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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

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Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

#pluralistic #trustbusting #big tech #gift guide #kickstarter #the internet con #books #audiobooks #enshitiffication #disenshittification #crowdfunders #seize the means of computation #audible #amazon #verso

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bugmin · 10 months

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little brother has beef w me coz i wont let him put (at least) 20 dollars on my credit card for something that does not work at all the way he thinks it does. baby u will thank me when ur frontal cortext grows a size and u still have 20 dollars in ur pocket coz ur big sister told u no for once in ur life

#txt #i would quite literally walk thru fire and swim across the ocean for him #but i will not let him spend money on something he will only be dissapointed by #esp if ur putting it on MY credit card. idc if its (AT LEAST) 20 dollars idc if u pay me back its a stupid waste of money #go to the fuckin library. read a book for once #not to mention i just spent 700 on a new laptop. hehe btw im on my new laptop . if u even care #been using the same one for 8 years . it wouldnt even work unless it was plugged in #and once it started turning off if i moved the charger slightly. yeah it was time. id worn it out to its motherfuckin bones #this si the first like. big purchase ive made w my own hard earned money #everything else has been goodwill and food lmfao

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neil-gaiman · 8 days

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Id like to let you know that I recently lost my annotated and very well-loved copy of Fragile Things in the San Diego Airport.

Rather, I lent it to a goth kid who'd been sitting next to me and wanted to know if I had an Android charger. I did. She plugged her phone in, and a pinhole light on the screen blinked into life. We both looked at the otherwise dead screen for a moment, and I asked her where she was flying to. New York, she said.

Then she asked me what book I was reading - Fragile Things, I told her, by the same guy who wrote Coraline. What's it *about*, though, she asked again.

Im at best a mediocre writer, so I rather gave her the book than trying to explain things myself. I figure some folks get Hugos for writing stories, and I should let 'em do it.

She didnt seem to mind my scribbles in the margins, and it was fun, watching a painted face that looked so somber and serious just a few minutes ago smile. A Study in Emerald had its surprising share of humour. After a while, I stopped paying attention and scrolled absentmindedly through my phone.

Then I hear my flight called - San Diego to Philadelphia, the boarding now, group C, C as in Coconut. I grab my bag, my phone, my ticket, pat my pockets down for my passport, my overstuffed backpack, precariously balanced on my carryon luggage, my headphone wires tangled in the strap of my purse and jerked out of my ears. I trot hastily over to the gate check - a smile, a beep, and I'm shuffled down the gangway and into the plane. My things stowed, and myself cozy against the window.

This was when I went to reach for my book, and realised that it was missing - still nestled comfortably in the hands of a 15-odd goth.

I miss my book. It had many memories in it, beyond the stories told there. My grandfather was still alive when i first read Fragile Things, and he was the one who gave it to me. But I hope that the kid who has it now will also love the stories you wrote. I hope maybe she will remember me and our little story, that we now share. Maybe she will also keep other memories of her own in there.

It seems an oddly fitting way for me to part with this book. It was an old fragile thing, given to me by a fragile man, and left to a child with whom i had only a fragile, tenuous connection.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into things, i don't know.

At any rate, if you read all this rambling, thank you mister Gaiman.

I hope it was the book she needed.

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thebibliosphere · 2 months

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Minor heads up but given some new nonsense with my audiobook distributor Findaway Voices and their new ToS regarding Spotify (Courtney Milan has broken it down fairly well on Twitter), I may end up pulling the audiobooks from everywhere except Audible and my Payhip store. This means the majority of my global access and access to library services will be lost.

I’d prefer not to do this, obviously. A not insignificant chunk of my income comes from library lending when it comes to audio. But Spotify potentially being able to make translations of my work without permission or any royalties going to me (not to mention their own derivatives of my work) is hair raising.

Findaway already issued another email stating that they are ‘working to clarify any unclear language’ (it’s pretty fucking clear; they were just banking on people not reading it like they did the whole AI scraping debacle) likely due to being inundated with complaints and authors pulling their work left, right and center.

Hopefully any changes they make will make this less of a fucking nightmare, but regardless I will be pulling the books from Spotify. I’ve already submitted the changes. So, sorry if you were listening on Spotify but we live in the bad timeline and can’t have shit 🙃

I’m still going to wait on their update before I pull the plug entirely, but Jesus Fuck. Between this and Ingram Spark being a perpetual nightmare it’s like they want to drive people to Amazon.

I’m so tired.

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traceybrakes · 6 months

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Let's Talk About Un-ironicizing Art!

In light of a lot of the conversations i've seen surrounding Death Grips and recent events concerning them, I want to take the time to point out that this is a good time to start thinking about how we engage with art on the whole!

