#custom law uniform

[eevees-hobbies]

My Boyfriend Works at a Butler Cafe - NSFW

Author’s Note: This is in response to the maid cafe requests I’ve gotten. While I don’t think I can add to the body of work that other content creators have already contributed to the fandom, I am dropping this at your feet. It may or may not be inspired by my trip to the Butler Cafe at Anime Expo, hehe.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Multiple Characters (Mostly separate). Contains Fluff and Smut (Smut indicated by “after hours” text). P in V. Use of pet names like pretty girl, Daddy, possessiveness in Sakura’s, sex in public, cunnilingus, sharing, mention of a handjob, reserve cowgirl. Tis smut!

Synopsis: Picture a scenario in which Umemiya is concerned about the welfare and sustainability of some of the shops in Makochi, primarily because many of the shops are owned and kept up by some of the more elderly inhabitants. Some stores are dilapidated and at risk of shuttering their doors, which Umemiya sees as a significant loss to the community. After brainstorming potential ways to earn some donations, he has a brilliant idea! It’s a concept that has almost every Bofurin alumni grinding their teeth and shaking their heads in protest. Welcome to the Butler Cafe!

Word Count: 3.2K

Cottage dividers by Saradika. Story and character banners by me.

“I’m so happy to see you, baby!”

If he weren’t volunteering his time to work in the cafe, he would be terminated immediately. As soon as he sees you walk through the door, he shouts your name from across the dining room and beelines straight to you, arms open and with a broad smile on his face. 

The customers he was just serving? Ignored.

He’ll make sure to sit you in his section and pull up a chair to chat with you, which is a significant annoyance to management as Umemiya is a big draw to the cafe. His admirers line up at least an hour before the restaurant opens to see the cutie with the toned biceps serving them strawberry crepes.

Regardless, I hope you’re comfortable with your lover staring into the depths of your eyes—and soul—as you recount your day. 

He’s so incomprehensibly smitten with you that the only thing that he’ll allow to interrupt your verbal reverie is him spoon-feeding you a piece of cake. 

“I’m so glad you came to visit me today! Wait, what do you mean you’re genuinely here to eat lunch?”

Grade: C+

After Hours

“Let me have some of you before my shift, sweetheart. I need you.”

“D-don’t worry about those…let them fall.” Paperwork, pens, and even a stapler aren’t safe from the laws of gravity as Umemiya picks you up and pushes you onto the desk in the back office. He only has so much time before opening the Butler Cafe doors, and he needs to fill your womb to ensure himself a good shift.

Could you imagine a sex-famished Umemiya? It’s a terrifying thought!

You kiss each other hungrily, tongues meeting outside your mouths before you can press your lips together. Your hands are already fussing with his uniform, particularly where his toned chest strains the buttons of his ironed coat.

“If I’m not inside you right now, baby girl-” His sentence is cut off as his mouth latches to the sensitive skin on your throat, suckling and nipping until the spot begins to sting. But if it hurts, you aren’t showing it as your eyes roll back into your skull. 

He’s pressing his body into yours as though he’s attempting to collapse into you. His hands desperately tug at the fabric that covers up his favorite parts of you–your breasts, your stomach, and most importantly, the sweet treat you have between slick-stained thighs.

“Ume, this has to be a quickie!” 

You can feel him grumble against your skin, lips trained into a pout as he grapples with your words, but he knows you’re right. He shifts the seat of your panties to the side and sinks into you, inch by agonizing thick inch. 

And you thought you were ready. You thought the way your cunt was drooling for him just by seeing him in his uniform would mean you were fully prepared to take his girth, but the sheer thickness still has you gasping and gripping his shoulders.

“Shhh, you can take it, pretty girl. You always take me so well. I got ya’”

As he’s pushing into you, his words slur, drunk off your pussy, head swimming with love, lust, and adoration for his sweet girl. There’s no time for preparation; his shift starts soon, and weren’t you just rushing him, anyway?

But for all the stretching you must endure from taking him, Umemiya is still nothing but gentle.

“God, you’re perfect.” His fingers stroke your cheek, and you melt into the familiarity of his soothing touch. “Keep your eyes open for me ok, love? You close them, and we start over.”

Once you collect yourself, walls finally fitting snugly around him like a glove, you bat your eyelashes innocently, brushing your lips against his thumb before sliding it into your mouth. You don’t break eye contact with him as you flirt your tongue against the underside of his thumb, pretending as though you’re sucking on something much bigger and thicker—that of which is already inside of you.

For a brief instant, you see something flash in Umemiya’s eyes, something that you feel sink into your spine and crawl its way up each individual vertebrae with sharpened claws, something that would threaten your health and ability to walk if you were home instead of at the butler cafe. But he begrudgingly sets his desire to defile you to the side and removes his thumb from your mouth, hand moving down and using that same digit to rub at your clit.

“I love it when you help Daddy out like this. Suuuuuuch a good girl.”

The way the desk bangs against the wall and drags across the linoleum floor as he drives his thick cock into your sopping-wet mess makes you consider that you two might be found out before your quickie can conclude. 

Grade: A+

“Stop staring at me like that, and hurry up and order!”

“Ugh!”

Death has never been more welcome as soon as Sakura dons the butler uniform. Even worse is when he peers into the dining room and sees you. 

Why would you do this to him? Why would you show up here? Don’t you have any pity for him, or is this all some sick, twisted fantasy for you? 

He’s spiraling!

Staff must physically grab him and force him onto the cafe floor. 

He’ll approach you, grumbling, and every bit of him the reddest he’s ever been—and is that steam pouring from his ears?

As he mumbles out the delicacy of the day, you have to lean in just to hear what he’s saying.

“S-stop pretending you can’t hear me!”

But best believe that when he sees another butler giving you too much attention for his liking, he’s stepping in and taking care of all his girl's orders.

“Hey, she’s mine.”

“Y-you mean the table, right?”

“She’s mine.”

Oof, he said what he said!

And if Umemiya is popular with the younger crowd, Sakura, to his disdain, is popular with the older ladies. They don’t think he’s particularly cute or lovely to look at; they just enjoy a visit from this loud-mouthed kid telling them to hurry up and order.

They think he’s a hoot and taking method-acting to the extreme.

Aren’t the tsundere types so cute? 

He’s honestly a really bad butler. His inability to be friendly to the customers—except you—and attempts to always switch his shift with someone else does not go unnoticed by management.

Grade: F -

After Hours 

“I kinda like fucking you at work.”

As you gazed down at your plate, an unfinished parfait staring back at you, a simple sentence was all you needed to gulp the rest of the dessert down and follow your butler outside.

“Gonna be good for me and finish that so I can finish you, yeah?”

Um, fuck yeah!

“S-sakura, don’t you have to clock back in?” You mumble into his ear; you know you sound like an absolute mess, your breathing rapid and uneven, with small moans erupting from your throat.

“Fuck this job.” He has your hands pinned above your head; your legs are wrapped around his waist as he fucks you against the alley wall behind the cafe. “I’m exactly where I should be.”

His thrusts forward are hard and urgent, but the retraction of his dick is slow, drawing out the feeling of your satin walls grazing every inch of him. Your slick is staining his bicolored pubic hair as he grinds into you. His fingers dig into your wrists, seemingly in rhythm with each snap of his hips. 

“G-god, Sakura! Maybe I should make you dress up like a butler more often?” 

“P-pervert, you’d like that, huh? You want me to dress up as your fantasy and fuck you in costume?”

He nestles his face into your neck. You sound so good for him, and how could he resist the urge to take you outside and fuck you right here and now with how pretty you look?

You’re intoxicating, you’re perfect, you’re about to make him fucking cum, fuck! He considers pulling out, letting you finish him off with your hand or that cute mouth of yours, but you grip your legs around him in a vice grip.

“H-haru, stay inside, please?”

Oh, god, how could he say no to that? To you? He smashes his lips against yours, moaning loudly in your mouth as his cock twitches, spurts then fountains of his love and devotion for you filling you up to the brim.

His shift at the butler cafe is the last thing on his mind as he wraps his arms around your waist, peppering kisses against your lips and cheeks.

Grade: A+++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hey, you came just to see me, sweet girl? Aw, I’m so lucky.”

Although he technically didn’t have to attend this fundraiser, given his relationship with Bofurin and Makochi, he thought it was a good idea to show up ready to work.

Togame quickly becomes a shift manager. He’s reliable, a natural leader, and every client likes talking to him and even though he doesn’t walk with a sense of urgency, they don’t mind!

When Togame sees you enter the cafe, he’ll shoot you a lazy grin—the kind that makes your heart skip a beat and forces you to long for him even when he’s right there in front of you.

During his lunch breaks, he’ll take you out on the private patio he reserved just for you two and have the butler on duty bring out all the cafe items he knows you’ll like. 

As you speak and enjoy your time together, he’ll grab your hand in his, rough fingers drawing smooth circles around your knuckles, deep-green eyes trained on yours, and occasionally flickering down to look at your lips.

Of course, you want to kiss him, but he’s at work!

Knowing precisely how you are, Togame makes the first move, leaning over and capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft, unabashedly intimate, and that of which touches the furthest and most difficult-to-reach edges of your very soul. He’s breathing life into you, and before you know it, he’s pulling away, smirking, daring you to be the aggressor, and daring you to follow him. And you are, and you do.

Grade: A

After Hours 

“Gonna make you cum before my shift, beautiful. How does that sound? Look at me when I ask you a question.”

Your trembling hand shoots out to grasp the ledge of a nearby shelf in the cafe’s backroom. Togame has your legs draped over his muscular and broad shoulders with your back against the wall in the back office.

Togame loves using your thighs as earmuffs. The harder you squeeze, the more he can tell how good of a job he’s doing. When you squeeze and tremble because he’s sucking on your labia, taking each one into his mouth, sucking, biting, he knows that he’s doing exactly what he needs to get you to absolute euphoria.

“Jo,” you hiss through parted, glossed lips, “They’ll be able to hear us!”

“No, they’ll be able to hear you.”

And he’s right. He snuck you into the back prior to his shift so that he could devour you as though you didn’t pack him a bento box. 

But he’s doing such a good job, licking at your clit until you feel a dull throbbing sensation, making out with your pretty pussy until thick cream coats his lips, and leaving a reflective sheen on his cheeks. 

Unfortunately, the diners aren’t too far away, and you don’t want them to hear every sound Togame is pulling out of you.

And as though he’s intentionally trying to make you louder, he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, no longer teasing the nub but making deliberate infinity shapes that make her twitch.

“I’ll stop when you cum in my mouth, baby.”

He wants you to cum? Might as well take him up on the offer. 

You grab loose fistfuls of his hair and start grinding on his face, allowing his nose to rub against your clit as he offers your pretty hole free use of his tongue.

“That’s my girl. You’re such a good listener.”

“Jo, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Grade: A+

“I’m at your beck and call. Whatever you need is yours.”

To no surprise to anyone, Suo is poised and proper enough to make the butler gig look easy. He knows how to carry the trays without spilling a single crumb of food, he knows where to put the silverware when placing them on the table, and he’s certainly never stressed out during a midday rush.

However, his faults lie with you.

When Suo sees you enter the cafe, he becomes apathetic to the other patrons. He still serves them, yes, but his thoughts are obviously elsewhere. His eyes hardly leave you, watching as you bring a fork up to your mouth and it pushes past your plump lips. 

Your tongue darting out to lick the whipped cream from the corner of your mouth has his eyes widening ever so slightly, and the tea kettle he’s pouring tea from shaking just a bit. 

And when he’s able to serve you? He’s never been happier. Sure, you may not have asked for that extra piece of pie, but you’re absolutely going to get it. Can’t possibly drink any more tea? Nonsense. He’s topping you off again.

Anything for you.

Always.

And forever.

Grade: B

After Hours

"Pretty girl needs to cum at least one more time for us. I need you to cum in my friend's mouth before I touch you."

Your pleasure is Suo’s pleasure, so be a good girl and spread your legs for his friends, mkay? Suo’s tongue slides into your mouth as his fingers brush against the strands of your hair that have managed to fall into your face. 

He can’t help but admire you, your beauty, and your fucked out expression as your mouth opens and closes, waves and waves of pleasure rocking you to your core. 

His beautiful girl.

The cafe's shades are drawn closed, and the interior of the restaurant is only illuminated by dim amber lamp lights placed sporadically throughout the medium-sized room. 

Suo cups your chin, his mouth only leaving yours as he tilts your face forward, “Tell Sakura how much you like when he sucks on your clit.”

Sakura grunts from between your thighs. He’s on all fours, face so flush against your cunt that there’s surely no room for him to breathe. But if that’s the case, he isn’t indicating that oxygen is a necessity as he’s dragging his tongue, flattened and broad, against your swollen clit in long licks. 

“That feels really good, Sakura. You’re doing such a great job.” You pause, but Suo’s quick, heated glance in your direction wills you to continue. “You’re doing a great job, and I like when you suck on my clit”

“Good girl. It’s important to thank your butlers. Now be sure to thank Umemiya, too.”

You turn your head to the side, gazing up at Umemiya, who is pulling up his undershirt in clenched fists, exposing his toned stomach and chest, and his pants hanging loosely around his thighs. His pectorals have been a rosy pink all night, the persistent blush only spreading as he lays witness to you and what you’re capable of.

Your hand is wrapped around his cock, fingertips unable to touch each other from the sheer circumference of him, but dammit you’re trying. “Thank you, Umemiya, for letting me jerk you off.”

Suo lets out a quiet hiss, pleased with your obedience. He grips you by the cheeks and leans down, his lips so close to yours, his eye peering into your soul.

“Who do you think should go first? Which butler would you like to request, love?”

You’d smirk if his hand wasn’t forcing your lips into a pout, but your eyebrow twitches, and you get that familiar glint in your eye that Suo loves so much.

“I don’t think anyone has to take turns. Everyone pick a hole.” 

Grade: A+

“P-please tell me how I can help you?”

When you see Nirei in his butler outfit, you swoon. How could someone so innocent and cute look like that? And while he blushes and stutters when taking your order, he’s probably the most impressive butler in the cafe.

He knows the menu like the back of his hand, is always on time, and is willing to stay late if need be.

Unlike the other participants on this list, your presence isn’t enough to shake Nirei, and admittedly, that might hurt a bit, right? In actuality, Nirei does so well because of you.

He knows you’re watching, so he’s careful with every movement and every word he says. He so desperately wants to impress you. So you might not always see it, but he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, hoping you saw him interact with a client with perfect protocol. 

As you have lunch with your friends and your eyes meet, he’ll shoot you a little wave as he turns his attention back to a customer. Your friends will giggle because how did YOU trap someone so cute, sweet, and innocent?

And you’ll take offense to that because 1) you aren’t a predator who hunts cute little animals–-Bambi is most certainly safe when you’re around and 2) Nirei is anything but innocent.  

Grade: A+

After Hours:

"O-oh god! You’re amazing, so beautiful, please don’t stop! I-I’m gonna..!"

With shaky hands, Nirei hangs onto the plush of your ass–and on for dear life–as you ride him in reverse cowgirl position on the floor of the Butler Cafe. 

“O-oh, my god…” He musters the strength to bring his head up to look at you expertly bouncing on his dick, swallowing him whole like you were made for this.

He doesn’t think he’s going to make it.

“Y/N! P-please slow down!”

You let out a breathless giggle, your nails digging into his thighs for leverage as you sit up straight and roll your hips. “You did so well serving me today, Nirei! I’m just rewarding my butler.”

God and he’d serve you for a lifetime if it meant experiencing this.

“D-do you know what I’m doing right now, baby?”

He lets out a grunt, the only sound he can manage, as the muscles in his calves tighten to the point of almost cramping.

Fuck, why are you so good at this?

You swivel your hips to the left, right, up and down, dragging the head of his cock against your g-spot. “I’m spelling your name.”

S-spelling his-

Oh, fuck.

Nirei bites his lip, eyes rolling into the back of his head as something so inevitable, so ridiculously powerful, hits him like a freight train. A cross between a whimper-whine escapes from parted lips, and it catches you off guard because, if anything, his moan is a clear indication of how much he desires you and how much he’s always wanted you. 

You consider stopping, the rolling of your hips slowing, but the feeling of immense pressure makes you moan. The licking of your lips replaces the cocky grin on your face as you throw your head back.

Because, god, there’s just so much of it! 

You look between your legs as his cum drips from your cunt and onto the cafe floor. His balls still clenching and unclenching as he continues to pour into you. 

“Nirei, there’s so much!”

“Mmmm, h-happy to give you some more?”

Grade: A+

Special thanks to @suosgirl and @hayatoseyepatch for your ideas/contributions. 

[mattslolita]

bambi!reader and dealer!chris having matching halloween costumes

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

"oh, now that's so original!" matt laughs, shaking his head as both and chris finally arrive at the party, "fitting."

you smile cheekily, planting a hand on your hip as the other holds up the metal handcuff that's on chris's wrist — a bunch of whistles erupt from the crowd, and you bow slightly, proud of the costumes you picked out for you and chris. you were in a police officer uniform, your top exposing your perky breasts just barely. a short, denim skirt accompanied the cap on your head, giving it the hot police officer look. your signature white, crochet socks were on your feet as well as your doc martens, a white bow in your braids.

chris was in a orange jumpsuit, his brown locs strewn against his forehead, still wet from his shower just before they arrived. he wore his black timberlands, silver chain around his neck to match with the silver handcuffs you had gotten for him.

