#cleavage hacks

[gremlingottoosilly]

Hope you're doing alright. Just wanted to send in an ask for computer nerd!König with a smug reader who thinks it's funny to ask him "where's the sex drive" every time he fixes a PC?

Konig has half a mind just bending you over the computer desk, tying you up with some loose cords, and then fucking you like there is no tomorrow. Maybe he is slapping you with a loose ethernet connector you had hanging out of the wall ever since he fixed the wifi in your dorm room and allowed you to slump over your shittily made bed with a laptop. He does too much for a girl that won't ever let him fuck her - and yet, he can't help but desire being in your presence. Loving each second of your company, even as you just made him some overly sweet tea and ask in your sing-song voice what he wants to have for takeout. You're not dating, but he fixes your computer from time to time and that should mean something. You're not dating, but you bend over his shoulder whenever he fixes your computer and ask dumb questions. Some of them are to just rile him up - some of them just to get his attention so he'd take a look at your cleavage and give himself some jerk off material for the next week. You never thought too much of it - Konig is a nerd, and a loser, but he is a useful and quiet one. You could handle sitting on his lap and asking him about different monitors. Maybe trashing your computer with some old porn hacks that made him blush as he was cleaning it up. It wasn't surprising when he finally got enough and pushed you on your knees, making you choke on his cock while he was trying to unbrick your driver from the amount of trash you piled in it. He should have done it a while ago - your jokes are much more tolerable when muffled with his cock, and your expression is much cuter when he can force you to whimper and mumble as you come from just the feeling of his cock alone.

[msgexymunson]

Life Hack

Description: Maybe Eddie will finally get the message that you do like him when you show him a little bra life hack. 

A/N: what can I say, this was rattling in my head when I showed my partner how to undo a bra one handed and I couldn't help but think of Eddie (because he lives in my brain now and refuses to leave.) If you enjoy it please comment and reblog my sweethearts!

Warnings: NSFW, minor DNI (here there be nipples) fem slightly dom reader, Eddie is an idiot, boob play, dry humping

Masterlist 

1.5k words

You walk into Eddie's room with freshly brushed teeth, wearing a stolen t-shirt of his, the Iron Maiden one with the bleach stains that has become your favourite, and some tiny sleep shorts. Eddie's already sprawled on the bed in a pair of pyjama pants, one arm slung under his head, the other holding half a joint over the full ashtray. 

Fuck, he isn't making this easy. 

His slim toned physique, his tattoos, his happy trail. It's all making your mouth water with anticipation for something that doesn't seem possible. Try as you might to entice him, Eddie's not getting the message. You've been dying for Eddie to take the leap, to move your relationship out of the friendship zone but either he doesn't like you that way or he really is an idiot. 

One minute he's flirting, the next he's punching you on the arm and play fighting with you like you're his kid sister or something. It really makes you wonder how he lost his virginity in the first place.

"You want some of this?" 

"Huh?" You ask just a little too loudly. 

"This," he says, waving the joint at you and smirking.  

"Oh, sure, gimme- oh goddamn!" As you reach out you feel a twang and a pain digging into your side. 

"What the hell just happened?" Eddie asks, looking confused. 

"It's nothing Eds, just my bra rebelling" you laugh, wriggling uncomfortably. 

"You can, erm, take it off… you know, if it makes you more comfortable." He's blushing, you swear you see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Maybe he does like you? The thought places your heart firmly in your throat.

Reaching behind you, you expertly flick your bra open and start manoeuvring the shirt sleeves so you can take it off. Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor, eyes bugging out like a cartoon. 

"It's undone? Just like that?" 

You laugh at the face he's pulling, until you have a light bulb moment. 

"Do you want me to teach you?" 

"What?" If Eddie's eyes could get wider, they somehow do, taking over his face like an anime character. 

"I could teach you how to do it, if you want. It's like a life hack, you know? I really don't mind." 

Eddie looks in turmoil for a minute. Maybe you crossed a line. Until you hear his response. 

"Oh, erm… OK?" 

Reaching around to clip your bra back in place, you wriggle everything in position. 

"Give me some of that first" you say, wiggling your fingers at him. He wordlessly passes the joint to you and you take a deep drag, blowing smoke upwards. It helps to calm your nerves a little. Taking another, blowing smoke, and passing it back to him, he takes it to finish it off, stubbing it out in the ashtray. He looks panicked, moving the ashtray off of the bed, clearing the bed of debris, like this was going to be some complicated mission. 

Right, it's now or never. Maybe he'll finally get the fucking hint. 

Taking a deep breath, you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. The bra is nothing special really, just a black cotton one, tiny bow situated between your breasts. 

Eddie's mouth opens and closes at the sight, gaping like a moron at your exposed cleavage. Moving over to the bed, you straddle him, backwards. 

"Right, so if you look, it's real easy." You move one hand behind your back, pushing your thumb into the hook part, and flick the bra undone with your index finger. You're not sure if you hear a gasp or if you're just imagining it.

"See? Easy." You clip it back into position and risk a glance over your shoulder. Eddie's face is glowing scarlet. It's the only sign he's giving you, so you're willing to take it as a good one. 

"Wanna try?" 

"Yeah-" his voice starts, impossibly high pitched, until he coughs and continues, much lower, "-Sure thing." 

You feel one hand at your hip, on your exposed skin. The touch you've been craving. It shoots to your core unexpectedly, making you so grateful Eddie can't see your face right now. The other hand starts shakily fumbling with the catch until he gets it. 

"See? Simple. OK," you do it back up, and swivel around, your heat pressed against him. The feel of him underneath you has your head reeling, imagining all sorts of depraved situations, but you reign it in. 

"You wanna try from this way?" 

"Uh huh." He's responding, but his eyes are glued to your chest. 

"Eddie…?" 

Snapping his head up, he almost looks guilty. 

"Yeah, sure." 

"So, sit up a bit, reach around." You beckon him with your fingers so he pulls himself upright, face suddenly so close to yours you feel his breath on your cheek. 

"So… thumb and forefinger, yeah?" 

Eddie's eyes dart to your lips and back up. 

"Yeah." He reaches, pulling you close for a minute, forcing air out of your lungs. Maybe this was a bad idea. It's getting difficult to breathe. Trying to calm yourself, you settle for staring at Eddie's ear. 

He's fumbling, but after a while he gets it. You feel the sudden free feeling. He looks up at you with his eyes all lit up like a dog that just learned a new trick. 

"I did it!" 

"Sure did. You wanna practise again?"

"Yeah sure." 

Once again, you put it back in position. This time, Eddie barely fumbles and flicks it off in one fluid motion. 

"See? Easy! Well done!" Genuinely pleased that you actually taught the boy something, you look him in the eyes for the first time since you decided to make this risky move. 

His usually beautiful amber brown eyes are dark, dipped in desire. He's breathing heavy, large palms coming to rest on your waist. But he's still not making a move. 

Fuck it. 

"You wanna see them?" You ask, praying you're reading him right. 

"...did you just say… what I think you just did?" 

You slowly slip the straps down your arms and peel the bra off, dropping it to the side. Your nipples, happy to be finally free, perk up at the air around them. Goosebumps run over your exposed flesh. 

"Holyfuckingshit!"

It comes out in one breath. Eddie's gawking gaze darts between your naked breasts; awe, shock and panic are fighting for dominance in his eyes. 

"Eddie." 

No response. 

"Eddie!" 

"Huh?" 

You cradle his jaw with one hand and his eyes finally look at you. Unable to wait for a second longer, you press your lips against his. 

It's like a switch is finally flipped in Eddie's brain. He pushes his tongue in your mouth immediately, swiping at yours with such urgency it shocks you. His hand is pushing into the small of your back, guiding you to grind over the hard bulge in his pants. 

The other hand finds your breast, squeezing at it. His thumb runs over your nibble, flicking at the hardened nub, sending tingles through your nerves and up your spine.  

When he breaks from your kiss and starts mouthing at your neck, you tell him finally, words spilling from slick, kiss bitten lips. 

"I was wondering when you'd get the fucking message Eddie." 

You run your fingernails through his hair making him groan into your neck.

"The hell," he breathes, mouth dragging down to your chest, "didn't think you, you liked me like that." 

"You're a fucking idiot Eds, been trying to flirt with you for weeks- oh God!" 

His tongue starts running around your nipple, shocking you out of your reprimand. Moans replace words as he sucks at your nipple, making you rub against him faster. Your clit is begging for more attention and Eddie's happy to oblige, forcing you against him, hard. 