For a long time, the irony poisoned method of consumption went unchecked in all facets of internet culture. As an internet musician in current day, I have noticed a sharp disconnect between artists and enthusiasts/casual listeners when it comes to attitudes surrounding music specifically, though I've witnessed it permeate all forms of art in some way.

I see people who have grown scared to engage on deeper levels, intentionally severing any resonant connections or knowledge learned from a piece of media before it has the chance to take root. In short, dare to be vulnerable! Dare to enjoy something on the basis that you yourself resonate with it, and not for any other nebulous reasoning. When masses of people relegate art to a spectacle, not only do artists become more likely to be disenchanted with the passions that fuel their work, but the consumer base ultimately suffers as well. All art at that point becomes less an extension of ourselves, less a vehicle to explore our identities, and is rendered a meaningless hulking sludge, or worse, the opponent to an already shrinking and narrow worldview.

Be not afraid to be unabashedly in love with the work that inspires you. Be not afraid to have the things you love misunderstood by by some. When you engage with work new and old, make sure to do it for yourself. Making and consuming art is inherently selfish, but being selfish is not inherently misguided. Allow yourself to learn, grow, discover, and repeat that cycle until the day you die.

To speak more candidly about my own experience, throughout the course of my life, there has been art that I've held near and dear to my identity, and own journey of self discovery that I seldom find others who hold the same sentiments to. I've always found this exciting. Exciting to hold something close to my chest as something so personal, and even more exciting when I can ease up on that grip when I find someone who I can share that with. However, I've also been through the throws of how the internet tends to chew up and spit out art that generally isn't understood by the many. I've fallen victim myself to the hive mind mentality that circles some artists and the cult of non-identity around them. This off-color ouroboros of knowing all about an artist's work and simultaneously upholding this facade of vapid complacency. I've come to the conclusion that if being openly supportive and connected to an artist's work or a particular piece of work automatically renders a person uninteresting and unambiguous at the very least, then I will live happily as an uninteresting open book. At the worst times, we see this line of thinking contribute to Death Grips being mocked and belittled en masse by people who are unwilling to engage with their art before they even get that far. It's heartbreaking, to me at least to see people put so much effort, emotion, and passion into transforming culture for the better to be rewarded with a crowd that's plugging their ears.

I realize I run the risk of sounding pretentious, self indulgent, or even patronizing to an extent; I apologize because that isn't my intention, I'm hoping to see gears shift at least on a micro level surrounding attitudes towards art appreciation. Remember to dare to be in love holistically with the art you engage with! Speak of the things you love in a way that makes that clear to others, and consider your peers to do the same! You and the people around you can only be better off for it.

#long post #really long post #music #death grips #the internet is full of bright and beautiful art so why not help yourself

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rottenblur · 3 months

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So soaked|A.ANDERSON

Part two to post workout pump | 2k words

Summary: After a successful night with your tinder hookup you spend a very eventful morning with her further proving she’s the one for you, and that you’ll never shower alone again.

Warning: smut, dirty talk, shower sex, head, fingering, abby being the cutest, choking, domestic ass abby, kinda fluff???

The touch of soft sheets against your bare legs, you wiggle them around then realize this wasn’t the couch, your eyes open. You gaze around, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, she had carried you to her bed? Without waking you?

Who was she, what was this? Were you in some kind of romance movie? You look at the bedside table, a glass of water and a book.

You really didn’t take in much of the bedroom, didn’t look to see if she had good “interior design” you were too busy moaning her name, well you were caught up in the moment for sure.

You move the duvet past your elbows then look to the other side of the bed. You run your hands across the sheets, you wonder if she slept with you.

You sit up, god. You hadn’t thought about it but maybe fucking then spending the night with someone you just met, off tinder of all places wasn’t the smartest on your part.

You look at the floor, to your discarded clothes, brushing it off then grabbing your phone. You look at it, it’s dead. You lean back onto the bed then stand up.

You walk through the bedroom doorway to the living room, grazing your free hand on the white door frame. You look around the living room, for a cord to plug your phone into, you look up at the closed door the opposite side to Abby’s door.

You shouldn’t snoop, but where was she? Did she fuck and dip in her own house? You lay down your phone on the coffee table, and walk to the door. Hovering your hand on the door knob, you lean in. Behind the door you hear heavy breathing and grunting, oh.

You crack the door open, knowing damn well how rude it probably was. You see her, sweaty with her hair down with nothing but a sports bra and boxers on. They were tight around her leg muscles, nothing like how they looked on you. Her arm freckles shiny from the natural sunlight peaking in.

She mutters a quiet “fuck.” as she presses the weights down to her chest then pushes them back up, her hand engulfing the bar. She puts the bar back on the holder, wary of making any noise she must think you’re still asleep. It’s stalkerish how you’re watching her, when she sits up and pushes her light locs behind her ear it almost makes you squeeze your legs together.