"you really expect me to be ya prisoner the entire night?" chris whispers to you, using his other hand to ruffle through his hair as he surveys the crowd, "got potential customers all in here, y'know."

"relax, i'll help you with them!" you tell him, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw, a giggle leaving your lips, "now stop speaking! anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law!"

"m'gonna use these cuffs against you tonight if ya keep shakin' your ass in this skirt," chris whispers to you, nibbling on your ear slightly as he lands a smack to your ass, causing you to squeal.

"it's supposed to be reversed!" you tell him matter-of-factly.

"then let's go two rounds ma, both of us take turns."

[zephyrspace]

queen of thine heart

riddle rosehearts / gn!reader

synopsis : they say the queen of hearts always had her loving husband rule alongside her. unfortunately for heartslabyul, their queen's king attends a different academy. but you know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

or ; in hearing your lover's recent overblot, you disregard the rules and infiltrate nrc to make sure your queen is alright, much to the surprise of the cards.

content : established relationship, implied childhood friends, rsa!reader, fluff, sprinkle of angst, crack, no use of yn, reader is not the prefect, reader is referred to as 'king' in a gender neutral way (like how riddle as queen), fic is more focused on the dynamic of their relationship rather than of the relationship itself (but perhaps another fic is in order...), riddle's pov kinda?, just a very short oneshot.

word count : 1.5k

The door opens but nobody that's already in the room thinks too much of it, until someone unfamiliar speaks.

"Good evening, Card Soldiers."

The mild bickering ceased to exist entirely. The door clicks shut.

The first years couldn't tell if it was an illusion or not, but they swear they saw the Housewarden of Heartslabyul tense at the sound of the person's voice and averted his gaze. Shoes tap against the floor tiles until they stop at the foot of Riddle's designated recovery bed.

The newcomer wore the eyesore that was the Royal Sword Academy uniform, but the things that caught the attention of specifically the Prefect would be the scarily regal presence that the person exudes, and the badge pinned against the left lapel of the stranger's blazer, an exact replica of the crown Riddle adorns on his school tie.

They brandish a polite smile, "you are dismissed."

It was clear to everyone that this person will not accept any other answer than compliance - "RSA? Who're you to tell us what to do? And what are you even doing here?" - well, except for one.

Ace raises a brow, lacking any form of decorum or respect, as per usual. The temperature of the room seemingly dropped, and yet, the stranger was still smiling.

Before Ace gets an answer, he feels a sharp jab at his side and a hand resting between his shoulder blades. Trey is quickly ushering all of them out of the infirmary. The heart soldier watches the academy student and the Vice exchange a look and a nod.

The door clicks shut once again.

With everyone now gone, you walk over to Riddle's left of the bed. Right hand against your heart, you bow your head, a custom.

"I greet the sovereign of Heartslabyul, the everlasting law, the Queen of my own heart," you cannot hide the smile in your voice and Riddle hates it in an affectionate sort of way.

"Must you always greet me incorrectly?"

"I am but a mere servant to your rule," you give him a cheeky grin, and with a touch as light as a feather, you take his right hand to press a quick kiss to the knuckles. Riddle sports a pout as he retracts his arm, but you never take him seriously when he's beet red, always a sucker to your flowery words.

Despite this, he has not once looked you in the eyes since you arrived.

Silence and tranquillity floods the atmosphere but anybody can feel the underlying tension beneath the layers. You shatter the quiet.

"I came as soon as I could." You sit down on the edge of the bed and he shuffles to the opposite side so that you do not fall off.

"I know." Riddle's sight is focused on the bed sheets where his hands rested. He watches your hands clasp over his, your touch is warm and just slightly sweaty, but he would never care for something so little.

Besides, he can tell by the sound of your breathing that you're still recovering from the journey. Upperclassmen say that it takes almost two or three hours to walk from one end of Sage's Island to the other, and this is without factoring the mountain you'd have to climb to get to NRC.

"I really thought I lost you when I was notified by one of the cards." Riddle can feel your stare and the sorrow in your words. You probably dropped everything to get here.

"I know." He takes a quick glance at the clock on the wall. How did you even manage to get to the college in just a little over an hour since he was admitted into the infirmary?

"You need to make me lots of crosswords to make up for it." The Housewarden clenches his jaw and thinks you are too forgiving compared to how much inconvenience and worry he's caused you.

Why are you not reprimanding his recklessness? Why would you risk a dorm-arrest to visit him with no prior permission? He reckons that your sentence would last at least a week if the professors find out of your absence, two weeks if you used a broom without authorisation. After this, would you think of him as a nuisance or embarrassment and leave him-

Sensing all of his inner turmoil, you reach out to carefully fix his dishevelled hair back into place and cup his cheek, coaxing his head in your direction so that he finally, finally looks at you.

Riddle's eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but the steadying pulse under the palm of your hand is soothing, your gaze is soft and full of something that is unconditional. Riddle knows that he can stay looking at you until forever falls apart.

Thumbing the flesh gently, you are watchful not to touch any gauze or smudge remnants of ointment. "Crosswords aside, I implore that you tell me, my Queen: What ails you so? Have I done something to be undeserving of your gaze?" Though, that last part was supposed to sound more like a joke.

"No!" He belts out before he could process your teasing lilt. "I mean- I- That's not- Ugh!"

Riddle gives up at the sight of your smug face and relaxes into your hold for just a few more moments, not caring for his burning cheeks or the delicacy that his lover offers him, only wanting to feel them wholly and fully.

He expels out a shaky breath, sits up straight, and lets everything go. Riddle tells you everything. The collars, the unbirthday, the tart, the duel. Riddle expresses his revelation about his mother and her rules. He confesses that you were right this entire time, and that he hopes you can forgive him for the times he denied it and admonished you.

Riddle's story ends and your brows furrow with guilt, "I knew I should have transferred to Night Raven. Maybe it would have prevented-"

He is quick to lace your fingers together with his own and silences you right away. "Perish the thought. You are not to blame. Not you. Never you."

Deciding to reward his efforts of attempting to distract you from your own thoughts, you sigh and lean in so that your foreheads touch, and Riddle does not oppose the connection. Closing your eyes, you breathe out lightly, quietly, as if only the two of you existed.

"You have tormented yourself in such a manner for far too long, my loveliest rose."

At that moment, Riddle swears up and down to The Seven that he has never been so in love. He looks down at your joined hands and smiles for the first time that day.

"I promise not to do it again, my Liege."

[ Extra ]

"What the hell was that for!?" Ace rubs his side tenderly after Cater elbowed him earlier. He earns disapproving glances from his seniors and unsurprising stares from Deuce, Prefect and Grim.

"Be more careful, Ace-y. They're the Housewarden slash Ruler of their own dorm back in RSA, but is also the Honorary King of Heartslabyul because they're Riddle's partner," Cater pulls up pictures of you from the academy's official magicam and shows the first years. "So that means they're in the same position of power as him in 'labyul, so you need'ta treat them like it."

Ace snatches the phone from his grasp and scrolls through the content, in denial. The other first years crowd around him. "Partners? With that Tyrant?? There is no way Housewarden was able to pull before me."

They all stare at the photos of you doing a plethora of activities, presumably around the rival school. Gardening, directing students, baking, tea parties, generally doing nice things. Yuck.

Ace tries to find your personal magicam but Cater yanks his phone back, exasperated, "I think they've been together for almost two years now, so it's not like it's new news."

"Myah, I don't know about you guys, but this 'King' of yours looks like a weak-ass, lovesick simp. Simp in capital letters, bold font and red text," Grim had lifted himself up and peaked through the window in the door to the infirmary, watching the royalties speak softly to each other.

The two third years give each other a look and both can vividly imagine the sound of your laughter and you saying that you wholeheartedly agree with Grim.

"I still don't get why you just followed their orders without question. I should show them the mighty power of The Great Grim, and then we'll see who's the real king! Nyahaha- Yowch!" Deuce had smacked the monster in the head.

Trey leans against the wall beside the closed entrance, crosses his arms and chuckles at the statement. He looks over his shoulder and also observes the duo inside.

"I've known them since we were kids, and trust me, Grim, they aren't someone you can mess with and get away with it unscathed."

He chooses not to mention how Grim fails to see the pure concentration of magic emanating from your figure.

[mindofharry]

Anything

pyscho!harry is my absolute fav. obviously he comes with warnings so if this triggers you please do not read. kidnapping and m!rder mentioned. please send in your thoughts!

Harry liked to watch her. 

At first, it was for simple pleasure. He enjoyed going to see his favourite girl after a gruelling day of work. It did not consume him. Not until now. Not until he saw Y/N, his perfect, beautiful, Y/N with another man. Of course, Harry had to do something about this. 

And that is why a man is on his basement floor, choking on his own blood.  

“Do you get hard thinking about her?” Harry asked manically, kicking the man who lay on the floor. He didn’t wait for a response, moving towards a little desk in the corner of the room. Harry smiled wiggling his fingers at his toys. A gun would be too quick, too messy. A knife is exactly right. He picked up the butcher knife, humming to himself softly. The poor guy was still on the floor in a mixture of blood and vomit. This sight is the only thing that could get him hard, other than Y/N.  

“This is going to be incredibly fun. Not for you, but definitely for me,” 

Y/N had been stood up. For the fourth time. She wonders if there was something wrong with her. Four times cannot be a coincidence like her friends keep telling her. The men seemed desperate for even a second of her attention and then when given it – radio silence. She just didn't understand. She would get excited, finally having a guy to tell her mother about. And then after three days, that dream guy disappears.  

Lana, Y/N’s roommate, and best friend of three years sits in front of her, “You just haven’t found the one that's right for you. “Everything happens for a reason,” she said trying her best to comfort her best friend.  

Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“I’ve got work. I’ll see you later,” she said, kissing her friend on the cheek and walking away. Y/N had worked at the diner on main street since she was a teenager. Thats where she met most of her admirers. Mostly the elderly locals and the odd few college students cramming for their next exam. Y/N used to be like those students too. Until she dropped out and thought working full time at the diner was better than a law degree.  

Y/N quickly pulled her leggings down, along with her pink panties. She walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out her work uniform, which was a white dress, apron, and knee-high sock. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, not giving much thought to it or the make-up that adorned her dresser. Quickly, she put her comfortable sneakers on, grabbed her phone and jacket and made a beeline for the apartment door. 

“Working the night shift, so don’t wait up,” Y/N yelled, she heard a quick mumble from Lana and then grabbed the keys on the table beside the door. She always forgot them. The last time she did a night shift, she wobbled home and had to sleep in the hallway as Lana was fast asleep and couldn't hear the calls or bangs from her roommate. 

Harry’s day started like it usually did. 

He got up. Showered. Got changed and had food. Brushed his teeth and checked on his cats. 

And then he butchered someone. Cut them up piece by piece and then throw them in the river. It was a normal morning for him. 

He felt hard at the thought. 

His alarm on his watch beeped and he sighed happily, it was time to see his girl. Although Y/N didn’t know him and had never actually spoken to him, he knew she loved him the way he loved her. There was no other choice and Y/N is a good girl. She would grow to love him one way or another. Harry looked at himself in the mirror, straightening his tie. Today is the day he would introduce himself, claim her if you will. Every time he saw her, he wanted to ravish her and today would be that day.  

While Y/N was serving customers, harry was rechecking the rope in the car. When Y/N started to clean the counters, Harry tripled checked the security cameras. Finally, when Y/N was closing the diner, early in the morning, Harry was behind her.  

Instead of flowers behind his back, he held a cloth full of dangerous chemicals. 

Y/N spotted him, startled dropping the keys. 

“I am so sorry, we just closed,” she apologised bending down to pick up her keys at the same time as this mysterious man. She gazed up at him, being met with green eyes, pale skin, and hot breath. She thought he was beautiful. Tortured, but beautiful. 

“It’s ok,” Harry murmured, his ring covered fingers grazed her own sending a shock through her system. Y/N swallowed heavily, not sure if her stomach was producing anxiety or arousal.  

“I feel like I know you,” Y/N hummed, finally picking up the keys and straightening herself up, the man did the same. 

“Maybe we’ve met in another life,” He smiled, for some reason, Y/N blushed. That would have never worked with any other man. To be honest, she would have made a run for it the minute she saw him if he was not this man.  

She put it down to the little male validation she got. 

“Maybe,” Y/N replied after a few beats of tensioned silence.  

Harry’s heart was beating wildly, not because of the possibility of getting caught but because of this woman. She smiled at him. Blushed at his words. 

Oh, he was going to keep her, there was no doubt about it. 

“Anyways, I have to get going, I’ll see you around?” Y/N asked, hope invading her voice.  

“You’ll be seeing me,” Harry said, grabbing her arms, holding her tight as she squirmed. He placed the cloth to her lips and within seconds her body lay still. 

“Mine,” 

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Which one do you want?

Just off a quiet highway somewhere in the Midwest, you might see James advertising my new product. He used to own this car dealership with his wife, but she's long gone. James hasn't thought about her since I pulled out my pendulum and put him in a trance. He just spends his days standing on the side of the road holding up that sign like I told him to.

You can see I marked him at 40 bucks, which is well over what he's worth, but I like to keep him around to advertise and flag down potential customers. His abs are visible even in the rain, and the neon underwear I put him in is sure to catch every driver's eye.

If you pull into my dealership, I'd be happy to show you my selection you can choose from...

Tyler, here, used to be my brother-in-law, but my sister dumped him real fast after she found the guy was a cheater. Since, he wasn't family anymore, I had no reason not to hypnotize every thought out of his head.

She has no idea I did this to her ex, but it won't hurt to have Tyler out of the picture for good. I like to give him a little punch in the gut every time I pass. It's my form of ongoing payback. He only ever reacts with a stifled groan since his mind is mush, but it's still cathartic to see him in pain.

Tyler will probably go fast since he's so traditionally handsome, but the vengeful part of me hopes a more sadistic client will take him off my hands.

Next is Caesar. This guy used to work at the auto garage next door, but when I saw him I knew I had to have him. He put on a real tough guy act when I introduced myself, but a pudgy working man like him should act accordingly in my opinion.

After introducing his gaze to my pendulum, he practically fell into my arms. I had my fun warping Ceasar's personality to be more like that of a submissive dog, but even that got a bit old. Sure, I made him love and cuddle me like the perfect partner, but he tracked mud everywhere and he always seemed to stink.

I hope whoever pays for him doesn't mind always telling the oaf to hose himself down every once in awhile. I suppose they could just use Ceasar for the cheap manual labor and just forget about his hygiene entirely.

This is Mike. He's a real piece of trash. I caught him trying to steal one of my cars in the middle of the night. He sure was shocked when my army of hypnotized hunks ran out and apprehended him, per my command.

He might look mean, but trust me, Mike's been thoroughly hypnotized and broken in just like every other dude on this lot. He wouldn't be standing there holding that 'For Sale' sign all day if he weren't!

Now, I know that his lack of hair might be a turn off for a lot of folks, so I'm willing to go down on the price. 20 dollars is already pretty low, but I want to make sure you all can afford your own hypnotized hunk. It's not like it's too difficult for me to go out and find a couple more idiots to fill their place. Hell, if you really need it, I might sell you a guy for a dollar!

This boy in blue is Lt. O'Riley. I don't know what his full name is. I'm just going off what it says on his badge. Now, I know that hypnotizing an officer of the law is risky, but O'Riley was being a real pain in my neck, always poking his nose in my business.

I hypnotized his partner too.

I think that guy's name was Brooks or something, but he was real ugly. I would've never been able to sell his fat ass, so I had him hand over his police uniform and turned him into my handyman, who's meant to be neither seen nor heard. He wears an old pair of dirty coveralls now and takes care of all the maintenance work. He's probably off scrubbing my housing from top to bottom right now since it's the middle of the day.

You could do that to officer O'Riley too, if you want, or maybe you keep that precious uniform on him. It's up to you.

This last guy is Don, and I know what you're going to say! I'm a little light on product at the moment, but don't worry.

I'm planning on driving into town real soon and restocking. Maybe I'll grab a few more officers this time. The police department is right down the street from that Halloween store. I could grab a couple more cops and put them in some stupid costumes.

Customers love a themed product, right?

Anyways, Don here didn't do anything to piss me off. He actually stopped in after seeing the sign. He wanted to purchase one of my brainless studs and pimp him out to all his friends for cheap cash. I liked the idea, but Don was far too handsome to just walk off my lot.

I offered to give him a tutorial of my hypnosis, and the guy naively agreed. His car has been collecting dust in the back ever since, and he's been added into the lineup of hot men standing for sale.

So, please come by if you're interested in taking any of these guys on a test drive! Let me know which one sparks your interest!

No need to be nervous.....unless you're a handsome man yourself. Then I might just have to use my pendulum on you!

[cherryheairt]

Law of Attraction

Chapter one: Shielded

Chishiya x reader fanfiction

Starts pre-Arisu entering Borderland, months before

The Beach must have taken months to establish with all of the people that had been there far longer than Arisu and his friends. This is set right before the Beach's foundation.

warnings for all future chapters: harassment, threats, physical violence, death. typical AIB stuff

Your days were busier than ever since you started college. Studying to be a teacher, which many often pouted their lips and expressed their sympathies when you told them, was not actually as easy as people thought. You had to complete a few hundred hours of your externship on top of classes and your part-time job to pay for said classes.