The friction is building up; body buzzing with desire all the way to the tips of your toes. Eddie's desperately tonguing at your nipple, breath whistling through his nose hotly as he's whining in his throat. 

"Eddie, fuck, I'm gonna come!" You're gripping his biceps urgently, rocking against him with all the power you have. Your warning just pushes him further, sucking at your skin and moaning with you. 

Your release flows from you in an intense flash of white light as your fingernails dig into Eddie, holding on for all your worth, chest heaving with heavy pants. 

Eddie groans just as loudly as you as your hips finally stutter to a halt. He looks like he's had a religious experience, staring at you with hearts in his eyes. 

"Eds, did you just cum-" 

"Yup," he says, popping the P loudly, looking almost proud. His grin is reaching almost from ear to ear. This version of Eddie, the idiot, the one you fell for, is in front of you again. 

"So, you do like me then?" 

"Sweetheart, I think you're incredible, I just didn't think you saw me like that." He says, hands rubbing up and down your sides. 

"You're really stupid Eddie." 

"You're probably right" He smiles, eyes glancing back down to your chest. 

"So, do I get to see the rest?" 

No real tag list, just adding some likely people ;)

@lunatictardis @lightvixxen @roanniom @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiesprincess86 @munson-blurbs @wroteclassicaly @loveshotzz

[sserasin]

thinking abt toxic ex bf!yeonjun….

toxic ex!yeonjun

cw nsfw under cut, noncon, dubcon, female reader, jealousy, degrading names, brief mention of revenge porn, manipulation, dacryphilia, fingering (reader receiving)

toxic ex!yeonjun is so much worse than a toxic fwb!yeonjun cause he’s already had a taste of you, and he’s quite literally obsessed.

ex!yeonjun who can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else, and he knows he should let it go. but he loves you too damn much.

ex!yeonjun who gets pissed and jealous no matter who you’re talking to. it could be your best friend for years and he’d send you a stupid ass text talking about how you were moving on too fast, that you were a dirty whore who was good for nothing other than being a cumdump.

ex!yeonjun who retaliates by sending the nudes you sent him to his friends, his teammates, spreading them across school. it lowers your reputation and thus, getting rid of a lot of competition for him. but then he ends up regretting it because now his teammates are talking about how hot your body is and how easy it would be to fuck you.

ex!yeonjun ex!yeonjun was a perfect boyfriend, and he’s an even better manipulator. he lies and tells you that his icloud was hacked. and you, so desperate to cling to anyone you have left, stupidly believe him.

ex!yeonjun who soothes your cries, holding you in his arms and wipes your tears away. but he’s always had a thing for making you cry, and even out of sex, you’re just so goddamn beautiful crying— he can’t help that his cock hardens at the sight of the tears.

ex!yeonjun who whispers promises of making you feel better, showing you that you don’t deserve those scum sending you anonymous hate messages, as his lips trail down your neck and to your cleavage.

ex!yeonjun sneaks a hand in your pants, collecting your juices with his fingers before mercilessly pushing two of his fingers on, muffling your gasp with his mouth. “just, be a good girl for me,” yeonjun murmurs. the painful intrusion of his fingers lessen as he quickly finds your g-spot, ramming his fingers into the spot and curling them.

ex!yeonjun whose lips curl into a brief wicked smile as he watches you pant from your orgasm, licking his fingers clean. your fingers curl around his wrist, stopping him from moving (as if he was going to) and look up at him with wet eyelashes and pretty eyes, “i want more.”

ex!yeonjun who pushes you down on your bed, pulling your pants off fully, saying, “yeah? you always just want more and more, huh?” his words don’t exactly make sense, but your brain is too fogged over with sex, sex, and sex that you don’t care. you just want whatever he can give you. “i’ll give you what you want,” he only pulls his cock out, sliding it through your folds teasingly.

ex!yeonjun who grins when you beg, raising a hand to your neck to hold you there, “say you love me.” you blink, saying it without hesitation. “good girl,” he presses all of himself in you, cutting off your moan. he hisses, “fu—fuck, you’re such a good— hole. always so tight for me.”

ex!yeonjun who demands to know who else you’ve fucked or had any bit of a situationship with while you were broken up in the middle of sex. “what was his na— fuck, name?” “how far did you go?” and when you question him, “because it fuckin’ matters. tell me.” only gives you an orgasm when you agree to block the person, and definitely watches you block them after you’ve finished.

ex!yeonjun who doesn’t stop there, isolating you from your remaining friends and family. tells you lies about them, that they’ve been talking about you behind your back. convinces you not to confront them and simply block and ignore. they don’t deserve your time. somehow always leads up to sex, or he’s saying that shit during sex ‘cause he knows that’s when you’re most compliant— split on his cock.

ex!yeonjun will probably never reveal his true colors until you somehow find out— but he won’t let that happen. he’s got you wrapped around his finger, with no one to turn to.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply. 

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her. 

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct. 

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.” 

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.” 

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension. 

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn��t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window. 

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled. 

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

Part two || Series masterlist

[tangocardiaca]

Everyone in Hyakkao Private Academy knew that Midari was insane when it went to gambling. It was not about the money, she only accepted life and death ones. But this time she overdid it. Midara was not seen at school from the very morning. As students were worried, that something happened to her, Sayaka from student council told Yumeko and Ryota to search for her. Yumeko hated Midari, but she accepted the request. She went to dorm to Midari's room, but it was locked. She used the bobby pin to use it as a lockpick. When she entered Midari's room, she couldn't believe it. Midari was lying on her bed with her midriff and cleavage exposed and AED pads hooked to her chest. "How is this possible? AEDs shouldn't shock you when your heart beats regularly." She noticed that AED was hooked to another device. Midari hacked AED so it could shock her, when the random pre-set number was drawn. It was like a russian roulette but with defibrillator. Yumeko was furious. "I knew you were stupid and crazy but now you have done it." She unhooked the AED from device. "But even if I hate you, even you don't deserve to die." She called Ryota and told him to call for an ambulance and bring Sayaka, because situation is really dangerous. She gave two rescue breaths to Midari and started doing chest compressions. "I only hope the defibrillator can shock her now, when I unplugged it". - she thought while giving her pushing her chest. She tried turning off and on the AED and it said "Analyzing heart rhythm, do not touch the patient" Yumeko stood away from Midari. "Shock advised. Charging, stand clear" A loud beeping sound filled the room. "Stand clear. Push shock button." When Yumeko pressed the shock button, Midari's body shook and Yumeko checked pulse on Midari's neck. There was no pulse. Yumeko was relieved, that AED worked correctly. She continued CPR. While Yumeko was resuming, Midari's eyes faintly opened and she started gasping for air. Those were not normal breaths. Also her arms were moving strangely. "Is she coming back?" Yumeko stopped compressions and tried to reach Midari, but soon after she stopped, Midari's eyes closed again. "Damn, it's not enough". Yumeko continued CPR. Another shock was ready, so Yumeko stood away once again. During second shock, Midari's chest jumped violently. After Yumeko checked, that there was no pulse, she continued CPR, but deep inside she was afraid it was hopeless situation. Yumeko said - "I hope you survive. I hope you survive, because I want to yell a lecture in your face." Post scriptum: Kakegurui is still yet to be continued, but secretly I hope that there will be a scene where Midari is shocked by AED(no nudity of course). That would be totally fitting for her character.

[redvexillum]

A/N: I didn't anticipate writing a Vox x Reader story (much less a raunchy, BDSM theme smut). But, I needed to get this idea out of my head so I can focus on my request and my other stories. So, here we are. Also, I've noticed there is a distressingly low number of PURE Vox x Reader stories, so I wanted to contribute to the database.

Though, I apologize if my version of Vox is lacking in any way. I have made many creative liberties with my head canon version of him.

Inspired by this post/conversation with the lovely miss @redfoxwritesstuff

07.09.24 - Now that I know where I'm going with this story, I have changed the title from [Short Fuse] to Signal.

SUMMARY: You royally pissed someone off because you were receiving anonymous hate emails for the past fifteen years. How incredibly petty and...entertaining. At first, you decided to ignore them but as their hate comments got increasingly creative, the more you couldn't help but add oil to the burning, passionate flame of their hatred towards you.

Until one day, the mysterious anonymous hater (probably) accidentally revealed themselves to be the one and only TV demon, an Overlord and CEO of everything technological and modern.