She grabs a white towel off the floor, she pats it on her forehead, you pan your eyes how her legs are spread wide on the bench. You pull yourself from continuing to watch her like a creep and knock on the already cracked open door.

She looks at you, her face lightening up. “Hey uh, sorry for creeping on up, my phone is dead so-“ she smiles and stands up. “Of course, in the kitchen.”

She walks you to the kitchen guiding you there with a hand on your hip, you plug in your phone and watch the screen light up. The notifications from your friends asking how the date went flood in, Abby leans down to kiss your neck. “Goodmorning, sleep well?” She asks, you drop your phone back into the counter and tilt your head for easier access.

“So good.” You mutter under your breath. She sucks on a special spot just below your eye and releases with a pop. “Wanna shower with me?” She whispers into your ear, placing delicate kisses in between words. Her hand dancing around your waist, how could you say no. You nod, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She twirls you around, she peeks behind you at your phone blowing up. “I can answer those later.” You say and smile, she smiles back.

She walks you to the bathroom, your hand in hers. She turns on the shower, putting your hand under the water to make sure it’s the perfect temperature for you, it’s the little things about her that make you crazy.

She kisses your forehead then strips you out of your clothes, you step into the shower letting the water refresh you after the events of last night. She strips off her clothes and steps in right behind you. You turn around to face her, she looks down at you and for the first time she looks shy.

You can’t focus on any thoughts with how fucking adorable she looked, like a scary dog that only wants to cuddle. You put your arms around her neck and kiss her cheek, she grabs your chin directing it to her lips. She pulls away with a smile on her face, you reach over to her array of body products, but she stops you.

“Let me.” She says and grabs the body wash, she squirts out a decent amount and starts forming suds all over your body. The shower filled with the scent of pine and sandalwood, her in the purest form.

She turns you around, moving her hands from your arms to your chest, god the adrenaline she gave you every time she touched you. Butterflies from your stomach right down to where it matters. She moves her hand down to your stomach, she rests her hands on your hips as the suds wash off.

You can feel her breathing down your neck, sending shivers right down your spine flush with her exposed body. She turns you around one last time, she takes the remaining suds rubbing them across your ass, she’s not shy enough to not grab your ass right now.

You look at her face, then down to her sud covered chest and stomach, the strawberry blonde hair peeking out from in between her muscled thighs. You feel your breath hitch, then you look back up at her, fuck you were lucky.

You had known her barely 24 hours and you were butt ass naked in her shower as she washed your body. All because of some stupid dating app.

She leans down, kissing along your neck to your collarbones, the remainder of suds washing away as she places her hands back onto your ass. She pulls you closer to her by the grip on your ass, her body flush to yours.

“You look so fucking adorable darling.” You whine out a response as she kisses the perfect spot on your neck. It’s surely to be bruised after this shower, she attaches her plush lips to yours.

Transferring one hand to your neck with a gentle squeeze by her fingertips, the other to the back of your thigh. She walks you to the shower wall, hand still tightly wrapped on your neck. “You want this?” She asks, you nod. “More than you could know, I need it.”

You admit, she looks at you for a second then removes her hand from your neck, she kneels before you then puts a thigh on her freckled shoulder, she holds it there as she leans into where you need her.

Her lips connect to your heat, the water dribbling over the two of you making you feel hotter than you were. She licks a stripe up your clit then sucks on it, she looks up at you then mumbles something incoherent.

You tangle your hands into her hair, your back flush to the damp tiles. “Huh?” You ask her, as if her mouth wasn’t preoccupied by devouring you.

She looks back down, disconnecting her mouth, then her eyes come back to your face. “I could spend all day between your thighs.” She says with a smirk.

Blush covers your face as those blue eyes stare at you so innocently, after saying such a vile thing to you. You huff at her pulling her mouth back to you to shut her up, if she kept talking like that you wouldn’t last long.

Her grip on your thigh gets tighter, her mouth quickens her tongue dancing across your clit so perfect and planned. If you looked at her for too long, how her hand wrapped around your thigh, how she was on her knees for you, your knees weaken.

She caught on to your tightly shut eyes in concentration making sure not to miss a single flick of her tongue, she made it impossible to not look at her.

She looked up at you and pulled her mouth away, replacing it with a hand drawing slow and gentle circles on your clit, torture. “You’re gonna watch me eat your perfect fucking pussy or I won’t eat it at all.” She says to you, no she demands you.

You nod quickly. “Please, I will.” You beg her, your hips bucking at her slow fingers. “Good, good girl.” She says and leans back in, but this time it was different. It’s almost like that knowing you were watching her pulled something feral out of her because she fucking ate you up.

