe I am,” He jokes. “But I’m serious! You two are obviously into each other… right?”

“Officer–“

“Mike, please!”

“Mike,” You sigh with an attitude, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “Are you trying to profile me?”

His silence is enough of an answer to make you gasp.

“It’s not like that–“

“Mike, do you want to be a BAU profiler?!” The way you whisper makes all of this feel like a big secret ever. Your body is leaning over to try and get closer to him, and you’re so excited about knowing this that it makes you bounce a little in your feet. “Why didn’t you say something before? I’m sure Spence would help! You can ask him all the questions and–“

“I already too the FBI entrance exam once and didn’t get in,” He interrupts you with such abruptness that something in the air shifts. This is not fun anymore. It’s tense. “It’s fine. I’m happy doing my part here with the MPD.”

“You are,” You nod. “You really are. Thank you.”

That is the last of the small talk for the day, the next interviewee coming in before you can say another peep.

————————————

“Did you have a good time at the store today?”

This is the first time that you are not the one doing the waiting. Or the cooking. Or– “Did you clean?” You ask, a bit shocked with how spotless the entire place looks even though the air smells like tomato sauce and… something else?

“Why do you say this as something so hard to believe?” Spencer is baffled at your expression, laughing incredulously. “I live here! This is my apartment! I’ve been living by myself since I was 18!”

“I just never seen you clean!” You defend yourself with a lighthearted laughter.

“I’m thirty years old!”

“That just means you’re old,” And you two fall back to the usual teasings while you walk around the living room, dropping your coat and bag on the couch, and moving into the kitchen to help with whatever you can. “Oh my! And you even cooked! Careful Spence, you’re spoiling me… I might just want you to make me dinner everyday from now on.”

Spencer just shrugs with that little shy smile playing on his lips. “I could get used to spoiling you…”

“I could get used to being spoiled,” You mumble, eyes unwavering from his. Letting the tension of the moment grow, you push your hair behind your ears. “Can I help with anything?”

“Not really, I made sure to start it really so it would be ready when you came home,” He says and turns into a ball of excitement that is all limbs and fast words. You love him like this and so you listen, like you’ve been yearning to do all day. He tells you that this is a recipe that Rossi taught him a while ago, and the wine is the exact same one he recommended back then, and just as he says, when you look closely to the busy workspace on the kitchen isle, there they are– two glasses half-full. In a very Spence fashion, he goes on and on about the exactness of the ingredients and how the whole idea that cooking is about ‘feeling it’ is kind of stupid, but the more he talks, the more breathless you find yourself.

There is wine.

There are entrees, and it looks like Spencer did his due diligence, buying your favourite crackers from the deli nearby.

There are main dishes, sides, dessert; and you guess it is some sort of a tiramisu, catching the smudges of chocolate powder and coffee by the sink.

And then there is Spencer. There is Spencer back home early. Spencer wearing his favourite purple sweater. Spencer with his combed hair. Spencer without his phone? Now you are suspicious, looking around with a confused frown on your face.

“Is everything okay?”

“Where is your phone?” His satchel is also not where he usually leaves it, gone from it’s perch by the door.

“My phone?” He asks, sounding as confused as you. “Why do you need my phone?”

“I don’t, I just never seen you without it.”

“Oh,” That makes him laugh. “I don’t need it today.”

“Why not?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N,” Spencer catches you by the shoulder and brings you back to the set dinner. “Just sit down and enjoy this. We finally have some time to spend together.”

“You would never let anything kill me,” You say so easily that it can’t be anything else other than the truth. “Why don’t you need your phone?”

He snorts and turns to mix something in one of his many pans. “Because Hotch and Rossi forbade the team to call me tonight. Derek said he’d be on call instead.”

“That’s awfully nice of Mister Muscles,” You comment offhandedly and there is something about the way you notice Spencer tensing a little that makes your smirk.

“He has a girlfriend, you know.”

“Oh, I know– I heard it all from his baby girl, who is not his girlfriend, but is a big fan of that couple,” You say, happily smiling while munching on a cracker. “Why?”

“Just checking if you knew. A lot of girls are usually… taken… by Derek’s looks and charms, but he’s off the market now. I think Savannah is here to stay.”

Crinkling your nose at the though of dating Agent Derek Morgan, you quickly shake your head. “God, no, I’m not– No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is objectively handsome, but he’s not my type.”

“Are we talking about the same Derek Morgan?” He scoffs without turning to you. “He is everyone’s type…”

“Not mine,” You repeat, silently getting up from where you sway your feet. With muted steps, you walk around the kitchen isle to stand behind him, fidgeting with your hands in a moment of unsureness.