WARNING/TAGS: f!reader, toxic relationship, enemies to f*ck buddies to something indescribable, dom/sub undertone, sub!Vox, dom!reader, reader is a responsible dom, Vox takes a lot of L's but he secretly enjoys it, dual POV, Vox tries to be hip but ends up being a boomer, Reader is sexually liberal and confident, Vox is the brattiest sub you will ever find, kind of fluff if your squint

“Hello, my Sexy Peeps! How are you doing on this hellish day?” A melodious burst of laughter chimed from Vox’s phone. He took a dramatic sip from his coffee, savouring the rich, dark brew, and settled into his plush armchair, preparing to lose himself in her latest video.  

“Today, I thought I’d mix things up a bit due to a very popular request!” She continued and leaned forward in front of the camera, giving Vox a generous view of her cleavage. He approved her outfit choice for today, a tight-fitting cyan blue tank top with a plunging v-neckline.  

But aside from her attire, he was interested by her supposedly “new” content. He didn’t know she took requests from her viewers. Intrigued, he arched an eyebrow, setting his cup down on the side table and leaning his face closer to his phone.  

The newest online sensation on VoxTube was about to begin. This girl had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, drawing tens of thousands of views and subscribers to her channel. Her retention rates were astoundingly high for content so banal and ordinary. Initially, Vox had suspected his network had been hacked.  

He still couldn’t quite grasp how in seven layers of Hell she had managed to manipulate the algorithm with her simple videos. All she did was try the newest foods around the Pentagram and review random merchandise in a phenomenon called “unboxing.” 

His gaze inevitably wandered to the deep trench of cleavage she prominently displayed. He scoffed. He’d seen better. After all, his partner controlled the porn industry in Hell.  

Yet, that didn’t stop him from pausing her video sometimes, openly staring at her chest for a few seconds… or minutes…or maybe he may have saved a couple (several) screenshots of her video and her photos from her Sinstagram account. Perhaps he might have even saved some of her more salacious-looking photos on his internal hard drive for private viewing. 

All for research, of course.  

“Now, I know there’s this series – the longest-running series in all of Hell…” she trailed off, her plump, pretty lips curling into a mischievous smirk.  

Vox straightened in his chair, feeling the first flutter of excitement in his chest. Could it be? Was she going to mention his most prized project, “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!” for free?  

Excitement surged within him, a giddy thrill that this lame, greenhorn, no-name nobody was about to mention his series to her 2.5 million (and growing) viewers.  

“Guys, guys, guys,” she laughed, raising her perfectly manicured hands in the air as if in surrender. “I watched the first season and wow–” 

Vox pressed his thighs together, waiting with bated breath for what he hoped would be a glowing review. Perhaps he should contact her, reach out, sponsor her like all the tiny, insignificant, worthless, businesses were doing.  

“I gotta tell you,” She shrugged, raised her immaculate trimmed brow, and with a hearty guffaw, said, “it’s pretty mid.” 

Disbelief washed over him as he stared at the screen. Instinctively, Vox paused the video, staring at the freeze-frame image of her with a large smile dancing across her lips.  

Mid? Mid? What the fuck did mid even mean? 

Scrutinizing the word in his mind, he thought maybe she had given his series an average score. Average. He could work with average. But judging from the comments filled with those annoying crying laughing emojis and agreement that it was bad, he realized it was another piece of slang from this decade that he somehow missed.  

Power surged through his head as his mind dove into the database, and he opened his trusty Urban Hell Dictionary. 

The definition of Mid was… 

Below average. 

Not good. 

Mediocre.  

Boring.  

“WHHHHAT?” He roared, his voice glitching in between the long-drawn-out word. Springing up from his chair, he picked up his mug before hurling it against the polished floor. It shattered into a cascade of jagged pieces, their sharp lines reminiscent of crooked, mocking smiles. The hot coffee splashed onto the hem of his pants, its sudden heat mirroring the fury rising within him.  

Memories surged through him, back to when he was alive, back when they cancelled him for not being innovative enough, for not being entertaining enough, for being… 

Being…. 

Boring.  

His eyes twitched, electricity crackled and jolted up in arcs across the surface of his head before fizzling out at the points of the antennas from his hat.  

He should kill her. Get Val to make her disappear or force her into working at his porn studio. How dare she call the fruits of his labour…b-bo-… He seethed, unable to even say the damn, blasted word.  

Vox thought of a thousand ways to torment her, relishing the idea of making her cry with her below-average, not good, mediocre, BORING looking face. Anger surged, boiled, in his veins, and he did what he knew was the best course of action when faced with this unprecedented insult.  

After all, with VoxTek, he had an image to keep of being on the side of the lowly Sinners. He chuckled, forced, but chuckled, nonetheless. It would smear his good image to go after some small, nobody of a Sinner. After all, he was an Overlord and the CEO of the largest corporation in all the five fucking points of the Pentagram.  

She was going to get so cancelled.  

That he would make sure of.  

Humming a random, jaunty little tune, you shut off the ring light and closed your laptop. Stretching your back, you sighed in satisfaction as your bones gave a gratifying crack. You giggled at some comments from your review of the popular series, “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!”  

There were passionate defences claiming the series was a work of art, which was far-reaching at best. It was mildly entertaining enough to watch while you painted your nails. Seriously, the show looked like it was produced for the audience in the 1950s.  

You were the first influencer to give a poor rating to the TV series, and being first meant more controversy, more views, and more money from sponsorships as you rose to the trending list once again.  

Damn, gaming the system was the best. Truly, Hell was way behind its time compared to what people did for views back when you were alive.  

Following your routine, you washed away the makeup, changed from your tight-fitting clothes into a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, and laid on your king-sized bed that was far too big for one person. Staring up at the ceiling, you were surrounded by the void of your loneliness.  

You should…go out and fuck someone.  

Preferably, someone related to the entertainment industry. All that juicy gossip about your newest fling always raked in views and clicks.  

But the idea fizzled and died as you thought about having to play the submissive role, feeding their giant egos to compensate for their shit-sized cocks. You considered visiting the BDSM club, but influential people were rarely found out in the open in those shops. There was probably a private club that you weren’t invited to…yet.  

Vain.

Empty.

Nothing.  

It didn’t change much, did it? Whether you were alive or damned.  

Everything about your life was the same.  

Sitting up, you grabbed your phone and started to scroll through Voxazon, frivolously spending thousands of Hell bucks on useless crap.  

Retail therapy.  

The tried-and-true method to stave off depression and apathy.  

You were ready for that dopamine hit as you read through the reviews of the latest dildo models, your lips pulling into a sly smirk at all the new features of VoxTek’s newest sex toy.  

A chime resounded from your phone – a notification from your personal email. Your brows raised as the sender was from anonymous666@hellmail.com 

Confused, you opened the email, wincing at the possibility of infecting your device with a virus. But that thought quickly vanished as you read the email’s content.  

Subject: (no subject)  Dear Bitch,   Retract that fucking review about “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!” from your video today, or you will regret it.   Furthermore, you have a “mid” face, and so are your boobs. Your boobs are super fucking mid. You probably get MORE views if you actually covered your boobs because that’s how MID they are.   And all your videos are MID. Especially the one you posted on July 7, 20XX, where you reviewed the Hellover drink. The one where you wore that shitty neon green tank top, which, by the way, is also fucking MID.   Anyway, this is my FIRST and LAST warning.   Fuck you.   P.S. Seriously. Fuck you.

Your eyes slowly blinked, once, twice, before a hearty, genuine laugh erupted from you. Oh my God. Did this prick actually hack your account to get your personal email to send such a shitty, lame-ass message? 

Breaths coming out in short, uneven huffs, you rolled over on your bed from side to side, clutching your stomach. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. You hadn’t laughed this genuinely since you fell to Hell.  

As your eyes traced over the words of their message, you laughed out loud again. It looked like you had a butt-hurt superfan.  

Humming, you rolled over onto your stomach and kicked your feet idly as you stared at the message. “Thanks for the laugh, virgin prick,” you whispered, planting a loud smooch on your cellphone screen. “Annnnd, delete!” Your index finger daintily tapped the trash can icon.  

Now, back to the task at hand. You debated between getting the glittery pink dildo or the two prong dildo. Tilting your head, you decided you deserved a treat, so you ordered both. 

As you were purchasing more random crap, your eyes glazed over, your mind fervently thinking of what to say for your next season review for that TV series. Just then, an annoying ad popped up – of course, from VoxTek – promoting their shitty Cobra vibrator. Seriously, you tried it, and it did nothing for you.  

