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zooophagous · 1 year

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So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

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gothhabiba · 4 months

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Gaza has an urgent need for more e-sims as of December 31, 2023, according to organizer Mirna El Helbawi:

[ID: Tweet by Mirna El Helbawi (@Mirna_elhelbawi) reading: Bad news bad news: We are RUNNING OUT OF ESIMS! Please donate! #ConnectingGaza @Connectinghu_". An image is attached with text reading: Take a clear QR screenshot and send it to: [email protected]. Nomad (regional Middle East); Mogo (Israel); Holafly (Israel); Simly (Palestine); Airalo (Menalink / Discover)." The tweet was posted at 6:25 AM on 31 December 2023 from Porto, Portugal. End ID]

Gazaesims.com has a breakdown of how to purchase and send e-sims using different services.

Also see @blackpearlblasts's guide on how to purchase e-sims, including discount codes.

If you aren't confident with ordering an e-sim for yourself or can't afford a large plan (the largest plans on the apps currently being called for range from $40-69 USD), you can send funds to Crips for eSims for Gaza (donate link here) or to me (venmo @gothhabiba; paypal.me/Najia; cash app $NajiaK) and we will combine your funds to purchase and send e-sims to the Connecting Humanity team. It is better to purchase large plans if possible, since many people sometimes use one person's phone as a hotspot. It takes the CH team less time to connect people to plans that last longer than to repeatedly connect them to smaller plans.

If you sent an e-sim in October, November or the first two weeks of December...

...and it has not yet been activated (you will not get an activation e-mail from the CH team; you will need to go into the app and check your plans to see if any of them have been activated), reply to the e-mail that you already sent.

See this guide on how to tell whether an eSim you sent has been activated or not (and, if you've purchased multiple plans on the same app, how to tell which one has been activated).

#palestine #action #esims #image described palestine

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cashfreeapp750 · 1 year

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Cash App The Pros, Cons and Features of The Popular Payment Service

#We want to help you make more informed decisions. Some links on this page — clearly marked — may take you to a partner website and may resul #see How We Make Money.#Cash App is a peer-to-peer payment service that’s catching on fast. Cash App grossed $385 million in 2020 #representing a 212 percent increase in profits from the year before.#“Cash App is a relatively strong option for sharing cash and its other functionality. It’s not too different from Zelle #Paypal or Venmo #” says Ray Kimble #Founder and CEO of security firm Kuma LLC.#More and more Americans are using computers and smartphones for our banking needs. About 65 percent of Americans are expected to bank onlin #Cash App might do the trick #but there are some drawbacks. Here’s what to know about Cash App before signing up.#What Is Cash App?#Cash App is a mobile app-focused money transfer service. You can send and receive funds directly and quickly #like you could with PayPal or Venmo. But Cash App features a few other functions as well.#Aside from transferring money #Cash App will provide you with a bank account and a debit card #which you can use at any ATM. You can even invest in stocks and Bitcoin through the app. Some of these services are free #so there’s no guarantee that you’ll get your money back if something goes wrong.#Cash App has been around since 2013. It was originally called Square Cash #in reference to Square Inc.#Cash App’s parent company. Square Inc. was co-founded by Jack Dorsey of Twitter.#cash management #cashapp #cashforscraptrucks

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hannahmanderr · 9 months

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I see your increasingly eldritch ghost form for Danny, and I raise you:

Phantom who, instead of looking more ghostly, is just a little too much like a human.

Like yeah, everyone knows Danny Fenton can send literal chills up people's spines and they swear they've seen his eyes start to glow in the right light, but have you seen Phantom? Like why isn't his skin green or blue or even deathly white? It's a lot healthier looking than Fenton's, that's for sure.

And just about every ghost that comes through has crazy sharp fangs, but if anything, Phantom's canines are just a little sharper than normal, but really they don't look too different than Wes' when he's on one of his rage induced rants.

Not to mention the physical presence he has in Amity Park. The way he inhabits space just feels different than most other ghosts, as if Phantom is somehow more connected to the physical world. Like why is he opening doors when he can just phase through them?

Kat, who works the after school shifts at the Nasty Burger with Valerie, swears up and down that she's seen him sitting on the roof, eating two or three burgers at a time (and sharing his fries with the little blob ghost family that lives in the dumpsters).