Her mouth attacked you like it was craving you for years, it was aggressive but not sloppy, it almost had more precision than before. You feel your knees weaken, you almost couldn’t stand. “F- fuck Abs I can’t ‘m gonna-.” You stuttered out to her and before you could finish your sentence she had dropped your thigh and stood up.

“Not yet darling.” She said towering over you, she grabs your chin and kisses you, you can taste yourself binded with her spit, your legs felt like they had melted long ago.

She pulls away, her hand wrapping around your throat keeping you in place, she looks at you as she slips her fingers inside you. Your walls clenching around them, she moves them gently then connects her lips with yours.

You push your tongue into her mouth, she groans into your mouth. Her hand on your neck tightens, making you feel lighter, her fingers speeding up, with force and intention the tips curling to your favourite spot to be abused. Her kisses are just as aggressive as her hands, your teeth banging with urgency and need.

You feel your walls begin to pulse, she pulls away from you to watch you come undone all over her. She nods at you as you whimper her name. “Just like that, such a beautiful little thing.” She says with a smirk as she attacks your gummy walls with a thrust of her fingers one last time.

She pulls out, her hand loosening from around your neck, you stare at her freckled face as you come down from your high.

She smiles at you, giving you a kiss and wiping a wet strand of hair out of your face, she holds your jaw for a moment just stroking your cheek with her thumb. She could be so sweet then be so aggressive in only ways you want her to be.

“You okay?” She asks, in a genuine tone. You nod with a smile, she smirks back. “Definitely more than okay.” You say wrapping your arms around her. “Ready to get out?” You tilt your head, did she just ask you to leave? “..of the shower darling.” She laughs, you almost laugh with her.

She wraps you in a towel, and sits you on her bed to wait for clothes, you didn’t want clothes around her. You wanted her to stare at every inch of your body 24/7 and personally you think she’d like it.

“Do you want pants or-“ she asks you and you shake your head, there was no need. You get dressed in a hoodie of hers and watch her slip on a t-shirt that was loose on her for once, made her look cute.

After you both got dressed she led you out the living room giving you a kiss and sitting next to you on the couch. She looks over at the kitchen then to you. “I’m going to make breakfast okay? You hungry?” She asks.

You smile at her. “Always.”

A/n: sorry i havent posted in so long why is writing fluff SO HARD i wanna post part three to my college abby

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togenabi · 7 months

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my home is where your heart is

inumaki toge x reader

♡—your things keep winding up in toge's place, and his things in yours. what are you going to do about it?

word count♡— 1k

genre♡— fluff. pure fluff

content notes♡— blushy toge, established relationship, moving in together, dancing in the kitchen in the refrigerator light vibes, megumi gives advice

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is an overdue request! anon, if you see this I'm sorry this took me a while! I kept it short, but did not hold back on the fluff. please enjoy!

“Toge,” You call for your boyfriend, who is currently sprawled over your couch. “Have you seen my charger?”

Toge looks up from his phone, pausing for a moment to think. After briefly looking confused, he lights up and lifts his hands to sign, ‘I think you left it at my place.’

“Ah,” Not again. Must this always happen? “Remind me to get it back next time we’re there.”

He nods and gets up, gesturing for you to hand over your phone. Toge moves to charge it with his own charger.

“Thanks.” You kiss his cheek, relishing the way he blushes. Flustered, it takes him more than one try to plug the charger into the wall socket. You can’t help but shake your head at him. He’s just too cute sometimes.

About the case of things going missing, however, it happens to Toge too.

You were cleaning up your apartment when it suddenly started raining. Thoughts of Toge in the rain immediately caused you to worry, but you managed to calm down somewhat. He should be fine since he has an umbrella.

Only, he doesn’t. You stare at the compact, foldable umbrella in horror. It’s positioned beside yours at your apartment’s entryway.

Toge, completely drenched, arrives at your place an hour or so after that. Luckily, you anticipated as much, and already had a change of clothes, towels, and warm food ready for him.

He gives you a kiss on the cheek this time, walking backwards into the bathroom, forming a heart with his hands and a goofy smile glowing on his face.

The more time you and Toge spent in each other’s places, the more your things seemed to shuffle about. Your book on his desk. His jacket in your closet. An accessory of yours on his bedside table. That snack he bought is somewhere in your cupboard. It was getting confusing, how your lives were getting tangled up in two separate places.

“The solution is obvious, isn’t it?” Megumi asks one night when you bumped into him at a convenience store. “Move in with him.”

“Oh.” Speechless, you can only blink at him in response. “We’ve never really talked about that.”

Megumi shrugs, “Sounds like that talk’s overdue, if you ask me.”

And maybe it is, because you’re seriously considering it when you can’t find a single pen in your apartment. Why do ballpens vanish when you need them, and why are there so many of them when you don’t?