An idea rapidly formed, growing until you jumped out of bed and ran to your laptop. No one had truly (and honestly) reviewed some of VoxTek’s terrible sex toys yet. In fact, you noticed that every single review for their sex toy line had glowing five-star ratings.  

Now, some of their toys were outstanding, making you come so hard until you were sobbing, soaking your underwear from your release. But that was one out of every five toys you purchased. Like all massive corporations, VoxTek was clearly buying reviews, giving themselves perfect scores.  

Perhaps it was time to change that. 

Your review of the series and the anonymous hate message were soon quickly forgotten. This was your chance to shake things up, to give the unfiltered, raw truth that your viewers craved.  

With a determined glint in your eyes, you started drafting your next video script. This was going to be huge, bigger than Jerry’s dick from last week, that was for sure.  

NEXT ->

💠 MASTERLIST 💠

[novankenn]

I have an Idea what if Jaune is harem protagonist that doesn't want to be one? Like no matter how much he tries women keep falling for him while he just trying to be a huntsman. The idea is based off the Yo-kai Watch fanfiction "The Unwanted Harem Of Nathan Adams" by Black_Omochao on Archiveofourown

NOPE... NAW... NEY...NAH... NO!!!

Jaune: THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT MOM!!

Jaune's Mom: What could you ever be accusing me of, darling?

Jaune didn't answer as his attention was taken by evading and countering the frenzied grab of his partner... the one and only Pyrrha Nikos.

Jaune: YOU FUCKING WELL...

Jaune's Mom: LANGUAGE! I taught you better than that, young man!

Pyrrha: 💕Jaune 💕 I love you! (ACK! HACK! CHOKE! COUGH!)

Jaune backs away a spray bottle held before him. A spray bottle filled with Ice Dust infused water. A spray bottle he just used to hit his overly grabby partner in the face with.

Jaune: You KNEW I was holding out for my one true love, and yet you had to publicly release... that... that FILTH!

Jaune's Mom: Your baby pictures are not filth!

Jaune: They are when they make women go psycho for me!

Jaune's Mom: You're getting older, as am I... you're training for a VERY dangerous profession... can you... really blame me?

Jaune: YES I FUCKING CAN!

Jaune's Mom: LANGUAGE! You are NOT too big for you to put over my knee, young man!

Pyrrha had shaken off the effects of the icy cold mist and was once again preparing to close on her prey. With his scroll cradled between his shoulder and his ear, Jaune frantically twisted the nozzle...

Pyrrha: 💕Jaune 💕... AHHHH!!!!!! COLD!!!! COLD!!!

Pyrrha danced about JNPR's dorm room holding her chest... Jaune having scored a direct hit to her cleavage.

Jaune's Mom: That is NOT the way to treat your future wife Jaune!

Jaune: No... It's the only way I'll be able to keep my chastity until I GET MARRIED!!!

Jaune's Mom: Married. Smarried. I was expecting Spahron by the time your block-headed father finally asked me to marry him.

Jaune: Expecting... Saphron? But she's like the third eldest? Did you baby trap Dad?

Jaune's Mom: No. Good Heavens why would you suggest something like that? I'm your mother, and I love you father and all my babies... almost as much as I'll love all the grandbabies...

Jaune: If you want grandbabies... ask my sisters!

Jaune's Mom: I plan to... however my dear, darling, dense as lead son... you... can... give... me... more... much... faster... capeesh?

Pyrrha: 💕Jaune 💕... AHHH!!! NOT AGAIN!!! COLD!!! COLD!! COLD!!

Jaune: I am not jumping into the bed with every baby-crazed girl you send my way mom! I'm not!

Jaune's Mom: Oh, honey... they're coming whether you like it or not...

KNOCK... KNOCK... KNOCK... KNOCK... KNOCK...

Weiss: 💕Jaune 💕

Ruby: 💕Jaune 💕

Blake: 💕Jaune 💕

Yang: 💕Jaune 💕

Velvet: 💕Jaune 💕

Coco: 💕Jaune 💕

Goodwitch: 💕Jaune 💕

Cinder: 💕Jaune 💕

Emerald: 💕Jaune 💕

Octavia: 💕Jaune 💕

Dew: 💕Jaune 💕

Nebula: 💕Jaune 💕

Gwen: 💕Jaune 💕

Ciel: 💕Jaune 💕

Neon: 💕Jaune 💕

Reese: 💕Jaune 💕

Arslan: 💕Jaune 💕

May: 💕Jaune 💕

Raven: 💕Jaune 💕

Militia: 💕Jaune 💕

Mel: 💕Jaune 💕

Winter: 💕Jaune 💕

Elm: 💕Jaune 💕

Harriet: 💕Jaune 💕

Willow: 💕Jaune 💕

Atlas Moms: 💕Jaune 💕

Jaune: Gods preserve me...

Pyrrha: 💕Jaune 💕

In the corner Ren and Nora are seated on Ren's bed with Neo, watching the unfolding chaos. Small slips of paper being passed between them.

Nora: Neo says she has 200 on him reaching the bullhead docks.

Ren: I say 300 for him only reaching the front doors.

The dorm room door crumbles allowing all of Jaune's "suitors" entrance...

Nora: Well I say 500 for just the win...

SHATTER!!! CRASH!!!

ALL the Girls: 😱JAUNE!!! 😱

Nora: Crap baskets! I lost.

All the girls vanish in a whirl of dust, papers and loose clothes.

Ren: I understand why Nora's not part of that group, but you seem...

Neo (Typing on her scroll) Oh, I want him too... I just prefer the long game, besides I need money to get a proper dress.

Ren: Ah. So Bullhead?

Neo: (Typing on her scroll) No, change that. 1000 that he reaches Vale.

Jaune's Mom: (From Jaune's discarded scroll on the floor) Jaune? Jaune? Are you there? DO not be giving me the silent treatment young man! If you're not talking you BETTER be busy putting babies in those lovely young women... Jaune? Are you there? Anyone?

/==/

A/N: I think I missed the mark, but hey... it got me writing. 😁😁Thanks for the ask. Hope you enjoy.

[writing-rat]

Perverted Hacker

Content: 18+ Content, Smut, Strap-On, Cunnilingus, Sammy is a pervert

Summary: Sammy hacks into Joey's phone and sees her nudes. She already wanted to hook up with the older woman, this made her desire it more.

WC: 1808

Sammy was bored. They were in the truck as they had just finished kidnapping the girl and they were nearly out of the city when Sammy saw a glint of something under her seat. It then turned off. That was when she realised it was a phone and she knew who it belonged to since they had just taken their mask off in the car. Joey. Thinking, she grabbed it discreetly as she hooked it up to her computer. Sure, a high school student would do it, but she didn’t care. She was attracted to the woman that she figured out was a mother. It was obvious from the lock screen. Quick to hack into it, she stole all the photos before she unhooked it and looked behind. No one seemed to have noticed what she had done, Dean focused on driving while listening to his rap music.

“Hey, medic. Dropped your phone,” she spoke with a smile, looking at Joey. “Oh, thank you,” Joey responded with a soft smile, grabbing her phone. Sammy couldn’t help but glance down at her cleavage, the shirt she was wearing doing wonders for the 23-year-old's brain. She wondered how old Joey was too. Humming under her breath, she kept a separate tab open, making it smaller so people couldn’t see as she was looking through Joey’s text firsts, learning her name quickly. She smirked, she could track more info about her then. That’s when she went through her notes, finding out how long she had been sober. She was surprised that a woman as beautiful as Ana had a drug problem.

That’s when she decided to go to the photos, surprised that the first photo she saw was some of her nudes. She couldn’t help but click on it, admiring the woman. What she wasn’t aware of was that Joey had noticed. The medic knew that the hacker was a pervert already since she did openly stare at her tits when she unzipped her jacket. To be honest everyone did but Sammy was more obvious and even licked her lips. Sammy continued to look through her photos, loving to see the occasional nudes before she closed the tab. She would look more in-depth after the mission. She couldn’t help but fantasise about hooking up with the medic.