Dale knows for a fact he's seen Phantom talking on a cell phone of all things with someone. Even claims he heard Phantom mention something about playing DOOMED.

Mrs. Greigerit, the tiny old lady who's cashiered at the grocery store since forever, loves to talk about the time Phantom grabbed a few first aid supplies off the shelves after a ghost attack to help a woman and her toddler patch up until EMS arrived. According to her, he knew exactly how to work with these things meant to heal humans, and he even left a crumpled handful of human cash on her counter to pay for the supplies before he disappeared.

Amity Park notices, just like they notice the strangeness that surrounds Danny Fenton. But really, maybe it's just AP weirdness finally rubbing off on Phantom.

Everyone brushes it off until Jack and Maddie Fenton do the unthinkable and offer their help to Phantom after a particularly nasty fight.

"We saw him there, and... we saw just another person who needed help," Jack tells Tiffany Snow later that day. "A kid who could've been going to school with mine. What else were we supposed to do?"

#danny phantom #danny fenton #amity park #headcanon #hannah rambles #idk ive been seeing a lot of art that has just ghostlier and ghostlier danny #which is great don't get me wrong #but it makes me wonder why skew all of danny to the ghost side #when you can skew one half in one way and the other half in another?#and i love cryptid-esque danny fenton #so why not have uncannily human danny phantom?

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yrsdf · 6 months

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18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

dom!mike x babysitter/virgin!reader

warning! age gap (m 25 , r 19)

also in my stories he's 6'0 not 5'5 ;-)

NOT PROOFREAD

you'll thank me later

you knew by heart that mike was not to be messed with when he had one of those shifts, the shifts that had him coming home with the struggle of the keys outside the door, which had only frustrated him even more which then proceeded with the slam of the door behind him as he'd enter the house and the deep sigh he would let out as he stood there for a minute, usually he would be silent and you'd know the usual, you knew on the nights he was mad that you had to stay quiet just out of respect (and to avoid his glare), he would pay you in cash and you'd leave, but tonight was different.

It was one of his bad nights at the pizzeria , really... bad night, you had stayed over to watch abby as you usually did and tonight she had gone over to her bestfriends house for a birthday party/sleepover, it was pouring rain out you could hear the rain as it poured down onto the house, you sat on the couch warmed by a blanket and distracted by some stupid QVC that only came on at the late night hours, you were fascinated on the crazy prices on the rings the man was showcasing on the television.

"twelve thousand for a ring...that's a bit absurd."

you mumbled lowley at yourself, followed by a awkward giggle you for some reason needed to let out, maybe so you didn't feel so alone in the house, time went by and your pocked made a low "bzzzzz" noise followed by the feeling of its vibration in your pocket, you took the phone out and flipped it open reading the message mike had sent you

(I'll be home late, feel free to stay the night .)

you send back a simplistic thanks in response, mike didn't like you driving in the rain which you always thought was sweet of him, some nights you'll stay until morning just so you wouldn't have the dangers of tackling a wet road, and idiotic drivers, although his couch was definitely old, and hard to sleep on you took the offer, thankful for the gesture.

You stood up stretching, arching your back and twisting which rewarded you with a satisfying back pop which you definitely needed, and you waltzed down the hallway and into the bathroom so you could take a shower, just as you would every night either at his place or yours. Usually you had a bag with you in case you would stay at mikes but just like any irresponsible mistake you seem to make, leaving important things at home was your most famous mistake. but you shrugged your mistake off and walked into mikes room, you snagged a folded shirt from his open drawer that he probably left open in his tired rush to work.

you finished showering and stepped out, using a towel to dry yourself off and slipped the shorts you already had on previously, and then slipped his shirt on you looked at yourself in the mirror and noticed the size of his shirt on you, you never really noticed the difference between you too, you wrapped your hair back up in the towel and left the bathroom, the steam from the hot shower followed behind you and you bumped into mike by accident, you must not have heard him come home and you looked up at him, he was definitely pissed, his gaze burning down at you, you felt small with the way he was looking down at you, as you slowly shut the bathroom door behind you his eyes were wandering, he noticed the size of his shirt on you, and how it hid your curves. your eyes met his again, you noticed he was giving you a look something primal something hungry in a sense and you tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