But of course, you find your favorite ballpen in a mug Toge had turned into a pen holder, sitting with his other pens and markers.

You must have been staring at the pen—at his desk—for quite some time. It makes Toge look at you with concern in his eyes.

“Takana?” He asks, checking on you while resting a hand on your arm.

Snapping out of it, you try to gather your courage to bring up living together. There’s no reason for him to say no, right? And you’d be fine whichever place he chooses. Or maybe, you could meet in the middle and look for somewhere new?

The thought of apartment hunting with Toge strangely sends butterflies in your stomach. But before you get ahead of yourself, you have to properly ask him about it first.

“What do you think about living together?” You blurt out, and your heartbeat feels rapid and unsteady. Suddenly, it feels like you’re confessing to him all over again.

Toge breathes out a laugh, pulling you into his arms. Nestling his head into the crook of your neck, he accepts. “Shake.”

“Really?” Stunned that it was that easy, it takes you a second before you return his embrace. “Where should we go?”

He pulls back to kiss the tip of your nose cutely. Smiling, he motions to sign, ‘Wherever you want! I’ll follow you anywhere.’

It takes several weeks of planning and headaches, but you and Toge manage to find a new home. It’s close by, still in the same neighborhood that you’re used to. You didn’t want to move too far from this community and your loved ones.

Other than that, your main goal was to find a place with more space than either of your previous residences. You wanted to organize storage properly. Contrary to your expectations and true to his word, Toge wasn’t picky at all. He was just happy to always be close to you.

As you were unpacking food and supplies in the kitchen, you looked over at your boyfriend. He was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, configuring the wifi.

“Toge, should we have food delivered? Or would you like to cook in the new kitchen?”

Mouthing, he responds, ‘Cook.’

You gasp, delighted he chose so. “Okay! Let me know if I can help you.”

He quickly fiddles with the wifi router before waving at you to come over. You laugh, “I meant I’d help with the cooking, but sure.”

Toge gets up, taking one of your hands in his. He presses something on his phone before reaching for the other.

The expression on his face is playful and sweet as he places your hands behind his neck; your fingertips brush against the ends of his hair. Music starts playing the moment he holds onto your waist.

It’s strange, nothing has changed about the room. You’re still surrounded by countless unpacked boxes from the move, and yet the apartment has never felt so vibrant.

Is it the music? The song he played fills the space and bounces back from every corner, breathing life into your new home.

It could also be the way he dances with you, making you feel like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. No other’s company you’d rather have.

Or, it must be all of that and how he looks at you while he mouths, ‘I love you.’ Because you love him too.

A few days later, while out on a date, Toge asks if you’ve seen his charger.

You hum in thought. “Did you leave it at home?”

Amused, he looks at you funny before pointing to your heart. ‘Is it in there, then?’

“I don’t understand.” You admit, waiting for him to elaborate.

‘My home is where your heart is.’

taglist: @flowerjun @songsofadelaide-archive @mellozhi @luccaaedd @ihaveanexistentialcrisis @starszns @msmisasoup @appalost @akakaze @isentsworld @hellyyy06 @lownna

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sttoru · 2 months

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

wc. 3.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

great.

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

greaaat.

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

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

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

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

you are next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ah, fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a bullet wound? you’re not sure.

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

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

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

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

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

what am i thinking?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i don’t need anythin’.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he may actually need it, but he does not want to accept it.

despite those thoughts, he’s too weak. way too weak. he doesn’t like being weak. feeling weak is not his thing. vulnerability doesn’t suit him.

“you have a fuckin’ death wish,” the man scoffs. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto consciousness, but that is the last thing he cares about. he wants you gone. out of sight.

you stay in place. even through his chilling death threats. you can feel the blade start to invade the first layer of your skin. it hurts already. normally, you would’ve run. you want to. your mind tells you to get the hell out, but your heart and body yells at you to stay.

“i’ll give ya three seconds,” the stranger continues. he’s close. so close that you can feel his hot breath against your freezing cheeks. it’s intimidating, however not enough to scare you away.

the tighter your grip on the scarf against his abdomen, the tighter his grip on the handle of the knife. time will tell who’ll win this battle.

“three.”

the countdown starts. you swallow your own spit. the rain has you completely drenched. you catch a glimpse of the puddle underneath you both. the colour of it a light red as the man’s blood flows and mixes with the clear water.