Soon enough they were at the mansion, everyone going in as Sammy stripped out of the navy blue jumpsuit she was wearing, revealing her yellow undershirt, black top, mesh top and her skirt. Joey couldn’t help but admire the girl before she looked away. “You have 5 minutes to set up the girl in a room and set up a lookout point. Meet back here,” the boss spoke. Joey immediately picked up the girl as Sammy went to help Joey. Joey didn’t push her away at all, just let her follow as she was soon getting out some handcuffs. “You always a pervert?” Joey asked the hacker when they were a distance away from people. Sammy looked shocked. “What?” she asked. “You staring at my tits then also downloading my nudes from off my phone,” she teased her, being more confident as Sammy had a heavy blush. “I was just curious about you then stumbled on them,” Sammy admitted, but didn’t look at the woman. “How old are you?” she blurted. “33, you?” Joey asked with a raised eyebrow. “23,” Sammy answered. Joey nodded as she sat Abigail down.

That’s when the both of them went down, not wanting to push everyone’s patience. They would talk more, Sammy knew it. She would also try and seduce her…

-

It had been 10 minutes since Joey got everyone’s observations and Sammy was on the lookout for the older woman, wanting to see her and hook up with her if possible. If she had more time she would want to get to know her. She was skipping around before she bumped into Joey as the 2 just turned a corner. Joey was on the bottom. “Damn. I knew you wanted me but didn’t think you’d bottom,” Sammy teased. That was when Joey suddenly switched positions and got up. “What makes you think that?” Joey asked, raising an eyebrow. Sammy just smiled. “So… what do you say about having a round? We won’t be seeing each other after this,” Sammy spoke, avoiding the question. “You’ve seen my address and name already I bet. You will be going to visit. Anyway, I’m professional. You aren’t… clearly,” Joey resisted. Sammy shrugged. “Can’t a MILF chaser have a chance?” she asked, pouting. “Tell me your name first then you can do whatever to me,” Joey reasoned. It was fair since Sammy knew her name. “Jessica, Jessica Hurney,” she spoke happily. Joey looked around around before she grabbed Sammy by the hand, and took her to a clean bedroom.

“What do you want to do?” Joey asked, letting Sammy take over. Sammy smirked before she pushed Joey down on the bed and straddled her. That was when Joey felt something. There was a strap-on, she could tell immediately when Sammy moved her hips again. Joey blushed hard. “I always wanted to dominate a MILF. Let me pleasure you,” she asked, looking at the older woman beneath her. All the other ones she got with were dominant after all. “Ok,” Joey breathed out and Sammy was quick to celebrate but also was quick to start kissing Joey.

Joey kissed back in surprise, her arms being pinned down by Sammy’s hand, the tattooed blonde straddling her and pressing her fake dick against Joey’s stomach. Slowly but surely her other hand was going under her shirt. “Want to be fully nude or not?” Sammy asked. Joey blushed. “Nude, you have more space then,” Joey explained, knowing that this was breaking a rule. The no grab-ass one. She didn’t care though, not at that moment in time. Sammy grinned excitedly as she started to kiss the girl again, using both hands this time as they went under her shirt, rubbing at her waist before she slowly started to pull it up. Joey kept her hands up as they were kissing, only removing their lips from each other to take off the shirt. Sammy also eyed her breasts, seeing she wasn’t wearing a bra. Sammy loved that as she kissed the corner of her lip, trailing to her jaw and her neck, her hands slowly unbuttoning her jeans and unzipping them too. Joey didn’t even realise until they were being pulled down. Sammy was disappointed to see she was wearing underwear yet delighted too. It showed how wet Joey was and she saw a big patch as she soon sucked on her breasts.

Joey meanwhile moaned as she threw her head back, feeling how Sammy’s finger rubbed against her wetness too. She was only in her underwear now, Sammy having taken off her boots somehow. “Please strip too,” Joey practically begged. Sammy smirked. “Call me daddy from now on,” Sammy giggled before she started to take off her vest, top and bra, revealing her bare breasts. While Sammy sucked on her nipples and rubbed her, Joey groped at the blonde’s breasts. Sammy let out a moan of pleasure as she was riding against the latina’s thigh before she suddenly ripped off her underwear.

“I want to make sure you stay nude for me,” Sammy growled just as Joey was about to protest, where she crawled down her body, her skirt being removed as she also wasn’t wearing underwear. She also kicked her shoes off before she sniffed Joey’s crotch, before licking. “Sammy,” Joey gasped, throwing her head back as she gripped at her hair. “First I want you to cum all over my tongue and fingers then all over my strap. Got it, baby girl?” Sammy growled. Joey nodded. “Yes Daddy,” she moaned as she gripped Sammy’s hair. Sammy smirked before she was licking more, sucking at the right times around her clit. Sammy also spanked her ass as Joey gasped, moaning louder. Sammy wouldn’t be surprised if everyone could hear now, and she loved how loud Joey could get as she started to press her middle finger against her entrance. Joey moaned louder.

“Please, need your finger,” Joey begged. Sammy just grinned before she entered it inside of her, still licking and sucking as one hand went and squeezed her ass. Sammy thrusted the finger in gently, realising that Joey was already quite loose. “You’ve masturbated recently,” Sammy stated, Joey moaning as she was embarrassed it was that easy to tell she had. “God, that’s hot. I want to watch you masturbate one day,” she kept speaking casually as she was fingering the older woman, licking and sucking her clit again. Joey whimpered as she came quickly and Sammy was lapping it all up as she was wanting every drop.

“Ready for my dick?” Sammy asked with a smirk. Joey blushed as she was nodding. “Please Daddy,” she practically begged. Sammy soon crawled up the older woman’s body as she kissed her again. Joey kissed back in desperation, moaning when Sammy was slowly entering inside her. Sammy meanwhile took that opportunity to enter her tongue into the older woman’s mouth, causing the both to moan louder as Sammy was glad she inserted a double-sided strap. She wanted pleasure after all too. Joey was getting louder once again, Sammy was sure she was louder than before though and she loved that. Everyone would know what they were doing. Sammy meanwhile kept thrusting, slow and gentle at first as Joey didn’t need to adjust. Soon though she got faster and rougher and it seemed Joey preferred it much more. That led to Sammy spanking her while they kissed too, Joey arching her back more. Sammy grinned as one hand kept ahold of her ass, the other rubbing her nipple. The 2 girls didn’t separate from the kiss until they couldn’t breathe. When they pulled away, however, a string of saliva kept them together as they caught their breath, kissing more as Sammy kept hitting Joey’s G-spot. Joey was wriggling around as she was moaning, unable to stay still, going crazy from all the touching that was happening. Sammy loved seeing the medic losing all control of her body as she kept kissing her a lot. Joey clenched against the toy, stopping Sammy from moving for a bit as it was obvious she had come. Sammy moaned as she was getting closer before she suddenly came herself, Sammy collapsing on her as they were breathing heavily.

“You were much better than I thought you would be,” Joey said, looking directly at Sammy. Sammy smirked. “I love to please people, what can I say?” Sammy teased. Joey shook her head as she was thinking. “We can continue hooking up after this mission,” Joey concluded and Sammy grinned.

Sammy couldn’t wait.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Bond, Jane Bond

007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007

People are gathered at the Peacock Theater in Downtown Los Angeles watching two ladies, a redhead and a blonde one, perform an act. They are pretending to play a game. The redheaded woman grabs a hidden envelope and cheats. This lady proceeds to read it and announce a category, all the nominees, and then the winner. They both smile and the audience claps.

Meanwhile, Bond is walking up the marble stairs to the top of the theater, overlooking the crowd. Her silky skintight black one-shoulder little black dress was turning heads but more so were her black long legs that went on forever.

Bond gets to a corridor on the top floor, exactly where she wants to be at that time, looks down at a brass doorknob, and sees the reflection of the blue-eyed man in a tuxedo coming at her. Bond spins around faster than the blink of an eye and knocks him down.

He gets up, clearly sore, rubbing his jaw and checking it for fractures.

"What the fuck are you doing, Bond!"

"Oops, sorry! I thought you were, Chris."

"Chris is 6.2!"

"Sorry."

"You're gonna have to pay for this."

"Is that blood?"

"It's a rental Calvin Klein."

2 hours later Mr. Iger was dead. Paramedics were called in but it was too late by the time they arrived.

The cause of death was later determined as arrhythmia and since Iger had a history of arrhythmias and other heart conditions, no foul play was suspected. Bond's alibi was airtight and her plan was executed to perfection with the help of the blue-eyed blond man in the tux with a sore jaw.

007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007

The old hack knocks Bond to the ground.

She kicks her again, then pulls her by the hair.

"This time, Bond, the pleasure will be all mine."