The work would be fulfilling, eventually. When you finally finished shadowing Mr. Sato, the biggest pain in your ass, you could be free to begin your first official year of teaching and quit your miserable job as a bartender. Contrasting fields, yes, but the tips paid the bills well.

Each night, your shift ended at around two in the morning and you went straight from the bar and to your apartment, passing out and waking up bright and early at seven for your weekday classes. Luckily, most shifts at the bar were on Thursdays and weekends, while all classes and externship hours were during weekdays. After class, it was typically back to the bar to open.

You couldn't complain too much. Besides having a non-existent social life beyond a classroom of fourth-graders and classrooms of college students, you flew under the radar pretty well. No one had it out for you, nor you for them, but any off days you rarely had were not spent in the company of friends or even friendly coworkers, just by yourself in your little apartment waiting for time to pass. A boring and uneventful life. Sometimes you wondered what it was all for, and you had yet to find your answer. You told yourself that after graduation it would all turn out perfect, and you'd live normally while balancing your social life better, maybe even get married after a few years of healthy stability. But that itch was still on the back of your mind, asking, ‘for what?’

Today was booked with all three. After your unpaid shift with Mr. Hana's class and your ‘School and Classroom Culture’ class, you headed to work.

The club was crowded at the end of the week. Friday had brought in a chill every time the door opened, leaving the sweaty atmosphere to be momentarily paused as groups flitted in and stumbled out. You were working on your umpteenth round of the cheapest vodka shots the establishment offered, enjoying the chill despite the brash complaints around you about it. Sliding the shots onto a tray, you nodded for Hana to serve her table.

“Thanks, babe!” She chirped with a wink and shouldered the tray off to the table of cheering ladies.

Onto the next.

A man with jet black hair hovering just over his shoulders and a middle part framing his face sat right at the bar. He seemed jittery and slightly nervous, as if you might say ‘no’ to any request he may have. He was in work uniform, an office you guessed, looking beyond him to see a group of guys dressed the same and gawking at the girls dancing.

“Excuse me?” He began, glancing over his shoulder.

“What can I get you?” You perked up, putting on your best customer service place. Nervous guys were a million times better than the cocky ones who thought they were entitled to seeing more skin or even a dance from you, despite the readily available shows up front. The thrill of what they could not have, you supposed. Guys like this were a blessing, despite their eyes giving away their desires.

He licked his lips shortly, glancing down at your own chest on view through your black tank top before shooting his eyes quickly back up. “Three—no, nine, probably— sake shots.” He stumbled.

You raised a brow, counting him as the sixth. “Is that it?” You asked, moving to pull the bottle from its shelf and a multitude of glasses.

“I'm driving everyone home.” He explained with a slight flush. The men in the back chortled at one another's jokes while he seemed in no rush at all to join them again. After you poured the triple round tray, she handed it off to the guy.

You hadn't even made another full drink for the lady next to him before he was back, tray under his arm and the guys at a table downing their shots behind him. “Here,” he mumbled, politely placing the tray on the sticky counter.

You nodded appreciatively, topping the mojito off with some mint leaves on the rim. The lady smiled and thanked you before rejoining her group of friends, leaving the man standing in front of the bar awkwardly alone.

Seeing as he was the only one, you allowed yourself a brief break to wipe the counter. “Not going to join your coworkers?” You asked curiously.

He squeezed his hands together, shaking his head with pursed lips. “Co-workers.” He corrected.

You nodded understandingly, knowing he must have been coerced into being a DD for some coworkers who didn't want to spend their time sober. “How about a soda?” You offered with a small smile.

Hours passed quickly, customer's faces all bleeding together. The man eventually left with his intoxicated group after lingering around the bar and watching his co-workers and the girls both from a safe distance. You didn't think much about him after, focusing on cleaning your station and heading the hell home.

Hana brushed against you behind the bar, helping herself to a generous double shot of a lemon drop cocktail-her absolute favorite despite your sour face whenever she offers one to you-and leans against the counter to sip on it while you finish up.

"Doing anything tomorrow? I was thinking of getting dinner with some girlfriends and barhopping afterward." She suggested with a lift of her glass.

"I can't." You sighed. "Got a project to finish, then work again tomorrow night."

Hana leaned her head back as if she were wounded. "You alwaysss 'can't'. Come on, babes, live a little. You're only twenty-two, and you live like an old hermit."

You couldn't disagree. "Next time, Hana. I promise."

She sends you a sympathetic smile. "If you ever need anything, you got my number."

"I know. Thanks," you offer weakly.

Despite the chill on the walk to the train, you still felt the residue of the club on your skin and clothes. You smelled like beer and liquor over old perfume, something you'd unfortunately grown used to. Although your own insensitivity didn't stop others from giving you disgusted glances passerbys gave you as if you were stumbling around the streets of Tokyo begging for cash.

Relaxing into a seat, you felt the grogginess of the day wash over you. As much as you fought against it, you fell asleep in your empty train car.

Jerking awake at the dinging of the last stop call, you promptly collected your belongings. You jumped up and off the train, climbing the stairs and out onto the dark streets. Completely empty and nearly pitch black, you were stopped in your tracks. No people being outside at 3 a.m wasn't a crazy thing in this part of town, but the streetlights being down? You clutched your bag tight, wondering if you'd stepped into a horror movie shooting.

As you continued down the path towards your apartment, you brought up your phone to glimpse at the local news and electrical issues.

When the phone wouldn't even turn on, you began to panic. Shoving your things into your bag, you started to briskly walk home. The way was only lit up by the full moon, making reflective street signs possible to navigate around with.

When the first firework ‘popped!’ in the skies and whined all the way down, you jumped. “Fireworks?” You muttered aloud, stepping off the sidewalk to get a better view in the street. Abandoned cars littered it, but you forced yourself to ignore them in favor of this all being a high-budget movie scene. That hope could only last so long.

If the streets were really being rented out, then why wasn't the skyline of Tokyo at least still lit? It was virtually impossible to clear an entire city for a piece of media, no matter the budget.

Finally, you spotted a faint light coming from a distant building. You sprinted towards it, seeing it as your only chance for answers or other people. Let it be a prank, you silently pleaded.

When you reached the place, you read the lit sign, humming at the frank realization that this place was something like an office building. It was tall and skinny, with a logo you didn't recognize on it. Another building sat parallel to it with a bridge connecting it but it stayed unlit. Gingerly, you stepped into it and flinched as a robotic voice called out.

“One player registered. Waiting for others. Please take one phone per person.”

It was then she realized there was a silver table with a bunch of lines neatly lined up. When she grabbed one, it spoke again. “Reading facial I.D.” When you saw your name written across the white screen in bold black letters, your heart dropped to your stomach.

There was no time to dwell when another person wandered into the building. You turned to them, hoping that this person might be the one who revealed any answers, but were only met with a mirrored face. A woman, slightly taller than you with pajamas on but an alert expression. “What's going on?” She asked, voice small.

You looked behind her, seeing a foreign man enter with a disciplined calmness. “I don't know. You're the first people I've seen.” You told her, earning a frown. You both seemed to have the same idea by looking at the older man. He shrugged, glancing around.

“I was wonderin’ why all those fireworks was goin’ off.” He said tiredly.

More people entered, and a familiar face finally showed up. The man from the bar, who immediately also perked up upon seeing your face. You found each other quickly, standing side by side after everyone picked up a phone. Even if you didn't know each other, the slight comfort was like grasping at straws.

He whispered to you, suspiciously looking at all of the other strangers. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

With a hopeless shake of your head, the man sighed and melted into the wall. Cutting off the scared murmurs, the robotic female voice spoke again. “Registration closed. There are fifteen players.”

A white screen lit up at the top of the elevator.

Displayed on it as well as being read out loud: “Game: Fishbowl. Difficulty: Three of Diamonds.”

“Diamond?” You asked, getting no answer from anyone else.

“Objective: Find the exit to the mazes on each floor. There are 10 levels total. Clear conditions: Make it to the roof before the timer runs out.”

“That sounds easy enough.” A teenager's voice broke through the silence.

“Yet it doesn't explain why we're doing a game in the first place. I'm going home, fuck this.” Another guy grumbled, obviously too irritated to continue playing the random game. When he turned his back and went through the entranceway doors, the small red-lined lasers shot through him like knives.

The room erupted in panic and screams. No one was silent or still, and you stood next to the wall with warm splatters of blood on your face and clothes. With a trembling hand, you reached up to wipe a bit off, revealing the same red that touched everything else in the lobby.

“Game start. Time: Three hours.”

“Is that all we have?” You whispered, the taller man beside you eyeing the scene and the dead man silently. He seemed to straighten from his slouched and nervous posture, eyebrows knitting together like he just solved something. Without a word, he brushed past you and to the stairwell.

It let him open the door, and he disappeared up the stairs whilst everyone still flurried about.

You were quick to follow, not wanting to meet the same grizzly fate as the dead man. There would be time to figure out whats and hows and whos later—when you were safe at home.

Up the first floor of stairs, the second level's door opening and displaying a big ‘1’ on it.

The man opens it, and you are surprised to see office-like cubicle walls climbing to the top in wide rows. It was like the real office was gone and changed out with an entirely new structure. Along the white walls were some paintings still hung up and some plants somehow decorating the ugly carpet in a few corners.

He took the lead, stepping with a newfound confidence. “Wait!” You urged. “What if there's more lasers?”

He looked over his shoulder, shrugging. “Maybe, but we'll just have to find out.”

Slightly irked, you followed still. After about ten minutes, you were both utterly lost. Others had joined and started to play as little ducklings following their mother, but you supposed it would be hypocritical to judge when you had done the very same.

“We've been around the floor a hundred times!” He exaggerated, brushing his hands through his hair.

“Have some patience.” You bit. “You're freaking me out.”

Going back to the stairwell, you retraced your steps and started again.

Using the method of right-hand-to-wall as you typically followed in video games, you began to lead in front.

More minutes passed and more dead ends appeared. The windows where the main walls of the building showed the empty night sky and the next door building reflecting the moon light still. You checked your phone, seeing a flashing ‘2:32: left on your timer. Thirty minutes had passed and floor one wasn't even completed.

“Shit.” You started to run back to the start, practically having it memorized by now. You ran into the stairwell again, wincing when you half-expected the doorway to laser you down but continuing in your rush when it hadn't. The doorway to the third floor was locked, as expected, but different from the second floor, it had a small pin pad on its knob.

How obvious. All fourteen of you had spent over thirty minutes looking for a door when it was behind you all along. “We need digits!” You yelled into the doorway.

A few stragglers waited at the doorway, not having any use while most continued their search. “Look for any numbers!” The man shouted louder in your echo, leaving the room to burst into murmurs and leave plants and paintings tossed around.

The teenager came running to the door, panting but with a satisfied smile on her face. “Look! It has a ‘4’ on the back!”

The players all cheered, and you held the painting backwards to inspect. “How do we know what order to place them in?” You muttered to yourself. In a matter of minutes all of the paintings that carried numbers were laid in front of the doorway.

‘4’ ‘2’ ‘3’ ‘1’

“There's way too many options.” An old man with a hunched back spoke up darkly. “There's no time to do this for every floor.”

“Flip them.” Your club companion said.

On the fronts were simple but quite beautiful paintings of scenery. A pond, a park, a forest, and a beach.

An idea shot into your mind as you inspected the order of them. Kneeling in front of them, you arranged the paintings in the order of their backgrounds. Sunset, to noon, to afternoon, and finally to dusk. “Read them out to me in this order.” You told the man, who nodded as his eyes lit up in realization.

At the keypad, you fingered the digits he yelled out to you. “Three, two, four, one!”

It clicked open. You cheered and beckoned for the rest. After the first puzzle was solved, eight more went by smoothly. It was the same concept, only getting slightly harder as it went up. Stages of a frog, generations of a family, technological ages of humanity, and so forth until the 10th door was unlocked. Only one more door and you would be out.

When the door opened, you were stunned to see that all the walls were glass. The entire room was see-through, including the outer walls and the view from the height was nearly nauseating from all the clarity. “Everyone…” Someone called out in fear. They stood on one of the last steps behind the group. “Water is rising.” They lifted their feet up, revealing sopping wet shoes and ends of her pant legs. She scrambled to the upper steps, and everyone followed suit to get away from the water. This time, there was a clear red door on the other side of the room.

You swallowed harshly at the rapidly rising water, realizing that even closing the door behind you didn't make it any slower as it seemed to ooze out of the very walls themselves. Cubicles showed themselves, lighting up on the floor in a blinding white. “One player per room. All living players must solve their puzzles before the time runs out.”

The buzzer went off and doors opened to allow all fourteen of them into the rooms. The man and her were parallel, eyes meeting with you showing signs of nerve and him seemingly gaining confidence on his own.

A screen rose in front of you, sticking out of the water and coming to life with a riddle on its screen. “What does everyone's screen say?” You asked, hoping to collectively solve it.

“Something about two birds.” The teen replied with a desperate look to you.

“Mine is a math equation.” Another said.

The old man piped up, beginning to read off his own question though he was easily drowned out in all of the noise.

You looked to your own, which seemed daunting on its own. What happens when you get it wrong?

Your answer came in a nightmare. The old man had selected a random option in hopes of guessing correctly, and everyone could only watch on as his cube was immediately flooded to the brim with water. His lights turned bright red and you turned your gaze away and covered your ears to prevent the sight and sounds from implanting themselves in your head forever.

When it all got quiet, you checked your phone again.

‘0:08’

Eight more minutes. Your cube's water was already to your waistline and climbing still. You focused on your own question although the urge to answer other's pleas for assistance and confusion nagged at you insistently. The sound of more water and more screams and choked gargling was all that was left in the room as your water rose above your head, too.

‘What is the last number in the sequence?

895371’

You scanned over the sequence repeatedly, seeing flashes of white lights turning red around your peripherals and one turning green.

Entering a sloppy, ‘1’ in the keypad, you kicked up to the top of the cube to gasp in what little air was left at the top. Looking around you saw no one except for the club man. Your own cube's lights flashed green, and the click of the doors could vaguely be heard above the sound of rushing water. You both dived under, pushing at your doors.

His budged open immediately and he swam up and towards the exit door that lead up. You kept pushing at your own, heart racing and running out of air, but nothing made it open. Going topside again, you shouted out. “My door is jammed!”

He stopped in place, the few inches left of water between him and the ceiling showing his wet lashes looking down his nose at you. Clenching his jaw, he looked rapidly between the door and you. Finally, he clicked his tongue and pushed off the glass to your area.

In sync, you held your breaths for the last time and swam down to the door. You nodded, signaling for him to pull and you to push. After a few tries, the water-jammed door pried open and you swam together towards the red door.

You tried your hardest to ignore the lifeless floating bodies that were at the top of each cube.

It opened outwards, the two of you being flung against the wall by the water that rushed down the stairwell. A shout of pain left his lips below you and you scrambled up, panting out and apologizing for cornering him and possibly bruising his ribs.

The water didn't stop there, following you both as you ran up more stairs and onto the roof. Hands on your knees, you coughed up the remaining water from your throat and lungs and sat down, elbows shakily supporting your body. What had happened in the last three hours? You had just witnessed thirteen people die in one night when you hadn't seen a single death in your life prior.

Who put you here, and for what purpose were you playing these games?

Your phone chimed. “Game cleared. Visa days added: 3 days remaining.”

You and the man stood alone on the roof, not a single other survivor from the game alive. You weren't sure if there was any person in this world left alive, either, besides from you and him.

“You owe me.” He said with an ominous one. “Don't forget that.”

“I won't.” You promised. Then after a long pause, you added your name in a smaller tone.

“Niragi.” Was all he offered, and you briefly wondered how just over three hours ago, this man was meek and clearly a pushover in every aspect of his life. Now, everything about him seemed straighter and more intimidating.

Sticking by him, you were unsure if it meant being thrown to the wolves at the first sight of danger or defended in a play of arrogance. Though your common sense urged you to leave at the first sign of his distraction, you stayed firmly planted by his side.

Perhaps there was some benefit to this strange and peculiar world, no more work and no more rent. Safety was in numbers, after all, and having a guy like Niragi might save your ass again.

This is not a Niragi fic, although it may seem like it at first; more like a toxic and controlling relationship (think Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Grey). Changing his character slightly, Niragi has not attempted to SA anyone and will not in the future- his character had so much potential beyond that. His appearance change (piercings) doesn't start in his personal life like in canon and his job as a game designer was an office job instead of a WFH job

[petalruesimblr]

Hello and welcome back to my blog! I planned to post this about two weeks ago, but I got so busy with booking flights and reservations for my trip that I decided to wait until I returned from my vacation.

This project has been my plan for my next #FollowersGift and I’m happy that it's finally complete. It's not much, to be honest; this was just an idea I had for a career and I was unsure if I should create a part-time job again or pursue a full-time career, so I decided to do both!

The SimGuard Security Services is a full-time career based on a security company/firm while SimGuard Security is also part of that but is assigned to different lots. This took a while because aside from creating five part-time careers, I also created a full-time career that includes branches, opportunities and books, which will be fully discussed in this post. A second post will follow for the part-time careers so this one won't get too long.

Thank you to all my followers for the likes, reblogs, downloads of my content and all your kind comments! I truly appreciate each and every one of them.💜

If you are interested, click on ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures of the SimGuard Security Services Career.