“two.”

his voice is quieter than before. he’s losing his strength, but is stubborn enough to firmly keep the knife below your chin. you’re sure that your own blood is already trickling down the shiny metal.

the man’s lips part to announce the last number. your last chance. your final opportunity to escape and act like you have never seen him. you can go back to your normal life—continue living in your own world. the one you are familiar with.

one without this unknown man. this man with an aura of a cold hearted killer.

you fingers curl tightly against the scarf pressed against his wound. you refuse to let up. even if it means your own death. your eyes close—cold damp droplets roll down your cheeks. you don’t know if they’re your tears or if it’s just the pouring rain.

you hear a low, frustrated groan. he sounds so close yet so far from you. you can feel the man’s arm move to adjust his grip. probably to try and flawlessly puncture your jaw.

if only you accepted to eat out with your friend. if only you turned around and went back to your dorm the moment you knew it was going to rain. if only you didn’t take this shortcut today.

if only your fates hadn’t clashed.

“one.”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk x y/n #toji x you #please give it lots of love 🙇🏽‍♀️

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satorusdiary · 1 year

Text

“no fuss or ima fuck you in this library.”

Plug!Eren x reader

Warnings: Thigh riding, orgasms, fucking in a library, sexual interactions, cursing, smut, idk anything else lmk

Summary: You went to go study in the universities library and you drag your boyfriend Eren along. It’s strange how he willingly wants to go, but you should’ve known better when you couldn’t focus whilst studying thanks to him.

Authors note: Erens down bad for his girlfriend <3

Eren has the best weed around the area. Everyone knew that. Mostly everyone on campus bought from him, or wanted to buy from him. Luckily, you didn’t have to buy from him. You were able to get all of that stuff for free.

Because you were his lovely girlfriend, his other half, his everything. As of right now, Eren was laying on your bed with his hands behind his head, laying against your comfy pillows. Watching you get ready out of no where.

“Where you goin, mama?” He questioned, placing his phone down on your neatly tidied blanket.

“Library, you wanna come with me, rennie?” You pulled up your skirt, giving Eren a good view of your ass that was practically glued to your skirt.

You knew Eren wasn’t the type to go to the library, or even step foot in a library. Did he even ever go in a library before? You didn’t know. That’s also a question you ask yourself for how Eren didn’t drop out.

“Why’tha fuck you goin to a library? Just study here. You can sit on my face while you doin that.” Eren smirked and sat up from your bed, putting a shirt over his bare, toned body.

“I don’t have the books i need, i cannot fail this exam ren.. My dad would kill me!” You whine, engulfing your tall boyfriend into a hug. The smell of weed coming into your senses making you look up at him with a bitchy expression.

His eyes were red, of course. When were his eyes never red, um never..? That’s funny thinking something like that, but him smoking without you wasn’t. That’s how you guys became close anyways, by being smoking buddies.

Then you fell in love with him, your plug who would only give you weed if you let him fuck. But when you both started getting more serious, relationship wise you been getting everything free.

You couldn’t be blamed though, who would charge their own girlfriend for weed? Not Eren of course, he spoils you like a princess. His princess. His lil spoiled princess.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into him more, ignoring the pissed off expression and just engulfs you in a kiss. You couldn’t resist, you kissed him back pouring all your love into it.

“Go with me rennie, pleasee. You smoked without me, come to the library with me to make it up for me.” You pouted. Eren snickered and kissed your temple, rubbing the side of your waist up and down.

“Aight, could’ve jus made it up to you by fuckin you, but whatever floats your boat..” He mumbles and pulls his jacket over his torso.

You rolled your eyes and walked out of your dorm, Eren following you from behind. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his warmth as you both walked out of the dormitory.

The library was crowded as you expected. Many others were studying for the upcoming exams, luckily for you, you knew a secluded area with two large book shelves covering it.

“it’s crowded here, let’s go back hm baby?” Eren pulled your hand that was engulfed with his, trying to take you out of the library.

Him being in a library was unusual for him. There were that strong book smell flooding the area, and a bunch of people rushing to grab a book they probably aren’t reading.

“No—no! I know an area, jus follow me babe.” You pulled him along towards the secluded area. There was no one in sight, which made you grin proudly.

“an empty area? fuckin nerd.. knowin all the secret areas in a library..” Eren mumbled and pulled a chair, sitting down and grabbing his phone from his pocket.

“Bitch? no, i just found this area the last time i studied here.” you defended yourself whilst picking out a book from the top shelf, going on your tippy toes. You got the book with no problem.

“No fuss, mama. Or ima fuck you in this library, on my soul.” He glared at you, watching as you walked towards him.

“Sorry rennie.” You took a seat on his lap, on one of his legs, knowing that you weren’t sorry at all.

He smirked, effortlessly sliding his hand under your shirt to run your back. It send chills down your spine, because of how col his hands actually were. You silently cursed to yourself, but ignored it as you were reading the book.

The both of you sat in silence, comfortable silence. With you studying, and Eren making deals with some clients on his phone, the area was only filled with your guys aura. It was a cute, comfortable, and not awkward.