Maybe you are reading this wrong. Not every man that does a nice gesture is interested in you, you know that mainly because you never really believe people are interested in you at all, but it’s getting progressively hard to not look at everything he had done for you and not think it is a date.

Before you can overthink this, Spencer is moving backwards. “Oh? What is your type, then– oh fuck!” Your arms go around his waist as soon as he bumps into you, and you don’t let him squirm away, even though he tries. “Y/N, wha-what are you doing…?”

Gently, you let your head fall onto his back, forehead pressing close to his nape. Silence reigns until you are ready to speak, but Spencer waits, tense and oh so patient. “Spencer,” You whisper with your broken voice, nerves getting the best of you and making you shake like a chihuahua. “Spencer, is this–“

Sweet as ever, his hand moves from the counter, where his knuckles are white with how hard he grips it, to a slow touch to your hand. Brushing his fingers overs your skin, he whispers back. “Is this what?”

“Spencer is this a…” Why can’t you bring yourself to say it?

Around you, there is noise. You hear the neighbours upstairs, the click-clack of their shoes echoing until they are gone. You hear the heater pipes reading themselves to work through the night once again. You hear the food in front of you two bubbling and sizzling. And my god, do you hear him… you hear his heart, beating, racing, so strong and fast, that you smile to yourself. This is all Spencer– every noise, every shake, every thump and thud of that amazing, loving heart of his.

“It is.”

Your arms squeeze around him in shock. “I didn’t even say it.”

“By now, you should know you don’t have to,” The soft cadence of his perfect pronunciation tells you that he is feeling confident and calm, and you bask in it for a second or two. Until he hits you with the million dollar question. “If Morgan is not your type, who is?”

“I want to say it, though.”

“Who is your type?”

It’s a weird battle of stubbornness between you two, but you don’t mind. You would fight this war forever, if it meant this– feeling him alive and breathing and laughing. “Let me say it,” You ask, smiling coyly even though he can’t see it. “Please.” His adorable little laughter sends a wave of ripples down his back and you press your face closer to feel it. “Say it then.”

“Spencer Reid, is this a date?”

“I was hoping it would be,” He says and pauses. “Y/N Y/L/N, am I your type?”

“I don’t really have a type,” You say slowly, pulling back a little to nudge him to turn around. You only smile when you see his eyes– those curious, curious eyes– that constantly look for answers for his questions. Sometimes, you don’t have answers, but he looks for them anyways. First in one, then the other. Spencer looks at you carefully, slowly, like you are something worth committing to that memory of his by the detail. Like he wants to remember you even when he closes his eyes. You see it, how you make him feel like he belongs, with your open smiles and blinking eyes. But you also see, for the first time, how you are also so much more. “But if I did, it would be you.”

You are a believer in silver linings.

And yes, Spencer might just be yours… specially with the way his lips feel against yours.

---------------------------------------

Taglist:

@fanfic-viewer

@mysticpeachobject

@donttrustlove

@r-3dlips

@lolitsbuckybarnes

@lilrios-world

@iniyalovesall

@beabfleab

@dojacatismywife

@queenofshinigamis

@beersangel

@catchthewindd

@charismatic-writer

@freaky-dcaky

@scarlettoh

@drreidslove

@spicyytomatoyay

@kitty-kei

@sapphirecobalt-1

@jebesovovise

@cultish-corner

@areiofhope

@candid-confetti

@godilovetoomuch

@redros3y

@gibson-g1rl

@bunnylov-3-r

@yokaimoon

@glorioussunrise13

@idkimheretoreadonethibgofpsencdd

@pleasantwitchgarden

@issy25

@ilovechanyeol16

@gghostwriter

@stanswifties

@chicaconfundidaycuriosa

@dragon03138

@tbsloneely

@bloodredrubyrose

@rossemayme

@jackchampiongf13

@prentissmybeloved

@danielle-munya

@eliscannotdance

@keira-fitzsimmons

@jamieeboulos

@starofthedawn

@alikpo

@writingforoursouls

@marauder--harder

@spencers-love

126 notes · View notes

thatanimeramenchick · 10 months ago

Note

Headcanons for Vox and Alastor both falling in love with an extremely powerful Overlord known as the Pink Death, she is called that because she's thought of as an incurable plague that consumes and annihilates everything she comes into contact with and she's a Pink Bunny demon and she's so powerful all the other Overlords, even Zestial are terrified of her, since when she arrived in Hell, she killed every Overlord that existed in that time and took their powers?

Incredibly Powerful Reader

Since this is a yandere blog, this will be done with that in perspective.