She laughs like a hyena and crushes Jane's ribs again. Bond struggles, in pain.

Carmy walks in with a gun. Points at the old lady attacking Bond and fires.

1 bullet between the eyes was all it took.

Bond has recovered. She's quick to set the timer and then she runs as fast she can in the opposite direction grabbing Carmy by the arm and taking him with her.

The explosion that follows shortly after erases any traces that both Bond and her "associate" were there.

The explosion was later blamed on a gas leakage. MI6 had to pay good money and collect a few favors in high spheres of power to cover that one up as the Fire Department determined in a matter of hours that gas had nothing to do with the blast.

Bond was cleared. Lived to die another day. So did Carmy who enjoyed this constant back and forth of saving each other's lives. It turned him on.

007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007

Clothes scattered everywhere, empty glasses, Dom Perignon floating in an ice bucket. It’s the bedroom of the place they’re staying at. Jane is sleeping peacefully on the bed. She's on her stomach, only her black fuck-me heels on.

"Syd?"

Her brown eyes open. Barely above a whisper... "Yes?"

Carmy appears from beside her on the bed, wrapped in the sheets from the waist down. He rolls on top of her and kisses her bare back eliciting a long moan.

"In the hallway, when you punched me - did you mean it?"

They stroke each other’s hair. She smiles...softly as they lock eyes.

"Yes."

Carmy looks at her, he's appalled. Hurt. Not physically this time around, though. Worse.

"Basic rule. Always hit first."

Carmy takes a pillow and playfully smothers her with it. Bond’s laughing...they grin and passionately kiss, and she says she's sorry again. He believes her.

He shouldn't have. She always knew he wasn't Chris. The jab he took had a name and a last name, white porcelain skin, dark hair, blue eyes, and a cleavage that left nothing to the imagination.

"Second rule. I'm Bond for you now, we are on a mission. Forget my name."

"Roger that. But don't hit me again or I will blow your cover, Bond."

"You deserved it." Bond says as she kisses him and bites his lips.

"Sorry."

"Are you? Really?"

"Of course I am. I love you."

"Do you, Carmy?"

"I love you so dearly, Sydney. I want us in each other's lives forever."

007007007007007007THEEND00700700700700700700700

[gurugirl]

Hi. Are you going to do a sneak peak of the series start over (I think I got the name wrong sorry💗)

Why not? And you are close! It's called Can We Start Over?

Chapter 1 will be posted tomorrow at 12pm CST. Sneaky from chapter 1 below...

...

“You don’t mind me dancing with you, do you?” His voice was close to your neck as he spoke.

Shaking your head you turned your body to face him, swinging your hips softly, “Not at all.”

He grinned down at you and the dimple that appeared on his cheek had you taken aback. He was truly stunning.

“Good. Wanted to chat some with you. Find out more about you…” he took your hand in his and pulled you closer, shifting the mood a little as you both danced. You silently inhaled in surprise at his gesture.

“And what did you want to know, Mr. Styles?” You raised your brows and smirked at him. You weren’t sure at that point what he was doing. But he was certainly leading you to believe this was more than just a friendly chat.

“First, what’s your name?”

You laughed, “I’m Y/n. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Are you here alone, Y/n?” His free hand found a spot on your side over your hip.

“I am. What about you?” You weren’t used to receiving this kind of attention from anyone. Much less a wealthy handsome man.

“I’m here alone too,” he kept a cocky grin plastered to his face as he drew nearer and spoke lowly so only you could hear, “But was hoping I wouldn’t be leaving alone.”

It was at that moment you were truly surprised. Was he…? Couldn’t be. You’d surely misread this situation just in the way all your pretty girlfriends misread it every time a guy showed any friendliness. Maybe it was the three cocktails you’d drank and that had you wondering what was in them.

Harry's hand released yours and he brought his ringed fingers up to your shoulder where he brushed the side of your neck, drawing you in closer with his other hand at your hip, “What about you?”

You blinked your eyes and looked up at him in confusion, “What about me? What do you mean?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he looked down at your mouth and took a clear glance at your cleavage before responding, “Did you hope to leave with someone tonight?”

You scoffed and looked around the dance floor before looking back at him, still not quite believing the direction this conversation was headed, “I hadn’t imagined I would leave with anyone. Figured I’d just go back to my hotel room alone after.”

The ridiculously attractive man licked his lips and kept his gaze on yours, “Really? You don’t want someone to take you back to their room and help you out of this pretty dress tonight?”

You began to cough. You’d choked on your own saliva as you inhaled a sharp breath at the wrong moment. His words caught you off guard.

But now you were hacking and bent at the waist, red in the face like an idiot.

Harry patted your back and you heard him speak into your ear, “You okay, darling? Need some water?”

When you’d recovered you and Harry were standing at the edge of the dancefloor away from the crowd and he had a comforting hand on your back.

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…” you wiped your face, which was moist from the tears you’d forced out from all the coughing.

Harry took your hand and led you to a free seat, pulling a chair out for you and then sitting next to you, his hand still on your back, “Do you feel better now?”

You nodded and smiled at him. You hadn’t forgotten what he said. But now you were sure whatever he was getting at was all but out the window after your little display.

“Come back with me to my room.”

Well, that just blasted your little theory.

You sat up straight and your jaw dropped open wide, “Why?”

Harry laughed, “Because I don’t want to go back alone. Spend the night with me tonight, Y/n.”

Were you in a dream? Had you drunk too much and were blacked out and hallucinating?

“I don’t… I’m not sure what you…” you were unable to put your thoughts together coherently. You hadn’t expected it. You assumed you weren’t his type. Too chunky for a man like him. Imagined he preferred a more modelesque figure on women he found attractive given his appearance.

“Look. I’ll just be very straightforward with you. I think you’re gorgeous and I’d like to have you in my bed tonight. Naked. How does that sound to you?”

You whispered the word naked back to him as if it were a word you’d never heard before. You took a deep breath and looked around the room.

[vodrae]

Can you imagine the justice league and associates going to con as civilians and seeing sexy cosplay of them ?

Dami: This lady is clearly too old to be a Robin and her suit reveals all her cleavage and glute. Father, can we hacked her bank account so my fan can afford to finish her costume ?

(Inspired by the steamy comics between adult Damian and Raven by @andthendk)

[hackerqueen]

nobody but us

a/n : a very short one shot, sweet and sad I would say?

"You're in the wind, I'm in the water

Nobody's son, nobody's daughter"

Heavy breaths mingled one with the other when the couple sank onto the mattress completely without strength. They were short and uneven, dissolving into the darkness of the dingy motel room where they were now hiding.

Not a second passed, and Jake, still half unconscious and drunk from their previous pleasure, turned so that he was lying on his stomach, his head on her naked breasts. There was nothing vulgar about it anymore. They were completely naked, the rough skin of his cheek rubbing against the softness of her chest as he calmed his shaky breathing and listened to her accelerated heartbeat, which was his favorite lullaby.

Her heart squeezed violently at how he snuggled into her body. How his raven-black hair and warm breath tickled her exposed cleavage. At that moment, he did not resemble the man he had been just a few moments ago. Back then he always had to have everything under control, which he was obsessed with. He pounded into her with his whole body, his movements, kisses or strong grips were not sweet or gentle. They were lustful, wild and raw.

Now, however, he was none other than a lost boy who lacked another person. Her presence. Her touch. Tender whispers.

When it was usually he who kept her safe now she felt the roles were reversed. He was lying on top of her, so vulnerable after they had once again managed to escape the police and FBI. Now he wasn't the evil and dangerous hack that everyone had warned her about. He was not a person she had ever feared in any way. Yet when she chose him, everyone turned on her. But something about him made her feel a little more alive and a far less lost. Even though she only had him left.

Feeling that this time she must be the one to make him feel safe, she brushed her fingertips against his cheek and combed through his hair. Gently, as if he was the most precious treasure she just held in her hands.

He was.

When he felt her fingers, he flinched. He had not been touched with such gentleness since his childchood. He was no stranger to woman and had felt their hands on all parts of his body, but her touch made him feel like he belonged some place.

Just as she had written him a few months earlier even though he didn't believe it at the time - his place was by her side. For better or for worse. The MC had seen his worst side, all the atrocities he had done to save his freedom and his life, but she was still by his side nonetheless. She did not leave him. Throughout his life, he knew well the meaning of only one word - leaving. Everyone was leaving. After a while, even he did. So why not her?