When Eren accidentally bounced his leg upwards, your lower part of your body feels something electrical. It partly startled you, and it made you lose what you were reading on your book, making Eren apologize.

“Sorry mama, didn’t mean to move.” He uttered into your ear. The sounds of a few college students talking from across the large bookshelves covering you both coming into your senses. But it doesn’t distract you from the sudden heat your cunt is feeling.

You’re feeling needy, needy for Eren. You didn’t even know you started rolling your hips on Eren’s thigh. That was until you dropped your book from behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck harder.

“ohh, renniee.” You moaned lightly, you knew your underwear was beginning to get wet.

It caught Eren by surprise when you moaned out loud, then he noticed how you started rubbing your pussy against his thigh.

“This what you doin? Dirty girl, doing this in public?” Eren chuckled and placed his arms on your waist, guiding you to ride his thigh.

“need you s’bad rennie.” You mumbled.

Eren laughs, deep and low. you feel the rumbles of his chest through your chest since you were pressed against him. you've never felt so attracted to someone as much as you did right now.

Your motivation to study, and ace your exams switched to lust for your boyfriend. And man, he wasn’t backing down. He wanted to give you what you wanted, like the hood boyfriend he is. He pinches sharply at your waist, before dipping into your neck, pressing wet kisses up the length of it, lightly sucking to leave hickeys.

You placed your hands under his jaw when he pulled his head away from your neck. After leaving multiple hickeys. You pulled him into a kiss. Your lips sucking at his bottom lip making him softly grin at your actions. His hands were on your waist, moving and guiding your hips above his crotch. You felt his clothed budge under your crotch as well.

His hands that were roaming your bare legs lifted up the skirt you wear wearing, his cheeks were slightly red, from the slight movement you've been making that's gotten him hard under your touch.

“Y’just know how to get me hard, huh sweet girl?” You grinned and nodded, rubbing his arm up and down seductively.

Luckily the area was secluded, not many others knew about the area you both were in. So once Eren picked you up, and placed you on one of the counters you knew everything was going to go down. If someone were to walk in on you both, you were fucked.

"Let me see that dripping cunt." You whimpered and swallowed your breath before slowly parting your legs giving a slight glimpse of your clothed folds, that were soaked and glistening with your wetness. Eren thinks he's died and gone to heaven with this sight that was blessed for his eyes, and his eyes only. What made it even better was when he took off your underwear, stuffing it in his pocket.

Now he was able to see what he’s been wanting to see. His beautiful girl, and the meal she has waiting for him. Always.

“..‘m so lucky to be your boyfriend, sweets. Everyone in the worlds jealous of this sweet pussy. All for me.” He mumbled, massaging your thighs as you looked down at him in awe.

“Love you rennie,” You pulled him into a kiss, making your tongues roll against each other. After a few moments he pulled away, the both of your lightly breathing in extra air that was needed.

“Love you more, now you gon let me eat my pussy, princess?” He eyed your bare pussy, it was practically sobbing for him to touch it.

“Yes, baby please.” you begged.

“What do ya want me to do, hm?” He questioned, now teasing your opening with his finger.

“Please, eat me out rennie. Need it s’badd.” You whined, squeezing his upper bicep. Eren nodded your way and kissed your cheek, then he went in between your thighs. Placing a soft kiss before sucking on your clit. The most sensitive spot of course.

"Look at you," Eren smirked, pulling away from your heat and ghosting his fingertips over your pussy's lips with the other. "You're soaked, mama," He muttered.

Two fingers were inserted into Eren's mouth, covering them in saliva, and then pulled back down to slide between your folds. He abruptly put two digits inside, crooked them up, and sent a shockwave through your entire body.

He tittered, pulling out his fingers only to re-insert them into his mouth while swirling his tongue to taste your flavor. He continued to look at you while muttering softly between his fingers. His sneer was lewd as he slid them out.

"Eren—" You were cut off when Eren began swirling his tongue against your clit, holding your body firmly in place as you moved on the counter from the pleasure that has been given to you.

“Hm? what’s that, can’t hear you sweetheart.” Eren mumbled from between your thighs. You knew he wanted others to hear, it was another way of showing you off. If you could say it like that.

“S-Someone’s gonna hear, rennie, can’t..” You cried, making sure you weren’t too loud when you had a hand over your mouth.

“don’t give a fuck, if anyone hears. Y’want me to leave you on this counter unsatisfied?” Eren questioned.

You shook your head, tears brimming into your eyes and you continued to blabber out. The two feelings of insane pleasure, and anxiety of getting caught bubbles inside your chest.

“Fuck— no, Eren ‘m sorry..” You apologized, ruffling your hands into Erens hair. Gripping it for dear life as his tongue reached a sensitive spot in your gummy velvety walls.