"Are you alright mikey?"

he took no time to respond, he had a hand on the side of your face and the other on the curve of your side. he guided you to the door your back pressing against it, he took advantage of this position, using the hand on your jaw he lifted your chin kissing you neck softly at first, you let out soft whimpers, he abruptly bit your neck, his fangs piercing you slightly causing you to jolt slightly, he licked where he bit to soothe it and continued on littering you neck in soft kisses, occasionally leaving hickies where he wanted them.

he lowered himself onto his knees and his dilated brown eyes connected with yours before he put his focus to your shorts, he took his time removing the clothing from your lower half, but he kept the shirt on you, he lowered your panties and let them fall to your feet where your shorts were, his kissed your knee first, moving his way up and attached his lips to the innards of your thigh, you let out a soft moan as you squirmed, his mouth sucking a harshly dark hickey onto your inner thigh, he detached his lips and looked back up at you

"i'm gonna take good care of you, i promise"

he said this followed with his signature grin, he attacked his lips to your clit, tongue moving in figure eights onto it, his hands gripping harshly into the back of your thighs to prevent you from moving, he soaked up all your juices, soaking himself in your scent, and taste. you squirmed and squealed, your moaning loud and uncontrolled... god were you happy abby wasn't home, your hands gripped his hair, you were grinding against his mouth and he knew you were growing close, he could tell by the way you were thrashing and mumbling unknown words, you gripped his hair roughly as you finished his tongue helped you through your high and he detached himself from you he looked up wiping his mouth.

"god...you taste amazing, can't wait to feel you wrapped around me."

his hands now lifted you up and over his shoulder, he worked his way into the kitchen and sat you on the island. you watched as he got his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open grabbing a condom from it, he sat the wallet on the counter beside you and he unbuckled his pants. his eyes now back on yours as he stepped between your opened legs.

"oh look at you... such a mess because of me, right pretty girl?"

you nodded in response as he let his pants fall to his ankles, he worked his boxers down and his size was definitely surprising. he noticed your mouth opened slightly and took this opportunity placing his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue, he worked his condom onto his shaft. the grip of his thumb in your mouth, and finger on your chin dragged your attention up to him, he was aware of you being a virgin.

"hey, hey.. eyes on me bunny, keep them right on me alright.?"

again you nodded, letting out a whimper as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, eventually sinking half of himself into you, satisfied by the gasp you let out as he entered you, he shoved the rest in as far as possible as he waited for you to be comfortable with him continuing.

"more...please"

you slurred out due to the thumb in your mouth, which he moved both hands placing one on the counter top beside you and the other wrapping around your underarms, which would brace you for his pace, he thrusted in you at a unbearable speed your moans loud and pornagraphic, your head fell back as you grew close already, his cock hitting your gspot in the perfect way which caused your second orgasm to drown you, your legs shook against his hips and your body jolted and trembled as he kept his pace steady giving you no time to adjust, you were dumb fucked, your body only upright because of the arm he had around you, you were drooling, eyes rolling back followed by your head struggling to stay upright, his teeth sunk into your neck as he grew close, you could hardly moan, silently letting out whimpers with your mouth hung wide open, his pace relentless and unbroken as the sound of skin smacking filled the once silent house, you were close to a third orgasm as he neared his first, his teeth dug into your shoulder drawing blood as the two of you came in sync, he let out a low growl against your skin as your body trembled and shook, his pace slowed as he removed his teeth from your shoulder, but he looked at you, noticing that you were asleep. he placed a soft kiss upon your cheek.

(plz comment ur thoughs)

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #x reader #yrsdf fic

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1-800-say-less · 3 months

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Can I buy a pic or video?

If the price is right...

Dm me.

#anonymous asks #be different send cash #$notortillasforu #fuck around and find out #ask box

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fuckmyskywalker · 3 months

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ani sleeping w his stepdaughter cause her mom wouldn’t put out, but he tells her it’s okay because technically she’s half her mom. so he’s not cheating.

— 18+. Smut. Dead dove do not eat. Stepcest/Fauxcest. Afab!Reader | Fem!Reader. This is sick.