I also want to do this with the mindset that it is impossible to technically permanently kill other demons without angelic weapons. It is true that Alastor has made other demon overlords “disappear,” but I feel like it’s implied that he has somehow destroyed them in a way that is much worse than death, perhaps in a horrific existence in between realities? I don’t know. Anyway, I feel like the killing people with diseases temporarily and being a major threat is still an interesting view though. The complete toll you could have on demon and sinner society by wiping them out in waves whenever you felt like it would give you a lot of power in hell.

Anyway, when it comes to the guys, I see them actually sharing quite a few things at first.

Both of them would hope that their experience and ability to play manipulation games would allow for them to outsmart you, even if you are significantly more powerful than they are. Whether they actually do or not depends on you and your personality, but I could see them getting the upper hand if you’re not careful, especially Alastor.

Both of them also would hope to win you into a contract that allows them to have you under the thumb, but they would present it as giving you a power boost to help you clinch full power over hell. The details of this contract and their way of going about it will differ, but ultimately that is the goal each of them would have.

Vox

Media thrives on disaster. You’ve created a gold mine of content for this man. His interest in you would simply start out as using your story to promote his own company, and it would later turn into an obsession. Considering how the Vees are able to stay safe during extermination day through extreme isolation, I don’t think he would be too worried about the infection for similar reasons, simply being annoyed that it’s hurting the company as it’s messing with staff and therefore production.

If you decide to reject him, he can paint your powers to his advantage, threatening to use the media to paint you as a monster that hell needs to rally against at any cost. On the other hand, he could offer you a sweet deal if you want to get along nicely with him. He could make sure that everyone knows you’re the most powerful overlord in hell and that you should be respected and admired as well as feared. This is when the contract comes in, where he gets to portray you how you’d like as well as provide comfy living arrangements as long as you are willing to work alongside his company and only his company. He’ll make sure you’re on a higher position in the company than the underlings, considering how much power you have. Oh, and he’ll add a little clause that you’re not to turn your nasty tricks on him either.

Alastor

Alastor is more cautious than Vox is. While I see Vox as going the direct approach with you and a clear plan of aggression, Alastor would take his time, watching you from the shadows. He would want to get a clear idea of your personality and all its strengths and weaknesses before approaching you. Last thing he would want to do is simply irritate you.

I feel like his approach to you would be somewhat similar to how I think he is approaching Charlie. You are young and so perfectly easy to influence. Your potential is overflowing, surely you don’t want to waste it? If are just willing to submit to his ideals, he could make you the greatest overlord of all time, as well as gain total control of hell. The contract would be along similar lines. He would not rush the business like Vox would. He doesn’t want you to think he simply wants to use your powers after all. You have to feel like you’re giving in willingly because it benefits the both of you.

He would be subtle in his affection. He would make it seem like a business contract, but as you got entangled deeper and deeper in a mess you would come to see that he has a much more possessive and controlling relationship with you than you first thought. The details of the contract that at first seemed to exist to gain you some extra experience and security now seem like chains keeping you attached to a master has no intention of ever letting you become independent in your own right.

#yandere x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #vox #yandere alastor #yandere vox

247 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 9 months ago

Note

If you’re still open for prompts, can we get Tav to bring Astarion for shopping, claiming she has no fashion sense, but in truth it’s to make him buy something for himself?

I don’t know if you’ve seen the free cam screenshots, but the inside of Astarion’s test is bleak and messy, and in the lower city camp he’s hanging filthy rags to dry above his tent, like he’s so used to only focusing on his outerwear that he forgot he can actually get himself some nice towels and bedding for personal use.

notes: what a sweet request! i get so many lovely requests for astarion and it's what he deserves tbh.

words: <1k

rating: T

“I’m not sure why you need me to come with you. Apart from because you’re in need of my stellar company, of course,” Astarion sniffs.

“Well, you have the best taste in camp, and I trust you with this sort of thing. Besides, what were you really planning on doing today apart from irritating Gale?”

Astarion makes a show of putting in a bookmark and slamming his novel closed, looking up properly at where you’ve wandered over to him. He pretends to be a bit irked, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the words in front of him anyway - he was too busy sneaking glances up at you as you helped out around the camp. It’s something he’s been doing a lot recently. His eyes are drawn to you. He is drawn to you. Magnetised.

But that is far too raw-hearted and personal for you to know, so he’s desperately trying to hide his weakness for you beneath a layer of palette-knifed-on apathy. He suspects it isn’t working.

“Come on,” you continue, your pleading too sweet to be ignored, “it won’t take long. I just need to get a couple of bits for my tent, you know, to spruce it up. Please?”

Astarion groans. Secretly, he doesn’t mind. He’d quite enjoy it, actually. But if you know that then you suddenly have power over him, and the idea of letting someone have power over him again, even if it’s you, scares the unlife out of him.