You let out a loud wail, you were sure a few people could’ve heard. Your eyes widened as you covered your mouth as soon as possible, a few tears slipping out of your doe eyes.

“ohh, this the spot mama?” He continued to thrust his fingers inside of you, and suck you dry with his tongue. You nodded your head vigorously, desperate.

“yes! oh—fuck Rennie please!” You cried out, absolutely not caring anymore about others overhearing you both.

Erens jaw locks, and tightens. His tongue continues to lap over your folds as his fingers continue to abuse that one squishy area inside of you that was leaving you to sob. The lewd noises, from when Eren ate you out was a noise you’d never forget. Eren was the best at eating you out, you knew that. And now probably everyone in the library knew aswell.

When you let go of the bubble that was begging to be let out, and you orgasm, a moaned cry is released from your lips ,and you're trying so hard not to scream out any more as you're releasing your juices on Eren tongue. Your eyes widened as Eren continued to slurp your juices.

He kissed up at your body, stopping at your lips as he swirled his tongue around yours in a lewd manner. Occasionally you would moan into his mouth, as you were lolling your tongue into his.

It was almost like you were sucked off until you were dumb, because as of right now you almost forgot about how Eren ate you out as if his life depended on it.

He pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs out, obviously rock hard. To your surprise it was harder than usual. He strokes his cock into his hands, eyeing you the whole time as your cunt gets wetter and wetter just from looking at his cock.

“I’m gonna have fun breaking this pussy, baby. Y’ready?” He aligned himself towards your body, rubbing his tip against your sopping wet entrance. The lewd noises of your cunt squelching can be heard from all around the room.

You nodded your head and grinned, kissing his cheek and brought him in closer. Signaling him to push his cock inside you.

Once he's fully inside he places his hand above your stomach to feel himself inside you. He feels his cock from inside of, a burning feeling of pride hitting his chest as he gropes one of your breasts from under your shirt.

You were suffocating his cock inside of you from your squeezing, it made him close his eyes for a slight second to adjust to your feeling.

“Ready, sweet girl?”

You nodded your head, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. That’s when he began rolling his hips against yours, you felt so full. This feeling, was amazing.

The way his cock moved inside of you, made loud wet sounds from all around the area. As his cock sinks into your swollen core, you begin sobbing. But the pleasure wasn’t unbearable, it was just overwhelming. Every time you fucked it felt like your first time.

“Let me hear you, my precious girl.” His voice fumbled from his chest, the more he pounded into you the more you itched closer to your orgasm.

“Eren.. you’re so deepp. W-Want it inside, please?!” You begged, and whined, through the tears that continued to flow down your face. Erens hands came up to your cheeks and wiped them off, then he want back to holding your hips still just so he could rut inside you again.

“y’want my cum? y’want me to fill that sweet pussy of yours mama?” He hums, his dick abusing that one spot in your pussy that continued to make you cry out.

“yes— yes! want you inside me forever. fuck.. your dicks so good!” you cried, kissing the palm that was cradling your cheek.

As his cock twitched inside of you, you knew he was close to cumming inside of you. He continued to bully your insides, which meant his tip hitting your cervix continuously.

As you orgasmed, a white ring appeared around Erens cock. But that didn’t stop him from thrusting into your creamy pussy in a inhuman pace. Once his thrusts got sloppy, spurts of cum filled your insides.

You placed both of your hands on Eren’s face, bringing him into a kiss as he continued to fill you up. You moaned in his mouth, your tongues tied together as you both sloppy kissed.

Eren continued to thrust inside of you, making sure all of his cum stays inside of you. When he pulls out, he makes sure to collect all the cum that was threatening to drop out back inside you.

“Don’t forgot to take a pill, when we go back to your dorm. Unless you want my baby.” Eren smirked and kissed your forehead.

“You’re too good for me mama.” He continued, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you closer to him. His cock softening inside of you.

“I love you eren, love you s’much. Want your babies one day.” You slurred against his chest.

Eren chuckled. “You’ll get my babies one day, after we graduate. How does that sound?”

“exciting, can’t wait!” You exclaimed and hugged him tighter. Bringing your head up to look at his green orbs that were already looking at you.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your forehead.

Before you both could say anything else, Erens phone buzzed on the counter. You looked at it confused and grabbed the phone, giving it to your boyfriend who looked stunned reading the message. Then he brought it to you just so you could read it.

Jean

bruh, if you n y/n in the library i can hear you guys fucking. STFU WE TRYNA STUDY

Read 4:37 pm

Eren

nahh cuz ion rmbr asking😂😂

Read 4:38 pm

Authors note: Happy 1 week of me postin on this app LMFAOO don’t mind any errors pls, i’ll fix it up when i get home from starbucks😓

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