— a/n: I don't know who the fuck you are but I want to kiss you. I am. Speechless. (not proofread, it is 3 am).

It was hard for him to take his eyes away from you to start with. He was supposed to be a good role model— to make up for the father you never had… and yet, he was finding himself down on his knees for you. You wanted money to get your nails done? Stepdad!Anakin is handing you the cash. You want a new skirt you saw online? Send the link to Anakin so he can get it for you. You want to relieve that uncomfortable itch that boys your age simply cannot alleviate? Oh, your stepdad is more than happy to help.

There was always a small doubt at the back of his head; you are… well, his wife’s daughter. It could be described as «logical reasoning», but Anakin is— probably— physically incapable of not thinking about you the way he should be thinking about his wife. Sometimes it brings him pure spite, even disgust… but when you are so close— yet so far, can you really blame him? Despite his years, Anakin is insanely attractive; those silver strands mixing with his blonde curls, the small wrinkles around his tired blue eyes, even those strong, hard-working hands that rest on your waist when you greet him after a long day of work… Yeah, can you really blame a man?

He has to share you with his wife, and despite being something normal, he doesn't like it— but he doesn't know it, or at least hasn't thought about it. Anakin just dislikes how you cling to your mother, it being justified. She raised you alone, she gave you the life you have— he just walked into your life and your mother’s house to make everything more perfect than it already was.

Maybe it is an insult to your mother’s intellect and integrity to… fuck you, but, can you really fucking blame Anakin?

Anakin loves how willing you are. How you are so eager to fulfill the hole your mother is slowly leaving. Late nights at the office and poor daddy is all alone… you sure needed to step up and help him, right? And it is only fair, he gives you everything you want! So you might as well pay him back somehow, right? Right?

A man has certain… urges. Everyone knows that.

You know that.

And if he is married to your mother, and you are— practically half, is it even cheating?

Because it should make you feel guilty, because his cock has no right nestling inside your tight pussy in a way that has you touching the sky, fisting your sheets and moaning his name while your phone buzzes next to your head with a miserable text that reads: «Honey, I'll work extra hours tonight, tell Anakin to buy some takeout.»

“Ignore her,” Anakin groans, pushing your head against your pillow. He pulls your hair too, yanking your head up enough to hear your moans, but low enough for your tears to be eaten by the pillow. Crying on the bed is something girls do all the time, so if your mother sees it, it would be easy to explain. “Focus on me, princess. Does it feel good?”

You nod dumbly, sometimes it seems like your brain decides to take a break every time his cock slides in. “Uh-uh,” You mumble, drool trickling down your mouth.

“Good girl. Don’t think about her. It’s her fault anyway,” Your stepdad grins, slapping your ass for good measure. He likes how responsive you are— so different from your mom. She barely makes any sound. “You feel so fucking amazing, way better than she does.”

The backhanded praise makes your stomach swirl with little butterflies. Daddy complimented you! That’s lovely. That sure fills the void inside your heart. All you wanted your whole life was approval… and now, you have the most perfect, most caring, most attentive man in the universe to give it to you.

So, naturally, you beg for more. “Yeah?” It’s a breathless weak question, but it makes Anakin’s smile grow wider. “Do I… I feel better?”

“A hundred percent, doll,” Anakin purrs, looking down your back, licking his lips already savoring the taste of your sweat, biting them when he sees your ass bouncing and thighs giggling. “I might as well divorce her and marry you instead.”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#anon #stepdad!anakin #stepdad!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut

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gloomwitchwrites · 24 days

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Hiii, how about our fav 141 men with to a very clumsy reader? Like e.g. I'm someone who keeps accidentally bumping into people while walking because apparently I can't walk a straight line???

Is that something you'd write?:3

Is this something I'd write? Absolutely. This prompt is so cute and the perfect opportunity to write a few drabbles. Thank you for sending it in, and thank you for your patience as I work through all the requests.

Find the Imagines & What If Masterlist HERE

Content & Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, canon-typical cursing

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price:

“I’m doing it.”

“No. You’re not.”

You raise the hammer.

“Put it down,” says Price pointing at the ground.

“I’m fully capable.”

“Yes,” admits Price, slowly. “But you always hurt yourself.”

Your husband isn’t wrong. Everything you’ve ever hung on the walls has resulted in a throbbing thumb.