SimGuard Security Services

Bulk Download: Sim File Share (Full Time and Part-Times) | For individual files, refer to this post here.

As a Security Guard, you’ll be the vigilant eyes and ears protecting everything from top-secret parties to the occasional rogue lawn gnome. Duties include patrolling, deterring mischief and ensuring our clients’ properties stay as they should—intact. If you’re prepared for an exciting mix of vigilance and adventure, apply now and become part of our SimGuard Security Services!

Career Type: Full Time Available for: Young Adults and Adults Available Languages: English Levels: 10 Rabbit Hole: Business And Journalism Does it have Carpool? Yes Does it have Uniforms? Yes File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3 📣All descriptions for the levels, tones and metrics as well as skills required, salary, uniforms and other details are provided on the pictures above. Right-click on a picture and select ’Open image in new tab’ for a clearer view.

NRAAS Careers Mod

Branches and wages: This career has two branches that branch out after level 5: the Management branch, which focuses on handling internal agency operations as you progress to higher ranks and the Field Operations branch, which allows for expertise in specific security fields. All the levels represent realistic roles based on the research I did for this career. If you prefer the managerial role, expect to read more reports and increase your logic skills. However, if you prefer roles like a bodyguard or security escort, expect to develop both athletic and logic skills as you take on different roles in the field. Levels 1-5 offer realistic hourly wages based on research. To compensate for the increased days off and decreased work hours as the level increases, I had to raise the hourly wages beyond the normal salary ranges for Levels 6-10 for both branches. Metrics and Books: I made a few changes to this career, specifically regarding the metrics. I originally planned to include "Reports" as part of the required tasks but I realized this was unrealistic since it was based on the Law Enforcement career, where individuals interview people, search through their trash and create reports based on those findings—tasks not typical for a security guard. Instead, I made it a custom tone and changed the "Reports" metric to "Research," which is based on the Medical career, where professionals read reports from their subordinates instead of medical journals. Opportunities: As this is my first time creating opportunities, I focused on developing just two for now, with only one of them being repeatable. This is because security guards need to complete a minimum number of hours of continued firearm training per year. I initially planned to include Martial Arts as part of the metrics but decided to make this base game compatible for now. I might release a different version for World Adventures but to be honest, I don’t have the time at the moment. You are always free to add it on your own for personal use (check my terms of use). Be sure to check out MissyHissy's tutorial under Credits for a step-by-step guide on how to do it. As stated above, you will need NRAAS Careers Mod for these careers to show up in the game and as long as you have the latest version of it, it should work for higher patches. You can also read my #psa regarding these careers, click here. I’m not fluent in any other languages to translate so if anyone is interested in translating this career, please don’t hesitate to send me a message here, comment on this post or let me know in my Ask/Contact form (if you don’t have a Tumblr account) and will let you know the details. I have tested this career in my game, so far it is working and all scripts are showing up. All feedback is very welcome to help me learn and improve my skills so please let me know if you experience any problems on your end and I’ll do my best to sort it as soon as possible.

MissyHissy step-by-step tutorial Twallan for the Career Mod S3pe

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Ring my bell, part 5

part 4

steddie, omegaverse, flagging/signaling culture, there’s plot now, in the smut, mdni 🔞

Eddie is surprised when he walks up to his dealing table and sees Chrissy Cunningham waiting in her cheer uniform. He considers turning around then and there, not wanting to risk her jock boyfriend coming to look for her and going all feral on him and bashing his face in. But he really needs to save his money, so turning down a paying customer isn’t something he can do.

He considers walking again when she startles so badly, but mostly he’s worried about her. She’s got blockers on, so he can’t scent much from her, but the tension in her shoulders tells him enough. The girl needs weed, or some xannies. All Eddie’s got on him is weed though, so it’ll have to do.

She’s still so jumpy, so Eddie hams it up, trips over himself to get her to laugh because laughter is easy. He shifts enough that the guitar pick he wears around his neck sneaks out from his collar.

Chrissy’s been fiddling with her own necklace—a padlock, just like Steve’s—and she asks, “What’s that one mean?” and then turning beet red. “Sorry, I just- You’ve always had the rings, didn’t think necklaces were your thing.”

“They’re not. But… Easy to keep a pick handy.” He pulls the chain forward, revealing the pendant it came with, the guitar pick a convenient excuse. Chrissy’s eyes go wide at the little anatomical heart, pierced with an arrow, and Eddie grins. “Gift from the prettiest omega I know.”

“Oh…” She shrinks in on herself again, and he knows he has to get her laughing.

“Second I scented him, thwp!” He clutches dramatically at his chest, mimes being shot through the heart and falls off the bench. Eddie pops back up. “It’s like he just gets me, about everything.” He tucks the necklace away, swings his legs back around the bench, and pulls out his lunchbox, offering her a discount on the already jacked up price for an ounce.

“Do you have anything… stronger?” Chrissy asks, glancing over her shoulder again, like she’s being watched.

“Not with me. Possession is 9/10s of the law or whatever, so best not to have anything too hard on me. And really, you should start with the weed.”

She nods, blue eyes so big in her face. “But, what if it isn’t enough?”

He pulls out a pen, writes down his number on her hand. “It’s spring break, so you can’t drop a note in my locker. Gimme a call, and I’ll see what I can rustle up.” He knows he’s got some Special K squirreled away, for in case Steve gets one of his bad migraines and he wants to sleep through it. “Or check the medicine cabinet—see if your mom’s got a secret Xanax script. One of those will melt your worries.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks.” She smiles, and it looks real enough. She pushes herself up to standing.

“So do you want the weed?” Eddie joggles the baggie in front of her.

“Right, sorry! Yes, I do.” She reaches into the band of her skirt and pulls out a couple fives, trading him for the weed.

Eddie schools his face when he takes them from her. “Pleasure doing business. I hope it helps.”

“Me too.”

He watches her leave, the bills sitting close enough to her skin and sweat that they stink with her scent. Eddie thinks it’s vaguely fruity, but it’s too covered over in acrid fear that he isn’t sure at all.

💍💘🐽

Eddie sees Steve across the parking lot, the basketball game getting out the same time as Hellfire, and he has to clench his fist to keep from waving. He wants to run to him, kiss him, sweep him into his arms and deposit him safely into his van so they can drive home together.

Instead, he bids the guys goodnight and drives to Forest Hills alone. He beats Steve by more than 20 minutes, since he has to give Robin a ride home. Which means Eddie can do a modicum of cleaning, including rearranging the blankets and pillows on his bed to be a little more nest-like for Steve’s comfort.

Steve doesn’t knock, just comes straight in, and Eddie races to him. “Hey, Puppy, how’d the game go?” he asks, kissing him hello, waiting for an answer before going total horndog on him.

“Lucas scored the game-winning basket, so please have the guys congratulate him next week.” Steve has already complained about Eddie’s refusal to hold the game for Lucas, even took away his pussy privileges for a week until he’d groveled and explained how he had the entire year planned out, he couldn’t skip a week since he was finally graduating. This campaign was his baby!

And Steve liked the sound of Eddie graduating, so he was willing to forgive this one discretion.

“Of course, Stevie. And Erica held her own. You should be proud of your youngest.” He grins wide, and Steve fondly rolls his eyes.

“Please stop talking about the twerps like I birthed them.”

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” He sinks down to his knees, puts himself level with Steve’s crotch. “Want a pup of your own,” he murmurs, hand coming up to cradle Steve’s belly, “Right here.”

Eddie smells it when Steve slicks his pants, his sweetness sickly with his desperation for that little dream.

“Want you to shut up and fuck me already,” Steve moans, gripping Eddie by the collar and pulling him to his feet. He’s sloppy as he kisses him, and Eddie purrs.

He loves Steve and Steve loves him, and they both see their future together. He’s really getting sick of waiting for that future to start. But at least he gets to take Steve to bed right now.

🍃🍃🍃

The next morning, the basketball team wakes up in the shell of Benny’s Burgers. There’s blood and black on the ceiling, and Chrissy Cunningham’s broken body on the floor. It takes nearly an hour for the boys to stop screaming long enough to call the police.

Part 6

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Three Nights in Mexico

Mexico- a beautiful, vast country that Y/N would have otherwise loved to visit if she didn’t have to be responsible for a gang of grown children while she was there.

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

4.1k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, drug mention, alcohol use, one night stands, nudity, skinny dipping, cavity searches, vomit, waterborne disease

An: Thank you so much for sending in requests! This is the only Manager!Y/N fic I’ve written about a place I’ve actually been to! XD As a note, if you have not tried a concha I am URGING you to those things r to die for! Also, the incident described in the beginning of this fic was actually based off of a real thing that Steve-O did! Anyways, thank you for the requests and please keep them coming!

The guys were full of giggles as you sat around in those uncomfortable plastic chairs in the Mexican customs office. You started to feel that you were the only person who was taking this remotely seriously, given the fact Knoxville was capturing this whole thing on the camcorder you knew he wasn’t supposed to have there. Even Steve, who was currently receiving a full cavity search on the other side of the very thin wall, thought what was happening was comedy gold. But you really couldn’t feel too bad for him- after all, it was his decision to ask the security agent if he could lay on his back and go through the baggage X-Ray machine (you still had no idea why he let him), and he did intentionally put that condom full of cocaine in his ass as a part of that “Drug Mule” stunt he was planning for the new movie. To nobody’s surprise, the oblong shape in his colon raised a couple red flags. Your heart went out to whatever poor, latex-gloved security agent was currently feeling around in him. For a while, there was nothing but stifled snickers while everyone in the waiting area held their breath, before it was broken by a yelp from the other room and that familiar raspy voice, “Ah- dude! Aren’t you supposed’t take me out to dinner first or somethin’?” How did you even let this happen?

Your high school level understanding of Spanish wasn't helping you in the slightest as you tried to bargain with the custom’s officer, “Uh…¡Necesito ir ahora! ¡Muy urgente, señor!” Why couldn’t it be Bam or Ryan or Johnny who got pulled back there instead of the one guy in the group that actually spoke the damn language? From the other side of the room, Chris raised his hand and chuckled, trying his hand at reasoning with the buff man in the uniform you were pleading, “Hey! I mean- I could stand in for him!” Turning to shoot a ‘shut the fuck up’ glare back at him, you went back to what you were doing. “¡Ellos son actores muy famosos! Yo soy sus agente.” He didn’t budge.

It was moments like these that made you nostalgic for that time you had to bail Steve out of airport custody after that time he had the idea for an awesome stunt- trying to see how long he could keep a cigarette lit inside of a federally owned building: not very long. Sighing, you thought back to that piece of advice Jeff let you in on from his Wildboyz days of traveling abroad with these idiots. For a while you considered if you would really stoop so low as to follow his word, but considering the circumstances, you didn’t really have a choice. Blinking hard under the white fluorescent lights, you hesitantly pulled your wallet out with a sigh and, as sneakily as you could, slipped a couple five-hundred peso notes into the custom officer’s waiting hand. He looked at you, then to the other agents who all clearly saw what you did, and made a gesture to them to open the door.

Knoxville couldn’t believe it. A lady such as yourself, who was always so damn adamant about them obeying the law- did you actually just bribe a customs officer? He didn’t think you had it in you. The entire ride to your hotel in that shitty, little, not private at all shuttle bus full of all the other idiot tourists, he caught a glance here and there of you with this amused look on his face as he just imagined all the ways he was going to hold this over your head. But you didn’t notice- you had better things to worry about, such as the fact Ryan was currently fast asleep on your shoulder and didn’t show any signs of waking up any time soon, or the million questions Bam had been pressing you with since you left the airport. Even after you told him that no, just because it’s not a great idea drink the tap water in Mexico doesn’t mean he should avoid showers or brushing his teeth like the plague and yes, they do have alcohol other than beer and tequila here (including whiskey, which he was particularly concerned about), he still had more damn questions. “Hey- hey, Y/N. D’they have skate parks in Mexico?” Wordlessly nodding, you leaned your head against the cool bus window. “What about McDonald’s- d’they have that?” You squeezed your eyes shut at his insistence- it was like dealing with a four year old. Groaning, you rubbed the space between your eyes, “Yes, Bam. They have McDonald’s in Mexico.” You knew his high school education didn’t leave him with the most awareness of the world outside of the states, but you didn’t think he was that stupid. Christ- he’d been to Cabo for Viva La Bam! Letting out a sigh of relief, Bam sat back in the stiff little bus seat that probably hadn’t been cleaned in years and nodded, thinking out loud, “I could make do with that, yeah...”

That night, after everyone got unpacked, the guys decided to go out to have a few drinks, especially after a bit of animated convincing and high inference language from Steve, who went on and on about how they were gonna fuckin’ party tonight, and that last time he was in Mexico he was just swarmed with chicks who were fiending for a piece of the ole’ Steve-O. Hearing that, the guys were more than eager to jump at that opportunity, leaving you and Ryan, who was too tired to party that night, to sit back in the room. Taking a sip from the bottle in his hand, he looked up with half lidded eyes and held it out to you, “Want some?” You shrugged from where you sat on the bed as your eyes stayed fixed on whatever movie was playing on hotel cable. “Nah, m’alright.”

The night went by pretty quietly after that- for you, of course: you watched some tv and got to bed at eleven or so. It wouldn’t be until the next day where you would catch word of all the shit that went down while you were peacefully asleep. And as the early morning sun came streaming in your window picturesquely, you stirred in your bed to discover that Bam, who was fast asleep, was lying by your side, which is both a nightmare you had definitely had before and a sentence you never thought you’d say. Panicking, you peeled his arms off of you and hurriedly sat up to survey the damage, notably the fact that the room was completely empty besides the three of you- three including Ryan, who felt as if he’d spent the night with his head in the minibar and was about this close to vomiting in his shoe, still hadn’t left his chair and was slowly blinking awake. “Ryan! What the hell happened last night?” Groggily, at first, he began to recount the story he got secondhand from Bam.

Everything had been going fine until right about two am at the bar, because as we all know, the road to cultural understanding begins and ends with beer- well, tequila in Steve’s case. Three hours at the shitty little bar near the hotel, and Bam still couldn’t get a drink, which had absolutely nothing to do with his lack of language skills. They had been relying on Steve, which was getting hard considering how popular he was that night given how many shots he was buying for random strangers. Bam had to look up and yell to speak to him, due in part to both the loud music and the distance between the bar stool and on top of the bar where he was standing. “Hey-hey dude. Can you ask for some Jack Daniel’s?” Steve was more occupied with the cheering crowd he had attracted from the Payaso de Rodeo he was doing standing on the bar top, made more impressive was how well he was dancing after downing that fifth of tequila. Turning to the bartender with a grin, he held up two fingers and shouted, “¡Mas chupitos, por favor! ¡Mezcal!” There was only one word in that sentence Bam understood, and he was pretty sure the word for whisky is the same no matter what language you say it in. Johnny, who happened to be sitting next to him at the bar groaned, lamenting his own language barrier he encountered trying to chat up the hot chick next to him, and said no nobody in particular, “Not with the fuckin’ Spanish again…” as if they wernt in a country whose official language was Spanish. Throwing his hands in the air, Bam turned to him, exasperated, “That’s what I’m sayin’!”

That’s around when Bam decided to leave the bar, stumbling alone through the streets of Mexico City to get back to the room: hungry, sober, and mad about it. He found you and Ryan still awake. Ryan shot you a ‘what’s his problem?’ look as Bam threw himself onto the bed, but given your years of expereince dealing with his pissy nonsense, you could sort of read him. Angrilly grumbling to himself, he didn’t even hear you as you punched in the number for room service, “Hey, can I get a cheeseburger and a bottle of Jack Danniel’s up to room 107?”

In between ordering it and receiving the food, you had fallen asleep, completely missing the mumbling, half coherent rant Bam gave to nobody in particular, questioning why they couldn’t have filmed that desert shit in Arizona or New Mexico or some other fuckin’ place besides Mexico and lied and just said they went there, all while sounding more or less like a little kid asking his parents to bring him home from summer camp. He was ready to call it a night, which really just meant getting naked, but thank god that when there was a knock at the door, Bam at least had the decency to pull a shirt on before he went to answer it, assuming it was one of the guys getting back from the bar. The look on the delivery guy's face as he stared up at him from where he was setting the food down was priceless, made even more so by the fact that the shirt Bam grabbed was several inches shy of his crotch. All Dunn heard was the delivery guy’s panicked, stumbling footsteps as he dashed down the hallway and Bam, who was seemingly oblivious, didn’t question how it showed up or who ordered it as he brought the food in with a shrug, “Guy ran off quick.”

It was that point in the morning you decided to leave the boys and head to your own room. When you opened the door to do so, lo and behold, there was Johnny. In his underwear, laying face down in the hallway, and very not sneakily eating off of a room service tray that you knew wasn't yours. “Alright Knoxville,” As his eyes darted up to you like a guilty dog, you rubbed your temples and went into responsible adult mode, “let’s get’cha to bed…” You had to lean down and grab him under the arms to pull a little and get him to his feet, surely a funny sight especially given the fact he still had a little bit of someone else’s breakfast on his face, “Oh, you wanna go to bed with me?” Leave it to him to try and flirt with you as you were practically carrying him to his room. Given the fact he was still a little drunk, you were thankful you didn’t have to get them on set for a few hours and you hoped Johnny could just sleep it off. “Cmon, lay down...” That earned you an eyebrow raise and a crooked grin from him as he fell back against the mattress, something that you would’ve found charming if he didn’t have a very clear piss stain on the front of his boxers, “Ooh! An assertive woman…I like it!”