He looked at her, and she looked like an angel. An angel that God had sent to save him. He didn't deserve her. He knew it so well, but her love was addictive. She returned his gaze, and his lips quivered.

– I love you. – he whispered, searching her eyes. He looked very pale, scared and even a little hopeful.

His heart melted and a flock of butterflies appeared in his stomach as he saw her eyes light up with sparks of ordinary human happiness. He knew then that God had sent her for him, so that the light of her eyes would illuminate his darkness, which sometimes seemed to overpower him.

"Love is a curse" he heard a demonic whisper in the back of his head that belonged to his past.

And now I was drowning in it.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes, tired of people, the world and all the other things that had failed them so much. They were just two demaged people, trying to heal each other with love.

He found her in every breath of air that made life possible, while she saw his reflection in every sheet of water she came across.

For apart from each other, they had no one else.

[goldenageofwireless]

wait can u give me a quick rundown of ur ocs… so i can ask questions abt them 👀

yes ofc !!!! OK SO. My guy that im like hyperfixated on right now is Emil, he's a mad scientist guy and he SUCKS. basically he's just always been a pain in the ass since he was born and never really made an effort to be a better person. Also he's really fucking smart. He ends up getting really famous and wealthy cuz he invented something really cool (still hammering out deets on this, i like the idea of some kinda neural implant or advanced surveillance tech tho). He enjoys living in luxury but hates the constant attention, so one day he decides to abandon it all and isolate himself in his lab in rural Louisiana. He stays in isolation for like 5 or so years and gets soooo depressed. and keeps thinking gay thoughts about his former lab partner .... (i'll get to them in a bit) he just kinda ignores All That and keeps working. Until his lab partner shows up at his door and is like DUDE YOUR INVENTION CAUSED THE END OF THE FUCKING WORLD. and then they go on a lil road trip together to stop the Big Bad and Emil learns to stop sucking so much and take accountability for his actions :3 also heres a doodle i did of him recently <3

[ID: a digital drawing of op's character, Emil, visible from the waist up. Emil is a fat, white man with messy orange hair. He is wearing a white, short-sleeved lab coat, black gloves, and a purple button-up shirt. The shirt is unbuttoned a bit, and his cleavage is visible. He has green goggles on his head, and he's wearing colored contact lenses. His left eye is green, and his right is purple. He's frowning and glancing to the right/end ID] so Sahir !! They were Emil's lab partner in grad school. They're a botanical psychologist (some shit i made up, they're researching the cognitive abilities of plants). They've always been the quiet, out of the way, people-pleaser type. Emil kept them around bc they just went along with whatever he did. ANYWAY they always kinda had a crush on Emil and even when he ditched them when he got famous, they didn't stop thinking of him </3 So when shit goes down bc of his big fuckup they go find him and basically don't leave him alone until he gets off his ass and fixes it. They're still not really comfortable with standing up to him, so they just keep letting him be a dick to them until they just. have enough and totally snap. and that's kinda the inciting incident that makes Emil realize how much of a dick he is and why thats Bad actually. So Sahir's whole personal journey is basically unlearning their people-pleaser mentality and gaining confidence in themself <3 SO theyre the only two that really have a solid storyline at this point, i have a few misc guys ill drop tho :) ok so first up there's Mal (short for Malpractice Lawsuit), she's basically liiiike if u took the concept of capitalistic greed and made it into a lesbian robot <3 shes evil and she sucks and shes sooo hot and i wanna write her into emil and sahir's storyline but im not sure how atm !! but perhaps i will figure it out eventually !! and theres Marvin, he's a lil guy robot and my fav oc :3 he's just small and silly and also a genius who does Epic Cool Hacking Stuff but hes also an 8 year old who eats dirt then theres Hugo and Vicki, theyre cool and gay :) Hugo is the most anxious man alive (also hes from boston) and Vicki is a demon who just decided that xey like him and they hang out. not much story there they just kiss each other a lot

so yah !!! thats my guys !!!

[gratuitousauxiliatrix]

Roxy Mobile Bio

Race: Human/God-tier

Skin Color: Pale white

Age: 31 years old

Gender: Female(She/Her Pronouns)

Height: 6'4

Weight: Around 240 pounds

Blood Color: Red

Hair: Short and white french bob

Eye color: Hot Pink

Strife Deck: fistkind, riflekind

Sexuality: Pansexual Panromantic

Job: Owner of the Lalonde Wizzard Shoppe

Home Planet: New Earth

Body shape: Tall, thin, and athletic as well as extremely top heavy

Breast Size: Q cups with each breast spanning across two feet each and covering the bulk of her torso

Butt Size: 7 inches across each perky cheek

Bulge/Dick size: N/A

Sack size: N/A

Likes: Wizards, retro gaming, hacking, esoteric sciences, felines, alcohol

Dislikes: Dictators

Personality: Casual, fun loving, social

Abilities-

God-Tier Rouge of Void abilities

Conditional Immortality: Can’t die unless her death is “Heroic” or “Just”

Spell Casting

Alchemy

Nothingness Removal/Bestowal: By imagining an object Roxy can then steal the "nothingness" from that idea to bring that idea to reality as a physical object or being. Stolen "nothingness" can be stored and used later to shrink or erase things or people from existence. She can also steal "nothingness" from already existing things or people to make them larger.

Hammerspace  Seemingly built into all void players, Roxy’s body seems to contain a space that can fit in nearly anything without any sort of physical impediment. She mostly uses her cleavage as an access point. Due to the existence of the Sylladex this is entirely redundant and mostly used for horny reasons.

Presence Removal

Flight

Clothing- Usually wears a hot pink sleeveless crop top with a loose flowing hem and swaps out between black short shorts, leggings, or a thigh length skirt

[sukunaspinkyfinger]

ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴅᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜱᴀᴋᴇ

ꜱᴏɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ: ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴅᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ - ꜱᴀᴍᴜʀᴀɪ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ: ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

The sun begins to set on the never-sleeping Night City as I carefully drive through Jig-jig Street, one of the most bustling locations in the Westbrook area. As a little ritual, I always tend to close all my successful gigs with a drink, doesn't matter how long I have to be stuck behind these god-forsaken wheels.

I promised myself - N, once you take care of her, you're going to spend all your precious eddies on a type-66 Cthulhu, cuz' that baby is not cheap.

as I park the car in front of Jina's, I hesitantly open my sun-visor, which reveals an old picture of my beautiful, big sister Utahime. I smile proudly at her, as she smiles back with her typical mom-like expression. easily the prettiest, smartest girl in Watson district, graduated at the top of her class at Arasaka Academy, nice, family-oriented girl...and a great fucking netrunner, under some big-shot corpofuck. She would definitely scold me for getting shit-faced at a bar after doing dangerous jobs. I laugh, though my smile turns sour.

She would definitely scold me if she wasn't in a vegetative state since 2071 because of a work accident that fried her brain beyond belief while trying to hack into some shady agent's data board. at least fucking Arasaka was nice enough to send her last paycheck, then abandon her, erasing her from the database to avoid any kind of scandal. she and many others deserve better.

"love you, sis, be home soon." I kiss her photo as I put on my sunglasses and make my way over to Jina's, whose entrance is already being guarded by Tyger Claws p̶u̶n̶k̶s̶ members.

"hey baby, nice tits you got there. how much for an hour?" the Japanese tyger claw winks at me seconds before the translation implant reveals his chivalrous intentions. since I don't usually want trouble with these guys, I present him with a cute smile as I try really hard not to throw up in my mouth.

"Thanks, um, is Jina in today?" the guy doesn't even bother to take his eyes off of my cleavage.

"ye, baby, just switched shifts. you her friend?"

"mmhm. anyway, thanks for the info. wouldn't wanna keep you guys busy, so, see ya."

I blow him a goodbye kiss as I push open the glass door, which reveals my haven since I became a merc. pretty girls dancing in every corner, highlighted by neon lights, the smell of lust, and cheap tobacco. I spot Jina and her signature goddess braids right away, tending the bar in her little apron. I take my seat closest to her, she spots me as I take off my sunglasses and gifts me with a warm smile and a shot of Amel.

"I was wondering when you'd show your pretty face again. cheers."

the taste of good old Amel sends chills down my spine as the sour, bitter, and hot liquid coats my needy tongue, making me yearn for more as I take out my rusty cigarette case. thankfully, Jina is already a step ahead.

"It's only been two days, Jina. but I know what you mean. gigs are comin' in hot but-"

"but the pay's shit. you don't have to tell me, I see it in your crusty eyes, madam." she pauses as she hands me an ashtray and another shot. "how's your sis?"