“It’ll be different this time.”

Price shrugs. “Go on then.”

With tongue between teeth, you come down on the nail, striking thumb instead of metal. You turn to him, tears in your eyes.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Come here.”

“Don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

“Wouldn’t dare,” laughs Price, cradling your hand.

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

“We need to—”

“The milk—”

“It’s—”

Simon tugs you to the right and you growl in frustration. “Stop pulling on me.”

Simon glances down and you know he’s smirking behind the black balaclava. “You don’t know how to walk in a straight fucking line.”

“What?”

He nods toward an elderly couple. “Nearly ran them down, love.”

You roll your eyes. You’re yanked backward against Simon’s chest. He places both hands on either side of you against the cart.

“Gotta protect the elderly.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter.

Simon presses his lips to the top of your head, grinning.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

“Let me see, love.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Kyle grabs your wrist and inspects the nasty slice. You were in the kitchen preparing dinner and the knife slipped.

“At least the knife wasn’t dull,” murmurs Kyle as he rinses the wound under cold water. He gently washes it with soap, drying it afterward.

“You need to be more careful,” he says softly.

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time. I’m not interested in taking you to the hospital.”

Kyle rotates your wrist, covering the wound with a bandage, and places a soft kiss against the wrappings.

“All done.”

John "Soap" MacTavish:

“Can we—”

“Nope,” says John, shaking his head. “Focus.” He places his hands on your shoulders, urging you forward.

“You don’t need to do that.”

John twists you to the side as you almost collide with an antique tea set.

“Oh, aye. I do,” he mutters, gaze darting everywhere, looking for the next victim.

You’re the hazard. Last time the two of you went antique shopping, John had to hand over most of his cash because you kept knocking things over.

“They pack these places on purpose.”

He kisses the top of your head. “No. It’s just you, love.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

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houseofanticipation · 1 month

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It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

#CW im told this one is realer than usual so be warned #r@pe fantasy #cnc free use #cvmdump #cvmslvt #breeding toy #r@petoy #r@pe kink

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hoshigray · 8 months

Text

Sit down for this one, alright? How bout a gigolo! Toji, who stumbles upon you? The reader's friends pay for his services to help ease your stress from work, and you begrudgingly have to accept the offer. And when you finally meet him, it's a night that you were not prepared for you, mentally and physically.

A/n: camgirl! reader this, prostitute! reader that; motherfuckers, if you don't slap your favs onto the field right tf now!!?? Gege himself said that Toji is a manwhore for money and women, so you know I'm running with this idea :/ Lol but fr tho, this was a prompt that has been itching me, plus I love making these scenario thingies!! I outta write them for the other JJK men when I have the time (or maybe y'all can send asks *shrugs*). All ik is that this hot dilf bastard would make a fine gigolo, I'd happily be broke ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cw: gigolo! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - age difference (reader is at least in their mid/late-20s) - implied that reader isn't a virgin, but does try new things w/ Toji - Daddy kink - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling - prone bone + cowgirl/riding positions - scratching (m! receiving) - cervix fucking - pet names (baby, cutie, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweet thing) - praise - overstimulation - impact play; spanking (1x) - Toji lowkey simping for the cute, shy reader.

Wc: 2.2k

Gioglo! Toji...

...whose been in the field not as long as his hitman occupation, yet it's a side hustle he's good at. Like, extremely good at. His age and rough appearance wouldn't have you guess that he does this sort of thing; however, men and women sigh in heavenly familiarity just from the sheer mention of his name. When you venture deep into the streets, it's no surprise to the average goer that he is [if not one of] the best gigolo in the game. The younger male escorts find it hard to compete with him, but it's pointless going up against a man of his caliber.

...who enjoys the gigs even when going with it for all these years. Money was the only reason he turned to this hustle in the first place, so, surprisingly, he's continued with this for as long as he can. Especially now that he has two kids and is well past his younger prime, he still uses his body on clients who can't get enough of him. And the number of his customers has stayed steadily high (if not increasing by the day) throughout the years.

But who is he to call this lifestyle off? Easy cash all from some good sex? Toji has no complaints about this side hustle.