Still drunk, Johnny stared up at you from the bed with hearts in his eyes as his lips curled into a knowing half smirk and he shook his head, “Y/N- I still can’t believe y’bribed a cop…” At the mention of that incident at the customs office, your face dropped, flushing pink with embarrassment as Ryan blinked in disbelief, “Wait, who bribed a cop?” While you were out in the hallways, busy hauling in the six foot one man who was laying out there all by yourself, Bam had apparently woken up and was still snickering when you whipped your head around. “Oh my god- Y/N bribed a cop!” He was still laying on the bed shirtless, tangled up in the sheets like some kind of male model. “Yeah,” Ryan sat up, taking a swig of stale whiskey from the open bottle in his hand, “an’ you slept with her.” And the misunderstandings kept coming…Now Bam’s expression of wide eyed delebeif mimicked yours as he misconstrued the idea of sharing a bed with the image of the two of you fucking. “Wow…first a felony, now you’re screwin’ Bam? Never really pegged you for the wild type, Y/N.” Sighing, you shook your head as you tried not to let Johnny’s teasing get you flustered. It’s not like you wanted to admit that you actually kinda enjoyed it when he talked to you like that. You decided just to go back to your room and try to catch a few z’s before you had to get their asses up. As you went for the door, Bam buried his face in his pillow, groaning, “Ugh…I’m gonna be sick.” You had awoken to an ugly, half remembered montage of, ‘no it didn’t happen. it couldn’t have happened! that’s your story and you’re sticking to it.’s and all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

So you did. Unfortunately, you were rudely woken up maybe an hour later by Jeff's call on the hotel room phone and you tried to make yourself sound more awake than you were, “What’s up?” In contrast to his usual tone, he sounded surprisingly calm on the other end of the line, “Hey, just calling to check in and make sure everyone’s ready to shoot. Be on set by 9!” Making a mental note of it, you pulled yourself to your feet and started getting dressed as you shot a glance at the clock. “Got it- yeah, we’re doing alright. But, now that I think about it, I don’t know where Chris or Steve are…” Suddenly, his tone sounded distinctly panicked, “Wait what?” but before you could try and explain yourself, Jeff was going off on you, “Listen, I’m not gonna be bailing these guys outta some- some Mexican jail somewhere! I need their asses on set for that cactus jump stunt today.” Before you had the chance to argue, he hung up. How the hell were you going to manage this?

The first thing Steve realized when he woke up with the sun in his eyes was that he was surrounded by dogs, which he was stoked about before he realized the fact he was also just asleep in an alleyway, which never meant anything good happened the night before. Sitting up groggily against the brick wall behind him to try and collect himself, all the street dogs that were sniffing and licking at Steve’s face quickly turned to what he only just noticed he was laying on- a bag of dog food. The dots took a while to connect in his head but eventually he put two and two together, reaching over to tear open the cloth bag. Pulling himself to his feet, Steve grinned to himself as he watched those little fellas chow down. Meanwhile, about half a mile away, Chris was waking up as well, only in maybe less ideal circumstances than his buddy did: laying on the sands of some public beach, ass naked, with no clue as to where the hell he was or how he got there. Pretty par for the course for those two.

After an hour of driving around, you eventually corralled everyone up, as uncomfortable it is to be trapped in a moving vehicle with a completely nude man. Better you than the police, you thought. You caught bits and pieces of their conversation, gradually piecing together the story as best you could: Steve and Chris, the last people in the bar that night, got thrown- not kicked, thrown out around three or four. They decided to call it a night, but before they headed back to the hotel, Steve told Chris he was gonna stop to take a piss. Before he got the chance to zip up his pants and make his way out of the alley he stepped into, Chris was long gone, having run off with two ladies from the bar who met up with him outside and seemed very eager to catch up with him. But still, you were thankful to finally have everyone together again. Hell, with the way things were going, you might actually have everyone on set on time today! You were feeling more relaxed than you had the entire trip as you opened the door for Chris and Steve, “Alright you two. Just get ready and meet me downstairs in five-“

As you would come to find out, it wasn't the thought of sleeping with you, which in Bam’s mind was on par with fucking your babysitter, that made him feel sick. Yep, you opened the door and there he was, regurgitating the contents of his stomach and not even having the decency to close the bathroom door behind him. Steve, in one of his seemingly random moments of wisdom, knew immediately what was up, “Drinks with ice?” From where his head was in the toilet, Bam nodded. Steve held up his hand to whisper to you, “Send him out with a bucket- he’ll be fine.” before turning back to Bam, “You’ll be alright. I mean, there’s worse you could have, man! Giardia, Montezuma’s Revenge…” You weren't the only person who was amazed at his medical knowledge as Chris looked over at him with wonder in his eyes, like a kid watching a magic trick, and chuckled, “Woah. You should be a doctor or somethin’…” Now that’s something you don’t want to see- Steve as a doctor.

That night, after Bam thankfully started feeling better, you made the poor decision of leaving the guys unsupervised at the pool under the assumption that there was only so much trouble they could start within a fenced-in area, like putting a toddler in a playpen. Oh, how wrong you were. You spent the night peacefully alone in your room, happy that things were finally calming down a little. That was, however, until you received a phone call that whoever was staying in said room needed to find new accommodations because they were no longer welcome. “I’m sorry sir- this has to be a mistake!” But the guy on the other end of the line hung up on you before you could reason with him. Hurrying to your feet, you punched Jeff’s number into your phone, knowing he would without a doubt be pissed but you didn’t really have anyone else to call. Rushing to the elevator then down into the lobby, you quickly found the manager and the words seemed to tumble out of your mouth, “Oh my god- I am so sorry about all of this- I really don’t- what is going on, exactly?” Deadpan, all the guy did was point you to the pool area outside.

Running out and onto the pool deck (even though that’s the one thing people tell you not to do), the very first sight you were greeted with was this white blur standing out against the darkness of the night sky. A few seconds later you realized what it was- Steve-O, doing a gainer into the pool off of some second story balcony he climbed up on, and splashing into the water, ass naked. You couldn’t see if Bam or Chris were clothed from where they were messing around and wrestling in the pool, even less with Knoxville and Ryan, who were sitting over in the hot tub chatting up a few half naked girls, but you made some assumptions. You were fucked. Unequivocally, unilaterally fucked. And then, with impeccable timing, guess who comes screeching up behind you, practically parking the van on the sidewalk? “You. Out!” Storming past you, Jeff was a man on a mission as he threw open the gate and grabbed a very unsuspecting Bam by his hair, hoisting him up like a mama cat and giving you a clear as day view of his pasty white ass.

“What on earth made you think, ‘Oh! Let’s all get shitfaced and swim naked in the hotel pool!’“ Jeff was anxiously pacing back and forth in front of the bench that he hauled the guys onto while you, under his orders, passed out towels for them to cover themselves up with. He shook his head like a disappointed father, “Now, thanks to you, you shitheads just got your sorry asses kicked out of the one hotel that’d take you! Great fuckin’ job, guys...” You felt a little awkward standing by his side as he lectured them while the guys just sat there, staring at you guiltily as if you were the lifeguard that kicked the kids out for adult swim.

Unbeknownst to you and everyone else, Jeff and the rest of the crew were staying at a pretty fancy resort, while you and the guys got the shaft and had to stay at the creepy craphole down the road. “Wait- why couldn’t we stay here?” Chris asked as the group was busy oohing and aahing and cursing their director under their breath as they pulled up to the sparkling mass that was the hotel. “Because,” Jeff roughly shifted the car into park, “somebody has a tendency to jump out of windows.” This comment was directed towards Bam, made even more so by a little thing you referred to as the Margera Curse. Due to his reputation, all it took was one look at his ID and whatever hotel, rental car agency, or insurance provider immediately denied Bam (in particular, but the guys had experience with this to lesser degrees).

One star people at a five star resort. That’s what it felt like when the guys walked in the marble floored lobby wearing nothing but their towels. There were ladies wearing pearls and businessmen in suits- for god’s sake, the place had a damn chandelier, and there was the Jackass crew, half naked dripping chlorine all over the tile. Of course, given the fact they were celebrities, they attracted quite a great deal of attention as Warden Tremaine tried to quickly escort them through the lobby without causing too much of a commotion. Still, they couldn’t help but take it all in, waving and smiling as a few tourists snapped pictures with around-the-neck cameras, like they were some kinda landmark people could go home and say they visited. But eventually, you got to the one room all the guys were crammed into and Bam groaned when he got a look at it, “We’re sharing a room again?” Rolling his eyes, Jeff turned to his own door, “Yes. You idiots earned it.”

Later that night, you were about halfway into a vending machine concha when you got a knock on your door. See, you hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and by that time of night you were starving, so you had gone ahead and grabbed a few snacks for yourself. To your surprise, even though everyone had surely gone to sleep, standing there in front of you out in the hall was…Knoxville? “Uh, hey Y/N.” It must’ve looked kinda funny from an outsider’s perspective as you stood there, still chewing on that last bite you took while he explained, “I wanted to say sorry for all the shit the guys an’ I pulled tonight...” It was a rare moment of remorsefulness from him, which was odd considering how typical this was in terms of things you had to deal with. “It's fine- I mean, they’re not your responsibility.” In fact, they were your responsibility- you were paid to have them as your responsibility, and even you weren't all that concerned. “I’m serious. I-“ Midway through his sentence, Johnny’s stomach growled, and you realized that he was probably in a similar situation as you were. So, in an expression of goodwill, you took the pastry that was in your hands and held it out to him. Looking at you, then the half eaten concha with some speculation, then to you again, Knoxville accepted it, looking right at you as he took a bite out of the part you just ate from.

[todaysdocument]

Joint Resolution of June 14, 1954, Public Law 83-396, 68 STAT 249, to Amend the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America

Record Group 11: General Records of the United States GovernmentSeries: Enrolled Acts and Resolutions of Congress

THE WHITE HOUSE [STAMPED ON LEFT MARGIN]

[THE REST OF THE STAMP IS CUT OFF]

GENERAL SERVICES ADMINISTRATION [STAMPED ON RIGHT MARGIN]

RECEIVED [STAMPED ON RIGHT MARGIN]

JUN 14 1954 [STAMPED ON RIGHT MARGIN]

NARS [STAMPED ON RIGHT MARGIN]

FEDERAL REGISTER DIVISON [STAMPED ON RIGHT MARGIN]

PUBLIC LAW [STAMPED] 396 [HANDWRITTEN]

CHAPTER [STAMPED] 297 [HANDWRITTEN]

H. J. Res. 243

Eighty-third Congress of the United States of America [centered]

AT THE SECOND SESSION [CENTERED]

Begun and held at the CIty of Washington on Wednesday, the sixth day of January, [centered]

one thousand nine hundred and fifty-four [centered]

Joint Resolution [centered]

To amend the pledge of allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United

States of America in Congress assembled, That section 7 of the joint

resolution entitled "Joint resolution to codify and emphasize existing

rules and customs pertaining to the display and use of the flag of the

United States of America", approved June 22, 1942, as amended (36

U.S.C. sec. 172), is amended to read as follows:

"SEC. 7. The following is designated as the pledge of allegiance to

the flag: 'I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of

America and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under

God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all'. Such pledge should

be rendered by standing with the right hand over the heart. However,

civilians will always show repsect to the flag when the pledge

is given by merely standing at attention, men removing the headdress.

Persons in uniform shall render the military salute."

Joseph W. Martin Jr. [signature]

Speaker of the House of Representatives

Styles Bridges [signature]

President of the Senate. [typeset] pro Tempore [handwritten]

APPROVED [STAMPED]

JUN 14 1954 [STAMPED]

Dwight D. Eisenhower [signature]

[petit-etoile]

Astarion is a taco bell worker who has not had a single day off in 2 years because his manager can't be assed to teach anyone else how to close. He longs to one day see the sun again and be free of these twisted and evil taco nights

in  motion,  in 3D

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 7,156 content warnings: please do not have sex in parking lots !! but anyway, all characters are in university & tacobellstarion works to pay for his law books, i use a lot of pet names from both spawn & ascended astarion, but he's not a vampire in this universe so his morality is mostly in tact,  nearly 7k of pure smut other tags: alternate universe - college/university, porn what plot/porn without plot, pwp, established relationship, semi-public s.ex, b.lowjobs, riding, c.reampie, shameless smut, taco bell, gender neutral tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness be added to the taglist here

summary:  Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform.

College is already hard enough. Add in a job on the side that requires you to stay up long before even the partiest of party kids have gone to sleep, and life might start to seem even bleaker. Astarion may not have gone out of state for his college adventures, but it was still hard. The expense of the university, the expense of staying on campus, and the expense of wanting to afford textbooks unfortunately resulted in this.

He takes a long, exhausted look around the cluttered Taco Bell and considers sobbing on the floor. Despite all the work put in to make the building seem pristine, the shop always seems as though it’s been through some soft of galactic turbulence by the time the night has ended. The last thing Astarion wants to see is a catty text from the day shift saying things were still dirty. He might snap his phone if he sees Enver Gortash (saved in his phone as DO NOT ANSWER!!!) texting him at a bright and early seven in the morning.

Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform. He hates it  —  He loathes it more than anything else, but it’s the only thing that keeps him from sinking further into nearing-graduation depression. This is the only way he stays sane.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and taps in his password, a cute little anniversary date, and checks his text messages before anyone can rat him out to the team manager in the back. There’s a Snapchat that he can’t check and a few text messages, and he presses on them so desperately he thinks he might be going a little insane. It’s only been a few hours and yet…

LOML: i'm coming to get u!!

Astarion smiles so wide he thinks his face might crack. It makes him giggle, swing his feet, twirl his hair around his finger. He feels very baby girl, as Karlach liked to put it. He types a quick ‘MY HERO’ before sliding his phone back in his pocket. That one text is all he needed to hold on for the last thirty minutes of work.

‘Alright!’ Wyll calls from the back. He looks up from his new shiny Apple watch. ‘Last customer is out, so you know what that means. Closing time. Let’s get this show on the road!’

Closing time is somehow the best part of Astarion’s day and the worst. The best, because he knows who will be waiting for him outside to pick him up as soon as everything is neat and tidied inside. The worst, because someone has to clean the bathrooms and he refuses to do it. There’s a bleakness, a despair to the Taco Bell bathrooms. It truly takes the world’s strongest to venture forth and clean them, and Astarion’s recently had a manicure. He scours the room critically before his sight lands on his second favorite co-worker ever!

‘Jenevelle,’ he purrs, turning to look at his younger co-worker. ‘It’s your turn to clean the bathrooms.’

‘It isn’t,’ she says snootily, pushing an Airpod into her ear to drown him out. ‘I did it yesterday. The men’s room is a crime against humanity.’

Astarion frowns. ‘I’m older. You do it. I refuse.’

'Just because you're like, seventy-something and still working at Taco Bell doesn't mean that's what the rest of us want to do,' Jenevelle says, blowing an obnoxiously large bubble with her gum. She slides off the counter and rolls her eyes. 'You're cringe.'

'Bold,' Astarion says, scandalized at only a young twenty-four years of age, 'considering that's coming from someone who put down the name Shadowheart on her application form and dresses like Olivia Rodrigo. Now, go clean the ladies' bathrooms before I feel inclined to point out you have nasolabial folds at eighteen.'

Shadowheart gasps in mock horror, putting a hand to her mouth. She rushes to get the cleaning supplies and does as she was told, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. Astarion is almost certain he’s going to wake up to a text from Gale laughing about how the story is being shared on a small indie podcast. It’s enough to send shivers down Astarion’s spine, but not enough to offer to swap places with Shadowheart. He goes back to petulantly sorting the hot sauce packets.

He pockets one mocking saying ‘I’m Your Main Squeeze!’ and shoves the containers back from where they came from. It’s easy closing, he tells himself. If closing were any easier, the morning shift wouldn’t complain so much. It’s what he has to tell himself as he wipes down the counter.

It’s hard to hold onto hope during these tough taco hours. Astarion just checked his phone, but if he were to check it again, he’s almost certain not even a minute would have passed. No matter how hard he scrubs the counter, everything smells like refried beans. His hair smells like refried beans. His shirt smells like refried beans. His skin must smell like refried beans. It’s a nightmare.

‘Dude, I cannot wait to get out of here,’ Wyll complains, coming to lean on the counter. He begins pretending to sort packets too. ‘Do you have any plans, Astarion?’

‘Ravengard,’ Astarion says patiently, ‘it is three in the morning. My plan is to sleep.’

‘Serious about that beauty sleep?’

‘Dead serious.’

Wyll hums. ‘The rest of us were going to go out for a drink. We wanted to know if you wanted to come with us. You know, to let off steam.’

Astarion considers it the same way one considers eating leftovers. He thinks about it then thinks about the sage old rule: There is nothing open after three in the morning besides jail cells and iHop. He decides against it. Doesn’t want to risk the price of bail after a night of drinking.

Besides, there’s someone coming to pick him up anyway. The thought of you crosses his mind and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy about it. Between all the work from school and the stress of trying to make Burrito Supremes, you make going through the hardship of closing every single night worth it.

He’s supposed to be doing something, but Astarion can’t remember what it was that Wyll told him needed extra attention at the beginning of his shift or what closing a store entails anymore. He takes out his phone one more time and looks at his screen so he can memorize his screensaver which is a cute photo of you asleep in his shirt and drooling.