"same, ol'. still can't figure out if she even knows who I am...but that's why these shit gigs are worth it, Jina, cuz' one day-" I down the shot as I point at her with a proud smile. "one day she will be her old self again and the crusty eyes, gunshot wounds, sleepless nights will all be worth it."

we continue to talk for hours, what seems like minutes as I keep downing the liquid gold that oh so sweetly burns my throat. we talk, we dance, we smoke, we drink until the clock turns to midnight as I drift off to a land of dreams, completely closing out the noises around me.

I wake up in a fluffy bed, annoyed by whoever decided to keep the blinds open, but since the sun decided to wake me up so rudely I rise and follow the sound of delicate music. My skin erupts in goosebumps as my feet touch the ice-cold floor, I walk mindlessly in the direction of what seems to be a kitchen tended by a woman whose black ponytail dances freely to the classical music coming from the radio.

"tsk, tsk, tsk. look who decided to show up! and I thought I'm going to be eating breakfast alone again."

my eyes widen and my blood stops in my veins as my big sister turns around with a huge plate of goodies in her hand.

"what, are you hangover again? for god's sake, N, how often did I tell you to stop drinking during the week? sit down and eat, you can take a pill after that."

I instinctively obey her and take place at the dinner table, but as soon as I look up we find ourselves in a different scenario. this time, we are sitting outside in the sun. Utahime wears a thin, red sundress while reading a magazine, slurping on some icy drink. the way her expression changes as soon as she spots some juicy gossip, I get reminded of our mother. the endless similarities scare me sometimes.

"Isn't it so pretty outside? sometimes I forget we're in Night City."

Utahime smiles as she pours me a drink.

"the only way someone forgets they're in Night City is if they have a sister with a cushy job like mine."

right, I almost forgot how well off we used to be when Utahime was working for big-shot corpos. sure, I already had a job when I was seventeen, but that chump change of eurodollars wasn't even cousins with the amount Utahime was making.

"true, but it's not bad to forget sometimes." she takes off her shades and slowly looks at me. "you should forget about me, N."

her words strike me like the bullet in my shoulder from that maelstrom gang member last week. I open my mouth to ask her what she means, to protest, to curse at her, but nothing comes out. the sudden vibration in my pocket pulls me out of the dream and I yank my phone. God save the fucker on the end of the line.

"da fuck you wan'?"

after a couple of seconds of baffled silence, my ripperdoc, Shoko starts to speak.

"I should've guessed you're in some ditch drinking your liver away."

"ouhh, heyyy Shoko. M'bad, m'sry for bein' a bitch. Wassup?"

she lets out a disappointed sigh, I could make out some unfamiliar voices in the background.

"Listen, N, I need you to pull yourself together. someone I know has a job for you, important."

"mhhm, okay. just...just send me the deets. call you back in the morni-"

"No, N, listen to me. The job is from..." She stops mid-sentence while her heels bring her to a more secure spot. "Fucking listen to me, this job is what you've been looking for. High risk, high eddies but I know you need this and I know you can handle it. The job is from fucking Sukuna Ryomen. You have one hour to get back to me, I expect to hear back from you."

she hangs up immediately and before I know it, my feet are unconsciously dragging me towards the restroom. Sukuna Ryomen's name echoes through my mind as the nasty mix of enchiladas and amel exists through my mouth.

Sukuna Ryomen, 43 years old, has been around as long as I can remember. Came from Tokyo to the NUSA, began his career as a street boxer, won every street and official fight in Night City, until he retired and rebranded; today, he is a rich businessman and the leader of The Unwanted, a mid-sized gang that unofficially controls the Westbrook district. Word on the street is, that the less they are the more dangerous. You need high-tech weapons, cyberware, information? You seek out Sukuna. You need someone to be offed? He is your best man. He even convinced big-shot netrunners like Geto Suguru to work for him, a huge accomplishment. That man single-handedly offed 52 netrunners just by hacking into their network, while exposing classified information about a plague that caused the death of more than 14 million people. Geto Suguru was/is a one-man army and bowed to no one until he did to Sukuna Ryomen.

my mind continues to race as I wash my mouth and face, Shoko's words echoing like a never-ending record. I quickly run to the counter and pay Jina for her service, I sprint to my car without a word. My trembling hands take out Utahime's picture and I just smile.

this could be our big break, 'hime. i do this job, i climb up the ladder, we get you that treatment and you'll be back to your normal self again. this is it, 'hime, this is it!

i swiftly start the car and make my way to Kabuki, where Shoko's clinic resides, praying that the badges don't notice my blatant drunk driving.

gotta do this, for her sake. for our sake.

[novankenn]

SAW : Episode Four : First Assignment (Jaune-Air)

Four gore coated figures shuffled through the dusty landscape. After having survived, or more to the point instigated a brutally visceral slaughter of vampiric creatures, they were tired, almost dead on thier feet.

Juliet : Like mega-yuck!

Ash: What is it now?

Juliet: Everything is drying and flaking off....

DoomGuy: *Grunt

Juliet: Easy for you to say! It's not falling into your cleavage and making your boobs itchy! Right J?

Jaune: Why are you asking ... (Looks down and sees he's still in his magical garment girl outfit.) Oh yeah, right. The dress.

Ash: Well?

Jaune: I don't know. I don't have any more cleavage than you do! Juliet: It's okay, Jaune... you're just a late bloomer.

Jaune: I'm... too tired for this.

DoomGuy: *Grunt

Ash: Doomy we will get there when we get there. Asking every five minutes is NOT making this go any faster.

DoomGuy: *Grunt

Ash: I'm sorry for snapping, but we just spent hours hacking things to pieces, and I'm not looking forward to another two hours of walking before I can put my feet up and have a little...

The trio watch as Ash reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a little ziplock bag.

Ash: They survived, perfectly. This guys will ease our worries away once we get there.

Juliet: Is that what I think it is?

Ash: Um... what do you think it is?

Juliet: Wackey Tobacey.

Ash: Seriously? Did you just call my premium supply Wackey Tobacey? This here (Shakes the bag for emphasis) is the finest grade of weed I have ever had the pleasure of...

Jaune: Ash, put the dope away. Talk later... walk now.

Doomguy: *Grunt

Everyone stops and turned to look at Jaune who just happens to be hovering a foot above the dust and sand that coated the ground.

Juliet/Ash: You can fly.

Jaune: Yes?

Doomguy: *Grunt

Jaune: There is no way I can...

Ash: Not all three of us at the same time, of course not. But one after the other... that you could do.

Jaune: So instead of walking, you want me to make the same trip, like six times?

Juliet: It would be five, and to be honest, yes. Yes we do.

Jaune: But I'm tired as well.

Doomguy: *Grunt

Jaune: That is not an incentive.

Juliet: I would love to try on Doomy's helmet! It's got to be filled with cool stuff... like WI-FI!

Ash: I'll make you a deal. Fly us and one... (shakes the ziplock baggie)

Juliet: You will NOT corrupt Jaune with your womanizing ways!

Ash: I don't have a comeback for that.

Juliet: Jaune... fly us and I'll wash your back.

Jaune: *Blushing* I.. er...

Doomguy: *Grunt

Ash: Yep, that's an offer no one can refuse.

Jaune: (Shoulders slumping upon realizing he wasn't getting out of this.) Fine. Whose first?

DoomGuy: *Grunt

Ash: Right. Ladies first.

Jaune floated towards Juliet, only to grunt as Juliet basically hopped into his arms, forcing him to carry her bridal style and almost fall backwards to land on his ass.

Juliet: Eyes front sweets.

With a slight bit of struggle, having never flown carrying someone else, Jaune rose into the air and took off in the direction they had been walking. Leaving Ash and Doomguy to follow behind on foot, at least until Jaune returned and picked one of them up.

Juliet: I think this is it... maybe? Could it be?

Jaune: I...

Juliet: You go get the others, I'll check it out!

Jaune weaved in the air as Juliet pushed off him and hopped to the ground. Sighing, he turned about and started back up the path he had followed on the way in.

Juliet: (Moved forward and pries open the partially falling off door) Time for a...

Juliet: ... bath... crap baskets.

She turned to take in the rest of the dilapidated interior. There was no stove, only a fireplace, rotten sheets hung from the ceiling splitting the space into smaller sections, and the bed... was nothing more than a falling apart bed frame.

Juliet: Double crap baskets.