...who states he has no favorites among his clients. There are the faces he'll remember — his returning loyal customers — and then the faces only there for a quick fuck and never to be seen again. Not that Toji cares about such things at all. As far as he's concerned, he's only in it for the money. So, as long as the cash looks appealing, he doesn't care what he has to do or has to do it with. Besides, you should never mix your personal life with your profession, especially with a heavily explicit and raunchy one such as this. He lived by that motto all those years and will resume doing so. No matter how hard they plea with doe eyes for him to stay longer, he'll just give them what they want; his deep verdant eyes contrasting his raven hair, his titillating smirk on his scarred lips whispering dirty words to their ears, and his muscular body that put them under his spell in the sheets.

Toji swears he has no favorites. So he thought...

...who is a name you weren't familiar with until your friends came to you, and you expressed nothing but sheer horror after they explained. Apparently, as the most stressed and workaholic person in the group, they thought it'd be a good idea to pitch in and schedule you a night with the infamous Toji Fushiguro. You've practically begged them to reconsider, pull back from the deal, bargained, anything! Even so much as calling one of them ("Please, please, please just call this thing off!" "Sorry, Y/n. He already accepted the offer, so we can't get the money back. Plus, you're gonna be in good hands, I promise! I was with him once, and my body was never the same. I saw him the second time and, literally, my puss—" "OKAY, I GET IT, I'M HANGING UP, BYE!!").

Your objections were directed to deaf ears, so to say you were nervous the night of Toji's arrival was far from comprehension. Coming home from work was hard enough throughout the entire week, becoming difficult to stomach day by day when the fateful day came. Because you never had experience with an escort or playboy before — let alone one who's supposedly well-known to your friends and the streets! Blood running cold as you constantly look at the time, your foot thumping on the ground, and your fingers fidgeting as you wait for the stranger listed to take your virginity away. And with the sudden knock on your door, your heart almost lept out from your mouth. Oh, fucking Christ...

...who surveys your entire appearance after you open the door for him. And he takes his time drinking in your pretty figure, your smooth skin, the alluring scent of your floral lotion, and the cami romper that exhibits your shoulders and thighs to his liking. He notes you avert your gaze when his eyes find their way to yours, and he snickers. Already, he knows he'll have fun with this. "Hey, cutie," Toji says, his gruff tone rare to your ears. "Y'r name's Y/n, right? Heard about you from y'r friends, said they wanted me to treat you."

You gulp before replying. "Yes, that's me...Oh! Please come in, Mr. Fushigu—"

"Toji's enough, sweetheart." He corrects you before entering inside, taking his shoes off at the front and entering the living room. "Nice place ya got. Did'ja wanna do this here? Because I was told to take you out somewhere."

You open your mouth to answer, but you meekly retract yourself. Toji notices your quiet display, chewing on your bottom lip while playing with the tied straps of your romper on your shoulder. Damn, so fuckin' cute. He walks up to you and brings a hand to lightly seize your chin with his thumb and forefinger, and you almost want to scream at the older man examining you like some treasure. "Ya nervous?" You give a shy nod. "Aww, y're a cute lil' thing, huh?"

With hot cheeks, you avert your gaze away from him again. Your modesty amused the older man, "Relax, baby. I'm gonna take good care of you, ya hear? If y're feelin' any pain or somethin', be sure to tell me." He has you turn to him again, caressing your cheek with his warm forefinger. Your lips quiver with anxiousness when you give another nod to him. And with that silent confirmation, you've accepted what happens next.

...who enjoys breaking you down as the night goes on. He has you on your bed with your back against his chest, and he does what he can to warm your body up to him. His big hands grope your breasts and tweeze your erect nipples until one slithers down to your drenched panties and forces a finger between your slick-coated folds. Your whimpers seep past your pretty lips, gasps of air exiting your system when the man kisses your neck and sucks on your skin.

"Mmmm, so tight 'round my fingers, mama," his hoarse voice vibrates his chest. You melt while he nibbles on your ear. "Spread them legs wide fr' me." With quivering limbs, you try to do what you're told, and more wails exit your mouth as he pushes his digits to and fro from your leaky chasm.