‘Ugh, you’re so happy it’s gross,’ Wyll says, wrinkling his nose.

‘Oh please,’ Astarion snorts. ‘As if you and Lae’zel aren’t sickening.’

If Astarion is being completely honest, almost all couples are. Somehow, the two of you don’t get to avoid that connotation. He remembers when you first started dating. You celebrated one week of dating, then two, then every month, then every other month just because it delighted you to do so. Astarion’s reputation is that he’s a prickly, unkind asshole which isn’t entirely too far from the truth, but the difference is that you are you, and you deserve all the nice things he can give.

But before anyone can complain about Astarion being sappy again, he slides his phone into his pocket and goes about his closing to-do list. He fusses over Karlach’s dishes. After working at a fast food restaurant, he’s pretty sure he’ll never eat at one again  —  but what the public doesn’t know what hurt them. They’re clean enough to anyone terribly concerned about it.

Isobel is hastily cleaning the floors. She and Aylin will never beat the grossest couple allegations, but Astarion thinks she’s the cutest thing in the world with her big eyes and fluffy eyelashes and perfectly smudged eyeliner. Once, he found Isobel and Shadowheart in the bathroom comparing shopping bags at Ulta instead of working the drive through. Astarion never told, but they owed him favors for two weeks in a row. Those were the best two weeks of his life.

Astarion does, however, fuss over the cleanliness of the lobby. The store itself feels permanently smudged in grease and smells about as nice as a locker room, but he refuses to be in the kind of establishment that refuses to clean the soda dispenser nozzles. He watches Wyll clean them then cleans them again himself.

And lastly, very lastly, Astarion gathers all the mops and brooms and rags and towels and puts them back from whence they came. Isobel finishes checking the filters to make sure they’re spotless about the same time Shadowheart comes miserably from the bathrooms with a look of utter despair on her features. He should probably feel bad, but he’s just thankful he didn’t have to do it himself. He wonders if he can somehow convince Wyll to do them tomorrow… but that’s a thought for another day, and Astarion only has one thing on his mind now that the store is closed.

You. 

Thank the gods, it’s you. You’re a blessing in disguise if you’ll ever admit it. You willingly wake up in the middle of the night to come pick up Astarion, and you’ve never complained about it despite it being well beyond your bedtime. It’s embarrassing to admit that it’s something the both of you look forward to. A little private time away from dorm roommates and their friends who all like to crowd into impossibly tiny rooms because they haven’t spent enough time with each other throughout the day somehow.

The thought of you puts a pep in Astarion’s step. He checks his phone one last time to read your latest text message and feels like his heart is about to soar out of his throat. He bounces from foot to foot impatiently while waiting at the door for Wyll to come see everyone out, but as soon as that door opens, he’s darting across the parking lot to your familiar car. He never gets in a hurry for anything, but it’s different tonight.

You watch the other couples scurry to their own vehicles for their own safety. Shadowheart rides with Karlach and they’ll hang out at Rolan and Lia’s until Viconia DeVir spam texts her enough that she comes home. Wyll races to Lae’zel’s slick sports car, and seeing them make it across the parking lot is all you really care about. You turn your devout attention back to Astarion.

One might be wondering what you’ve been up to tonight, but it’s an easy answer. You were studying for your many quizzes and tests which infuriate you to no end, because college is hard and Astarion can’t help you study. Not that he would be that helpful. Luckily, Gale and Halsin are astute professors who actually don’t mind helping students  —  and they both have a you shaped soft spot that makes it impeccably easy for you to convince them to tutor you. They helped you go over your coursework and somehow managed to play footsie with one another under the table at the same time, although Gale kept bumping into you by accident and Halsin kept laughing. Either way, you made it through two hours of intense studying in just enough time to pick up Astarion from work.

You almost wish he had helped you study instead, but… He’s smart, coy, a future lawmaker in the making, but Astarion is gorgeous. His talents are wasted on learning laws and balancing books. To say that you wouldn’t get anything done if Astarion helped you study is an understatement. One might think you innocent enough with a cute picture of you and Astarion as your lock screen, but opening up your phone shows one of your most recent endeavors. A risque photograph of Astarion’s cum on your stomach in black-and–white to make it less scandalous, of course.

He should be a model styled in the latest Gucci and coveted by all, but you’re also increasingly biased. You’re wearing a baggy band sweater and sweatpants when he comes around the corner of the restaurant, and he’s so incredibly cute in his stupid Taco Bell uniform that you can’t help but wiggle in your seat. You unlock the door as he comes bolting to the passenger side, and he climbs in and meets you halfway for a kiss.

‘You smell like tomatoes,’ you laugh.

‘Oh, I suppose I’ll walk home then,’ he snorts.

Astarion always comes home smelling of Crunchwrap Supremes and Baja Blasts. Underneath the smell of grated cheese and refried beans and offensive-to-the-nose lemon, he smells like his personalized cologne too. You sniff him unapologetically and try to not feel giddy as he giggle-snorts his way back into the passenger seat.

You watch as he flings his hat into your backseat and begins ruffling his hair back into the usual coiled, curly hairstyle he’s usually sporting. You watch, with a quiet smile, and fight the yawn that’s been plaguing you since you set out to study anatomy around midnight.

It would be downright cringe to admit you want to study his anatomy since he smells like Taco Bell, but the uniform looks so damn good on him. It’s dorky in a way that makes your heart race. When he stretches, his shirt untucks a little and a peek of his belly shines through. That makes what you’re feeling ten times worse.

Maybe it says more about you than it does Astarion, but he would be attractive even if he was wearing a paper bag. You’ve heard the way the other students gossip about him. They like his long legs or his lean neck, or his loud personality. He’s a self-proclaimed short king with a wicked smile and a dangerous sense of humor. That’s why, no matter what he’s wearing or what he’s been doing, the sight of him makes your heart seize into your throat. You want him. You want him bad enough that you glance around the parking lot to make sure everyone is gone.

‘Was work difficult tonight?’ you ask.

‘The customers,’ Astarion groans, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Why do thirty seven high schoolers come into Taco Bell before close to order everything off the menu? It takes forever! And they’re so weird, shoving paper from their straws into their Baja Blasts and filling it with salt and pepper and hot sauce then daring their friends to drink it. Weird! Weirdos!’

‘What if I said I was hungry?’ you ask slyly.

‘Don’t even play,’ he growls. ‘I’m tired and  —  Oh my gods, you’ll never guess the drama from today.’

Astarion sets off on a long tangent about work related drama. His boss got into an argument with their boss and now everyone else is in trouble because someone who works the morning shift lost a set of keys. It’s nothing you’re particularly interested in, but it’s nice to hear Astarion talk to you. You adjust the radio to be quieter and turn the air up to be warmer. You’re so terrifyingly cozy you’re bound to fall asleep, but that’s okay. You lean back against your seat and close your eyes too.

‘That sounds like a mess.’

‘Aren’t you glad you don’t work?’

‘Beyond glad,’ you say.

Astarion hums. ‘How did studying go? Did you memorize anything interesting today?’

‘No,’ you say. ‘But, well, there was something I wanted your help with…’

You look across the console to watch him. He doesn’t seem as sleepy as you are. He offers you his hand and you take it just to hold it, fighting a shy smile as you do so. You give him a few more minutes to unwind after his shift before reaching for your keys in the ignition.

Astarion reaches for your hand. His fingertips slide across your upper arm to your fingers, wrapping around you to prevent you from starting the car. You swallow thickly. It’s almost like he read your  —

‘You look absolutely wrecked, my dear,’ Astarion says. ‘Switch sides with me. I’ll drive us home while you doze.’

It’s a tempting offer. Being driven home. It’s the sleep deprivation that’s driving you somewhat crazy, you think, because Astarion has never looked more handsome than he does now in the passenger seat, hair tousled and uniform lopsided, and a smile on his face. Your cheeks heat up.

Oh, it’s definitely the sleep deprivation. Part of you wants to simply wait until you’ve made it home to do anything wild. But Astarion keeps looking at you, appraising you with gentle curiosity. He is unbelievably proud of you and how hard you’re working, and that appreciation is doing wonders to the thoughts inside your head. Your palms start to sweat.

You do a quick look around the parking lot one more time. It’s entirely empty now, not a single car in sight. No Lae’zel or Karlach or Wyll or anyone who would interrupt. The lone overhead light keeps blinking on and off. If you were truly concerned about your situation, you would think that it’s something out of a horror movie. Those aren’t the thoughts going on in your head. What you’re really thinking is so gross it should be humiliating. Astarion’s hand is warm on your hand, and his belly is still showing underneath his shirt that’s ridden up, and he’s tilting his chin because he’s noticed you’ve gone unusually still.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ you say in a small voice. ‘And  —  I’m not hungry either, not really.’

‘Oh?’ he hums. ‘What do you want to do instead?’ 

Ah. There it is. Your chance.

You pull your hand from his and place it on his knee, thumb pressing against the side of his thigh. Astarion’s eyes glimmer dangerously. He’s caught onto your mood. He knows exactly what you want without you even saying it.

He reclines your seat and stretches even more in your chair, his legs splayed out in front of him lazily. He’s lithe and taut, hands gripping the headrest for no other reason than he knows it makes him look gorgeous. He raises his chin like a challenge. You slide your hand up his leg and squeeze his muscle. Your mouth has gone dry, but that’ll be changed soon. You nibble the inside of your lip and pray to the gods to give you bravery.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion accuses.

‘It was the textbook,’ you say defensively. ‘I studied for so long, and now my mind has wandered.’

He tsks at you in disappointment. ‘The Taco Bell parking lot of all places.’

‘Shut up.’

He laughs, nice and low and dangerous, and presses his hand flush against his belly. He pulls his shirt up a little higher and you fight desperately to keep your eyes on his face.

‘Shut up?’ he mocks. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

‘I’ll show you,’ you say brazenly, ‘what I can do.’

It’s abysmal, the lust that overtakes you. You lean over the console and watch as he raises his shirt so that you can see the smooth plane of his abdomen. He’s lithe, sleek, refined. Even in his silly little uniform, you can’t help but think about how amazing Astarion looks  —  and he knows that’s what is racing through your mind, because he indulges in the attention that you’re granting him. You lean forward, one hand bracing yourself against the console while the other falls against his thigh for support, and kiss gently across his belly. From one side of his waist to the other, one hip bone to the other, until you fuss enough that Astarion helps slide his work pants down his hips to his thighs.

The ridiculousness of the setting is forgotten. You lavish Astarion’s cock with attention, the tip of your tongue tracing over the svelte shape, until he’s gently lacing his fingers in your hair to help guide you along. But you know his body almost as well as you know your own. You take the tip of Astarion’s cock into your mouth and kiss it. You graze your teeth carefully over the skin and feel his leg tense in anticipation, and slowly, you swallow it inch by inch.

His cock jerks in your mouth, growing and hardening beneath your careful ministrations. After being together for so long, you know what he likes. He likes slow and languid strokes. He likes when you hum and sometimes when you try to suck him as far down as you can, but you also know that he likes the occasional graze of your teeth, and you’ve barely touched him when he moans softly under his breath as if it’s humiliating to him how needy he is for you as well.

It isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. The gear shift is rigging uncomfortably into your ribs, and the sound of your leather seats sliding against your skin is an unwanted addition, but you’re mesmerized by the way Astarion tastes on your tongue.

Even after a long shift, he still smells immaculate. Your laundry soap overpowers almost everything else, and his satiny tip is salty with precum, but you’ve always enjoyed that taste more than anything else. You mouth gently against the length of him, kissing and sucking and tracing patterns against his cock with your tongue. The touch causes his hand to tighten in your hair, not enough that it hurts, but enough that you’re reminded of him.

It’s comforting, the feeling of his hand in your hair as he guides you up and down his length. It reminds you of less busy days when there’s no studying and no work shifts to be had. In the summer, you often spend your days stretched out across Astarion’s bed while he reads or writes, and you have more than enough sex to pass the times.

It’s far less organized here, but you take your time swallowing around his cock, sliding him as far down as you can into the back of your throat until Astarion is making little, wild noises. He’s trying to keep quiet, and you do your best to peek at him from the angle you’re at. He might as well be a work of art with how he looks. His eyebrows are taut, and he’s biting his bottom lip so ferociously you think you ought to be concerned. Astarion’s eyes soften when he notices you’re watching, and that’s more than what you need to sit up and slide your sweatshirt off over your head. It’s peak romanticism to fuck nasty in the empty Taco Bell parking lot.

You lean forward and take Astarion’s cock into your mouth again with intent. It’s not the most comfortable angle to suck him off at, but you’re determined to keep his eyes on you even if it means you’ll have the world's sorest neck in the morning. Because you’re watching, Astarion makes an effort to watch you as well. He fights against the fluttering of his eyelashes, determined to see you until the very end.

His skin is soft and hot against your tongue, and you focus on breathing through your nose and fight against your own budding arousal. You want to feast on him, to give him something to enjoy since it was your idea to do something like this in your car. You pay close attention to the soft tip of his cock as you suckle it, pressing little licks against the underside of his head, moaning softly even though your elbows are beginning to ache from the angle. You would bring him to completion like this if he would let you, but you can tell by the way his eyes seem to burn that he has other plans.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion repeats, laughing low in the back of his throat.

He lifts you by the chin and kisses you, unfazed by the spit and the drool and the slightly salty taste that sits on the tip of your tongue. If Astarion wasn’t into it, he would let you know. But if you’re insatiable, then he’s equally as deranged. He guides you over the console and into his lap, pulling and tugging at your sweatpants and underwear until they’re around your ankles.

You do try to keep some sense of decency. You push your sweatshirt in a bundle against the front window like that’ll do anything to hide the scene, and he leans his seat as far back as he possibly can without straining too much. Now is not the time for romance, you decide. You’re used to begging Astarion to fuck you, to batting your eyelashes and playing up how shy you are about your wants and needs, but there’s no time for that now at three in the morning. You rut against him, holding his hands against your hips.

It goes without saying that the lewdness of the situation does cause your cheeks to flush. You hide your face into Astarion’s neck and try to pray away the shame. But you aren’t ashamed of your lust, you aren’t ashamed of your desire  —  Your only concern is the embarrassment of how close to Astarion you want to be, never mind the faint perfume of the Fiesta Veggie Burrito that clings to his skin. 

You worm your way into his lap fully, feeling how hard his cock is between your legs, and grind against the thickness of it. He guides your movement ever so carefully, murmuring sweet things into your hair that he wouldn’t be caught dead saying to anyone else. You’re amazing, don’t hide yourself from me, let us enjoy this together, and all other lyrics that Astarion is proud of. Finally, you reach between your thighs and take his cock into your hands, guiding it inside of you. You don’t have time to tease him, to take your time lowering yourself against his hips until he’s gripping your hips so hard you might bruise. You sink down onto him as quickly as you can, and gasp once you’re fully seated.

Gods, you’ll never get used to the feeling of him inside. He’s so thick and long that you feel impossibly full, that any movement you make will make you cum right then and there. Your hands always shake when you’ve taken him all the way to the hilt, and you bite your bottom lip to focus on the task at hand. This isn’t just about you and how easy it is to make your core burst with pleasure. This is about Astarion too. You want to thank him for all his hard work, to praise him even though he hates it, and you smile. Astarion smiles too. His eyes always get so soft when he looks at you… He’s never looked happier than he has when he looks at you.

Astarion’s hands rub soothingly up and down your spine. The touch is encouraging, is relaxing, and distracting. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't distract you from the way he looks up at you adoringly, almost as if he’s ever seen anything like it before. You relish in the heavy weight of his gaze, tilting your chin so that he can admire everything, and he does. Astarion watches you like someone would admire art at a gallery. He follows every line of your body that he can see, the curve of your neck, the fragility of your cheekbones, and runs his hands against your skin as though it’s the first time he’s ever felt it. It makes you feel special.

And of course, you are special. You were Astarion’s first after a string of countless conquests.

Astarion rubs his hands up against your sides, clasping his fingers taut around your waist so that he can guide you along the length of his cock. It’s all so simple. Astarion likes touching you in whatever way he can manage, especially after hours apart. You spend most of your time familiarizing yourself with the warmth of his hands as he traces his fingers against your spine, or pets through your hair, or massages any tense muscles that might be frustrating you.

He’s even more handsy during sex. You haven’t even moved yet, and he’s tugging at you, biting his lip as if that’ll keep him from trembling. Astarion has always been sensitive, but the recklessness of the situation seems to have riled him up. He paws at your hips. He’s desperate, intent, for some sort of sensation and you’re equally as needy, an overwhelming fullness causing you to shift your weight one more time so that you can balance on either side of his thighs without too much discomfort in a cramped space. You swallow, and slowly, pull yourself off his cock until you’re painfully empty again.

Astarion pushes his hands up beneath your undershirt. You stole it from his side of the bed before you came, somewhat desperate to be wrapped up in his scent. He presses his cheek against yours, and you kiss him  —  biting the swell of his lower lip and lapping at his tongue when he hums in response. He parts his lips for you and you kiss him messily, turned on by the way he arches at your intuitiveness.

It’s only then that you start really grinding against his lap, pushing his cock back against your core and rising off of it again, bouncing in his lap as he encourages you to do so. Astarion smiles against your teeth and digs his fingers into the curve of your ass. He pulls against his chest and further into his lap, filling you so full of his cock and encouraging you to rut against his hips so that the feel of it is the only thing you can think of.