Still, though. When your eyes are buttery-soft and there’s that furrow in your brow which comes with your sincere confusion, he feels his walls being shattered.

“Fine,” he groans, dramatically, “I suppose you do need some help picking out nice things. Let’s head off, then.”

He tries to ignore the way that his heart does a silly little leap when you light up at the idea.

And so, Astarion lets you drag him into Baldur’s Gate. He is once again overwhelmed with how much he missed the city - not during the times with Cazador, of course, but back in his youth, when he was able to stroll about and shop like this under his own free will. When he had a magistrate’s salary and a healthy portion of it could go on things like this, frivolous and fine things. Maybe he is a little bitter at first as you take him store-to-store, but he soon finds himself relaxing into the joy of a spree; when your hand tangles with his he lets you lead him around, quietly revelling in your delight as you leaf through linens and silks.

Your day together becomes a chorus of, “this one or this one?” holding up bedsheets for him to help you decide between, letting him make a lengthy decision as he tests threadcounts against his alabaster fingers. He helps you pick blankets, new soft towels for when you’re able to bathe (a luxury at the moment, but still…) some sweet-scented candles and incense for your tent to cover the smell of dirt caked into you all.

He suggests lavender. It’s his favourite.

At the end of the day he watches you count out gold onto the final merchant’s counter before taking a heavy woven tote full of your purchases. It feels like a satisfying venture has been had, but he still feels a bit hollow - after all, your hands are full, and his are achingly empty.

You stop when you clear the doorway back onto the street, and hold the bags to him.

“What? I’m not carrying your things for you. I’m not Karlach!” he says, appalled. You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m not making you my pack mule, Astarion. I doubt you could be - ” he’s about to interject and bite back at that little jab, but you barrel on regardless, “ - they’re a gift. This is all for you.”

He freezes. Blinks. Eyes drop down to the shopping as if it’s a Mimic, waiting for him to let his guard down so that it can eat his arm.

“All for me?”

You nod, and when he doesn’t move to take the handles, you gently open up his fingers like the petals of a flower and deposit them into his palm instead.

He feels the weight of the new things. Of his new things. He doesn’t know how to respond. His brain feels blank.

“I have money, you know,” he says, partly defending himself against your kindness, and partly against the idea that you might think he’s in need of charity. You sigh and cross your arms, a sure sign of not taking any of his nonsense right now.

“I know, and I am perfectly capable of giving you a gift because I think you deserve one. There is no trick here, Astarion. I just thought you should have a couple of new bits because you barely buy them for yourself. You’re allowed to have nice things, you know.”

Ah. That hurts him a bit, not because you’re being unkind, but because maybe you’re being truthful. His hands became used to a needle and thread by candlelight, to tiny neat stitches done with such precision it was difficult to notice that anything he mended was ever damaged at all. But he does not live that life any more. He can open himself to the possibility of being pampered again.

He likes that idea.

He retracts his arms, clutching the shopping to his body, as if he’s afraid that you’ll change your mind. You smile at him so brightly that he feels as if you are the sun.

“...Thank you,” he manages, eventually.

“Any time,” you say, and he knows you mean that.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @hopeful-n-sad

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #request #my writing

377 notes · View notes

pinkroseblooms · 9 months ago

Text

Boy Toy, Pt.2

Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader

Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!

Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?

Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex.

“You smell so good.”

“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”

After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?”

“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”

“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”

“You hate going out more than I do.”

“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”

“That’s my girl.”

One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with.

“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”

“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”

“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”

“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”

“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”

“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”

“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”

You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”

“Which dress would you wear?”

“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”

“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”

“We’re meeting at his place.”

“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.

“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”

You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle.

“How long have you known him?”

You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”

“Good looking?”

“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”

Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile.

“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”

“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”

“Sure sounds like you know him well.”

“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”

Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.

When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze.

It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.

Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”

“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”

“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”

You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”

“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”

Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.

“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”

Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”

Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.

Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone?

“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different.

“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.”

“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”

“Toji, I just got this!”

“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”

You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.

“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”

“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”

“Guess you need to train me better.”

Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties.

“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”

“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”

“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”

“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”

You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.

“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”

But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall.

“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”

“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”

“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”

“Wha-what are you…?”

“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”

“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”

“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”

“No!”

“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”

“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”

“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”

“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”

“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”

“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”

Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought.

You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act?

“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”

“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”

“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”

“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.

“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”

“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”

Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile.

“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”

Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop.

“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.”

Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.

“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”

“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”

“Good…good boy…”

With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first.

It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.

“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you. “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”

229 notes · View notes