And the moment he finally has his dick inside you? Oh, Toji relishes the sensation of you around him. Fucking so deep in the prone bone position, he hammers his pelvis to your ass, and his balls smack onto your vulva coated in slick and come. Your moans fuel him to go harder and faster; the sight of you griping the sheets beneath and your ass jolting with every thrust turns him on too much.

"Haaah—Ahhhh!! Toji, oh God," it was your first time ever in this position, and it's so intense and electrifying with how harsh the older man propels himself to you. His cock scraping your most sensitive walls, you had given up concealing your screams long ago. "It's too much for—Mmmph!! 'S too muuuch..."

"Feelin' good there, princess?"

"Nmmph!! Y-Yess," drool starts to pool on the pillow you're resting on, but you're too occupied to feel ashamed of this lewd image you're exhibiting. "Feels so good, so goo—Ohhoooo!!" Your brows trench with eyes sewn shut, and your climax begins to climb quickly. With a choked cry, you come on Toji's dick for the second time that night, tears wetting the pillowcase while your cunt flutters on him as you release.

Regardless, Toji still ruts into you even when you're under a blissful haze, not until he's done with you. "Good girl, cummin' on my dick like that — Nmmph!!" He pulls out of you, spilling his load onto you, covering your asscheeks and lower back.

...who was surprised to see you again after a week, scheduling him with you on another weekend. Not like he had any objections to it, absolutely not. Because when he sees you give him a bashful smile and wave, he can't help but smirk and walk in your direction. "Well, hey, sweet thing." He'd greet and kiss your cheek before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Liked how I took care of you last time?"

You'd pull your stare to the ground yet give him a curt nod, the older man only finding your interaction adorable. "Uh-huh..." And Toji wastes no time wrapping an arm around your waist and walking with you to the nearest hotel.

And he's even more perplexed to see you two weekends after that...and the other two after that...Gradually, you've become a frequent client of his. That fact alone is enough to have him drop what he's about to do to have availability for you.

...who'd start to find himself slowly attracted to you the more you see him. It wasn't about the money when it came to you. In fact, no one knows you pay him significantly lower than the others. Can you blame him, though? When a doll like you always offers him to stay the night at your play after sex or treat him to meals sometimes, it's hard for the man to not feel some type of way about you. The two of you are aware that this relationship is founded on sex for the sake of your stress relief. Yet as the days go on, it's difficult for Toji to not fall in love and be enamored with your charming and sweet self.

Nevertheless, he'd be lying if he said the sex wasn't good between you two. Because it's quite the opposite, especially as Toji observes how sexually free you become with his visits. Whether it be you scratching on his back while he drills his dick into you, marking his tanned skin of your nails ("Oh, my God! I'm so sorry about that!" You'd apologize profusely, but he'd counter with a chuckle. "It's fine, cutie. It's not the first time I got scratched up by a kitten."). Or whether you'd allow him to convince you to try other positions — like his favorite, the full nelson.

Or, in times like this, when you'd have more confidence than before and ask if you'd ride him. And with a grin, Toji lies back and watches you bounce on his cock. An erotic image that he'd love to keep in his memory for as long as he can.

"Ohhh...Hmmm—Ahhnnn!!" Your cries as you straddle him in a desperate tempo, taking in his girth inch by inch, are music to his ears. The view of your beautiful, sweaty, hot body hopping on his dick is recorded with lustful forest-green eyes. "Ahhhh!! Feels so good, Toji, so—Ahhhh!!!"

"Not so fast there, sweetheart." Toji smacks your bare ass, prompting you to come down and lay your head on his shoulder. You look to see his eyes peer down to your teary ones."What's my name again?"

"Hmmm, sorry, Daddy," you correct yourself, your cunt twitching on his length when the title slips out. "Pleaseeee, forgive me—Eeeiiii!! Oh, Jesus..."

Toji grabs your butt with his hands, propelling them downward to match the jerk of his hips, and the tip of his length makes contact with your cervix. Choked sobs strain out from your throat as he kisses your temple. "Good girl, that's my fuckin' girl..."

Oh, fucking shit! It's coming. It's coming! "Daddy, please, I'm about to cum...Ohhhh, gonna cum—Mmmph!!" The older man silences you with his lips on yours, and you follow suit by wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the passionate kiss. The motion of your hips goes erratic with his, your orgasm coming up for the both of you with the increased speed. It's there you two succumb to climaxing, the walls of your slit clasping around his cock while he pumps the last of his essence into you. Groans and whimpers are exchanged between clingy mouths.