Astarion is everywhere.

In your thoughts, in your mouth, in your body and mind.

‘Impatient,’ you whisper to him, trying to still your hips but even the thought of him sitting there while you take your pleasure is enough to send tingles down to your toes.

‘As if I’ll ever have enough of you,’ he murmurs in response. He tilts his chin back and offers you his throat. You bite the tender space beneath his jaw and suckle the skin, tasting a bruise blossom beneath your tongue. ‘O  —  Oh, that’s it.’

Astarion practically purrs as you leave your mark against his skin. You focus on that, claiming his neck right above the collar of his work shirt so that everyone will know the truth. Astarion Ancunín is yours.

‘Like that,’ he whispers soothingly.

Astarion shows his neediness like this, moaning faintly as you turn your attention to making another hickey. While you do that, he helps you grind and ride his cock, his fingers tucked neatly in the junction where your ass meets your thighs. He pulls you up and down his length without any strain, and it thrills you so much that your toes curl and you try to squeeze your thighs together. You whine against his throat.

‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t play fair,’ Astarion warns you.

He uses all of the strength you forget he has to bounce you in his lap. The pleasure is so intense it distracts you from your artwork, and you cry against his collarbone and cling to him. His cock causes you to feel empty and full  —  like you’ll never get enough of what he has to offer you.

And, well, any thoughts of playing fair after that have gone out the window along with your shame. The front seat of your car is cramped and tight, but you’re not really thinking about comfort as you chase that heat between your legs for something greater. Astarion does most of the work for you between the way he talks nasty and fucks even nastier, unable to keep his hands to himself for even a few seconds.

If his hands aren’t cradling your ass, then they’re beneath your thighs and if they aren’t there, it’s because he wants to torment you further by fucking into you hard by holding onto your hips as hard as his trembling hands will allow him.

Everything feels way too tight. The walls of your car seem to be caving in, and your clothes are suddenly clinging to you in a way that’s bothersome. You want to be closer to Astarion, to have fully melded your bodies together  —  and you curse the setting because if you had just been patient, you’d be halfway home to a comfortable bed.

‘You’re naughty,’ Astarion whispers, and it does something for you. ‘Did you miss me  —  Oh fuck, that’s good.’

You bite his neck to keep him from talking. If Astarion talks, you’re going to lose whatever decorum you have left. You wrap your arms around his neck and whine softly in his ear, nuzzling against his warm skin.

‘I missed you,’ you whisper against his neck.

‘I know you did,’ he murmurs, stroking your hip. ‘I can  —  Mm, I can tell how badly you missed me. Look at how well you’re riding my cock.’

‘Astarion  —  ’

‘I love the way you say my name,’ Astarion whispers fiercely. ‘I could listen to it all night and day. Say it again for me, pet. I’ll make you say my name.’

Heat causes your cheeks to flush. You’ll never get used to the casual way he says the raunchiest things, and yet, you can’t help but shiver against his chest at the observation. You wouldn’t have said that you were doing well at it. The roof is short, your legs are cramping, but somehow, that makes the feeling even better. There isn’t much room for you to go, and for that you’re grateful. It means Astarion can’t tease you endlessly with the length of his cock. Every move you make has to be short, frantic, calculated, and the tip of Astarion’s cock is pressed so deeply against your core that you can barely stand it.

‘Oh, it’s so much,’ you gasp.

‘Yeah?’ he muses. ‘You were made for me. You were made to take my cock. You’ll take it for me, you’ll cum for me.’

He uses his knowledge of all your favorite tricks against you. You cannot escape his grasp, one arm wound tight around your waist while the other now presses lightly against the nape of your neck. Astarion kisses the side of your mouth passionately and keeps you even closer than the limits of your surroundings. That riles you up even more.

‘I want to  —  I want to, Astarion, oh  —  ’

You drag your hips up carelessly, unburdened by shame or nervousness. You’ve known Astarion since your first day in the city, and you’ve been through enough and had each other enough to no longer feel embarrassed by your needs, not that Astarion had ever let you feel insecure about anything. You whine against his neck, and he kisses you fully then, a pouty mouth against your needy tongue, and then you maneuver yourself in his lap so perfectly that it catches Astarion off-guard and he moans fully against your chin.

You lose yourself in the feeling and the sound. Astarion’s moans sound even better in a tight, enclosed space. His voice is soft, low, dangerous when it needs to be, and he only becomes this unraveled with you.

It’s an intoxicating feeling. You cry softly, nose bumping against his, and fall apart at the sound of his arousal, the feeling of his fingers dancing across the back of your neck, the sharp ecstasy that burns like a wildfire in the center of your stomach. You want to chase your release now. To find it in his lap, against his throat, softly and hoarsely in his ear. But you aren’t ready, not yet, and it takes all of your nerves to pull away.

It’s humid inside the car now. You take a quick look at the sight. You reach for stability, your palm sliding against the fogged window, smearing a glance into the darkness outside. You rest your other hand against the center console and arched your back, height leveraged against Astarion so that he can see you fully. He’s quick to respond to your change in position, no longer kneeling forward, but high above him like you’re sitting on a throne.

Astarion’s hands slide beneath the shirt you have left, palms trailing smoothly up the arc of your belly, warming the skin of your chest. He sighs handsomely and stares at you, leaning back so that he might enjoy the sight of you fully. And now that you’re able to, you’re able to pull fully all the way off the length of him, leaving him without the feel of you clenched tight around his cock. You’re only able to wait a few seconds for your own sake before you’re wiggling all the way back down until you are right back to where the gods want you to be.

‘You look delicious,’ Astarion says proudly, wearing a familiar half-smile.

‘For you,’ you confess. And it’s true.

‘You always look so beautiful to me,’ Astarion says in a tone that reminds you of when a cat has had its fair share of milk. He’s preening, cocksure. ‘Go on,’ he adds. ‘Fuck yourself for me.’

You swallow hard and do as ordered with a different rhythm. No longer do you seek out slow assured strokes. These are quick movements, careless, unpracticed and unmeasured, and Astarion helps you with two thumbs pressed against your stomach. It’s his turn to lean as far back as he can to give you all the room you need, and while it isn’t perfect, it’s probably the second hottest thing the two of you have done together. Fucking in a car in an empty parking lot. Your fingers slip against the window and Astarion catches you by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm so that he can wrap his fingers around yours.

‘Like that, beautiful,’ he says encouragingly, helping you. ‘You’re close, aren’t you? Don’t you want to?’

You nod, unable to trust how your words would sound. One way or another, he always gets what he wants, and you know that with enough time and focus on your pleasure, Astarion will have you mewling.

‘Come on, baby,’ Astarion encourages you, and you can’t help but follow his every command. ‘I love the way you ride me  —  I was made to fill you up, you take my cock so well.’

His words only make you even more frenzied, riding him to the best of your abilities just so he’ll say something sweet about you again. He babbles nonsensical things about you, and if you were in a clearer headspace, you’d be able to make out his words but all you understand now is the nerves building up in the very bottom of your stomach as you chase satisfaction, so determined to see his face once it’s all over.

He coos at you, chin tilting all the way back so you’re able to stare at his pale throat. A gorgeous throat, sleek and elegant, wearing proof of your existence in little bruises and bites that are both new and almost healed. You want to bite him again, to let your teeth graze his Adam’s apple while he talks about politics that you barely understand, and with that, you reach for the back of his neck so that you can slam your mouths together in a clumsy kiss. Astarion hisses, and then he’s biting your lower lip until it swells, and you kiss him so sweetly your head spins.

And from there, you don’t last long. Your legs are shaking harder than they’ve ever shook before, and your chest feels so tight and your cheeks feel so hot that you’re almost incapable of thinking. All you see and know is Astarion. Astarion, lounging against your passenger seat, his own cheeks ruddy and his expression twisted in pleasure. You cry out and collapse forward, burrowing into his chest as tightly as you can. He wraps his arms around you, kisses your temple.

‘Astarion, Astarion, please!’

‘Just like that, my love  —  ’ he gasps against your crown, grunting as his release hits him hard. ‘Like that, my pet, you’re perfect, my dear, my dear heart  —  ’

Your core tightens at his sweet words, and then it’s your churn to choke out a hoarse cry as pleasure races through your spine so sharply that it must hurt. You bite down on his shoulder for comfort, moaning as you try to come to your senses.

It’s somehow both hot and cold inside your little car. Everything is sticky with sweat, and the moisture in the air has started to cause Astarion’s hair to frizz up. You’re boneless. It’s only fair that he takes it upon himself to pull you up from his cock, tucking you back into your baggy sweatpants. You hover awkwardly, his cum on your thighs, while he drags his work pants up his slender thighs. You aren’t sure who is groggier, but when you glance at the clock on the dashboard, mild horror thickens in your stomach. You feel faint.

It might have been nearly three in the morning when Astarion was released from his duties, but it’s now four in the morning, give or take a few minutes. You start to make your way over to the driver’s side again, about to inelegantly climb across the center console when Astarion grabs you by the waist and kisses the side of your head gently.

‘You stay put,’ he mumbles. He sounds positively fucked thorough.

‘I made you stay up late,’ you say guiltily, but he shrugs.

‘Honestly, you did all the hard work,’ he says with a snort. ‘Lay back and close your eyes, darling. I’ll drive. Thank the gods it's the weekend.’

He opens the passenger door, and the cool air of the morning smells so refreshing to the smell of sex that permeates everything else. He stretches for a minute before coming back. He kisses your forehead tenderly, nudging your nose with his.

‘Love you,’ you murmur.

‘Love you,’ he says.

It all happens so quickly. You’re faintly aware of the sound of Astarion snapping his seatbelt in, your car humming to life, an Alfira ballad playing so quietly in the background it might as well not even be on. You’re so warm and toasty that you can’t keep yourself from leaning your head against the window. If you fall asleep before the first redlight, Astarion doesn’t say anything. All you can recall once you get home is a strong pair of arms holding you tightly, and the pillow you stole from his side of the bed, and his back against your chest.

As it should be.

[strangesmallbard]

bg3 characters if they worked at publix/safeway/your grocery store of choice:

karlach: in charge of anything that involves moving heavy objects between locations, but also works produce. LOVES helping old ladies take their groceries to the car; will accidentally abandon the vegetables at least once per shift. (she does apologize to the vegetables.) also is a pallet stacking master in the most haphazard configurations that, somehow, miraculously never fall over. frequently posts her monstrosities on r/publix, alongside a selfie of her giving a cheeky thumbs up.

wyll: store manager, in his second year of a master’s degree in public policy. optimistic like a sword is optimistic. WILL make sure you take your mandated break and will hand out store giftcards for a job well done. does not suffer customers who behave badly. is roommates and longtime best friends with karlach; the energy they exude while together either makes your shift bearable or unbearable, depending.

shadowheart: works the in-store coffee counter. probably should not because she always looks vaguely disgusted, annoyed, or bored. the dark circles under her eyes are always there no matter how many espresso shots she sips. has anonymously complained to corporate about the store’s music choices. every new employee thinks they have a shot with her until she hits them with the 👁️😐 did you need something? 👁️😐 and they slink away, feeling chastised for reasons unknown.

minthara: works the meat and/or fish counter. smokes seventeen packs per mandated break. always smells a little bit like red meat. has the most insane combat stories but it’s completely unclear whether she’s a veteran or just someone who gets into situations on purpose. every 20-something employee is at least mildly obsessed with her whole thing, but she’ll only humor karlach. no one knows where she lives.

lae’zel: 22-year-old grocery team lead. typically works the 5pm-11pm shift, but still obviously runs that shit like a navy seal base. has encyclopedic knowledge of grocery store codes and also lore. during mandated breaks she can be found doing one-armed pushups, argueflirting with shadowheart, or scribbling poetry in a notebook. she’s also the pitcher on her college’s varsity baseball team; everyone shows up to her big games and she fails at not looking overwhelmed by joy every time.

jaheira: beloved customer service manager, knows literally everything and everyone. taught wyll everything he knows about not suffering customers who behave badly. often goes mountain climbing with her scary 39-year-old girlfriend astele who owns the smoke shop next door. sells the best weed you’ll ever smoke in your life.

gale: day shift manager counterpart to lae’zel, postdoc who needs the job to make rent obviously. constantly gives aisle directions for the store location he worked during undergrad and shelves the soup cans all wrong. WILL show you photos of his cat. constantly recognized by his booktube fans (he also streams sims 4 builds of classic sci fi/fantasy book locations). he does wear his own merch underneath the uniform.

halsin: that customer who’s very polite but frequently and inexplicably barefoot. he also teaches woodworking and pottery at the youth center down the road. sometimes brings his regular kids to the store for a field trip and those little bags of cheetos. grows the weed that jaheira sells.

astarion: does not work at the grocery store. he worked at the grocery store for two weeks, during which he showed up late every day, insulted customers, and generally behaved like a cat ripped away from his ball of yarn. he only lasted those two weeks because gale (roommate/situationship) begged wyll to give him another chance in a different department. he still lives with gale while finishing up a law degree and can be found loitering in the grocery store, bitching about The Circumstances with shadowheart.

[brights-place]

[Tokyo Revengers] Souya Kawata x Reader

1K 5 Part Special: 1 , 2 , 3 ,4 ,5 (You are here) Warnings: Fluff, cursing, SMOOCH

A/N: YOOO IT'S THE LAST PARTY YAYAYAYA!! Thank you for the people who continued to read and request my work along with the people who read my stories aha go check it out here and I hope you all enjoy this last part! ──★ ˙ ̟ My Wattpad🐇 !!

Summary: Little summary here for the last part you and souya were on a date and got surprised to see Nahouya and the other division captains enter the restaurant and welcoming themselves to join the dinner after nahouya decided to mess with his brother

Souya and you have been dating for awhile and every now and then nahouya would mess with his younger brother who would get annoyed at the fact Nahouya would just be pestering him.

So when you and nahouya were at a resturant booth of a local diner rambling and talking about the recent things they saw at the aquarium the door of the diner got opened as rowdy voices were heard and one kf them were oh so famillar to Souya who froze eyes snapping over to see his brother and friends entering the resturant in toman uniforms grinning and chatting while getting take iut as regular customers looked away to avert eye contact.

Souya was one of them as he turned back to you as you blinked blinking “Whats wrong?” “Code Peach” Souya sighed as he still held his usual angry expression you loved so much.

You paused before stiffling a laugh at how your boyfriend looked while sounded annoyed that his brother would pester you two again even as a joke. A hand slammed down on the table as a cherry vocie was heard “No way!” A grinning mikey smiled at the duo “You two on a date?” “Y-Yeah!” You said sweatdropping at Mikey is random exclamation.

Draken sighed apologizing to you as he was holding a plastic bag of food they just got. Nahouya popped by soon after from beside Mikey grinning like always but staring at his younger brother eyebrows wiggling “OoOoOh~?” “Aniki” Souya frowned at Nahouya he continued to smile.

You giggled at the interaction as the other toman guys were joking around and crowding around the two on a date as One was embaressed the other was just genuinley chatting with them as a lovely voluminous curly peach-colored hair male with a wide grin that masks his eyes teased his brother and snatching a dumpling from his brothers plate as Souya hir his brothers arm with his usual angry face.

Mitsuya and Draken being the best went over and got to drag the others away leaving souya and you too finally be alone. The rest of the time it was just a flustered Souya who was holiding his head in his hands apologizing quietly with his usual angry expression as your lips twitched at how cute he looked.

Even when you left the diner after dinner he was holding your hand and trying to apologize yet was cut off by you kissing his cheek as his eyes widened and sparkled slightly.

The irk mark slightly disappearing while he blushed staring at you befote yoy bursted into a light giggle cupping his face. For a moment his angry face was gone, his lips twitching up as you pecked eachothers lips lightly before pulling away.

A soft smile reached your lips staring at souya who stared at you for a moment as you blinked at him confused before souya said something that made you flush.

“I cherish you”

Souya whispered blinking at you as if you were an undiscivered constellation that hooked him in as you laughed softly kissing him again once more before the two of you freezing from a loud yell from afar

“YEAHH MAKE SURE MY SISTER IN LAW IS PAMPERED SOUYA! AND FOR FUCKS SAKES DONT BE A PUSSY”

An angry face once returned on souya is face as he snapped his head tk see Nahouya cackling on his motorbike with the other toman members either stiffling a laugh or a Smirk at the cute scene they just saw as he snapped his head to his brother flipping him off.

Yup… perfect date (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ©brights-place 2025 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[thatswhywelovegermany]

Information board at the former border separating West and East Germany

Anyone who visits the zone border should know:

There is no enemy over there —

because there is Germany over there, Germans like us live there. What separates us – wire fences, control strips, mine barriers, watch towers, earth bunkers, barriers and roadblocks – is not a border, but an expression of arbitrariness and fear of those in power. These rulers have been forced upon part of our people by the Soviet occupying powers. What becomes visible in the zone boundary is the suffering of the population with their longing for law and freedom – for when would a government have ever had to capture happy and free citizens behind walls and death strips?

Nonetheless:

Violence and arbitrariness have supporters – conscious ones and misguided ones. We cannot know whether those people we see going about their work over there – soldiers of the NVA ("National People's Army"), farmers, workers – are supporters, followers or victims of the system. Some do not want to, many are not allowed to make contact with us. Behind all of them are informers, fanatics and a draconian judiciary.

Over there, the soldiers have orderst to take the harshest possible action – including with firearms – against any violation of the control strip.

THEREFORE: Caution is advised!

Please note the signs:

ATTENTION ZONE BORDER

Do not approach the so-called demarcation line! Its course is often not clearly recognizable. It is not always identical to the edge line of the border stones. The border fence built by the SBZ (Sowjetische Besatzungszone, Soviet Occupation Zone), the 40 to 150 meter wide strip of fallow land with double fences and mines are already in the zone area. Remember: there is no "no man's land".

Use only public roads and paths! Anyone who circumvents or climbs over the markings of the demarcation line puts health and life at risk. The misery of our people is not a playground for the unsuspecting.

Refrain from any attempt to make contact (waving, shouting, talking, taking photographs, offering gifts). This is almost always interpreted as provocation. You must also refrain from any loud expression of displeasure towards those wearing the SBZ uniform. You do not only endanger yourself, but perhaps also the livelihood and the few relationships of those people who live here on both sides of the barbed wire.

The best way to find out about the local conditions is to contact the customs authorities, the Federal Border Guard or the state police. Register with these authorities in good time, they will be happy to help you.

Hessian State Center for Political Education

[mylittleredgirl]

today i'm thinking about b5 worldbuilding choices that seem like they were deliberately chosen to differentiate it from star trek. (this is a joyful statement, by the way, They Both Look Nice.gif)

i'm not talking about hyperspace/jumpgate technology, which is way too structurally load-bearing to think of as just Not Warp Drive.

it's more the small-ticket differences, like earthforce using american measurements (when the real life american military uses the metric system), and the sometimes conspicuous absence of the sci-fi technologies that are most iconically identified with star trek: transporters, replicators, all-purpose tricorders... and phasers with a stun setting, which is where things get kinda fucked up.

the sci-fi gun filling the phaser niche on b5 is the PPG. it's also a bloodless energy weapon, but it only has one setting, which is at least as deadly as a modern gun (i say "at least" because of how often someone is "killed instantly" with a single shot). officers are not armed with a less-lethal option.

in season one, it's routinely emphasized that no one except earth force personnel can have weapons of any kind on the station. the ban is pretty hardcore. not even religious ceremonial knives are allowed, there are active scans of everything coming on board, and security has the right to check for weapons even in the "foreign soil" of ambassadorial quarters.

there are a quarter of a million people here on any given day, mostly civilians, many of them aliens. there's a backdrop of petty crime, mostly theft and fistfights. occasionally someone gets stabbed with a homemade shank. security has Shit To Do! people to arrest, and so on. but the total weapons ban means that in the vast majority of cases, anyone that security can expect to encounter, especially inside the station (vs. the customs area) will be unarmed.

and this all seems like a recipe for disaster. a human in uniform killing an unarmed alien bystander (or a suspected petty criminal who hasn't been charged with anything) is going to be a problem for the Don't Start Wars With Aliens station!! of course the initial peace train derails mid-series, but at the beginning, sinclair is really holding on to the goal of peace by his fingernails. you would think that both he and earthgov (who Really want to keep earth out of war) would prefer that the random dumbasses in security carry a non-lethal option as a first-line weapon, even if they are also armed with a backup PPG... which implies that the humans in the b5 universe just never bothered to work on this technology.

meanwhile, in the real world, police tasers came into use in 1993, at the exact same time as b5 started. the idea that cops should have a way to subdue someone resisting arrest without shooting them was a pressing concern in the national conversation... so somehow it ends up being worse than just picking american riot cops off the street and sticking them in space. to us at home, especially in the 2020's, it fits in with the rest of the "hey, don't you and the good guys think this is kinda fucked up?" stuff, but it's not treated that way, because the good guys don't notice it at all (that's honestly a theme with law enforcement issues in b5 in general, but that's another post).

which is why i wonder if it was a Not Like Star Trek choice early on to avoid "set phasers to stun," and it just never came up again.

[fishcat480]

Bad Day

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Plus size! Reader

Warnings: None

Description: You’re having a very bad day when Damon Salvatore decides to make it worse, but then maybe he also makes it much better.

It was one of those fucking days.

You know those days when everything just goes completely, spectacularly wrong?

You shouldn’t have even been surprised. Once you’d woken up and your favorite sweater had had cat puke on it, you should have given up there. But no - you just had to power through and continue your day.

You got a call right after breakfast that your car payment hadn’t gone through, and now you’d have to pay a late fee you couldn’t afford. While running errands, you’d managed to knock over your Starbucks in the middle of the aisle of Target, forcing you to have to buy another coffee. And once back home, you were greeted with a passive aggressive note from your neighboring apartment asking you to close your door “just a tad quieter”.

By the time you had to get ready for work, your ‘fucks to give’ meter was dangerously low.

You quickly tossed on your uniform shirt and broke several traffic laws driving to the Grill, because of course you were late. At a red light, you tossed your messy Y/H/C hair into a ponytail, griping at your reflection as some asshole in a sports car cut you off. Really? Who the hell drove sports cars in Mystic Falls? You’d only ever seen one person do that, and that was Damon Salvatore.

You scanned the license plate. Then you squinted to see inside the drivers seat and swore loudly. Damon fucking Salvatore. And he waggled his pale fingers at you before peeling off at top speed.

He was there at the Grill when you finally clocked in, tossing apologies at your manager and ignoring Matt’s teasing grins as you settled behind the bar and counted up your liquor. The day bartender threw you a goodbye and a sympathetic look.

Once finished your count, you sauntered over to Damon, who was enjoying a scotch on the rocks with a self righteous grin on his face.

“You cut me off.” you said, placing your hands on the bar.

He shrugged. “Did I?”

Damon had been drinking at the bar of the Grill long before you worked there, but somehow after you started you felt as if he was suddenly there all the time. You’d had an easy relationship at first, due to your infamiliarity. He was a flirt, you were determined to make good money. You flirt with Damon, he gives you a twenty on top of his tab. That was how it had always been for you, and for the other bartenders before you.

But something had changed, and you remembered the day that it did almost as well as you remembered Damon’s drink order.

It had been a slow night, with only Damon and his buddy Alaric holding down the fort. Most of the other drink orders came from tables, and those were practically empty too. You elected to pass the time with Damon and Ric, talking about nothing and everything. That quickly nosedived into a pissing contest between the two men and which one could do a handstand when you mentioned offhand that you were able to perform a fancy little trick, and that had been your downfall.

“There’s no way!” Ric was crying, his words slurring out of the side of his mouth. “You prove it right now.”

You folded your arms across your chest and shrugged, your grin too confident. Damon’s eyes were laser focused, and he took a long drag of his scotch, watching you intently.

“Don’t tease us…”he said finally.

You sighed, and cursed yourself.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind showing this particular party trick off for customers. It happened sometimes on raucous nights, when people were coming from or on their way to parties, looking to boost their mood and spend their money. It felt good to do it and see the looks of awe on their faces, sometimes even lust.

But you were feeling very self conscious at the prospect of doing it for Damon Salvatore.

You couldn’t deny he was attractive. His face, yeah, but his swagger was practically debilitating. He had the confidence of a much older man, which was funny considering you were the same age. There weren’t guys your age acting like him, of that you were sure.

It fueled your desire toward him as much as your flirtatious little routine did.

But Damon was always on the arm of the skinniest, hottest girl in the room. He’d chased after Elena Gilbert for a while, and she was less than half your size. There was no way his flirting had anything more to do with you than you wished. He liked to have fun, plain and simple.

Ric was slamming his fists on the table now, demanding you not to leave them hanging.

You mustered up all your courage - they knew what you looked like, you thought. They were asking you to do it.

So you lifted yourself up onto the bar in a much more fluid motion than you might have ever expected from yourself, and in one easy rotation you were doing a handstand.

You could feel the fabric of your shirt rising up, but you ignored it. You carefully started placing the majority of your weight on your left hand.

You could hear Ric and a few customers oohinh and aahing at you, and it spurred you on. You lifted your right hand into the air, and separated your legs a bit. And then you were doing a handstand on one hand.

You held the pose as Ric hollered and cheered, and then easily flipped backwards and onto your feet again before jumping back behind the bar, standing once more on your own two feet.

“Am I drunk or did I just witness cirque de soleil?” Ric asked.

“You’re drunk.” You told him, as you wiped off the spot on the bar where your feet had been. “But you did witness something pretty cool.”

Your eyes flitted over to Damon, curious to see if he had any kind of reaction. What you saw stopped you in your tracks.

His eyes were dark - darker than you’d ever seen them. There was something hungry in their expression, like you were dessert and he had saved plenty of room. His lips were covered by his tongue as it slowly lapped over it, before he closed his mouth and swallowed.

“Let’s do a shot.” Damon decided, reaching out and placing his hand on top of yours. “I’m buying.”

“Shots!” Ric called, and you internally groaned. He definitely did not need another one.

But you were glued into Damon’s atmosphere, and you watched as his thumb stroked along your hand. “You want me to do a shot?” you asked.

“That was hard work you did up there.” He encouraged. “You must be thirsty.”

You flushed, hoping Ric couldn’t see the effect he was having on you. When you glanced over, he was exclaiming happily as a Bruce Springsteen song came on, completely ignoring you. Your blush must have been crimson, and your cheeks felt as if they were on fire.

Damon’s thumb was still marking its path on your skin. You needed to get away fast.

“I’ll get those shots.”

“Sounds good.” Damon said.

“I’ll need my hand to pour them.”

He let out a sound of displeasure, but withdrew his hand from yours and you robotically turned away, pouring three shots of Bulleit bourbon. If your hand was shaking and you spilled one, that was between you and the security camera.

You, Ric and Damon cheersed, tapping your glasses on the bar top before throwing the alcohol back. Ric sputtered and coughed, and you giggled as he tried to compose himself.

“Well that’s me!” he said, standing up and lurching dangerously to the left. “I’m tapping out.” He went to put his card down, but as usual Damon stopped him. He started waving his card in your direction, but you made no move to grab it.

“I don’t even bother running you up a tab anymore. Damon’s always got it covered.” You admired that about Damon. A lot of people thought of him as kind of shitty, but you knew better. He was loaded, and he always spent the majority of that money on other people. Even after Elena had rejected him for good, he still came in and covered her tab from time to time. He’d done it for all of their friends. He’d even done it for Matt - despite their apparently rocky history.

Ric sighed in defeat. “Me and my teacher’s salary are very thankful.”

Once Ric had left, it was you and Damon. Alone.

Never before had you felt so nervous serving him by yourself. Whatever you’d seen in his eyes after your little show had altered the atmosphere between the two of you. It thrilled you and scared you all at once.

“How come you never told me you were so flexible?” Damon asked, as you cleaned Ric’s empty glasses. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you, and you were avoiding meeting his gaze like the plague.

You shrugged. “I didn’t realize you had any interest in my level of flexibility.”

“If it’s about you, I’m interested.”

Since when did he say things like that to you? God, and if his words didn’t just send shockwaves straight to your core. Had you stepped into an alternate reality where Damon Salvatore was horny for you? No, that couldn’t be right. He was a flirt, and he was probably still heartbroken over Elena picking his brother.

“Damon.” you said finally, meeting his eyes. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

He frowned. “And why not?”

You gave him a knowing look. “I know you.” He was looking for a rebound, and you wanted more than that.

His frown deepened, and within a few moments Damon had gone from sad to furious. There was something working beneath the surface, and he looked….hurt.

“Well, fuck you very much.”

He stalked out of the bar, and your jaw was on the floor. Never did you ever expect Damon to get mad when rejected. How many girls had said no or called him names or even slapped him while you’d watched, bemused, from your side of the bar? And every time he’d smiled or shaken his head. He’d thought it was funny. So what made you different?

The next time you’d seen him, he’d asked for a drink and didn’t say a word to you other than a hi, bye or check, please.

And then this morning he’d cut you off, as if he somehow knew you were having a shit day and wanted to make it even fucking worse, as only Damon Salvatore could do.

Which sucked, because you’d spent weeks wishing that he would man up and talk to you, and explain why he’d been so hurt that day. You’d spent weeks wanting to have Damon back, cracking jokes and flirting with you and being your best customer.

So you confronted him. It was going to be another slow night, and you more than had the time.

“You cut me off. And you did it on purpose.”

This got his attention. He looked up from his drink, his nostrils flaring.

“I cut you off because you’re not a very good driver.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come on! I wasn’t even moving!”

“And yet, your inexperience was glaringly evident.” He downed the last of his scotch and shoved the glass toward you. “And I’ll take another whenever you’re ready to work.”

Oh, he had another thing coming if he thought he was going to speak to you like that! You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and moved quickly to pour him a shot - you were on the clock after all, even though you’d much rather leave him hanging - but not the top shelf he was used to. Oh no, you were pouring him the cheap stuff.

You slammed the glass in front of him and slid it over, glaring. He gave as much as he got, giving you a wicked little smile before taking a sip.

And promptly spitting it out.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, rising to his feet. He grabbed a handful of cocktail napkins and dabbed at what he’d spilled onto his shirt, but the damage was done.

“Oh, sorry, were you looking for something specific? Unless you specify, we typically just give customers the rail.”

You had no issue being bitchy bartender tonight. In fact, it was kind of fun to dish it out. And he deserved it for being a jerk.

“What the hell is your problem?” He yelled. “I cut you off. It happens. I’m kind of an asshole sometimes.”

You groaned in frustration. “What about the whole silent treatment for three weeks? I tell you I don’t want to sleep with you and you act like a child!”

He bristled violently at that, and then looked around for a moment. You weren’t really sure what he was doing until he grabbed Matt by the scruff of his neck and brought him around to your side of the bar.

“Y/N needs a fiver. You’ve got this covered, right?”

Matt sighed, but started cleaning pint glasses. You were about to protest when Damon began dragging you off, and Matt smiled apologetically.

“Just go with it! It’ll be a lot easier!” He tells you, and then he’s gone and you’re being dragged through the back of house and out the back door.

Once outside, Damon released his grip on your arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” You ask, incredulous. “I’ll get written up if I’m gone too long.”

“Look.” Damon says, ignoring your pleas. “You…you hurt my feelings that day, ok? You said something kind of mean, or implied it at least. But…I shouldn’t have handled it like that. I’m working on that stuff.”

“Mean?” You asked. “What did I say that was mean?”

He sighs. “Do I have to spell it out?”

You nodded. “All caps, double spaced, please.”

He laughed despite himself. “You basically implied that I am some womanizing creep that wanted to use you for your body.”

You blinked. And then blinked again.

“Ok, two things… the first: are you NOT a womanizing creep that uses women for their bodies?”

He raised his eyebrows, and his head tilted in thought. “Ok fair point.”

“And the second: that’s not what I meant at ALL.”

He brought a finger up to his mouth and placed the tip on his lower lip. “……you didn’t?”

“No. Damon, what I was trying to say was that I’m not your type, and that you probably just wanted me for a night because you were drunk. Which is great and fine, but that’s just not what I’m looking for. I want a relationship.”

There was confusion in his too-blue eyes, and he took a step toward you, entering your personal space.

“What do you mean you’re not my type?”

Oh lord, this was exactly what you didn’t want to talk about right now. You blew out a steadying breath, choosing your words carefully.

“The girls you date are usually of the same variety….both in looks and in size. So I just figured I wasn’t really your type.”

Damon’s entire face changed. Gone was the confusion and the mock anger, replaced with a quiet rage. He flexed his knuckles, and you involuntarily stepped back. He kind of looked pissed.

“You think I didn’t want to sleep with you because you’re not skinny?”

You struggled to get words out. “I mean, yes? In a way…”

“Are you fucking stupid?”

Did he really want an answer to that? Based on the dangerous look in his eyes, it was probably in your best interest to stay quiet.

He was now fully in your space, standing with you toe to toe. His arms were crossed over his chest, which was absolutely heaving. He was very, very angry and it was kind of turning you on.

“I have been throwing hints at you since the moment you started working here. I tip you double the amount I tip anyone else, I always call you pet names, I’m constantly flirting with you…and you really thought I just wanted one random night of fun because you were warm and available?”

His words were like shockwaves to your system. Now that you were faced with it, you realized that no other bartender had ever said anything good about Damon’s tips. Anytime you were switching shifts, he never called anyone else “darling” or “sweetheart”. He flirted, sure, but you were always different….

“Oh my god….” You said quietly. “Oh my god, I didn’t even realize…”

His hands were on your hips, and your senses were assaulted by him. He smelled good, clean with a hint of spice. His eyes were making you melt with the heat of his gaze. His fingers, too, worked over your skin in delicate little circles, and you knew that given the chance those fingers would drive you wild.

“I do want to sleep with you.” He says, and you sigh but he places a finger on your lips, shushing you.

“I do, and I’m not afraid to say it. I got…overwhelmed when you did that sexy little handstand, and I moved too fast. But what I really want is to take you on a date.”

You tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck, your forehead resting against his. “Yeah?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He breathes.

You don’t answer, just press your lips against his and let yourself drown in him. His lips are like brands against yours, and you can imagine steam coming off you both as your mouths battle for dominance, slotting and slanting over each other again and again until you’re breathless.

“Ok, but if you bring me here for our date there will be actual hell to p-“

He cut you off with another searing kiss. A promise.

So maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all.