A wave of calm soon calms the air and your sweaty frames stick together. He resumes kissing you until your sensitive body has had enough, removing your lips from his teasing teeth. "Thank you, Toji. Thank you..."

Even out of breath, his scarred lip uproots to a smirk. "Y're so fuckin' cute, ya know that, mama?"

...who understands he's breaking his own rule when it's just you. It's never good mixing business with personal life. He was in it for the money from the start, and that mentality has done him well throughout the years. Do whatever the clients ask, take the money, and move on. Can't attach yourself to them. Now, he's found himself going against his motto; enjoying his time with you more than any of the others he's been with, looking forward to seeing you again to enjoy having you to himself. Whenever you aren't around him, it's evident that you will cloud his mind until you text or call.

But as he's stated before: as long as their cash in front of him and both parties get what they want, there's no need to have favorites...However, as long it's just you, he'll always be willing to make an exception.

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kiwanopie · 2 years

Text

Sunshine

small pregnancy mention. boyfriend!kiyoomi part III!!

There’s a feminine voice coming from the bathroom when Atsumu enters his hotel suite.

“Don’t you think you’re being just a little over dramatic?”

There’s a light sound of clanking when he sets his overnight bag to the side, water running and the sound of fizzling foam. Sakusa’s feet make shadows under the door as Atsumu creeps closer, and shallows his breathing to effectively eavesdrop.

“No.” He huffs like he’s pouting, and the voice giggles. “I’m gonna die here, you know. I hate sharing a room.”

“Mmh.” You hum. “Does that apply to me?”

“You’re different.”

Atsumu gapes a little.

There’s… no way Omi’s gone and found himself a girlfriend. No way. I mean, sure, his body’s a ten but-

“You’ll live, baby. I promise.” Your voice breaks a little from the wavering reception of the hotel suite. “Plus, Miya’s your friend. Better him than anyone else, huh?”

Sakusa huffs. “Yeah, but he’s a pig. At least Shoyo-kun knows not to leave his dirty socks laying around.”

Atsumu grins. He didn’t disagree! Before furrowing again. Wait, he calls him Shoyo-kun?

“Doesn’t that guy also stay up till like 3am? I remember you being really grumpy about that last time you shared a room.”

Last season?

“Yeah.” Sakusa sighs, and there’s a rush of water that muffles him for a moment. Muted voices cottoned by white noise and Atsumu nearly starts to back away when the water finally stops.

“I miss you so much.” He hears clear as day, but even then Atsumu debates if he imagined it.

“I miss you too, Omi.” You sigh, a faint rustling hissing through his speaker. “It’s just three days. Then I’ll be all over you again.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Atsumu blows out a breath through his nose. This is definitely his girlfriend. He’s never heard Omi speak like this to anybody. - And he’s seen him with his mom before. Hearing Omi talk so sweetly almost makes him feel like his brain is making it up, and he’s all but pressing his head against the door just to be sure that this is a real thing.

“‘You eaten yet by the way? I can send you some money so you can-“

“I’ve eaten, baby, yes.” You chuckle. “What is your deal? Money’s not a love language, you know. - My friends think you’re my sugar daddy.”

“I’m a pro athlete.” He says frankly. “And I don’t like seeing you spend your hard earned cash when you could be spending mine.”

“What’ll be the point of me working then?”

“Exactly, quit your job.” And the way he says it has you full out laughing.

“You know, if you’re gonna turn me into a housewife, I’d like to see a ring first.”

Sakusa’s voice sounds muffled under a towel when he retorts. “That can be arranged.”

You guffaw this time, a little airy, a little ugly. “Yeah? Well the sooner you get home the sooner you can make an honest woman outta me. Hell, next thing I know you’ll have me barefoot and pregnant.”

“Don’t just say things like that, I can’t get off with Atsumu in the same room as me.”

“Goodbye, Kiyoomi.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” And the desperation in his friend's voice nearly inclines him to audibly scoff in disbelief. This guy’s really hooked, huh?

“Yeah, sunshine?”

“I love you.”

Atsumu starts to choke on his spit.

Laptop

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